Omaha Daily Bee Newspaper, December 7, 1902, Page 31

OMAHA DAILY | BEE: SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7 1902 (Copyright, 102, by T. C, MeClure.) Synopsis of Previous Chapters. Chapters 1 to IV—A young doctor, Ralph Boyd, confides to his friend his appar- ently’ groundiess suspicion concerning his personal well-being and safety. This friend, Ambler Jevons, gives his sympathy and promises his help in case in need 'He 8 n the tea trade, but his favorite hobby investigating crime and unravellng my: terles. Boyd himself {s the son of an M. P. and assistant to Sir Bernara Eyton, He has an interview with his chief, and they discuss the fllness of old Mr, Henry Courtenay, who lives at Richmond Road Kew. Instantly the young doctor concelves the idea that his mysterious presentiment 18 connected with this family. Hlis interest in that home Is centered on Ethelwynn Mivart, Henry Courtenay's sister-in-law, Whose 'Madonna type of beauty exercis & fascination over him. He determin o spend the evening at Richmond Roa The domestic life of the Courtenays i stances the truth of the Bhake REoyerh, that May cannot wed Decembe . COUrlensy, young, gay, pretty, jterly out of sympathy with the elderly, short-tempered, invalid husband with whom ehe has linked her fate for mercenary considerations. Consequently she spends her evenings outside her home, and leaves the care of her husband very much to the nurse and her sister, Bthelwynn, On this garticular evening Ralph and Ethelwynn iscuss domestic matters in the drawing Toom. As usual, Mrs. Courtenay s out, Etheiwynn surprises Ralph by evincing a keen interest in Henry Courtenay's appar- ent improvement in health. After their tete-a-tete the lovers separate, Ralph Boyd returning home. He is roused from his slumbers early the following morning by a visit from Mr. Courtenay's footman, Short, who tells him that his master has been murdered. Chapters V_and VI—Short gives Dr. Boyd the whole story as he knows it.' The doctor sees Ethelwynn, who is in great terror. Ralph comes 'to the conclusion that the man was murdered in his sleep by a skiliful hand. Short is sent to the police station, and some detectives arrive. Accidentally ‘the doctor discovers a clue, which he has picked up at the bedside of the murdered man, He quietly transfers it to his pocket. Then comes the examination of the servants, and the premises ure care- ‘1Tully gone over. Ralph seiges the oppor- tunity of being alone a few moments, and, ‘after a glance at his find, is over- whelmed by the terrible truth. Chapters” VII and VIII—Ralph notices that Ethelwynn is wearing a cream chenille shawl, and in order to convince himseif of the truth of his sispicions, places his hand on it to feel the texture, Imme- diately after this Mrs. Courtenay arrives, in a state of wild excitement. When she knows her husband is dead she loses her senses, and after the doctor has restored her she appears to be suffering from a lapse of mem Finally she realizes the truth of her widowhood and collapses, oniy once rousing herself sufficiently to' pro- claim her freedom and to fling her wed- ding ring across the room. The doctor thinks he has obtained another clue in the shape of a long, thin knife of Indfan de- sign, which hangs in_ the hall, and which Short declares ho had armed himself with before making his tour of inspection round the grounds. This knife, the doctor is convinced, has inflicted the dead man's wound. At iast Ambler Jevons turns up, and, after lstentng patiently ( the Whole story, pays a visit to the dead man's room, ¥hich he caretully examines. He make ccplous notes, and finally, new idea, he rushes upstal ing the doctor at liberty to clie—a tiny bit of white chenille, with a emear of blood on It Chapters IX and X—The doctor is con- his beloved, Ethelwynn Mivart, , but, after carefully consid- ering the whole thing, he determines to say nothing of his suspicion to his friend, Jevons, until after the inquest. leaves the house In the poi lice and the reporters, and visits the two ‘women. Mr: ‘ourtel is full of self- reproach, but Ethelwynn has regained her customary easy manner and innocent ex- pression. She does not appear to like ibler Jevons, but breathes more freely when_she hears he has discovered nmhlns. Drs, Boyd and Farmer examine the wound. Bir Bernard arrives while the post-mortem is being made. In the evening Ambler Jevons calls on his friend at Harley Place. They discuss the murder, but come no uearer to its solution. At the inquest Short gte s evidence, his only lame statement ng that he rushed out to search the grounds. Ethelwynn gives her testimony sucoinetly, ~ Sir Bernard states that the wound which caused Henry Courtenay's death fs elght times larger inside than the exterior incision. ~After the inquest Boyd and Jevons depart together and dine at an inn. In their conversation Jevons turns Boyd's attention to the safe, which was in the deceased’s room, and which he wishes to examine. They go to Richmondroad, find the key, unlock the safe and proceed to pearch it. Amongst other documents I8 a small packet tied with pink tape. This Jevons passes to Boyd, who, after glancing @t the signature of the first'letter, utters a ery. He has obtained another clue, Ralph Boyd fon of the CHAPTER XI. Concerns My Private Aftairs. “What have you found there?’ inquired Ambler Jevons, quickly interested and yet surprised at my determination to conceal it from bim. “Bomething that concerns me, briefly. . ‘Concerns you?' he ejaculated. “I dom't onderstand. How can anything among the old man's private papers concern you?" I replied “This concerns me personally,”” 1 an- swered. “Surely that is suficient explana- tion." “No,” my friend sald. “Forgive me, Ralph, for speaking quite plainly, but in this affalr we are both working toward the me end—namely, to elucidate the mys- tery. We cannot hope for success If you are bent upon concealing your discoveries from me." declared doggedly. “What I have found only concerns myself.” He shrugged his shoulders with an air of distinct dissatistaction. “Even it It ls a purely private matter we are sursly good fri cognisant of one anothe: marked. “0f course,” I replied, dublously, “but only up to a certain point.” “Then, in other words, you imply that you can't trust me?’ “I can trust you, Ambler,” 1 answered calmly. ““We are the best of friends and 1 hope we shall always be so. Will you not forgive me for refusing to show you these letters? “1 only ask one question. Have they anything to do with the matter we are in- vestigating "’ 1 hesitated. With his quick perception he saw that a lie was not ready upon my Ups. “They have. Your silence tells me #o. In that case it is your duty to show me them. | there was a distinct 1f covert “You think then that the motive of the crime was jealousy?” “The letter makes It quite plain” he answered huskily. “Glve me the others Let me examine them. I know how se- vere this blow must be to you, old fellow.” he added, sympathetically Yes, it has staggered me,” T stammered I'm utterly dumbfounded by the unmex- pected revelation!" and I handed him the packet of correspondence, which he placed upon the table, and seating himself, com- menced eagerly to examine letter after letter. While he was thus engaged I took up the first letter, and read it through—right to the bitter end. 1t was apparently the last of a long cor- respondence for all the letters were ar- ranged chronologically, and fhis was the Inst of the packet. Written from Neneford Manor, Northamptonshire, and vaguely dated “Wednesday,” as Is & woman's habit. It was addressed to Mr. Courtenay and ran as follows | when the crushing blow fell so suddenly pon her Ethelwynn was a woman of extraordinary character, full glowing romance. To be tremblingly alive to the gentle impressions and to be able to preserve, when the prosecution of a | design requires it, an immovable heart amidst even the most imperious causes of subduing emotion, is perhaps not an im- possible constitution of mind, but it is the utmost and rarest endéarment of humanity. I knew her as a woman of bjgh mental powers touched with a melaneholy sweet- ness. 1 was now aware of Mhe cause of that melancholy. Yet it was apparent that the serious and energetic part of her character was founded on deep passion, for after marriage with the man she had herself loved and had threatened she had actually come there beneath their roof and lived as her sister's companion, stifing all the hatred that had entered her heart and preserving an outward calm that had no doubt entirely disarmed him. Such a circumstance was extraordinary. To me, as to Ambler Jevons, who knew her well, it seemed almost inconceivable that old Mr. Courtenay should allow her to live there atter recelving such a wild communi- cation as that final letter. Espectally curi- | ous, too, that Mary had never suspected or ‘dllcovered her sister’s jealousy. Yet so | skiltully had Ethelwynn concealed her in- ‘len(lon of revenge that both husband and | wife had been entirely deceived. Love, considered under its poetical aspect, is the union of passion and imagination. I | had foolishly belleved that this calm, sweet- 1GLANCED AT ETHELWYNN AND AT T HAT INSTANT SHE TURNED HER HEAD AND HER EYES MET MINE. STARTED QUICKLY AND HER FAC E BLANCHED TO THE LIPS. “Words cannot express my contempt for & man who breaks his word as casily as A year ago, when you guest, you told me that you loved me and urged me to Marry you. At first 1 laughed at your proposal; then when I found you really serious, I pointed out the difference of our ages. You, in return, declared that you loved me with all the ardor of a young man; that I was your ideal; and you promised by all you held most -sacred, that if I consented 1 should never regret, I believed you, and believed the false words of feigned devo- tion which you wrote to me later under seal of strictest secrecy. You went to iro, and none knew of our secret—the secret that you intended to make me your wite. And how have you kept that prom- {se? Today, my father has Informed me, that you are to marry Mary! Imagine the blow to me! My fathor expects me to rejoice, little dreaming how I have been fooled; how lightly you have treated a woman's affections and aspirations. Some there are who, finding themselves in my position, would place in Mary's hands the packet of your correspondence which is before me as I write, and thus open her eyes to the fact that she is but the dupe of & man' devold of honor. Shall I do so? No. Rest assured that I shall not. If my sister is happy let her remain so. My vendetta lles not in that direction. The fire of hatred may be stified, but it can never be quenched. We shall be quits some day, and you will regret bitterly that you have brokem your word so lightly. My revenge, the vengeance of a jealous woman, will fall upon you at a moment and in & manner you will little dream of. I return you your letters, as you may not care for them to fall Into other hands, and from today shall mever again refer to what has passed. 1 am young, and may still obtaln an upright and honorable man as husband. You are old, and are tottering slowly to your doom. Farewell. “ETHELWYNN MIVART, The letter fully explained & circum- stance of which 1 had been entirely ignor- ant, namely_that the woman I had loved had actually been engaged to old Mr. Cour- tenay before her sister had married him. Its tenor showed how intensely antagonis- tic she was towards the man who had fooled her, and in the concluding sentence threat—a threat of bitter revenge. She had returned the old ma letters | apparently in ordef to show that in her | hand she held a further and more powerful “This e a private affair of my own,” I| weapon; she had not sought to break off his marriage with Mary, but had rather stood by, swallowed her anger, and calmly calculated upon a flerce vendetta at a mo- ment when he would least expect it. Truly these startling words spoken by Sir Bernard had been full of truth. I re- membered them now, and disceraed his meaning. He was at least an honest, uo- right man who, although sometimes a trifie eccentric, had my interests deeply at heart. In the progress I had made in the protession 1 owed much to him. and even in my private affairs he had sought to guide me, although I had, alas, disregarded his repeated warnings 1 took up one after another of the lotters my triend bad examined, and found it to be the correspondence of a woman who was_elther ‘angling after a wealthy hus- band or who loved him with all Ahe streneth of her affection. Some of the communi- cations were full of passion, and betrayed that poetry of soul that was innate in her The letters were dated from Neneford. from Oban, and from various Mediterranean ports, where she had gone vach'ing with | | concentration of all the interests that be- | | voiced woman had loved me, but those let- | ters made it plain that I had been utterly | fooled. “Le mystere de l'existence,” said Madam de Stael to her daughter, “c'est la rapport de nos erreurs avec nos peines.” And although there was in her, in her character and in her (errible situation a long to humanity, she was nevertheless a murderel “The truth is here,” remarked my friend, laying his hand upon the heap of tender correspondence which had been brought to such an abrupt conclusion by the letter have printed in its entirety. “It s a strange, romantic story, to say the least.” you really believe that she is I exclaimed, hoarsely. He shrugged his shoulder significantly, but no word escaped his lips. In the silence that fell between us I glanced at him. His chin was sunk upon his breast, his brows knit, this thin fingers played 1dly with the plain gold ring. “Well?" 1 managed to exclaim at last. “What shall we do?" “Do?" he echoed, “‘What can we do, my dear fellow? That woman's future is in your hands.” “Why in mine?” I asked. “In yours also, surely.” “No,” he answered resolutely, taking my hand and grasping it warmly. *No, Ralph; I know—I can see how you are suf- tering. You belicved her to be a pure and honest woman—one above the common run—a woman fit as helpmate and wife. Well, I too, must confess myself very much misled. I belleved her to be all that you imagined; indeed, If her face be any cri- terion she I8 utterly unspoiled by the world and its wickedness. In my caretul studies in physiognomy I have found that very sel- dom does a perfect face like hers cover an evil heart. Hence, T confess that this dis- covery has amazed me quite as much as it has you. I somehow feel— “I don't belleve it!" T cried, interrupting him. “I don't belleve, Ambler, that she murdered him—T can’t belleve it. Hers is not the face of a murderess.” “Faces sometimes deceive,” ho sald qui- etly. “Recollect that a clever woman can glve a truthtul appearance to a lie where a man utterly falls." “I know—I know. But even with this circumstantial proot I can't and won't be- lieve it “Please yourself, my dear fellow.” he answered. “I know it is hard to believe 11l of a woman whom one loves so devotedly as you've loved Bthelwyn. But be brave bear up, and face the situation like a man." “1 am facing it," I sald resolutely. “I will trace it by refusing to belleve that she killed him. The letters are plaln enough. She was engaged secretly to old Courtenay, who threw her over In favor of her sister. But s there anything so very extraordinary in that? One hears of such things very often.” “But the final letter?” “It bears evidence of belng written in the first moments of wild anger on realizing that she had been abandoned in favor of Mary. PPobably she has by this time quite forgotten the words she wrote. And in any case the fact of her living be- neath the same roof, supervising the house- hold and attending to the sick man during | Mary's absence, entirely negatives any idea | of revenge," Jevons dmiled dublously and I myself | knew that my argument was not altogether logical. “Well?" I continued. your opinion “No. It is not,” he replied, bluntly. “And is not that “Then what of pleturesque charm and| her sister's | #l cussed it a dozen times, but could arrive at must, sooner or later, betray her guillt A woman may be clever, but she can mever successtully cover the crime of murder." “Then you are willing that 1 finder those letters, shall burn them? And further, that no word shall pass regarding this discover: “Most willin he replied. “Come,” he added, commencigg to gather them together “Let us lose no time, or perhaps the con- stable on duty below or one of the plain clothes men may come prying in here.” Then at his direction and with his as- sistance 1 willingly tore up each letter in small pleces, placed the whole in the grate | where dead cinders still remained, and with a vesta set a light to them. For a few moments they blazed flercely up the chim- ney, then died out, leaving only black tin- der. “We must make a feint of having tried to light the fire,” sald Jevons, taking an old newspaper, twisting it up, and setting light to it in the grate, afterwards stirring up the dead tinder of the letters, “I'll remark in- cldentally to the constable that we've tried | to get a fire, and aidn’t succeed. That will prevent Thorpe poking his nose into t." 80 when the whole of the letters had been destroyed, any traces of thelr remains effaced and the safe re-locked, we went down stairs—not, however, before my com- panion had made a satisfactory explanation to the constable and entirely misled him as to what we had been doing. ot CHAPTER XII. 1 Recelve a Visitor, The adjourned inquest was resumed on the day appointed in the big room at the SHE Star and Garter at Kew, and the publle, eager as ever for semsational details. over- flowed through the bar and out into the street until the police were compelled to disperse the crowd. The evening papers had worked up all kinds of theories. some worthy of attention and others ridiculous: hence the excitement and interest had be- come Intense. . The extraordinary nature of the wound which caused Mr. Courtenay's death was the chiet element of mystery. Our medical evidence had produced a sensation, for we had been agreed that to inflict such a wound with any instrument which could pass through the exterior orifice was an ab- solute fmpossibility. Sir Bernard and my- self were still both bewildered. In the con- sulting room &t Harley street we had dis- no definite conclusion as to how such a terrible wound could possibly have been caused. I noticed a change in Sir Bernard. , He scemed mopish, thoughtful and eomewhat despondent. Usually he was a busy, bus- tling man, whose manner with his patients was rather brusque and who, unlike the majority of my own profession, went to the point at once. There is no profession in which one is compelled to exercise so much affected patience and courtesy as in the profession of medicine. Patlents will | bore you to death with long and tedious histories of all their ailments since tho days when they chewed a guttapercha teething ring, and to appear impatient is to | court a reputation for flippancy and want of attention. Great men may hold up their hands and cry “Enough!” But small men | must sit with pencil poised, apparently in- tensely interested, and listen through until the patient has exhausted his long-winded recollection of all his ills Contrary to his usual custom, Sir Bernard | did not return to Hove each evening, but remained at Harley strect—dining alone off a chop or a steak and going out after- ward, probably to his club, His change of | manner surprised me. I noticed in him | distinct signs of nervous disorder and on | several afternoons he sefit round to me at | the hospital, saying that he could not see his patients and asking me ‘to run back to Harley street and take his place. On the evening before the adjourned in- quest I remarked to him that he did not appear very well and his reply, in a strained, despondent voice, was: “Poor Courtenay has gone. He was my best friend." Yes, it was as I expected; he was sorrow- | the verge of collapse. : : x § § i 2 any d. ing. hundreds of times—Omaha citizens say so. Mr. W. R. Taylor of ‘Wood Lumber Co., On the Brink Many a man sticks to his desk until outraged nature gives way and heis on 5*“%%5‘ NENENC IR PR IR PR PR IRENE e[k It's only a backache—he declares—will be well in a few days—but it doesn’t get well. develop. ble fangs in the is a warning cry must be heeded. Doan’s from the verge many a year of The Their testimon Here is the statement of one Omaha man: Webster street, employed says: Pills from Kuhn & Co.'s drug I do not v and I ha med his friends. Nevertheless, to wilful murder. tion of the disease. not for you to considered, gentlemen. whether or not this case is one of murd assassin. To comment at length on ing the tragedy is, I think, needless full and explanatory, especially the Boyd, both known in the profession, friends of the deceased. were newspapers, but truth to be.” sitting immovable, breathless, statuesque. She watched the foreman of the in the immediate vicinity. The versed audibly. They, too. were tional “‘copy.” ““That is unnecessary, man. ‘““We are agreed unanimously.” Upon what?" “Our verdict Is that the sons unknown." “Very well, gentlemen rived at no other verdict of the assassin.” mine. She started quickly, blanched to the lips, her out. . rushed away; to get a word with him. had agreed to destroy. emerged from Sir Bernard's ing over his friend When we had reassembled at the Star | and Garter he entered quietly and took a | scat beslde me, just before the commence- ment of the proceedings. The coroner, baving read over all the | depositions taken on the first occasion, | asked the police if they had any further | evidence to offer, whereupon the local in- spector of the T division answered, with an alr of mystery: “We have nothing, sir, which we can | make public. Active inquiries are still in progress.” “No further medical evidence coroner. I turned towards Sir Bernard inquiringly, and as I d1d so my eye caught a face hid- den by a black vell, seated among the pub- lic at the far side of the room. It was Ethelwynn herself—come there to watch the proceedings and hear with her own ears whether the police had obtalned traces of the assassin! Her anxious countenance shone through her veil haggard and white; her eves were fixed upon the coroner. She hung breath- asked the me. smoke So with me, we entered as usual, together he drinks he “The affair hourly.” “How?" I inquired quickly. “I've been down to Kew this afternoon, was his rather ambiguous response becomes more but I returned at once." “And what have you discovered? Any- While the improvement was thing fresh?" functional powers of m 5o’ Tespended MaRIF. YA freah oppression, nausea an fact or two—facts that still increase the the nervousness and headache passed awa, mystery.” E e P OB R and healthy one: 1 am’in “No, Ralph, old chap. When I am cer- you for your blessed remedy, tain of their true importance I'll explain At present I desire to pur- them to you. sue my own methods umtil clear conclusion.” 1 arrive at This distaclination to tell me the truth was annoying. He had always been quite 1 a short time. Now this fact appears to hate been well-known to himself, to the members of his household, and probably to most of he was found dead in circumstances which point strongly It he was actually mur- dered, the assassin, whoever he was. had some very strong incentive In killing him at once, because he might well have waitud another few months for the fatal termina- That fact, however. is You are here for the sole purpose of deciding 1f, in your opinion, it is, then it becomes your duty to return a verdict to that effect and leave it to the police to discover the the many mysterious circumstances surround- The depositions I have just read are sufficiently evi- dence of Sir Bernard Eyton and of Doctor of whom, besides being well personal In considering vour | verdict I would further beg of you not to | heed any theories you may have read in the | adjudge the matter from a fair and impartial standpoint, and give your verdict as you honestly believe the The dead silence which had prevailed dur- ing the coroner’s address was at once bro- ken by the uneasy moving of the crowd. I glanced across at Ethelwynn, and saw her fury whispering to two or three of his colleagues twelve tradesmen consulted together in an under- tone while the reporters at the table con- disap- pointed at being unable to obtain any sen- f you wish to retire fn order to con- sider your verdict, gentlemen, you are quite | at liberty to do so,” remarked the coroner. replied the fore- | deceased was wiltully murdered by some person or per- Of course in my position I am not permitted to giye you ad- vice, but I think that you could have ar- The police will use every endeavor to discover the identity T glanced at Ethelwynn and at that in- stant ehe turned her head and her eyes met tace then she rose un- steadily and with the crowd went slowly Ambler Jevons, who had been seated at the opposite side of the room, got up and therefore 1 had no chance He had glanced et me significantly and, I knew well what passed through his mind. Like myself, he | was thinking'of that strange letter we had found among the dead man's effects and About 9 o'clock that same night I had and was | strolling slowly round to my ‘rooms, when my friend's cherry voice sounded behind He was on his way round to have a explatned. and after 1 had | turned up the light and brought out the flung himself into his habitual chair and, stretching himself wearily, said: mysterious “1 had to go to my office directly after the inquest, He nodded. | “And you are now prosecuting them in | the direction of Ethelwynn?" | No,” he answered. “Not exactly.” | 1 looked at his face and saw upon it an| expression of profound mysteriousness. His dark well-marked countenance was a com- plex one always, but at that moment I was utterly unable to discern whether he spoke the truth or whether he only wished to mis- lead my suspicions into a different channel That he was the acme of shrewdness, that | his powers of deduction were extraordinary | and that his patience in unraveling a secret was almost beyond comprehension I knew well. Even those great trackers of crimi- nals, Shaw and Maddox of New Scotland Yard, held him in respect and admired his | acute intelligence and marvellous power of | perception. Yet his attempt to evade a question which s0 closely concerned my own peace of mind and future happiness tried my patlence. If | he had really discovered some fresh facts 1| considered it but right that I should be ac- quainted with them. “Has your opinion changed as to the identity of the person who committed the crime?” I asked him rather abruptly. “Not in the least,” he responded, slowly lighting his foul pipe. *How can it, In the | face of the letter we burnt?" “Then you think that jealousy was the ! cause of the tragedy? That she— *No, not jealous ing quite calmly. “The facts I have dis- covered go to sbow that the motive was | not_jealousy.” “Hatred, then?" “No, not hatred.” “Then what?" “That's just where I fall to form a theory,” he answered, after a brief silence, | during which he watched the blue smoke | curl upward to the somber ceiling of my room. “In a few days I hope to discover the motive." #You will let me assist you?" I urged, It gets worse anéd worse. Diabetes follows and then without furthev warning Bright's Disease fastens its terri- No man can afford to ne have brought back many a man and woman lease of life to thousands of kidne have done at the Omaha For a copple of years my back ached, the secretions became highly colored and sharp twinges caught me in the kidneys when stoop-* Procuring Doan’s Kidne, and Douglas streets, 1 took them and they cured me. that Doan’s Kidney Pills are a reliable re my friends about them.” At all Drug Stores, 50¢ per box. he interrupted, speak- | “I am at your disposal at any Urinary troubles system. ect backache, It of overworked kidneys and Kidney Pills of the grave—have saved suffering and give a new vietims, here in Omaha 'ou can prove it it right positive— Hard S ISR WS WIS WR I W S B store, corner 1 hesitate in saying spoken to several of N Foster-Milburn Co., Buffalo, N. Y. BEA A RETR WEIE TERRPRIE WA S NEWXR 378 3 312 0, he. answered, arc prejudiced, Ralph still love that woman." A sigh escaped me. What he sald was, alas, too true. I had adored her through those happy months prior to the tragedy. She had come into my lonely bachelor life as the one ray of sunlight that g me hope and happiness and I had lived for her alone. Because of her I had striven to rise In the profession and had labored hard so that in a little while I might be in a position to marry and buy that quiet country practice that was my ideal istence. And even now, with my broken by the knowledge of her engagement to the man now fess that I nevertheless still entertained a strong affection for her. The memory of a past love is often more sweet than the love itselt—and to men it is so very often fatal I bhad risen to pour out some whisky for my companion when of a sudden my man opened the door and announced: “There's a lady to see you, sir.” “A lady!" we both exclaimed with one voice. “Yes, sir,” and he handed me a card. 1 glanced at it. My visitor was the very decisively You You unfortunately ex- 1dol previous dead, I con- | last person I desired to meet at that mo- ment, for she was none other than Ethel- ‘wynn herself. “I'll go, old chap,” Jevons cried, spring- ing to his feet aud draining his glass at a single draught. “She musn't meet me here. Goodbye till tomorrow. Remember, betray no sign to her that you know the truth. It's certainly a curious affair, as it now stands, but depend upon it that there's more complications and mystery in it than we have yet discovered, (To Be Continued.) Lehigh Valley Rallroad between Chicago and New York or Phila- delphia. Superb vestibule trains through without change. Stop-over allowed at Niagara Fal MISS JULIA H. HEWES, ROXBURY (Boston), MASS. Treasurer Roxbury Household Economics. that 1 am well once more. have brought on an inter-abdomi and thus draggi hardly stand at time each day in bed. were any help to me, until a neij Before the first bottle was used I felt 12 Brookford Street, Roxsury (Bostox), Mass., Feb. 28, 1902, [ am pleased to add my testimony on hehalf of your Wine of Cardui. 1 cannot find language to express my full gratitude ‘and joy over the fact The wearing of corsets too tight seemed to nal pressure, weakening the ligaments ng the uterus down until 1 was not fit to walk and could : My brain seemed clouded, wei ergies and gradually sapping the strength, weakenin |ln fecting ‘E;‘ under?_lfming the tissues, was unable to perform my household duties and passed a large part of What todo I knew not, no medg:inen nor m? soctou hbor advised me to try Wine of Cardui. ghinidown the en- the heart's action, I gradually became so weak that so much better I hardly believed it { was permanent, but my improvement went steadily on and within four months I was like a new and well woman once more. gradual I felt it was permanent. The stomach first became greatly improved, the usual heart burn passed away, my appetite increased, y sleep became regular and restful and gradually from & weak, sickly woman I became o strong perfect health now and extremely grateful to a boon to sick women, e bl HEN a woman suffers from fe- is to be dome male weakness she is sick all over. Bearing down pains I asked, natural transition trank and open, explaining all his theorles “‘change of life'" lessly upon his every word. Hye o and showing to me any weak points In the through the- “We have no further evidence,” replied Worn out by her uncle, Sir Thomas Henton, the great Lancashire coal owner. Sometimes she had 1 protested again, but he overwhelmed my arguments. In common fairness to after a pause. “The matter entirely rests with you, . years of suffering, thousands of di w " the inspector. cireumstantial evidence.. Yet suddenly, as never come alone, ere are irreg- | courage i - bim 1 ought not, 1 knew, to keep back the | Addressed bim as “Dearest,” at others as | Ralph,” he replied. “I know what I should| There was a pause. The public who were | It #éemed to me, he bad become filled with ular menses, pains in the back u;'d :‘e,lvr;‘tzldv:?f‘:]l::!‘lr:-;uo::nq)u?:’ truth. And yet it was the greatest and | “Beloved,” usually signing herself “Your |do in a similar case.’ there 1 search of some 8olution of the he- | ® Strange mistrust. Why I could not con- Piosmly, day by day, wost terrible blow that had ever fallen upon me. He saw that I was crushed and stammering, and he stood by wonderink. “Forgive me, Ambler,” I urged again. *“When you have read this letter you will fully understand why I have endeavored to conceal it from you: why, if you were not resent here at this moment I would burn them all, and not leave a trace behind.” Then I handed it to him. He took it eagerly, skimmed it throukh, wod started just as I bad started when he saw the signature. pon his face was a blank exphession, and he returned it to me without “Well lon?" “My opinion is the same &s your own, Ralph, old fellow,” he answered slowly. looking me straight in the face. “It I amazing—startling—tragic.” 1 jked. ““What Is your opia- Own." 8o full were they of the ardent pas- slon characteristic of her that thev held me in amazement. It was passion developed under its most profoutd and seriou: Dect thoy showed the serious and thoughtful, nor the brilliant side of intellect In Ethelwynn's character the passionate and the imaginative were blended equally and in the highest conceivable degree as combined with delicate female nature Those letters, although written to & man in whose heart romance must long ago be dead, showed how complex was her char- acter, how fervent, enthusiastic agd self- forgetting her love. At first I belleved that those passionate outpourings were merely desigued to captivate the old gentleman for his momey, but when I read on I saw how intense her passion became toward (he end and how the culmination of it all was that wild, reproachful missive written “What would you do? urged, eagerly. “I should take the whole of the corre- spondence, just at It is, place it in the| grate there and burn it,” he said, 1 was not prepared for such a suggestion. A similar idea had occurred to me, but I feared to suggest to him such a mode of defeating the ends of justic “But it 1 do that will you give me a yow of secrecy?” I asked, quickly. *Recol- lect that such a step is a serious offense against the la “When I pass out of this room I shall have mo further recollection of every hav- ing scen any letters,” he answered, again 8iving mq his hand. “In this matter my desire 1 only to help you. If, as you be- lleve, Ethelwynn is innocent, then no harm Advise me,” I wildering mystery which had been pub- lished in every paper through the land were disappointed. They hed expected at least to hear some expert evidence—which. if not always reliable, is always Interesting. But there seemed an inclination on the part of the police to maintain a silence which in- creased rather than lessened the mystery. “Well, gentlemen,” exclaimed Dr. Dip- leck, turning at last to the twelve local tradesmen who formed the jury, “‘you have heard the evidence in this curious case. and your duty Is to decide in what manner the deceased came by his death—whether by ae- cldental means or by foul play. I think In the eircumstances you will have very little dificulty in deciding. The case is & mvs- terious one—a very mysterious one. The deceased was a gentleman of means who can be done In destroying the letters, whereas (f she is actually the assassin she was suffering from a malignant di . and that disease must have proved fatal within celve. “‘But surely you can tell me the nature There need of your discoveries?' I sald be no secrets between us in this affair.” “No, Ralph. But I'm superstitious enough to believe that ill-luck follows a premature exposure of one' His excuse was & lame one—a very lame to show him that I read through the transparent attempt to one. I smiled—in orde: mislead me. “I might have refused to show you that “Yet our interests being mutual I handed It to letter of Ethelwynn' I protested you." “'And it 1s well that you did." “Why?" “‘Because knowledge of it has changed the whole course of my inquiries. “Changed them from one direction to an- othert™ uching muscles and sinews all over the body. The nerves are wrecked. The digestion is bad and even the brain isclouded and dull. And Wine of Cardui will relieve these ailments, all these symptoms of the one real trouble—female weakness. Wine of Cardui prepares the young girl for tho st coming of womanhood by starting properly and regulating the menstrual flow. " It makes pregnancy possible for barren wives who aro ept childless by female weakness. It dse Eain of wo- cs every ache and manhood and insures a healthy and nearer and nearer to an invalid rave. They have abandoned the ope of healih and have given up tho fight for life. They forget that Wine of Cardui is aremedy that has cured over & million women of troubles such as theirs, No suffering woman should give up until she has given Wine of Cardui a trial. Thedford's Black-Draught regulates the bowels, tones up the liver, kidneys and stom- sk, and assets grealy in o cure 1l draggists. well 81,00 botiles of Wine of Cardui and 25c. of Thedford's Blnck-Dnugém:hqu