Atlanta Georgian. [volume] (Atlanta, Ga.) 1912-1939, 1912-09-26

| ''70 mans VINO hadtWorn the same look,
but none of them had put up a sign on
their door that they had left for New
ork and would mot be back till $50.
and then changed their minds so suddenly
that they were{b back in the tenement at
g. sharing thet curiosity and the terrors
Of its Mortified inmates
BUT the discovery, while possibly sug-
gestlVe was'not of so pressing a nature
| as TO demand instant action; and more
| lhlmedlate' duties coming up ! let the
matter slip from my mind, to be brought
up again. the next day you NAV well be-
lleVe, when all the circumstances of the
death at the Clermont came to light and
l found myself confronted by a problem
| very nearly the counterpart Of the one
| then occupying me.
But did not see any real connection
| between the two cases until. in my
hunt for Mr.. Brotherson, | came upon
the following facts: that he was not al
| ways the gentleman he appeared that
the apartment in which he was supposed
60 live was not his own, but a friends;
Fthat he was only there by spells. When
4 ne was there he dressed like a prince and
4 1t was while so clothed he ate his meals
in the cafe of the Hotel Clermont
But there We're times when he had
been seen to leave this apartment in a
very different garb. and while there was
no one to insinuate that he was slack
| in paying his debts or was given to dis.
slpation or any overt vice, it was general
~ conceded by such as casually knew
him that there was a mysterious side to
his life which no one understood. His
triend-a seemingly candid and open
minded entleman-explained these con
Il - tNy,e. h., ~
was humanitarian and spent much of
his time in the slums. That while so
| engaged he naturally dressed to suit the
occasion, and if he was to be criticised
at all 1t was for his zeal. which often
| led him to extremes and kept him to his
| task for days, during which time none
OF his uptown friends saw him. Then this
enthusiastic gentleman called him the
great intellectual light of the day, and
well, If ever l want character | shall
take pains to insinuate myself into the
good graces of this Mr. Conway
| "Of Brotherson himself ! saw nothing
| He had come to Mr.. Conway's apartment
the night before-the night of Miss Chal-
loners death, you understandable had
remained only long enough to change his
| clothes. Where he went afterwards is
unknown to Mr.. Conway, nor can he
tell us when to look for his return. When
he does show up, my message will be
| given him, etc. l have no fault to find
with Mr.. Conway.
But l had an idea in regard to this
elusive Brotherson. I had heard enough
about him to be mighty sure that to-
gether with his other accomplishments he
possessed the golden tongue and easy
speech of an orator. Also, that his
! tendencies were revolutionary and that
| for all his fine clothes and laundering
| after table luxuries and the like, he cher
| ished spite against wealth which made
| his words under certain moods cut like
| knife. But there was another man, known
/ to us of the -- precinct, who had very
nearly these same gifts, and this man
was going to speak at a secret meeting
| that very evening. This we had been told
| by disgruntled member of the Asso-
ciated Brotherhood. Suspecting Brother
| son. l had this prospective speaker de-
| scribed, and thought / recognized my
man. But L wanted to be positive in my
| Identification, so L took Anderson with
me, and-but I'll cut that short. We
didn't see the orator and that go went
| for nothing; but l had another string to
my bow in the shape of the workman
| Dunn, who also answered to the descrip-
| ton which had been given me; so l lugged
poor Anderson over into Hicks street.
TT was late for the visit / proposed,
but not too late, If Dunn was also the
orator who, surprised by raid I had not
| been let into, would be making for his
! home, If only to establish an alibi The
subway was near, and l calculated on his
\ using it, but we took a. taxicab and so
] arrived in Hicks street some few min
utes before him. The result you know.
| Anderson recognized the man as the one
whom he saw washing his hands in the
snow outside of the Clermont, and the
man, seeing himself discovered owned
| himself to be Brotherson and made no
| difficulty about accompanying us the next
| day to the coroner's office,
"You have heard how he bore himself;
what his explanations were and how com
pletely they fitted in with the precon-
ceived notions of the inspector and the
| district attorney. In consequence, Miss
| Challoner's death is looked upon as sui
| cide-the impulsive act of a woman who
! sees the man she may have secuted but
whom she secretly loves turn away from
her in all probability forever. A weapon
was IN her hand-she impusively used it,
and another deplorabe suicide was added
! to the melancholy list. Had | put in my
| oar at the conference held in the coro-
! ners office; had / recalled to DR.. Heath
the curious case of Mrs. SPOTS, and then
| identified Brotherson as the man whose
window fronted hers from the opposite
tenement, a diversion might have been
created and the outcome been different.
| But | feared the experiment. I'm not
sufficiently in with the chief as yet nor
! with the inspector. They might not have
called me a fool-you may, but that's
, different-and they might have listened,
! but it would doubtless have been with an
air / could not have held up against,
with that fellows eyes fixed mockingly
on mine. For he and / are pitted for a
] struggle, and | do not want to give him
| the advantage Of even a momentary
| triumph He's the most complete master
| of himself of any man l ever met and it
will take the united brain and resolu
! ton Of the whole force to bring him 10
book-if he ever is brought to book, which
| doubt. What do you think about it?"
That you have given me an antidote
gainst old age" was the ringing and
unexpected reply, as the thoughtful, half
puzzled aspect of the old man yielded