Courier Democrat. (Langdon, N.D.) 1891-1920, 1905-07-20
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en- that 1 had the sense to turn ava
from him and to marry a better. if
poorer, man. I was engaged to him.
Mr.. Holmes, when 1 heard a shocking
story of how he had turned q cat loose
in an aviary, and 1 was so Mortified at
his brutal cruelty that l would have
nothing more to do with him. She rum
mayed in a bureau, and presently she
produced a photograph Of a woman
shamefully defaced and mutilated with
a knife. That is my own photograph
she said. He sent it to me in that
state, with his curse, upon my wedding
morning.
"'Well,' said I, at least he has for
given you now, since he has left all his
property to your son.
"'Neither my son nor I want any
thing from Jonas Oldacre, dead or
alive! she cried, with a proper spirit.
There is a God in heaven, Mr.. Holmes,
andythat same God who has punished
that wicked man will show in his own
good time that my sons hands are
guiltless Of his blood
Well, / tried one or two leads, but
could get at nothing which would help
our hypothesis and several points
which would make against it. l gave
it up at last, and off 1 went to Nor
wood.
This place, Deep Dene House. is a
big modern villa of staring brick stand
ing back in its own grounds, with a
laurel dumped lawn in front of it. To
the right and some distance back from
the road was the timber yard which
had been the scene Of the fire. Here's
a rough plan on a leaf Of my notebook.
This window on the left is the one
which opens into Oldacre's room. You
can look into 1t from the road, you see.
That is about the only bit of consola-
ton / have had today. Lestrade was
not there, but his head constable did
the honors. They had just found a
great treasure trove. They had spent
the morning raking among the ashes
of the burned wood pile, and besides
the charred organic remains they had
secured several discolored metal disks.
I examined them with care, and there
was no doubt that they were trouser
buttons. l ever distinguished that one
Of them was marked with the name Of
Hyams, who was Oldacre's tailor. l
then worked the lawn very carefully
for signs and traces, but this drought
has made everything as hard as iron.
Nothing was to be seen save that some
body or bundle had been dragged
through a low privet hedge which is in
q line with the wood pile. All that, of
course, fits in with the official theory.
I crawled about the lawn with an
August sun On my back, but 1 got up
at the end of an hour no wiser than
before.
well, after this fasco l went into
the bedroom and examined that also.
The blood stains were very slight, mere
smears and d~iscolorations, but IN
doubtedly fresh. The stick had been
removed, but there also the marks
were slight There is NO doubt about
the stick belonging to our client. He
admits it. Footmarks of both men
could be made out on the carpet, but
none Of any third person, which again
is a trick for the other side. They
were piling up their score all the time,
and we were at a standstill.
"Only little CLEAN Of hope did l
get, and yet it amounted to nothing.
I examined the contents Of the safe,
most Of which had been taken out and
left on the table. The papers had been
made up into sealed envelopes, one OF
two Of which had been opened by the
police. They were not, so far as ]
could judge, Of any great value. no1
did the bank book show that Mr.. Old.
acre was In such very af1uent circum'
stances. But 1t seemed to me that all
the papers were not there. There
were illusions to some deeds-possib1y
the more valuabIe-which I could not
find This, of course, if we could def.
nftely prove 1t, would turn Lestrade's
argument against himself, for who
would steal a thing if he knew that be
would shortly inherit It?
"Ffnally, having drawn every other
cover and picked up no scent l tried
my luck with the housekeeper. Mrs.
Lexington is her name-a little, dark,
silent person, with suspicious and side
long eyes. She could tell US something
If she would. l am convinced of it.
BUT she was as close as wax. Yes, she
had let Mr.. McFarlane In at half past
o. She wished her hand had witllered
before she had done So. She had gone
TO bed at half past 10. Her room was
at the other end of the house and she
could hear nothing of what passed.
Mr.. McFarlane had left his bat and, to
the best of her belief, his stick in the
hall. She had been awakened by the
alarm Of fire. Her poor, dear master
had certainly been murdered. Had he
any enemies? Well, every man had
enemies, but Mr.. Oldacre kept himself
very much to himself and only met
people in the way Of business. She had
seen the buttons and was sure that
they belonged to the clothes which be
had worn last night. The wood pile
was very dry, for it had not rained
for q month. 1t burned like finder,
and by the time she reached the spot
nothing could be seen but flames. She
~sng7 oil fha fraunon cmo!led the br1rD-