Waterbury evening Democrat., 1889-05-30


 on the dead mans desk, was rattleG about, as thought, although could no, know, as had turned out the gas Ill the meantime, and the place was in dark ness. But soon the intruder was gone and then I groped my way to the dead mans desk, and was overjoyed to find the box still there. seized it and es capped through the window, while heard great hubbub in the corridor, and cries of Clarence, Clarence which I knew were intended sor Clarence Carson, the dead mans nephew, who, I felt, would be suspected of the crime. rejoiced to think he would be suspected at the time, because knew it would avert suspicion from me. Then I hurried off, with the cash-box hidden under my great coat. l knew not what disposition to make of it. wandered aimlessly about the streets, knowing that as soon as the killing of Philip Carson was discovered, it would lead to a search for the cash.box.
 "While in this state of mind. I met Clarence Carson on the street, and we shook hands. It was at a street-lamp, and each noticed that the hands of the other were bloody. The blood was on my hands, however, as the result of the struggle with Philip Carson.
 While wandering aimlessly about the street, suddenly ran against the en, trance to the Grimsby Slope. Then it occurred to me for the first time that the mine would be the best place to hide the cash-box ill, and so procured a mine lamp and sauntered down the slope. At ashort distance from the foot I discover ed some miners tools, and, with them, made place in coal-pillar for the cash box. Here hid it, after taking glance at its contents. which were very disap- pointing to me, for the reason that they did not consist of sufficient cash. Hound however, at the bottom of the box sev. eral United States bonds, which partly compensated for my other disappoint- ment.
 'I expected to make Zelda Carson my wife by holding over her head the threat that her cousin Clarence was the mur. derer, and that I could prove it; but this was most cruel suggestion, which I deeply regret. It was alone who took the life of Philip Carson. Lastly, my name is not Tom Eckert, but Wiltrid Morpeth. Many years ago I left a wife and child ill England, and wish I could see them. But it is getting dark, and my eyes are dim." Esss.s
 His voice grew thick and husky, and his words were unintelligible. He tried to say more, but he could not, and the detective was not anxious to take down anything he might say after his reason had left hum.
 Every one present felt that, so far as he had gone, his story was true, and Saw. yer was particularly delighted with the statement, which he regarded in the light of special tribute to his acumen as a detective. But he made up his mind, ev- en then, that Sam Sharp, the newsboy, should have proper credit for his part of the work, and particularly for his cour- ageous conduct during the stormy exper- fence in the mine, when the thunders of the exploding fre-damp were shaking the foundations of Grimsby and filling the hearts of the people with fear.
 When the dawn of morning was gliding the spires of Grimsby, the spirit of Tom Eckert, or, as he had confessed himself, Wilfrid Morpeth, had left the mangled body that had sacrificed itself for greed and ambition, and the afternoon new. papers of the same day contained his confession, together with the statements of Detective Sawyer and Sam Sharp, telling of the way they tracked him into the mine, and saw him crushed by the black storm of crashing anthra- cite at the very moment when he doubt less felt secure in possession of his prize.
  sion on Zelda Carson, who, much as she d1sliked the man, was not altogether pre- pared to believe him so utterly base as be confessed himself to be- She was in- consolable over the loss of her father. but even in that hour of sorrow, when she felt there was not single gleam of silver behind her cloud of grief, she de- rived some satisfaction from knowing that Clarence, with all his faults. was not the guilty man that Eckert tried to make all the world believe. Edgar Strong, whose true friendship she relied on most in her sorrow. was first to tell her of Eckert's thrilling death and the strange confession which he made ill his last moments The news did not impress her then with that full realization of its importance which she felt natter days; and long af- ,er her fathers funeral, when she sat alone in her room breeding over the past, she pictured to herself the young attorney, as he appeared before her that 'heerless morning, and in faltering ac- cents read the story of Tom Eckert's ,rime, as the culprit himself had confess. | ,d it at the Grimsby Hospital.
 CHAPTER XXIII.