The Indianapolis journal. [volume] (Indianapolis [Ind.]) 1867-1904, 1903-01-02
CHAPTER VIII.
AN IDENTIFICATION.


Maurice Greenwood. Can't find his adj
Frederic Cowper.
Clipping from the New York Bugle, Sun
day, Aug. Is:
Landlady Identifies Body of the Rosemere
Victim as That OF Her Vanished Ledger,
Artist Greenwood. Police Are Skepucal.
Mr.. Maurice Greenwood. the talented
young artist who returned from Paris the
beginning OF last winter, has disappeared,
and grave fears for his safety are enter
tanned. He was last seen in his studio. 1SS
Washington square, early on Tuesday, Aug.
s. by Mrs. Kate Mulroy, the janitress. Ever
since the young artist moved into the
building Mrs. Mulroy has taken complete
charge of his rooms but, owing to a disa-
greement which took place between them
last Tuesday, she has ceased these atten-
lions. Yesterday evening, while looking
over copy of the Bugle of the preceding
day, Mrs Mulroy came across the portrait
of the unknown man whose murdered body
was discovered under very mysterious cir
cumstances in an unoccupied apartment of
the Rosemere, corner OF - street and
Madison avenue on the preceding Thurs
day. She at once recognized ii as bearing
a striking resemblance to her lodger Thor
oughly alarmed she decided to investigate
the matter. After knocking several times
at Mr.. Greywood's door without receiving
an answer she opened it by means CT a
pass key. Both the studio and bedroom
were in the greatest confusion and from
the amount of dust that had accumulated
over everything she concluded that the
premises had not been entered for several
days. Her worst fears being thus con-
firmed. she FASTENED at once to the morgue
and requested to see the body of the Rose
mere victim, which she Immediately identi-
fled as that of Maurice Greenwood.
Strangely enough. the police throw doubts
knowledge that they have no other clew to
go on. However. Mrs. Greenwood. the young
mans mother, has been sent for, and is ex-
pected to arrive tomorrow from Maine,
where she is spending the summer.
The people at the Rosemere are still fool
ishly trying to make mystery of the muir
der. and refuse all information ietc., etc.1.
To DR.. Charles X. Fortescue from DIR.
Frederic Cowper, Beverley. L. l.:
Sunday Evening. Aug. 13.
Dear Charley:-No sooner had L read in
to-days paper that the body found in the
Maurice Greenwood than l knew at once
why you have taken such an interest in
poor May. 1 see now that you have sus-
pected from the first that the murdered
man was not unknown to her, and your
last letter, describing her friend" proves
to me beyond doubt that you were ignorant
81 nothing but his name, for Greenwood and
no other answers exactly to that descrip
ton. How you found out what you did 1
can't imagine, but, remembering that your
Office window commands a view e the en-
trance to the building, 1 think lt possible
that you may have seen somex.."s from
that point of vantage which enabled you TO
put two and two together. But l wonder
that 1 can feel any surprise at your having
discovered the truth when the truth itself
is unbelievable. May Derwent is incapable
of killing any one-no matter what provo
cation she may have had. She is incapable
of a dishonorable action, and. above all
things, incapable of an intrigue. She is
purity itself. / swear Ii. And yet what
are the facts that confront us? A man
known to have been her professed sutton
| is found dead in a room adjoining her
apartment--dead with a wound through his
heart-a wound, too. caused by a knitting
needle or hatpin. as you yourself testified.
And, before trying to find out who killed
him, we must first think of some reasona-
BILE excuse for his having been at the Rose
mere at all. How strange that he should
happen to go to the building at the very
time when May (who supposed to be
on her way to Bar Harbor, mind YOU'D was
there also. Who was he calling on, if not
on her?
Luckily no one as yet seems to have
thought of her in connection with Grey
woods DEATH My sister has, in fact, been
wondering all day whom he could have
been visiting when he met his tragic fate.
But sooner or later the truth will be known,
and then Even in imagination / can't
face that possibility.
much, and. as believe you to be as anx-
ious as 1 am to help this poor girl, / am
going to accede to your request and tell
you all that have been able to find out
about the sad affair. l know that / run
the risk of being misunderstood-even by
you-and accused of objectionable indis-
cretion But Ii seems to me that i'm a case
like this no ordinary rules hold good, and
that, in order to preserve a secret, one has
sometimes to violate a confidence.
/ have discovered-but had better begin
at the beginning, and tell you as accurate
ly and Enthusiastically as possible how
the following facts became known to me-
so that you may be better apie to judge OF
goddess, Interchangeable, immovable but a
very chameleon taking the color of her sur
roundings. A detached sentence. for in
stance may mean a hundred things accord
ing to the when, where and how of it's ut
terance. But enough OF apologies-Qui
s'excuse, saccuse.
So here goes.
1 spent the morning on our piazza, and
as lay there listening to the faint strains
of familiar hymns, which fioated to me
| through the open windows of our village
church. could not help thinking that
| those peaceful sounds made a strange ac-
| compartment TO my gloomy and distracted
| thoughts. 1 longed to see May and Judge
| for myself how things stood with her.
was therefore, especially glad. after the
| service was over, to see Mrs. Derwent turn
! in at our gate. She often drops in on her
| way from church TO chat a few minutes
| with my mother. But / soon became con-
| WINGED that the real object Of her visit to-
| The dear lady. usually so calm and digni-
| fed positively fidgeted and several times
/ forgot what she was saying and remained
| for a minute or so with her large eyes
/ fastened silently upon me till, noticing my
| embarrassment she recovered herself with
| a start and plunged into new topic of
conversation. AT last my mother, feeling
herself de trop, made some excuse and
went into the house. But even then Mrs.
| Derwent did not Immediately speak, but
| sat nervously clasping and unclasping her
| long, narrow hands.
| Fred" she said at last, II have known
you ever since you were a little boy, and,
| as / am I'm great trouble. / have come to
! you, hoping that you will be able to help
me-
"Dear Mrs Derwent, you know there is
nothing would not do for you and yours, -
| 1 replied.
sIt is May that l want to speak to you
about; she is really very i'll. 1 fear
| Indeed I am sorry to hear it; what is
| the matter with herr