Burlington weekly free press. [volume] (Burlington, Vt.) 1866-1928, 1899-10-26

side Chicago, leaving everything to the
local authorities, but in this murder mt
The Grange, Mr.. Dobson, your mayor
has deemed it expedient, in face Of the
fact that there is more mystery than
usual e~nshrouding the matter, not to
leave the case entirely in the hands of
the village police. lie sent for me, and
l am here"
Mr.. Dobson again mods his head.
Here are my credentials. You will
see that from today | relieve you alto
gether of the case, and you are instruct
ed to afford me all the assistance | may
require"
Mr.. Dobson is nettled and shows it.
"Then," he answers sharply, you've
come on u wild goose chase. No M can
solve the mystery of the murder
"Just the sort of case l like. Now,
then, let mo know all the particulars,
or, rather, let me see if I'm right in
my facts so far, as you seem rather
slow of speech, Mr.. Dobson.
The chief of police puffs his fat
cheeks in indignation, but something
seems to warn him not 10 answer, and
he is wise enough to obey.
"Now, then, " says Darrent cheerily
as he takes a seat and refers to his
pocketbook, ''stop me when ! go wrong. -
Again Mr.. Dobson merely mods.
'Josiah Marsden, a queer old British
err, lived in an old rambling house
known as The Grange, u quarter of a
mile from here-lived a solitary life
reported to be n miser; only two or
three rooms used no servants. A WON
an came every morning for "a few hours
and did what was wanted. She went,
as usual, on the 10Th Of this month
found Marsden dead, killed by n stab
from a large clasp knife which was
found there; no other clew of any kind.
Is that rightP'
Mr.. Dobson, who has been %sagacious-
ly nodding his head in assent to each
sentence as Darrent has read it out,
now mods it more emphatically as he
concludes, and, after taking a few
whiffs at his pipe, asks, What's the
reward %
Nothing unless the relatives offer
it."
"Ohl''
"Now, then, what can you add tc
what I've read?'
Something that will puzzle tbs
clever Chicago detectives, with all Their
brag," Dobson with a grin.
son the night of the murder there wa.
a heavy fall of snow-it began at 1
and ceased at land none has fallen
since in Norcombe."
"Well?'
1.-THE murderer entered at the front
of The Grange; went right in through
the street door. | traced his footstep.
from the gate to the door,"
''Yes."
"That's all"
"What do You meanP"
"He never left. There were no foot
steps from the house"
Herbert Darrcnt bends his head il
thought for a moment. Here was til,
chief of police repeating exactly tn
same story as the driver of the dogcar
had told him. He knits his brows an,
ponders, attempting to solve the prob
lem.
Every we'll; go on" he says at last
"Anything elseY'
Nothing" shortly replies Dobscn
annoyed Mt the Indifferent air of the de
t%ective. Il suppose you know the mur
derer already, ehY"
Il think, Mr.. Dobson," he quietl,
answers, ''if you've any respect for til
post you hold, you'll keep that foe
tongue of yours q%uieter. Murder is no
a joke specially arranged for an ordi
nary cop to air cheap wit upon"
The man flushes with wounded prid
and glares at the fire.
"Im getting sick of the whole blesse
thing, he growls at last. Being eros
questioned twice in one day by Chicag
detectives is enough to try any one
temper.
WHAT"
"First one detective, then another
It's sickening."