Oxford Democrat. [volume] (Paris, Me.) 1833-1933, 1914-09-29

QppllcatlOn anu teTTluc sweat VI tus
wrestling mats In the training room.
After this Kindergarten training
Kearney went to the Identification
school, where he was taught the art OF
keeping a fellow human branded with
his guilt until the day Of his death.
At q little desk Of the same style OF
construction that is used in the public
schools he sat for days. listening keen
ly to lectures and watching his instruc,
tor draw on the blackboard human
proflles and sketches Of ears and noses.
Here he developed the power of obser.
vation and also strengthened his mem
DRY.
AS Kearney advanced in his profes-
sion he became known as a detective
who never stopped on trail until he
had caught up with the quarry. After
five years he was made first grade
lieutenant at headquarters. He had
become q silent, almost sullen, man.
looked up to by those under him and
feared by those over him. who drew
larger salaries, but who had less capac-
ity as man hunters.
If any Of the sense Of humOr had
come to him with his Irish blood Kear-
ney lost it In early youth with other
boyish pleasures.
But Kearney had one pleasure in life.
| This pleasure was his home. It was
not the home of the average man Of
thirty years, with contented wife and
growing children. but it was good
enough for Kearney, for his old mother
kept it spotlessly clean and snug for
him. and therein she worshiped her
only son. In a comfortable little fat
in the lower east side mother and son
lived. She was all the world to him.
and he was the apple of her eye.
The day before the trial Of James
Montgomery for murder Kearney start
ed home after long conference with
a young assistant district attorney who
had been given the case for prosecu.
tion. They had gone over the EVIL
dence together carefully, and both had
agreed, with considerable satisfaction,
that the jury would surely bring in
verdict Of murder in the second degree
II it failed to bring in first degree
verdict entailing death In the chair.
Counsel had been appointed by a
justice in the criminal division Of the
supreme court, as Montgomery was
friendless and penniless. An effort had
been made to have this lawyer plead
guilty to manslaughter for the de-
fendant. The docket was heavy. and
time and expense would be saved. For
thus helping out the county. Montgom-
cry would be repaid with sentence Of
fifteen or twenty years. But the boys
counsel reported that his client insist
ed on his innocence and refused to
plead guilty to any degree Of crime.
Mike Kearney was satisfied. His evil
lence was all in shape. He left the
cracked, dirty. criminal courts build
ing on Center street and threaded his
way into the lower east side. On o.
iver street, close to the old Cherry hill
section, he came to three story brick
building that had been fine residence
| in the days when Canal street was the
city's northern boundary. 1t had been
made over into fats, and his home was
on the top floor.
At the head of the top flight Of stairs
his mother stood waiting for him. She
kissed him and, with hand on his
arm, escorted him into the kitchen OF
the fat. She pulled chair up to the
kitchen table and hung up his hat and
coat.
The room was spotless and had a
wholesome, homely aspect. The only
picture on the kitchen walls-and the
kitchen was also the dining room for
mother and son-was that Of the Saw
iour.
At the two open windows gentle
breeze of the autumn evening made
crispy scrim curtains rise. flutter and
fall. Kearney tilted his chair back
against the wall and sighed his con-
tent as he sat in his shirt sleeves and
glanced about the room. He had as
yet said nothing.
"Ye're that solemn, Nike" protested
his mother, that ye'd give good
fairy til blues. What's ailin' ye. lad?'
"Nuthin," he replied. Il gotta case
on tomorrow, and l don't want to
make slip up"
"a big case?" she asked.
mo, but it's murder"
"Murder! she echoed with awe In
her voice.
"The Montgomery case told ye
about"
"Oh, an he's only broth of bOyP'
Crooks start young"
She spread clean cloth In the rear
of the little, old fashioned house. crept
to the scrlm curtains and darkened
them. Kearney closed the windows
and lighted the gas Jet over the center
| of the room.
The mother placed bread and butter,
boiled beef. potatoes and cabbage on
the table, and they sat down for their
evening neal. Mrs. Kearney made the
sign Of the cross, and her son. from
long habit, bowed his head and touch
ed his breast In three places.
They were eating in silence when the
electric bell beside the kitchen door
tingled feebly.
| who's that. wonderW asked hear'
ney. reaching behind him and pressing
the button which would open the street
entrance. They had resumed their
meal when there came light tap at
the door.
"Come in." called Mrs. Kearney.
The door opened The light over
head flooded the frail figure of WON
an in black. She was old and little
hit of a creature with the frame or Il
mere child. Her clothes were OF poor
quality, but were wonderfully neat and
tidy. She wore an old fashioned bon
net trimmed with stiff, white ruching
Her hands were ungloved. and they
showed small and thin and heavily vein
ed. Her face was very pale. and In
her faded eyI was light OF dreadful
anxiety.
"Come In. ma'am. won't ye. and have
a seat?' asked Mrs. Kearney, leaving
her chair and going to the visitor.
The little old woman entered anc
sat on the edge Of a chair offered her.
"Wbat con I do for you, ma am !?