The Winslow mail., 1900-12-13

I guess you'll have chance to tell that
story to judge and jury"
Then he proceeded to examine the
dead mans pockets. They were empty.
Looks like robbery he murmured.
"What is it, Jim? Haven't you got the
other man?"
Jim had not found the other man;
for the pale young fellow in the seal
skin cap had disappeared.
The reporter was STOPPING over the
body, while DIR. Thurston cut through
the clothing snd laid bare small,
round wound.
Here is another bullet wound" said
Sturgis, turning over the body slightly,
and pointing out q second round hole
in the back of the dead man.
He seemed to take great interest in
this discovery. He whipped out
steel tape and rapidly but carefully
took number of measurements, as if
to locate the positions of the two
wounds. Then he stepped into the cab;
and, striking match after match, he
spent several minutes apparently in
eager search for something which he
could not find.
"That is strange" he muttered to
himself, as he came out at last.
"What is it?" inquired Thurston,
who alone caught the words.
But the reporter either did not hear
or did not care to answer. He at once
renewed his search on the brilliantly
lighted pavement in the immediate vi
cinity of the cab; examining every
stone, investigating every joint and
every rut, prodding with his cane every
lump of frozen mud, turning every
stray scrap of paper.
''Well, DOCTOR" he said, when at
length he rejoined his companion, ''if
you have done all that you can we may
as we'll go. 1t is one of the prettiest
problems I have met; but there is
nothing more for me to learn here for
the present. By the way, as was say
ing when I interrupted myself a little
while ago, are you sure the cabman is
drunk? Iwish you would take another
good look at him. The question may be
more important than it seemed at
first"
A few minutes later the physician
and the reporter were hurrying along
to make up for the time they had lost;
the cab and the cabman had disap-
peared in the custody of the police,
and the cabman's grewsome fare was
jolting through Twenty-sixth street,
in the direction of small building
which stands near the East river, and
in which the stranded waits of the new
world metropolis can find rest at last,
upon a stone slab, in the beginning of
their eternal sleep.
Broadway had resumed it's holiday
aspect; the wizened hag at the corner
still patiently ground out her plaintive
discords; the fearful newsboy, with
his slowly diminishing armtul of news
papers, continued to shiver in the cold
wind, as he offered his stock to the
hurrying pedestrians; the big police
man again piloted his fair charges
through the mass of moving vehicles,
and the changing cable cars started
once more on their rumbling course,
as if the swapping Of thread in the
fabric of city's life were a thing of
constant occurrence and Of no mo-
ment.
a few tiny dark red stains upon the
pavement were all that remained to tell
the story of the scene which had SO
recently been enacted in the busy
thoroughfare. Presently even these
were obliterated by the random stroke
of horses hoof.
The ripple had disappeared from the
surface. The stream of life was flow
ing steadily once more through the
arteries of the metropolis.