Manchester Democrat. [volume] (Manchester, Iowa) 1875-1930, 1899-10-04


his art would be needed in this investi-
CATION, for he knew better than any
one that the cases that seemed to be
over before they had really commenced
very often proved to be almost unsoly.
able mysteries.
CHAPTER II.
DARRENT FINDS A CIEw.
To say that Herbert Darrent passed
good night would have been to have
stretched veracity to breaking point.
1t was cold in that small bedroom in
the village hotel, and the discordant
changing Of the cracked bell of the
church clock from quarter to quarter
and from hour to hour irritated him in
his restlessness His mind was far too
active to allow his eyes to be wooed by
slumber. and through the long watches
Of the bitter winters night the few
threads Of information that he had
gathered tangled themselves into twists
and knots in his brain, and the very
fact that prima facie the solution Of
the mystery seemed to be SO simple only
served to worry and irritate him more.
Detectives, after all, are only human
beings, not mechanical contrivances,
and their intellects, trained though they
be to keener and clearer intuition than
those possessed by ordinary men, do not
render them free from the worries in
seperable from complicated problems of
which the solution is obscure.
Darrent laid awake for hours wonder
ing and specializing. Those clews
which seemed to point at once to the
culprit often. he knew, failed utterly
upon closer investigation, broke off sud !
den and short, and, once the thread
snapped, one:was left absolutely with
out the possibility of following the
trail for another inch and had to bark
back to the very commencement again,
only perhaps to have the same exper-
fence and the same result. One never
hears of 9 detectives failures. 1t is
only his victories that are noised abroad.
One does not learn of all the byways
and cross roads, all the narrow lanes
and blind alleys, that his search leads
him into. 1t is only when success has
crowned his patient task that one hears
of him at all.
Once when he had dozed off for a lit.
tie while the dreary, monotonous recital
of the untimely death of the wretched
20 COWS disturbed his brain, and he
awoke with SILVER to realize that,
whatever the winter of 1881 in Nor
combe was like to have killed the score
of COWS in one night, the winter of 1896
was quite as severe one as he ever de-
sired to experience. Thinking of the
COWS recalled the brief conversation he
had with the driver of the dogcart. Ev-
identity that individual did not think
very much Of Josiah MarsdeI and,
moreover, had admitted to having q
grudge against the murdered man be-
cause his rent had been raised. Was it
possible that that man who told 80 glib
lily the story of ghost was implicated
In the murder2 Perhaps. One never
knew. But against that supposition
there was the paper that had been writ
ten by the dying man, the half finished
accusation that he had been murdered
by Astrsy. What q colossal idiot Dob
son was to have shown that paper to
Astray! And directly Astray had seen
1t he fled. That certainly looked like
guilt and yet might only be sudden
spssm of fear-fear that train of cir
cumstantisl evidence might be gathered
together that would inevitably put the
rope around his neck, be he innocent or
be he guilty.
There were indeed many black factors
in the case that pointed to Astray. Let
him recapitulate them:
~ Astrsy was not Marsden's own
son, but had been adopted by him, and
who could tell what Astray's anteced-
ents were OF why old Marsden had kept
himp
(2) Astray and old Marsden had
qusrreled and separated some two years
back. Whyp
(3) Astrsy had returned, after an
absence of two years, on the very night
of the murder. Why?
AZ The unfinished note written by
the dying man seemed to accuse Astray
of the murder.
(5) Astray had fled.
Yes; all these facts certainly did point
to Astrsy Marsden as the murderer. All
through the long winters night thesdis-
jointed fragments of the puzzle jun
! bled themselves abo4. in the perplexed
mind of Herbert Darrent until the dawn
broke gray and cherries.
He gszed out of the window across
the waste of snow to where in the dis
lance the trees that fronted The Grange
met his eye. Should he, he wondered
fathom the mystery of the midnight
murder within that dwelling, whose
smokeless chimneys stood out black
against tide wintry sky?
Breakfast with its steaming coffee
it's crisp toast, sayory bacon and new
laid eggs, over and Darrant felt another
man ready to commence his inyesti
cations, to piece together every tiny
scrap, every minute fragment, unit
the whole puzzle was complete, thu
mystery solved, Josiah Msrsden avenged
and justice satisfied.
Mine host, who waited upon thu
stranger from Chicago himself, was o.
= communicative turn of mind. oh
yes, he knew the Marsdens. father anc
son-at least they called him son-wel
enough. Josiah Msrsden was strang'
sort o. fellow; seemed to have nj
friends and no enemies. Visitors t,
The Grange were very rare indeed
49,