Evening capital journal. (Salem, Or.) 1888-1893, 1891-08-15

Yes. sir
The valet left the room and Eugene
Scranton reappIied himself to his break
fast his newspaper and his self con-
gratulations.
Il was midnight and Eugene Scran-
ton lay awake. tossing restlessly upon
his bed. The world was treating him
well. but his conscience. that most
obnoxious organ of the human make
up. had become so aggressive that sleep
had deserted his fevered couch.
In the silent. dark, mysterious hours
Of night it makes little difference to a
man what his fellow creatures may
think of him. At that solemn time
what he thinks of himself is all that Is
essential Eugene Scranton knew that
he was a murderer In the hustle and
excitement Of the day this self convic-
ton was not powerful nor poignant. In
the silent watches of the night, how
ever 1t became unbearable. From the
shadows Of his room one face gazed at
him-the face of Alexander Dale. He
arose, dipped a handkerchief in ice
water and placed the refreshing cloth
against the base of his brain. For a
few moments he appeared to doze.
The blood that surged upward was
cooled for time, and a simple device
seemed about to triumph over the in.
somnia that had driven him well nigh
mad
1t Is not easy, however, to escape the
punishment that follows sin. Eugene
Scranton did not fall asleep. The
blissful Inconsistencies that his crime
tortured nature craved wooed him for
awhile, then fed from him as though
in horror. He was farther from sleep
than before; and again his staring eyes
saw in the darkness the face of Alexan-
der Dale.
An hour had passed, an hour of
agony to Scranton. Twice had he
pressed his revolver against his throb-
bing temple. Twice had he realized
that he dared not rush to fate that
frightened Hamlet and made Cato
pause. A man who commits murder
from greed seldom commits suicide
from choice.
At last the strain became unbearable.
Scranton sprang from bed and rushed
to the window.
"Oh, God, l must confess my crime !
must confess l must confess"
He threw up the sash. A belated
citizen was hurrying homeward on the
~....S.;Ao ,;1o ~ 4l,a ofraaf ttTiII coll tO
him and tell him the awful secret Of
my soul thought Scranton. 'Wait ~
The cry startled the silent street and
echoed weirdly through the dismal
night. Alarmed by his voice, Scranton
shut the window with a crash and
rushed into the outer room. In the
dim light he saw before him the out
lines of his phonograph. Historically
he threw his arms around the machine
and kissed it.
"Pm saved I" he whispered. "Pll tell
you the history of my fall.
Night after night the fatal cylinder
gave comfort to Eugene Scranton. If
the murderer awoke in the still, dark
hours and the shadow of his crime
crossed his soul, he would stealthily
leave his bedroom and place in effect
i've position the ear pieces of the accus-
ing machine. Then with ghastly salts
faction he would listen to the following
repetition of the tale he had told the
sympathetic wax:
~ killed Alexander Dale. l had
hated him for years. Together we had
concocted scheme whereby we could
fleece investors who desired to gain a
fortune in the twinkling of an eye. 1t
was my brain that developed the idea
of western land improvement COM
pany that would not be western, would
own no land, would have nothing to do
with improvements and be a company
only in name.
II needed a well known man to give
his influence and reputation to the
swindle, and found in Dale colleague
who was weak enough to follow my
guidance, but clever enough to retain
in his grip thorough control over my
life. After months of temptation
yielded to the voice of the devil and
determined to rid myself of the only
man in the world who stood between
me and success and safety. / killed
him cleverly. He had had the utmost
confidence in my uprightness, and
when one evening, after dining with
him at his rooms, he expressed a wish
to take me to one of his clubs pleaded
fatigue, asked permission to finish my
cigar in his drawing room, and saw him
sally forth doomed man.
"The rest was easy. For hours ]
awaited his return. When heard his
footsteps on the stairs | concealed my
self behind a portiere. After he had
undressed and had fallen into a deep
sleep, plunged dagger into his heart.
Oh, it was delicious. / have enjoyed
all the sensations that tempt the
wealthy epicure. There is only one
that fills the soul with perfe:t ecstasy
that is the bliss that pertains TO mur-
der"
Here the cylinder made an incoherent
sound and the confession ceased.
Eugene Scranton's valet, John, was
not genius, but he possessed a good
deal of shrewdneSs and fair amount
of common sense. From the moment
of its arrival he had been intensely in
terested in what he called the funny
graph" When his master was away he
spent much of his time in trying to
a. - III. -.