The Tupelo journal., 1908-09-04

meal.
Its incomprehensible," he said, as
he read the third time the damning
details. His whole life. his success,
his approaching marriage, everything
cries out against this crime"
so they did in the case of Eugene
Aram.' l replied. land yet Aram pro-
tested his innocence. If Edgerton is
not guilty, it should be a simple mat
ter for him to account for his where
abouts from 1870 to 10 last night, but
this he refuses to do. | am Of the
opinion that for once the police have
shown commendable energy and
nabbed the right man. Can you imag-
inc a more convincing chain of cir
cumstantial evidence?"
Il don't have to imagine. The his
tory of circumstantial evidence con-
tains many a more perfect chain which
was only broken after an innocent
man had been hanged"
Then, again." he continued, what
do you make of the robbery? If
through jealousy Edgerton killed Gar
ner, why should he rife his pockets,
tear out a ~diamond-stud, and wrench
the ring off his finger like a common
freebooter"
That might have been the work of
someone else who arrived on the scene
after the murderer had fed" | sug-
gested.
"A stronger argument on your side
would be that it was lone to throw
the police off the track. But we argue
10 no purpose, and I, for one, propose
to await the sequel"
1t was the old, old story, the fatal
triangle, in the demonstration of which
tragedy has been the corollary since
the world began-two men and one
woman.
Arthur Edgerton possessed the three
almost priceless talismen to the gates
of modern society: youth, good looks,
and wealth; and these had won for
him the master-key: social position,
despite the handicap of a~ntecedents
unknown, some said, even doubtful.
Harrison Garner put into the bal
ance against these: wealth, a family
name honored for generations, and an
unblemished character. Edgerton's
brilliancy he Offset by unfailing good
humor and wholesomeness.
Maize Morrison, secure in her own
little social realm and with no lack OF
suitors for the hand of its queen. had
played n against the other. She had
finally silenced the gossips by accept
ing Edgerton, and then set their
tongues wagging faster than ever by
receiving both on equal terms, despite
the cards and the ring and all the de
lightful, bothersome preliminaries to
matrimony.
And then the sequel: Garner found
shot through the heart in Edgerton's
automobile on a lonely spot on the
Lake Shore drive; Edgerton, blood be-
spattered, behind prison bars. and
Maize Morrison, weeping, inconsolable,
~distraught. in her pretty boudoir.
stunned at the havoc her little hands
had wrought in three lives. This was
the picture [ painted that summer
hiOihAhS Ut tiC ottdhldot ldDIS. Later
I found the canvas wanted retouching
sadly.
Ignoring the futility of the argu-
ment, Clarke and | prolonged our dis
cussion OF the case in the library over
o. cigars where We were interrupted
by the sound of carriage wheels.
Clarke's lark features lighted with ex-
pectancy. ! wondered if his remark
able prescience told him that the ve-
hicle stopping at our entrance held
any connection for us with the tragedy
OF the night before. Or was | absorb
ing a portion of his sensitive intelli-
gence?
Yes, the call was for us. The bell
rang and we heard our servant. who at
this period CHANGED to be a Jan boy.
blandly answering a feminine voice
which inquired for Mr.. Carlton Clarke.
Our visitor was heavily yelled. and
as Clarke stepped forward to offer her
a chair, l was able to judge nothing of
her personality beyond that she was
young and owned a figure, svelte, but
suggesting through her dark costume.
animallike lines and curves. Or was
it the art of the dressmaker exempIi-
fed in a perfectly gowned woman?
Il an Miss Maize Morrison, Mr..
Clarke" she said sadly, lifting her veil
from a face, the beauty of which even
the evident traces of tears could not
mar, and brushing back her dark.
rebellious hair with a dainty little hand
on which sparkled an Engagement
ring.
Yes, Miss Morrison, | am glad YOU
have called OF me. 1t is about the
Edgerton case, | suppose" replied
Clarke, while | discreetly retired be-
hind the p~ortiere of my bedroom door.
20, yes, Mr.. Clarke. You have seen
the papers. You know the terrible
trouble | am in. 1t seems that no one
a help me, but | heard papa and
brother Joe talking about what you
did for Richard King and | have com
to you. | had a perfectly dreadful time
slipping away from home. ] I'm
watched by the police and even by my
own family, but / know Arthur did not
do that dreadful thing and | simply
had to talk with some one who would
believe me You .don't think he did it,
do you?"
Miss Morrison, | do not know. but,