Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1898-01-14

ter, the doctor and the storekeeper.
Then, trembling, the good deacon led
these gentlemen into the barn where
the deed had been committed.
1--WE want no mistakes here" said
the constable slowly, with the air of
man treading the edge of strange
precipice and glancing with perturbed
shrewdness about the barn.
"God forbid!' answered the minister
devoutly. But the physician, who was
growing gray in the narrow occupation
of helping children into the world and
the aged out of it, inspected the body
eagerly. 1t was his first notable post
mortem opportunity. Indeed there was
no possible room for two theories as to
how Mr.. Burns had met his death. He
lay crossways in front of the stalls
where the cows were kept between the
rolling door and the empty hay wagon.
His head was gashed with three clear
cuts, any one of which ought to have
produced instant death.
ut must have been Ratchet, said
the doctor slowly. The murderer stood
right i'll front of him when he hit. Sec
With an imperturbability which struck
the other men as almost more than pro-
fessional the doctor swung an imaginary
weapon at the constable and then,
bending quickly, he pointed out YER
teal cash across the forehead of the
corpse. This cut seemed to penetrate
the brain. THE man was if anything
taller than he. Mr.. Burns could not
have possibly been conscious after such
a blow"
But he wasu" The men were star
tied by this abrupt interjcction. y soft
voice, precise and measured as Il metro
nome, gave the agitatng contradiction
Death always invests the chief
mourner with an unassailable dignity,
or ut least it used to do SO before the
modern craze for arresting the nearest
relative in default of IA clrw. Tall, sl,n-
der with head bent forward, yellow
silhouette against the black open door,
and for the moment, chastencd of IA
little native or acquired shrcwishnc.s,
the widow of the dead man compelled
instant reverence. Weather beaten
heads bowed instinctively before the
embodiment of violent bereavement
as if to cover with hay the body from
the woman view. As he did so, his
hand struck hard object. He pulled it
out. The men uttered EXPLANATIONS of
horror Any woman might have tainted
at the sight of the murderOus weapon.
But Mrs. Burns had New England
nerves She stolidly watched the con-
stable take the hatchet, inspect it gin
gerly, and then hand it over to the doc
tor. The edge of the Ratchet correspond
ed to the length of the cash, and dis
membered gray hair on the blade match
ed that of the victim. So far, the cir
| cumstances of the crime We're as plain
as the barn floor. One could almost see
| the fatal blows fall.
Il don t think there is anything more
| here to do. The constable spoke slow
ly. 1--WE can safely leave the body
where it is and lock the barn for the
night Bring the Ratchet along doctor,
and if you have no objections, Mrs.
Burns, will spend the night here with
my wife, and we will ask you a few
questions before we go to bed, "
The minister took the widows arm
with tenderness and led her into the
| kitchen. Mrs. Burns then rehearsed the
| facts quietly.
ut was about 8 o'clock-just an hour
ago." she glanced at the moon faced
| clock. Thomas went out about 8, to do
some chores and lock up as usual. l
easy l ran out. l found him where he
is now. His eyes We're open, and heard
him say distinctly Williams. He tried
to speak further, but he passed away
without another word That was all |
did not see or hear trace of any liv-
ing soul.
LET us see," said the clergyman,
with what he considered to be judicial
suavity "Who is there you connect
with the name of Williams
"Only George, " answered the widow
easily The men exchanged grave
glances Thomas didn't get on well
with folks you know. | remember he
came to words with George Williams
because he put potatoes into IA damp
place in the cellar. That was in March,
and George left on the spot, saying that
he never would work for us again.
shouldn't think that was enough -
"Any one else by that name out of
the town." interrupted the constable
compassionately.
The widow shook her head after some
deliberate thought. Then the deacon's
wife came in and carried her friend
away to the shocked and desolated house,
Everybody in Broadfelds knew
George Williams. He was farmland
who had drifted into the town year
or two before, when the crops were
heavy, OF him there was little known,
except that he was good worker, but
surly for his rights. He was evidently
an Englishman, and he was as hard to
deal with as most of the lower class OF
his countrymen who seek their fortunes
in America. People had expressed nc
wonder when he failed to Glitch
horses" with old man Burns. The
emancipated islander could i'll brook
authority as gruff as his own resent
ment. But there is long step between
surliness and murder, and the old or
thodox churchgoers were slow to suspect
the Englishman.
George! Why everybody knows
George Williams"
Besides, the dying man might easily
have wandered in his mind The pro
fessional detective might not remember
| this but common sense and pommOI