The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1906-11-04

the light; she pressed Il TO her bosom, tonA-
ling il, soothing it with disjected word and
f~ragmentary phrase, as significant to the
listening detective a. even they could be to
her distracted heart.
Inscrutability is often a trait VI the de-
tached and solitary. Mr.. Gustavus Briare
had many acquaintance. but no friends.
Not one OF the acquaintance who knew
him as a wealthy old widower. precise Of
manner, m~ethodical OF life, had he thought
OF such a thing, would have attributed the
slightest tinge OF taste. emotion or passion
to him. And yet a little spark may glow
and spread unsupported within a barred
and shattered house until suddenly the whole
structure is enwrapped in flame.
So close a student of human passions as
Abb Cronkite, therefore. was not dismayed
by Mr.. Briare's reserve. Rather he well
coined il as a defence which II undermined
and shocked might fall and crush the one it
should protect,
This much Cronkite had learned both from
what he saw and overheard in Mrs. Neames's
house. Gustavus Briare was her brother
in-law; she was his deceased wife's sister.
Many had thought that they would
marry. Many others, knowing how oddly
the widows rugged nature was scanned
by both dogma and unconventionality
remembering how fiercely h had in
weighed against any such marriages and
yet how ardent and open had been her
expressions OF regard for Briare. had
shrugged their shoulders when he on
tinued visiting there.
Perhaps these visits had not beer so
single in purpose as gossips suspected and
Mrs. Neames believed. Certain it was
that Gustavus Briare spent much OF his
time in the library, where Adele Weir, Mrs.
Neames's companion, daughter Of her
dearest friend and treated virtually as ar
adopted child, was happy at congenial
work.
There he could indulge his taste for
music at the old fashioned piano. There
he set up an easel and dabbled with crayons,
water color and oils. And from there
Adele had precipitately fed one night
out into the unknown, leaving her mistress
and almost mother vaguely remorseful.
Not a pretty outline, but Cronkite be-
lieved the full facts were deeper and
darker. He therefore contrived through
Mrs. Neames's influence to secure the task
Of also ca~taloguing Mr.. Briare's library
at his house in town.
Quiet, monotonous work at first amid
the solitary shadows OF the book lined room.
Then Cronkite made a ~disoovery-a stack
Of typewriter manuscript on one OF the
lower shelves, nothing more important
tina a brief on some curious law point,
but on each sheet he noted the peculiarities
which had marked Thomas Knott's writing.
and at the top Of each sheet we're the initials
IT. X"
Moreover, the manuscript. while neatly
arranged and set in place, showed signs OF
having been Tumpled in an iron grasp-the
surprised, ~agitated, exultant grasp OF Gus
tavue Briare when he had recognized the
clue which must surely lead him to the girl
for whom his desire had been 80 intense,
for whom his hatred was now 40 deadly!
There could be no doubt Of it. The side
door OF the Aerial Building had been left
open that night. 1t had been possible for
one TO enter unobserved. to climb the un-
used stairs to the fifteenth floor; to attack,
TO strange the unprotected girl, to cast
her body down the elevator shaft. to sneak
down the stairs and out into the dark.
A mar answ ering Briare's description had
DCcsl oCchl OAbcAAhk hCdI Oy1 DT1dT6 3 state
ment to the Coroner of friendship with the
r~ecluse. Thomas Knott, was pslpably false.
There could be no doubt Of il. he was the
murderer.
Nevertheless. proof was lacking. Who,
who could supply it? Who, indeed. but the
one eyewitness tothe Iced without a name
Gustavus Briare himself!
Cronkite thought, and Cronkite acted.
He had scarce finished his preparations
when Briare entered the library.
Il found these sketches among a lot of
old papers, sir the detective said: DER
haps there are some you would wish to
preserve
Gustavus Briare sat at the desk, find
ng a sort Of reminiscent pleasure in turn
ing over the crayo sketches Of forgotten
days; reviving with each one at least a
shade of the interest it had inspired. A
we'll preserved man, of dignity and aplomb,
10 was a pleasure, in turn. for Cronkite, for
any one, to watch, to study the bearing
the conduct, Of so typical a specimen OF
Gods noblest work.
Here was the distant azure of mountains;
here was the verdure OF field and wood.
Here, ali. God, what, what wa here? So
gr~otesque, so terrible, SO absolutely damn
ing in its combination Of what was known
and what was hid--the crayon sketch which
he had made OF Adele Weir; and, adjusted
over its red lips, the false mustache Of
light, flowing hair which Thomas Knott
had worn that night-tha night
Thou art the man. began Abe
Cronkite, and then stopped appalled,.
No need now of accusation, confession,
arrest. The awful sweep OF mental con-
viction had lone its work. That crouching
wretch, with eyes devoid of reason and
mouth devoid of speech. clutching and
tearing at collar, at throat, with a stran-
gler's grasp. insanely seeking his own life,
as he had ferociously taken the life OF poor
Adele Weir, wa already punished
An INGENIOUS DRI MINER.