Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1911-04-20
BY Mary Roberts-Ri,,eh

| walked with me.
| $50 you have lain down on the
easel" I said, when we had gone b
few steps without speaking.
He grumbled something unintelli-
gible and probably unrepeatable.
"Of course" persisted, "being q
simple and uncomplicated case Of sui
eide, there was nothing In it anyhow,
If 1t had been murder under peculiar
circums stances"
He stopped and gripped my arm.
| 'For ten cents" he said gravely. II
would tell the chief and few others
what I think Of them. And then I'd 60
out and get full"
mot on ten cents"
"I'm going out of the business" he
stormed. "I'm going to drive garbage
wagon; it's cleaner than this Job. Sui
| eide! never saw cleaner case Of"
He stopped suddenly. ''Do you know
| Burton-of the Times-Post?"
I, mo; I'VE heard of him."
"Well, he's your man. They're dead
against the ring and Burton's been
given the case. He's as sharp as a steel
trap You two get together"
He paused at the corner. Good by"
he said dejectedly. I'm off to hunt
some boys that have been stealing
milk bottles. That's about my size
these days" He turned around, how
ever. before he had gone many steps,
and same back.
"Wardrop has been missing since
Yesterday afternoon, he said. THAT is,
he thinks he's missing. We've got him
al! right
gave up my Bellwood visit for the
went to the Times-Post Office. The
Monday morning edition was already
under way as far as the staff was con-
cerned, and from the waiting-room
could see three or four men. with their
hats on, most of them rafting type
writer's. Burton came in in moment,
a red-haired young fellow, with short
thick nose and muggy skin. He was
rather stocky in build, and the pugnac-
ity of his features did not hide the
shrewdness Of his eyes.
introduced myself, and at my name
his perfuD Glory manner changed.
Knox" he said. ~ called you last
nisht over the phone"
"Can't we talk in more private
placer" I asked, trying to raise my
voice above the confusion Of the next
room. In reply he took me into a tiny
office, containing desk and two
chairs. and separated by an eight-foot
partition from the other room.
"This is the best we have" he ex.
/ planned cheerfully. Newspapers are
agents of publicity not priyacy-if you
don't care what you say"
I liked Burton. There was some
thing genuine about him: after War.
dron's kid glove finish. he was relief.
Hunter. of the detective bureau,
sent me here" proceeded, "about the
Fleming case"
| He took out his notebook. "You are
the fourth today" he said. Hunter him
self Lightfoot from Plattsburg and
Merely here in town. Well, Mr.. Knox,
are you willing now to put yourself on
record that Fleming committed sui
cide?"
"No" said firmly. 1T is my belief
that he was murdered.
"And that the secretary fellow,
what's his name -Wardrop that he
killed him?"
Possibly" ,
In reply Burton fumbled in his
pocket and brought IN a small paste
board box filed with jewelers. cotton.
Underneath was a small object, which
he passed to, me with care.
81 got it from the coroner's Dhysi-
clan who nerformed the autopsy" he
said casually. "You will notice that 1t is
thirty-two. and that the revolver
they took from Wardrop was thirty
eight Question. where's the other
| gum
rave him back the bullet and be
rolled it around on the palm of his
hand
Little thing. isn't it," he said. eve
think we're lords Of creation. until we
see a ruarter-incb bichloride tablet. or
a bit Of lead like This. Look here" He
diyed into bis rocket again and drew
ont roll of ordinary brown paper.
When he opened it bit of white chalk
fell on the desk.
ST ook at that" he sai7 dramatically.
Kill an army with it. and thev'd never
know what struck them. Cyanide OF po-
tassium-and the druggist that sold 1t
oueht to be choked."
where did it come FROM" asked
c1riously. Burton smiled his cheerful
smile
'It's a beautiful case. all around. :
he said. as he got his hat. II haven't
had anv Sunday dinner yet and It's
five o'clock. Oh,-tbe cyanide? Clark
son. the cashier of the bank Fleming
ruined. took bite off that corner right
there. this morning."
"Clarkson!" I exclaimed. How Is
he?"
"God oplv knows" said Burton
gravelv. from which took it Clarkson
was dead.
CHAPTER XIII.
prr+on listened while he ate. and his
cheerful comments were welcome
! crouch after the depression OF the last
/ few davs. I told him, after some hest
taticr. the whole thing, beginning from
the Maitland pearls and ending with
nv drop down the dumb waiter
knew ! was absolutely safe in doing
so: there is no person in the world to
whom would rather tell secret than
/ a newspaper man. He will go out OF
his way to keen it; he will lock 1t IN
L.