The Corvallis gazette. [volume] (Corvallis, Or.) 1862-1899, 1885-12-18
HIS OWN BETRAYER.
BY AN Ex-ENGLIsH DETECTIVE.

| oI AN
1t IS now many years ago since
and my comrade Joyce were sent to q
village in one of the southern counties
of England to discover a certain person
who had robbed the squire of the place
of large sum of money. Our instruc-
tions were to stay there till we sue
ceeded; and as the squire was wealthy
and grudged no expense, we made
our dwelling in quiet farm house
where there was plenty to amuse us
in our leisure intervals. We were
quite alone. with the exception of an
old woman who did the domestic
work and minded the house when we
were away on duty.
Well, we found the thief to be dis
charged footman, whose knowledge
of the locality had hitherto saved him
from detection, though we proved
much too sharp for him in the end. L
need not trouble you with his after
fate. Enough, that l am about to re-
late an event which happened before
he was arrested, and in which l was
accidentally concerned in very Curl
Gus way.
We had made two acquaintances
| in the course of our walks abroad.
One was a retired farmer named
Branwell, who lived all by himself
about mile off. He was bachelor,
whose relations were said to have
| quarrelled with him, but nobody
seemed to know the exact truth, or to
care much about it either. / ascer-
tanned that the first week was there.
The other acquaintance was named
Cole, and had been farrier, or some
| thing of the kind. [ had heard of
this Cole as incurably irritable and
morose, and am free to confess that
rumor had not belied him. However,
he made point of being very civil
whenever we met him, and would
never let us pass his cottage without
speaking to us. He was heavy
browed man, and his eyes had a
strange filmy look which always re-
PEELED me when l met his gaze. l do
not believe he liked me; 1 certainly
did not like him.
Joyce and were sitting one even
ing smoking our pipes, when casually
remarked that l had not seen Bran
well for the last fortnight.
Neither have II said Joyce.
''That is odd," 1 remarked. 81
think I'll 60 to his cottage tonight.
He may be i'll, you know"
"I'll 90 with you, Elder"
''You had better stay here and let
me go alone" 1 said. "He might
fancy it an intrusion if we both went
together
Joyce's attentive face relaxed.
''Yes, / understand, he answered
Suppose, then, 1 follow you in half
an hour, and meet you outside the cot
tagep Don't refuse me, Elder, for I
won't have it.''
So it was settled. 1 put on my nat
and started at brisk pace down the
road, keeping steadily on between the
black line of hedges on one side, and
the open fields on the other. 1t was
an ugly night, the wan moon shone at
intervals through drifting clouds, and
the air was oppressively heavy.
reached the heath; l mounted the
hill-and there was the cottage, it's
gray roof showing dimly against the
sky. The door was unfastened, and
yielded easily to my touch.
/ waited minute and then went in.
Having no lantern, l struck match
and as it fiared up 1 saw a piece of
candle on the window ledge beside me.
I Lit the candle, and holding it above
my head, advanced slowly into the
middle of tho room. The light showed
me q broken chair, an overturned
table and bed.
On that bed lay dead man, whom
I at once identified as Branwell.
How had he come by his deathP
Judging by the gaping wound in his
throat, he had been foully murdered,
and then placed there exactly as saw
him. / know not how it was, but the
thought of suicide never occurred to
me for moment. No; l was IS cer-
tain he had been slain as if had wit
messed the deed myself. The disor-
dered appearance of the furniture, the
dark stains on the bed and fioor-all
told of a struggle, who shall say how
fierce and cruelp
1 no longer hesitated as to the proper
course to pursue. Before anything in
the place was disturbed, it was my
duty to report the occurrence at the
farm and let others decide what I.
should do next.
AS these thoughts passed through
my mind, I suddenly felt breath of
cold air behind me, and the candle
was knocked out of my hand.
What did it meanp 1 had heard no
sound but my own footstep; had
seen nothing but the dead man. The