The Cambria freeman. [volume] (Ebensburg, Pa.) 1867-1938, 1877-05-04

sion tnaC MUS. SweneyS s servants must
have committed the murder, for the sake
of plumber. He acted upon this suspicion
at once, and ordered the arrest of old Solo
mon Goshare and Aunt Jerusha Sears be-
fore even viewing the body.
They were, however, permitted to tell
their story, and then, it appeared that
they alone knew anything about the mys-
terious murder, they were retained as
witnesses. There was no evidence upon
which they could be committed, but the
coroner did not feel justified i'll letting
them &C free.
The funeral took place in due time, and
the excitement which the murder caused in
that quiet community subsded. One or
two strangers about this time took up their
temporary abode in the village, and as they
came quite unheralded, and without osten-
sible business, curiosity concerning them
soon banshed every other interest.
Mrs. Sweeney had lived among them as a
stranger. She had no friends, few re latves
and no visitors. 1t was not even known
whence sue came. Her name was evident
ly a foreign one, but she was evidently
an American. Where her life had been
spent, or who was the husband, and who
the associates of her youth, nobody could
succeed in learning. Even old Jerusha did
not know, or, if she knew, did not impart
the secret. Three quiet years, unmarked
by any change, had Mrs. Sweeney passed i'll
her cottage near Bennington. No stIan-
gers had ever visited her. except occa-
sions lawyer from a distant city, who
came on business. and who came as soon as
tidings of her death reached him, produced
the papers necessary to give warrant to
his acts, and then took possession of the
cottage and all it contained. He removed
Mrs. 5 Seney's papers, jewels and such val
uablcs as were most portable, and left the
a..
Jerusha, who was once more at liberty. If
Mrs Sweeney had any friends they commu-
nicated with the lawyer. Bennington peo-
pie knew nothing of them. Mrs. sweeney
had lived among them mystery, and her
death was the crowning incident of that
mystery.
BY direction Of the coroner, Aunt Jerusha
had faithfully preserved the lock of hair
which had been clincled in the dead hand.
When the lawyer came and removed tue
effects of the deceased lady he had taken
this, much against the VIII of Aunt Jerusha,
who expected some dire penalty of the law
to bcfall her for permitting it To be remov-
ed from her possession. But no disastrous
results followed. Days heightened into
weeks, aud weeks into months, and when
the almost forgotten murder WAS mentioned
in Bennington. it WAS as a matter destined
to be forever hidden. Everything had as
SuTncU It's usual DOnoLDlOuS COuTSe. he
strangers who came soon after the murder
had long disappeared. 1t was now known
that they were detectives, and had been
foiicd i'll their investigations. Suspicion
had never fastened upon any one III Ben
nington, and no stranger had been seen in
the neigh Oorhood previous to the murder.
Yet no one doubted that there must have
been one, who disappeared as soon as the
fatal deed was comm itted-one to whom
haY lncly nf hair clntcipH in a v <
death spasm belonged. And SO two years
went by.
Aunt Jerusha, taking her solitary break
fast one morning, was startled by loud,
long knocking at the door. The long un-
used knockcr creaked under the vigol Gus
blows dealt by the newcomer, and through
the empty passages and closed up rooms
the echoes answered loudly to the unac-
custumed sound. With many groans and
exclamations Aunt Jerusha FASTENED to the
door.
a dark young man stood there, evident
ly impatient, for he had just lifted his hand
to the knocker the second time.
'Mrs. Sweeney" he said, "Does she not
live here %
.'She used to-" replied Aunt Jerusha !;
''but she's been dead these two ycals.-
What do you waut?''
81 want to come in at present. and after
ward | shall want some breakfast, and
then a room prepared for me, and some
talk with you, perhaps. L may want other
things but can tell you better hereafter. i"
"You can't come in till | know who you
are. And as to staying here and getting
breakfast. it's agin' my orders to have any
company"
"A fig for your orders,' answered the
stranger, rudely pushing past her. 'l'm
Macbeth Sweeney, and my father was the
IL.
she claimed, but as doubt. At any rate
| have a right here, and it will not be well
for you to dispute it,"
"Be you Miss Sweney's son?' asked
Aunt Jerusha, as with pale, scared face she
followed him into the parlor.
"The Signora Sweeney is my mother,' he
answered haughtily. "And now be so
good as to open these blinds and bring me
some breakfast. But first show me to my
bedroom"
"There's no room ready but the one that
used to be Miss Sweney's," said Aunt
Jerusha, tremblingly, 'and nobody's slept
there since we laid her on the bed there
with that great cash in her throat. We
never found out who numbered the roor
lady. Is it that you have come about -
"Wll you stop your prating ard show
me the room, woman ?'' exclaimed the
stranger. advancing threateuingly. Aud
Aunt JeruSlla was cOmpeiieu TO UNLOCK lfe
door of that room associated i'll her mind
with sucil dreadful recolections, and usher
him across that threshold only to be crossed
by her. with awe and trembling, on her
days of cleaning and inspection.
In half an hour she brought him break
fast, and he detained her to answer numer-
Gus questions relative to the late inmate of
the house But he calculated too little on
the native slirewdness of his witness. Aunt
Jerusba was firmly determined that no in
formation should be given until she knew
whether this intrusive guest came as
friend or foe to her late mistress. On this
subject the nature of his questions served
very soon to convince her. Macbeth Swe-
ney was the son of the man whom Mrs,
sweeney had once called her husband, and
it was very evident that his feelings were
inimical to her, and that his enmity had
followed her beyond the grave.
a: the close of their conference, Aunt