The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1882-12-22
SELECT STORY.
A MAN IN THE COACH.
BY G. l.. iIILDRETiI.


blasts came roaring through the noun
tain gorges as if bent upon overturning
the numbering old stage. II had begun
to snow, too, and the wheels creaked
heavilyt trough the drifts, threatening
a complete standstill at no distant mo
ment
Wrapped in my cloak / lay shiverinr
in corner of the vehicle. the sole pas
senger, in the very worst frame of mind.
| was a disappointed and dshcartpned
man. | was then at the outset of my
career as n detective, young and ambi.
tious. Hitherto had been intrusted
with no case of Importance, but on this
occasion fortune had thrown grand
opportunity of making n reputation in
my way,only to tlout me with complete
failure.
The case was one of murder, a very
interesting one from its complicated
and mysterious character. James Platt.
a well-known citizen of N, a vii
lage in Northern Vermont, had been
found dead in a pit beside the very
road l was now travelling. There were
marks of violence upon his person.
death having resulted from heavy
blow wi h a wooden cudgei upon the
back of the head. Robbery could no,
have been the motive, since large sum
of money was left untouched in his
pockets. The man was not known to
have an enemy in the world, and the
most searching inquiry into his private
history revealed no secret enmity or
quarrel. The only person in any way
interested was his nephew, Thomas
Judson, his only relative and heir at
law.
This individual had been the first
object of my suspicious, unfounded it
should seem. Personally he impressed
me unfavorably. He was one of those
rigid Journalists whose very freedom
from all of the petty weaknesses of
men is prima facie evidence of the
capabiity of crimes of greater magni-
tude at any rate in my experience
with humanity. He was pale faced |
pale-haired, light-eyed and altogether
washed out-lookiDg person, with soft
voice and quiet manner, and withal in
| great favor with the tea drinking COS |
sips of N. His past record, so far
as could get it, was simply perfect.
AT the death of his uncle, moreover, he |
was known to be in possession of |
several thousand dollars in cash. While
he was the dead mans heir he exhibit |
ed no lmpatence to know the terms of |
his will or to benefit thereby. On the
contrary, he seemed to be crushed with |
sorrow, and no one lent my efforts TO
discover the assassin such ready aid as
he.
If there had been any plausible
doubt it was, to say the least, baffled
| by the fact that he could, if necessary,
have a nearly perfect alibi. l say,
nearly, because there was, to my think
ing, flaw in it. AT quarter to he
| was seen in conversation with the dead
man on the corner of the village street.
where they separated, the uncle going
down the road toward his home, a
little way out of town, and the nephew
proceeded to attend a church sociable
at the town church. He was known
to have arrived here, certainly, at a
quarter past s. The evidence as to
time was doubtful, no one being able
to swear to the exact moment of his
arrival. There was, however, in nv
view the possible hiatus of twenty
minutes, it requiring only ten minutes
to reach the church from the point
where he had last been seen
1t must not be imagined that |
CLEANED these fragments through Jud
sons own testimony. His name never
appeared III connection with the affair,
and If | had venturcd TO hint at his
possible completely, should have been
hooted out of the village by his indig-
nant neighbors, Such information as
acquired was through the medium of
patient and cautious study of all of the
points presented. When | had sum
med them up, had no evidence that
would hold water for single moment.
was thus at a standstill, and after
short interval of obstinate waiting
started for the city, disappointed and
disgusted.
The coach passed the verv spot where
the deed had been committed, and as
the vehicle jolted up to the place |
poered out of the window to catch
glimpse of it. AT that moment, with
heavy thump, the coach stopped, the
door flew open, admitting a second pas
senger, who threw himself into the
corner facing me- and the coach pro
ceeded.
l was somewhat astonished that
passenger should wait for the coach in
such place. To say nothing of the
uncomfortable proximity of the scene
OF the murder, there was no dwelling
within n quarter of a mile, and it was
altogether the most desolate upon the
road. With the instinct of my profes.
sion, | examined my neighbor closely
but cautiously.
There was only one smoky lamp in
the interior of the coach, and the pas
senger sat Immediately beneath it in
the shadow, lie appeared to be an
elderly and rather feeble parsonage, but
! could discern little more, for he was
muilled TO the eyes, and his hat was
pulled well down upon his forehead,
There was something namelessly dis
agreeable in his presence-a feeling of
inward repugnance and revolt such as |
had never before experienced 1t was
allied to such dread and disgust as one
might inyoluntarily draw back with
from a person suffering from an infcc
tious disease, So strong did the feeling
become that | turned away and buried
my head in my cloak in the effort to
forget him. Presently became aware
that he was gazing at me with strange
inteGtncss
In spite of myself, | turned again
and met his eyes with my own, and for
a moment we sat airing straight into
each others faces, During that mo
ment n shock passed over me, like that
OF heavy current of galvanism, My
flesh crept with internal cold, my hair
stood up, and every nerve in my body
thrilled with something very like hor-