Carolina watchman. [volume] (Salisbury, N.C.) 1871-1937, 1936-04-10

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occupants said when they stopped
to stare at her premises Or to read
her sign. Evidently the term
goose woman" had stuck, for she
heard it over and over again. The
manner in which it was used, the
laughter and the comment evoked
by her warning sign, were SO often
sive that she turned for comfort to
her gin bottle.
As to the crime itself, it had
created a genuine sensation. The
murder Of a man as prominent as
Amos Ethridge was bound to prove
front-page news, for he was more
than a figure of local importance.
To begin with, he was, or had been,
a man Of immense wealth-the
richest man in the whole state-a
political power, and in all PROBABLE
|ity the next Governor. Moreover,
the manner of his Staying, the Cir
cumstances surrounding it and the
evident ferocity of his assassin, had
rendered the crime peculiarly
shocking. He had been shot to
death, riddled with seven bullets,
while returning to his home lare
Thursday night. His body had not
been discovered until the following
morning; then it was lying in a
lane which connected a back road
with the rear of his handsome es-
tate and upon its breast was laid a
cross made of two dead twigs which
had been hurriedly tied together.
Neither the body nor its immediate
surroundings revealed any clue to
their identity of the slayer; nothing
indicated any reason whatever for
the crime unless a letter found in
one of Ethridge's pockets was an
indication. This letter, which, by
the way, was delicately scented, had
come through the mail and bore
the local Westland postmark; the
writing upon the envelope was in
a woman's hand, and inside was a
sheet of plain note paper containing
the one word, "Thursday." There
was no signature.
Why, in the first place, a bache-
lor who could come and go at his
will should make use of a narrow,
unlighted back road instead of the
broad, macadam thoroughfare
which passed his massive front
gates was pulling; why that cross
had been laid upon the body; why
in fact, anyone should wish to kill
Amos Ethridge all were matters
of pure conjecture. Questions like
these lent mystery to the affair,
and hat laconic, perfumed note
which might have been either a
warning or an assisnarion sPiced
it with a suggestion of scandal just
sufficient to intensity general inter-
est.
Mary Holmes dozed in her rock
ing chair. She was aroused by the
blare of an automobile horn and by
the sound of voices. A car in
which were several men had stop
ped before her house; one member
of the party had stepped down and
was trying to disengage the wire
fastenings of the gate; another,
with a press camera over his shoul-
der, was getting out. The man
at the gate started to climb the
fence, but he was halted by a chal-
lenge from the house, and looked up
to discover that a tall woman in a
faded Bingham dress had emerged
upon the porch and was facing him
threateningly. She was a vigorous
woman; long-limbed and erect,
and she carried her chin high. In
spite Of her ill-fitting garments, her
flat, shapeless shoes, and her untidy
hair, there was an air of command
about her and an appearance of
some consequence. That which
caused the fence climber to freeze
into immobility, however, was the
sight of a shotgun in her hands.
'1Hello! You're Miss Holmes, l
take it," he began, cheerily.
Get off that fence!"
TELL her who you are," n of
the fellows in the car directed.
The photographer hurriedly opened
the clasps of his camera case.
"We're newspaper men from
Chicago. We've been sent down
here on the Ethridge case and
we"
IF you are reporters you can
probably read," Mrs. Holmes told
him. "What does that siga say?"
cNou1 coo here this &c , bio story