The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1901-09-08

were on her fngers-her purse was IN ner
pocket. The diamond brooch she wore was
still on her dress. There hadn't been the
slightest attempt at robbery, and no one
seems to have heard cry. She was got
out there by someone and without quar-
rel almost without word. stabbed to the
heart. She didn't go out into that lane to
enjoy a stroll on a pitch dark November
night. she went to meet somebody, and
looking at the fact that the letter she got In
the morning upset her, 1 should say it was
some one she didn't want to receive in her
house, some one who knew they couldn't
be received there, and so that some one
said they'd be in the lane that evening at
10 o'clock. What we've got to find out is
first who wrote the letter, and then I'm
inclined to think we shan't be far of who
committed murder. Now, can you help me
at all. sir. Is there anyone you know-any-
one her ladyship has ever spoken to you
about?'
mo one! no oner' exclaimed Sir Vivian,
impetuously. 81 don't believe that there
was a creature in the world who owed my
poor wife a grudge. or anyone she knew
whom she would want to meet secretly"
We'll. sir. at any rate. she burnt letter
who murdered her Those are the facts
I've got &c go on, and hope / shall be able
TO find clew to the mystery soon Good
morning, sir; shall report directly know
anything
In the presence of large and sympa-
thetic crowd Lady Joyce was laid to rest
in the family vault in the little parish
church. Sir Vivian and his two sons were
principal meurners. Vivian Joyce came
at his fathers bidding TO his mothers flu
neral. His place was there, and Sir Vivian
had determined that if possible with his
wife's death his estrangement from his
elder son should cease.
He had discovered from his solicitor that
his wife had paid large sum of money for
Vivian only few days before her death.
He concluded that the young man had con-
fided his embarrassments TO his mother,
and that she had helped him out of her own
private fortune in order to spare her hus-
band the knowledge that Vivian was still
pursuing his evil courses.
After the funeral Sir Vivian invited his
elder son to return to the house. He had
told Eric that he should do so, and Eric,
who was without an atom of selfshness in
his composition, had simply said it was
right that 1t should be so-that Vivians
place at such a time was at his father $
right hand. The young men, entirely OPP
posed as their natures were, had never
been bad friends. No one could be bad
friends with Eric Joyce. The younger son
had grieved over his brothers follies be-
cause they had panied his mother and IA
Their, but he had always tried to be the
peacemaker, and because he was gentle and
retiring himself he had had certain boy
ish admiration for his elder brothers reck-
lessness and daredevil ways.
So when the mourners returned to the
| house Eric held out his hand to his brother,
and said he was glad to see him back. and
| he hoped Vivian was going to stay and
| help his father to bear the trouble that
| had come upon the home.
In the library that afternoon Sir Vivian
| saw his eldest son, and offered him his
| forgiveness, imploring him, now that this
! blow had fallen upon him. to give up his
| evil ways and prepare himself to take the
| title and the position that would one day
be his
Vivian was i'll at ease in his father S
| presence, but he professed penitence. He
said that he would go away only for a short
| time, and then come home and settle down.
| He should leave that evening as he had
some affairs to settle in town, but he would
| come back again in a week or two.
/ But things were to happen differently. II
lad been noticed at the funeral that Vivian
! Joyce looked i'll and strange, but that was
| put down to the natural shock He got
worse during the afternoon, and when even
| ing came and he wanted to leave he was
/ in a state of high fever The doctor, who
/ had come in to see Sir Vivian, noticed the
young mans appearance, and after few
| words with him insisted that he should re-
main the night and a room was prepared
| for him.
The next morning he was worse. The doc
tor saw him, and told Sir Vivian that his
| son was seriously ilf-there was danger OF
| brain fever-and the chances were that il
would be some weeks before he was able
to leave his bed
| Day after day while Vivian Joyce lay ILL.,
] now unconscious, now wandering, now bab-
| bling strange incoherent things in his de-
| Iirium, letters arrived at the hall for him
They were all In female handwriting, and
| Sir Vivian hesitated to open them. He had
| no desire to pry into his sons affairs. The
| doctor said that perhaps In a week he
| would be able to his correspondence
! the letters had better wait till then.
But the patient grew no better, and the
| letters continued to come; and Sir Vivian
feeling that perhaps there ought to be some
answer sent, opened one-it was the latest
He read it, and at first scarcely under
stood.
You won't answer me. You think now
| you are all right, you can throw me over
and treat me worse than a dog, l suppose
| But I'm not going 10 be made fool of like
that. If 1 don't get an answer tomorrow
! to say what you mean TO do, 1 am comine
straight to your father, and I'm going &c
! tell him the whole truth. I'm going to tel
| him that It was me that wrote the letter
| pretending to be from a woman your moth.
er had reason to fear, that in an ole
| woman's hand 1 wrote and told her knew
| all about a certain affair that happened
eight and twenty years ago, and if she
| didn't meet me and come to terms I'd &c
to the police 1 shall tell your father 1 tolc
her I'd be in the lane outside the wall Il
o'clock. and she'd better come and see me
| wrote to her. and your mother came ou
that night, and what happened you know
and we don't want to talk about it. Blu
as true as heaven, if you don't write to m,
| by tomorrow, I'll come and tell your faith
er all this. You promised you'd marry m,