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LIFE OF AMELIA BUTTEPUOWH
*=f BVan%\ Katharine gpeen^*
. AUTHOR OF * THE LOVCMWORTH CA/t*
DtHIMO OLVU) XfCD&f l -p£/ AFfINC *K*T DCCnJ*
*<WrIGHT. BT AriHA L RONMC*•' C. K
CHAPTER XXIV.
THH ENIGMA OF NUMBER*.
“When I told yon that Mother Jane
was out of the question in this matter,
I meant out of the question for you. She
was a subject to be handled by the po
lice, and we have handled her. Yester
day afternoon I made a search of her
cabin.” Here Mr. Gryes paused and
eyed me quizzically. He sometimes does
eye me, which same I am not bound to
take as a compliment, considering how
fond he is of concentrating .11 his wis
dom upon small and insignificant ob
jects.
"I wonder,” said he, "what you
would have done in such a search as
that. It was no common one, I assure
you. There are not many hiding places
between Mother Jane’s four walla. ”
I felt myself begin to tremble, with
eagerness, of course.
“I wish I had been given the oppor
tunity,’’said I—“that is, if anything
was to be found there. ”
He seemed to be in a sympathetic
mood toward me, or perhaps—and this
is the likelier supposition—he had a
minute of leisure and thought he oould
afford to give himself a little quiet
amusement. However that is, he an
swered me by saying:
“The opportunity is not lost. You
have been in that cabin and have noted,
I have no doubt, its extreme simplicity
Yet it contains, or rather did oontain
up till last night, distinct evidences of
more than one of the crimes which have
been perpetrated in this lane.”
“Good! And you want me to guess
where you found them? Well, it’s not
fair. ”
“Ah, and why not?”
“Because you probably did not find
them on your first attempt. You had
time to look and change your mind and
look again. I am asked to guess at once
aud without second trial what, I war
rant, it took you several trials to deter
iniuo. ”
“Humph!” He oould not help but
laugh. “And why do you think it took
me several trials?”
“Because there is more than one
thing in that room made up of parts.”
“Parts?” He attempted to look puz
zled, but I would not have it
“You know what I mean,” I de
clared; “70 parts, 28, or whatever the
numbers are she so constantly mutters. ”
His admiration was unqualified and
sincere.
“Miss Bntterworth.” said he, “yon
are a woman after my own heart. How
came you to think that her mutterings
bad anything to do with a hiding
place?”
“Because it did not have anything to
do with ths amount of money I gave
her. When I handed her 25 cents, she
cried, ‘Seventy, 28 and now 10!' Ten
what? Not (0 cents or $lO, but ten”—
“Why do you stop!”
“I do not want to risk my reputation
on a guess. There is a quilt on the bed
made up of innumerable pieces. There
is a pavement under foot of neatly laid
brick”—
“And there is a Bible on the stand
whose leaves number many over 70.”
“Ah, was it in the Bible yon found”—
His smile put mine quite to shame.
“I must acknowledge,” he cried,
“that 1 looked in the Bible, but I found
nothing there beyond what we all seek
when we open its sacred covers. Shall I
tell my story?”
He was evidently bursting with pride.
You would think that after a half cen
tury of just such successes a man would
take his honors more quietly. But
pshaw! Human nature is just the same
in the old as in the young. He was no
more tired of oomplimentor of awaken
ing the astonishment of those he confided
in than if he w’as out on his first great
oase. Of course in presence of such
weakness I could do nothing less than
give him a sympathetic ear. I may bo
old myself some day. Besides, his story
w'as likely to prove more or less inter
esting.
“Yell your story, ” I repeated. "Don’t
you see that lam”—l was going to say
“on pins and needles till I hear it,” but
that is a vulgar expression for a woman
like myself aud might prove I was be
coming deteriorated by the business into
which I had been pushed more or less
against my will; so I altered the words
happily before they were spoken into—
“that lam in a state of the liveliest
curiosity concerning the whole matter?
Tell your Btory, of course. ”
“Well, Miss Butterworth, if I do it
is because I know you will appreciate
it. You, like myself, placed weight up
on the numbers she is forever running
over, aud you, like myself, have con
ceived the possibility of those numbers
having reference to something in the
one room she inhabita At first glance
the extreme bareness of the spot seem
ed to promise nothing to my curiosity.
I looked at the floor and encountered no
signs of any disturbance having taken
place in those symmetrically iaid bricks
for years. Yet I counted up to 70 one
way and 28 the other, aud marking the
brick thus selected began to pry it out
It came with difficulty and showed me
nothing underneath but green mold and
innumerable frightened insects. Then I
counted the bricks the other way, but
nothing came of it The floor does not
appear to have been disturbed for years.
Turning my attention away from the
floor, I began upon the quilt. This was
• worse job than the other, and it tod:
, me an honr to rip apart the block I set
tled upon as the suspicious one, bat it
all came to nothing also. There was no
hidden treasure iu the quilt. Then I
searched the walls, using the measure
ments 70 by 28, but no result followed
these endeavors, and—what do yon
think 1 did then?”
“You will tell me, ” I said, “if I give
you one more minute to do it in. ”
“Very well, ” said he. “I see you do
not know, madam. Having searched
below and around me, I next turned my
attention overhead. Do you remember
the Htriugs and strings of dried vegeta
bles that decorate the beams above?’ ’
"Ido,”1 said, not stinting any of
the astonishment I really felt
“Well, I began to count them next,
and when I reached the seventieth onion
from the open doorway I crushed it be
tween my fingers and—this fell out,
madam—worthless trinkets, as you will
immediately see, but” —
“Well, well.” I urged.
“They have been identified as belong
ing to the pedlar who was one of the
victims in whose fate we are interested. ’
“Ah, ah!” I cried out, somewhat
amazed, I own “And number 28?”
“That was a carrot, and it held a
really valuable ring—a ruhj T surrounded
by diamonds. If you remember, I onci
spoke to yon of this ring It was th>
property of young Mr Chittenden am
worn Ly bi:u while lie was in this vil
tage. He di-appeared on his way to tlr
mil way station. h:t-iiig taken, as mar l
can vouch for, the short detour 1 y Los
Man's lane which would lead him ri
i-ectlv ’ v ; '.no’s cottage. ’
I SHRANK A STEP UPWARD.
down with au,nii..ule self possession my
own thoughts in regard to this matter.
“And what of No. 10, beyond which
she said she could not count?”
“In 10 was your 25 cent piece, and in
various other vegetables small coins
whose whole value was of a pitiful
smallness. The only numbers which
seemed to make any impression on her
mind were those connected with these
crimes. Very good evidence, Miss But
terworth, that Mother .lane holds the
clew to this matter, even if she is not
responsible for the actual killing and
putting away of the individuals repre
sented by this property. ”
“Certainly,” i acquiesced, “and if
yon though to examine her after her re
turn from the Knollys mansion last
night you would probably have found
upon her some similar evidence of her
complicity in the last crime of this ter
rible series. It would needs have been
small, as silly Rufus, as I take it,
neither indulged in the brass trinkets
sold by the old pedlar nor the real jew
elry of a well to do man like the young
westerner. ”
“Silly Rufus?”
“He wws the last to disappear from
these parts, was he not?’ ’
“Yes, madam. ”
“And as such should have left some
clew to his fate in the hands of this old
crone if her motive in removing him
was, as you seem to think, entirely that
of gain.”
“I did not say it was entirely so. Sil
ly Rufns would bo the last person any
one, even such a non compos mentis as
Mother Jane, would destroy for hope of
gain. ”
“But what other motive could she
have, and, Mr. ( ryce, where could she
bestow the bodies of so many unfortu
nate victims, even ix by her great
strength she could succeed in killing
them?”
“There you have us,” said he. “We
have not been able as yet to unearth
any bodies. Have yon?”
“No.” said I. with some little show
of triumph showing through my disdain,
“but I can 6how you where to nnearth
one. ”
He should have been startled, pro
foundly startled. Why wasn’t he? I
asked that of myself over and over in
the one instant he weighed his words
before answering.
“Yon know something then, definite
ly,” be declared. “Yon have come
across a grave or a mound which you
have taken for a grava ”
I shook my head.
“No mound,” said L Why should I
not play for an instant or more with his
curiosity? He had with mine.
“Ah, then, why do yon talk of un
earthing? No one has told yon where
you cau lay hand on Silly Rufus’ body.
I take it. ”
“No,” said L “Thehouse Knollys is
not inclined to give up its secrets.”
He started, glancing almost remorse
fully first at the tip, then at the head
of the cane he was balancing in his
hand.
“It’s too bad,” he muttered, “but
you’ve been led astray, Miss Butter
worth, excusably, I acknowledge, quite
excusably, but yet in a way to give you
quite wrong conclusions. The secret of
the Knollys house— But wait a mo
ment. Theu you were uot locked up in
your room last night?”
“Scarcely,” I returned, wavering be
tweeu the doubts he had awakened by
his first sentence and the surprise which
his last could not fail to give ma
“I might have known they would not
be likely to catch you in a trap, ” he re
marked. “So you were up and in the
halls?”
“Iwasup, ” said I, “and in the halla
May I ask where you were?”
He paid no heed to the last sentence
“This complicates matters,” said he,
“and yet perhaps it is as well. I under
stand yon now, and in a few minutes
you will understand ma You thought
it was silly Rufus who was buried last
night. That was rather an awful
thought, Miss Butterworth. I wonder
that you look as well as you do, madam
Truly you are a wonderful woman—a
very wonderful woman.”
“A trace to compliments,” I cried.
“If yon know as much as your words
show of what went on in that ill omened
bouse last night, you ought to show
some degree of emotion yourself, for if
it was not silly Rufus who was laid
away under the flower parlor who,
then, was it? No one for whom tears
could openly be shed or of w’hose death
public acknowledgment could be made,
or we would not be sitting here talking
away at cross purposes the morning aft
er his burial.”
“Tears are not shed or public ac
knowledgment made for the subject of
a half crazy man’s love for scientific in
vestigation. It was a dog you saw
buried, madam—a favorite dog which
Mr. Knollys loved, but which for all
that could not escape that half monster’s
passion for vivisection.”
“You are playing with me,” I cried,
“outrageously and inexcusably playing
with me. A dog laid away in such
secrecy and with such a degree of feel
ing as I was witness to? You must
think me in my dotage, or else”—
“We will take the rest of the sen
tence for granted, ”he said. “Yon know
that I can have no wish to insult your
intelligence. Miss Butterworth, and if 1
say dog I must have ample reasons for
it. Can you contradict those reasons?
Do you know it was a man that was
buried there last night? If yon do, there
*is no more to be said, or, rather, there
is everything to be said, for that would
give to the transaction of last night a
very dreadful and tragic significance
which at present I am not disposed to
ascribe to it. ”
Taken aback, almost overwhelmed by
a statement for which I was in no de
gree prepared, aud yet which I could
not bnt think false for all his quiet self
assurance, I stolidly replied:
“Since yon say it was a dog, prove
that. It will be time enough for me to
talk when your supposition is proved
untenable.”
“Madam”—he was not angry; fel
low feeling for the disappointment he
considered me a prey to made him very
gentle to me—“madam, if yon know it'
was not a dog, say so. Ido uot wish to
waste my time. ”
“I do not know it.”
“Very well, then, I will tell you why
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I think my supposition true. Mr. Knol
lys, as you probably have already dis
covered, is a man with a secret passion
for vivisection. ”
“Yes,” said I, “I have discovered
that. ”
“It is known to his family, and it is
known to a very few others, but it is
not known to the world at large, not
even to his fellow villagers.”
“I can believe it,” said I.
“His sisters, who are gentle girls,
feel dreadful about it. They have
tried in every way to influence him to
abandon it, but unsuccessfully so far,
for he is not only entirely unamenable
to persuasion, but has a nature of such
brutality he could not live without some
such excitement to help away his life
in this dreary house. All they can do,
then, is to conceal these cruelties from
the eyes of the people who already exe
crate him for his many roughnesses and
the undoubted shadow under which he
lives. Time was when I thought this
shadow had a substance worth our in
vestigation but a further knowledge of
his real fault and a completer knowl
edge of his sisters’ virtues turned my
inquiries in anew direction, where I
have found, as I have told you, actual
reason for arresting Mother Jane. Have
you anything to say against it? Cannot
you see that all your suspicions can be
explained by the brother’s cruel im
pulses and the sisters’ horror of having
those impulses known?”
I thought a moment; then I cried out
boldly: “No. I cannot, Mr. Gryce. The
anxiety, the fear, which I saw depicted
on those sisters’ faces for days might
have some such explanation perhaps,
but the knot of crape on the window
6hutter, the open Bible in the room of
death (William’s room), Mr. Gryce,
proclaim that it was a human being for
whom Lucetta's sobs went np, and so
shall I continue to think till investiga
tion has proved my mistake.”
“I do uot follow you,” he said,
moved for the first time from his com
posure. “ What do yon mean by a knot
of crape, and when was it you obtained
entrance into William’s room?”
“I have points to relate,” was my
quiet retort, “as interesting as anything
you have told me of your investigations
at Mother Jane's cottage. Did you think
I simply walked on the outside of
things, Mr. Gryce?”
“I should not have done yon that in
justice. ”
“I have pierced, as I think, deeper
than even yourself into William’s char
acter. I think him capable—bnt do sat
isfy my curiosity on one point first, Mr.
Gryce. How came you to know as much
as you do about last night’s proceed
ings? You could not have been in the
house. Did you succeed, then, in mak
ing Mother Jane reveal on her return
what it was she took part in?”
The tip of his cane was up, and he
frowned at it Then the handle took its
place, and he gave it a good natured
smile.
“Miss Butterworth, ” said he, “I have
not succeeded in making Mother Jane
at any time go beyond her numerical
monologue. But you have been more
successful. ” And with a sudden marvel
ous change of expression, pose and man
ner he threw over his head my shawl,
which had fallen to the floor in my as
tonishment, and, rocking himself to and
fro before me, muttered grimly:
“Seventy 1 Twenty-eight! Ten! No
more, I can count no more. Go. ”
“Mr. Gryce.” I exclaimed, “it was
then you I saw”—
“In Mother Jane’s cottage with Mr.
Knollys, ”he finished. “Aud it was I
who helped to bury what you now de
clare, to my real terror aud astonish
ment, to have been a human being. Miss
Butterworth, what about the knot of
crape? Tell me. ”
I
[TO BE CONTINUED.]
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