Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, February 6, 1897, Page 6

BY /\AURICE, H. HERVEY CHAPTER XVII. (continued.) “My name is Josiah Skinner, and I am, by profession, a detective.” “And I, sir,’ put in Montmorency, with great show of dignity, “am, as you are aware, Miss Clifford’s agent and business manager. Her abandon- ent of her engagement at the Folies ergere would entail the most serious consequences to both her and myself.” Daft Billy said nothing. His eyes were riveted upon Zana,who still toyed with her grapes, as though unconscious of what v going on around her. It woul em, then,” remarked Som- erville, ic ‘that a detective and an agent in Miss Clifford’s employment, assume the right to invade my private apartments how and when they please. That right I dispute. If you have any communication for me, address it to me in the morning. Meanwhile, oblige me by quitting the room.” “Not until I have instructions from Miss Clifford's own lips to do so,” an- swered Josiah, resolutely. “Certainly not,” confirmed Montmo- Somervitle shrugged his shoulders, contemptuously. 1,” he rejoined, with a Anything to avoid a scene. ford,” he added, in short, de- , “do you know this gentle- g¢ himself Josiah Skinner?” nted Zana, “I know him.” , be and your theatrical agent geem to object to your presence here with me, and decline to go except at your bidding. Do you wish to leave me?” A Girl, Revolver in Hand, Standiug Erect and Defiant. staggered at this reply, “have you con- sidered the consequences to your own good name (no matter how praise- worthy your ultimate object may be) of remaining in this hotel under Dr. Som- erville’s protection?” Zs ained silent. tion. manded Somerville. “I shall remain here,” answered Za- na. “Do you wish these gentlemen to go continued Somerville. “If so, hem to do so.” “Please go 4 said, obediently Josiah and Montmorency stared at each other blankly. Neither of them bad much knowledge of or faith in hypnotic influence. Yet to both it was evident that the girl’s will was com- pletely subordinated to that of her companion. But what could they do? Remove her by force, against her own express wish? Impossible. Call in a local policeman? He would simply Iaugh at them. “Well?’ queried Somerville, mock- “You have had your answer. going?” swered Josiah, “we are. ve go, let me tell you this, Dr. Somerville: You are playing a deep game ,and with tools I do not un- derstand. By what means you have “You have Answer it,” com- y, gentlemen,” she induced Miss Clifford to place herself thus entirely in your hands, I do not know. But this I do know. That no man, attempting your game, ever yet gained aught in the long run.” “Let me add my remonstrances to Skinner,” put in Montmo- ingly, “Pr consider ble ruin of M Clifford's ssonal ¢: ¥ “I do not wis 0 bandy words with either of you,” retorted Somerville, pointing to the door. “Go!” 4 the last time, Miss Clifford,” d Josiah, desperately, “is it your n to remain here with Dr. Somer- .” said Zana, “it is.” With a sigh of disappointment, Josi- ah turned to depart, followed by Mont- morency. But not so, Daft Billy. Limping up to Zana’s chair, the ex- newsvendor took her hand in his. “Miss Clifford,” he said, brokenly, “I ‘was once the means, through God’s providence, of saving you from a vol- untary death. He now bids me inter- se between you and this man. In His name, I adjure you. Leave him and come-” There was a ring of solemn and pa- thetic dignity in the words that fell from the distorted mouth, which start- led even Somerville himself for a mo- ment. Quickly recovering himself in a moment, however, he advanced threat- eningly towards the speaker. “Unhand that lady and begone, you scoundrel!” he cried, savagely. “At her bidding,” was the calm re- ply, “not at yours.” Zana passed her left hand several times across her eyes and forehead, as though dazed; but her right hand re- mained in Billy’s. “Bid the miserable wretch begone!” hissed Somerville. “Come!” pleaded the outcast. “In Heaven's name, come!” And thus they stood, confronting each other, for a full minute—the ex- pert hyprotist and the half-witted newsvendor. Then Zana, still holding Billy’s hand, arose, and stared around her, like one newly-awakened from a dream. “Where am I?” she almost gasped. Then her eyes met Somerville’s, and in an instant she remembered all; the vis- it to his rooms; the words that had been spoken; the masterful, fathomless gray orbs that had overpowered her. Yet now she could look at them fear- lessly, defiantly. Strength seemed to have come to her from the hand-clasp of the man who had pulled her back from the parapet of Blackfriars bridge. She looked around her, and recognized both Skinner and Montmorency. And, with restored memory of the past, the tigress once more arose strong within her. Somerville made a last, desper- ate effort to reassert his influence; but the attempt failed, and he knewit. In- stead of submissive obedience, the dark eyes now flashed back scorn and hat- red into his. “Richard Somerville!” eried.Zana, in clear, bell-like tones, “in the presence of these three witnesses, 1 denounce you as a thief and a murderer; as a thief, because I have proof that you robbed Ernest Norton; and as a mur- derer, because you assuredly did him to his death!” Livid with rage and fear, Somerville sprang forward, with outstretched hand, to choke the girl into silence, but was borne back by a simultaneous on- rush on the part of Daft Billy. The next instant a heavy cut-glass decant- er descended with murderous force up- on the outcast’s head, and he fell, with scarce a groan. Josiah next inter. posed, and, had he been supported by Montmorency, t’-ey would, doubtless, between them, have succeeded in over- powering the now infuriated doctor. But the agent’s heart failed him, and, muttering something about procuring help, he rushed from the room. Somerville was clearly beside him- self with rage and ‘despair, and his fury concentrated itself upon Zana. With lightning-like rapidity he drew forth a revolver, with the obvious in- tention of shooting her. But, ere he could draw the trigger, Josiah had wrested the weapon from his hand. It fell upon the floor, at some distance from the two combatants, who forth- with closed in a deadly embrace. The detective was brave as a lion, but he was no match for his sinewy opponent, whose fingers locked around his throat with a grip of steel. Strive how he would, Josiah could not unloos- en that terrible grip, until, with pro- truding eyes and out-hanging tongue, hé lay, a limp, inert mass upon the floor. Zana had, meanwhile. possessed her- self of the revolver, and when Somer- ville arose, panting, from the now helpless detective’s prostrate form. the gleaming barrel was pointed fair at his heart. “Move but a single step, and I fire!” she cried, with scarce a tremor in her voice. With an oath, Somerville sprang for- ward. There was a flash—a report— and he fell like a log across the body of Daft Billy. At that moment Montmorency re- turned in hot haste, followed by half the personnel of the hotel. The scene that met their gaxe was one which none was ever likely to forget; three motionless bodies stretched upon the parquet, and a girl, revolver in hand, standing erect and defiant amidst the carnage. “Great heavens!” exclaimed Mont- morency, horror-stricken. ‘What has happened? What does it all mean?” “It means,” answered Zana, catching at her breath, “that Ernest Norton has been avenged!” CHAPTER XVIII. Guilty or Not Guilty. | Zana was mistaken; the end was not yet. Medical examination revealed the fact that the bullet had perforated Somerville’s left lung, and, for marty weeks, scant hopes were entertained of his recovery. But, in the end, science, aided by a vigorous constitution, tri- umphed, and the wounded man was pronounced convalescent. Life is sweet to all; and Somerville hailed his rescue from the jaws of death with thankfulness—a thankful- ness which was soon marred by the in- formation that an extradition warrant had been granted, and that he would be handed over to the English authori- ties when sufficiently well to travel to London, to stand his trial for the will- ful murder of Ernest Norton. All his securities and valuables had, mean- while, been impounded by the French police. £ Strangulation, unless immediately fatal, is very seldom productive of se- rious after-effects; nor is it an easy matter to choke a man to death by mere finger-pressure. Within a few hours of the struggle, Josiah Skinner had recovered sufficiently to take a leading part in the transport of his ag- gressor, under safe custody, to the hos- pital, whither Daft Billy, grievously hurt but still breathing, was removed. As for Zana, she returned to Paris, escorted by her now more hopeful agent. “Tis an ill wind blows nobody good,” remarked Montmorency, suavely. “Even if this unhappy business does create a scandal, it will not be without its advantage from an advertisement point of view. Remarkably civil of the commissaire de police to refrain from arresting you, though, of course, you will be kept under surveillance.” “So he told me,” assented Zana. “In- deed, he gave me to understand that he was straining his authority to the ut- most in permitting me to depart, even though under cbservation. As for the theater, you must make the best terms you can with the management. I shall appear no more upon the stage.” Montmorency groaned, but finding her resolute in her decision, perforce, obeyed. The outcome was that the di- rectors of the Folies Bergere, in view of the tragic nature of the situation, reluctantly consented to cancel Miss Clifford’s engagement. The evidence given before the juge* d'instruction, including the depositions of Somerville himself, made it clear that she had shot her abductor in self- defense. She ,Montmorency and Josi- ah Skinner were simply bound over to appear against Somerville, if called upon; and a-similar course’ was pur- sued with respect to Daft Billy, when the latter had recovered sufficiently to understand what was required of him. But, in view of the far graver charge formulated against Somerville in the extradition warrant, the French au- thorities deemed it useless to proceed against him. And thus, two months after the tragic scene at Versailles, he was formally given ever into the custo- dy of Josiah Skinner and another offi- cial sent from Scotland Yard. At Bow street the prisoner (who, while protesting his innocence, re- served his defense) was committed for trial, without the formality of a re- mand. Even at its initial stage two facts told against him with great force. He was identified, both by the manag- er and the accountant of the London & Westminster Bark, as the man who had personated Ernest Norton. And the missing man’s drafts, together with Zana’s jewels, had been found by the French police in his possession. The trial, course, will long be remembered as one of the most sensational in Old Bailey records. We do not propose giving a verbatim report, because such a course would involve a needlessly-lengthy rep- etition of much that the reader knows already. Let it suftice to indicate the principal links in the chain of circum- stantieal evidence set forth by the Crown. Ernest Norton arrived at the George Hotel, Southampton, upon the 6th of April, and his departure for London with the avowed objects of procuring a special marriage license and of de- positing Zana’s jewels in a bank, were proved by the evidence of Zana herself and of Mrs. Baxter. Josiah Skinner had experienced no difficulty whatever in identifying the prisoner with the Dr. Richard Somer- ville formerly practicing at Twicken- ham; and, of course, one of his first eares had been to hunt up the dis- missed servants. The housemaid now deposed to the arrival, upon the night of April 6th, of a gentleman in every way answering to the description of Ernest Norton. He had not occupied any bedroom that night, nor had any member of the household seen him de- part. Next, it was proved by the bank offi- cials that the prisoner (to whose identi- ty the manager and cashier swore pos- itively) had successfully personated Mr. Ernest C. Norton, and had cashed a draft for two thousand five hundred pounds bearing that gentleman’s signa- ture. Reference was made to the sud- den break-up of the establishment at Twickenham; and the prisoner's move- ments were traced to Paris, where, it was shown, he had led a life of pleas- ure and extravagance—upon the pro- ceeds, presumably, of Ernest Norton’s securieties and cash. His surreptitious visit to England had escaped notice; ‘but, expectation orse to its highest when Zana entered the witness-box and detailed’all that had passed between the prisoner and herself—her account of the scene at Versailles being corroborated by Josiah Skinner, Daft Billy and Montmorency. Link by link the counsel for the Crown formed his chain from the abundant mass of evidence that had been given. The evidence was, he ad- mitted, whilly circumstantial, but he reminded the jury that circumstantial evidence, if consistent, was often the most deceiving. “It is safe to predict,” he went on, “that that counsel for the defense will make the most of the fact that no proof exists of Ernest Norton’s death, and that you cannot honestly convict the prisoner of murdering a man who may possibly be still alive. But what is the presumption, the inevitable presump- tion? Here we have a young man, in the best of health and spirits, about to Ernest Norton Did Come to His Death at My Hands. be married to a charming girl, and the possessor of an ample fortune. He vis- its his friend, the prisoner, one night, and from that hour disappears entire- ly—as completely as though the earth had opened to swallow him up. Why should he so disappear unless he was deliberately put out of the way? “We have overwhelming evidence to prove that the prisoner robbed and per. sonated him; but what living man would allow himself to be so robbed and personated? And how could the prisoner hope to carry his nefarious plans into effect unless he had previ- ously silenced the victim? The police have failed to discover any trace of Ernest Norton, alive or dead; but what reasonable man can doubt that he is dead, and that he died at the prison- er’s hands? The most careful search of the premises at Twickenham has given no clue to the disposal of his body; but it must be borne in mind that the Thames flows at the extremity of the garden, and it surely requires no great stretch of the imagination to sup- pose that a murderer would avail him- self of the river, upon a dark night, to hide all traces of his crime.” The line adopted for the defense was bold and ingenious. The fact that Er- | nest Norton had visited his old friend, Dr. Somerville, upon the night of April 6th was not disputed. But, re- specting the real object of his visit, the prisoner’s counsel had much to say. “I shall prove,” he declared, “out of the mouths- of the Crown witnesses themselves, that Ernest Norton’s chief anxiety at that time, was to escape from the persecutions of a scheming adventuress—this Indian girl, calling herself variously Zana and Miss Clif- ford. I shall make it clear to you that he fled from Bombay to avoid her, and | which followed in due | that she had the audacity to take pas- sage to England in the very same ship. Thus driven to bay, Ernest Norton as- sented, or pretended to assent, to her wishes, and hastened to London for the avowed purpose of procuring a special marriage license. But what he did was simply to escape once more by flight from the girl.” But when he came to deal with the personation of Norton by the prisoner, and the possession by,the latter of the missing man’s drafts and Zana’s jew- els, the learned counsel was on more difficult ground. Nevertheless, he did his best to explain away the damaging facts. The prisoner, he pointed out, was debarred from giving evidence in his own behalf, but the jury would see that his action had been quite consist- ent with perfect innocence of the mon- strous charge imputed to him. He had merely acted as trustee or bailee for the property of his friend until such time as the latter should return from his travels. Lastly,,the prisoner’s counsel dwelt with great energy upon the entire ab- sence of proof of the missing man’s death, and pointed out the terrible re- sponsibility that would rest upon the Examined Him By the Light of a ‘Torch. jury should they, upon the strength of merely circumstantial evidence, find the prisoner guilty of murdering his friend, who was, in all probability, at that very moment, alive and in hiding. This appeal evidently produced an ef- fect favorable to the prisoner, and there was a murmur of applause when the learned counsel concluded. Then the judge summed up, fairly and impartially, as the importance of the questions at issue demanded. With masterly hand he reviewed the evi- dence which had been brought before the jury. It was for them to decide how far the evidence connected the prisoner with the missing man, Ernest Norton. Admittedly, the two had met upon the night of April 6th, and there the mystery began. What subsequent- ly became of Ernest Norton? The case for the Crow nwas that the prisoner murdered him, and that his motive for so doing was to secure his money, drafts and jewels. The defense set up was that Norton’s sudden disap. pearance was entirely voluntary, in or- der to escape from a proposed mar- riage, and the suggestion was that the prisoner personated his friend at the bank, with the latter’s full consent and concurrence, acting, indeed, as bailee, with a strong dash of fraud thrown in. It was for the jury to decide, from the evidence given, which explanation they believed to be the true one of Brnest Norton’s disappearance. As regarded proof of death, this was not essential in all cases, to justify a verdict of willful murder. Suppose the case, for example, of two men put- ting to sea in a boat, and one of them being heard of no more. A strong pre- sumption of his death would clearly arise, and this presumption might crys- tallize in time into a reasonable cer- tainty. And if it could be shown that the survivor had a strong motive for compassing his companion’s death, and had actually profited by it, a strong prima facie case would exist against him. In the present case the jury must de- cide two questions: Had they any reasonable doubt as to the fact of Er- nest Norton’s death? If they believed him to be dead, then they must further decide whether he came to his death at the prisoner’s hands. If any doubt ex- isted in their minds, the prisoner was entitled to the benefit thereof. He then dismisstd them to consider their ver- dict. The jury deliberated for upwards of two hours before the foreman was in a position to announce that they had come to a decision. Somerville cast a rapid, keen glance at the face of each as they entered the court, but he gave no other sign of the terrible anxiety that must have filled his heart at that supreme moment. In reply to the usual question, the foreman said they were agreed as to their verdict. “Then, how say you?” queried the clerk of arraigns. “Is the prisoner guilty or not guilty?” “Guilty!” answered the foreman. A wild, despairing shriek resounded through the court, and the senseless form of a woman clad in black, was promptly carried forth, amid whis- pered assertions that the unfortunate woman was the prisoner’s wife. The judge produced the fatal black cap, and, as*usual, asked the prisoner if he had aught to say why sentence of death should not be pronounced against him. Richard Somerville passed his hands several times rapidly across his forehead, as. though nerving himself for a last appeal. “Since you permit me to speak, my lord,” he said, in low, deliberate tones, “T wish to say this: Ernest Norton did come to his death by my hands, but solely through misadventure. At his own request, I subjected him to hyp- notice influence, aided by the electric current. The experiment succeeded, but his heart’s action failed under it, and he died in my operating chair. So soon as I had recovered from the shock of the disaster, the temptation to profit by it assailed me with irresisti- ble force. I subsequently threw the corpse into the river ,and appropriated the dead man’s wealth for myself. This is the full and rigid truth of the matter, so help me God!” A murmur of amazement and incre- duilty ran through the crowded audi- ence, but this was instantly sup- pressed, “I have heard your statement, pris- oner at the bar,” was the judge’s com- ment, “and shall make a note of it; but what you have said can in no way interfere with the painful task which it is now my duty to perform. After a patient and exhaustive trial, you have been found guilty by a jury of your countrymen, of the murder of a man who had sought the hospitality of your roof, and with that finding I, as your judge, fully concur. You yourself admit that you did Ernest Norton to his death, despoiled him and threw his dead body into the river, though you} seek to invalidate this confession by at- tributing your crime to mischance. Of this I can take no cognizance. “You stand convicted of willful mur- | ¢ der, and the penalty thereof is death. The sentence of the court is that, at a time and place to be hereafter deter- mined, you be hanged by the neck until you are dead. And may the Lord have mercy upon your soul!” Richard Somerville’s face was dead- ly white and his lips tightly set as the dread words were spoken which con- signed him to an ignominious death, but he bore up under the terrible or- deal with iron nerve. He cast one last, swift look around him, and then, obey- ing a sign from the gaoler, walked with firm steps to the condemned cell awaiting him. His place was quickly filled by a notorious burglar, and the business of the court proceeded. “Well, well!” exclaimed Mrs. Baxter, “Only to think that the civil-spoken gentleman, who was so eager to obtain information about poor Mr. Norton, at Southampton should turn out to be the very man who murdered him! Come, my dear Miss Zana, let us see about some luncheon. I declare, I feel quite faint.” “A queer yarn that about the hypnot- ism,” muttered Josiah Skinner. “And he spoke as though he meant it. But, true or false, it will scarcely save his neck at this time of day.” (To be Continued.) THE WATER WE SHOULD DRIK. There Seems to Be No Fixed Rule About the Quantity. According to Prof. Allen, we should drink from one-third to two-fifths as many ounces as we weigh in pounds. Therefore, for a man weighing 163 pounds, there would be required from 56 to 64 ounces daily, or from one and a half to four pints. This the Journal of Hygiene regards as a very indefinite answer. The amount of water required depends on the season of the year, the amount of work done and the kind of food eaten. In hot weather we require more than in cold, because of the great- er loss through the skin, though this is in part made up by the lesser amount passed away through the kidneys. 1f a man labors very hard he requires more than if his labor is light. A man working in a foundry, where the tem- perature is high and the perspiration profuse, not infrequently drinks three or four gallons daily. If the food is stimulating and salty, more water is required than if it is bland. Vegetari- ans, and those who use much fruit, re- quire less water than these who eat salt fish and pork, and often get along on none except what is in their food. In most cases our instincts tell us how much water to drink far better than any hard or fixed rule. For ages they have been acquiring a knowledge of how much water to drink, and trans- mitting that knowledge to descendants, and if we follow them we shall not get far out of the way. It is of more use to us to know that pure water is essen- tial, and that impure water is one of the most dangerous of drinks, than to know how much of it is required daily. If one lives in a region where the wa- ter is bad, it should be boiled and put away in bottles, well corked, in an ice chest, and, in addition, one should eat all the fruit one can, if fruit agrees. Fruits contain not only pure water, but salts which are needed to carry on healthfully the functions of life.—Med- ical Times. It Killed Stonewall Jackson. The bullet which it was claimed was the direct cause of Stonewall Jackson’s death is now in possession of I. B. Wheeler of Highland Falls, N. Y. Mr. Wheeler has documents which clearly prove the authenticity of his claim. Wheeler's cousin was on Jackson's staff. Early in the morning of May 1, 1863, Jackson’s division, in accordance with the decision of a council of war, moved toward Chancellorsville. Lee had yielded to Jackson’s advice to flank the Union forces. The stratagem was a complete success, and Sickles’ col- umn went to pieces under the terrific onslaught of 25,000 graycoats. It was while reconnoitering in the darkness that evening that Jackson’s own men, mistaking their leader and his staff for Union cavalry, poured a shower of bul- lets into their midst, and, although sev- eral pierced the intrepid leader, it was the one in Mr. Wheeler’s possession that made the fatal wound. The surgeon who amputated Jack- son’s arm threw the bullet against the wall in a violent fit of anger, and Mr. Wheeler's cousin picked it up and car- ried it through the war. The former Confederate died long after the war, and Wheeler, while going through his effects recently, found the bullet and its history.—New York Herald. The Big Department Store. No other business that is conducted ander one roof equals the department store in magnitude of detail. Take, for instance, the case of one of the gi- ants of the species. 1t employs from 3,500 to 5,000 persons, according to the season. In a year it does nearly $10,- 000,000 of business. Its largest indi- vidual sale last year was an orchestri- on, for $4,500, and-its smallest a pater” clothespin, for 1 cent.’ During the holt day rush there were several days when its gross receipts ran over $100,000. It has more than seventy departments. To heat it, 100 miles of steam pipe are required, and the electric light plant would adequately equip a small city. It represents a rental of nearly $100,- 000 a year, and, at a conservative esti- mate, the daily expenses of the store are $5,000. When it is considered that this enormous sum is made up from the profits in sales, for the most part, in small parcels, one gets an inkling of the infinite care in detail and the per- fection which go to make such enter- prises as largely profitable as they are. A man who has himself conducted one of these businesses recently made this statement: “The profits of the department store are represented by the cash discounts on its bills.”—Scribner’s. Undeceived. 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