Weekly commercial herald. (Vicksburg, Miss.) 1884-18??, 1886-02-05

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He went into the hall. It was dark. II
had purposely allowed the gas to renal
mlighted. A flicker Of the street lam
came in over the glass above the door
There was a lantern on the hall table. II
crept to it and took it up, and returned t
the library. All still, deadly still H
heard for the first time the ticking OF tn
clock on the mantelshelf. He lowered th
gas in the chandelier, as il he feared to Sc
too much when he should remove the Goa
from the silent figure in the chair. H, wen
behind it and lifted thu cover gently, bit b,
BIT, until ths face was exposed. Then b.
recOiled from it, then approached it afresh
touched it, listened to it. raised one of it
hands, felt its pulse. listened at its heart
All still; no sound, only the two clocks anC
a distant roll of thunder.
Pull yourself tog3therI' Kissed between
his teeth the living man, who now almost
envied the dead. Everything works fol-
yo~u-heaven and hell, even the night, dark
ness and storm
The hall clock struck ten. He listened and
counted every stroke as tine hamme r fell.
mo moreF he said, taking cut is watch,
looking at it, and then placing it % his ear.
mo more! The Fates are with me, Now
to business! WHAT is there to fearl A dead
man is nothlng-1ust, clay, a clol, notn,
ing. Come, John Needham, to businessr
He reached over to the spirit decantars
and pouring into a glass a large quantity of
whisky drunk it off. Then stretching him.
self up to his full height, he turnel up his
sleeves, apostrophizing the corpse as he did
20.
'Ycu are John Northampton Needham.
member OF parliament, banker, the ruined
tnancler, and you mu5tnot be found dressed
in Joseph Norbury's clothes-come! 1t viii
not matter to you how you are dressed; it
will to me-. Joseph Norbury must not 90
about i'll John Needham's coas, nor wear
Joseph Norbury's watch, nor carry Joseph
Norbury S purse, nor anything else that is
his! Comet"
1t seemed as if the situation, the whisky,
and the gift of life with a new name, made
physically a new man of the villain. He
worked at his CHASTITY business with the
energy of a giant and the vigor OF a looter
on a battlefield. Once Or twice he refreshed
himself from the spirit decanter, and wiped
the perspiration from his face.
When the changes had been made be-
tween the living and the dead, which the
living considered sufficient, than came the
no less difficult work Of removing the
body; but the murderer was equal to the
occasion. He carried it out into the yard
and thrust it into the brougham, which he
had already dragged out of the carriage
house for the purpose. There was not a
single detail that he had not thought out on
the lines Of his own proposed suicide.
He had MT napynifto1 6ip,golf on g. g.
change a single item Of his original plan
except this incident of driving to Hamp-
stead; for he had argued that if his scheme
was simple and had no hitch in it, all be
had to do was to fit his substitute into the
plan. The only change was the ~brougham.
His idea had been to walk to the
scene of his own death, a ~favorito resort in
life, and there take his fatal dose. The in
PRODUCTION of the brougham had necessi-
tated the absence of the servants. These
supplementary incidents had worked cut
so far to his satisfaction, the most tremen-
deus Of all of them, the discovery of the
substitute, having been in Needham's opin-
ion little less than miraculous.
Having deposited his CHASTITY load in the
brougham, he leaned, gasping, against the
coach house; fer though he had carried his
load with something like the grip of an ex-
pert at such work, balancing the weight of
the difficult and awkward burden so as to
make 1T bearable, be could hardly stand
erect for some minutes. Presently, how
ever, he went back into the house, straight.
ened his room, washed and laid aside the
extra coffee cup, placed in his pocket the
phial OF poison, carefully removed all traces
of his visitor; then going into the hall and
putting on Norbury's light ovcrcoat, taking
his own on his arm, and his crush hat in
his hand, he returned to the stables and har-
messed the cob to the brougham. Opening
the gates s~tealthily he looked out. No one
stirring, the night dark, a steady rain fall
ing; everything still favored the criminal
and his work. He led the horse through
the gate way, put out the Ian tern, placed it
inside the doors, which he carefully closed:
and then, mounting the box seat, drove
quietly through thu News and out into
Marylebone road.
The rain fell in a steady downpour. The
perfume Of roses and stocks from adjacent
gardens filled the dripping atmosphere but
i'll the imagination Of the solitary driver of
the silent passenger the gas lamps pointed
their short arms at him. The long, glaring
Of the lights on the wet pave
ments seemed to follow him. He drove on.
nevertheless, and to his troubled fancy the
wheels Of the brougham made an awful
noise, His horse c~lattered over the stones
if with the design of calling attention to
the awful thing he was dragging. That
is why they walk the horses In a hearse.
and the mourning coaches that follow Green
the driver thought, 1.-THE noise is SO
He pulled the cob into a walk.
Yes" he thought, that must be it; there
is more noise attending the removal of the
dead than the liying-a kind Of sympathy.
II the stones spoke, as somebody has, |
think, suggested. But now that his horse
only walkel through the rain, he noticed
thai as cabmen ratified by they turned to
look at him. He had not lighted the LAMPS
his brougham, so that the light of pass.
ng vehicles seemed to flash upon him and
.ry TO unnerve him. He therefore urgel
he horse once more into q trot, and ratified
)ver the stones with the rest of the traffic.
He turned into the Allsopp News, and
would have gone through Clarence gate into
he park, but he dared not risk having to
)ull mp for gates to be opaned and shut; SO
kept to the road, turning into Upper
Gloucester place, now at q walking pace.
at a trot, the gas lamps pointing at
as before, and the blood-red glare of n
druggists lamp that fell sheer across his
)ath making him shudder. But on he went,
'ound Park read, past Primrose hill, and
skirting its western side, and so into
Iaverstock hill, finally climbing the steep
to Hampstead. Passing the last
iohts Of hoi1yo aud louD tha driror .1,.-