The Columbian. [volume] (Bloomsburg, Pa.) 1866-1910, 1883-09-21
BLOOMSBURY, PA, FRIDAY. SEPTEMBER 81, 1883

ed from the D0dy. Inc sneets ana
clothing were soaked in the blood,
which had ran from the ghastly wound
in torrents.
The blood had not yet coagulated
nor hardened into clots
The hostler and the few people who
were early patrons of the bar was
summoned TO behold the ghastly spec.
tacle; the stable-boy was despatched
to the village to secure the presence Of
local police official and Magistrate,
and one neighbor mounted his horse
and galloped to London 10 apprise tho
authorities of Scotland Yard of the
awful occurrence.
Closer examination Of the surround.
ings made by Scotland Yard detec-
tive, revealed the fact that the muir
derer had very thoroughly searched
the room. The dead mans pockets
were turned inside out; there was
nothing found, not a scrap Of paper or
personal trinket left to aid in the iden.
tifcation Of the victim, or in making
known his history or family relations.
The remains were tenderly cared
for, and, after the usual inquest and
verdict were had, were deposited tenn
porarily in the little churchyard vault
almost within sight of the inn. But
the afternoon of the day upon which
the crime was committed the hostler
came into the bar where the crowd
was assembled holding in his hand
letter crumpled and somewhat soiled.
81 found n'under e winder O. the
poor mans room, sur" he said, as he
handed it to the detective, " twas on
the groun damp like"
1t proved to be letter addressed to
Thomas Ashton. The handwriting
was that of a woman. 1t was torn
partly in two 1t read thus:
81 shall never live with you again.
/ hate you and do love him. Are you
mean enough to force yourself upon a
woman who will not love you, who
loathes your presence and prefers hap
piness in the arms of another to misery
with you? BY law l am your wife,
but all the laws on earth nor all your
money can't make me live with you.
! have endured you long enough. The
blow you struck me on Saturday last
sealed your fate with me. If / had
had knife / would have then cut
your throat with as little remorse as !
will yet be revenged for it. A wrong
ed woman's vengeance is more terri
bic and immovable in its purpose than
you dream of. You have laughed at
my threats again and again, but you
| will scoff at them never more. In the
arms of my lover-as you term him
forget the miserable past of my life
! DELLA.
| Did this letter furnish clue to the
Scotland Yard official?
"The murderer, it may be, was this
woman's lover, and she has contriveG
with him to kill her husband" was the
landlords theory.
The official took the letter, and will
as accurate description of the sup
posed assassin, James Barton, as hi
could get, returned to London.
| A search for the murderer was q
once instituted So far as could be as
certained by inquiry, he had not beer
seen on the road after the hostler los
sight of him. His description wa
sent to all the leading cities of Eng
land, and London was searched a
thoroughly as possible.
1t is is the unexpected which Away
happens. One day in passing through
Little Oxford street, the detective say
turning the corner toward him ma
dressed in the height of fashion, wit
a handsome young lady upon his arm
i A few steps nearer and the detectiv
stopped short. There was the man h
wanted-the short, broad-shouldere,
muscular man, with the scar over tn
sinister eye, the red hair, large ear
but with the face closely shaven. Th
woman was small, not more than q
, and upon her clear-cut features ther
was the expression of a determined
willful nature, and the dark eyes wei
those which are found in a woman {
a hot and vengeful nature.
The officer passed them and then {
a proper distance followed then
From one street to another, into r.
. gent street, then at last into a quit
street which terminated in sma
park known as Bloomsbury Terrac
Into one of row of dwellings the
entered. 1t bore the number 8. O
the door was silver plate bearing tt
name "Mrs. Cashton," and directl
beneath the word 'Lodgings"
This is the lover and the wife wi
wrote that letter. He is the murde
J er; she his mistress. She, in her few
for revenge, melted the man to col
NIT the crime" was the detective
g theory.
It He next day made inquiry of Nj
Cashton as to her dodgers,
e "They have been here nearly
month. They came here from Mi
!, dlesex-ten miles beyond the eli
If They are very loving and quiet peop
J. They seldom go out. The won
Is acts little strange--nervous and h,
tericky at times-but i don't mi
I that as long as they pays regular
X which, so far, they has, and seems
have plenty of money, When he g
k out alone, which isn't off'n, she is
e. ways fidgetty until he comes ba'
That's all i knows of 'em. They g
At their names as Coombs'
e. "rhis is my man--this is my lett
" writer" mentally said the detective,
Two hours later the man and won
AZ were under arrest, and their lodgir
in searched. Surely enough, there v
j. in her trunks the evidence that
to was the veritable Mrs. Ashton,
ne wife of the murdered man, and 4
* her lover was james Barton.
ID They confessed that they were
en parties 80 named, but that they had
n hand in the murder of her husba
Barton readily admitted that he ,
ep the same individual who had come
Int the inn with Ashton; had lodged "
IN him, and had left at o'clock
Ike started off down the highway tow
he London; that he had never sough
IRE conceal the fact until he read of
de murder in the London papers; then
and Mrs. Ashton remained silent