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ITEARST’S SI XT)AV AMERICAN, ATLANTA. HA., SUNDAY, DECEMBER 21. 1912.
den re as has been brought before us during this
Inquiry. If your wife committed suicide, or if
the entrance of the point of a hatpin into
spine was effected by accident, how comes the
head of the pin to have been found so many fee:
away from her and in such a place as the
parlor register?”
••it may have flown there when it broke, or.
what is much more probable, been kicked there
by some of the many people who passed in anu
out of the room between the time of her death
and that of its discovery."
“But the register was found closed.” urged the
Coroner. ‘‘Was it not, Mr. Gryce?”
That person thus appealed to rose for an in
stant. “It was,” said he, and deliberately sat
down again.
The face of the witness, which had been
singularly free from expression since his last
vehement outbreak, clouded over for an Instant
and his eye fell as he felt himself engaged in
an unequal struggle. But he recovered his
courage speedily, and quietly observed:
“The register may have been closed by a
passing foot I have known of stranger coinci
dences than that"
"Mr. Van Bumam." asked the Coroner, as If
weary of subterfuge® and argument, "hare rou
considered the effect which this highly oontra-
dictory evidence of yours Is likely to have on
your reputation?”
“I have.”-"
“And are you ready to accept the conse
quences?”
“If any especial consequences follow, I must
accept them, sir.”
“When did you lose the keys which you say
you have not now in your possession? This
morning you asserted that you did not know;
but perhaps this afternoon you may like to
modify that statement.” j
“I lost them after I left my wife shut up In
my father’s house.”
“Soon?”
“But it was within an hour after leaving the
house?”
“Yes.”
“Very soon.”
“How V>on?”
“Within an hour. I should Judge."
“How do you know it wag so soon?"
”1 missed them at once."
“Where were you when you missed them?"
“1 don’t know; somewhere. I was walking
the streets, as I have said. I don’t remember
just where I was when I thrust my hands Into
my pocket and found the keys gone."
“You do not?"
“No.”
“Very good; the keys have been found."
The witness started, started so violently that
his teeth came together with a click loud enough
to be heard over the whole room.
“Have they?” said he, with an effort at non
chalance, which, however, failed to deceive any
one who noticed his change of color. “You can
tell me. then, w’here t lost them.”
“They were found,” said the Coroner "In their*
usual place above your brother's desk in Duane
street.”
“Oh!” murmured the witness, utterly taken
aback or appearing so. “I can not account for
their being found in the office. I was so sure 1
dropped them in the street.”
“I did not think you could account for it,”
quietly observed the Coroner. And without an
other word he dismissed the witness, who stag
gered to a seat as remote as possible from the
one where he had previously been sitting be
tween his father and brother.
CHAPTER XIII.
A Reluctant Witness.
A PAUSE of decided duration now followed,
an exasperating pause which tried even
me, much as 1 pride myself upon my patience.
There seemed to be some hitch In regard to the
next witness. The Coroner sent Mr. Gryce into
the neighboring room more than once, and final
ly. when the general uneasiness seemed on the
point of expressing itself by a loud murmur, a
gentleman stepped forth, whose appearance,
instead of allaying the excitement, renewed it in
quite an unprecedented and remarkable way.
I did not know the person thus Introduced.
He was a handsome man, a very handsome
man, if the truth must be told, but it did not
seem to be this fact which made half the people
there crane their heads to catch a glimpse of
him. Something else, something entirely dis
connected with his appearance there as a wit
ness, appeared to hold the people enthralled and
awaken a subdued enthusiasm which showed
itself not only in smiles, hut in whispers and
significant* nudges, chiefly among the women,
though I noticed that the jifrymen stared when
somebody obliged them with the name of this
new witness. At last It reached my ears, and
though it awakened in me also a decided curi
osity, I restrained all expression of it, being
unwilling to add one jot to this ridiculous dis
play of human weakness.
Randolph Stone, as the Intended husband of
the rich Miss Althorpe, was a figure of some
importance in the city, and while I was very
glad of thlg opportunity of seeing him, I did not
propose to lose my head or forget in the marked
interest his person invoked the very serious
cause which had brought him before us. And
yet I suppose no one in the room observed his
figure more minutely.
He was elegantly made and possessed, as I
have said, a face of peculiar beauty. But. these
were not his only claims to admiration. He was
a man of undoubted intelligence and great dis
tinction of manner. The intelligence did not
surprise me. knowing, as I did. how he had
raised himself to his present enviable position
in society in the short space of five years. But
the perfection of his manner astonished me.
though how I could have expected anything
less in a man honored by Miss Althorpe’s regard
I can not say. He had that clear pallor of com
plexion which in a smooth-shaven face is so
impressive, and his voice w T hen he spoke had
that music in it which only comes from great
cultivation and a deliberate intent to please.
He wag a friend .of Howard's, that I saw by
the short look that passed between them when
he first entered the room; but that it was not as
a friend he stood there was apparent from the
state of amazement with which the former rec
ognized him, as well as from the regret to be
seen underlying the polished manner of tlie
witness himself. Though perfectly self-pos
sessed and perfectly respectful, he showed by
every means possible the pain he felt in adding
one featherweight to the evidence against a
man with whom he was on terms of more or less
intimacy.
But let me give his testimony. Having ac
knowledged that he knew the Van Bumam fam
ily well, and Howard in particular, he went on
to state that on the night of the 17th ho had
been detained at his office by business of a more
than usual pressing nature, and finding that
he could expect no rest fdr that night, humored
himself by getting off the cars at Twenty-first
street instead of proceeding on to Thirty-third
street, where his apartments were.
The smile which these words caused (Miss
Althorpe lived in Twenty-first street) woke no
corresponding light on -his face. Indeed, he
frowned at it, as if he felt that the gravity of
the situation admitted of nothing frivolous or
humorsome. And this feeling was shared hv
Howard, for he started when the witness raen-
Xioned Twenty-first street, and cast him a hag
gard look of dismay which happily no one saw
but myself, for everyone else was concerned
with the witness. Or should I except Mr. Gryce?
“I had, of course, no intentions beyond a short
stroll through this street previous to returning
to my home.” continued the witness, gravely,
“and am sorry to be obliged to mention this
freak of mine, but find it necessary in order to
account for my presence there at so unusual an
hour.”
(To Be Continued Next Sunday.)
Copyright, 1897. by Anna K. Rohlfs,
Publishers G. P. Putnam’s Sons,
New York and London,
excuse she gave me for the precautions she
took, though I think the delight she experienced
in anything romantic and unusual had as much
?o do with it as anything else. She enjoyed the
game she was playing, and wished to make as
much of it as possible.”
“Were her own garments much richer than
those she ordered from Altman’s?”
“Undoubtedly. Mrs. Van Bumam wore noth
ing made by American seamstresses. Fine
clothes was her weakness.”
“I see, 1 see; but why such an attempt on
your part to keep yourself in the background?
Why let your wife write your assumed names in
the hotel register, for instance, instead of doing
it yourself?*'
‘ It was easier for her; I know no other rea
son. She did not mind putting down the name
Pope. I did.”
It was an ungracious reflection upon his wife,
and he seemed tci feel it so; for he almost im
mediately added: "A man will sometimes lend
himself to a scheme of which the details are
obnoxious. It was so In this rase, but she was
too interested In her plans to be affected by so
small a matter a* this.”
This explained more than one mysterious ac
tion on the part of this pair while they were at
the Hotel D . The Coroner evidently con
sidered it In this light, for he dwelt but little
longer on this phase of the case, passing at once
to a fact concerning which curiosity had hith
erto been roused without receiving any satisfac
tion.
"Tn leaving the hotel,” said he. "you and
your wife were seen carrying certain packages,
which were missing from your arms w’hen yon
alighted at Mr. Van Burnam’s house. What was
in those packages, and where did you dispose
of them before you entered the second car
riage ?”
“My wife’s clothes were in them.” said he.
“and we dropped them somewhere on Twenty-
seventh street near Third avenue, just as we
saw an old woman coming along the sidewalk.
We* knew that she would stop and pick them
up, and she did, for we.slid into a dark shadow'
made by a projecting stoop and watched her.
Is that too simple a method for diposing of cer
tain encumbering bundles, to be believed, sir?”
“That is for the jury to decide,” answered the
Coroner, stiffly.
“Mr. Van Burnam*,” said he. "you showed a
great deal of feeling this morning at being con
fronted with your wife’s hat. Why wag this,
and why did von wait till you saw this evidence
of her presence on the scene of death to ac
knowledge the facts you have been good enough
to give us this afternoon?”
“If I had a lawyer by my side, you would not
ask me that question, or if you did, I would not
be allowed to answer it. But I have no lawyer
here, and so I will say that I was greatly
shocked by the catastrophe which had happened
to my wife, and under the stress of my first
overpowering emotions had the impulse to hide
the fact that the victim of so dreadful a mis
chance was my w’ife. I thought that if no con
nection was found between myself and this dea l
woman, T would stand in no danger of the sus
picion which must cling to the man who can e
into the house with her. But. like most first
impulses, it was a foolish one and gave way un
der the strain of investigation. I, however, per
sisted in it as long as possible, partially because
my disposition Is an obstinate one, and partially
because I hated to acknowledge myself a fool;
hut when I saw the hat, and recognized it as an
indisputable proof of her presence in the Van
Burnam house that night, my confidence in the
attempt 1 was making broke dowm all at.once.
I could deny her shape, her hands, and even the
scar, which she might have had in common with
other women, but I could not deny her hat. Too
many persons had seen her wear it.”
His next answer, howeyer, opened up one
dark place Into which I had been peering for
some time without an enlightenment. It was
in reply to the following query:
“All this,” said the Coroner, “is very interest
ing; but what explanation have you to give for
taking your wife into your father's empty
house at an hour so late, and then leaving her
to spend the best part of the dark night alone?”
“None,” said he, "that will strike you as sen
sible and judicious. But we were not sensible
that night, neither were we judicious, or I would
not be standing here trying to explain what is
not explainable by any of the ordinary rules of
conduct. She was set upon being the first to
greet my father on his entrance into his own
home, and her first plan had been to do so In
her own proper character as my wife, but after
ward the freak took her, as I have said, to per
sonify the housekeeper whom my father had
cabled ug to have in waiting at his house—a
cablegram which had reached us too late for any
practical use, and which we had therefore ig
nored—and fearing he might come early in the
morning, before she could be on hand to make
the favorable impression she intended, ' she
wished to be left in the house that night; and l
humored her. I did not foresee the suffering
that my departure might cause her, or the fears
that were likely to spring from her lonely posi
tion in so large and empty a dwelling.”
"And why,” persisted the Coroner, edging
forward in his interest and so allowing me to
catch a glimpse of Mr. Gryce’s face as he, too,
leaned forward In his anxiety to hear every
word that fell from this remarkable witness—
“why did you speak of her fear? What reason
have you to think she suffered apprehension
after your departure?”
“Why?” echoed the witness, as if astounded
by the other’s lack of perspicacity. “Did she
not kill herself in a moment of terror and dis
couragement? Leaving her, as I did, in a con
dition of health and good spirits, can you expect
me to attribute her death to any other cause
than a sudden attack of frenzy caused by her
terror?”
“Ah!” exclaimed the Coroner, in a suspicious
tone, which no doubt voiced the feelings of
most people present, "then you think your wife
committed suicide?”
“Most certainly," replied the witness, avoid
ing but two pair of eyes in the whole crowd,
those of his father and brother.
“With a hatpin,” continued the Coroner, let
ting his hitherto scarcely suppressed irony be
come fully visible In voice and manner, "thrust
into the back of her neck at a spot young ladies
surely would have but little reason to know’ is
peculiarly fatal! Suicide! when she was found
crushed under a pile of bric-a-brac, which was
thrown down or fell upjon her hours after she
received the fatal thrust!”
“I do not know how* else she could have died.”
persisted the witness, calmly, "unless she opened
the door to some burglar. And what burglar
would kill a woman in that way. when he could
pound her with his fists? No; she was frenzied
and stabebd herself In desperation; or the thing
was done by accident, God knows how! And as
for the testimony of the experts—we all know
how easily the wisest of them can be mistaken,
even in matters of as serious import as these.
If a/1 the experts in the w’orld”—here his voice
rose* and his nostrils dilated till his aspect was
actually commanding and impressed us all like
a sudden transformation—“if all the experts in
the world were to swear that those shelves were
thrown upon her after she had lain there for
four hours dead, I would not believe them. Ap
pearances or no appearances, blood or no
blood. T here declare that she pulled that cabi
net over in her death struggle; and upon the
truth of this fact I am ready to rest my honor
as a man and my integrity as her husband.”
An uproar immediately followed, amid which
could be heard cries of “He lies!” “He’s a
fool!” The attitude taken by the witness was
so unexpected that the most callous person
present could not fail to be affected by it. But
curiosity is as potent a passion as surprise, and
In a few minutes all was still again and every
body intent to hear how the Coroner would an
swer these asseverations.
“I have heard of a blind man denying the ex
istence of light,” said the Coroner, “hut never
before of a sensible being like yourself urging
th© most untenable theories in face of such evi-
SYNOPSIS OF PRECEDING CHAPTERS.
T HE handanma raaidanra of Ril#» .Van Burnam in
(iramarry Park adjoina that of Miaa Amalia
Buttarworth. a lady of lndnprndrnt moans and
spirit, who tails tha story. At midnight, psaring through
har Miriams, Miss Buttarworth saas a rat. driva up with
a young tnan and woman, who antar tha Van Htirmuii
housa Tan minutaa later sha upas thn >mini; man laai .*
tha housn alona and walk rapidly away. hnnwing ilia
housa to ha raaant. owing to tha abaence of Nilas Van
Burnam in Europe, thia midnight incident automate.
Mias Butteawnrth
Next morning she is present whan a policeman
snmmoned hv Mrs Boppart. a scrub woman diaeose"
th# dead body of a young woman lying under a heaii
piece of fallen fumitnre.
Tteteetivp (iryee. itimmonad from Police Headqum
tera. arrives with a physietan Mias Buttarworth tails
of ths midnight tnrtdant—ths young woman a eonipamnn
seemed to resemble one of the Van Human! anna
Franklin or Howard. the latter underatood to ha
estranged from hll family, owing to an iinanitahle mar
riafa and apending the autumn with his bride in i on
naatient. It wat Franklin Van Burnam who apant Ins
nlfhls st T,ong Branah—wllo had sent Mrs, Bopprert to
make tha honae ready for hia fatv ?■ and aiater. arrl,
inf to-day A clock whleh had ' t with the eabl
nat under whirl) tha daad girl I a y I i-.ppad at threa
minutes to flee.
Another effort was not out of place, however
and the Coroner, summnnlng up tome of the
pompous severity he found useful at times,
asked the witness if his attention had been
drawn to the dead woman's hands.
He acknowledged that It had. "The physl
clan who made the autopsy urged me to look at
them, and I did; they were certainly very like
my wife’s.”
"Only like."
“I can not say that they were my wife's Do
you want me to perjure myself?"
"A man Bhould know his wife's hsnds as well
ns he knows her face."
"Very likely.”
"And you are ready to swear these were not
the hands of your wife?*'
"I am ready to swear T did not so consider
them."
"And that la all?"
"That Is all.”
The Coroner frowned and cast a fiance at the
Jury. They needed prodding now and then,
and tills Is the way lie prodded them. As soon
as thev gave signs of recognizing tha hint he
gave them, he turned back, and renewed his ex
amination in these words:
Mr Van Burnam, did your brother at your
request hand you the keys of your father's
houso on the morning of the day on which this
tragedy occurred?"
"He did "
Have you those keys now?”
I have not."
"What have you done with litem? Did yoti
return them to your brother?"
"No, I see w here your Inquiries are tending,
and I do t ot suppose you will believe toy simple
word; but 1 lost the keys on the day 1 received
them; I hat Is why "
••Well, you may continue, Mr. Van Burnam "
"I have no more to say; my sentence was not
worth completing "
Phe murmur whleh rose about him seemed
to show dissatisfaction; but he remained ltiper-
turbale, or rather like a mall who did not hear.
1 began to feel a most painful Interest tn the
Inquiry. anil dreaded, while 1 anxiously antlel-
l... tod." his further examination.
You Jest the keys; may T ask when and
where?"
"That Ido not know, tbev were missing when
I searched for them; missing from my pocket,
3 mean."
"Ah! and when did you search for
them ?"
"The next day- after I had heard—of -
of whHt had taken place In ray father's
house."
The hesitations were those of a man
weighing his reply. They told on the Jury,
as all such hesitations do; and made the
Coroner lose an atom of respect he had
hitherto shown this easy-going witness.
"And you do not know what became of
them?"
"No."
"Or into whose hands they fell?"
"No, probably Into the hands of the
wretch” ,
To the astonishment of everybody he
w on the verge of vehemence; but be
coming sensible of it, was almost shock-
""Ffnd the murderer of this poor girl."
said h«. x tth a quiet air that was more
thrilling than any display of passion, "and
ask him where he got the keys with which
he opened the door of my father's house
at midnight." '
Was this a challenge, or Just the natur
al outburst of »n Innocent man? Neither
the Jury nor the Coronet; seemed to know,
hut the former looked startled and the
latter nonplused. But Mr Gryce. who
had moved now Into view, smoothed the
head of his cane with quite S loving touch
and did not seem at this moment to feel
Us Inequalities objectionable.
■We will certainly try to follow vour advice,
the Coroner assused him. "Meanwhile we must
nsk how many rings your wife Is In the habit of
wearing?"
"Five. Two on the left hand and three on the
right.”
"Do you know these rings —
"I do."
' Belter than you know heT hands?"
"As well, sir."
Were they on her hsnds when you parted
from her In Haddam?"
"They were."
Did she always wear them”"
Almost always Indeed. I do not ever re
member seeing her take off more than one of
them."
"Which one"'
"The ruby with the diamond setting
•■Had the dead girl any rings on when you
saw her?"
"No. sir."
"Did you look to see
"I think 1 did In the
covery."
"And you saw none
"And from this you
vour wife?"
"From this and other things"
"Vet you must have sein that the woman was
In the habit of w earing rings, even If they were
not on her hands at that moment?"
“Why, sir? What should 1 know apout her
habits?"
"Is not that a ring I see now on your little
linger?"
"It is; ray seal ring which I always wear
“Will you pull It off?"
"Pull It off?
"If you please; It is a simple test l am re
quiring of you. sir."
The witness looked astonished, but pulled off
the ring at once
• Here It is," said he
"Thank you, but I do not want it. I merely
want you to look at your finger "
The‘witness complied, ev idently more non
plused than disturbed by this command.
"Do you see any difference between that fin
aer and the one next it?”
"Yes; there Is a mark about my little Anger
showing where the ring has pressed '
"Very good: there were such murks on the
fingers of the dead girl. who. as you say, hail mi
rings on I saw them, and perhaps you did
yourself.”
“I did not; I did not look closely enough
"They were on the little finger of tile rig I
hand, on the marriage finger of the let- and on
the forefinger of the same. On which fingers
did your wife wear ring-?”
"On those same fingers, sir; hut 1 will i >i in
cept till* fact as proving her identity with the
dy is clothfd in a now, bl
nt - lying crushed under
ipvealing hut one prick f
tn Van Burnam arrives »
ystery in their muttered
« Butterworth also see* rr
Hoppert. the scrub wofin
Hut ter worth
house. Kroi
-.f the dead *ir
t»h#* sees Mown
Khastlv white.
Tho dead woman's features be
recognition and her clothing being; i
Houard denies that nh« wan his wife,
finds the head of the broken hntfi
victim was stabbed to (hath. De
another bat in the house much in
iff crushed out of
w and unfamiliar.
Mias Hut ter-worth
i with which the
< tive Gryce finds
expensive than
the one worn by the murdered woman. At the inquest
the landlady of the Howard Van iiuinaius at Hnddani
(•onn., testifies that the young wife left alone for New
York, in on attempt to win tne favor of her father in
law fin his arrivnl from Kurope.
Department store employees Identify the xmw jrr>wn
and hat as those delivered to a rnvaterioua counle, ‘‘Mr.
and Mrs. Pope,’’ at a Broadway note). Howard resists
all attempts to make him identify tliv* body as his wife's.
deceased. Most women do weir rings, nnd on
those very finder?.”
The Coroner was nettled, but ho was not dis
couraged. He exchanged looks with !Vlr. Gryce,
hut nothin*? further passed between them and
we were left to conjecture what this Interchange
of glances meant.
The witness, who did not f*eem to be affected
either by the character of thin examination or
by the conjectures to which it gave rise, pre
served his sang-froid, and eyed the Coroner as
he might any other questioner, with suitable re
apect, but with no fear and but little impatience.
Nnd yet he must have known the horrible sus
picion darkening the minds of many people
present, and suspected, even if against his will,
that this examination, significant op it was, was
tout the forerunner of another and yet more
serious one.
“You are very determined.” remarked the
Coroner in beginning again, “not to accept the
very substantial proofs presented you of the
Identity between the object of this inquiry and
your missing wife. But we are not yet ready to
give up the struggle,*and ho I must ask if you
have heard the description given by Miss Fer
guson of the manner in which your wife was
dressed on leaving Haddam?”
• I have.”
“Was it a correct
account? Did she
wear a black and
w’hite plaid silk and
a hat trimmed with
various colored rib
bons and flowers?”
“Who did."
“Do you remem
ber the hat? Were
you with her when
she bought it, or
did you ever have
was killed there was my wife.” And he started
away with a wild air toward the door.
Where arc you going?” asked the Coroner,
quietly, while an officer stepped softly before
him. and his brother compassionately drew him
back by the arm.
I am going to take her from that horrible
place; she is my wife. Father, you would not
wish her to remain in that spot for another
moment, would you, while we have a house we
call our own?”
Mr. Van Burnam the senior, who had shrunk
ns far from sight as possible through these
painful demonstrations, rose up at these words
from his agonized son, and making him an en
couraging gesture, wa'ked hastily out of tlie*
r< »m, seeing which, the young man became
• Mruer, and though he did not cease to shudder,
tried To restrain hi.- first grief, which to those
who looked closely at him was evidently very
sincere.
"\ would not believe It was she,” he cried, in
total disregard of the presence he was in, “I
would not believe it; but now ” A certain
pitiful gesture finished the sentence, and neither
Coroner nor Jury seemed to know Just how to
proceed, the conduct of the young man being
so markedly different from what they had ex
pected. After a short pause, painful enough to
all concerned, the Coroner, perceiving that very
little could be done with the witness under thn
circumstances, adjourned the sitting till after
noon.
CHAPTER XII.
tier ions A <1 m ission.
1 WENT at once to a restaurant. I ate be-
* cause It Wiis time to eat and because any
occupation was welcome that would pass away
the hours of waiting I was troubled, and 1
did not know what to make of myself. I was
no friend of the Van Burnams; I did not like
them, and certainly had never approved of
any Of them; but Mr Franklin, and yet 1
found myself altogether disturbed over the
morning's developments, Howard’s emotion
having appealed to me in spite of my preju
dices. l could not but think ill of him, his
Yet he did not fail in a decent show of respect;
perhaps because he did feel some sympathy for
the witness* unhappy father and brother.
“You then acknowledge the victim to have
been your wife?”
“I do.”
“It is a point gained, and I compliment the
jury upon it. We can now proceed to settle, if
possible, the Identity of the person who accom
panied Mrs. Van Burnam into your father's
house."
“Walt,” cried Mr. Van Burnam, with a
-orange air. “1 acknowledge I was that person. - ’
it was coolly, almost fiercely said, but it was
an admission that well-night created a hubbub
Even the Coroner seemed moved, and cast a
glance at Mr. Gryce. which showed his surprise
to be greater than his discretion.
“You acknowledge,” he began but thp wit
ness did not let him finish.
“I acknowledge that I was the person who
accompanied her into that empty house; but 1
do not acknowledge that I killed her She was
alive and well when I left her, difficult as
it is for me to prove it. It wu the realizatfon
of this difficulty w’hich made me perjure myself
this morning.”
“So,” murmured the Coroner, with another
glance at Mr. Gryce, “you acknowledge that
, you perjured yourself. Will the room be quiet!’’
But the lull came slowly. The contrast be
tween the appearance of this elegant young
man and the significant admissions he had just
made (admissions which to three-quarters of
the persons theTe meant more, much more than
he acknowledged), was certainly such as to
provoke interest of the deepest kind. I felt like
giving rein to my own feelings, and was not
surprised at the patience showm by the Coroner.
But order was restored at last, and the inquiry-
proceeded.
“We are then to consider the testimony given
by you this morning as null and void?"
“Yes, so far as it contradicts what I have just
stated.”
“Ah, then you will, no doubt, be willing to give
us your evidence again?”
Where ure you goingnaked the Coroner,’quietly, while an officer stepped softly before him, and his brother compas
sionately drew him back by the arm.
your attention drawn to it in any particular
way?”
1 remember the hat.”
is this it, Mr. Van Burnam?”
! was watching Howard, and the start he
gave was so pronounced and the emotion he dis
played was in such violent contrast to the self-
possession he had maintained up to this point,
that 1 was held spellbound by the shock I re
ceived. and forebore to look at the object which
the Coroner had suddenly held up for inspec
tion. But when I did turn my head toward it. I
recognized at once the multi-colored hat which
Mr. Gryce had brought in from the third room
of Mr Van Burnam’s house on the evening 1
was there, and realized almost in the same
breath that, great as tills mystery had hitherto
seemed, it was likely to prove yet greater be
fore its proper elucidation was arrived at.
“Was that found in my father’s house? Where
where was that hat found?” stammered the
witness, so far forgetting himself as to point
toward the object in question.
“It was found by Mrs. Gryce in a closet olf
vour father’s dining room, a short time after the
dead girl was carried out.’’
“I don’t believe it.” vociferated the young
ma^n, paling with something more than anger,
and shaking from head to foot.
Shall l put Mr. Gryce on his oath again?”
asked the Coroner, mildly.
The young man stared; evidently these words
failed to reach his understanding
“16 it your wife’s lmt?” persisted the Cor
oner with very little mercy. “Do you recognize
it for tlie one in which she left Haddam?”
"Would to God I did not!” burst in vehement
distress from the witness who at the next mo
ment broke down altogether anti looked about
for the support of his brother’s arm.
Franklin came forward, and tin* two brothers
stood for a moment in the face of the whole
surging mass of curiosity-mongers before them,
arm in arm. hut with very different expressions
•m their two proud faces. Howard was the first
to speak.
“Tf thut was found in the parlor of my fa
ther's house,” he cried, “then tho woman who
conduct not being such as 1 could honestly
commend. But 1 found myself more ready to
listen to the involuntary pleadings of my own
heart in his behalf than I had been prior to his
testimony and its somewhat startling termina
tion.
But they were not through with him yet. and
ifter the longest three hours l ever passed, we
were again convened before the Coroner.
I saw Howard as soon as anybody did. He
came in. arm. in arm, as before, with his faith
ful brother, and sat down In a retired corner
behind tin* Coroner. But he was sobn called
forward.
His face, when the light fell on it. was start
ling \to most of us. It was as much changed
is if years, instead of hours, lmd elapsed since
last we saw it No longer reckless in its ex
pression. nor easy, nor politely patient, it
showed in its every lineament that he had not
<*nly passed through a hurricane of passion, but
that the bitterness, which had been its worst
feature, had not. passed with the storm, but had
settled into the core of his nature, disturbing its
equilibrium forever.
lie had been iron in his impassibility at that
time, but he was steel now, and steel which had
been through the fiercest of fires.
The opening question of the Coroner showed
by what experience these fires had been kindled.
“Mr. Van Burnam. I have been told that vou
have visited the morgue in the interim which
has elapsed since 1 last questioned you. Is that
true?”
"It is.”
“Did you. in the opportunity thus afforded,
examine the remains of the woman whose
death we are investigating attentively enough
to enable you to say now w hether they are those
of your missing wife?"
I have. The body is that of Louise Van Bur
nam; 1 t rave your pardon and that of the jury
for my former obstinacy in refusing to recog
nize it. 1 thought myself fully justified in the
stand I took. I see now that I was not.”
The Coroner made no answer. There was
no sympathy between him and this young man.
“Certainly, if you will be so kind as to ques
tion me.”
“Very well; where did your wife and yourself
first meet after your arrival in New York?”
“Ip the street near my office. She was com
ing to see me. but I prevailed upon her to go
uptown.”
“What time was this?”
“After 10 and before noon. I can not give the
exact'hour.”
“And where did you go?”
“To a hotel on Broadway; you have already
iteard of our visit there.”
“You are. then, the Mr. James Pope, whose
wife registered in the books of the Hotel D
on the 17th of this mont**?”
“I have said so.”
“And may I ask for wnat purpose you used
this disguise, and allowed your w’ife to sign a
wrong name?”
“To satisfy a freak. She considered it the
best way of covering up a scheme she had
formed; which was to awaken the interest of
my father under the name and appearance of
a stranger, and not to inform him who she was
till he had given some evidence of partiality
for her.”
“Ah. but for such an end was It necessary
for her to assume a strange name before she
saw your father, and for you both to conduct
'ourselves in the mysterious way you did all
that day and evening'”*
“I do not know. She thought so. and I hu
mored her. I was tired of working against her,
and was willing she should have her own way
for a time.”
“.And for this reason you let her fit herself
out with clothes down to her very undergar
ments?”
“Yes: strange as it may seem. 1 was just
such a fool. 1 had entered into her scheme, and
the means she took to change' her personality
only amused me. She wished to present herself
to my father as a girl obliged to work for her
living, and was too slire wd to excite suspicior
in the minds of any of the family by any undue
luxury In her apparel. At least that was the