The Topeka state journal. [volume] (Topeka, Kansas) 1892-1980, 1904-08-27

and more important evidence
: But, 1 protested, you can't have
: this should go to disprove the rest?'
AT that instant a policeman dashed
: in at the door.
beg pardon, Mr.. Walters he
said excitedly, but I've made another
! discovery. Just inside the fence
where the paints been rubbed off 1
found what was left of the wad the
l murderer used It's a bit of charred
: paper, but it isn't all burnt, and
there's some writing on it,
He held it out and we all looked
at it eagerly As the man had
affirmed, several words could still be
distinguished. There were but few,
it is true, but it was clear the charred
scrap of paper was all that was left
of letter-an angry leter-sent by
Frederick Flint to George Drake. The
latter surname was still traceable, and
as the sergeant saw it he glanced at
:" You're right, Mr.. Hunter he
said, angrily, I'VE can't have too much
evidence.
THE remark nettled me. and after
taking a careful impression in wax
of the hand of the gun-butt 1 went off
to look at the scene of the tragedy.
Arrived there 1 found everything
the sergeant had represented. After
a little difficulty 1 discovered the foot
prints where they entered the wood,
land, tracing them back to their start
ing point, found myself at George
was in a state of confusion. The
young mans mother and sister were
almost PROSTATE with grief and hor-
ror at what had befallen them, and
! it was with difficulty 1 could persuade
them into giving me a coherent ex-
PLANTATION of the tragedy. They were
firm in their belief that George was
the victim of circumstances and not
the murderer of old Miser Flint, but
they admitted the gun to be the prop
erty of George, and also declared that
4 1,s-
hall where it had hung, though he
was wearing another at the time of
his arrest.
Next 1 went to see Miss Flint. but
could gain no greater information IN
that quarter than that her dead father
had made another enemy in the person
of poacher in the neighborhood, whom |
he had threatened with the law, and
who had in turn Threatened him with |
something worse. Finally 1 returned to |
Sergeant Walters and demanded a pri- |
vate interview with the suspected man. |
found him in a dark. narrow cell, with
his head buried in his hands. He rose
as L entered and looked me full and
fearlessly in the face Quite as search
fiinched. If George Drake was muir
derer. I decided, he certainly did not
look like one.
Well l said, briskly, I suppose you
do not know me. 1 am Detective Hun
ter, of New Scotland Yard, and want
you to answer a few questions He
bowed and 1 continued: Are you, first
of all, in the habit of wearing boots
with large nails in the soles?
No was the reply. I do not do
the hard work on my farm, and my
boots are, therefore, of a lighter make.
Did you wear your light tweed coat
last evening"? 1 asked.
mo he said. I left it in the hall
and, feeling out of sorts, went for a
get back till 10 o'clock, and met no one
on the way whom knew. l did not
know the light coat was missing from
its usual place until was arrested this
afternoon
. Thanks I said. Now. let me look
at your left hand.
He held it out to me without hesita-
ton, and, taking it, compared it with
the impression had made. 1t was dis
similar in every way. Presently look
ed up into his face.
Don't let this worry you,' I said
There's another side to this business
which Sergeant Walters doesn't see.
He shot me a quick glance OF graft
tude, and 1 left him to return once
house. Arrived there, 1 made a careIul
house. Arrived there, I mae a careful
and systematic search of the ground in ,
front of the house. 1t was long and .
task, for it was rapidly
growing dark, but at last found what
wanted.
There were other prints of the
nailed boots besides those that LED
from the porch of the low veranda 70
and these led up to the ]
side of the house. There they turned ,
and following the side wall, turned
again at the western edge or the We (
randa and disappeared. 1t was clear j
that the owner of the boots mad s
stepped onto the tiled veranda at this {
point, and, traversing it halfway, mad l
the front door, which, as is
usual in country villages, could be $
opened from without. As quickly as I
could ] followed up this new line of !
footprints to it's starting point; but s
in this 1 was not as successful as 1 +
could have wished. Still, was begin :
ming to see daylight, for when at last ;
my search had to be abandoned, ow- :
ing to hard and rocky soil where no :
footprints were visible, I was within :
800 yards of the house of the iden- :
-ical poacher of whom Miss Flint had :
spoken. At last 1 was compelled to :
abandon the search out of doors. Re .
to the village, / mingled with :
The curious and excited population, lis
tened to their discussion of the great
event of the year, and passed myself
of as a mere idler about the country,
who CHANGED to find myself at that
Opportune moment in the little village
Of Brindlewood-
EARLY the following morning I
was again afoot. Going straight to the {
scene of the tragedy 1 climbed the s
fence and made my way slowly 1
supposed the murderer had taken af-
Ter firing the shot. Presently 4
emerged on a little stream or brook =
where there. was wide space in the 4
-hick growth of trees. All at once
ny eye lit on an object lying at the
side of the brook. 1t was a large
ed handkerchief such as men use in fl
which to tie a midday meal. Picking T
[ up l gave a start of surprise for G
[ was bedaubed with white paint and +,
had evidently been used to remove the ri
sticky substance from the hands of its il
owner. -
Following the stream to the right II
emerged on to the high road not a n
hundred yards from the house of the A
DOaChRr 7 m