Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1906-10-12
CHATTER ".


l stared at him in the most pro-
found amazement.
Eyes, murder, Cousin Robert; as de-
liberate and cold-blooded a doing to
death Of an innocent man as has ever
befouled a corner OF Gods fair world"
He rose from IS chair and plowed
heavily up and down the room. The
veins started in his forehead his huge
hands knotted themselves tensely.
Listen. This afternoon a man lay
asleep on that couch in the corner. We
know the manner of mana keen in
vestigator, an indefatigable worker, an
honest fighter; but one who had never
done in all his life a mean or ignoble
action. There comes creak upon the
stairs, the door is opened softly, head
peers in. He-the murderer-enters the
room. He knew the custom of the house
in this warm September weather: the
doors open, the old servant asleep, the
master taking his regular siesta. How
far is he a criminal, how far a luna
tic? Is this act premeditated, or the
sudden tempting of opportunity? Who
can say? 1t is enough that in his dis
eased ina gination he has come to regard
the sleeper as an enemy who maliciously
set himself to destroy his theories and
to bring ridicule on the laborious work Of
years. His desire for revenge is con-
centrated on the man before him.
"How the thing came into his pos
session cannot guess, though that
should be a point easily discovered. He
himself may have obtained 1t from At
RIGA, or 1t may have come into his hands
by chance, as the chief Of the EntomO-
logical Museum. But he has it safe
enough shut up in the tin box which fell
from his pocket in your rooms. The
spring of the lid was defective, you may
remember; 1t is that same defective
spring that will hang him.
"He stands over there, listening and
watching. There Is no sound; the sleeper
will not wake. He opens the case upon
the dressing-table and lifts the thing
with tweezers-for every hair of it has
its poison. With scissors he cuts off
some score Of hairs, catching them in
the crease of folded sheet of note
paper. He replaces it in the case and
closes the lid. Like an ugly shadow
he fits across to the couch, kneels by it's
side, and one, two, three times blows
the hairs from the creased paper across
the intake of the sleeper's breath. He
turns, snatches up the case from the
table, and is gone, In FIVE hours Profess
sor Won Stockmar is dead of infamma-
| ton of the lungs. There is not a doc
tor In all Germany who would chal-
lenge that diagnosis. In nine hours Pro-
fessor Rudolf Marnac is accused by me,
Henry Graden, Of murder"
"But this deadly 'thing'!" cried, with
Il ufnb gGTHls =
beast, reptile, insect-what is 1t? Where
is it nowT
For answer he thrust his fingers into
his pocket and drew out the same wooden
matchbox that l had seen him with by
the bedside Of the dead man. He slid
1t half open and tapped 1t sideways on
the table under the lamp. A round,
fuzzy ball rolled out and lay motionless.
Suddenly a little black head protruded,
score Of tiny feet padded into motion,
and across the table there crept a hairy
caterpillar loathsome. disreputable
object, for across It's back lay a ragged
scar, where the hairs had been shorn
away.
''Do you recognize the speciesP'
In a faint-hearted way leaned across
to grasp it, but with a sudden motion he
brushed my hand aside.
81 see you do not" said he grimly.
cit is common enough in South Africa. -
With the end of match he carefully
pushed the insect back into the box,
and replaced it in his pocket
'The luck was against Marnac," he
continued. "Not for one moment do !
suggest that otherwise should have sus.
pected the truth. To begin with, the de-
feetive spring of the case allowed the
caterpillar to escape while he was bend
ing over poor Hermann. After he had
done his awful work he slipped it back