The Halifax Comet. — 1893-08-19 (Halifax, West Yorkshire, England)

THE COMET.  grad traveller's fables. To-day, however, by the invention of the phonograph—" At this moment the street door slammed loudly, and erratic footsteps were heard coming up the stairs. "That is Richard," said I. "As drunk as usual," replied Angus, as the footsteps passed our door with a clumsy kick, and continued their journey upstairs. "He is going to bed. Now, why Mrs. Pell keeps a ruffian like that in the house, and, still more, how she keeps him, is a mystery to me." "I heard the other day," said I, "that she was very well to do. But to resume," I added, as the sounds died away, and the orphan had apparently retired for the night, "do you mean to say that ill shout into this my words will remain bottled up until I choose to let them out again ? " "Certainly. You can try if you like." Angus came over and stood by the phonograph beside me. I had never seen this invention before, although I had heard of it; and, indeed, at the time of my story, it 'wee still a novelty in science. So, partly in joke, partly for want of anything better to say to the instrument, I bent down, turned the handle of the machine, and shouted into it, "Help ! help! murder I "  " Help ! help! murder ! " I started back and looked at Angus in white amazement. The words, that were a perfect echo of my own, had not come from the instrument, but from some part of the house above. For a moment we gazed at each other in terrified surprise, then rushed out of the room and up the stairs in the direction of the sound.  Angus's bed-room and mine were on the same floor as our sitting-room. The story above was occupied by Mrs. Pell's bedroom, Mr. Richard's room, and a box cupboard; while the servant inhabited the attic at the top of the house. As we gained the first landing we saw that our landlady's door was open. A faint light came from within the room, and, as we gained the threshold, this was the sight that chilled our blood with horror:  Beside the bed stood Richard. a lighted candle shaking to and fro in his trembling hands. His face, as reason began to shine through the fumes of drink, was absolutely palsied with horror. His knees shook as though he were about to drop, and his eyes, as he looked up on our entry, wore an expression the like of which, in all my experience (and I have seen many strange sights in my time), I can truly say I have never met.  On the bed itself lay our landlady, Mrs. Pell, with a horrid gash right across her throat. Blood was smeared and streaked across the counterpane, and here and there had formed small pools in its depressions. In one of these lay an operating knife—my knife —its ivory handle discoloured with the same awful red. A bundle of papers half protruded from the pillow. A sovereign or two lay about, and a leather purse was still clasped in the left hand of the murdered woman. Angus stewed to the bed. "She is quite dead," he said, after a moment's examination. "Do you mind keeping an eye on Master Richard whilst I fetch the police ? " With this he left the room, and I stood watching my companion. He was still dazed with the drink, and presently, without  —"Convicted by a Talking Machine."  ------. -".•••