Los Angeles herald., 1891-11-03
WITNESSED A TRAGEDY.

don't like Menken. Undoubtedly he
is a clever-almost brilliantly clever
man, but he is, to my mind, just trif1e
too unconventional in his ideas
He is, however, very good company,
and have passed good many evenings
with him over pipe, and will acquit
him of ever having bored me.
went to his lodgings with him few
nights ago from the club, and soon found
myself seated in an armchair by the fire.
side, with pipe in my mouth and a
glass of most excellent whisky and water
beside me. We talked of many things,
till at length, forget how, the conver-
sation turned on murders and murderers
Some time previous London, and in
deed the whole country, had been ap-
palled by a series of ghastly murders,
all apparently committed by the same
hand, though in no case was a clew af-
forded by which the murderer might be
discovered.
Menken explained theory of his own
on the subject, as novel as it was start
ling, when the subject turned to cir
cumstantial evidence and its value.
"After ALL" | said, ''in ninety-nine
murders out of a hundred circumstantial
evidence and motive are the only helps
to conviction. No one in his senses COM
mits murder if there is any one look
ing on"
"No," said Menken slowly, "people
prefer doing these things in private, if
possible. But sometimes they are not
aware that there are witnesses"
He paused and filed his pipe.
"It is not every one," he went on,
"who has been secret witness of a muir
der, but l have" Ec
"You?" l exclaimed.
Menken nodded.
"Was he convicted and hanged?' I
asked.
"It wasn't 'he,' but 'she,'" said
Menken smiling. "And She was not
convicted and hanged, or even tried"
"But surely you'- was beginning.
when Menker broke in.
''My dear fellow, nothing could have
said could have convicted the woman.
1t was a very odd case altogether; one
of the most ingenious things ever heard
of. l will tell you the story, if you like.
1t will be simpler than you getting it
out of me by cross examination.
r "About four years ago Twas travelling
in Switzerland. In the course of my
rambles l reached Tauserwald 1 was
much taken with the place; the scenery
was superb, the hotel old fashioned but
delightfully."- comfortable.
| tsThara yuara cavaYo1 ,,oor1a 70
there besides myself, but as | am gre
garious sort of fellow, | was rather glad
of it. After l had been there about
fortnight, on entering the dining room
for dinner ! noticed some new arrivals.
Among them was party of three Eng
lish-an old gentleman, his young wife,
and daughter of the old gentleman's
by former marriage. The daughter,
poor girl, was blind. She was about
twenty, and looked delicate. l cannot
say she was pretty, but yet she was not
unpleasing. The old boy, her father,
was just like other English gentlemen
you see about.
'The wife was decidedly pretty; she
was about eight and twenty, fair, with
gray eyes and most undeniable figure.
They seemed to be we'll off, but they did
not hold much intercourse with the rest
of the inmates of the hotel.
"You know | rather pride myself on
my powers of observation Though |
made no sort of acquaintance with the
party, used to watch them and study
them, as do all my fellow creatures
whom come across.
81 was not long in finding out three
facts. First. that the old gentleman was
madly fond of his wife and Indifferent
to his daughter; secondly, that the
daughter adored her father and did not
like his wife; thirdly, that the wife hated
!. them both.
81 was all the more pleased with my
perception of these facts, inasmuch as no
one else in the hotel had the least idea of
the situation. Outwardly there was
perfect harmony in the trio.
"One morning, after the party had been
in the hotel about a week, the old gentle
man did not appear as usual at breakfast,
and in reply to inquiries his wife said
that he was not feeling well. In the
course of the day the doctor-an English
man, by the way-was sent for, and in
the evening the landlord, who was as
angry with the old man as if he had got
his illness on purpose, told me confden-
TALLY, with tears of rage, that the old
gentleman had been pronounced by the
doctor to be i'll of gastric fever, and that
the case was serious. The landlords
anxiety was not without reason. The
| fact could not be concealed, and the Wis
itors began to leave in haste. Only
few besides me remained. | am not
in the least nervous about illness, and
had no intention of leaving the place for
such a cause, a resolve which raised me
greatly in the landlords esteem.
"One morning, about ten days after
the old gentlemans seizure, | met the
doctor coming down stairs. He looked
much less anxious than for some days
past; indeed, there was an expression al
most of satisfaction on his face.
elbow is your patientF l asked.
1.-THE crisis is past, or almost past
he answered cheerfully He owes his
life, if he pulls through, to the nursing
Of his daughter and his wife, especially
the daughter, who is a trump! He is
now asleep, and upon that sleeep every
thing depends. If he wakens in three
or four hours of his own accord he will
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