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THE FILIGREE
BALL: BEING A FULL
AND TRUE ACCOUNT OF
THE SOLUTION OF THE
MYSTERY CONCERNING
THE JEFFREY-MOORE
AFFAIR
BY
ANNA KATHERINE GREEN
AUTHOR OF
THE LEAVENWORTH CASE
ILLUSTRATED BY C. M. RELYEA
THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY
PUBLISHERS INDIANAPOLIS


COPYRIGHT, 1903
THE BOBBS-MEBRILL COMPANY
MARCH
UNIVERSITY
LIBRARY
PRESS OK
BRAUNWORTH & CO.
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS
BROOKLYN, N. Y.


CONTENTS
BOOK I
CHAPTER PAGB
I "THE MOORE HOUSE 1" 1
II I ENTER g
III I REMAIN 26
IV SIGNED, VERONICA 47
V MASTER AND DOG 61
VI GOSSIP 72
VII SLY WORK 91
VIII SLYER WORK 108
IX JINNY 115
X FRANCIS JEFFREY 120
BOOK II
XI DETAILS - 143
XII THRUST AND PARRY 171
XIII CHIEFLY THRUST 185
XIV "LET US HAVE TALLMAN!" 197
XV WHITE BOW AND PINK 204
XVI AN EGOTIST OF THE FIRST WATER 23J
XVII A FRESH START 243
XVIII IN THE GRASS 262.


CONTENTS
PAGE
275
BOOK III
CHAPTER
XIX IN TAMPA
XX “THE COLONEL'S OWN"
XXI THE HEART OF THE PUZZLE
XXII A THREAD IN HAND
282
312
325
XXIII WORDS IN THE NIGHT
342
368
377
XXIV TANTALIZING TACTICS
XXV “WHO WILL TELL THE MANI”
XXVI RUDGE
XXVII “YOU HAVE COME!”
402
(14


BOOK I
THE FORBIDDEN ROOM





THE FILIGREE BALL
"THE MOORE HOUSE? ARE YOU SPEAKING OF
THE MOORE HOUSE?"
For a detective whose talents had not been
recognized at headquarters, I possessed an ambi-
tion which, fortunately for my standing with the
lieutenant of the precinct, had not yet been ex-
pressed in words. Though I had small reason for
expecting great things of myself, I had always
cherished the hope that' if a big case came my way
I should be found able to do something with it—
something more, that is, than I had seen accom-
plished by the police of the District of Columbia
since I had had the honor of being one of their
number. Therefore, when I found myself plunged,
almost without my own volition, into the Jeffrey-
Moore affair, I believed that the opportunity had
come whereby I might distinguish myself.
It had complications, this Jeffrey-Moore affair;
greater ones than the public ever knew, keen as
1


2 THE FILIGREE BALL
the interest in it ran both in and out of Washing-
ton.
This is why I propose to tell the story of this
great tragedy from my own standpoint, even if in
so doing I risk the charge of attempting to exploit
my own connection with this celebrated case. In
its course I encountered as many disappointments
as triumphs, and brought out of the affair a heart
as sore as it was satisfied; for I am a lover of wom-
en and—
But I am keeping you from the story itself.
I was at the station-house the night Uncle David
came in. He was always called Uncle David, even
by the urchins who followed him in the street; so
I am showing him no disrespect, gentleman though
he is, by giving him a title which as completely
characterized him in those days, as did his moody
ways, his quaint attire and the persistence with
which he kept at his side his great mastiff, Rudge.
I had long since heard of the old gentleman as
one of the most interesting residents of the precinct.
I had even seen him more than once on the ave-
nue, but I had never before been brought face to
face with him, and consequently had much too
superficial a knowledge of his countenance to de-
termine offhand whether the uneasy light in his
small gray eyes was natural to them, or simply


"THE MOORE HOUSE?" 3
the result of present excitement. But when he be-
gan to talk I detected an unmistakable tremor in
his tones, and decided that he was in a state of sup-
pressed agitation; though he appeared to have
nothing more alarming to impart than the fact
that he had seen a light burning in some house
presumably empty.
It was all so trivial that I gave him but scant
attention till he let a name fall which caused me
to prick up my ears and even to put in a word.
"The Moore house," he had said.
"The Moore house?" I repeated in amazement.
"Are you speaking of the Moore house?"
A thousand recollections came with the name.
"What other?" he grumbled, directing toward
me a look as keen as it was impatient. "Do you
think that I would bother myself long about a
house I had no interest in, or drag Rudge from
his warm rug to save some ungrateful neighbor
from a possible burglary? No, it is my house
which some rogue has chosen to enter. That is,"
he suavely corrected, as he saw surprise in every
eye, "the house which the law will give me, if any-
thing ever happens to that chit of a girl whom
my brother left behind him."
Growling some words at the dog, who showed a
decided inclination to lie down where he was, the


4 THE FILIGREE BALL
old man made for the door and in another moment
would have been in the street, if I had not stepped
after him.
"You are a Moore and live in or near that old
house?" I asked.
The surprise with which he met this question
daunted me a little.
"How long have you been in Washington, I
should like to ask?" was his acrid retort.
"Oh, some five months."
His good nature, or what passed for such in this
irascible old man, returned in an instant; and he
curtly but not unkindly remarked:
"You haven't learned much in that time."
Then, with a nod more ceremonious than many an-
other man's bow, he added, with sudden dignity:
"I am of the elder branch and live in the cottage
fronting the old place. I am the only resident on
the block. When you have lived here longer you
will know why that especial neighborhood is not a
favorite one with those who can not boast of the
Moore blood. For the present, let us attribute the
bad name that it holds to—malaria." And with
a significant hitch of his lean shoulders which set
in undulating motion every fold of the old-fash-
ioned cloak he wore, he started again for the door.
But my curiosity was by this time roused to


"THE MOORE HOUSE?" 5
fever heat. I knew more about this house than he
gave me credit for. No one who had read the
papers of late, much less a man connected with the
police, could help being well informed in all the
details of its remarkable history. What I had
failed to know was his close relationship to the
family whose name for the last two weeks had been
in every mouth.
"Wait!" I called out. "You say that you live
opposite the Moore house. You can then tell
me—"
But he had no mind to stop for any gossip.
"It was all in the papers," he called back.
"Read them. But first be sure to find out who has
struck a light in the house that we all know has not
even a caretaker in it."
It was good advice. My duty and my curiosity
both led me to follow it.
Perhaps you have heard of the distinguishing
feature of this house; if so, you do not need my
explanations. But if, for any reason, you are ig-
norant of the facts which within a very short time
have set a final seal of horror upon this old, his-
toric dwelling, then you will be glad to read
what has made and will continue to make the
Moore house in Washington one to be pointed at
in daylight and shunned after dark, not only by


6 THE FILIGREE BALL
superstitious colored folk, but by all who are sus-
ceptible to the most ordinary emotions of fear and
dread.
It was standing when Washington was a village.
It antedates the Capitol and the White House.
Built by a man of wealth, it bears to this day the
impress of the large ideas and quiet elegance of
colonial times; but the shadow which speedily fell
across it made it a marked place even in those
early days. While it has always escaped the
hackneyed epithet of "haunted," families that have
moved in have as quickly moved out, giving as their
excuse that no happiness was to be found there
and that sleep was impossible under its roof. That
there was some reason for this lack of rest within
walls which were not without their tragic reminis-
cences, all must acknowledge. Death had often oc-
curred there, and while this fact can be stated in
regard to most old houses, it is not often that one
can say, as in this case, that it was invariably sud-
den and invariably of one character. A lifeless
man, lying outstretched on a certain hearthstone,
might be found once in a house and awaken no
special comment; but when this same discovery has
been made twice, if not thrice, during the history
of a single dwelling, one might surely be pardoned
a distrust of its seemingly home-like appointments,
and discern in its slowly darkening walls the pres-


"THE MOORE HOUSE?" 7
ence of an evil which if left to itself might perish
in the natural decay of the place, but which, if met
and challenged, might strike again and make an-
other blot on its thrice-crimsoned hearthstone.
But these are old fables which I should hardly
presume to mention, had it not been for the recent
occurrence which has recalled them to all men's
minds and given to this long empty and slowly
crumbling building an importance which has
spread its fame from one end of the country to the
other. I refer to the tragedy attending the wed-
ding lately celebrated there.
Veronica Moore, rich, pretty and wilful, had
long cherished a strange liking for this frowning
old home of her ancestors, and, at the most critical
time of her life, conceived the idea of proving to
herself and to society at large that no real ban lay
upon it save in the imagination of the superstitious.
So, being about to marry the choice of her young
heart, she caused this house to be opened for the
wedding ceremony; with what result, you know.
Though the occasion was a joyous one and accom-
panied by all that could give cheer to such a func-
tion, it had not escaped the old-time shadow. One
of the guests straying into the room of ancient
and unhallowed memory, the one room which had
not been thrown open to the crowd, had been
found within five minutes of the ceremony lying


8 THE FILIGREE BALL
on its dolorous hearthstone, dead; and though the
bride was spared a knowledge of the dreadful fact
till the holy words were said, a panic had seized the
guests and emptied the house as suddenly and com-
pletely as though the plague had been discovered
there.
This is why I hastened to follow Uncle David
when he told me that all was not right in this
house of tragic memories.


II
I ENTER
Though past seventy, Uncle David was a brisk
walker, and on this night in particular he sped
along so fast that he was half-way down H Street
by the time I had turned the corner at New Hamp-
shire Avenue.
His gaunt but not ungraceful figure, merged in
that of the dog trotting closely at his heels, was the
only moving object in the dreary vista of this the
most desolate block in Washington. As I neared
the building, I was so impressed by the surround-
ing stillness that I was ready to vow that the shad-
ows were denser here than elsewhere and that the
few gas lamps, which flickered at intervals down
the street, shone with a more feeble ray than in
any other equal length of street in Washington.
Meanwhile, the shadow of Uncle David had van-
ished from the pavement. He had paused beside
a fence which, hung with vines, surrounded and
nearly hid from sight the little cottage he had men-
tioned as the only house on the block with the ex-
9


10 THE FILIGREE BALL
ception of the great Moore place; in other words,
his own home.
As I came abreast of him I heard him muttering,
not to his dog as was his custom, but to himself.
In fact, the dog was not to be seen, and this deser-
tion on the part of his constant companion seemed
to add to his disturbance and affect him beyond
all reason. I could distinguish these words
amongst the many he directed toward the unseen
animal:
"You're a knowing one, too knowing! You see
that loosened shutter over the way as plainly as I
do; but you're a coward to slink away from it.
I don't. I face the thing, and what's more, I'll
show you yet what I think of a dog that can't stand
his ground and help his old master out with some
show of courage. Creaks, does it? Well, let it
creak! I don't mind its creaking, glad as I should
be to know whose hand—Halloo! You've come,
have you?" This to me. I had just stepped up to
him.
"Yes, I've come. Now what is the matter with
the Moore house?"
He must have expected the question, yet his an-
swer was a long time coming. His voice, too,
sounded strained, and was pitched quite too high
to be natural. But he evidently did not expect
me to show surprise at his manner.


I ENTER 11
"Look at that window over there!" he cried at
last. "That one with the slightly open shutter!
Watch and you will see that shutter move. There!
it creaked; didn't you hear it?"
A growl—it was more like a moan—came from
the porch behind us. Instantly the old gentleman
turned and with a gesture as fierce as it was in-
stinctive, shouted out:
"Be still there! If you haven't the courage to
face a blowing shutter, keep your jaws shut and
don't let every fellow who happens along know
what a fool you are. I declare," he maundered
on, half to himself and half to me, "that dog is
getting old. He can't be trusted any more. He
forsakes his master just when—" The rest was
lost in his throat which rattled with something
more than impatient anger.
Meanwhile I had been attentively scrutinizing
the house thus pointedly brought to my notice.
I had seen it many times before, but, as it hap-
pened, had never stopped to look at it when the
huge trees surrounding it were shrouded in dark-
ness. The black hollow of its disused portal looked
out from shadows which acquired some of their
somberness from the tragic memories connected
with its empty void.
Its aspect was scarcely reassuring. Not that
superstition lent its terrors to the lonely scene, but


12 THE FILIGREE BALL
that through the blank panes of the window, alter-
nately appearing and disappearing from view as
the shutter pointed out by Uncle David blew to
and fro in the wind, I saw, or was persuaded that
I saw, a beam of light which argued an unknown
presence within walls which had so lately been de-
clared unfit for any man's habitation.
"You are right," I now remarked to the uneasy
figure at my side. "Some one is prowling through
the house yonder. Can it possibly be Mrs. Jeffrey
or her husband?"
"At night and with no gas in the house?
Hardly."
The words were natural, but the voice was not.
Neither was his manner quite suited to the occa-
sion. Giving him another sly glance, and marking
how uneasily he edged away from me in the dark-
ness, I cried out more cheerily than he possibly
expected:
"I will summon another officer and we three
will just slip across and investigate."
"Not I!" was his violent rejoinder, as he swung
open a gate concealed in the vines behind him.
"The Jeffreys would resent my intrusion if they
ever happened to hear of it."
"Indeed!" I laughed, sounding my whistle;
then, soberly enough, for I was more than a little
struck by the oddity of his behavior and thought


14 THE FILIGREE BALL
volume, causing Rudge's expression of pain or
pleasure to increase also. The result can be im-
agined. As I listened to the intolerable howls of
the dog cutting clean through the exquisite har-
monies of his master, I wondered if the shadows
cast by the frowning structure of the great Moore
house were alone to blame for Uncle David's lack
of neighbors.
Meantime, Hibbard, who was the first to hear
my signal, came running down the block. As he
joined me, the light, or what we chose to call a
light, appeared again in the window toward which
my attention had been directed.
"Some one's in the Moore house!" I declared, in
as matter-of-fact tones as I could command.
Hibbard is a big fellow, the biggest fellow on
the force, and so far as my own experience with
him had gone, as stolid and imperturbable as the
best of us. But after a quick glance at the tower-
ing walls of the lonely building, he showed decided
embarrassment and seemed in no haste to cross the
street.
With difficulty I concealed my disgust.
"Come," I cried, stepping down from the curb,
"let's go over and investigate. The property is
valuable, the furnishings handsome, and there is
no end of costly books on the library shelves. You
have matches and a revolver?"


I ENTER 15
He nodded, quietly showing me first the one,
then the other; then with a sheepish air which he
endeavored to carry off with a laugh, he cried:
"Have you use for 'em? If so, I'm quite willing
to part with 'em for a half-hour."
I was more than amazed at this evidence of weak-
ness in one I had always considered as tough and
impenetrable as flint rock. Thrusting back the
hand with which he had half drawn into view the
weapon I had mentioned, I put on my sternest
air and led the way across the street. As I did so,
I tossed back the words:
"We may come upon a gang. You do not wish
me to face some half-dozen men alone?"
"You won't find any half-dozen men there,"
was his muttered reply. Nevertheless he followed
me, though with less spirit than I liked, considering
that my own manner was in a measure assumed
and that I was not without sympathy—well, let me
say, for a dog who preferred howling a dismal ac-
companiment to his master's music, to keeping
open watch over a neighborhood dominated by the
unhallowed structure I now propose to enter.
The house is too well known for me to attempt
a minute description of it. The illustrations which
have appeared in all the papers have already ac-
quainted the general public with its simple facade
and rows upon rows of shuttered windows. Even


16 THE FILIGREE BALL
the great square porch with its bench for negro
attendants has been photographed for the million.
Those who have seen the picture in which the
wedding-guests are shown flying from its yawning
doorway, will not be especially interested in the
quiet, almost solemn aspect it presented as I passed
up the low steps and laid my hand upon the knob
of the old-fashioned front door.
Not that I expected to win an entrance thereby,
but because it is my nature to approach everything
in a common-sense way. Conceive then my aston-
ishment when at the first touch the door yielded.
It was not even latched.
"So! so!" thought I. "This is no fool's job;
some one is in the house."
I had provided myself with an ordinary pocket-
lantern, and, when I had convinced Hibbard that I
fully meant to enter the house and discover for my-
self who had taken advantage of the popular
prejudice against it to make a secret refuge or
rendezvous of its decayed old rooms, I took out this
lantern and held it in readiness.
"We may strike a hornets' nest," I explained to
Hibbard, whose feet seemed very heavy even for a
man of his size. "But I'm going in and so are you.
Only, let me suggest that we first take off our
shoes. We can hide them in these bushes."
"I always catch cold when I walk barefooted,"


I ENTER 17
mumbled my brave companion; but receiving no
reply he drew off his shoes and dropped them be-
side mine in the cluster of stark bushes which figure
so prominently in the illustrations that I have just
mentioned. Then he todk out his revolver, and
cocking it, stood waiting, while I gave a cautious
push to the door.
Darkness! silence!
Rather had I confronted a light and heard some
noise, even if it had been the ominous click to which
we are so well accustomed. Hibbard seemed to
share my feelings, though from an entirely differ-
ent cause.
"Pistols and lanterns are no good here," he
grumbled. "What we want at this blessed minute
is a priest with a sprinkling of holy water; and I
for one—"
He was actually sliding off.
With a smothered oath I drew him back.
"See here!" I cried, "you're not a babe in arms.
Come on or— Well, what now?"
He had clenched my arm and was pointing to
the door which was slowly swaying to behind us.
"Notice that," he whispered. "No key in the
lock! Men use keys but—"
My patience could stand no more. With a shake
I rid myself of his clutch, muttering:
"There, go! You're too much of a fool for me.


18 THE FILIGREE BALL
I'm in for it alone." And in proof of my determi-
nation, I turned the slide of the lantern and flashed
the light through the house.
The effect was ghostly; but while the fellow at
my side breathed hard he did not take advantage
of my words to make his escape, as I half expected
him to. Perhaps, like myself, he was fascinated
by the dreary spectacle of long shadowy walls and
an equally shadowy staircase emerging from a
darkness which a minute before had seemed im-
penetrable. Perhaps he was simply ashamed. At
all events he stood his ground, scrutinizing with
rolling eyes that portion of the hall where two col-
umns, with gilded Corinthian capitals, marked the
door of the room which no man entered without
purpose or passed without dread. Doubtless he
was thinking of that which had so frequently been
carried out between those columns. I know that I
was; and when, in the sudden draft made by the
open door, some open draperies hanging near those
columns blew out with a sudden swoop and shiver, I
was not at all astonished to see him lose what little
courage had remained in him. The truth is, I was
startled myself, but I was able to hide the fact and
to whisper back to him, fiercely:
"Don't be an idiot. That curtain hides nothing
worse than some sneaking political refugee or a
gang of counterfeiters."


I ENTER 19
"Maybe. I'd just like to put my hand on Up-
son and—"
"Hush!"
I had just heard something.
For a moment we stood breathless, but as the
sound was not repeated I concluded that it was the
creaking of that far-away shutter. Certainly there
was nothing moving near us.
"Shall we go upstairs?" whispered Hibbard.
"Not till we have made sure that all is right
down here."
A door stood slightly ajar on our left.
Pushing it open, we looked in. A well furnished
parlor was before us.
"Here's where the wedding took place," re-
marked Hibbard, straining his head over my shoul-
der.
There were signs of this wedding on every
side. Walls and ceilings had been hung with gar-
lands, and these still clung to the mantelpiece and
over and around the various doorways. Torn-off
branches and the remnants of old bouquets,
dropped from the hands of flying guests, littered
the carpet, adding to the general confusion of
overturned chairs and tables. Everywhere were
evidences of the haste with which the place had
been vacated as well as the superstitious dread
which had prevented it being re-entered for the


20 THE FILIGREE BALL
commonplace purpose of cleaning. Even the
piano had not been shut, and under it lay some
scattered sheets of music which had been left
where they fell, to the probable loss of some poor
musician. The clock occupying the center of the
mantelpiece alone gave evidence of life. It had
been wound for the wedding and had not yet run
down. Its tick-tick came faint enough, however,
through the darkness, as if it too had lost heart
and would soon lapse into the deadly quiet of its
ghostly surroundings.
"It's—it's funeral-like," chattered Hibbard.
He was right; I felt as if I were shutting the lid
of a coffin when I finally closed the door.
Our next steps took us into the rear where we
found little to detain us, and then, with a certain
dread fully justified by the event, we made for the
door defined by the two Corinthian columns.
It was ajar like the rest, and, call me coward or
call me fool—I have called Hibbard both, you will
remember—I found that it cost me an effort to lay
my hand on its mahogany panels. Danger, if dan-
ger there was, lurked here; and while I had never
known myself to quail before any ordinary antago-
nist, I, like others of my kind, have no especial
fondness for unseen and mysterious perils.
Hibbard, who up to this point had followed me
almost too closely, now accorded me all the room


I ENTER 21
that was necessary. It was with a sense of en-
tering alone upon the scene that I finally thrust
wide the door and crossed the threshold of this re-
doubtable room where, but two short weeks before,
a fresh victim had been added to the list of those
who had by some unheard-of, unimaginable means
found their death within its recesses.
My first glance showed me little save the ponder-
ous outlines of an old settle, which jutted from the
corner of the fireplace half way out into the room.
As it was seemingly from this seat that the men,
who at various times had been found lying here,
had fallen to their doom, a thrill passed over me
as I noted its unwieldy bulk and the deep shadow
it threw on the ancient and dishonored hearthstone.
To escape the ghastly memories it evoked and also
to satisfy myself that the room was really as empty
as it seemed, I took another step forward. This
caused the light from the lantern I carried to
spread beyond the point on which it had hitherto
been so effectively concentrated; but the result was
to emphasize rather than detract from the extreme
desolation of the great room. The settle was a fix-
ture, as I afterwards found, and was almost the
only article of furniture to be seen on the wide ex-
panse of uncarpeted floor. There was a table or
two in hiding somewhere amid the shadows at the
other end from where I stood, and possibly some


22 THE FILIGREE BALL
kind of stool or settee; but the general impression
made upon me was that of a completely dismantled
place given over to moth and rust.
I do not include the walls. They were not bare
like the floor, but covered with books from floor to
ceiling. These books were not the books of to-day;
they had stood so long in their places unnoted
and untouched, that they had acquired the color
of fungus, and smelt— Well, there is no use add-
ing to the picture. Every one knows the spirit of
sickening desolation pervading rooms which have
been shut up for an indefinite length of time from
air and sunshine.
The elegance of the heavily stuccoed ceiling,
admitted to be one of the finest specimens of its
kind in Washington, as well as the richness of the
carvings ornamenting the mantel of Italian mar-
ble rising above the accursed hearthstone, only
served to make more evident the extreme neg-
lect into which the rest of the room had sunk.
Being anything but anxious to subject myself
further to its unhappy influence and quite con-
vinced that the place was indeed as empty as it
looked, I turned to leave, when my eyes fell upon
something so unexpected and so extraordinary,
seen as it was under the influence of the old trage-
dies with which my mind was necessarily full, that
I paused, balked in my advance, and well-nigh un-


I ENTER 23
certain whether I looked upon a real thing or on
some strange and terrible fantasy of my aroused
imagination.
A form lay before me, outstretched on that por-
tion of the floor which had hitherto been hidden
from me by the half-open door—a woman's form,
which even in that first casual look impressed itself
upon me as one of aerial delicacy and extreme re-
finement; and this form lay as only the dead he;
the dead! And I had been looking at the hearth-
stone for just such a picture! No, not just such
a picture, for this woman lay face uppermost, and,
on the floor beside her was blood—
A hand had plucked my sleeve. It was Hib-
bard's. Startled by my immobility and silence, he
had stepped in with quaking members, expecting he
hardly knew what. But no sooner did his eyes fall
on the prostrate form which held me spellbound,
than an unforeseen change took place in him.
What had unnerved me, restored him to full
self-possession. Death in this shape was familiar
to him. He had no fear of blood. He did not
show surprise at encountering it, but only at the
effect it appeared to produce on me.
"Shot!" was his laconic comment as he bent over
the prostrate body. "Shot through the heart!
She must have died before she fell."
Shot!


M THE FILIGREE BALL
That was a new experience for this room. No
wound had ever before disfigured those who had
fallen here, nor had any of the previous victims
been found lying on any other spot than the one
over which that huge settle kept guard. As these
thoughts crossed my mind, I instinctively glanced
again toward the fireplace for what I almost re-
fused to believe lay outstretched at my feet.
When nothing more appeared there than that old
seat of sinister memory, I experienced a thrill
which poorly prepared me for the cry which I now
heard raised by Hibbard.
"Look here! What do you make of this?"
He was pointing to what, upon closer inspection,
proved to be a strip of white satin ribbon running
from one of the delicate wrists of the girl before us
to the handle of a pistol which had fallen not far
away from her side. "It looks as if the pistol was
attached to her. That is something new in my
experience. What do you think it means?"
Alas! there was but one thing it could mean. The
shot to which she had succumbed had been delivered
by herself. This fair and delicate creature was a
suicide.
But suicide in this place! How could we account
for that? Had the story of this room's ill-acquired
fame acted hypnotically on her, or had she stum-
bled upon the open door in front and been glad of


I ENTER
25
any refuge where her misery might find a solitary
termination? Closely scanning her upturned face,
I sought an answer to this question, and while thus
seeking received a fresh shock which I did not
hesitate to communicate to my now none-too-sensi-
tive companion.
“Look at these features,” I cried. “I seem to
know them, do you?”
He growled out a dissent, but stooped at my
bidding and gave the pitiful young face a pro-
longed stare. When he looked up again it was with
a puzzled contraction of his eyebrows.
"I've certainly seen it somewhere,” he hesitating-
ly admitted, edging slowly away toward the door.
"Perhaps in the papers. Isn't she like ?”
“Like!” I interrupted, “it is Veronica Moore
herself; the owner of this house and she who was
married here two weeks since to Mr. Jeffrey. Evi-
dently her reason was unseated by the tragedy
which threw so deep a gloom over her wedding."


Ill
I REMAIN
Not for an instant did I doubt the correctness of
this identification. All the pictures I had seen of
this well-known society belle had been marked by
an individuality of expression which fixed her face
in the memory and which I now saw repeated in the
lifeless features before me.
Greatly startled by the discovery, but quite con-
vinced that this was but the dreadful sequel of an
already sufficiently dark tragedy, I proceeded to
take such steps as are common in these cases.
Having sent the too-willing Hibbard to notify
headquarters, I was on the point of making a mem-
orandum of such details as seemed important, when
my lantern suddenly went out, leaving me in total
darkness.
This was far from pleasant, but the effect it pro-
duced upon my mind was not without its result.
For no sooner did I find myself alone and in the
unrelieved darkness of this grave-like room, than
I became convinced that no woman, however fren-
26


I REMAIN 27
zied, would make her plunge into an unknown
existence from the midst of a darkness only too
suggestive of the tomb to which she was hastening.
It was not in nature, not in woman's nature, at all
events. Either she had committed the final act be-
fore such daylight as could filter through the shut-
ters of this closed-up room had quite disappeared,
—an hypothesis instantly destroyed by the
warmth which still lingered in certain portions of
her body,—or else the light which had been burn-
ing when she pulled the fatal trigger had since
been carried elsewhere or extinguished.
Recalling the uncertain gleams which we had
seen flashing from one of the upper windows, I was
inclined to give some credence to the former theory,
but was disposed to be fair to both. So after re-
lighting my lamp, I turned on one of the gas cocks
of the massive chandelier over my head and applied
a match. The result was just what I anticipated;
no gas in the pipes. A meter had not been put
in for the wedding. This the papers had repeated-
ly stated in dwelling upon the garish effect of
the daylight on the elaborate costumes worn by
the ladies. Candles had not even been provided—
ah, candles! What, then, was it that I saw glitter-
ing on a small table at the other end of the room?
Surely a candlestick, or rather an old-fashioned
candelabrum with a half-burned candle in one of its


S8 THE FILIGREE BALL
sockets. Hastily crossing to it, I felt of the candle-
wick. It was quite stiff and hard. But not con-
sidering this a satisfactory proof that it had not
been lately burning—the tip of a wick soon dries
after the flame is blown out—I took out my pen-
knife and attacked the wick at what might be
called its root; whereupon I found that where the
threads had been protected by the wax they were
comparatively soft and penetrable.
The conclusion was obvious. True to my instinct
in this matter the woman had not lifted her weapon
in darkness; this candle had been burning. But
here my thoughts received a fresh shock. If burn-
ing, then by whom had it since been blown out?
Not by her; her wound was too fatally sure for
that. The steps taken between the table where the
candelabrum stood and the place where she lay,
were taken, if taken at all by her, before that shot
was fired. Some one else—some one whose breath
still lingered in the air about me—had extinguished
this candle-flame after she fell, and the death I
looked down upon was not a suicide, but a murder!
The excitement which this discovery caused to
tingle through my every nerve had its birth in the
ambitious feeling referred to in the opening para-
graph of this narrative. I believed that my long-
sought-for opportunity had come; that with the
start given me by the conviction just stated, I


I REMAIN 29
should be enabled to collect such clues and establish
such facts as would lead to the acceptance of this
new theory instead of the apparent one of suicide
embraced by Hibbard and about to be promulgated
at police headquarters. If so, what a triumph
would be mine; and what a debt I should owe to the
crabbed old gentleman whose seemingly fantastic
fears had first drawn me to this place!
Realizing the value of the opportunity afforded
me by the few minutes I was likely to spend alone
on this scene of crime, I proceeded to my task
with that directness and method which I had al-
ways promised myself should characterize my first
success in detective work.
First, then, for another look at the fair young
victim herself! What a line of misery on the brow!
What dark hollows disfiguring cheeks otherwise as
delicate as the petals of a rose! An interesting,
if not absolutely beautiful face, it told me some-
thing I could hardly put into words; so that it was
like leaving a fascinating but unsolved mystery
when I finally turned from it to study the hands,
each of which presented a separate problem. That
offered by the right wrist you already know—
the long white ribbon connecting it with the dis-
charged pistol. But the secret concealed by the
left, while less startling, was perhaps fully as sig-
nificant. All the rings were gone, even the wedding


30 THE FILIGREE BALL
ring which had been placed there such a short time
before. Had she been robbed? There were no signs
of violence visible nor even such disturbances as us-
ually follow despoliation by a criminal's hand. The
boa of delicate black net which encircled her neck
rose fresh and intact to her chin; nor did the heavy
folds of her rich broadcloth gown betray that any
disturbance had taken place in her figure after its
fall. If a jewel had flashed at her throat, or ear-
rings adorned her ears, they had been removed by
a careful, if not a loving, hand. But I was rather
inclined to think that she had entered upon the
scene of her death without ornaments,—such se-
vere simplicity marked her whole attire.
Her hat, which was as plain and also as elegant
as the rest of her clothing, lay near her on the floor.
It had been taken off and thrown down, manifestly
by an impatient hand. That this hand was her own
was evident from a small but very significant fact.
The pin which had held it to her hair had been
thrust again into the hat. No hand but hers would
have taken this precaution. A man would have
flung it aside just as he would have flung the hat.
Question:
Did this argue a natural expectation on her part
of resuming her hat? Or was the action the result
of an unconscious habit?
Having thus noted all that was possible concern-


I REMAIN 31
ing her without infringing on the rights of the
coroner, I next proceeded to cast about for clues to
the identity of the person whom I considered re-
sponsible for the extinguished candle. But here a
great disappointment awaited me. I could find noth-
ing expressive of a second person's presence save a
pile of cigar ashes scattered near the legs of a com-
mon kitchen chair which stood face to face with the
book shelves in that part of the room where the
candelabrum rested on a small table. But these
ashes looked old, nor could I detect any evidence
of tobacco smoke in the general mustiness pervad-
ing the place. Was the man who died here a fort-
night since accountable for these ashes? If so, his
unfinished cigar must be within sight. Should I
search for it? No, for this would take me to the
hearth and that was quite too deadly a place to be
heedlessly approached.
Besides, I was not yet finished with the spot where
I then stood. If I could gather nothing satisfac-
tory from the ashes, perhaps I could from the chair
or the shelves before which it had been placed.
Some one with an interest in books had sat there;
some one who expected to spend sufficient time over
these old tomes to feel the need of a chair. Had
this interest been a general one or had it centered in
a particular volume? I ran my eye over the shelves
within reach, possibly with an idea of settling this


32 THE FILIGREE BALL
question, and though my knowledge of books is
limited I could see that these were what one might
call rarities. Some of them contained specimens
of black letter, all moldy and smothered in dust;
in others I saw dates of publication which
placed them among volumes dear to a collector's
heart. But none of them, so far as I could see, gave
any evidence of having been lately handled; and
anxious to waste no time on puerile details, I hastily
quitted my chair, and was proceeding to turn my
attention elsewhere, when I noticed on an upper
shelf, a book projecting slightly beyond the others.
Instantly my foot was on the chair and the book in
my hand. Did I find it of interest? Yes, but not
on account of its contents, for they were pure Greek
to me; but because it lacked the dust on its upper
edge which had marked every other volume I had
handled. This, then, was what had attracted the
unknown to these shelves, this—let me see if I can
remember its title—Disquisition upon Old Coast-
lines. Pshaw! I was wasting my time. What
had such a dry compendium as this to do with the
body lying in its blood a few steps behind me, or
with the hand which had put out the candle upon
this dreadful deed? Nothing. I replaced the
book, but not so hastily as to push it one inch be-
yond the position in which I found it. For, if it
had a tale to tell, then was it my business to leave


I REMAIN 83
that tale to be read by those who understood books
better than I did.
My next move was toward the little table holding
the candelabrum with the glittering pendants. This
table was one of a nest standing against a near-by
wall. Investigation proved that it had been
lifted from the others and brought to its present
position within a very short space of time. For
the dust lying thick on its top was almost entirely
lacking from the one which had been nested under
it. Neither had the candelabrum been standing
there long, dust being found under as well as
around it. Had her hand brought it there?
Hardly, if it came from the top of the mantel
toward which I now turned in my course of investi-
gation.
I have already mentioned this mantel more than
once. This I could hardly avoid, since in and about
it lay the heart of the mystery for which the room
was remarkable. But though I have thus freely
spoken of it, and though it was not absent from
my thoughts for a moment, I had not ventured to
approach it beyond a certain safe radius. Now, in
looking to see if I might not lessen this radius,
I experienced that sudden and overwhelming inter-
est in its every feature which attaches to all ob-
jects peculiarly associated with danger.
I even took a step toward it, holding up my


34 THE FILIGREE BALL
lamp so that a stray ray struck the faded surfact
of an old engraving hanging over the fireplace.
It was the well-known one—in Washington at
least—of Benjamin Franklin at the Court of
France; interesting no doubt in a general way,
but scarcely calculated to hold the eye at so critical
an instant. Neither did the shelf below call for
more than momentary attention, for it was absolute-
ly bare. So was the time-worn, if not blood-stained
hearth, save for the impenetrable shadow cast over
it by the huge bulk of the great settle standing
at its edge.
I have already described the impression made
on me at my first entrance by this ancient and
characteristic article of furniture.
It was intensified now as my eye ran over the
clumsy carving which added to the discomfort of
its high straight back and as I smelt the smell of its
moldy and possibly mouse-haunted cushions. A
crawling sense of dread took the place of my first
instinctive repugnance; not because superstition
had as yet laid its grip upon me, although the
place, the hour and the near and veritable presence
of death were enough to rouse the imagination
past the bounds of the actual, but because of a dis-
covery I had made—a discovery which emphasized
the tradition that all who had been found dead
under the mantel had fallen as if from the end of


I REMAIN 35
this monstrous and patriarchal bench. Do you ask
what this discovery was? It can be told in a
word. This one end and only this end had been
made comfortable for the sitter. For a space
scarcely wide enough for one, the seat and back at
this special point had been upholstered with leath-
er, fastened to the wood with heavy wrought nails.
The remaining portion stretched out bare, hard and
inexpressibly forbidding to one who sought ease
there, or even a moment of casual rest. The natural
inference was that the owner of this quaint piece
of furniture had been a very selfish man who
thought only of his own comfort. But might he
not have had some other reason for his apparent
niggardliness? As I asked myself this question
and noted how the long and embracing arm which
guarded this cushioned retreat was flattened on top
for the convenient holding of decanter and glass,
feelings to which I can give no name and which
I had fondly believed myself proof against, began
to take the place of judgment and reason. Be-
fore I realized the nature of my own impulse or
to what it was driving me, I found myself moving
slowly and steadily toward this formidable seat,
under an irresistible desire to fling myself down
upon these old cushions and—
But here the creaking of some far-off shutter—
possibly the one I had seen swaying from the op-


36 THE FILIGREE BALL
posite side of the street—recalled me to the duties
of the hour, and, remembering that my investiga-
tions were but half completed and that I might
be interrupted any moment by detectives from
headquarters, I broke from the accursed charm,
which horrified me the moment I escaped it, and
quitting the room by a door at the farther end,
sought to find in some of the adjacent rooms the
definite traces I had failed to discover on this, the
actual scene of the crime.
It was a dismal search, revealing at every turn
the almost maddened haste with which the house
had been abandoned. The dining-room especially
roused feelings which were far from pleasant. The
table, evidently set for the wedding breakfast, had
been denuded in such breathless hurry that the
food had been tossed from the dishes and now lay
in moldering heaps on the floor. The wedding
cake, which some one had dropped, possibly in the
effort to save it, had been stepped on; and broken
glass, crumpled napery and withered flowers
made all the corners unsightly and rendered
stepping over the unwholesome floors at once dis-
gusting and dangerous. The pantries opening out
of this room were in no better case. Shrinking
from the sights and smells I found there, I passed
out into the kitchen and so on by a close and nar-


I REMAIN 37
row passage to the negro quarters clustered in the
rear.
Here I made a discovery. One of the windows
in this long disused portion of the house was not
only unlocked but partly open. But as I came upOn
no marks showing that this outlet had been used by
the escaping murderer, I made my way back to the
front of the house and thus to the stairs communi-
cating with the upper floor.
It was on the rug lying at the foot of these stairs
that I came upon the first of a dozen or more
burned matches which lay in a distinct trail up the
staircase and along the floors of the upper halls.
As these matches were all burned as short as fingers
could hold them, it was evident that they had been
used to light the steps of some one seeking refuge
above, possibly in the very room where we had seen
the light which had first drawn us to this house.
How then? Should I proceed or await the coming
of the "boys" before pushing in upon a possible
murderer? I decided to proceed, fascinated, I
think, by the nicety of the trail which lay before
me.
But when, after a careful following in the steps
of him who had so lately preceded me, I came upon
a tightly closed door at the end of a side passage,
I own that I stopped a moment before lifting hand


38 THE FILIGREE BALL
to it. So much may lie behind a tightly closed
door! But my hesitation, if hesitation it Was, lasted
but a moment. My natural impatience and the
promptings of my vanity overcame the dictates
of my judgment, and, reckless of consequences,
perhaps disdainful of them, I soon had the knob in
my grasp. I gave a slight push to the door and,
on seeing a crack of light leap into life along the
jamb, pushed the door wider and wider till the
whole room stood revealed.
The instantaneous banging of a shutter in one of
its windows proved the room to be the very one
which we had seen lighted from below. Otherwise
all was still; nor was I able to detect, in my first
hurried glance, any other token of human presence
than a candle sputtering in its own grease at the
bottom of a tumbler placed on one corner of an
old-fashioned dressing table. This, the one touch
of incongruity in a room otherwise rich if not
stately in its appointments, was loud in its sugges-
tion of some hidden presence given to expedients
and reckless of consequences; but of this presence
nothing was to be seen.
Not satisfied with this short survey,—a survey
which had given me the impression of a spacious
old-fashioned chamber, fully furnished but breath-
ing of the by-gone rather than of the present—
and resolved to know the worst, or, rather, to dare


I REMAIN 39
the worst and be done with it, I strode straight
into the center of the room and cast about me
quickly a comprehensive glance which spared
nothing, not even the shadows lurking in the cor-
ners. But no low-lying figure started up from
those corners, nor did any crouching head rise
into sight from beyond the leaves of the big screen
behind which I was careful to look.
Greatly reassured, and indeed quite convinced
that wherever the criminal lurked at that moment
he was not in the same room with me, I turned my
attention to my surroundings, which had many
points of interest. Foremost among these was the
big four-poster which occupied a large space at my
right. I had never seen its like in use before, and
I was greatly attracted by its size and the air of
mystery imparted to it by its closely drawn cur-
tains of faded brocade. In fact, this bed, whether
from its appearance or some occult influence in-
herent in it, had a fascination for me. I hesitated
to approach it, yet could not forbear surveying it
long and earnestly. Could it be possible that those
curtains concealed some one in hiding behind them?
Strange to say I did not feel quite ready to lay
hand on them and see.
A dressing table laden with woman's fixings and
various articles of the toilet, all of an unexpected
value and richness, occupied the space between the


I REMAIN 41
come in the library below clung with strange in-
sistence to me here, making it an effort for me to
move, and giving to the unexpected reflection of
my own image in the mirror I chanced to pass, a
power to shock my nerves which has never been
repeated in my experience.
It may seem both unnecessary and out of char-
acter for a man of my calling to acknowledge
these chance sensations, but only by doing so can
I account for the minutes which elapsed before I
summoned sufficient self-possession to draw aside
the closed curtains of the bed and take the quick
look inside which my present doubtful position de-
manded. But once I had broken the spell and taken
the look just mentioned, I found my manhood
return and with it my old ardor for clues. The
bed held no gaping, chattering criminal; yet was
it not quite empty. Something lay there, and this
something, while commonplace in itself, was enough
out of keeping with the place and hour to rouse
my interest and awaken my conjectures. It was
a lady's wrap so rich in quality and of such a
festive appearance that it was astonishing to find
it lying in a neglected state in this crumbling old
house. Though I know little of the cost of wom-
en's garments, I do know the value of lace, and
this garment was covered with it.
Interesting as was this find, it was followed by


42 THE FILIGREE BALL
one still more so. Nestled in the folds of the cloak,
lay the withered remains of what could only have
been the bridal bouquet. Unsightly now and scent-
less, it was once a beautiful specimen of the florist's
art. As I noted how the main bunch of roses
and lilies was connected by long satin ribbons to
the lesser clusters which hung from it, I recalled
with conceivable horror the use to which a similar
ribbon had been put in the room below. In the
shudder called up by this coincidence I forgot to
speculate how a bouquet carried by the bride
could have found its way back to this upstairs
room when, as all accounts agree, she had fled
from the parlor below without speaking or staying
foot the moment she was told of the catastrophe
which had taken place in the library. That her
wrap should be lying here was not strange, but
that the wedding bouquet—
That it really was the wedding bouquet and that
this was the room in which the bride had dressed
for the ceremony was apparent to the most casual
observer. But it became an established fact when
in my further course about the room I chanced on
a handkerchief with the name Veronica embroid-
ered in one corner.
This handkerchief had an interest apart from the
name on it. It was of dainty texture and quite in
keeping, so far as value went, with the other belong-


I REMAIN 43
ings of its fastidious owner. But it was not clean.
Indeed it was strangely soiled, and this soil was of
a nature I did not readily understand. A woman
would doubtless have comprehended immediately
the cause of the brown streaks I found on it, but it
took me several minutes to realize that this bit of
cambric, delicate as a cobweb, had been used to
remove dust. To remove dust! Dust from what?
From the mantel-shelf probably, upon one end of
which I found it. But no! one look along the pol-
ished boards convinced me that whatever else had
been dusted in this room this shelf had not. The
accumulation of days, if not of months, was visible
from one end to the other of its unrelieved surface
save where the handkerchief had lain, and—the
greatest discovery yet—where five clear spots just
to the left of the center showed where some man's
finger-tips had rested. Nothing but the pressure of
finger-tips could have caused just the appearance
presented by these spots. By scrutinizing them
closely I could even tell where the thumb had rested,
and at once foresaw the possibility of determining
by means of these marks both the size and shape
of the hand which had left behind it so neat and
unmistakable a clue.
Wonderful! but what did it all mean? Why
should a man rest his finger-tips on this out-of-
the-way shelf? Had he done so in an effort to


44 THE FILIGREE BALL
balance himself for a look up the chimney? No;
for then the marks made by his fingers would
have extended to the edge of the shelf, whereas
these were in the middle of it. Their shape, too,
was round, not oblong; hence, the pressure had
come from above and—ah! I had it, these impres-
sions in the dust of the shelf were just such as
would be made by a person steadying himself for
a close look at the old picture. And this accounted
also for the overturned chair, and for the handker-
chief used as a duster. Some one's interest in this
picture had been greater than mine; some one who
was either very near-sighted or whose temperament
was such that only the closest inspection would sat-
isfy an aroused curiosity.
This gave me an idea, or rather impressed upon
me the necessity of preserving the outline of these
tell-tale marks while they were still plain to the eye.
Taking out my penknife, I lightly ran the point
of my sharpest blade around each separate impres-
sion till I had fixed them for all time in the well
worn varnish of the mahogany.
This done, my thoughts recurred to the question
already raised. What was there in this old picture
to arouse such curiosity in one bent on evil if not
fresh from a hideous crime? I have said before that
the picture as a picture was worthless, a mere faded
sketch fit only for lumbering up some old garret.


I REMAIN 45
Then wherein lay its charm,—a charm which I my-
self had felt, though not to this extent? It was use-
less to conjecture. A fresh difficulty had been
added to my task by this puzzling discovery, but
difficulties only increased my interest. It was with
an odd feeling of elation that, in a further exam-
ination of this room, I came upon two additional
facts equally odd and irreconcilable.
One was the presence of a penknife with the file
blade open, on a small table under the window
marked by the loosened shutter. Scattered about it
were some filings which shone as the light from my
lantern fell upon them, but which were so fine as
to call for a magnifying-glass to make them out.
The other was in connection with a closet not far
from the great bed. It was an empty closet so far
as the hooks went and the two great drawers which
I found standing half open at its back; but in the
middle of the floor lay an overturned candelabrum
similar to the one below, but with its prisms scat-
tered and its one candle crushed and battered out of
all shape on the blackened boards. If upset while
alight, the foot which had stamped upon it in a wild
endeavor to put out the flames had been a frenzied
one. Now, by whom had this frenzy been shown,
and when? Within the hour? I could detect no
smell of smoke. At some former time, then? say
on the day of tie bridal?


THE FILIGREE BALL
Glancing from the broken candle at my feet to
the one giving its last sputter in the tumbler on the
dressing table, I owned myself perplexed.
Surely, no ordinary explanation fitted these ex-
traordinary and seemingly contradictory circum-
stances.


IV
SIGNED, VERONICA
I am in some ways hypersensitive. Among my
other weaknesses I have a wholesome dread of ridi-
cule, and this is probably why I failed to press
my theory on the captain when he appeared, and
even forbore to mention the various small matters
which had so attracted my attention. If he and the
experienced men who came with him saw suicide
and nothing but suicide in this lamentable shooting
of a bride of two weeks, then it was not for me to
suggest a deeper crime, especially as one of the
latter eyed me with open scorn when I proposed to
accompany them upstairs into the room where the
light had been seen burning. No, I would keep my
discoveries to myself or, at least, forbear to mention
them till I found the captain alone, asking nothing
at this juncture but permission to remain in the
house till Mr. Jeffrey arrived.
I had been told that an officer had gone for this
gentleman, and when I heard the sound of wheels
in front I made a rush for the door, in my anxiety
47


48 THE FILIGREE BALL
to catch a glimpse of him. But it was a woman
who alighted.
As this woman was in a state of great agitation,
one of the men hastened down to offer his arm. As
she took it, I asked Hibbard, who had suddenly
reappeared upon the scene, who she was.
He said that she was probably the sister of the
woman who lay inside. Upon which I remembered
that this lady, under the name of Miss Tuttle—
she was but half-sister to Miss Moore—had been
repeatedly mentioned by the reporters, in the
accounts of the wedding before mentioned, as a
person of superior attainments and magnificent
beauty.
This did not take from my interest, and flinging
decorum to the winds, I approached as near as
possible to the threshold which she must soon
cross. As I did so I was astonished to hear the
strains of Uncle David's organ still pealing from
the opposite side of the way. This at a moment so
serious and while matters of apparent consequence
were taking place in the house to which he had
himself directed the attention of the police, struck
me as carrying stoicism to the extreme. Not
very favorably impressed by this display of open
if not insulting indifference on the part of the
sole remaining Moore,—an indifference which did
not appear quite natural even in a man of his


SIGNED, VERONICA 49
morbid eccentricity,—I resolved to know more
of this old man and, above all, to make myself fully
acquainted with the exact relations which had ex-
isted between him and his unhappy niece.
Meanwhile Miss Tuttle had stepped within the
circle of light cast by our lanterns.
I have never seen a finer woman, nor one whose
features displayed a more heartrending emotion.
This called for respect, and I, for one, endeavored
to show it by withdrawing into the background.
But I soon stepped forward again. My desire to
understand her was too great, the impression made
by her bearing too complex, to be passed over
lightly by one on the lookout for a key to the re-
markable tragedy before us.
Meanwhile her lips had opened with the cry:
"My sister! Where is my sister?"
The captain made a hurried movement toward the
rear and then with the laudable intention, doubt-
less, of preparing her for the ghastly sight which
awaited her, returned and opened a way for her
into the drawing-room. But she was not to be
turned aside from her course. Passing him by,
she made directly for the library which she en-
tered with a bound. Struck by her daring, we
all crowded up behind her, and, curious brutes
that we were, grouped ourselves in a semicircle
about the doorway as she faltered toward her sis-


50 THE FILIGREE BALL
ter's outstretched form and fell on her knees
beside it. Her involuntary shriek and the fierce
recoil she made as her eyes fell on the long white
ribbon trailing over the floor from her sister's
wrist, struck me as voicing the utmost horror of
which the human soul is capable. It was as though
her very soul were pierced. Something in the fact
itself, something in the appearance of this snowy
ribbon tied to the scarce whiter wrist, seemed to
pluck at the very root of her being; and when her
glance, in traveling its length, lighted on the death-
dealing weapon at its end, she cringed in such
apparent anguish that we looked to see her fall
in a swoon or break out into delirium. We were
correspondingly startled when she suddenly burst
forth with this word of stern command:
"Untie that knot! Why do you leave that
dreadful thing fast to her? Untie it, I say, it is
killing me; I can not bear the sight." And from
trembling she passed to shuddering till her whole
body shook convulsively.
The captain, with much consideration, drew
back the hand he had impulsively stretched to-
ward the ribbon.
"No, no," he protested; "we can not do that;
we can do nothing till the coroner comes. It is
necessary that he should see her just as she was


SIGNED, VERONICA 51
found. Besides, Mr. Jeffrey has a right to the
same privilege. We expect him any moment."
The beautiful head of the woman before us shook
involuntarily, but her lips made no protest. I
doubt if she possessed the power of speech at that
moment. A change, subtile, but quite perceptible,
had taken place in her emotions at mention of her
sister's husband, and, though she exerted herself
to remain calm, the effort seemed too much for her
strength. Anxious to hide this evidence of weak-
ness, she rose impetuously; and then we saw how
tall she was, how the long lines of her cloak be-
came her, and what a glorious creature she was al-
together.
"It will kill him," she groaned in a deep in-
ward voice. Then, with a certain forced haste and
in a tone of surprise which to my ear had not quite
a natural ring, she called aloud on her who could no
longer either listen or answer:
"Oh, Veronica, Veronica! What cause had you
for death? And why do we find you lying here
in a spot you so feared and detested?"
"Don't you know?" insinuated the captain, with
a mild persuasiveness, such as he was seldom heard
to use. "Do you mean that you can not account
for your sister's violent end, you, who have
lived with her—or so I have been told—ever since
her marriage with Mr. Jeffrey?"


52 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Yes."
Keen and clear the word rang out, fierce in
its keenness and almost too clear to be in keeping
with the half choked tones with which she added:
"I know that she was not happy, that she never
has been happy since the shadow which this room
suggests fell upon her marriage. But how could
I so much as dream that her dread of the past
or her fear of the future would drive her to sui-
cide, and in this place of all places! Had I done
so—had I imagined in the least degree that she was
affected to this extent—do you think that I would
have left her for one instant alone? None of us
knew that she contemplated death. She had no
appearance of it; she laughed when I—"
What had she been about to say? The captain
seemed to wonder, and after waiting in vain for
the completion of her sentence, he quietly sug-
gested:
"You have not finished what you had to say,
Miss Tuttle."
She started and seemed to come back from some
remote region of thought into which she had wan-
dered. "I don't know—I forget," she stammered,
with a heart-broken sigh. "Poor Veronica!
Wretched Veronica! How shall I ever tell him!
How, how, can we ever prepare him!"
The captain took advantage of this reference to


SIGNED, VERONICA 53
Mr. Jeffrey to ask where that gentleman was. The
young lady did not seem eager to reply, but when
pressed, answered, though somewhat mechanically,
that it was impossible for her to say; Mr. Jeffrey
had many friends with any one of whom he might
be enjoying a social evening.
"But it is far past midnight now," remarked
the captain. "Is he in the habit of remaining out
late?"
"Sometimes," she faintly admitted. "Two or
three times since his marriage he has been out till
one."
Were there other causes for the young bride's
evident disappointment and misery besides the one
intimated? There certainly was some excuse for
thinking so.
Possibly some one of us may have shown his
doubts in this regard, for the woman before us
suddenly broke forth with this vehement assertion:
"Mr. Jeffrey was a loving husband to my sister.
A very loving husband," she emphasized. Then,
growing desperately pale, she added, "I have never
known a better man," and stopped.
Some hidden anguish in this cry, some self-con-
sciousness in this pause, suggested to me a possi-
bility which I was glad to see ignored by the cap-
tain in his next question.
"When did you see your sister last?" he asked.


54. THE FILIGREE BALL
"Were you at home when she left her husband's
house?"
"Alas!" she murmured. Then seeing that a
more direct answer was expected of her, she added
with as little appearance of effort as possible:
"I was at home and I heard her go out. But I
had no idea that it was for any purpose other than
to join some social gathering."
"Dressed this way?"
The captain pointed to the floor and her eyes fol-
lowed. Certainly Mrs. Jeffrey was not appareled
for an evening company. As Miss Tuttle realized
the trap into which she had been betrayed, her
words rushed forth and tripped each other up.
"I did not notice. She often wore black—it be-
came her. My sister was eccentric."
Worse, worse than useless. Some slips can not be
explained away. Miss Tuttle seemed to realize that
this was one of them, for she paused abruptly,
with the words half finished on her tongue. Yet
her attitude commanded respect, and I for one was
ready to accord it to her.
Certainly, such a woman was not to be seen every
day, and if her replies lacked candor, there was a
nobility in her presence which gave the lie to any
doubt. At least, that was the effect she produced
on me. Whether or not her interrogator shared my
feeling I could not so readily determine, for his


SIGNED, VERONICA 55
attention as well as mine was suddenly diverted by
the cry which now escaped her lips.
"Her watch! Where is her watch? It is gone! I
saw it on her breast and it's gone. It hung just—
just where—"
"Wait!" cried one of the men who had been
peering about the floor. "Is this it?"
He held aloft a small object blazing with jewels.
"Yes," she gasped, trying to take it.
But the officer gave it to the captain instead.
"It must have slipped from her as she fell," re-
marked the latter, after a cursory examination of
the glittering trinket. "The pin by which she at-
tached it to her dress must have been insecurely
fastened." Then quickly and with a sharp look
at Miss Tuttle: "Do you know if this was consid-
ered an accurate timepiece?"
> "Yes. Why do you ask? Is it—"
"Look!" He held it up with the face toward
us. The hands stood at thirteen minutes past
seven. "The hour and the moment when it struck
the floor," he declared. "And consequently the
hour and the moment when Mrs. Jeffrey fell," fin-
ished Durbin.
Miss Tuttle said nothing, only gasped.
"Valuable evidence," quoth the captain, put-
ting the watch in his pocket. Then, with a kind
look at her, called forth by the sight of her misery:


56 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Does this hour agree with the time of her leaving
the house?"
"I can not say. I think so. It was some time
before or after seven. I don't remember the exact
minute."
"It would take fifteen for her to walk here. Did
she walk?"
"I do not know. I didn't see her leave. My
room is at the back of the house."
"You can say if she left alone or in the com-
pany of her husband?"
"Mr. Jeffrey was not with her?"
"Was Mr. Jeffrey in the house?"
"He was not."
This last negative was faintly spoken.
The captain noticed this and ventured upon in-
terrogating her further.
"How long had he been gone?"
Her lips parted; she was deeply agitated; but
when she spoke it was coldly and with studied pre-
cision.
"Mr. Jeffrey was not at home to-night at all.
He has not been in all day."
"Not at home? Did his wife know that he was
going to dine out?"
"She said nothing about it."
The captain cut short his questions and in an-
other moment I understood why. A gentleman was


SIGNED, VERONICA 57
standing in the doorway, whose face once seen, was
enough to stop the words on any man's lips. Miss
Tuttle saw this gentleman almost as quickly as
we did and sank with an involuntary moan to her
knees.
It was Francis Jeffrey come to look upon his
dead bride.
I have been present at many tragic scenes and
have beheld men under almost every aspect of
grief, terror and remorse; but there was something
in the face of this man at this dreadful moment
that was quite new to me, and, as I judge, equally
new to the other hardy officials about me. To be
sure he was a gentleman and a very high-bred one
at that; and it is but seldom we have to do with any
of his ilk.
Breathlessly we awaited his first words.
Not that he showed frenzy or made any display
of the grief or surprise natural to the occasion.
On the contrary, he was the quietest person pres-
ent, and among all the emotions his white face mir-
rored I saw no signs of what might be called sor-
row. Yet his appearance was one to wring the
heart and rouse the most contradictory conjectures
as to just what chord in his evidently highly-
strung nature throbbed most acutely to the horror
and astonishment of this appalling end of so short
a married life.


58 THE FILIGREE BALL
His eye, which was fixed on the prostrate body
of his bride, did not yield up its secret. When
he moved and came to where she lay and caught
his first sight of the ribbon and the pistol attached
to it, the most experienced among us were baffled
as to the nature of his feelings and thoughts. One
thing alone was patent to all. He had no wish to
touch this woman whom he had so lately sworn to
cherish. His eyes devoured her, he shuddered and
strove several times to speak, and though kneeling
by her side, he did not reach forth his hand nor
did he let a tear fall on the appealing features so
pathetically turned upward as if to meet his look.
Suddenly he leaped to his feet.
"Must she stay here?" he demanded, looking
about for the person most in authority.
The captain answered by a question:
"How do you account for her being here at all?
What explanation have you, as her husband, to
give for this strange suicide of your wife?"
For reply, Mr. Jeffrey, who was an exception-
ally handsome man, drew forth a small slip of
crumpled paper, which he immediately handed over
to the speaker.
"Let her own words explain," said he. "I
found this scrap of writing in our upstairs room
when I returned home to-night. She must have
written it just before—before—"


SIGNED, VERONICA
89
A smothered groan filled up the break, but it did
not come from his lips, which were fixed and set,
but from those of the woman who crouched
amongst us. Did he catch this expression of
sorrow from one whose presence he as yet had
given no token of recognizing? He did not seem
to. His eye was on the captain, who was slowly
reading, by the light of a lantern held in a detec-
tive's hand, the almost illegible words which Mr.
Jeffrey had just said were his wife's last commu-
nication.
Will they seem as pathetic to the eye as they did
to the ear in that room of awesome memories and
present death?
“I find that I do not love you as I thought I did.
I can not live, knowing this to be so. I pray God
that you may forgive me.
VERONICA."
A gasp from the figure in the corner; then si-
lence. We were glad to hear the captain's voice
again.
“A woman's heart is a great mystery,” he re-
marked, with a short glance at Mr. Jeffrey.
It was a sentiment we could all echo; for he, to
whom she had alluded in these few lines as one she
could not love, was a man whom most women would
consider the embodiment of all that was admirable
and attractive.


60 THE FILIGREE BALL
That one woman so regarded him was apparent
to all. If ever the heart spoke in a human face, it
spoke in that of Miss Tuttle as she watched her
sister's husband struggling for composure above
the prostrate form of her who but a few hours
previous had been the envy of all the fashionable
young women in Washington. I found it hard
to fix my attention on the next question, inter-
esting and valuable as every small detail was likely
to prove in case my theory of this crime should
ever come to be looked on as the true one.
"How came you to search here for the wife who
had written you this vague and far from satisfac-
tory farewell? I see no hint in these lines of the
place where she intended to take her life."
"No! no!" Even this strong man shrank from
this idea and showed a very natural recoil as his
glances flew about the ill-omened room and finally
rested on the fireside over which so repellent a
mystery hung in impenetrable shadow. "She said
nothing of her intentions; nothing! But the man
who came for me told me where she was to be
found. He was waiting at the door of my house.
He had been on a search for me up and down the
town. We met on the stoop."
The captain accepted this explanation without
cavil. I was glad he did. But to me the affair
showed inconsistencies which I secretly felt it to be
my especial duty to unravel.


MASTER AND DOG
No further opportunity was afforded me that
night for studying the three leading characters in
the remarkable drama I saw unfolding before me.
A task was assigned me by the captain which took
me from the house, and I missed the next scene—
the arrival of the coroner. But I repaid myself
for this loss in a way I thought justified by the
importance of my own theory and the evident
necessity there was of collecting each and every
point of evidence which could give coloring to the
charge, in the event of this crime coming to be
looked on at headquarters as one of murder.
Observing that a light was still burning in Uncle
David's domicile, I crossed to his door and rang
the bell. I was answered by the deep and pro-
longed howl of a dog, soon cut short by his mas-
ter's amiable greeting. This latter was a surprise
to me. I had heard so often of Mr. Moore's
churlishness as a host that I had expected some
rebuff. But I encountered no such tokens of hos-
tility. His brow was smooth and his smile cheer-
61


62 THE FILIGREE BALL
fully condescending. Indeed, he appeared anx-
ious to have me enter, and cast an indulgent look
at Rudge, whose irrepressible joy at this break
in the monotony of his existence was tinged with a
very evident dread of offending his master. In-
terested anew, I followed this man of contradictory
impulses into the room toward which he led me.
The time has now come for a more careful de-
scription of this peculiar man. Mr. Moore was
tall and of that refined spareness of shape which
suggests the scholar. Yet he had not the scholar's
eye. On the contrary, his regard was quick, if
not alert, and while it did not convey actual
malice or ill-will, it roused in the spectator an
uncomfortable feeling, not altogether easy to
analyze. He wore his iron gray locks quite
long, and to this, distinguishing idiosyncrasy,
as well as to his invariable custom of taking his
dog with him wherever he went, was due the in-
terest always shown in him by street urchins. On
account of his whimsicalities, he had acquired the
epithet of Uncle David among them, despite his
aristocratic connections and his gentlemanlike
bearing. His clothes formed no exception to the
general air of individuality which marked him.
They were of different cut from those of other
men, and in this as in many other ways he was a
law to himself; notably so in the following in-


MASTER AND DOG 63
stance: He kept one day of the year religiously,
and kept it always in the same way. Long
years before, he had been blessed with a wife who
both understood and loved him. He had never
forgotten this fact, and once a year, presumably
on the anniversary of her death, it was his cus-
to to go to the cemetery where she lay and to
spend the whole day under the shadow of the
stone he had raised to her memory. No matter
what the weather, no matter what the condition of
his own health, he was always to be seen in this
spot, at the hour of seven, leaning against the
shaft on which his wife's name was written, eating
his supper in the company of his dog. It was a
custom he had never omitted. So well known was
it to the boys and certain other curious individuals
in the neighborhood that he never lacked an audi-
ence, though woe betide the daring foot that pre-
sumed to invade the precincts of the lot he called
his, or the venturesome voice which offered to raise
itself in gibe or jeer. He had but to cast a glance
at Rudge and an avenging rush scattered the
crowd in a twinkling. But he seldom had occa-
sion to resort to this extreme measure for preserv-
ing the peace and quiet of his solemn watch. As a
rule he was allowed to eat his meal undisturbed,
and to pass out unmolested even by ridicule, though
his teeth might still be busy over some final tid-


64 THE FILIGREE BALL
bit. Often the great tears might be seen hanging
undried upon his withered cheeks.
So much for one oddity which may stand as a
sample of many others.
One glance at the room into which he ushered
me showed why he cherished so marked a dislike
for visitors. It was bare to the point of discom-
fort, and had it not been for a certain quaintness
in the shape of the few articles to be seen there, I
should have experienced a decided feeling of re-
pulsion, so pronounced was the contrast between
this poverty-stricken interior and the polished
bearing of its owner. He, I am sure, could have
shown no more elevated manners if he had been
doing the honors of a palace. The organ, with the
marks of home construction upon it, was the only
object visible which spoke of luxury or even com-
fort.
But enough of these possibly uninteresting de-
tails. I did not dwell on them myself, except in a
vague way and while waiting for him to open the
conversation. This he did as soon as he saw that I
had no intention of speaking first.
"And did you find any one in he old house?"
he asked.
Keeping him well under my eye, I replied with
intentional brusqueness:
"She has gone there once too often!"


MASTER AND DOG 65
The stare he gave me was that of an actor who
feels that some expression of surprise is expected
from him.
"She?" He repeated. "Whom can you possibly
mean by she?"
The surprise I expressed at this bold attempt at
ingenuousness was better simulated than his, I hope.
"You don't know!" I exclaimed. "Can you live
directly opposite a place of such remarkable asso-
ciations and not interest yourself in who goes in
and out of its deserted doors?"
"I don't sit in my front window," he peevishly
returned.
I let my eye roam toward a chair standing sus-
piciously near the very window he had designated.
"But you saw the light?" I suggested.
"I saw that from the door-step when I went out
to give Rudge his usual five minutes' breathing
spell on the stoop. But you have not answered my
question; whom do you mean by she?"
"Veronica Jeffrey," I replied. "She who was
Veronica Moore. She has visited this haunted
house of hers for the last time."
"Last time!" Either he could not or would not
understand me.
"What has happened to my niece?" he cried, ris-
ing with an energy that displaced the great dog
and sent him, with hanging head and trailing tail,


66 THE FILIGREE BALL
to his own special sleeping-place under the table.
"Has she run upon a ghost in those dismal apart-
ments? You interest me greatly. I did not
think she would ever have the pluck to visit this
house again after what happened at her wedding."
"She has had the pluck," I assured him; "and
what is more, she has had enough of it not only to
reenter the house, but to reenter it alone. At least,
such is the present inference. Had you been
blessed with more curiosity and made more frequent
use of the chair so conveniently placed for viewing
the opposite house, you might have been in a posi-
tion to correct this inference. It would help the
police materially to know positively that she had no
companion in her fatal visit."
"Fatal?" he repeated, running his finger inside
his neckband, which suddenly seemed to have
grown too tight for comfort. "Can it be that my
niece has been frightened to death in that old
place? You alarm me."
He did not look alarmed, but then he was not of
an impressible nature. Yet he was of the same
human clay as the rest of us, and, if he knew no
more of this occurrence than he tried to make out,
could not be altogether impervious to what I had
to say next.
"You have a right to be alarmed," I assented.
"She was not frightened to death, yet is she lying


MASTER AND DOG 67
dead on the library floor." Then, with a glance at
the windows about me, I added lightly: "I take
it that a pistol-shot delivered over there could not
be heard in this room."
He sank rather melodramatically into his seat,
yet his face and form did not lose that sudden as-
sumption of dignity which I had observed in him
ever since my entrance into the house.
"I am overwhelmed by this news," he remarked.
"She has shot herself? Why?"
"I did not say that she had shot herself," I care-
fully repeated. "Yet the facts point that way
and Mr. Jeffrey accepts the suicide theory without
question."
"Ah, Mr. Jeffrey is there!"
"Most certainly; he was sent for at once."
"And Miss Tuttle? She came with him of
course?"
"She came, but not with him. She is very fond
of her sister."
"I must go over at once," he cried, leaping again
to his feet and looking about for his hat. "It is
my duty to make them feel at home; in short, to—
to put the house at their disposal." Here he found
his hat and placed it on his head. "The property
is mine now, you know," he politely explained,
turning, with a keen light in his gray eye, full upon
me and overwhelming me with the grand air of a


68 THE FILIGREE BALL
man who has come unexpectedly into his own.
"Mrs. Jeffrey's father was my younger brother—
the story is an old and long one—and the property,
which in all justice should have been divided be-
tween us, went entirely to him. But he was a
good fellow in the main and saw the injustice of
his father's will as clearly as I did, and years ago
made one on his own account bequeathing me the
whole estate in case he left no issue, or that issue
died. Veronica was his only child; Veronica has
died; therefore the old house is mine and all that
goes with it, all that goes with it."
There was the miser's gloating in this repetition
of a phrase sufficiently expressive in itself, or rather
the gloating of a man who sees himself suddenly
rich after a life of poverty. There was likewise a
callousness as regarded his niece's surprising death
which I considered myself to have some excuse for
noticing.
"You accept her death very calmly," I remarked.
"Probably you knew her to be possessed of an er-
ratic mind."
He was about to bestow an admonitory kick on
his dog, who had been indiscreet enough to rise at
his master's first move, but his foot stopped in mid
air, in his anxiety to concentrate all his attention
on his answer.
"I am a man of few sentimentalities," he coldly


MASTER AND DOG 69
averred. "I have loved but one person in my whole
life. Why then should I be expected to mourn
over a niece who did not care enough for me to
invite me to her wedding? It would be an affecta-
tion unworthy the man who has at last come to fill
his rightful position in this community as the own-
er of the great Moore estate. For great it shall
be," he emphatically continued. "In three years
you will not know the house over yonder. Despite
its fancied ghosts and death-dealing fireplace, it
will stand A Number One in Washington. I, Da-
vid Moore, promise you this; and I am not a man
to utter fatuous prophecies. But I must be missed
over there." Here he gave the mastiff the long-
delayed kick. "Rudge, stay here! The vestibule
opposite is icy. Besides, your howls are not wanted
in those old walls to-night even if you would go
with me, which I doubt. He has never been willing
to cross to that side of the street," the old gentle-
man went on to complain, with his first show of ir-
ritation. "But he'll have to overcome that preju-
dice soon, even if I have to tear up the old hearth-
stone and reconstruct the walls. I can't live with-
out Rudge, and I will not live in any other place
than in the old home of my ancestors."
I was by this time following him out.
"You have failed to answer the suggestion I
made you a minute since," I hazarded. "Will you


70 THE FILIGBEE BALL
pardon me if I put it now as a question? Your
niece, Mrs. Jeffrey, seemed to have everything in
the world to make her happy, yet she took her life.
Was there a taint of insanity in her blood, or was
her nature so impulsive that her astonishing death
in so revolting a place should awaken in you so
little wonder?"
A gleam of what had made him more or less
feared by the very urchins who dogged his steps
and made sport of him at a respectful distance
shot from his eye as he glowered back at me from
the open door. But he hastily suppressed this sign
of displeasure and replied with the faintest tinge
of sarcasm:
"There! you are expecting from me feelings
which belong to youth or to men of much more
heart than understanding. I tell you that I have
no feelings. My niece may have developed in-
sanity or she may simply have drunk her cup of
pleasure dry at twenty-two and come to its dregs
prematurely. I do not know and I do not care.
What concerns me is that the responsibility of a
large fortune has fallen upon me most unexpected-
ly and that I have pride enough to wish to show
myself capable of sustaining the burden. Be-
sides, they may be tempted to do some mischief to
the walls or floors over there. The police respect
no man's property. But I am determined they


MASTER AND DOG 71
shall respect mine. No rippings up or tearings
down will I allow unless I stand by to supervise the
job. I am master of the old homestead now and I
mean to show it." And with a last glance at the
dog, who uttered the most mournful of protests in
reply, he shut the front door and betook himself to
the other side of the street.
As I noticed his assured bearing as he disap-
peared within the forbidding portal which, accord-
ing to his own story, had for so long a time been
shut against him, I asked myself if the candle
which I had noticed lying on his mantel-shelf was
of the same make and size as those I had found in
my late investigations in the house he was then
entering.


VI
GOSSIP
Next morning the city was in a blaze of excite-
ment. All the burning questions of the hour—
the rapid mobilization of the army and the prospect
of a speedy advance on Cuba—were forgotten in
the one engrossing topic of young Mrs. Jeffrey's
death and the awful circumstances surrounding it.
Nothing else was in any one's mouth and but little
else in any one's heart. Her youth, her promi-
nence, her union with a man of such marked at-
tractions as Mr. Jeffrey, the tragedy connected
with her marriage, thrown now into shadow by the
still more poignant tragedy which had so suddenly
terminated her own life, gave to the affair an inter-
est which for those first twenty-four hours did not
call for any further heightening by a premature
suggestion of murder.
Though I was the hero of the hour and, as such,
subjected to an infinite number of questions, I fol-
lowed the lead of my superiors in this regard and
carefully refrained from advancing any theories
n


GOSSIP 73
beyond the obvious one of suicide. The moment
for self-exploitation was not ripe; I did not stand
high enough in the confidence of the major, or, I
may say, of the lieutenant of my own precinct, to
risk the triumph I anticipated ultimately by a
premature expression of opinion.
I had an enemy at headquarters; or, rather, one
of the men there had always appeared peculiarly
interested in showing me up in the worst light.
The name of this man was Durbin, and it was he
who had uttered something like a slighting remark
when on that first night I endeavored to call the
captain's attention to some of the small matters
which had offered themselves to me in the light of
clues. Perhaps it was the prospect of surprising
him some day which made me so wary now as well
as so alert to fill my mind with all known facts con-
cerning the Jeffreys. One of my first acts was to
turn over the files of the Star and reread the fol-
lowing account of the great wedding. As it is a
sensational description of a sensational event, I
shall make no apology for the headlines which
startled all Washington the night they appeared.


74 THE FILIGREE BALL
'STARTLING TERMINATION OF THE
JEFFREY-MOORE WEDDING.
THE TRADITIONAL DOOM FOLLOWS THE OPENING OF
THE OLD HOUSE ON WAVERLEY AVENUE.
ONE OF THE GUESTS FOUND LYING DEAD ON THE
LIBRARY HEARTHSTONE-
LETTERS IN HIS POCKET SHOW HIM TO HAVE BEEN
ONE W. PFEIFFER OF DENVER.
NO INTERRUPTION TO THE CEREMONY FOLLOWS
THIS GHASTLY DISCOVERY, BUT THE GUESTS
FLY IN ALL DIRECTIONS AS SOON AS THE
NUPTIAL KNOT IS TIED.
"The festivities attendant upon the wedding of
Miss Veronica Moore to Mr. Francis Jeffrey of
this city met with a startling check to-day. As
most of our readers know, the long-closed house on
Waverley Avenue, which for nearly a century has
been in possession of the bride's family, was opened
for the occasion at the express wish of the bride.
For a week the preparations for this great function
have been going on. When at an early hour
this morning a line of carriages drew up in front
of the historic mansion and the bridal party en-


GOSSIP 75
tered under its once gloomy but now seemingly tri-
umphant portal, the crowds, which blocked the
street from curb to curb, testified to the interest
felt by the citizens of Washington in this daring
attempt to brave the traditions which have marked
this house out as solitary, and by a scene of joyous
festivity make the past forgotten and restore again
to usefulness the decayed grandeurs of an earlier
time. As Miss Moore is one of Washington's most
charming women, and as this romantic effort natu-
rally lent an extraordinary interest to the cere-
mony of her marriage, a large number of our
representative people assembled to witness it, and
by high noon the scene was one of unusual bril-
liancy.
"Halls which had moldered away in an un-
broken silence for years echoed again with laughter
and palpitated to the choicest strains of the Marine
Band. All doors were open save those of the li-
brary—an exception which added a pleasing ex-
citement to the occasion—and when by chance
some of the more youthful guests were caught peer-
ing behind the two Corinthian pillars guarding
these forbidden precincts the memories thus evoked
were momentary and the shadow soon passed.
"The wedding had been set for high noon, and
as the clock in the drawing-room struck the hour
every head was craned to catch the first glimpse of


76 THE FILIGREE BALL
the bride coming down the old-fashioned staircase.
But five minutes, ten minutes, a half-hour, passed
without this expectation being gratified. The
crowd above and below was growing restless, when
suddenly a cry was heard from beyond the gilded
pillars framing the library door, and a young lady
was seen rushing from the forbidden quarter,
trembling with dismay and white with horror. It
was Miss Abbott of Stratford Circle, who in the in-
terim of waiting had allowed her curiosity to mas-
ter her dread, and by one peep into the room, which
seemed to exercise over her the fascination of
a Bluebeard's chamber, discovered the outstretched
form of a man lying senseless and apparently dead
on the edge of the hearthstone. The terror which
instantly spread amongst the guests shows the hold
which superstition has upon all classes of human-
ity. Happily, however, an unseemly panic was
averted, by the necessity which all felt of preserv-
ing some sort of composure till the ceremony for
which they had assembled had been performed.
For simultaneously with this discovery of death in
the library there had come from above the sound
of the approaching bridal procession, and cries
were hushed, and beating hearts restrained, as Miss
Moore's charming face and exquisite figure ap-
peared between the rows of flowering plants with
which the staircase was lined. No need for the


GOSSIP Tt
murmur to go about, 'Spare the bride! Let noth-
ing but cheer surround her till she is Jeffrey's
wife!' The look of joy which irradiated her
countenance, and gave a fairy-like aspect to her
whole exquisite person would have deterred the
most careless and self-centered person there from
casting a shadow across her pathway one minute
sooner than necessity demanded. The richness of
the ancestral veil which covered her features and the
natural timidity which prevents a bride from lift-
ing her eyes from the floor she traverses saved her
from observing the strange looks by which her
presence was hailed. She was consequently en-
abled to go through the ceremony in happy un-
consciousness of the forced restraint which held
that surging mass together.
"But the bridesmaids were not so happy. Miss
Tuttle especially held herself upright simply by
the exercise of her will; and though resplendent in
beauty, suffered so much in her anxiety for the
bride that it was a matter of small surprise when
she fainted at the conclusion of the ceremony.
"Mr. Jeffrey showed more composure, but the
inward excitement under which he was laboring
made him trip more than once in his responses, as
many there noted whose minds were not fixed too
strongly on flight.
"Only Doctor Auchincloss was quite himself,


78 THE FILIGREE BALL
and by means of the solemnity with which he in-
vested his words kept the hubbub down, which was
already making itself heard on the outskirts of the
crowd. But even his influence did not prevail be-
yond the moment devoted to the benediction. Once
the sacred words were said, such a stampede fol-
lowed that the bride showed much alarm, and it was
left for Mr. Jeffrey to explain to her the cause of
this astonishing conduct on the part of her guests.
She bore the disclosure well, all things considered,
and once she was fully assured that the unhappy
man whose sudden death had thus interrupted the
festivities was an intruder upon the scene, and
quite unknown, not only to herself but to her newly-
made husband, she brightened perceptibly, though,
like every one around her, she seemed anxious to
leave the house, and, indeed, did so as soon as Miss
Tuttle's condition warranted it.
"The fact that the bride went through the cere-
mony without her bridal bouquet is looked upon
by many as an unfavorable omen. In her anxiety
not to impose any longer upon the patience of her
guests, she had descended without it.
"As to the deceased, but little is known of him.
Letters found on his person prove his name to be
W. PfeifFer, and his residence Denver. His pres-
ence in Miss Moore's house at a time so inoppor-
tune is unexplained. No such name is on the list


Gossip 79
of wedding guests, nor was he recognized as one
of Miss Moore's friends either by Mr. Jeffrey or
by such of her relatives and acquaintances as had
the courage to enter the library to see him.
"With the exception of the discolored mark on
his temple, showing where his head had come in
contact with the hearthstone, his body presents an
appearance of natural robustness, which makes his
sudden end seem all the more shocking.
"His name has been found registered at the
National Hotel."
Turning over the files, I next came upon the fol-
lowing despatch from Denver:
"The sudden death in Washington of Wallace
Pfeiffer, one of our best known and most respected
citizens, is deeply deplored by all who knew him
and his unfortunate mother. He is the last of her
three sons, all of whom have died within the year.
The demise of Wallace leaves her entirely unpro-
vided for. It was not known here that Mr. Pfeif-
fer intended to visit Washington. He was sup-
posed to go in quite the opposite direction, hav-
ing said to more than one that he had business
in San Francisco. His intrusion into the house of
Miss Moore during the celebration of a marriage in
which he could have taken no personal interest is
explained in the following manner by such as knew


80 THE FILIGREE BALL
his mental peculiarities: Though a merchant by
trade and latterly a miner in the Klondike, he had
great interest in the occult and was a strong be-
liever in all kinds of supernatural manifestations.
He may have heard of the unhappy reputation at-
taching to the Moore house in Washington and,
fascinated by the mystery involved, embraced the
opportunity afforded by open doors and the general
confusion incident to so large a gathering to en-
ter the interesting old place and investigate for
himself the fatal library. The fact of his having
been found secluded in this very room, at a moment
when every other person in the house was pushing
forward to see the bride, lends color to this supposi-
tion; and his sudden death under circumstances
tending to rouse the imagination shows the extreme
sensitiveness of his nature.
"He will be buried here."
The next paragraph was short. Fresher events
were already crowding this three-days-old wonder
to the wall.
"Verdict in the case of Wallace Pfeiffer, found
lying dead on the hearthstone of the old Moore
house library.
"Concussion of the brain, preceded by mental
shock or heart failure.


GOSSIP 81
"The body went on to Denver to-day."
And below, separated by the narrowest of spaces:
"Mr. and Mrs. Francis Jeffrey have decided to
give up their wedding tour and spend their honey-
moon in Washington. They will occupy the Ran-
some house on K Street."
The last paragraph brought me back to the
question then troubling my mind. Was it in the
household of this newly married pair and in the
possible secret passions underlying their union that
one should look for the cause of the murderous
crime I secretly imagined to be hidden behind this
seeming suicide? Or were these parties innocent
and old David Moore the one motive power in pre-
cipitating a tragedy, the result of which had been
to enrich him and impoverish them? Certainly, a
most serious and important question, and one which
any man might be pardoned for attempting to an-
swer, especially if that man was a young detective
lamenting his obscurity and dreaming of a recog-
nition which would yield him fame and the where-
withal to marry a certain clever but mischievous
little minx of whom you are destined to hear more.
But how was that same young detective, ham-
pered as he was, and held in thrall by a fear of ridi-


82 THE FILIGREE BALL
cule and a total lack of record, to get the chance
to push an inquiry requiring opportunities which
could only come by special favor? This was what
I continually asked myself, and always without
result.
True, I might approach the captain or the major
with my story of the tell-tale marks I had dis-
covered in the dust covering the southwest chamber
mantel-shelf, and, if fortunate enough to find that
these had been passed over by the other de-
tectives, seek to gain a hearing thereby and secure
for myself the privileges I so earnestly desired.
But my egotism was such that I wished to be sure
of the hand which had made these marks before I
parted with a secret which, once told, would make
or mar me. Yet to obtain the slight concession of
an interview with any of the principals connected
with this crime would be difficult without the aid of
one or both of my superiors. Even to enter the
house again where but a few hours before I had
made myself so thoroughly at home would require a
certain amount of pluck; for Durbin had been in-
stalled there, and Durbin was a watch-dog whose
bite as well as his bark I regarded with considerable
respect. Yet into that house I must sooner or later
go, if only to determine whether or not I had been
alone in my recognition of certain clues pointing
plainly toward murder. Should I trust my lucky


GOSSIP 88
star and remain for the nonce quiescent? This
seemed a wise suggestion and I decided to adopt it,
comforting myself with the thought that if after a
day or two of modest waiting I failed in obtaining
what I wished, I could then appeal to the lieutenant
of my own precinct. He, I had sometimes felt as-
sured, did not regard me with an altogether un-
favorable eye.
Meantime I spent all my available time in loiter-
ing around newspaper offices and picking up such
stray bits of gossip as were offered. As no ques-
tion had yet been raised of any more serious crime
than suicide, these mostly related to the idiosyn-
crasies of the Moore family and the solitary posi-
tion into which Miss Tuttle had been plunged by
this sudden death of her only relative. As this
beautiful and distinguished young woman had been
and still was a great belle in her special circle, her
present homeless, if not penniless, position led to
many surmises. Would she marry, and, if so, to
which of the many wealthy or prominent men who
had openly courted her would she accord her hand?
In the present egotistic state of my mind I secretly
flattered myself that I was right in concluding that
she would say yes to no man's entreaty till a certain
newly-made widower's year of mourning had ex-
pired.
But this opinion received something of a check


84 THE FILIGREE BALL
when in a quiet talk with a reporter I learned that
it was openly stated by those who had courage to
speak that the tie which had certainly existed at
one time between Mr. Jeffrey and the handsome
Miss Tuttle had been entirely of her own weaving,
and that the person of Veronica Moore, rather than
the large income she commanded, had been the at-
tractive power which had led him away from the
older sister. This seemed improbable; for the
charms of the poor little bride were not to be com-
pared with those of her maturer sister. Yet, as we
all know, there are other attractions than those
offered by beauty. I have since heard it broadly
stated that the peculiar twitch of the lip observable
in all the Moores had proved an irresistible charm
in the unfortunate Veronica, making her a radiant
image when she laughed. This was by no means
a rare occurrence, so they said, before the fancy
took her to be married in the ill-starred home of
her ancestors.
The few lines of attempted explanation which
she had left behind for her husband seemed to im-
pose on no one. To those who knew the young
couple well it was an open proof of her insanity;
to those who knew them slightly, as well as to the
public at large, it was a woman's way of expressing
the disappointment she felt in her husband.
That I might the more readily determine which


86 THE FILIGREE BALL
Why this proceeding should have been so dis-
pleasing to their friends report says not; but that
it was so, is evident from the fact that great re-
joicing took place on all sides when Veronica sud-
denly developed into a healthy child and the prob-
ability of David Moore's inheriting the coveted
estate decreased to a minimum. It was not a long
rejoicing, however, for John Judson followed his
wife to the grave before Veronica had reached her
tenth year, leaving her and her half-sister, Cora, to
the guardianship of a crabbed old bachelor who
had been his father's lawyer. This lawyer was
morose and peevish, but he was never positively
unkind. For two years the sisters seemed happy
enough when, suddenly and somewhat peremptor-
ily, they were separated, Veronica being sent
to a western school, where she remained, seemingly
without a single visit east, till she was seventeen.
During this long absence Miss Turtle resided in
Washington, developing under masters into an ac-
complished woman. Veronica's guardian, severe in
his treatment of the youthful owner of the large
fortune of which he had been made sole executor,
was unexpectedly generous to the penniless sister,
hoping, perhaps, in his close, peevish old heart,
that the charms and acquired graces of this lovely
woman would soon win for her a husband in the
brilliant set in which she naturally found herself.


GOSSIP 81
But Cora Tuttle was not easy to please, and the
first men of Washington came and went before her
eyes without awakening in her any special interest
till she met Francis Jeffrey, who stole her heart with
a look.
Those who remember her that winter say that
under his influence she developed from a handsome
woman into a lovely one. Yet no engagement was
announced, and society was wondering what held
Francis Jeffrey back from so great a prize, when
Veronica Moore came home, and the question was
forever answered.
Veronica was now nearly eighteen, and during
her absence had blossomed into womanhood. Sin
was not as beautiful as her sister, but she had a
bright and pleasing expression with enough spice
in her temperament to rob her girlish features
of insipidity and make her conversation witty,
if not brilliant. Yet when Francis Jeffrey turned
his attentions from Miss Tuttle and fixed them
without reserve, or seeming shame, upon this
pretty butterfly, but one term could be found to
characterize the proceeding, and that was, fortune
hunting. Of small but settled income, he had hith-
erto shown a certain contentment with his condition
calculated to inspire respect and make his atten-
tions to Miss Tuttle seem both consistent and ap-
propriate. But no sooner did Veronica's bright


88 THE FILIGREE BALL
eyes appear than he fell at the young heiress' feet
and pressed his suit so close and fast that in two
months they were engaged and at the end of the
half-year, married—with the disastrous conse-
quences just made known.
So much for the general gossip of the town.
Now for the special.
A certain gentleman, whom it is unnecessary to
name, had been present at one critical instant in the
lives of these three persons. He was not a scandal-
monger, and if everything had gone on happily,—
if Veronica had lived and Cora settled down into
matrimony,—he would never have mentioned what
he heard and saw one night in the great drawing-
room of a hotel in Atlantic City.
It was at the time when the engagement was
first announced between Jeffrey and the young
heiress. This and bis previous attentions to Cora
had made much talk, both in Washington and
elsewhere, and there were not lacking those who
had openly twitted him for his seeming incon-
stancy. This had been over the cups of course,
and Jeffrey had borne it well enough from his
so-called friends and intimates. But when, on a
certain evening in the parlor of one of the large
hotels in Atlantic City, a fellow whom nobody
knew and nobody liked accused him of knowing
on which side his bread was buttered, and that cer-
tainly it was not on the side of beauty and superior


GOSSIP 89
attainments, Jeffrey got angry. Heedless of who
might be within hearing, he spoke up very plainly
in these words: "You are all of a kind, rank
money-worshipers and self-seekers, or you would
not be so ready to see greed in my admiration for
Miss Moore. Disagreeable as I find it to air my
sentiments in this public manner, yet since you pro-
voke me to it, I will say once and for all, that I am
deeply in love with Miss Moore, and that it is for
this reason only I am going to marry her.
Were she the penniless girl her sister is, and Miss
Tuttle the proud possessor of the wealth which, in
your eyes, confers such distinction upon Miss
Moore, you would still see me at the latter's feet,
and at hers only. Miss Tuttle's charms are not
potent enough to hold the heart which has once
been fixed by her sister's smile."
This was pointed enough, certainly, but when at
the conclusion of his words a tall figure rose from a
near corner and Cora Tuttle passed the amazed
group with a bow, I dare warrant that not one of
the men composing it but wished himself a hun-
dred miles away.
Jeffrey himself was chagrined, and made a move
to follow the woman he had so publicly scorned,
but the look she cast back at him was one to re-
member, and he hesitated. What was there left for
him to say, or even to do? The avowal had been
made in all its bald frankness and nothing could


90 THE FILIGREE BALL
alter it. As for her, she behaved beautifully, and
by no word or look, so far as the world knew, ever
showed that her woman's pride, if not her heart,
had been cut to the quick, by the one man she
adored.
With this incident filling my mind, I returned
to Washington. I had acquainted myself with
the open facts of this family's history; but what
of its inner life? Who knew it? Did any one?
Even the man who confided to me the contretemps
in the hotel parlor could not be sure what underlay
Mr. Jeffrey's warm advocacy of the woman he
had elected to marry. He could not even be cer-
tain that he had really understood the feeling
shown by Cora Tuttle when she heard the man, who
had once lavished attentions on her, express in this
public manner a preference for her sister. A
woman has great aptness in concealing a mortal
hurt, and, from what I had seen of this one, I
thought it highly improbable that all was quiet in
her passionate breast because she had turned an
impassive front to the world.
I was becoming confused in the maze of my own
imaginings. To escape the results of this con-
fusion, I determined to drop theory and confine
myself to facts.
And thus passed the first few days succeeding
the tragic discovery in the Moore house.


VII
SLY WORK
The next morning my duty led me directly in
the way of that little friend of mine whom I have
already mentioned. It is strange how often my
duty did lead me in her way.
She is a demure little creature, with wits as bright
as her eyes, which is saying a great deal; and
while, in the course of our long friendship, I had
admired, without making use of the special abili-
ties I saw in her, I felt that the time had now come
when they might prove of inestimable value to me.
Greeting her with pardonable abruptness, I ex-
pressed my wishes in these possibly alarming
words:
"Jinny, you can do something for me. Find
out—I know you can, and that, too, without arous-
ing suspicion or compromising either of us—where
Mr. Moore, of Waverley Avenue, buys his grocer-
ies, and when you have done that, whether or not
he has lately resupplied himself with candles."
The surprise which she showed had a touch of
naivete in it which was very encouraging.
91


92 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Mr. Moore?" she cried, "the uncle of her who
who—"
"The very same," I responded, and waited for
her questions without adding a single word in way
of explanation.
She gave me a look—oh, what a look! It was as
encouraging to the detective as it was welcome to
the lover; after which she nodded, once in doubt,
once in question and once in frank and laughing
consent, and darted off.
I thanked Providence for such a self-contained
little aide-de-camp and proceeded on my way, in a
state of great self-satisfaction.
An hour later I came upon her again. It is
really extraordinary how frequently the paths of
some people cross.
"Well?" I asked.
"Mr. Moore deals with Simpkins, just two blocks
away from his house; and only a week ago he
bought some candles there."
I rewarded her with a smile which summoned into
view the most exasperating of dimples.
"You had better patronize Simpkins yourself
for a little while," I suggested; and by the arch
glance with which my words were received, I per-
ceived that my meaning was fully understood.
Experiencing from this moment an increased
confidence, not only in the powers of my little


SLY WORK 93
friend, but in the line of investigation thus hap-
pily established, I cast about for means of settling
the one great question which was a necessary pre-
liminary to all future action: Whether the marks
detected by me in the dust of the mantel in the
southwest chamber had been made by the hand of
him who had lately felt the need of candles, albeit
his house appeared to be fully lighted by gas?
The subterfuge by which, notwithstanding my
many disadvantages, I was finally enabled to obtain
an unmistakable answer to this query was the
fruit of much hard thought. Perhaps I was too
proud of it. Perhaps I should have mistrusted
myself more from the start. But I was a great
egotist in those days, and reckoned quite above
their inherent worth any bright ideas which I could
safely call my own.
The point aimed at was this: to obtain without
Mr. Moore's knowledge an accurate impression of
his finger-tips.
The task presented difficulties, but these served
only to increase my ardor.
Confiding to the lieutenant of the precinct
my great interest in the mysterious house with
whose suggestive interior I had made myself ac-
quainted under such tragic circumstances, I asked
him -as a personal favor to obtain for me an
opportunity of spending another night there.


9* THE FILIGREE BALL
He was evidently surprised by the request, not
cherishing, as I suppose, any great longings himself
in this direction; but recognizing that for some rea-
son I set great store on this questionable privilege,
—I do not think that he suspected in the least what
that reason was,—and being, as I have intimated,
favorably disposed to me, he exerted himself to
such good effect that I was formally detailed to
assist in keeping watch over the premises that very
night.
I think that it was at this point I began to reckon
on the success which, after many failures and some
mischances, was yet to reward my efforts.
As I prepared to enter the old house at night-
fall, I allowed myself one short glance across the
way to see if my approach had been observed by
the man whose secret, if secret he had, I was laying
plans to surprise. I was met by a sight I had
not expected. Pausing on the pavement in front
of me stood a handsome elderly gentleman whose
appearance was so fashionable and thoroughly up
to date, that I should have failed to recognize
him if my glance had not taken in at the same
instant the figure of Rudge crouching obstinately
on the edge of the curb where he had evidently
posted himself in distinct refusal to come any far-
ther. In vain his master,—for the well-dressed


SLY WORK 95
man before me was no less a personage than the
whilom butt of all the boys between the Capitol
and the Treasury building,—signaled and com-
manded him to cross to his side; nothing could in-
duce the mastiff to budge from that quarter of the
street where he felt himself safe.
Mr. Moore, glorying in the prospect of unlimited
wealth, presented a startling contrast in more ways
than one to the poverty-stricken old man whose
curious garb and lonely habits had made him an
object of ridicule to half the town. I own that I
was half amused and half awed by the condescend-
ing bow with which he greeted my offhand nod and
the affable way in which he remarked:
"You are making use of your prerogatives as a
member of the police, I see."
The words came as easily from his lips as if his
practice in affability had been of the very longest.
"I wonder how the old place enjoys its present
distinction," he went on, running his eye over the
dilapidated walls under which we stood, with very
evident pride in their vast proportions and the air
of gloomy grandeur which signalized them. "If it
partakes in the slightest degree of the feelings of
its owner, I can vouch for its impatience at the
free use which is made of its time-worn rooms and
halls. Are these intrusions necessary? Now that


96 THE FILIGREE BALL
Mrs. Jeffrey's body has been removed, do you feel
that the scene of her demise need hold the atten-
tion of the police any longer?"
"That is a question to put to the superintendent
and not to me," was my deprecatory reply. "The
major has issued no orders for the watch to be
taken off, so we men have no choice. I am sorry if
it offends you. Doubtless a few days will end the
matter and the keys will be given into your hand.
I suppose you are anxious to move in?"
He cast a glance behind him at his dog, gave a
whistle which passed unheeded, and replied with
dignity, if but little heart:
"When a man has passed his seventh decade he
is not apt to be so patient with delay as when he
has a prospect of many years before him. I am
anxious to enter my own house, yes; I have much
to do there."
I came very near asking him what, but feared
to seem too familiar, in case he was the cold but
upright man he would fain appear, and too inter-
ested and inquiring if he were the whited sepulcher
I secretly considered him. So with a nod a trifle
more pronounced than if I had been unaffected by
either hypothesis, I remounted the steps, carelessly
remarking:
"I'll see you again after taking a turn through
the house. If I discover anything—ghost marks


SLY WORK 97
or human marks which might be of interest to you—
I'll let you know."
Something like a growl answered me. But
whether it came from master or dog, I did not stop
to inquire. I had serious work before me; very seri-
ous, considering that it was to be done on my own
responsibility and without the knowledge of my
superiors. But I was sustained by the thought
that no whisper of murder had as yet been heard
abroad or at headquarters, and that consequently
I was interfering in no great case; merely trying
to formulate one.
It was necessary, for the success of my plan,
that some time should elapse before I reapproached
Mr. Moore. I therefore kept my word to him
and satisfied my own curiosity by taking a fresh
tour through the house. Naturally, in doing this,
I visited the library. Here all was dark. The
faint twilight still illuminating the streets failed
to penetrate here. I was obliged to light my
lantern.
My first glance was toward the fireplace. Ven-
turesome hands had been there. Not only had the
fender been drawn out and the grate set aside,
but the huge settle had been wrenched free from the
mantel and dragged into the center of the room.
Rather pleased at this change, for with all my ap-
parent bravado I did not enjoy too close a proxim-


98 THE FILIGREE BALL
ity to the cruel hearthstone, I stopped to give this
settle a thorough investigation. The result was
disappointing. To all appearance—and I did not
spare it the experiment of many a thump and
knock— it was a perfectly innocuous piece of fur-
niture, clumsy of build, but solid and absolutely
devoid of anything that could explain the trag-
edies which had occurred so near it. I even sat
down on its musty old cushion and shut my eyes,
but was unrewarded by alarming visions, or dis-
turbance of any sort. Nor did the floor where it
had stood yield any better results to the inquiring
eye. Nothing was to be seen there but the marks
left by the removal of its base from the blackened
boards.
Disgusted with myself, if not with this object
of my present disappointment, I left that portion
of the room in which it stood and crossed to where
I had found the little table on the night of Mrs.
Jeffrey's death. It was no longer there. It had
been set back against the wall where it properly
belonged, and the candelabrum removed. Nor was
the kitchen chair any longer to be seen near the
book shelves. This fact, small as it was, caused
me an instant of chagrin. I had intended to look
again at the book which I had examined with such
unsatisfactory results the time before. A glance
showed me that this book had been pushed back


SLY WORK 99
level with the others; but I remembered its title,
and, had the means of reaching it been at hand, I
should certainly have stolen another peep at it.
Upstairs I found the same signs of police inter-
ference. The shutter had been fastened in the
southwest room, and the bouquet and wrap taken
away from the bed. The handkerchief, also, was
missing from the mantel where I had left it, and
when I opened the closet door, it was to find the floor
bare and the second candelabrum and candle re-
moved.
"All gone," thought I; "each and every clue."
But I was mistaken. In another moment I came
upon the minute filings I had before observed scat-
tered over a small stand. Concluding from this
that they had been passed over by Durbin and his'
associates as valueless, I swept them, together with
the dust in which they lay, into an old envelope
I happily found in my pocket. Then I crossed
to the mantel and made a close inspection of its
now empty shelf. The scratches which I had made
there were visible enough, but the impressions for
which they stood had vanished in the handling
which everything in the house had undergone. Re-
garding with great thankfulness the result of my
own foresight, I made haste to leave the room. I
then proceeded to take my first steps in the ticklish
experiment by which I hoped to determine whether


SLY WORK 101
bringing news. Has anything fresh happened in
the old house?"
I assumed a frankness which seemed to impose on
him.
"Do you know," I sententiously informed him,
"I have a wonderful interest in that old hearth-
stone; or rather in the seemingly innocent engrav-
ing hanging over it, of Benjamin Franklin at the
Court of France. I tell you frankly that I had no
idea of what would be found behind the picture."
I saw, by his quick look, that I had stirred up a
hornets' nest. This was just what I had calcu-
lated to do.
"Behind it!" he repeated. "There is nothing
behind it."
I laughed, shrugged my shoulders, and backed
slowly toward the door.
"Of course, you should know," I retorted, with
some condescension. Then, as if struck by a sud-
den remembrance: "Oh, by the way, have you been
told that there is a window on that lower floor which
does not stay fastened? I speak of it that you may
have it repaired as soon as the police vacate. It's
the last one in the hall leading to the negro quar-
ters. If you shake it hard enough, the catch falls
back and any one can raise it even from the out-
side."
"I will see to it," he replied, dropping his eyes,


102 THE FILIGREE BALL
possibly to hide their curious twinkle. "But what
do you mean about finding something in the wall
behind that old picture? I've never heard—"
But though he spoke quickly and shouted the last
words after me at the top of his voice, I was by
this time too far away to respond save by a dubious
smile and a semi-patronizing wave of the hand.
Not until I was nearly out of earshot did I venture
to shout back the following words:
"I'll be back—in an hour. If anything hap-
pens—if the boys annoy you, or any one attempts
to enter the old house, telephone to the station or
summon the officer at the corner. I don't believe
any harm will come from leaving the place to itself
for a while." Then I walked around the block.
When I arrived in front again it was quite dark.
So was the house; but there was light in the libra-
ry. I felt assured that I should find Uncle
David there, and I did. When, after a noiseless
entrance and a careful advance through the hall,
I threw open the door beyond the gilded pillars,
it was to see the tall figure of this old man mounted
upon the chair I had left there, peering up at the
nail from which I had so lately lifted the picture.
He started as I presented myself and almost fell
from the chair. But the careless laugh I uttered
assured him of the little importance I placed
upon this evidence of his daring and unappeasable


SLY WORK 103
curiosity, and he confronted me with an enviable
air of dignity; whereupon I managed to say:
"Really, Mr. Moore, I'm glad to see you here.
It is quite natural for you to wish to learn by any
means in your power what that picture concealed.
I came back, because I suddenly remembered that
I had forgotten to rehang it."
Involuntarily he glanced again at the wall over-
head, which was as bare as his hand, save for the
nail he had already examined.
"It has concealed nothing," he retorted. "You
can see yourself that the wall is bare and that it
rings as sound as any chimneypiece ever made."
Here he struck it heavily with his fist. "What did
you imagine that you had found?"
I smiled, shrugged my shoulders in tantalizing
repetition of my former action upon a like occa-
sion and then answered brusquely:
"I did not come back to betray police secrets,
but to restore this picture to its place. Or perhaps
you prefer to have it down rather than up? It
isn't much of an ornament."
He scrutinized me darkly from over his shoulder,
a wary gleam showing itself in his shrewd old eyes;
and the idea crossed me that the moment might
possess more significance than appeared. But I did
not step backward, nor give evidence in any way
that I had even thought of danger, I simply laid


104 THE FILIGREE BALL
my hand on the picture and looked up at him for
orders.
He promptly signified that he wished it hung,
adding as I hesitated these words: "The pic-
tures in this house are supposed to stay on the
walls where they belong. There is a traditional
superstition against removing them."
I immediately lifted the print from the floor. No
doubt he had me at a disadvantage, if evil was in his
heart, and my position on the hearth was as danger-
ous as previous events had proved it to be. But it
would not do to show the white feather at a moment
when his fate, if not my own, hung in the balance;
so motioning him to step down, I put foot on the
chair and raised the picture aloft to hang it. As
I did so, he moved over to the huge settle of his
ancestors, and, crossing his arms over its back,
surveyed me with a smile I rather imagined than
saw.
Suddenly, as I strained to put the cord over the
nail he called out:
"Look out! you'll fall."
If he had intended to give me a start in payment
for my previous rebuff he did not succeed; for my
nerves had grown steady and my arm firm at the
glimpse I had caught of the shelf below me. The
fine brown powder I had scattered there had been
displaced in five distinct spots, and not by my


VIII
SLYER WORK
Let me repeat. The person who had left the
marks of his presence in the upper chamber of the
Moore house was not the man popularly known as
Uncle David. Who, then, had it been? But one
name suggested itself to me,—Mr. Jeffrey.
It was not so easy for me to reach this man as it
had been for me to reach his singular and un-
imaginative uncle. In the first place, his door had
been closed to every one since his wife's death.
Neither friends nor -strangers could gain ad-
mittance there unless they came vested with au-
thority from the coroner. And this, even if I
could manage to obtain it, would not answer in
my case. What I had to say and do would bet-
ter follow a chance encounter. But no chance
encounter with this gentleman seemed likely
to fall to my lot, and finally I swallowed my pride
and asked another favor of the lieutenant. Would
he see that I was given an opportunity for carry-
ing some message, or of doing some errand which
106


SLYER WORK 107
would lead to my having an interview with Mr.
Jeffrey? If he would, I stood ready to promise
that my curiosity should stop at this point and
that I would cease to make a nuisance of myself.
I think he suspected me by this time; but he
made no remark, and in a day or so I was summoned
to carry a note to the house in K Street.
Mrs. Jeffrey's funeral had taken place the day
before and the house looked deserted. But my
summons speedily brought a neat-looking, but very
nervous maid to the door, whose eyes took on an
unmistakable expression of resistance when I an-
nounced my errand and asked to see Mr. Jeffrey.
The expression would not have struck me as peculiar
if she had raised any objection to the interview I
had solicited. But she did not. Her fear and antip-
athy, consequently, sprang from some other
source than her interest in the man most threat-
ened by my visit. Was it—could it be, on her own
account? Recalling what I had heard whispered
about the station concerning a maid of the Jef-
freys who always seemed on the point of saying
something which never really left her lips, I stopped
her as she was about to slip upstairs and quietly
asked:
"Are you Loretta?"
The way she turned, the way she looked at me
as she gave me a short affirmative, and then quick-


108 THE FILIGREE BALL
ly proceeded on her way, convinced me that my
colleagues were right as to her being a woman
who had some cause for dreading police interfer-
ence. I instantly made up my mind that here
was a mine to be worked and that I knew just the
demure little soul best equipped to act the part of
miner.
In a moment she came back, and I had a chance
to note again her pretty but expressionless features,
among which the restless eyes alone bespoke char-
acter or decision.
"Mr. Jeffrey is in the back room upstairs," she
announced. "He says for you to come up."
"Is it the room Mrs. Jeffrey used to occupy?"
I asked with open curiosity, as I passed her.
An involuntary shudder proved that she was not
without feeling. So did the quick disclaimer:
"No, no! Those rooms are closed. He occupies
the one Miss Tuttle had before she went away."
"Oh, then, Miss Tuttle is gone?"
Loretta disdained to answer. She had already
said enough to cause her to bite her lip as she dis-
appeared down the basement stair. Decidedly the
boys were right. An uneasy feeling followed any
conversation with this girl. Yet, while there was
slyness in her manner, there was a certain frank
honesty visible in it too, which caused me to think


SLYER WORK 109
that if she could ever be made to speak, her evi-
dence could be relied on.
Mr. Jeffrey was sitting with his back to the door
when I entered, but turned as I spoke his name
and held out his hand for the note I carried. I
had no expectation of his remembering me as one
of the men who had stood about that night in the
Moore house, and I was not disappointed. To
him I was merely a messenger, or common police-
man; and he consequently paid me no attention,
while I bestowed upon him the most concentrated
scrutiny of my whole life. Till now I had seen
him only in half lights, or under circumstances pre-
cluding my getting a very accurate idea of him as
a man and a gentleman. Now he sat with the
broad daylight on his face, and I had every oppor-
tunity for noting both his features and expression.
He was of a distinguished type; but the cloud en-
shrouding him was as heavy as any I had ever seen
darkening about a man of his position and char-
acter. His manner, fettered though it was by
gloomy thoughts, was not just the manner I had
expected to encounter.
He had a large, clear eye, but the veil which
hid the brightness of his regard was misty
with suspicion, not with tears. He appeared to
shrink from observation, and shifted uneasily as


110 THE FILIGREE BALL
long as I stood in front of him, though he said
nothing and did not lift his eyes from the letter
he was perusing till he heard me step back to the
door I had purposely left open and softly close it.
Then he glanced up, with a keen, if not an alarmed
look, which seemed an exaggerated one for the
occasion,—that is, if he had no secret to keep.
"Do you suffer so from drafts?" he asked, ris-
ing in a way which in itself was a dismissal.
I smiled an amused denial, then with the simple
directness I thought most likely to win me his con-
fidence, entered straight upon my business in these
plain words:
"Pardon me, Mr. Jeffrey, I have something to
say which is not exactly fitted for the ears of serv-
ants." Then, as he pushed his chair suddenly
back, I added reassuringly: "It is not a police
matter, sir, but an entirely personal one. It
may strike you as important, and it may not. Mr.
Jeffrey, I was the man who made the unhappy dis-
covery in the Moore mansion, which has plunged
this house into mourning."
This announcement startled him and produced
a visible change in his manner. His eyes flew first
to one door and then to another, as if it were he
who feared intrusion now.
"I beg your pardon for speaking on so painful
a topic," I went on, as soon as I saw he was ready


SLYER WORK 111
to listen to me. "My excuse is that I came upon
a little thing that same night which I have not
thought of sufficient importance to mention to any
one else, but which it may interest you to hear
about."
Here I took from a book I held, a piece of blot-
ting-paper. It was white on one side and blue on
the other. The white side I had thickly chalked,
though this was not apparent. Laying down this
piece of blotting-paper, chalked side up, on the
end of a large table near which we were standing,
I took out an envelope from my pocket, and, shak-
ing it gently to and fro, remarked:
"In an upper room of the Moore house—you re-
member the southwest chamber, sir?"
Ah! didn't he! There was no misdoubting the
quick emotion—the shrinking and the alarm with
which he heard this room mentioned.
"It was in that room that I found these."
Tipping up the envelope, I scattered over the
face of the blotter a few of the glistening particles
I had collected from the place mentioned.
He bent over them, astonished. Then, as was
natural, brushed them together in a heap with the
tips of his fingers, and leaned to look again, just as
I breathed a heavy sigh which scattered them far
and wide.
Instinctively, he withdrew his hand; whereupon


SLYER WORK 113
his hand from the blotter. "It's but a trifle, not
worth our attention. But I thank you just the same
for bringing it to my notice."
And again his manner became a plain dismissal.
This time I accepted it as such without question.
Carelessly restoring the piece of blotting-paper
to the book from which I had taken it, I made a bow
and withdrew toward the door. He seemed to be
thinking, and the deep furrows which I am sure had
been lacking from his brow a week previous, became
startlingly visible. Finally he observed:
"Mrs. Jeffrey was not in her right mind when she
so unhappily took her life. I see now that the
change in her dates back to her wedding day, con-
sequently any little peculiarity she may have shown
at that time is not to be wondered at."
"Certainly not," I boldly ventured; "if such pe-
culiarities were shown after the fright given her by
the catastrophe which took place in the library."
His eyes, which were fixed on mine, flashed, and
his hands closed convulsively.
"We will not consider the subject," he muttered,
reseating himself in the chair from which he had
risen.
I bowed again and went out. I did not dwell on
the interview in my own mind nor did I allow myself
to draw any conclusions from it, till I had carried
the blotter into the southwest chamber of the Moore


114 THE FILIGREE BALL
house and carefully compared the impressions made
on it with the marks I had scratched on the sur-
face of the mantel-shelf. This I did by laying the
one over the other, after having made holes where
his finger-tips had touched the blotter.
The holes in the blotter and the marks outlined
upon the shelf coincided exactly.


IX
JINNY
I have already mentioned the man whom I se-
cretly looked upon as standing between me and all
preferment. He was a good-looking fellow, but
he wore a natural sneer which for some reason I
felt to be always directed toward myself. This
sneer grew pronounced about this time, and that
was the reason, no doubt, why I continued to work
as long as I did in secret. I dreaded the open
laugh of this man, a laugh which always seemed
hovering on his lips and which was only held in
restraint by the awe we all felt of the maj or.
Notwithstanding, I made one slight move. En-
countering the deputy-coroner, I ventured to ask if
he was quite satisfied with the evidence collected
in the Jeffrey case.
His surprise did not prevent him from asking
my reasons for this question.
I replied to this effect:
"Because I have a little friend, winsome enough
and subtile enough to worm the truth out of the
115


116 THE FILIGREE BALL
devil. I hear that the girl Loretta is suspected of
knowing more about this unfortunate tragedy
than she is willing to impart. If you wish this lit-
tle friend of mine to talk to her, I will see that she
does so and does so with effect."
The deputy-coroner looked interested.
"Whom do you mean by 'little friend' and what
is her name?"
"I will send her to you."
And I did.
The next day I was standing on the corner of
Vermont Avenue when I saw Jinny advancing from
the house in K Street. She was chipper, and she
was smiling in a way which made me say to myself:
"It is fortunate that Durbin is not here."
For Jinny's one weakness is her lack of power to
hide the satisfaction she takes in any detective
work that comes her way. I had told her of this
and had more than once tried to impress upon her
that her smile was a complete give-away, but I
noticed that if she kept it from her lips, it forced
its way out of her eyes, and if she kept it out of her
eyes, it beamed like an inner radiance from her
whole face. So I gave up the task of making her
perfect and let her go on smiling, glad that she
had such frequent cause for it.
This morning her smile had a touch of pride in


JINNY 117
it as well as of delight, and noting this, I re-
marked:
"You have made Loretta talk."
Her head went up and a demure dimple appeared
in her cheek.
"What did she say?" I urged. "What has she
been keeping back?"
"You will have to ask the coroner. My orders
were strict to bring the results of my interview
immediately to him."
"Does that include Durbin?"
"Does it include you?"
"I am afraid not."
"You are right; but why shouldn't it include
you?"
"What do you mean, Jinny?"
"Why do you keep your own counsel so long?
You have ideas about this crime, I know. Why not
mention them?"
"Jinny!"
"A word to the wise is sufficient;" she laughed
and turned her pretty face toward the coroner's
office. But she was a woman and could not help
glancing back, and, meeting my dubious look, she
broke into an arch smile and naively added this re-
mark: "Loretta is a busybody ashamed of her own
curiosity. So much there can be no harm in tell-


118 THE FILIGREE BALL
ing you. When one's knowledge has been gained
by lingering behind doors and peeping through
cracks, one is not so ready to say what one has seen
and heard. Loretta is in that box, and being more
than a little scared of the police, was glad to let
her anxiety and her fears overflow into a sympa-
thizing ear. Won't she be surprised when she is
called up some fine day by the coroner! I wonder if
she will blame me for it?"
"She will never think of doing so," I basely as-
sured my little friend, with an appreciative glance
at her sparkling eye and dimpled cheek.
The arch little creature started to move off
again. As she did so, she cried: "Be good, and
don't let Durbin cut in on you;" but stopped for
the second time when half across the street, and
when, obedient to her look, I hastily rejoined her,
she whispered demurely: "Oh, I forgot to tell you
something that I heard this morning, and which
nobody but yourself has any right to know. I
was following your commands and buying grocer-
ies at Simpkins', when just as I was coming out
with my arms full, I heard old Mr. Simpkins men-
tion Mr. Jeffrey's name and with such interest
that I naturally wanted to hear what he had to
say. Having no real excuse for staying, I poked
my finger into a bag of sugar I was carrying,
till the sugar ran out and I had to wait till it


JINNY
119
was put up again. This did not take long, but it
took long enough for me to hear the old grocer say
that he knew Mr. Jeffrey, and that that gentle-
man had come into his shop only a day or two be-
fore his wife's death, to buy—candles !"
The archness with which this was said, together
with the fact itself, made me her slave forever. As
her small figure faded from sight down the ave-
nue, I decided to take her advice and follow up
whatever communication she had to make to the
coroner by a confession of my own suspicions and
what they had led me into. If he laughed—well,
I could stand it. It was not the coroner's laugh,
nor even the major's, that I feared; it was Dur-
bin's.


FRANCIS JEFFREY 121
elusion he spoke of had failed to strike me. Why?
It was a perfectly obvious one, as obvious as that
the candle had been blown out by another breath
than hers; yet, absorbed in my own train of
thought, I had completely overlooked it. The cor-
oner observing my embarrassment, smiled, and my
humiliation was complete—or would have been
had Durbin been there, but fortunately he was not.
"I am a fool," I cried. "I thought I had dis-
covered something. I might have known that there
were keener minds than mine in this office—"
"Easy! easy!" was the good-natured interrup-
tion. "You have done well. If I did not think so, I
would not keep you here a minute. As it is, I am
disposed to let you see that in a case like this, one
man must not expect to monopolize all the honors.
This matter of the bow of ribbon would strike any
old and experienced official. I only wonder that
we have not seen it openly discussed in the papers."
Taking a box from his desk, he opened it and
held it out toward me. A coil of white ribbon sur-
mounted by a crisp and dainty bow met my eyes.
"You recognize it?" he asked.
Indeed I did.
"It was cut from her wrist by my deputy. Miss
Tuttle wished him to untie it, but he preferred to
leave the bow intact. Now lift it out. Careful,
man, don't soil it; you will see why in a minute."


122 THE FILIGREE BALL
As I held the ribbon up, he pointed to some spots
on its fresh white surface. "Do you see those?" he
asked. "Those are dust-marks, and they were
made as truly by some one's fingers, as the impres-
sions you noted on the mantel-shelf in the upper
chamber. This pistol was tied to her wrist after
the deed; possibly by that same hand."
It was my own conclusion but it did not sound as
welcome to me from his lips as I had expected.
Either my nature is narrow, or my inordinate jeal-
ousy lays me open to the most astonishing inconsis-
tencies; for no sooner had he spoken these words
than I experienced a sudden revulsion against my
own theory and the suspicions which it threw upon
the man whom an hour before I was eager to pro-
claim a criminal.
But Coroner Z. gave me no chance for making
such a fool of myself. Rescuing the ribbon from
my hands, which no doubt were running a little too
freely over its snowy surface, he smiled with the
indulgence proper from such a man to a novice
like myself, and observed quite frankly:
"You will consider these observations as confi-
dential. You know how to hold your tongue; that
you have proved. Hold it then a little longer.
The case is not yet ripe. Mr. Jeffrey is a man of
high standing, with a hitherto unblemished repu-
tation. It won't do, my boy, to throw the doubt of


FRANCIS JEFFREY 123
so hideous a crime upon so fine a gentleman without
ample reason. That no such mistake may be made
and that he may have every opportunity for clear-
ing himself, I am going to have a confidential talk
with him. Do you want to be present?"
I flushed again; but this time from extreme sat-
isfaction.
"I am obliged for your confidence," said I;
then, with a burst of courage born of his good na-
ture, I inquired with due respect if my little friend
had answered his expectations. "Was she as clever
as I said?" I asked.
"Your little friend is a trump," was his blunt
reply. "With what we have learned through her
and now through you, we can approach Mr. Jeffrey
to some purpose. It appears that, before leaving
the house on that Tuesday morning, he had an in-
terview with his wife which ought in some way to
account for this tragedy. Perhaps he will tell us
about it, and perhaps he will explain how he came
to wander through the Moore house while his wife
lay dying below. At all events we will give him the
opportunity to do so and, if possible, to clear up
mysteries which provoke the worst kind of con-
jecture. It is time. The ideas advanced by the
papers foster superstition; and superstition is
the devil. Go and tell my man out there that I am
going to K Street. You may say 'we' if you like,"


124. THE FILIGREE BALL
he added with a humor more welcome to me than
any serious concession.
Did I feel set up by this? Rather.
Mr. Jeffrey was expecting us. This was evident
from his first look, though the attempt he made at
surprise was instantaneous and very well feigned.
Indeed, I think he was in a constant state of appre-
hension during these days and that no inroad of the
police would have astonished him. But expectation
does not preclude dread; indeed it tends to foster
it, and dread was in his heart. This he had no
power to conceal.
"To what am I indebted for this second visit
from you?" he asked of Coroner Z., with an admir-
able presence of mind. "Are you not yet satisfied
with what we have been able to tell you of my poor
wife's unhappy end?"
"We are not," was the plain response. "There
are some things you have not attempted to explain,
Mr. Jeffrey. For instance, why you went to the
Moore house previous to your being called there
by the death of your wife."
It was a shot that told; an arrow which found
its mark. Mr. Jeffrey flushed, then turned pale,
rallied and again lost himself in a maze of conflict-
ing emotions from which he only emerged to say:
"How do you know that I was there? Have I
said so; or do those old walls babble in their sleep?"


FRANCIS JEFFREY 125
"Old walls have been known to do this," was
the grave reply. "Whether they had anything
to say in this case is at present quite imma-
terial. That you were where I charge you with
being is evident from your own manner. May I
then ask if you have anything to say about this
visit? When a person has died under such peculiar
circumstances as Mrs. Jeffrey, everything bearing
upon the case is of interest to the coroner."
I was sorry he added that last sentence; sorry
that he felt obliged to qualify his action by any-
thing savoring of apology; for the time spent in
its utterance afforded his agitated hearer an op-
portunity not only of collecting himself but of pre-
paring an answer for which he would not have been
ready an instant before.
"Mrs. Jeffrey's death was a strange one," her
husband admitted with tardy self-control. "I find
myself as much at a loss to understand it as you
do, and am therefore quite ready to answer the
question you have so openly broached. Not that
my answer has any bearing upon the point you
wish to make, but because it is your due and my
pleasure. I did visit the Moore house, as I cer-
tainly had every right to do. The property was
my wife's, and it was for my interest to learn, if I
could, the secret of its many crimes."
"Ah!"


126 THE FILIGREE BALL
Mr. Jeffrey looked quickly up. "You think that
an odd thing for me to do?"
"At night. Yes."
"Night is the time for such work. I did not care
to be seen pottering around there in daylight."
"No? Yet it would have been so much easier.
You would not have had to buy candles or carry a
pistol or—''
"I did not carry a pistol. The only pistol car-
ried there was the one with which my demented wife
chose to take her life. I do not understand this
allusion."
"It grew out of a misunderstanding of the sit-
uation, Mr. Jeffrey; excuse me if I supposed you
would be likely to provide yourself with some means
of defense in venturing alone upon the scene of so
many mysterious deaths."
"I took no precaution."
"And needed none, I suppose."
"And needed none."
"When was this visit paid, Mr. Jeffrey? Be-
fore or after your wife pulled the trigger which
ended her life? You need not hesitate to answer."
"I do not." The elegant gentleman before us
had acquired a certain fierceness. "Why should I?
Certainly, you don't think that I was there at the
same time she was. It was not on the same night,
even. So much the walla should have told you and


Francis Jeffrey 127
probably did, or my wife's uncle, Mr. David
Moore. Was he not your informant?"
"No; Mr. Moore has failed to call our attention
to this fact. Did you meet Mr. Moore during the
course of your visit to a neighborhood over which
he seems to hold absolute sway?"
"Not to my knowledge. But his house is direct-
ly opposite, and as he has little to do but amuse
himself with what he can see from his front win-
dow, I concluded that he might have observed me
going in."
"You entered by the front door, then?"
"How else?"
"And on what night?"
Mr. Jeffrey made an effort. These questions
were visibly harassing him.
"The night before the one—the one which—
ended all my earthly happiness," he added in a low
voice.
Coroner Z. cast a glance at me. I remembered
the lack of dust on the nest of little tables from
which the upper one had been drawn forward to
hold the candelabrum, and gently shook my head.
The coroner's eyebrows went up, but none of his
disbelief crept into his voice as he made this addi-
tional statement:
"The night on which you failed to return to
your own house."


128 THE FILIGREE BALL
Instantly Mr. Jeffrey betrayed by a nervous ac-
tion, which was quite involuntary, that his outward
calm was slowly giving way under a fire of ques-
tions for which he had no ready reply.
"It was odd, your not going home that night,"
the coroner coldly pursued. "The misunderstand-
ing you had with your wife immediately after
breakfast must have been a very serious one; more
serious than you have hitherto acknowledged."
"I had rather not discuss the subject," protested
Mr. Jeffrey. Then as if he suddenly recognized the
official character of his interlocutor, he hastily
added: "Unless you positively request me to do so;
in which case I must."
"I am afraid that I must insist upon it," re-
turned the other. "You will find that it will be
insisted upon at the inquest, and if you do not wish
to subject yourself to much unnecessary unpleas-
antness, you had better make clear to us to-day the
cause of that special quarrel which to all intents
and purposes led to your wife's death."
"I will try to do so," returned Mr. Jeffrey,
rising and pacing the room in his intense rest-
lessness. "We did have some words; her conduct
the night before had not pleased me. I am nat-
urally jealous, vilely jealous, and I thought she
was a little frivolous at the German ambassador's
ball. But I had no idea she would take my sharp


FRANCIS JEFFREY 129
speeches so much to heart. I had no idea that she
would care so much or that I should care so much.
A little jealousy is certainly pardonable in a bride-
groom, and if her mind had not already been upset,
she would have remembered how I loved her and
hopefully waited for a reconciliation."
"You did love your wife, then? It was you and
not she who had a right to be jealous? I have
heard the contrary stated. It is a matter of public
gossip that you loved another woman previous to
your acquaintance with Miss Moore; a woman
whom your wife regarded with sisterly affection
and subsequently took into her new home."
"Miss Tuttle?" Mr. Jeffrey stopped in his walk
to fling out this ejaculation. "I admire and respect
Miss Tuttle," he went on to declare, "but I never
loved her. Not as I did my wife," he finished, but
with a certain hard accent, apparent enough to a
sensitive ear.
"Pardon me; it is as difficult for me to put these
questions as it is for you to hear them. Were you
and Miss Tuttle ever engaged?"
I started. This was a question which half of
Washington had been asking itself for the last
three months.
Would Mr. Jeffrey answer it? or, remembering
that these questions were rather friendly than offi-
cial, refuse to satisfy a curiosity which he might


130 THE FILIGREE BALL
well consider intrusive? The set aspect of his fea-
tures promised little in the way of information,
and we were both surprised when a moment later
he responded with a grim emphasis hardly to be ex-
pected from one of his impulsive temperament:
"Unhappily, no. My attentions never went so
far."
Instantly the coroner pounced on the one weak
word which Mr. Jeffrey had let fall.
"Unhappily?" he repeated. "Why do you say,
unhappily?"
Mr. Jeffrey flushed and seemed to come out of
some dream.
"Did I say unhappily?" he inquired. "Well, I
repeat it; Miss Tuttle would never have given me
any cause for jealousy."
The coroner bowed and for the present dropped
her name out of the conversation.
"You speak again of the jealousy aroused in
you by your wife's impetuosities. Was this in-
creased or diminished by the tone of the few lines
she left behind her?"
The response was long in coming. It was hard
for this man to lie. The struggle he made at it
was pitiful. As I noted what it cost him, I began
to have new and curious thoughts concerning him
and the whole matter under discussion.
"I shall never overcome the remorse roused in


FRANCIS JEFFREY 131
me by those few lines," he finally rejoined. "She
showed a consideration for me—"
"What!"
The coroner's exclamation showed all the sur-
prise he felt. Mr. Jeffrey tottered under it, then
grew slowly pale as if only through our amazed
looks he had come to realize the charge of in-
consistency to which he had laid himself open.
"I mean—" he endeavored to explain, "that
Mrs. Jeffrey showed an unexpected tenderness
toward me by taking all the blame of our misun-
derstanding upon herself. It was generous of her
and will do much toward making my memory of
her a gentle one."
He was forgetting himself again. Indeed, his
manner and attempted explanations were full of
contradictions. To emphasize this fact Coroner Z.
exclaimed:
"I should think so! She paid a heavy penalty
for her professed lack of love. You believe that
her mind was unseated?"
"Does not her action show it?"
"Unseated by the mishap occurring at her mar-
riage?"
"Yes."
"You really think that?"
"Yes."
"By anything that passed between you?"


132 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Yes."
"May I ask you to tell us what passed between
you on this point?"
"Yes."
He had uttered the monosyllable so often it
seemed to come unconsciously from his lips. But he
recognized almost as soon as we did that it was
not a natural reply to the last question, and, mak-
ing a gesture of apology, he added, with the same
monotony of tone which had characterized these re-
plies:
"She spoke of her strange guest's unaccountable
death more than once, and whenever she did so, it
was with an unnatural excitement and in an un-
balanced way. This was so noticeable to us all
that the subject presently was tabooed amongst
us; but though she henceforth spared us all allu-
sion to it, she continued to talk about the house it-
self and of the previous deaths which had occurred
there till we were forced to forbid that topic
also. She was never really herself after crossing
the threshold of this desolate house to be married.
The shadow which lurks within its walls fell at that
instant upon her life. May God have mercy—"
The prayer remained unfinished. His head which
had fallen on his breast sank lower.
He presented the aspect of one who is quite done
with life, even its sorrows.


FRANCIS JEFFREY 133
But men in the position of Coroner Z. can not
afford to be compassionate. Everything the be-
reaved man said deepened the impression that he
was acting a part. To make sure that this was
really so, the coroner, with just the slightest touch
of sarcasm, quietly observed:
"And to ease your wife's mind—the wife you
were so deeply angered with—you visited this
house, and, at an hour which you should have spent
in reconciliation with her, went through its ancient
rooms in the hope—of what?"
Mr. Jeffrey could not answer. The words which
came from his lips were mere ejaculations.
"I was restless—mad—I found this adventure
diverting. I had no real purpose in mind."
"Not when you looked at the old picture?"
"The old picture? What old picture?"
"The old picture in the southwest chamber. You
took a look at that, didn't you? Got up on a chair
on purpose to do so?"
Mr. Jeffrey winced. But he made a direct reply.
"Yes, I gave a look at that old picture; got up,
as you say, on a chair to do so. Wasn't that the
freak of an idle man, wandering, he hardly knows
why, from room to room in an old and deserted
house?"
His tormentor did not answer. Probably his
mind was on his next line of inquiry. But Mr.


134 THE FILIGREE BALL
Jeffrey did not take his silence with the calmness
he had shown prior to the last attack. As no word
came from his unwelcome guest, he paused in his
rapid pacing and, casting aside with one impulsive
gesture his hitherto imperfectly held restraint, he
cried out sharply:
"Why do you ask me these questions in tones of
such suspicion? Is it not plain enough that my
wife took her own life under a misapprehension of
my state of mind toward her, that you should feel
it necessary to rake up these personal matters,
which, however interesting to the world at large,
are of a painful nature to me?"
"Mr. Jeffrey," retorted the other, with a sudden
grave assumption of dignity not without its effect
in a case of such serious import, "we do nothing
without purpose. We ask these questions and show
this interest because the charge of suicide which
has hitherto been made against your wife is not
entirely sustained by the facts. At least she was
not alone when she took her life. Some one was in
the house with her."
It was startling to observe the effect of this dec-
laration upon him.
"Impossible!" he cried out in a protest as forci-
ble as it was agonized. "You are playing with my
misery. She could have had no one there; she
would not. There is not a man living before whom


FRANCIS JEFFREY 135
she would have fired that deadly shot; unless it was
myself,—unless it was my own wretched, miserable
self."
The remorseful whisper in which those final
words were uttered carried them to my heart, which
for some strange and unaccountable reason had been
gradually turning toward this man. But my less
easily affected companion, seeing his opportunity
and possibly considering that it was this gentle-
man's right to know in what a doubtful light he
stood before the law, remarked with as light a
touch of irony as was possible:
"You should know better than we in whose pres-
ence she would choose to die—if she did so choose.
Also who would be likely to tie the pistol to her
wrist and blow out the candle when the dreadful
deed was over."
The laugh which seemed to be the only means of
violent expression remaining to this miserable man
was kept down by some amazing thought which
seemed to paralyze him. Without making any at-
tempt to refute a suggestion that fell just short of
a personal accusation, he sank down in the first
chair he came to and became, as it were, lost in
the vision of that ghastly ribbon-tying and the
solitary blowing out of the candle upon this scene
of mournful death. Then with a struggling sense
of having heard something which called for an-


136 THE FILIGREE BALL
swer, he rose blindly to his feet and managed to let
fall these words:
"You are mistaken—no one was there, or if any
one was—it was not I. There is a man in this city
who can prove it."
******
But when Mr. Jeffrey was asked to give the
name of this man, he showed confusion and pres-
ently was obliged to admit that he could neither re-
call his name nor remember anything about him,
but that he was some one whom he knew well, and
who knew him well. He affirmed that the two had
met and spoken near Soldiers' Home shortly after
the sun went down, and that the man would be sure
to remember this meeting if we could only find
him.
As Soldiers' Home was several miles from the
Moore house and quite out of the way of all his
accustomed haunts, Coroner Z. asked him how he
came to be there. He replied that he had just
come from Rock Creek Cemetery. That he had
been in a wretched state of mind all day, and pos-
sibly being influenced by what he had heard of the
yearly vigils Mr. Moore was in the habit of keep-
ing there, had taken a notion to stroll among the
graves, in search of the rest and peace of mind he
had failed to find in his aimless walks about the
city. At least, that was the way he chose to ac-


FRANCIS JEFFREY 137
count for the meeting he mentioned. Falling in-
to reverie again, he seemed to be trying to recall
the name which at this moment was of such im-
portance to him. But it was without avail, as he
presently acknowledged.
"I can not remember who it was. My brain is
whirling, and I can recollect nothing but that this
man and myself left the cemetery together on the
night mentioned, just as the gate was being
closed. As it closes at sundown, the hour can
be fixed to a minute. It was somewhere near seven,
I believe; near enough, I am sure, for it to have been
impossible for me to be at the Moore house at the
time my unhappy wife is supposed to have taken
her life. There is no doubt about your believing
this?" he demanded with sudden haughtiness, as,
rising to his feet, he confronted us in all the pride
of his exceptionally handsome person.
"We wish to believe it," assented the coroner,
rising in his turn. "That our belief may become
certainty, will you let us know, the instant you re-
call the name of the man you talked with at the
cemetery gate? His testimony, far more than any
word of yours, will settle this question which other-
wise may prove a vexed one."
Mr. Jeffrey's hand went up to his head. Was he
acting a part or did he really forget just what it
was for his own best welfare to remember? If he


188 THE FILIGREE BALL
had forgotten, it argued that he was in a state of
greater disturbance on that night than would nat-
urally be occasioned by a mere lover's quarrel with
his wife.
Did the same thought strike my companion? I
can not say; I can only give you his next words.
"You have said that your wife would not be like-
ly to end her life in presence of any one but your-
self. Yet you must see that some one was with her.
How do you propose to reconcile your assertions
with a fact so undeniable?"
"I can not reconcile them. It would madden me
to try. If I thought any one was with her at that
moment—"
"Well?"
Mr. Jeffrey's eyes fell; and a startling change
passed over him. But before either of us could
make out just what this change betokened he re-
covered his aspect of fixed melancholy and quietly
remarked:
"It is dreadful to think of her standing there
alone, aiming a pistol at her young, passionate
heart; but it is worse to picture her doing this
under the gaze of unsympathizing eyes. I can
not and will not so picture her. You have been
misled by appearances or what in police parlance
is called a clue."
Evidently he did not mean to admit the possibil-


FRANCIS JEFFREY 139
ity of the pistol having been fired by any other
hand than her own. This the coroner noted.
Bowing with the respect he showed every man be-
fore a jury had decided upon his guilt, he turned
toward the door out of which I had already hur-
ried.
"We hope to hear from you in the morning,"
he called back significantly, as he stepped down
the stairs.
Mr. Jeffrey did not answer; he was having his
first struggle with the new and terrible prospect
awaiting him at the approaching inquest.





BOOK II
THE LAW AND ITS VICTIM





XI
DETAILS
The days of my obscurity were over. Hence-
forth, I was regarded as a decided factor in this
case—a case which from this time on, assumed an-
other aspect both at headquarters and in the minds
of people at large. The reporters, whom we had
hitherto managed to hold in check, now overflowed
both the coroner's office and police headquarters,
and articles appeared in all the daily papers with
just enough suggestion in them to fire the public
mind and make me, for one, anticipate an imme-
diate word from Mr. Jeffrey calculated to estab-
lish the alibi he had failed to make out on the day
we talked with him. But no such word came. His
memory still played him false, and no alternative
was left but to pursue the official inquiry in the
line suggested by the interview just recounted.
No proceeding in which I had ever been en-
gaged interested me as did this inquest. In the first
place, the spectators were of a very different char-
acter from the ordinary. As I wormed myself
143


144 THE FILIGREE BALL
along to the seat accorded to such witnesses as my-
self, I brushed by men of the very highest station
and a few of the lowest; and bent my head more
than once in response to the inquiring gaze of some
fashionable lady who never before, I warrant, had
found herself in such a scene. By the time I
reached my place all the others were seated and the
coroner rapped for order.
I was first to take the stand. What I said has
already been fully amplified in the foregoing
pages. Of course, my evidence was confined to
facts, but some of these facts were new to most of
the persons there. It was evident that a consid-
erable effect was produced by them, not only on
the spectators, but upon the witnesses themselves.
For instance, it was the first time that the marks on
the mantel-shelf had been heard of outside the
major's office, or the story so told as to make it
evident that Mrs. Jeffrey could not have been alone
in the house at the time of her death.
A photograph had been taken of those marks,
and my identification of this photograph closed my
testimony.
As I returned to my seat I stole a look toward
a certain corner where, with face bent down upon
his hand, Francis Jeffrey sat between Uncle David
and the heavily-veiled figure of Miss Tuttle. Had


DETAILS 145
there dawned upon him as my testimony was given
any suspicion of the trick by which he had been
proved responsible for those marks? It was impos-
sible to tell. From the way Miss Tuttle's head was
turned toward him, one might judge him to be
laboring under an emotion of no ordinary char-
acter, though he sat like a statue and hardly
seemed to realize how many eyes were at that mo-
ment riveted upon his face.
I was followed by other detectives who had been
present at the time and who corroborated my
statement as to the appearance of this unhappy
woman and the way the pistol had been tied to her
arm. Then the doctor who had acted under the
coroner was called. After a long and no doubt
learned description of the bullet wound which had
ended the life of this unhappy lady,—a wound
which he insisted, with a marked display of learn-
ing, must have made that end instantaneous or at
least too immediate for her to move foot or hand
after it,—he was asked if the body showed any
other mark of violence.
To this he replied:
"There was a minute wound at the base of one
of her fingers, the one which is popularly called
the wedding finger."
This statement made all the women present stare


146 THE FILIGREE BALL
with renewed interest; nor was it altogether with-
out point for the men, especially when the doctor
went on to say:
"The hands were entirely without rings. As
Mrs. Jeffrey had been married with a ring, I no-
ticed their absence."
"Was this wound which you characterize as
minute a recent one?"
"It had bled a little. It was an abrasion such
as would be made if the ring she usually wore there
had been drawn off with a jerk. That was the im-
pression I received from its appearance. I do not
state that it was so made."
A little thrill which went over the audience
at the picture this evoked communicated itself
to Miss Tuttle, who trembled violently. It even
produced a slight display of emotion in Mr. Jef-
frey, whose hand shook where he pressed it against
his forehead. But neither uttered a sound, nor
looked up when the next witness was summoned.
This witness proved to be Loretta, who, on hear-
ing her name called, evinced great reluctance to
come forward. But after two or three words ut-
tered in her ear by the friendly Jinny, who had
been given a seat next her, she stepped into the
place assigned her with a suddenly assumed air of
great boldness, which sat upon her with scant


DETAILS 147
grace. She had need of all the boldness at her
command, for the eyes of all in the room were fixed
on her, with the exception of the two persons
most interested in her testimony. Scrutiny of
any kind did not appear to be acceptable to her, if
one could read the trepidation visible in the short,
quick upheavals of the broad collar which covered
her uneasy breast. Was this shrinking on her
part due to natural timidity, or had she failings to
avow which, while not vitiating her testimony,
would certainly cause her shame in the presence of
so many men and women? I was not able to decide
this question immediately; for after the coroner
had elicited her name and the position she held in
Mr. Jeffrey's household he asked whether her du-
ties took her into Mrs. Jeffrey's room; upon her
replying that they did, he further inquired if she
knew Mrs. Jeffrey's rings, and could say whether
they were all to be found on that lady's toilet-
table after the police came in with news of her
death. The answer was decisive. They were all
there; her rings and all the other ornaments she
was in the daily habit of wearing, with the excep-
tion of her watch. That was not there.
"Did you take up those rings?"
"No, sir."
"Did you see any one else take them up?"


148 THE FILIGREE BALL
"No, sir; not till the officer did so."
"Very well, Loretta, sit down again till we hear
what Durbin has to say about these rings."
And then the man I hated came forward, and
though I shrank from acknowledging it even to
myself, I could but observe how strong and
quiet and self-possessed he seemed and how decisive
was his testimony.
But it was equally brief. He had taken up the
rings and he had looked at them; and on one, the
wedding-ring, he had detected a slight stain of
blood. He had called Mr. Jeffrey's attention to it,
but that gentleman had made no comment.
This remark had the effect of concentrating
general attention upon Mr. Jeffrey. But he
seemed quite oblivious of it; his attitude remained
unchanged, and only from the quick stretching out
and withdrawal of Miss Tuttle's hand could it be
seen that anything had been said calculated to
touch or arouse this man. The coroner cast an un-
easy glance in his direction; then he motioned Dur-
bin aside and recalled Loretta.
And now I began to be sorry for the girl. It is
hard to have one's weaknesses exposed, especially
if one is more foolish than wicked. But there was
no way of letting this girl off without sacrificing
certain necessary points, and the coroner went re-
lentlessly to work.


DETAILS 149
"How long have you been in this house?"
"Three weeks. Ever since Mrs. Jeffrey's wed-
ding day, sir."
"Were you there when she first came as a bride
from the Moore house?"
"I was, sir."
"And saw her then for the first time?"
"Yes, sir."
"How did she look and act that first day?"
"I thought her the gayest bride I had ever seen,
then I thought her the saddest, and then I did not
know what to think. She was so merry one min-
ute and so frightened the next, so full of talk
when she came running up the steps and so struck
with silence the minute she got into the parlor, that
I set her down as a queer one till some one whis-
pered in my ear that she was suffering from a
dreadful shock; that ill-luck had attended her mar-
riage and much more about what had happened
from time to time at the Moore house."
"And you believed what was told you?"
"Believed?"
"Believed it well enough to keep a watch on your
young mistress to see if she were happy or not?"
"Oh, sir!"
"It was but natural," the coroner suavely ob-
served. "Every one felt interested in this mar-
riage. You watched her of course. Now what


150 THE FILIGREE BALL
was the result? Did you consider her well and
happy?"
The girl's voice sank and she cast a glance at
her master which he did not lift his head to meet.
"I did not think her happy. She laughed and
sang and was always in and out of the rooms like a
butterfly, but she did not wear a happy look, ex-
cept now and then when she was seated with Mr.
Jeffrey alone. Then I have seen her flush in a
way to make the heart ache; it was such a contrast,
sir, to other times when she was by herself or—"
"Or what?"
"Or just with her sister, sir."
The defiance with which this was said added
point to what otherwise might have been an unim-
portant admission. Those who had already scru-
tinized Miss Tuttle with the curiosity of an ill-
defined suspicion now scrutinized her with a more
palpable one, and those who had hitherto seen
nothing in this heavily-veiled woman but the be-
reaved sister of an irresponsible suicide allowed
their looks to dwell piercingly on that concealing
veil, as if they would be glad to penetrate its folds
and read in those beautiful features the meaning of
an allusion uttered with such a sting in the tone.
"You refer to Miss Tuttle?" observed the cor-
oner.
"Mrs. Jeffrey's sister? Yes, sir." The men-


DETAILS 151
ace was gone from the voice now, but no one could
forget that it had been there.
"Miss Tuttle lived in the house with her sister,
did she not?"
"Yes, sir; till that sister died and was buried;
then she went away."
The coroner did not pursue this topic, prefer-
ring to return to the former one.
"So you say that Mrs. Jeffrey showed uneasi-
ness ever since her wedding day. Can you give me
any instance of this; mention, I mean, any conver-
sations overheard by you which would show us
just what you mean?"
"I don't like to repeat things I hear. But if
you say that I must, I can remember once passing
Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey in the hall, just as he was
saying: 'You take it too much to heart! I ex-
pected a happy honeymoon. Somehow, we have
failed—' That was all I heard, sir. But what
made me remember his words was that she was
dressed for some afternoon reception and looked
so charming and so—and so, as if she ought to be
happier."
"Just so. Now, when was this? How long be-
fore her death?"
"Oh, a week or so. It was very soon after the
wedding day."
"And did matters seem to improve after that?


152
THE FILIGREE BALL
Did she appear any better satisfied or more com-
posed ?”
“I think she endeavored to. But there was
something on her mind, something which she tried
to laugh off ; something that annoyed Mr. Jeffrey
and worried Miss Tuttle; something which caused
a cloud in the house, for all the dances and dinners
and goings and comings. I am sorry to speak of
it, but it was so.”
“Something that showed an unsettled mind?”
“Almost. The glitter in her eye was not nat-
ural; neither was the way she looked at her sister
and sometimes at her husband.”
"Did she talk much about the catastrophe which
attended her wedding? Did her mind seem to run
on that?”
"Incessantly at first; but afterward not so
much. I think Mr. Jeffrey frowned on that sub-
ject.”
“Did he ever frown on her?”
“No, sir—not-not when they were alone or with
no one by but me. He seemed to love her then
very much.”
“What do you mean by that, Loretta ; that he
lost patience with her when other people were pres-
ent-Miss Tuttle, for instance?”
“Yes, sir. He used to change very much when
-when-rwhen Miss Tuttle came into the room.”


DETAILS 158
"Change toward his wife?"
"Yes, sir."
"How?"
"He grew more distant, much more distant; got
up quite fretfully from his seat, if he were sitting
beside her, and took up some book or paper."
"And Miss Tuttle?"
"She never seemed to notice but—"
"But—?"
"She did not come in very often after this had
happened once or twice; I mean into the room up-
stairs where they used to sit."
"Loretta, I regret to put this question, but after
your replies I owe it to the jury, if not to the par-
ties themselves, to make Miss Tuttle's position in
this household thoroughly understood. Do you
think she was a welcome visitor in this house?"
The girl pursed up her lips, glanced at the lady
and gentleman whose feelings she was supposed to
pass comment on, and seemed to lose heart. Then,
as they failed to respond to her look of appeal, she
strove to get the better of her sense of shame and,
with a somewhat injured air, replied:
"I can only repeat what I once heard said about
this by Mr. Jeffrey himself. Miss Tuttle had just'
left the dining-room and Mrs. Jeffrey was stand-
ing in one of her black moods, with her hand on the
top of her chair, ready to go but forgetting to do


154 THE FILIGREE BALL
so. I was there, but neither of them noticed me;
he was staring at her, and she was looking down.
Neither seemed at ease. Suddenly he spoke
and asked, 'Why must Cora remain with us?' She
started and her look grew strange and frightened.
'Because I want her to,' she cried. 'I can not live
without Cora.'"
These words, so different from what we were ex-
pecting, caused a sensation in the room and con-
sequently a stir. As the noise of shifting feet and
moving heads began to be heard in all directions,
Miss Tuttle's head drooped a little, but Francis
Jeffrey did not betray any sign of feeling or
even of attention. The coroner, embarrassed, per-
haps, by this exhibition of silent misery so near
him, hesitated a little before he put his next ques-
tion. Loretta, on the contrary, had gathered
courage with every word she spoke and now looked
ready for anything.
"It was Mrs. Jeffrey, then, who clung most de-
terminedly to her sister?" the coroner finally sug-
gested.
"I have told you what she said."
"Yet these sisters spent but little time together?"
"Very little; as little as two persons could who
lived together in one house."
This statement, which seemed such a contradic-
tion to her former one, increased the interest; and


DETAILS 155
much disappointment was covertly shown when the
coroner veered off from this topic and brusquely
inquired:
"Did you ever know Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey to
have any open rupture?"
The answer was a decided one.
"Yes. On Tuesday morning preceding her
death they had a long and angry talk in their own
room, after which Mrs. Jeffrey made no further
effort to conceal her wretchedness. Indeed, one
may say she began to die from that hour."
Mrs. Jeffrey's death had occurred on Wednes-
day evening.
"Let us hear what you have to say about this
quarrel and what happened after it."
The girl, with a renewed flush, cast a depreca-
tory look at the mass of faces before her, and,
meeting on all sides but one look of intense and
growing interest, drew up her neat figure with a re-
lieved air and began a story which I will proceed
to transcribe for you in the fewest possible words.
Tuesday morning's breakfast had been a silent
one. There had been a ball the night before at
some great place on Massachusetts Avenue; but no
one spoke of it. Miss Tuttle made some remark
about a friend she had met there, but as no one
listened to her, she soon stopped and in a little
while left the table. Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey sat on,


156 THE FILIGREE BALL
but neither said anything. Finally Mr. Jeffrey
rose and, speaking in a voice hardly recognizable,
remarked that he had something to say to her, and
led the way to their room. Mrs. Jeffrey looked
frightened as she followed him; so frightened that
it was evident that something very serious had oc-
curred or was about to occur between them. As
nothing of this kind had ever happened before,
Loretta could not help waiting about till Mr.
Jeffrey reappeared; and when he did so and she
saw no signs of relief in his face or manner, she
watched, with the silly interest of a girl who had
nothing else to occupy her mind, to see if he would
leave the house in such a mood, and without making
peace with his young bride. To her surprise, he
did not go out at the usual time, but went to Miss
Tuttle's room, where for a full half-hour he re-
mained closeted with his sister-in-law, talking in
excited and unnatural tones. Then he went back
for a few minutes to where he had left his wife, in
her own boudoir. But he could not have had much
to say to her this time, for he presently came out
again and ran hastily downstairs and out, almost
without stopping to catch up his hat.
As it was Mary's business, and not the witness',
to make Mrs. Jeffrey's bed in the morning, Loretta
could think of no excuse for approaching her mis-
tress' room at this moment; but later, when letters


DETAILS 157
came, followed by various messages and some vis-
itors, she went more than a dozen times to Mrs.
Jeffrey's door. She was not admitted, nor were
her appeals answered, except by a sharp "Go
away!"
Nor was Miss Tuttle received any better, though
she tried more than once to see her sister, espe-
cially as night came on and the hour approached
for Mr. Jeffrey's return. Mrs. Jeffrey was simply
determined to remain alone; and when dinner time
arrived, and no Mr. Jeffrey, she could be induced
to open her door only wide enough to take in the
cup of tea which Miss Tuttle insisted upon sending
her.
The witness here confessed that she had been
very much excited by these unusual proceedings
and by the effect which they seemed to have on the
lady just mentioned; so she was ready to notice
that Mrs. Jeffrey's hand shook like that of an old
and palsied woman when she reached out for the
tray.
Gladly would Loretta have caught one glimpse
of her face, but it was hidden by the door; nor did
Mrs. Jeffrey answer a single one of her questions.
She simply closed her door and kept it so till to-
ward midnight, when Miss Tuttle, coming into the
hall, ordered the house to be closed for the night.
Then the long-shut door softly swung open, but


158 THE FILIGREE BALL
before any one could reach it, it was again pulled
to and locked.
The next day brought no relief. Miss Tuttle,
who had changed greatly during this unhappy
day and night, succeeded no better than before in
getting access to her sister, nor could Loretta gain
the least word from her mistress till toward the lat-
ter part of the afternoon, when that lady, ringing
her bell, gave her first order.
"A substantial dinner," she cried; and when
Loretta, greatly relieved, brought up the required
meal she was astonished to find the door open and
herself bidden to enter. The sight which met her
eyes staggered her. From one end of the room to
the other were signs of great nervous unrest and of
terrible suffering. The chairs were pushed into
corners as if the wretched bride had tramped the
floor in an agony of excitement. Curtains were
torn and the piano-cover was hanging half on and
half off the open upright, as if she had clutched at
it to keep herself from falling. On the floor be-
neath lay several pieces of broken china,—vases of
whose value Mrs. Jeffrey had often spoken, but
which, jerked off with the cover, had been left where
they fell; while immediately in front of the fire-
place lay one of the rugs tossed into a heap, as if
she had rolled in it on the floor or used it to smother
her cries of pain or anger.


DETAILS 159
So much for the state in which the witness found
the boudoir. The adjoining bed-room was not in
much better case, though it was evident that the
bed itself had not been lain in since it was made
up the day before at breakfast time. By this
token Mrs. Jeffrey had not slept the night before,
or if she had laid her head anywhere it had been
on the rug already spoken of.
These signs of extreme mental suffering, so
much more extreme than any Loretta had ever be-
fore witnessed, frightened her so that the tray
shook in her hand as she set it down on the table
among the countless objects Mrs. Jeffrey al-
ways had about her. The noise seemed to startle
her mistress, who had walked to the window after
opening the door, for she wheeled impetuously
about and Loretta saw her face. It was as if a
blight had passed over it. Once gay and animated
beyond the power of any one to describe, it had
become in twenty-four hours a ghost's face, with
the glare of some awful resolve on it. Or so it
would appear from the way Loretta described it.
But such girls do not always see correctly, and
perhaps all that can be safely stated is that Mrs.
Jeffrey was unnaturally pale and had lost her but-
terfly-like way of incessant movement.
Loretta, who was evidently accustomed to seeing
her mistress arrayed in brilliant colors and much


160 THE FILIGREE BALL
begemmed, laid great stress on the fact that,
though it was on the verge of evening and she was
evidently going out, she was dressed in black cloth
and without even a diamond or a flower to relieve
its severe simplicity. Her hair, too, which was al-
ways her pride, was piled in a careless mass upon
her head as if she had tried to arrange it herself
and had forgotten what she was doing while her
fingers were but half through their work. There
was a cloak lying on a chair near which she was
standing, and she held a hat in her hand; but
Loretta saw no gloves. As the maid's glance and
that of her mistress crossed, Mrs. Jeffrey spoke,
and the effort she made in doing so naturally
frightened the girl still more. "I am going out,"
were her words. "I may not be home till late—
What are you looking at?"
Loretta declared that the words took her by sur-
prise and that she did not know what to say, but
managed to cover up her embarrassment by inti-
mating that if her mistress would let her touch up
her hair a bit she would make her look more nat-
ural.
At this suggestion, Mrs. Jeffrey cast a glance in
the glass and impetuously declared, "It doesn't
matter." But she seemed to think better of it the
next minute; for, throwing herself in a chair, she
bade the girl to bring a comb, and sat quiet enough,


DETAILS 161
though evidently in a great tremor of haste and
impatience, while Loretta combed her hair and put
it up in the old way.
But the old way was not as becoming as usual,
and Loretta was wondering if she ought to call in
Miss Tuttle, when Mrs. Jeffrey jumped to her feet
and went over to the table and began to eat with
the feverish haste of one who forces himself to take
food in spite of hurry and distaste.
This was the moment for Loretta to leave the
room; but she did not know how to do so. She
felt herself fixed to the spot and stood watching
Mrs. Jeffrey till that lady, suddenly becoming con-
scious of the girl's presence, turned, and in the
midst of the moans which broke unconsciously from
her lips, said with a pitiable effort at her old man-
ner:
"Go away, Loretta; I am ill; have been ill for
two days. I don't like people to look at me like
that!" Then, as the girl shrank back, added in a
breaking voice: "When Mr. Jeffrey comes
home—" and said no more for several minutes, dur-
ing which she clutched her throat with both hands
and struggled with herself till she got her voice
back and found herself able to repeat: "When
Mr. Jeffrey comes,—if he does come,—tell him
that I was right about the way that novel ended.
Remember that you are to say to him the moment


162 THE FILIGREE BALL
you see him that I was right about the novel, and
that he is to look and see if it did not end as I said
it would. And Loretta—" here she rose and
approached the speaker with a sweet, appealing
look which brought tears to the impressionable
girl's eyes, "don't go gossiping about me down-
stairs. I sha'n't be sick long. I am going to be
better soon, very soon. By the time you see me
here again I shall be quite like my old self. For-
get how—how"—and Loretta said she seemed to
have difficulty in finding the right word here—
"how childish I have been."
Of course Loretta promised, but she is not sure
that she would have had the courage to keep all
this to herself if she had not heard Mrs. Jeffrey
stop in Miss Tuttle's room on her way out. That
relieved her, and enabled her to go downstairs to
her own supper with more appetite than she had
thought ever to have again. Alas! it was the last
good meal she was able to eat for days. In three
hours afterward a man came from the station-
house with the news of Mrs. Jeffrey's suicide in the
horrible old house in which she had been married
only two weeks before.
As this had been a continuous narrative and
concisely told, the coroner had not interrupted her.
When at this point a little gasp escaped Miss
Tuttle and a groan broke from Francis Jeffrey's


DETAILS 163
hitherto sealed lips, the feelings of the whole
assemblage seemed to find utterance. A young
wife's misery culminating in death on the very spot
where she had been so lately married! What could
be more thrilling, or appeal more closely to the
general heart of humanity? But the cause of that
misery! This was what every one present was
eager to have explained. This is what we now ex-
pected the coroner to bring out. But instead of
continuing on the line he had opened up, he pro-
ceeded to ask:
"Where were you when this officer brought the
news you mention?"
"In the hall, sir. I opened the door for him."
"And to whom did he first mention his errand?"
"To Miss Tuttle. She had come in just before
him and was standing at the foot of the stairs—"
"What! Was Miss Tuttle out that evening?"
"Yes; she went out very soon after Mrs. Jeffrey
left. When she came in she said that she had been
around the block, but she must have gone around
it more than once, for she was absent two hours."
"Did you let her in?"
"Yes, sir."
"And she said she had been around the block?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did she say anything else?"
"She asked if Mr. Jeffrey had come in."


164 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Anything else?"
"Then if Mrs. Jeffrey had returned."
"To both of which questions you answered—"
"A plain 'No.'"
"Now tell us about the officer."
"He rang the bell almost immediately after she
did. Thinking she would want to slip upstairs
before I admitted any one, I waited a minute for
her to go, but she did not do so, and when the
officer stepped in she—"
"Well!"
"She shrieked."
"What! before he spoke?"
"Yes, sir."
"Just at sight of him?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he wear his badge in plain view?"
"Yes, on his breast."
"So that you knew him to be a police officer?"
"Yes."
"And Miss Tuttle shrieked at seeing a police
officer?"
"Yes, and sprang forward."
"Did she say anything?"
"Not then."
"What did she do?"
"Waited for him to speak."
"Which he did?"


DETAILS
165
“At once, and very brutally. He asked if she
was Mrs. Jeffrey's sister, and when she nodded and
gasped 'Yes,' he blurted out that Mrs. Jeffrey was
dead; that he had just come from the old house in
Waverley Avenue, where she had just been found.”
“And Miss Tuttle?”
“Didn't know what to say; just hid her face.
She was leaning against the newel-post, so it was
easy for her to do so. I remember that the man
stared at her for taking it so quietly and asking no
questions.”
“And did she speak at all?”
“Oh, yes, afterwards. Her face was wrapped in
the folds of her cloak, but I heard her whisper, as
if to herself: 'No! no! That old hearth is not a
lodestone. She can not have fallen there. And
then she looked up quite wildly and cried: "There
is something more! Something which you have
not told me.' 'She shot herself, if that's what you
mean.' Miss Tuttle's arms went straight up over
her head. It was awful to see her. “Shot her-
self ?' she gasped. 'Oh, Veronica, Veronica ! With
a pistol,' he went on—I suppose he was going to
say, 'tied to her wrist, but he never got it
out, for Miss Tuttle, at the word 'pistol clapped
her hands to her ears and for a moment looked
quite distracted, so that he thought better of wor-
rying her any more and only demanded to know


166 THE FILIGREE BALL
if Mr. Jeffrey kept any such weapon. Miss Tut-
tle's face grew very strange at this. 'Mr. Jeffrey!
was he there?' she asked. The man looked sur-
prised. 'They are searching for Mr. Jeffrey,' he
replied. 'Isn't he here?' 'No,' came both from
her lips and mine. The man acted very imper-
tinently. 'You haven't told me whether a pistol
was kept here or not,' said he. Miss Tuttle tried
to compose herself, but I saw that I should have to
speak if any one did, so I told him that Mr. Jef-
frey did have a pistol, which he kept in one of his
bureau drawers. But when the officer wanted Miss
Tuttle to go up and see if it was there, she shook
her head and made for the front door, saying that
she must be taken directly to her sister."
"And did no one go up? Was no attempt made
to see if the pistol was or was not in the drawer?"
"Yes; the officer went up with me. I pointed
out the place where it was kept, and he rummaged
all through it, but found no pistol. I didn't ex-
pect him to—" Here the witness paused and bit
her lip, adding confusedly: "Mrs. Jeffrey had
taken it, you see."
The jurors, who sat very much in the shadow,
had up to this point attracted but little attention.
But now they began to make their presence felt,
perhaps because the break in the witness' words
had been accompanied by a sly look at Jinny. Pos-


DETAILS 167
sibly warned by this that something lay back of
this hitherto timid witness' sudden volubility, one
of them now spoke up.
"In what room did you say this pistol was kept?"
"In Mr. and Mrs. Jeffrey's bed-room, sir; the
room opening out of the sitting-room where Mrs.
Jeffrey had kept herself shut up all day."
"Does this bed-room of which you speak com-
municate with the hall as well as with the sitting-
room?"
"No, sir; it is the defect of the house. Mr. and
Mrs. Jeffrey often spoke of it as a great annoy-
ance. You had to pass through the little boudoir
in order to reach it."
The juryman sank back, evidently satisfied with
her replies, but we who marked the visible excite-
ment with which the witness had answered this
seemingly unimportant question, wondered what
special interest surrounded that room and the pis-
tol to warrant the heightened color with which the
girl answered this new interlocutor. We were not
destined to know at this time, for the coroner, when
he spoke again, pursued a different subject.
"How long was this before Mr. Jeffrey came
in?"
"Only a few minutes. I was terribly frightened
at being left there alone and was on my way to
ask one of the other girls to come up and stay with


168 THE FILIGREE BALL
me, when I heard his key in the lock and came
back. He had entered the house and was stand-
ing near the door talking to an officer, who had
evidently come in with him. It was a different
officer from the one who had gone away with Miss
Tuttle. Mr. Jeffrey was saying, 'What's that?
My wife hurt!' 'Dead, sir!' blurted out the man.
I had expected to see Mr. Jeffrey terribly shocked,
but not in so awful a way. It really frightened
me to see him and I turned to run, but found that
I couldn't and that I had to stand still and look
whether I wanted to or not. Yet he didn't say a
word or ask a question."
"What did he do, Loretta?"
"I can not say; he was on his knees and was
white—Oh, how white! Yet he looked up when the
man described how and where Mrs. Jeffrey had
been found and even turned toward me when I said
something about his wife having left a message
for him when she went out. This message, which
I almost hesitated to give after the awful news of
her death, was about the ending of some story, as
you remember, and it seemed heartless to speak of
it at a moment like this, but as she had told me to,
I didn't dare to disobey her. So, with the man
listening to my every word, and Mr. Jeffrey look-
ing as if he would fall to the ground before I could
finish, I repeated her words to him and was sur-


DETAILS 169
prised enough when he suddenly started upright
and went flying upstairs. But I was more sur-
prised yet when, at the top of the first flight, he
stopped and, looking over the balustrade, asked in
a very strange voice where Miss Turtle was. For
he seemed just then to want her more than any-
thing else in the world and looked beaten and wild
when I told him that she was already gone to Wa-
verley Avenue. But he recovered himself before the
man could draw near enough to see his face, and
rushed into the sitting-room above and shut the
door behind him, leaving the officer and me stand-
ing down by the front door. As I didn't know
what to say to a man like him, and he didn't know
what to say to me, the time seemed long, but it
couldn't have been very many minutes before Mr.
Jeffrey came back with a slip of paper in his hand
and a very much relieved look on his face. 'The
deed was premeditated,' he cried. 'My unfortu-
nate wife has misunderstood my affection for her.'
And from being a very much broken-down man, he
stood up straight and tall and prepared himself
very quietly to go to the Moore house. That is all
I can tell about the way the news was received by
him."
Were these details necessary? Many appeared
to regard them as futile and uncalled for. But
Coroner Z. was never known to waste time on


170 THE FILIGREE BALL
trivialities, and if he called for these facts, those
who knew him best felt certain that they were meant
as a preparation for Mr. Jeffrey's testimony,
which was now called for.


XII
THEUST AND PARKY
When Francis Jeffrey's hand fell from his fore-
head and he turned to face the assembled people,
an instinctive compassion arose in every breast at
sight of his face, which, if not open in its expres-
sion, was at least surcharged with the deepest mis-
ery. In a flash the scene took on new meaning.
Many remembered that less than a month before
his eye had been joyous and his figure a conspicu-
ous one among the favored sons of fortune. And
now he stood in sight of a crowd, drawn together
mainly by curiosity, to explain as best he might
why this great happiness and hope had come to a
sudden termination, and his bride of a fortnight
had sought death rather than continue to live under
the same roof with him.
So much for what I saw on the faces about me.
What my own face revealed I can not say. I only
know that I strove to preserve an impassive ex-
terior. If I secretly held this man's misery to be
a mask hiding untold passions and the darkness of
171


172 THE FILIGREE BALL
an unimaginable deed, it was not for me to dis-
close in this presence either my suspicions or my
fears. To me, as to those about me, he apparently
was a man who at some sacrifice to his pride, would
yet be able to explain whatever seemed dubious in
the mysterious case in which he had become in-
volved.
His wife's uncle, who to all appearance shared
the general curiosity as to the effect which this
woeful tragedy had had upon his niece's most in-
terested survivor, eyed with a certain cold interest,
eminently in keeping with his general character,
the pallid forehead, sunken eyes and nervously
trembling lip of the once "handsome Jeffrey" till
that gentleman, rousing from his depression, mani-
fested a realization of what was required of him
and turned with a bow toward the coroner.
Miss Tuttle settled into a greater rigidity. I
pass over the preliminary examination of this im-
portant witness and proceed at once to the point
when the coroner, holding out the two or three
lines of writing which Mr. Jeffrey had declared to
have been left him by his wife, asked:
"Are these words in your wife's handwriting?"
Mr. Jeffrey replied hastily, and, with just a
glance at the paper offered him:
"They are."
The coroner pressed the slip upon him.


174 THE FILIGREE BALL
"I find that I do not love you as I thought. I
can not live knowing this to be so. Pray God you
may forgive me! Veronica."
As the last word fell with a little tremble from
Mr. Jeffrey's lips, the coroner repeated:
"You still think these words were addressed to
you by your wife; that in short they contain an ex-
planation of her death?"
"I do."
There was sharpness in the tone. Mr. Jeffrey
was feeling the prick. There was agitation in it,
too; an agitation he was trying hard to keep down.
"You have reason, then," persisted the coroner,
"for accepting this peculiar explanation of your
wife's death; a death which, in the judgment
of most people, was of a nature to call for the
strongest provocation possible."
"My wife was not herself. My wife was in an
overstrained and suffering condition. For one so
nervously overwrought many allowances must be
made. She may have been conscious of not re-
sponding fully to my affection. That this feeling
was strong enough to induce her to take her life
is a source of unspeakable grief to me, but one for
which you must find explanation, as I have so often
said, in the terrors caused by the dread event at
the Moore house, which recalled old tragedies and
emphasized a most unhappy family tradition."


THRUST AND PARRY ITS
The coroner paused a moment to let these words
sink into the ears of the jury, then plunged im-
mediately into what might be called the offensive
part of his examination.
"Why, if your wife's death caused you such in-
tense grief, did you appear so relieved at receiving
this by no means consoling explanation?"
At an implication so unmistakably suggestive of
suspicion Mr. Jeffrey showed fire for the first time.
"Whose word have you for that? A serv-
ant's, so newly come into my house that her very
features are still strange to me. You must ac-
knowledge that a person of such marked inexperi-
ence can hardly be thought to know me or to inter-
pret rightly the feelings of my heart by any pass-
ing look she may have surprised upon my face."
This attitude of defiance so suddenly assumed
had an effect he little realized. Miss Tuttle stirred
for the first time behind her veil, and Uncle David,
from looking bored, became suddenly quite atten-
tive. These two but mirrored the feelings of the
general crowd, and mine especially.
"We do not depend on her judgment alone," the
coroner now remarked. "The change in you was
apparent to many others. This we can prove to
the jury if they require it."
But no man lifting a voice from that gravely at-
tentive body, the coroner proceeded to inquire if


176 THE FILIGREE BALL
Mr. Jeffrey felt like volunteering any explana-
tions on this head. Receiving no answer from
him either, he dropped the suggestive line of in-
quiry and took up the consideration of facts. The
first question he now put was:
"Where did you find the slip of paper contain-
ing these last words from your wife?"
"In a book I picked out of the book-shelf in our
room upstairs. When Loretta gave me my wife's
message I knew that I should find some word from
her in the novel we had just been reading. As we
had been interested in but one book since our mar-
riage, there was no possibility of my making any
mistake as to which one she referred."
"Will you give us the name of this novel?"
"Compensation."
"And you found this book called Compensation
in your room upstairs?"
"Yes."
"On the book-shelf?"
"Yes."
"Where does this book-shelf stand?"
Mr. Jeffrey looked up as much as to say, "Why
so many small questions about so simple a matter?"
but answered frankly enough:
"At the right of the door leading into the bed-


THRUST AND PARRY 177
"And at right angles to the door leading into
the hall?"
"Yes."
"Very good. Now may I ask you to describe the
cover of this book?"
"The cover? I never noticed the cover. Why
do you—. Excuse me, I suppose you have your
reasons for asking even these puerile and seem-
ingly unnecessary questions. The cover is a queer
one I believe; partly red and partly green; and
that is all I know about it."
"Is this the book?"
Mr. Jeffrey glanced at the volume the coroner
held up before him.
"I believe so; it looks like it."
The book had a flaming cover, quite unmistak-
able in its character.
"The title shows it to be the same," remarked
the coroner. "Is this the only book with a cover of
this kind in the house?"
"The only one, I should say."
The coroner laid down the book.
"Enough of this, then, for the present; only
let the jury remember that the cover of this book
is peculiar and that it was kept on a shelf at the
right of the opening leading into the adjoining
bed-room. And now, Mr. Jeffrey, we must ask


178 THE FILIGREE BALL
you to look at these rings; or, rather, at this one.
You have seen it before; it is the one you placed
on Mrs. Jeffrey's hand when you were married to
her a little over a fortnight ago. You recognize
it?"
"I do."
"Do you also recognize this small mark of blood
on it as having been here when it was shown to you
by the detective on your return from seeing her
dead body at the Moore house?"
"I do; yes."
"How do you account for that spot and the
slight injury made to her finger? Should you not
say that the ring had been dragged from her
hand?"
"I should."
"By whom was it dragged? By you?"
"No, sir."
"By herself, then?"
"It would seem so."
"Much passion must have been in that act. Do
you think that any ordinary quarrel between hus-
band and wife would account for the display of
such fury? Are we not right in supposing a deep-
er cause for the disturbance between you than the
slight one you offer in way of explanation?"
An inaudible answer; then a sudden straighten-


THRUST AND PARRY 179
ing of Francis Jeffrey's fine figure. And that was
all.
"Mr. Jeffrey, in the talk you had with your wife
on Tuesday morning was Miss Tuttle's name in-
troduced?"
"It was mentioned; yes, sir."
"With recrimination or any display of passion
on the part of your wife?"
"You would not believe me if I said no," was
the unexpected rejoinder.
The coroner, taken aback by this direct attack
from one who had hitherto borne all his innuendoes
with apparent patience, lost countenance for a mo-
ment, but, remembering that in his official capacity
he was more than a match for the elegant gentle-
man, who under other circumstances would have
found it only too easy to put him to the blush, he
observed with dignity:
"Mr. Jeffrey, you are on oath. We certainly
have no reason for not believing you."
Mr. Jeffrey bowed. He was probably sorry for
his momentary loss of self-control, and gravely,
but with eyes bent downward, answered with the
abrupt phrase:
"Well, then, I will say no."
The coroner shifted his ground.
"Will you make the same reply when I ask if the


180 THE FILIGREE BALL
like forbearance was shown toward your wife's
name in the conversation you had with Miss Tut-
tle immediately afterward?"
A halt in the eagerly looked-for reply; a hesita-
tion, momentary indeed, but pregnant with name-
less suggestions, caused his answer, when it did
come, to lose some of the emphasis he manifestly
wished to put into it.
"Miss Tuttle was Mrs. Jeffrey's half-sister. The
bond between them was strong. Would she—
would I—be apt to speak of my young wife with
bitterness?"
"That is not an answer to my question, Mr.
Jeffrey. I must request a more positive reply."
Miss Tuttle made a move. The strain on all
present was so great we could but notice it. He
noticed it too, for his brows came together with a
quick frown, as he emphatically replied:
"There were no recriminations uttered. Mrs.
Jeffrey had displeased me and I said so, but I did
not forget that I was speaking of my wife and to
her sister."
As this was in the highest degree non-committal,
the coroner could be excused for persisting.
"The conversation, then, was about your wife?"
"It was."
"In criticism of her conduct?"
"Yes."


THRUST AND PARRY 181
"At the ambassador's ball?"
"Yes."
Mr. Jeffrey was a poor hand at lying. That last
"yes" came with great effort.
The coroner waited, possibly for the echo of this
last "yes" to cease; then he remarked with a cold-
ness which lifted at once the veil from his hitherto
well disguised antagonism to this witness:
"If you will recount to us anything which your
wife said or did on that evening which, in your
mind, was worthy of all this coil, it might help
us to understand the situation."
But the witness made no attempt to do so, and
while many of us were ready to pardon him this
show of delicacy, others felt that under the circum-
stances it would have been better had he been more
open.
Among the latter was the coroner himself, who,
from this moment, threw aside all hesitation and
urged forward his inquiries in a way to press the
witness closer and closer toward the net he was
secretly holding out for him. First, he obliged
him to say that his conversation with Miss Tuttle
had not tended to smooth matters; that no reconcil-
iation with his wife had followed it, and that in
the thirty-six hours which elapsed before he re-
turned home again he had made no attempt to
soothe the feelings of one, who, according to hii


182 THE FILIGREE BALL
own story, he considered hardly responsible for any
extravagances in which she might have indulged.
Then when this inconsistency had been given time
to sink into the minds of the jury, Coroner Z.
increased the effect produced by confronting Jef-
frey with witnesses who testified to the friendly, if
not lover-like relations which had existed between
himself and Miss Tuttle prior to the appearance of
his wife upon the scene; closing with a question
which brought out the denial, by no means new,
that an engagement had ever taken place between
him and Miss Tuttle and hence that a bond had
been canceled by his marriage with Miss Moore.
But his manner and careful choice of words in
making this denial did not satisfy those present
of his entire candor; especially as Miss Tuttle, for
all her apparent immobility, showed, by the violent
locking of her hands, both her anxiety and the suf-
fering she was undergoing during this painful
examination. Was the suffering merely one of
outraged delicacy? We felt justified in doubting
it, and looked forward, with cruel curiosity I admit,
to the moment when this renowned and universally
admired beauty would be called on to throw aside
her veil and reveal the highly praised features
which had been so openly scorned for the sake of
one whose chief claims to regard lay in her great
wealth.
* X


THRUST AND PARRY 183
But this moment was as yet far distant. The
coroner was a man of method, and his plan was
now to prove, as had been apparent to most of us
from the first, that the assumption of suicide on the
part of Mrs. Jeffrey was open to doubt. The com-
munication suggesting such an end to her troubles
was the strongest proof Mr. Jeffrey could bring
forward that her death had been the result of her
own act. Consequently it was now the coroner's
business to show that this communication was either
a forgery, or a substitution, and that if she
left some word in the book to which she had in so
peculiar a manner directed his attention, it was
not necessarily the one bewailing her absence of
love for him and her consequent intention of seek-
ing relief from her disappointment in death.
Some hint of what the coroner contemplated had
already escaped him in the persistent and seem-
ingly inconsequent questions to which he had
subjected this witness in reference to these very
matters. But the time had now come for a more
direct attack, and the interest rose correspondingly
high, when the coroner, lifting again to sight the
scrap of paper containing the few piteous lines so
often quoted, asked of the now anxious and agitated
witness, if he had ever noticed any similarity be-
tween the handwriting of his wife and that of Miss
Tuttle.


184 THE FILIGREE BALL
An indignant "No!" was about to pass his lips,
when he suddenly checked himself and said more
mildly: "There may have been a similarity; I
hardly know, I have seen too little of Miss Tuttle's
hand to judge."
This occasioned a diversion. Specimens of Miss
Tuttle's handwriting were produced, which, after
having been duly proved, were passed down to the
jury along with the communication professedly
signed by Mrs. Jeffrey. The grunts of astonish-
ment which ensued as the knowing heads drew near
over these several papers caused Mr. Jeffrey to
flush and finally to cry out with startling emphasis:
"I know that those words were written by my
wife."
But when the coroner asked him his reasons for
this conviction, he could, or would not state them.
"I have said," he stolidly repeated; and that was
all.
The coroner made no comment, but when, after
some further inquiry, which added little to the gen-
eral knowledge, he dismissed Mr. Jeffrey and re-
called Loretta, there was that in his tone which
warned us that the really serious portion of the
day's examination was about to begin.


xm
CHIEFLY THEUST
The appearance of this witness had undergone
a change since she last stood before us. She was
shame-faced still, but her manner showed resolve
and a feverish determination to face the situation
which could but awaken in the breasts of those
who had Mr. Jeffrey's honor and personal welfare
at heart a nameless dread; as if they already fore-
saw the dark shadow which minute by minute was
slowly sinking over a household which, up to a
week ago, had been the envy and admiration of all
Washington society.
The first answer she made revealed both the cause
of her shame and the reason of her firmness. It
was in response to the question whether she, Loretta,
had seen Miss Tuttle before she went out on the
walk she was said to have taken immediately after
Mrs. Jeffrey's final departure from the house.
Her words were these:
"I did sir. I do not think Miss Tuttle knows it,
but I saw her in Mrs. Jeffrey's room."
185


186 THE FILIGREE BALL
The emphatic tone, offering such a contrast to
her former manner of speech, might have drawn
all eyes to the speaker had not the person she
mentioned offered a still more interesting subject
to the general curiosity. As it was, all glances
flew to that silent and seemingly impassive figure
upon which all open suggestions and covert in-
nuendo had hitherto fallen without creating more
than a pressure of her interlaced fingers. This
direct attack, possibly the most threatening she
had received, appeared to produce no more effect
upon her than the others; less, perhaps, for no stir
was visible in her now, and to some eyes she hardly
seemed to breathe.
Curiosity, thus baffled, led the gaze on to Mr.
Jeffrey, and even to Uncle David; but the former
had dropped his head again upon his hand, and the
other—well, there was little to observe in Mr. Moore
at any time, save the immense satisfaction he
seemed to take in himself; so attention returned to
the witness, who, by this time, had entered upon a
consecutive tale.
As near as I can remember, these are the words
with which she prefaced it:
"I am not especially proud of what I did that
night, but I was led into it by degrees, and I am
sure I beg the lady's pardon." And then she went
on to relate how, after she had seen Mrs. Jeffrey


CHIEFLY THRUST 187
leave the house, she went into her room with the
intention of putting it to rights. As this was no
more than her duty, no fault could be found with
her; but she owned that when she had finished this
task and removed all evidence of Mrs. Jeffrey's
frenzied condition, she had no business to linger
at the table turning over the letters she found lying
there.
Here the coroner stopped her and made some
inquiries in regard to these letters, but as they
seemed to be ordinary epistles from friends and
quite foreign to the investigation, he allowed her
to proceed.
Her cheeks were burning now, for she had found
herself obliged to admit that she had read enough
of these letters to be sure that they had no refer-
ence to the quarrel then pending between her mis-
tress and Mr. Jeffrey. Her eyes fell and she
looked seriously distressed as she went on to say
that she was as conscious then as now of having
no business with these papers; so conscious, indeed,
that when she heard Miss Tuttle's step at the door,
her one idea was to hide herself.
That she could stand and face that lady never so
much as occurred to her. Her own guilty con-
sciousness made her cheeks too hot for her to wish
to meet an eye which had never rested on her any
too kindly; so noticing how straight the curtains


188 THE FILIGREE BALL
fell over one of the windows on the opposite side
of the room, she dashed toward it and slipped in
out of sight just as Miss Turtle came in. This
window was one seldom used, owing to the fact
that it overlooked an adjoining wall, so she had no
fear of Miss Tuttle's approaching it. Consequent-
ly, she could stand there quite at her ease, and, as
the curtains in falling behind her had not come
quite together, she really could not help seeing just
what that lady did.
Here the witness paused with every appearance
of looking for some token of disapprobation from
the crowd.
But she encountered nothing there but eager
anxiety for her to proceed, so without waiting for
the coroner's question, she added in so many words:
"She went first to the book-shelves."
We had expected it; but yet a general move-
ment took place, and a few suppressed exclamations
could be heard.
"And what did she do there?"
"Took down a book, after looking carefully up
and down the shelves."
"What color of book?"
"A green one with red figures on it. I could see
the cover plainly as she took it down."
"Like this one?"
"Exactly like that one."
•


CHIEFLY THRUST 189
"And what did she do with this book?"
"Opened it, but not to read it. She was too
quick in closing it for that."
"Did she take the book away?"
"No; she put it back on the shelf."
"After opening and closing it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see whether she put anything into the
book?"
"I can not swear that she did; but then her back
was to me, and I could not have seen it if she had."
The implied suggestion caused some excitement,
but the coroner, frowning on this, pressed the girl
to continue, asking if Miss Tuttle left the room
immediately after turning from the book-shelves.
Loretta replied no; that, on the contrary, she stood
for some minutes near them, gazing, in what seemed
like a great distress of mind, straight upon the
floor; after which she moved in an agitated way
and with more than one anxious look behind her
into the adjoining room where she paused before
a large bureau. As this bureau was devoted en-
tirely to Mr. Jeffrey's use, Loretta experienced
some surprise at seeing his wife's sister approach
it in so stealthy a manner. Consequently she was
watching with all her might, when this young lady
opened the upper drawer and, with very evident
emotion, thrust her hand into it.


190 THE FILIGREE BALL
What she took out, or whether she took out any-
thing, this spy upon her movements could not say,
for when Loretta heard the drawer being pushed
back into place she drew the curtains close, per-
ceiving that Miss Tuttle would have to face this
window in coming back. However, she ventured
upon one other peep through them just as that
lady was leaving the room, and remembered as if it
were yesterday how clay-white her face looked, and
how she held her left hand pressed close against
the folds of her dress. It was but a few minutes
after this that Miss Tuttle left the house.
As we all knew what was kept in that drawer, the
conclusion was obvious. Whatever excuse Miss
Tuttle might give for going into her sister's room
at this time, but one thought, one fear, or possibly
one hope, could have taken her to Mr. Jeffrey's
private drawer. She wished to see if his pistol
was still there, or if it had been taken away by her
sister,—a revelation of the extreme point to which
her thoughts had flown at this crisis, and one
which effectually contradicted her former state-
ment that she had been conscious of no alarm in
behalf of her sister and had seen her leave the
house without dread or suspicion of evil.
The temerity which had made it possible to as-
sociate the name of such a man as Francis Jeffrey
with an outrageous crime having been thus in a


CHIEFLY THRUST
191
measure explained, the coroner recalled that gen-
tleman and again thoroughly surprised the gaping
public.
Had the witness accompanied his wife to the
Moore house?
"No."
Had he met her there by any appointment he
had made with her or which had been made for
them both by some third person?
"No."
Had he been at the Moore house on the night
of the eleventh at any time previous to the hour
when he was brought there by the officials ?
"No."
Would he glance at this impression of certain
finger-tips which had been left in the dust of the
southwest chamber mantel?
He had already noted them.
Now would he place his left hand on the paper
and see
"It is not necessary,” he burst forth, in great
heat. “I own to those marks. That is, I have no
doubt they were made by my hand.” Here, un-
consciously, his eyes flew to the member thus re-
ferred to, as if conscious that in some way it had
proved a traitor to him; after which his gaze trav-
eled slowly my way, with an indescribable question
in it which roused my conscience and made the


192 THE FILIGREE BALL
trick by which I had got the impression of his
hand seem less of a triumph than I had heretofore
considered it. The next minute he was answering
the coroner under oath, very much as he had an-
swered him in the unofficial interview at which I had
been present.
"I acknowledge having been in the Moore
house and even having been in its southwest
chamber, but not at the time supposed. It was on
the previous night." He went on to relate how,
being in a nervous condition and having the key
to this old dwelling in his pocket, he had amused
himself by going through its dilapidated in-
terior. All of this made a doubtful impression
which was greatly emphasized when, in reply to the
inquiry as to where he got the light to see by, he
admitted that he had come upon a candle in an up-
stairs room and made use of that; though he could
not remember what he had done with this candle
afterward, and looked dazed and quite at sea, till
the coroner suggested that he might have carried
it into the closet of the room where his fingers had
left their impression in the dust of the mantel-shelf.
Then he broke down like a man from whom some
prop is suddenly snatched and looked around
for a seat. This was given him, while a silence, the
most dreadful I ever experienced, held every one
there in check. But he speedily rallied and, with


CHIEFLY THRUST 198
the remark that he was a little confused in regard
to the incidents of that night, waited with a wild
look in his averted eye for the coroner's next ques-
tion.
Unhappily for him it was in continuation of
the same subject. Had he bought candles or not
at the grocer's around the corner? Yes, he had.
Before visiting the house? Yes. Had he also
bought matches? Yes. What kind? Common
safety matches. Had he noticed when he got
home that the box he had just bought was half
empty? No. Nevertheless he had used many
matches in going through this old house, had he
not? Possibly. To light his way upstairs, per-
haps? It might be. Had he not so used them?
Yes. Why had he done so, if he had candles in
his pocket, which were so much easier to hold and so
much more lasting than a lighted match? Ah, he
could not say; he did not know; his mind was con-
fused. He was awake when he should have been
asleep. It was all a dream to him.
The coroner became still more persistent.
"Did you enter the library on your solitary visit
to this old house?"
"I believe so."
"What did you do there?"
"Pottered around. I don't remember."
"What light did you use?"


194 THE FILIGREE BALL
"A candle, I think."
"You must know."
"Well, I had a candle; it was in a candelabrum."
"What candle and what candelabrum?"
"The same I used upstairs, of course."
"And you can not remember where you left this
candle and candelabrum when you finally quitted
the house?"
"No. I wasn't thinking about candles."
"What were you thinking about?"
"The rupture with my wife and the bad name of
the house I was in."
"Oh! and this was on Tuesday night?"
"Yes, sir."
"How can you prove this to us?"
"I can not."
"But you swear—"
"I swear that it was Tuesday night, the night
immediately preceding the one when—when my
wife's death robbed me of all earthly happiness."
It was feelingly uttered, and several faces light-
ened; but the coroner repeating: "Is there no way
you can prove this to our satisfaction?" the shadow
settled again, and on no head more perceptibly than
on that of the unfortunate witness.
It was now late in the day and the atmosphere
of the room had become stifling; but no one seemed
to be conscious of any discomfort, and a general


CHIEFLY THRUST 195
gasp of excitement passed through the room when
the coroner, taking out a box from under a pile
of papers, disclosed to the general gaze the famous
white ribbon with its dainty bow, lying on top of
the fatal pistol.
That this special feature, the most interesting
one of all connected with this tragedy, should have
been kept so long in reserve and brought out just
at this time, struck many of Mr. Jeffrey's closest
friends as unnecessarily dramatic; but when the
coroner, lifting out the ribbon, remarked tentative-
ly, "You know this ribbon?" we were more struck
by the involuntary cry of surprise which rose from
some one in the crowd about the door, than by the
look with which Mr. Jeffrey eyed it and made the
necessary reply. That cry had something more
than nervous excitement in it. Identifying the per-
son who had uttered it as a certain busy little wom-
an well known in town, I sent an officer to watch
her; then recalled my attention to the point the
coroner was attempting to make. He had forced
Mr. Jeffrey to recognize the ribbon as the one which
had fastened the pistol to his wife's arm; now he
asked whether, in his opinion, a woman could tie
such a bow to her own wrist, and when in common
justice Mr. Jeffrey was obliged to say no, waited
a third time before he put the general suspicion
again into words:


196 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Can not you, by some means or some witness,
prove to us that it was on Tuesday night and not
on Wednesday you spent the hours you speak of on
this scene of your marriage and your wife's
death?"
The hopelessness which more than once had
marked Mr. Jeffrey's features since the beginning
of this inquiry, reappeared with renewed force as
this suggestive question fell again upon his ears;
and he was about to repeat his plea of forgetful-
ness when the coroner's attention was diverted by
a request made in his ear by one of the detectives.
In another moment Mr. Jeffrey had been waved
aside and a new witness sworn in.
You can imagine every one's surprise, mine most
of all, when this witness proved to be Uncle David.
V


XIV
"TALIMAN ! LET US HAVE TALLMAN!"
I do not know why the coroner had so long
delayed to call this witness. In the ordinary course
of events his testimony should have preceded mine,
but the ordinary course of events had not been fol-
lowed, and it was only at the request of Mr. Moore
himself that he was now allowed the privilege of
appearing before this coroner and jury.
I speak of it as a privilege because he himself
evidently regarded it as such. Indeed, his whole
attitude and bearing as he addressed himself to the
coroner showed that he was there to be looked at
and that he secretly thought he was very well worth
this attention. Possibly some remembrance of the old
days, in which he had gone in and out before these
people in a garb suggestive of penury, made the
moment when he could appear before them in a
guise more befitting bis station one of incalculable
importance to him.
At all events, he confronted us all with an aspect
which openly challenged admiration. When, in
187


19$ THE FILIGREE BALL
answer to the coroner's inquiries, it became his duty
to speak, he did so with a condescension which
would have called up smiles if the occasion had
been one of less seriousness, and his connection with
it as unimportant as he would have it appear.
What he said was in the-way of confirming the
last witness' testimony as to his having been at
the Moore house on Tuesday evening. Mr. Moore,
who was very particular as to dates and days, ad-
mitted that the light which he had seen in a certain
window of his ancestral home on the evening when
he summoned the police was but the repetition of
one he had detected there the evening before. It
was this repetition which alarmed him and caused
him to break through all his usual habits and leave
his home at night to notify the police.
"The old sneak!" thought I. "Why didn't he
tell us this before?" And I allowed myself a fresh
doubt of his candor which had always seemed to me
somewhat open to question. It is possible that the
coroner shared my opinion, or that he felt it incum-
bent upon him to get what evidence he could from
the sole person living within view of the house in
which such ghastly events had taken place. For,
without betraying the least suspicion, and yet with
the quiet persistence for which men in his responsi-
ble position are noted, he subjected this suave old


"LET US HAVE TALLMAN!" 199
man to such a rigid examination as to what he had
seen, or had not seen, from his windows, that no
possibility seemed to remain of his concealing a
single fact which could help to the elucidation
of this or any other mystery connected with the old
mansion.
He asked him if he had seen Mr. Jeffrey go
in on the night in question; if he had ever seen
any one go in there since the wedding; or even if
he had seen any one loitering about the steps, or
sneaking into the rear yard. But the answer was
always no; these same noes growing more and more
emphatic, and the gentleman more and more im-
penetrable and dignified as the examination went
on. In fact, he was as unassailable a witness as I
have ever heard testify before any jury. Beyond
the fact already mentioned of his having observed
a light in the opposite house on the two evenings in
question, he admitted nothing. His life in the little
cottage was so engrossing—he had his organ—his
dog—why should he look out of the window?
Had it not been for his usual habit of letting
his dog run the pavements for a quarter of an hour
before finally locking up for the night, he would
not have seen as much as he did.
"Have you any stated hour for doing this?" the
coroner now asked.


200 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Yes; half-past nine."
"And was this the hour when you saw that
light?"
"Yes, both times."
As he had appeared at the station-house at a
few minutes before ten he was probably correct in
this statement. But, notwithstanding this, I did
not feel implicit confidence in him. He was too in-
sistent in his regret at not being able to give greater
assistance in the disentanglement of a mystery so
affecting the honor of the family of which he was
now the recognized head. His voice, nicely attuned
to the occasion, was admirable; so was his manner;
but I mentally wrote him down as one I should en-
joy outwitting if the opportunity ever came my
way.
He wound up with such a distinct repetition of
his former emphatic assertion as to the presence of
light in the old house on Tuesday as well as Wed-
nesday evening that Mr. Jeffrey's testimony in this
regard received a decided confirmation. I looked
to see some open recognition of this, when sud-
denly, and with a persistence understood only by
the police, the coroner recalled Mr. Jeffrey and
asked him what proof he had to offer that his visit
of Tuesday had not been repeated the next night
and that he was not in the building when that fatal
trigger was pulled.


"LET US HAVE TALLMAN!" 201
At this leading question, a lawyer sitting near
me, edged himself forward as if he hoped for some
sign from Mr. Jeffrey which would warrant him in
interfering. But Mr. Jeffrey gave no such sign.
I doubt if he even noticed this man's proximity,
though he knew him well and had often employed
him as his legal adviser in times gone by. He was
evidently exerting himself to recall the name which
so persistently eluded his memory, putting his hand
to his head and showing the utmost confusion.
"I can not give you one," he finally stam-
mered. "There is a man who could tell—if only
I could remember his name." Suddenly with a
loud cry which escaped him involuntarily, he gave a
gurgling laugh and we heard the name "Tallman!"
leap from his lips.
The witness had at last remembered whom he had
met at the cemetery gate at the hour, or near the
hour, his wife lay dying in the lower part of the
city.
The effect was electrical. One of the spectators
—some country boor, no doubt—so far forgot him-
self as to cry out loud enough for all to hear:
"Tallman! Let us have Tallman!"
Of course he met with an instant rebuke, but I
did not wait to hear it, or to see order restored, for
a glance from the coroner had already sent me to
the door in search of this new witness.


202 THE FILIGREE BALL
My destination was the Cosmos Club, for Phil
Tallman and his habits and haunts were as well
known in Washington as the figure of Liberty on
the summit of the Capitol dome. When I saw him
I did not wonder. Never have I seen a more
amiable looking man, or one with a more absent-
minded expression. To my query as to whether
he had ever met Mr. Jeffrey at or near the en-
trance of Rock Creek Cemetery, he replied with an
amazed look and the quick response:
"Of course I did. It was the very night that his
wife— But what's up? You look excited for a
detective."
"Come to the morgue and see. This testimony
of yours will prove invaluable to Mr. Jeffrey."
I shall never forget the murmur of suppressed
excitement which greeted us as I reappeared before
coroner and jury accompanied by the gentleman
who had been called for in such peremptory tones a
short time before.
Mr. Jeffrey, who had attempted to rise at our
entrance, but seemed to lack the ability, gave a
faint smile as Tallman's good-natured face ap-
peared; and the coroner, feeling, perhaps, that
some cords are liable to break if stretched too
strongly, administered the oath and made the nec-
essary inquiries with as little delay as was com-
patible with the solemnity of the occasion.


"LET US HAVE TALLMAN!" 203
The result was an absolute proof that Mr. Jef-
frey had been near Soldiers' Home as late as
seven, which was barely fifteen minutes previous
to the hour Mrs. Jeffrey's watch was stopped by
her fall in the old house on Waverley Avenue. As
the distance between the two places could not be
compassed in that time, Mr. Jeffrey's alibi could
be regarded as established.
When we were all rising, glad of an adjournment
which restored free movement and an open inter-
change of speech, a sudden check in the general
rush called our attention back to Mr. Jeffrey. He
was standing facing Miss Tuttle, who was still
sitting in a strangely immovable attitude in her
old place. He had just touched her on the arm,
and now, with a look of alarm, he threw up the
veil which had kept her face hidden from all be-
holders.
A vision of loveliness greeted us, but that was
not all. It was an unconscious loveliness. Miss
Tuttle had fainted away, sitting upright in her
chair.


XV
WHITE BOW AND PINK
Mr. Jeffrey's examination and its triumphant
conclusion created a great furor in town. Topics
which had hitherto absorbed all minds were for-
gotten in the discussion of the daring attempt
which had been made by the police to fix crime upon
one of Washington's most esteemed citizens, and
the check which they had rightly suffered for this
outrage. What might be expected next? Some-
thing equally bold and reprehensible, of course, but
what? It was a question which at the next sitting
completely filled the inquest room.
To my great surprise, Mr. Jeffrey was recalled
to the stand. He had changed since the night be-
fore. He looked older, and while still handsome,—
for nothing could rob him of his regularity of
feature and extreme elegance of proportion,—
showed little of the spirit which, in spite of the pre-
vious day's depression, had upheld him through its
most trying ordeal and kept his eye bright, if only
from excitement. This was fact number one, and
804


WHITE BOW AND PINK 205
one which I stored away in my already well-fur-
nished memory.
Miss Tuttle sat in a less conspicuous position
than on the previous day, and Mr. Moore, her
uncle, was not there at all.
The testimony called for revived an old point
which, seemingly, had not been settled to the cor-
oner's satisfaction.
Had Mr. Jeffrey placed the small stand holding
the candelabrum on the spot where it had been
found? No. Had he carried into the house, at the
time of his acknowledged visit, the candles which
had been afterward discovered there? No. He had
had time to think since his hesitating and unsatis-
factory replies of the day before, and he was now
in a position to say that while he distinctly remem-
bered buying candles on his way to the Moore
house, he had not found them in his pocket on get-
ting there and had been obliged to make use of the
matches he always carried on his person in order to
find his way to the upstairs room where he felt pos-
itive he would find a candle.
This gave the coroner an opportunity to ask:
"And why did you expect to find a candle there?"
The answer astonished me and, I have no doubt,
many others.
"It was the room in which my wife had dressed
for the ceremony. It had not been disturbed since


206 THE FILIGREE BALL
that time. My wife had little ways of her own;
one was to complete her toilet by using a curling
iron on a little lock she wore over her temple. When
at home she heated this curling iron in the gas jet,
but there being no gas in the Moore house, I nat-
urally concluded that she had made use of a candle,
as the curl had been noticeable under her veil."
Oh, the weariness in his tone! I could scarcely
interpret it. Was he talking by rote, or was he
utterly done with life and all its interests? No one
besides myself seemed to note this strange passiv-
ity. To the masses he was no longer a suffering
man, but an individual from whom information
was to be got. The next question was a vital one.
He had accounted for one candle in the house;
-could he account for the one found in the tumbler
or for the one lying crushed and battered on the
closet floor?
He could not.
And now we aH observed a change of direction
in the inquiry. Witnesses were summoned to cor-
roborate Mr. Jeffrey's statements, statements which
it seemed to be the coroner's present wish to es-
tablish. First came the grocer who had sold Mr.
Jeffrey the candles. He acknowledged, much to
Jinny's discomfort, that an hour after Mr. Jef-
frey had left the store, he had found on the counter
the package which that gentleman had forgotten


WHITE BOW AND PINK 207
to take. Poor Jinny had not stayed long enough
to hear his story out. The grocer finished his tes-
timony by saying that immediately upon his dis-
covery he had sent the candles to Mr. Jeffrey's
house.
This the coroner caused to be emphasized to such
an extent that we were all convinced of its impor-
tance. But as yet his purpose was not evident save
to those who were more in his confidence than my-
self.
The other witnesses were men from Raucher's,
who had acted as waiters at the time of the mar-
riage. One of them testified that immediately on
Miss Moore's arrival he had been sent for a candle
and a box of matches. The other, that he had
carried up to her room a large candelabrum from
the drawing-room mantel. A pair of curling tongs
taken from the dressing table of this room was next
produced, together with other articles of toilet use
which had been allowed to remain there uncared
for, though they were of solid silver and of beau-
tiful design.
The next witness was a member of Mr. Jeffrey's
own household. Chloe was her name, and her good
black face worked dolefully as she admitted that
the package of candles which the grocer boy had
left on the kitchen table, with the rest of the gro-
ceries on the morning of that dreadful day when


208 THE FILIGREE BALL
"Missus" killed herself, was not to be found when
she came to put the things away. She had looked
and looked for it, but it was not there.
Further inquiry brought out the fact that but
one other member of the household was in the
kitchen when these groceries were delivered; and
that this person gave a great start when the boy
shouted out, "The candles there were bought by
Mr. Jeffrey," and hurried over to the table and
handled the packages, although Chloe did not see
her carry any of them away.
"And who was this person?"
"Miss Tuttle."
With the utterance of this name the veil fell from
the coroner's intentions and the purpose of this
petty but prolonged inquiry stood revealed. It was
to all a fearful and impressive moment. To me it
was as painful as it was triumphant. I had not anti-
cipated such an outcome when I put my wits to work
to prove that murder, and not suicide, was answer-
able for young Mrs. Jeffrey's death.
When the murmur which had hailed this startling
turn in the inquiry had subsided, the coroner drew
a deep breath, and, with an uneasy glance at the
jury, who, to a man, seemed to wish themselves
well out of this job, he dismissed the cook and sum-
moned a fresh witness.
Her name made the people stare.


WHITE BOW AND PINK 209
"Miss Nixon."
Miss Nixon! That was a name well known in
Washington; almost as well known as that of Uncle
David, or even of Mr. Tallman. What could this
quaint and characteristic little body have to do with
this case of doubtful suicide? A word will explain.
She was the person who, on the day before, had
made that loud exclamation when the box contain-
ing the ribbon and the pistol had been disclosed to
the jury.
As her fussy little figure came forward, some
nudged and some laughed, possibly because her bon-
net was not of this year's style, possibly because
her manner was peculiar and as full of oddities as
her attire. But they did not laugh long, for the
little lady's look was appealing, if not distressed.
The fact that she was generally known to possess
one of the largest bank accounts in the District,
made any marked show of disrespect toward her a
matter of poor judgment, if not of questionable
taste.
The box in the coroner's hand prepared us for
what was before us. As he opened it and disclosed
again the dainty white bow which, as I have before
said, was of rather a fantastic make, the whole
roomful of eager spectators craned forward and
were startled enough when he asked:
"Did you ever see a bow like this before?"


210 THE FILIGREE BALL
Her answer came in the faintest of tones.
"Yes, I have one like it; very like it; so like it
that yesterday I could not suppress an exclamation
on seeing this one."
"Where did you get the one you have? Who
fashioned it, I mean, or tied it for you, if that
is what I ought to say?"
"It was tied for me by—Miss Tuttle. She is a
friend of mine, or was—and a very good one; and
one day while watching me struggling with a piece
of ribbon, which I wanted made into a bow, she took
it from my hand and tied a knot for which I was
very much obliged to her. It was very pretty."
"And like this?"
"Almost exactly, sir."
"Have you that knot with you?"
She had.
"Will you show it to the jury?"
Heaving a sigh which she had much better have
suppressed, she opened a little bag she carried at
her side and took out a pink satin bow. It had been
tied by a deft hand; and more than one pair of
eyes fell significantly at sight of it.
Amid a silence which was intense, two or three
other witnesses were called to prove that Miss
Tuttle's skill in bow-tying was exceptional, and
was often made use of, not only by members of her


WHITE BOW AND PINE 211
Household, but, as in Miss Nixon's case, by out-
siders; the special style shown in the one under
consideration being the favorite.
During all this, I kept my eyes on Mr. Jeffrey.
It had now become so evident which way the cor-
oner's inquiries tended that I wished to be the first
to note their effect on him. It was less marked
than I had anticipated. The man seemed benumbed
by accumulated torment and stared at the wit-
nesses filing before him as if they were part of some
wild phantasmagoria which confused, without en-
lightening him. When finally several persons of
both sexes were brought forward to prove that
his attentions to Miss Tuttle had once been suffi-
ciently marked for an announcement of their en-
gagement to be daily looked for, he let his head fall
forward on his breast as if the creeping horror
which had seized him was too much for his brain if
not for his heart. The final blow was struck when
the man whom I had myself seen in Alexandria tes-
tified to the contretemps which had occurred in At-
lantic City; an additional point being given to it
by the repetition of some old conversation raked up
for the purpose, by which an effort was made to
prove that Miss Tuttle found it hard to forgive
injuries even from those nearest and dearest to her.
This subject might have been prolonged, but some


212 THE FILIGREE BALL
of the jury objected, and the time being now ripe
for the great event of the day, the name of the lady
herself was called.
After so significant a preamble, the mere utter-
ance of Miss Tuttle's name had almost the force of
an accusation; but the dignity with which she rose
calmed all minds, and subdued every expression of
feeling. I could but marvel at her self-poise
and noble equanimity, and asked myself if, in the
few days which had passed since first the murmur
of something more serious than suicide had gone
about, she had so schooled herself for all emergen-
cies that nothing could shake her self-possession,—
not even the suggestion that a woman of her beauty
and distinction could be concerned in a crime. Or
had she within herself some great source of
strength, which sustained her in this most dreadful
ordeal? All were on watch to see. When the veil
dropped from before her features and she stepped
into the full sight of the expectant crowd, it was
not the beauty of her face, notable and conspicuous
as that was, which roused the hum of surprise that
swept from one end of the room to the other, but
the calmness, almost the elevation of her manner,—
a calmness and elevation so unlooked for in the light
of the strange contradictions offered by the evi-
dence to which we had been listening for a day and


WHITE BOW AND PINK 218
a half, that all were affected; many inclined even
to believe her innocent of any undue connection
with her sister's death before she had stretched
forth her hand to take the oath.
I was no exception to the rest. Though I had
exerted myself from the first to bring matters to a
climax—but not to this one—I experienced such
a shock under the steady gaze of her sad but
gentle eyes, that I found myself recoiling before my
own presumption with something like secret shame
till I was relieved by the thought that a perfectly
innocent woman would show more feeling at so false
and cruel a position. I felt that only one with
something to conceal would turn so calm a front
upon men ready, as she knew, to fix upon her a
great crime. This conviction steadied me and
made me less susceptible to her grace and to the
tone of her quiet voice and the far-away sadness of
her look. She faltered only when by chance she
glanced at the shrinking figure of Francis Jeffrey.
Her name which she uttered without emphasis
and yet in a way to arouse attention sank into all
hearts with more or less disturbance.
"Alice Cora Tuttle!" How in days gone by, and
not so long gone by, either, those three words had
aroused the enthusiasm of many a gallant man and
inspired the toast at many a gallant feast! They


21 4 THE FILIGREE BALL
had their charm yet, if the heightened color ob-
servable on many a cheek there was a true index to
the quickening heart below.
"How are you connected with the deceased Mrs.
Jeffrey?"
"I am the child of her mother by a former hus-
band. We were half-sisters."
No bitterness in this statement, only an infinite
sadness. The coroner continued to question her.
He asked for an account of her childhood, and
forced her to lay bare the nature of her relations
with her sister. But little was gained by this, for
their relations seemed to have been of a sympathetic
character up to the time of Veronica's return from
school, when they changed somewhat; but how or
why, Miss Tuttle was naturally averse to saying.
Indeed she almost refused to do so, and the coroner,
feeling his point gained more by this refusal than
by any admission she might have made, did not
press this subject but passed on to what interested
us more: the various unexplained actions on her
part which pointed toward crime.
His first inquiry was in reference to the conver-
sation held between her and Mr. Jeffrey at the
time he visited her room. We had listened to his
account of it and now we wished to hear hers. But
the cue which had been given her by this very ac-
count had been invaluable to her, and her testi-


WHITE BOW AND PINK 215
mony naturally coincided with his. We found our-
selves not an inch advanced. They had talked of
her sister's follies and she had advised patience, and
that was all she could say on the subject—all she
would say, as we presently saw.
The coroner introduced a fresh topic.
"What can you tell us about the interview you
had with you sister prior to her going out on the
night of her death?"
"Very little, except that it differed entirely from
what is generally supposed. She did not come to my
room for conversation but simply to tell me that she
had an engagement. She was in an excited mood
but said nothing to alarm me. She even laughed
when she left me; perhaps to put me off my guard,
perhaps because she was no longer responsible."
"Did she know that Mr. Jeffrey had visited you
earlier in the day? Did she make any allusion to it,
I mean?"
"None at all. She shrugged her shoulders when
I asked if she was well, and anticipated all further
questions by running from the room. She was al-
ways capricious in her ways and never more so
than at that moment. Would to God that it had
been different! Would to God that she had shown
herself to be a suffering woman! Then I might
have reached her heart and this tragedy would
have been averted,"


216 THE FILIGREE BALL
The coroner favored the witness with a look of re-
spect, perhaps because his next question must nec-
essarily be cruel.
"Is that all you have to say concerning this im-
portant visit, the last you held with your sister be-
fore her death?"
"No, sir, there is something else, something
which I should like to relate to this jury. When she
came into my room, she held in her hand a white
ribbon; that is, she held the two ends of a long
satin ribbon which seemed to come from her pocket.
Handing those two ends to me, she asked me to tie
them about her wrist. 'A knot under and a bow on
top,' she said, 'so that it can not slip off.' As this
was something I had often been called on to do
for her, I showed no hesitation in complying with
her request. Indeed, I felt none. I thought it was
her fan or her bouquet she held concealed in the
folds of her dress, but it proved to be—Gentlemen,
you know what. I pray that you will not oblige
me to mention it."
It was such a stroke as no lawyer would have
advised her to make,—I heard afterward that she
had refused the offices of a dozen lawyers who had
proffered her their services. But uttered as it
was with a noble air and a certain dignified seren-
ity, it had a great effect upon those about her and


218 THE FILIGREE BALL
Again the tide swung back.
She seemed to feel the change but did not show
it in the way naturally looked for. Instead of
growing perturbed or openly depressed she bloomed
into greater beauty and confronted with steadier
eye, not us, but the men she instinctively faced as
the tide of her fortunes began to lower. Did the
coroner perceive this and recognize at last both
the measure of her attractions and the power they
were likely to carry with them? Perhaps, for his
voice took an acrid note as he declared:
"You had another errand in that room?"
She let her head droop just a trifle.
"Alas!" she murmured.
"You went to the book-shelves and took out a
book with a peculiar cover, a cover which Mr.
Jeffrey has already recognized as that of the book
in which he found a certain note."
"You have said it," she faltered.
"Did you take such a book out?"
"I did."
"For what purpose, Miss Tuttle?"
She had meant to answer quickly. But some
consideration made her hesitate and the words were
long in coming; when she did speak, it was to say:
"My sister asked another favor of me after I had
tied the ribbon. Pausing in her passage to the
door, she informed me in a tone quite in keeping


WHITE BOW AND PINK 219
with her whole manner, that she had left a note for
her husband in the book they were reading to-
gether. Her reason for doing this, she said, was the
very natural one of wishing him to come upon it by
chance, but as she had placed it in the front of the
book instead of in the back where they were read-
ing, she was afraid that he would fail to find it.
Would I be so good as to take it out for her and in-
sert it again somewhere near the end? She was in
a hurry or she would return and do it herself. As
she and Mr. Jeffrey had parted in anger, I hailed
with joy this evidence of her desire for a reconcilia-
tion, and it was in obedience to her request, the sin-
gularity of which did not strike me as forcibly then
as now, that I went to the shelves in her room and
took down the book."
"And did you find the note where she said?"
"Yes, and put it in toward the end of the story."
"Nothing more? Did you read the note?"
"It was folded," was Miss Tuttle's quiet answer.
Certainly this woman was a thoroughbred or else
she was an adept in deception such as few of us had
ever encountered. The gentleness of her manner,
the easy tone, the quiet eyes, eyes in whose dark
depths great passions were visible, but passions that
were under the control of an equally forcible will,
made her a puzzle to all men's minds; but it was a
fascinating puzzle that awoke a species of awe in


THE FILIGREE BALL
those who attempted to understand her. To all
appearances she was the unlikeliest woman possible
to cherish criminal intents, yet her answers were
rather clever than convincing, unless you allowed
yourself to be swayed by the look of her beautiful
face or the music of her rich, sad voice.
"You did not remain before these book-shelves
long?" observed the coroner.
"You have a witness who knows more about that
than I do," she suggested; and doubtless aware of
the temerity of this reply, waited with unmoved
countenance, but with a visibly bounding breast, for
what would doubtless prove a fresh attack.
It was a violent one and of a character she was
least fitted to meet. Taking up the box I have so
often mentioned, the coroner drew away the ribbon
lying on top and disclosed the pistol. In a moment
her hands were over her ears.
"Why do you do that?" he asked. "Did you
think I was going to discharge it?"
She smiled pitifully as she let her hands fall
again.
"I have a dread of firearms," she explained. "I
always have had. Now they are simply terrible to
me, and this one—"
"I understand," said the coroner, with a slight
glance in the direction of Durbin. They had evi-
dently planned this test together on the strength


WHITE BOW AND PINK 221
of an idea suggested to Durbin by her former
action when the memory of this shot was recalled
to her.
"Your horror seems to lie in the direction of the
noise they make," continued her inexorable inter-
locutor. "One would say you had heard this pistol
discharged."
Instantly a complete breaking-up of her hitherto
well maintained composure altered her whole aspect
and she vehemently cried:
"I did, I did. I was on Waverley Avenue that
night, and I heard the shot which in all probability
ended my sister's life. I walked farther than I in-
tended; I strolled into the street which had such
bitter memories for us and I heard—No, I was not
in search of my sister. I had not associated my
sister's going out with any intention of visiting
this house; I was merely troubled in mind and
anxious and—and—"
She had overrated her strength or her clever-
ness. She found herself unable to finish the sen-
tence, and so did not try. She had been led by the
impulse of the moment farther than she had in-
tended, and, aghast at her own imprudence, paused
with her first perceptible loss of courage before the
yawning gulf opening before her.
I felt myself seized by a very uncomfortable
dread lest her concealments and unfinished sen-


THE FILIGREE BALL
tences hid a guiltier knowledge of this crime than I
was yet ready to admit.
The coroner, who is an older man than myself,
betrayed a certain satisfaction but no dread. Never
did the unction which underlies his sharpest
speeches show more plainly than when he quietly
remarked:
"And so under a similar impulse you, as well as
Mr. Jeffrey, chose this uncanny place to ramble in.
To all appearance that old hearth acted much more
like a lodestone upon members of your family than
you were willing at one time to acknowledge."
This reference to words she had herself been
heard to use seemed to overwhelm her. Her calm-
ness fled and she cast a fleeting look of anguish at
Mr. Jeffrey. But his face was turned from sight,
and, meeting with no help there, or anywhere, in-
deed, save in her own powerful nature, she recov-
ered as best she could the ground she had lost and,
with a trembling question of her own, attempted to
put the coroner in fault and reestablish herself.
"You say 'ramble through.' Do you for a mo-
ment think that I entered that old house?"
"Miss Tuttle," was the grave, almost sad reply,
"did you not know that in some earth, dropped
from a flower-pot overturned at the time when a
hundred guests flew in terror from this house, there
is to be seen the mark of a footstep,—a footstep


WHITE BOW AND PINK
which you are at liberty to measure with your
own?"
"Ah!" she murmured, her hands going up to her
face.
But in another moment she had dropped them
and looked directly at the coroner.
"I walked there—I never said that I did not
walk there—when I went later to see my sister and
in sight of a number of detectives passed straight
through the halls and into the library."
"And that this footstep," inexorably proceeded
the coroner, "is not in a line with the main thor-
oughfare extending from the front to the back of
the house, but turned inwards toward the wall as if
she who made it had stopped to lean her head
against the partition?"
Miss Tuttle's head drooped. Probably she real-
ized at this moment, if not before, that the coroner
and jury had ample excuse for mistrusting one who
had been so unmistakably caught in a prevarica-
tion; possibly her regret carried her far enough
to wish she had not disdained all legal ad-
vice from those who had so earnestly offered it.
But though she showed alike her shame and her
disheartenment, she did not give up the struggle.
"If I went into the house," she said, "it was not
to enter that room. I had too great a dread of it.
If I rested my head against the wall it was in terror


224 THE FILIGREE BALL
of that shot. It came so suddenly and was so
frightful, so much more frightful than anything
you can conceive."
"Then you did enter the house?"
"I did."
"And it was while you were inside, instead of out-
side, that you heard the shot?"
"I must admit that, too. I was at the library
door."
"You acknowledge that?"
"I do."
"But you did not enter the library?"
"No, not then; not till I was taken back by the
officer who told me of my sister's death."
"We are glad to hear this precise statement from
you. It encourages me to ask again the nature of
the freak which took you into this house. You say
that it was not from any dread on your sister's ac-
count? What, then, was it? No evasive answer will
satisfy us, Miss Tuttle."
She realized this as no one else could.
Mr. Jeffrey's reason for his visit there could not
be her reason, yet what other had she to give? Ap-
parently none.
"I can not answer," she said.
And the deep sigh which swept through the room
was but an echo of the despair with which she
saw herself brought to this point.
"We will not oblige you to," said the coroner


WHITE BOW AND PINK 225
with apparent consideration. But to those who
knew the law against forcing a witness to incrim-
inate himself, this was far from an encouraging
concession.
"However," he now went on, with suddenly as-
sumed severity, "you may answer this. Was the
house dark or light when you entered it? And how
did you get in?"
"The house was dark, and I got in through the
front door, which I found ajar."
"You are more courageous than most women! I
fear there are few of your sex who could be induced
to enter it in broad daylight and under every suit-
able protection."
She raised her figure proudly.
"Miss Tuttle, you have heard Chloe say that you
were in the kitchen of Mr. Jeffrey's house when the
grocer boy delivered the candles which had been left
by your brother-in-law on the counter of the store
where he bought them. Is this true?"
"Yes, sir, it is true."
"Did you see those candles?"
"No, sir."
"You did not see them?"
"No, sir."
"Yet you went over to the table?"
"Yes, sir, but I did not meddle with the pack-
ages. I had really no business with them."
The coroner, surveying her sadly, went quickly


226 THE FILIGREE BALL
on as if anxious to terminate this painful examina-
tion.
"You have not told us what you did when you
heard that pistol-shot."
"I ran away as soon as I could move; I ran
madly from the house."
"Where?"
"Home."
"But it was half-past ten when you got home."
"Was it?"
"It was half-past ten when the man came to tell
you of your sister's death."
"It may have been."
"Your sister is supposed to have died in a few
minutes. Where were you in the interim?"
"God knows. I do not."
A wild look was creeping into her face, and her
figure was swaying. But she soon steadied it. I
have never seen a more admirable presence main-
tained in the face of a dreadful humiliation.
"Perhaps I can help you," rejoined the coroner,
not unkindly. "Were you not in the Congressional
Library looking up at the lunettes and gorgeously
painted walls?"
"I?" Her eyes opened wide in wondering doubt.
"If I was, I did not know it. I have no remem-
brance of it."
She seemed to lose sight of her present


WHITE BOW AND PINK 227
position, the cloud under which she rested, and even
the construction which might be put upon such a
forgetfulness at a time confessedly prior to her
knowledge of the purpose and effect of the shot
from which she had so incontinently fled.
"Your condition of mind and that of Mr.
Jeffrey seem to have been strangely alike," re-
marked the coroner.
"No, no!" she protested.
"Arguing a like source."
"No, no," she cried again, this time with posi-
tive agony. Then with an effort which awakened re-
spect for her powers of mind, if for nothing else,
she desperately added: "I can not say what was in
his heart that night, but I know what was in mine:
dread of that old house, to which I had been drawn
in spite of myself, possibly by the force of the
tragedy going on inside it, culminating in a delir-
ium of terror, which sent me flying in an opposite
direction from my home and into places I had been
accustomed to visit when my heart was light and
untroubled."
The coroner glanced at the jury, who uncon-
sciously shook their heads. He shook his, too, as he
returned to the charge.
"Another question, Miss Tuttle. When you
heard a pistol-shot sounding from the depths of
that dark library, what did you think it meant?"


228 THE FILIGREE BALL
She put her hands over her ears—it seemed as if
she could not prevent this instinctive expression of
recoil at the mention of the death-dealing weapon
—and in very low tones replied:
"Something dreadful; something superstitious.
It was night, you remember, and at night one has
such horrible thoughts."
"Yet an hour or two later you declared that
the hearth was no lodestone. You forgot its hor-
rors and your superstition upon returning to your
own house."
"It might be," she murmured; "but if so, they
soon returned. I had reason for my horror, if not
for my superstition, as the event showed."
The coroner did not attempt to controvert this.
He was about to launch a final inquiry.
"Miss Tuttle, upon the return of yourself and
Mr. Jeffrey to your home after your final visit to
the Moore house, did you have any interview that
was without witnesses?"
"No."
"Did you exchange any words?"
"I think we did exchange some words; it would
be only natural."
"Are you willing to state what words?"
She looked dazed and appeared to search her
memory.
"I don't think I can," she objected.


WHITE BOW AND PINK 229
"But something was said by you and some an-
swer was made by him?"
"I believe so."
"Can not you say definitely?"
"We did speak."
"In English?"
"No, in French."
"Can not you translate that French for us?"
"Pardon me, sir; it was so long ago my memory
fails me."
"Is it any better for the second and longer inter-
view between you the next day?"
"No—sir."
"You can not give us any phrase or word that
was uttered there?"
"No."
"Is this your final reply on this subject?"
"It is." ^
She never had been subjected to an interrogation
like this before. It made her proud soul quiver in
revolt, notwithstanding the patience with which she
had fortified herself. With red cheeks and glisten-
ing eyes she surveyed the man who had made her
suffer so, and instantly every other man there suf-
fered with her; excepting possibly Durbin, whose
heart was never his strong point. But our hearts
were moved, our reasons were not convinced, as was
presently shown, when, with a bow of dismissal, the


230 THE FILIGREE BALL
coroner released her, and she passed back to her
seat.
Simultaneously with her withdrawal the gleam
of sensibility left the faces of the jury, and the
dark and brooding look which had marked their
countenances from the beginning returned, and re-
turned to stay.
What would their verdict be? There were pres-
ent two persons who affected to believe that it would
be one of suicide occasioned by dementia. These
were Miss Tuttle and Mr. Jeffrey, who, now that
the critical period had come, straightened them-
selves boldly in their seats and met the glances con-
centrated upon them with dignity, if not with the
assurance of complete innocence. But from the
carefulness with which they avoided each other's
eyes and the almost identical expression mirrored
upon both faces, it was visible to all that they re-
garded their cause as a common one, and that the
link which they denied, as having existed between
them prior to Mrs. Jeffrey's death, had in some
way been supplied by that very tragedy; so that
they now unwittingly looked with the same eyes,
breathed with the same breath, and showed them-
selves responsive to the same fluctuations of hope
and fear.
The celerity with which that jury arrived at its
verdict was a shock to us all. It had been a quiet


WHITE BOW AND PINK 231
body, offering but little assistance to the coroner
in his questioning; but when it fell to these men to
act, the precision with which they did so was aston-
ishing. In a half-hour they returned from the
room into which they had adjourned, and the fore-
man gave warning that he was prepared to render
a verdict.
Mr. Jeffrey and Miss Tuttle both clenched their
hands; then Miss Tuttle pulled down her veil.
"We find," said the solemn foreman, "that Veron-
ica Moore Jeffrey, who on the night of May elev-
enth was discovered lying dead on the floor of her
own unoccupied house in Waverley Avenue, came to
her death by means of a bullet, shot from a pistol
connected to her wrist by a length of white satin
ribbon.
"That the first conclusion of suicide is not fully
sustained by the facts;
"And that attempt should be made to identify
the hand that fired this pistol."
It was as near an accusation of Miss Tuttle as
was possible without mentioning her name. A
groan passed through the assemblage, and Mr.
Jeffrey, bounding to his feet, showed an inclination
to shout aloud in his violent indignation. But Miss
Tuttle, turning toward him, lifted her hand with a
commanding gesture and held it so till he sat down
again.


232 THE FILIGREE BALL
It was both a majestic and an utterly incompre-
hensible movement on her part, giving to the close
of these remarkable proceedings a dramatic climax
which set all hearts beating and, I am bound to say,
all tongues wagging till the room cleared.


XVI
AN EGOTIST OF THE FIEST WATEE
Had the control of affairs been mine at this mo-
ment I am quite positive that I should have found
it difficult to deny these two the short interview
which they appeared to crave and which would have
been to them such an undeniable comfort. But a
sterner spirit than mine was in charge, and the
district attorney, into whose hands the affair had
now fallen, was inexorable. Miss Tuttle was treated
with respect, with kindness, even, but she was not
allowed any communication with her brother-in-law
beyond the formal "Good afternoon" incident upon
their separation; while he, scorning to condemn his
lips to any such trite commonplace, said nothing at
all, only looked a haggard inquiry which called
forth from her the most exalted look of patience
and encouraging love it has ever been my good for-
tune to witness. Durbin was standing near and saw
this look as plainly as I did, but it did not impose
on him, he said. But what in the nature of human
woe could impose on him? Durbin is a machine—a
283


234 THE FILIGREE BALL
very reliable and useful machine, no doubt, yet
when all is said, a simple contrivance of cogs and
wheels; while I—well, I hope that I am something
more than that; or why was I a changed man
toward her from the moment I saw the smile which
marked this accused woman's good by to Francis
Jeffrey. No longer believing in her guilt, I went
about my business with tumult in brain and heart,
asking in my remorse for an opportunity to show
her some small courtesy whereby to relieve the tor-
ture I felt at having helped the coroner in the in-
quiries which had brought about what looked to me
now like a cruel and unwarranted result.
That it should be given to Durbin to hold such
surveillance over her as her doubtful position de-
manded added greatly to my discomfort. But I
was enabled to keep my lips firmly shut over any
expression of secret jealousy or displeasure; and
this was fortunate, as otherwise I might have failed
to obtain the chance of aiding her later on, in other
and deeper matters.
Meanwhile, and before any of us had left this
room, one fact had become apparent. Mr. Jeffrey
was not going to volunteer any fresh statement in
face of the distinct disapproval of his sister-in-law.
As his eye fell upon the district attorney, who hr.,1
lingered near, possibly in the hope of getting some-
thing more from this depressed and almost insensi-


EGOTIST OF THE FIRST WATER 235
ble man, he made one remark, but it was an auto-
matic one, calculated to produce but little effect on
the discriminating ears of this experienced official.
"I do not believe that my wife was murdered."
This was what he said. "It was a wicked verdict.
My wife killed herself. Wasn't the pistol found tied
,to her?"
Either from preoccupation or a dazed condition
of mind, he seemed to forget that Miss Tut-
tle had owned to tying on this pistol; and that
nothing but her word went to prove that this was
done before and not after the shot had been deliv-
ered in the Moore house library. I thought I un-
derstood him and was certain that I sympathized
with his condition; but in the ears of those less
amiably disposed toward him, his statements had
lost force and the denial went for little.
Meanwhile a fact which all had noted and com-
mented on had recurred to my mind and caused
me to ask a brother officer who was walking out be-
side me what he thought of Mr. Moore's absence
from an inquiry presumably of such importance to
all members of this family.
The fellow laughed and said:
"Old Dave has lost none of his peculiarities in
walking into his fortune. This is his day at the
cemetery. Didn't you know that? He will let
nothing on earth get in the way of his pilgrimage to


236 THE FILIGREE BALL
that spot on the twenty-third of May, much less so
trivial an occurrence as an inquest over the remains
of his nearest relative."
I felt my gorge rise; then a thought struck me
and I asked how long the old gentleman kept up
his watch.
"From sunrise to sundown, the boys say. I never
saw him there myself. My beat lies in an opposite
direction."
I left him and started for Rock Creek Cemetery.
There were two good hours yet before sundown
and I resolved to come upon Uncle David at his
post.
It took just one hour and a quarter to get there
by the most direct route I could take. Five minutes
more to penetrate the grounds to where a superb
vehicle stood, drawn by two of the finest horses I
had seen in Washington for many a long day. As I
was making my way around this equipage I came
upon a plot in a condition of upheaval preparatory
to new sodding and the planting of several choice
shrubs. In the midst of the sand thus exposed a
single head-stone rose. On his knees beside this
simple monument I saw the figure of Uncle David,
dressed in his finest clothes and showing in his odd-
ly contorted face the satisfaction of great prosper-
ity, battling with the dissatisfaction of knowing
that one he had so loved had not lived to share his


EGOTIST OF THE FIRST WATER 237
elevation. He was rubbing away the mold from the
name which, by his own confession, was the only one
to which his memory clung in sympathy or endear-
ment. At his feet lay an open basket, in which I de-
tected the remains of what must have been a rather
sumptuous cold repast. To all appearance he had
foregone none of his ancient customs; only those
customs had taken on elegance with his rise in for-
tune. The carriage and the horses, and most of all,
the imperturbable driver, seemed to awaken some
awe in the boys. They were still in evidence, but
they hung back sheepishly and eyed the basket of
neglected food as if they hoped he would forget to
take it away. Meanwhile the clattering of chains
against the harness, the pawing of the horses and
the low exclamations of the driver caused me the
queerest feelings. Advancing quite unceremoni-
ously upon the watcher by the grave, I remarked
aloud:
"The setting sun will soon release you, Mr.
Moore. Are you going immediately into town?"
He paused in his rubbing, which was being done
with a very tender hand, and as if he really loved
the name he was endeavoring to bring into plainer
view. Scowling a little, he turned and met me
point-blank with a look which had a good deal of
inquiry in it.
"I am not usually interrupted here," he em-


238 THE FILIGREE BALL
phasized; "except by the boys," he added more
mildly. "They sometimes approach too closely,
but I am used to the imps and scarcely notice them.
Ah! there are some of my old friends now! Well,
it is time they knew that a change has taken place
in my fortunes. Hi, there! Hands up and catch
this, and this, and this!" he shouted. "But keep
quiet about it or next year you will get pennies
again."
And flinging quarters right and left, he smiled
in such a pompous, self-satisfied way at the hurrah
and scramble which ensued, that it was well worth
my journey there just to see this exhibition of com-
bined vanity and good humor.
"Now go!" he vociferated; and the urchins,
black and white, flew away, flinging up their heels
in delight and shouting: "Bully for you, Uncle
David! We'll come again next year, not for twen-
ty-fives but fifties."
"I will make it dollars if I only live so long," he
muttered. And deigning now to remember the ques-
tion I had put to him, he grandly remarked:
"I am going straight into town. Can I do any-
thing for you?"
"Nothing. I thought you might like to know
what awaits you there. The city is greatly stirred
up. The coroner's jury in the Jeffrey-Moore case
has just brought in a verdict to the effect that


EGOTIST OF THE FIRST WATER 239
suicide has not been proved. Naturally, this is
equivalent to one of murder."
"Ah!" he ejaculated, slightly taken aback for
one so invariably impassive.
"And to whom is the guilt of this crime
ascribed?" he presently ventured.
"There was mention of no name; but the oppro-
brium naturally falls on Miss Tuttle."
"Miss Turtle? Ah!"
"Since Mr. Jeffrey is proved to have been too far
away at the time to have fired that shot, while
she—"
"I am following you—"
"Was in the very house—at the door of the
library in fact—and heard the pistol discharged, if
she did not discharge it herself—which some be-
lieve, notably the district attorney. You should
have been there, Mr. Moore."
He looked surprised at this suggestion.
"I never am anywhere but here on the twenty-
third of May," he declared.
"Miss Tuttle needed some adviser."
"Ah, probably."
"You would have been a good one."
"And a welcome one, eh?"
I hardly thought he would have been a welcome
one, but I did not admit the fact. Nevertheless he
seized on the advantage he evidently thought he


240 THE FILIGREE BALL
had gained and added, mildly enough, or rather
without any display of feeling:
"Miss Tuttle likes me even less than Veronica
did. I do not think she would have accepted, cer-
tainly she would not have desired, my presence in
her counsels. But of one thing I wish her to be
assured, her and the world in general. Any money
she may need at this—at this unhappy crisis in her
life, she will find amply supplied. She has no
claims on me, but that makes little difference where
the family honor is concerned. Her mother's hus-
band was my brother—the girl shall have all she
needs. I will write her so."
He was moving toward his carriage.
"Fine turnout?" he interrogatively remarked.
I assented with all the surprise,—with all the
wonder even—which his sublime egotism seemed to
invite.
"It is the best that Downey could raise in the
time I allotted him. When I really finger the
money, we shall see, we shall see."
His foot was on the carriage-step. He looked up
at the west. The sun was almost down but not
quite. "Have you any special business with me?"
he asked, lingering with what I thought a surpris-
ing display of conscientiousness till the last ray of
direct sunlight had disappeared.


EGOTIST OF THE FIRST WATER 241
I glanced up at the coachman sitting on his box
an rigid as any stone.
"You may speak," said he; "Csesar neither hears
nor sees anything but his horses when he drives me."
The black did not wink. He was as completely
at home on the box and as quiet and composed in his
service as if he had driven this man for years.
"He understands his duty," finished the master,
but with no outward appearance of pride. "What
have you to say to me?"
I hesitated no longer.
"Miss Tuttle is supposed to have secretly entered
the Moore house on the night you summoned us.
She even says she did. I know that you have sworn
to having seen no one go into that house; but not-
withstanding this, haven't you some means at your
disposal for proving to the police and to the world
at large that she never fired that fatal shot? Pub-
lic opinion is so cruel. She will be ruined whether
innocent or guilty, unless it can be very plainly
shown that she did not enter the library prior to
going there with the police."
"And how can you suppose me to be in a posi-
tion to prove that? Say that I had sat in my front
window all that evening, and watched with uninter-
rupted assiduity the door through which so many
are said to have passed between sunset and mid-


242 THE FILIGREE BALL
night—Something which I did not do, as I have
plainly stated on oath—how could you have ex-
pected me to see what went on in the black interior
of a house whose exterior is barely discernible at
night across the street?"
"Then you can not aid her?" I asked.
With a light bound he leaped into the carriage.
As he took his seat he politely remarked:
"I should be glad to, since, though not a Moore,
she is near enough the family to affect its honor.
But not having even seen her enter the house I can
not testify in any way in regard to her. Home,
Caesar, and drive quickly. I do not thrive under
these evening damps."
And leaning back, with an inexpressible air of
contentment with himself, his equipage and the
prospect of an indefinite enjoyment of the same,
the last representative of the great Moore family
was quietly driven away.


XVII
A FEESH STAB.T
11 was far from being good company that night.
I knew this without being told. My mind was too
busy. I was too full of regrets and plans, reason-
ings and counter reasonings. In my eyes Miss Tut-
tle had suddenly become innocent, consequently a
victim. But a victim to what? To some exagger-
ated sense of duty? Possibly; but to what duty?
That was the question, to answer which offhand I
would, in my present excitement, have been ready
to sacrifice a month's pay.
For I was moved, not only by the admiration and
sympathy which all men must feel for a beautiful
woman caught in such a deadly snare of circum-
stantial evidence, but by the conviction that Dur-
bin, whose present sleek complacency was more of-
fensive to me than the sneering superiority of a
week ago, believed her to be a guilty woman,
and as such his rightful prey. This alone would
have influenced me to take the opposite view; for we
never ran along together, and in a case where any
243


244 THE FILIGREE BALL
division of opinion was possible, always found our-
selves, consciously or unconsciously, on different
sides. Yet I did not really dislike Durbin, who is a
very fine fellow. I only hated his success and the
favor which rewarded it.
I know that I have some very nasty failings and
I do not shrink from owning them. My desire
is to represent myself as I am, and I must admit
that it was not entirely owing to disinterested mo-
tives that I now took the secret stand I did in Miss
Tuttle's favor. To prove her innocent whom once
I considered the cause of, if not the guilty acces-
sory to her sister's murder, now became my dream
by night and my occupation by day. Though I
seemed to have no sympathizer in this effort and
though the case against her was being pushed
very openly in the district attorney's office, yet
-I clung to my convictions with an almost insensate
persistence, inwardly declaring her the victim of
circumstances, and hoping against hope that some
clue would offer itself by means of which I might
yet prove her so.
But where was I to seek for this clue?
Alas, no ready answer to this very important
query was forthcoming. All possible evidence in
this case seemed to have been exhausted save such
as Mr. Jeffrey and Miss Tuttle withheld. And so
the monstrous accusation stood, and before it all


A FRESH START 245
Washington—my humble self included—stood in a
daze of mingled doubt and compassion, hunting for
explanations which failed to appear and seeking in
vain for some guiltier party, who evermore slipped
from under our hand.
Had Mr. Jeffrey's alibi been less complete he
could not have stood up against the suspicions
which now ran riot. But there was no possibility
of shifting the actual crime back to him after the
testimony of so frank and trustworthy a man as
Tallman. If the stopping of Mrs. Jeffrey's watch
fixed the moment of her death as accurately as was
supposed,—and I never heard the least doubt
thrown out in this regard,—he could not by any
means of transit then known in Washington have
reached Waverley Avenue in time to fire that shot.
The gates of the cemetery were closed at sundown;
sundown took place that night at one minute past
seven, and the distance into town is considerable.
His alibi could not be gainsaid. So his name failed
to be publicly broached in connection with the
shooting, though his influence over Miss Tuttle
could not be forgotten, suggesting to some that she
had acted as his hand in the deed which robbed him
of an undesirable wife. But this I would not be-
lieve. I preferred to accept the statement that she
had stopped short of the library door in her sus-
picious visit there, and that the ribbon-tying,


246 THE FILIGREE BALL
which went for so much, had been done at home.
That these facts, especially the latter, called for
more than common credulity, I was quite ready to
acknowledge; and had her feeling for Francis Jef-
frey shown less unselfishness, I should certainly
have joined my fellows in regarding these asser-
tions as very lame attempts to explain what could
only be explained by a confession of guilt.
So here was a tangle without a frayed end
to pull at, unless the impervious egotism of
Uncle David afforded one, which I doubted.
For how could any man with a frightful secret in
his breast show that unmixed delight in his new
equipage and suddenly acquired position, which
had so plainly beamed from that gentleman's calm
eye and assured bearing? When he met my scru-
tiny in the sacred precincts where the one love of
his heart lay buried, he did so without a quiver or
any sign of inner disturbance. His tone to Cassar
as he drove off had been the tone of a man who can
afford to speak quietly because he is conscious of
being so undeniably the master; and when his foot
rose to the carriage step it was with the confidence
of one who had been kept out of his rights for most
of his natural life, but who feels in his present en-
joyment of them no apprehension of a change. His
whole bearing and conversation on that day were, as
I am quite ready to admit, an exhibition of prodig-


A FRESH START 247
ious selfishness; but it was also an exhibition of
mental poise incompatible with a consciousness of
having acquired his fortune by any means which
laid him open to the possibility of losing it. Or so
I judged.
Finding myself, with every new consideration
of the tantalizing subject, deeper and deeper in the
quagmire of doubt and uncertainty, I sought en-
lightenment by making a memorandum of the
special points which must have influenced the jury
in their verdict, as witness:
1. The relief shown by Mr. Jeffrey at finding
an apparent communication from his wife hinting
at suicide.
2. The possibility, disclosed by the similarity
between the sisters' handwriting, of this same com-
munication being a forgery substituted for the one
really written by Mrs. Jeffrey.
8. The fact that, previous to Mr. Jeffrey's
handling of the book in which this communication
was said to have been hidden, it had been seen in
Miss Tuttle's hands.
4. That immediately after this she had passed
to the drawer where Mr. Jeffrey's pistol was kept.
5. That while this pistol had not been observed
in her hand, there was as yet no evidence to prove
that it had been previously taken from the drawer,
save such as was afforded by her own acknowledg-


248 THE FILIGREE BALL
ment that she had tied some unknown object, pre-
sumably the pistol, to her sister's wrist before that
sister left the house.
6. That if this was so, the pistol and the rib-
bon connecting it with Mrs. Jeffrey's wrist had
been handled again before the former was dis-
charged, and by fingers which had first touched
dust—of which there was plenty in the old library.
7. That Miss Tuttle had admitted, though not
till after much prevarication and apparent subter-
fuge, that she had extended her walk on that fatal
night not only as far as the Moore house, but that
she had entered it and penetrated as far as the
library door at the very moment the shot was fired
within.
8. That in acknowledging this she had emphat-
ically denied having associated the firing of this
shot with any idea of harm to her sister; yet was
known to have gone from this house in a condition
of mind so serious that she failed to recollect the
places she visited or the streets she passed through
till she found herself again in her sister's house
face to face with an officer.
9. That her first greeting of this officer was a
shriek, betraying a knowledge of his errand before
he had given utterance to a word.
10. That the candles found in the Moore house


250 THE FILIGREE BALL
to Mr. Jeffrey, and the home which had been given
her, had both been forfeited by Mrs. Jeffrey's
death.
As I mused and mused over this impromptu
synopsis, in my vain attempt to reach some fresh
clue to a proper understanding of the inconsisten-
cies in Miss Tuttle's conduct by means of my theory
of her strong but mistaken devotion to Mr. Jeffrey,
a light suddenly broke upon me from an entirely
unexpected quarter. It was a faint one, but
any glimmer was welcome. Remembering a re-
mark made by Mr. Jeffrey in his examination, that
Mrs. Jeffrey had not been the same since crossing
the fatal doorstep of the Moore house, I asked my-
self if we had paid enough attention to the mental
condition and conduct of the bride prior to the
alarm which threw a pall of horror over her mar-
riage; and caught by the idea, I sought for a
fuller account of the events of that day than had
hitherto been supplied by newspaper or witness.
Hunting up my friend, the reporter, I begged
him to tell me where he had obtained the facts
from which he made that leading article in the Star
which had so startled all Washington on the even-
ing of the Jeffrey wedding. That they had come
from some eye-witness I had no doubt, but who was
the eye-witness? Himself? No. Who then? At
first he declined to tell me, but after a fuller under-


A FRESH START 251
standing of my motives he mentioned the name of
a young lady, who, while a frequent guest at the
most fashionable functions, was not above supply-
ing the papers with such little items of current gos-
sip as came under her own observation.
How I managed to approach this lady and by
what means I succeeded in gaining her confidence
are details quite unnecessary to this narrative.
Enough that I did obtain access to her and that
she talked quite frankly to me, and in so doing sup-
plied me with a clue which ultimately opened up to
me an entirely new field of inquiry.
We had been discussing Mr. Jeffrey and Miss
Tuttle, when suddenly, and with no apparent mo-
tive beyond the natural love of gossip which was
her weakness, she launched out into remarks about
the bride. The ceremony had been late; did I
know it? A half-hour or three quarters past the
time set for it. And why? Because Miss Moore
was not ready. She had chosen to array herself
in the house and had come early enough for the
purpose; but she would not accept any assistance,
not even that of her maid, and of course she kept
every one waiting. "Oh, there was no more un-
easy soul in the whole party that morning than
the bride!" Let other people remark upon the high
look in Cora Tuttle's face, or gossip about the
anxious manner of the bridegroom; she, the speak-


252 THE FILIGREE BALL
er, could tell things about the bride which would
go to show that she was not all right even before
that ominous death's-head reared itself into view
at her marriage festival. Why, the fact that she
came downstairs and was married without her
bridal bouquet was enough. Had there not been
so much else to talk about, people would have talked
about that. But the big event had so effectually
swallowed up the little that only herself, and pos-
sibly two other ladies she might name, seemed to
retain any memory of the matter.
"What ladies?" I asked.
"Oh, it doesn't matter what ladies. Two of the
very best sort. I know they noticed it, because I
heard them talking about it. We were all standing
in the upper hall and were all crowded into a pas-
sage leading to the room where the bride was dress-
ing. It was before the alarm had gone around of
what had been discovered in the library, and we
were all impatient enough for the appearance of
the bride, who, we had been told, intended to wear
the old point in which her great-grandmother was
married. I have a weakness for old point and I
was determined to stand where I could see her come
out, even if I lost sight of the ceremony itself. But
it would have been tedious enough waiting in that
close hall if the ladies behind me had not kept up a
conversation, which I, of course, pretended not to


A FRESH START 253
hear. I remember it, every word, for it was my
sole amusement for half an hour. What was it?
Oh, it was about that same bouquet, which, by the
way, I had the privilege of staring at all the time
they chatted. For the boy who brought it had not
been admitted into Miss Moore's room, and, not
knowing what else to do with it, was lingering be-
fore her door, with the great streamers falling
from his hands, and the lilies making the whole
place heavy with a sickening perfume. From what
I heard the ladies say, he had been standing there
an hour, and the timid knock he gave from time
to time produced in me an odd feeling which those
ladies behind me seemed to share.
"'It's a shame!' I heard one of them cry. , 'Ve-
ronica Moore has no excuse for such thoughtless-
ness. It is an hour now that she has been shut up
in her room alone. She won't have even her maid
in. She prefers to dress alone, she says. Pecu-
liar in a bride, isn't it? But one thing is certain:
she can not put on her veil without help. She will
have to call some one in for that.' At which the
other volunteered that the Moores were all queer,
and that she didn't envy Francis Jeffrey. 'What!
not with fifty thousand a year to lighten her oddi-
ties?' returned her companion with a shrug which
communicated itself to me, so closely were we
packed together. 'I have a son who could bear


254 THE FILIGREE BALL
with them under such circumstances.' Indeed she
has, and all Washington knows it, but the remark
passed without comment, for they had not yet ex-
hausted the main event, and the person they now
attacked was Miss Tuttle. 'Why doesn't she come
and see that that bouquet is taken in? I declare
it's not decent. Mr. Jeffrey would not feel com-
plimented if he knew the fate of those magnificent
lilies and roses. I presume he furnished the bou-
quet.'
"'Miss Tuttle has looked out of her room once,'
I heard the other reply. 'She is in splendid beauty
to-day, but pale. But she never could control
Veronica.' 'Hush! you speak louder than you
think.' This amused me, and I do believe that in
another moment I should have laughed outright if
another boy had not appeared in the hall before
us, who, shoving aside the first, rapped on the door
with a spirit which called for, answer. But he was
no more successful than the other boy had been;
so, being a brisk fellow, with no time for nonsense,
he called out, 'Your bouquet, Miss, and a message,
which I am to give you before you go downstairs!
The gentleman is quite particular about it.' These
words were literally shouted at the door, but in the
hubbub of voices about us I don't believe any one
heard them but ourselves and the bride. I know
that she heard them, for she opened the door a very


A FRESH START 255
little way,—such a very little way that the boy had
to put his lips to the crack when he spoke, and
then turn and place his ear where his lips had been
in order to catch her reply. This, for some reason,
seemed a long time in coming, and the fellow grew
so impatient that he amused himself by snatching
the bouquet from the other boy and thrusting it in
through the crack, to the very great detriment of
its roses and lilies. When she took it he bawled
for his answer, and when he got it, he stared and
muttered doubtfully to himself as he worked his
way out again through the crowd, which by this
time was beginning to choke up all the halls and
stairways.
"But why have I told you all this nonsense?"
she asked quite suddenly. "It isn't of the least
consequence that Veronica Moore kept a boy wait-
ing at her door while she dressed herself for her
wedding; but it shows that she was queer even then,
and I for one believe in the theory of suicide, and
in that alone, and in the excuse she gave for it, too;
for if she had really loved Francis Jeffrey she
would not have been so slow to take in the magnifi-
cent bouquet he had provided for her."
But comment, even from those who had known
these people well, was not what I wanted at this
moment, but facts. So, without much attention to
these words, I said:


256 THE FILIGREE BALL
"You will excuse me if I suggest that you are
going on too fast. The door of the bride's room
has just been shut upon the boy who brought her a
message. When was it opened again?"
"Not for a good half-hour; not till every one
had grown nervous and Miss Tuttle and one or two
of her most intimate friends had gone more than
once to her door; not, in fact, till the hour for the
ceremony had come and gone and Mr. Jeffrey had
crossed the hall twice under the impression that
she was ready for him. Then, when weariness was
general and people were asking what kept the bride
and how much longer they were to be kept waiting,
her door suddenly opened and I caught a glimpse
of her face and heard her ask at last for her maid.
O, I repeat that Veronica Moore was not all right
that day, and though I have heard no one com-
ment on the fact, it has been a mystery to me ever
since why she gave that sudden recoil when Francis
Jeffrey took her hand after the benediction. It
was not timidity, nor was it fear, for she did not
know till a minute afterward what had happened
in the house. Did some sudden realization of what
she had done in marrying a man whom she herself
declared she did not love come when it was too late?
What do you think?"
Miss Freeman had forgotten herself; but the im-
petuosity which had led her into asking my opin-


A FRESH START 257
ion made her forget in another moment that she had
done so. And when in my turn I propounded a
question and inquired whether she ever again saw
the boy who besieged the bride's door with a mes-
sage, she graciously replied:
"The boy; let me see. Yes, I saw him twice;
once in a back hall talking earnestly to Mr. Jeffrey,
and secondly at the carriage door just before the
bridal party rode away. It was Mrs. Jeffrey who
was talking to him then, and I wondered to see him
look so pleased when everybody in and about the
house was pale as ashes."
"Do you know the name of that boy?" I care-
lessly inquired.
"His name? O no. He is one of Raucher's
waiters; the curly-haired one. You see him every-
where; but I don't know his name. Do you flatter
yourself that he can tell you anything that other
people don't know? Why, if he knew the least
thing that wasn't in everybody's mouth, you would
have heard from him long ago. Those men are
the greatest gossips in town"—I wonder what she
thought of herself,—"and so proud to be of any
importance." This was true enough, though I
did not admit it at the time; and when the inter-
view was closed and I went away, I have no doubt
she considered me quite the most heavy person she
had ever met. But this did not disturb me. The


258 THE FILIGREE BALL
little facts she had stated were new to me and, re-
peating my former method, I was already busy
arranging them in my mind. Witness the result:
1. The ceremony of marriage between Francis
Jeffrey and Veronica Moore was fully three-quar-
ters of an hour late.
2. This was owing to the caprice of the bride,
who would not have any one in the room with her,
not even her maid.
3. The bridal bouquet did not figure in the cere-
mony. In the flurry of the moment it was forgot-
ten or purposely left behind by the bride. As
this bouquet was undoubtedly the gift of Mr. Jef-
frey, the fact may be significant.
4. She received a message of a somewhat per-
emptory character before going below. From
whom? Her bridegroom? It would so appear
from the character of the message.
5. The messenger showed great astonishment at
the reply he was given to carry back. Yet he has
not been known to mention the matter. Why?
When every one talked he was silent. Through
whose influence? This was something to find out.
6. Though at the time the benediction was pro-
nounced every one was in a state of alarm except
the bride, it was noticed that she gave an invol-
untary recoil when her bridegroom stooped for the
customary kiss. Why? Were the lines of her


A FRESH START 259
last farewell true then, and did she experience at
that moment a sudden realization of her lack of
love?
7. She did not go again upstairs, but very soon
fled from the house with the rest of the bridal
party.
Petty facts, all, but possibly more significant
than appeared. I made up my mind to find the boy
who brought the bouquet and also the one who
carried back her message.
But here a surprise, if not a check, awaited me.
The florist's boy had left his place and no one could
tell where he had gone. Neither could I find the
curly-haired waiter at Raucher's. He had left
also, but it was to join the volunteers at San An-
tonio.
Was there meaning in this coincidence? I re-
solved to know. Visiting the former haunts of
both boys, I failed to come upon any evidence of
an understanding between them, or of their having
shown any special interest in the Jeffrey tragedy.
Both seemed to have been strangely reticent in re-
gard to it, the florist's boy showing stupidity and
the waiter such satisfaction in his prospective sol-
diering that no other topic was deemed worthy his
attention. The latter had a sister and she could not
say enough of the delight her brother had shown
at the prospect of riding a horse again and of fight-


260 THE FILIGREE BALL
ing in such good company. He had had some ex-
perience as a cowboy before coming to Washing-
ton, and from the moment war was declared had
expressed his intention of joining the recruits for
Cuba as soon as he could see her so provided for
that his death would not rob her of proper sup-
port. How this had come about she did not know.
Three weeks before he had been in despair over the
faint prospect of doing what he wished; then
suddenly, and without any explanation of how
the change had come about, he had rushed in
upon her with the news that he was going to enlist
in a company made up of bronco busters and rough
riders from the West, that she need not worry
about herself or about him, for he had just put
five hundred dollars to her account in bank, and
that as for himself he possessed a charmed
life and was immune, as she well knew, and need
fear bullets no more than the fever. By this he
meant that he had had yellow fever years be-
fore in Louisiana, and that a ball which had once
been fired at him had gone clean through his body
without taking his life.
"What was the date of the evening on which
he told you he had placed money in bank for you?"
"April the twenty-ninth."
Two days after the Jeffrey-Moore wedding!
Convinced now that his departure from town


A FRESH START 261
was something more than a coincidence, I pur-
sued my inquiries and found that he had been re-
ceived, just as she had said, into the First Volunteer
Corps under Colonel Wood. This required influ-
ence. Whose was the influence? It took me some
time to find out, but after many and various at-
tempts, most of which ended in failure, I succeeded
in learning that the man who had worked and ob-
tained for him a place in this favored corps was
Francis Jeffrey.


XVIII
IN THE GRASS
I did some tall thinking that night. I remem-
bered that this man had held some conversation with
the Jeffreys at their carriage door previous to their
departure from the Moore house, and found myself
compelled to believe that only a matter of impor-
tance to themselves as well as to him would have
detained them at such a minute. Oh, that Tampa
were not so far off or that I had happened on this
clue earlier! But Tampa was at that moment a far
prospect for me and I could only reason from such
facts as I had been able to collect in Washington.
Fixing my mind now on Mrs. Jeffrey, I asked
the cause of the many caprices which had marked
her conduct on her wedding morning. Why had
she persisted in dressing alone, and what occa-
sioned the absorption which led to her ignoring all
appeals at her door at a time when a woman is sup-
posed to be more than usually gracious? But one
answer suggested itself. Her heart was not in her
marriage, and that last hour of her maidenhood


IN THE GRASS 263
had been an hour of anguish and struggle. Per-
haps she not only failed to love Francis Jeffrey,
but loved some other man. This seemed improb-
able, but things as strange as this have hap-
pened in our complex society and no reckoning can
be made with a woman's fancy. If this was so—
and what other theory would better or even so well
account for her peculiar behavior both then and
afterward? The hour usually given by brides
to dress and gladsome expectation was with her one
of farewell to past hopes and an unfortunate, if not
passionate, attachment. No wonder that she
wished to be alone. No wonder that interruption
angered her. Perhaps it had found her on her
knees. Perhaps— Here I felt myself seized by
a strong and sudden excitement. I remembered
the filings I had gathered up from the small stand
by the window, filings which had glittered and
which must have been of gold. What was the con-
clusion? In this last hour of her maiden life
she had sought to rid herself of some article of
jewelry which she found it undesirable to carry
into her new life. What article of jewelry? In
consideration of the circumstances and the hour, I
could think of but one. A ring! the symbol of
some old attachment.
The slight abrasion at the base of her third fin-
ger, which had been looked upon as the result of


264. THE FILIGREE BALL
too rough and speedy a withdrawing of the wed-
ding-ring on the evening of her death, was much
more likely to have been occasioned by the reopen-
ing of some little wound made two weeks before by
the file. If Durbin and the rest had taken into ac-
count these filings, they must have come to very
much the same conclusion; but either they had over-
looked them in their search about the place, or, hav-
ing noted them, regarded them as a clue leading
nowhere.
But for me they led the way to a very definite
inquiry. Asking to see the rings Mrs. Jeffrey had
left behind her on the night she went for the last
time to the Moore house, I looked them carefully
over, and found that none of them showed the
least mark of the file. This strengthened my the-
ory, and I proceeded to take my next step with
increased confidence. It seemed an easy one, but
proved unexpectedly difficult. My desire was to
ascertain whether she had worn previous to her
marriage any rings which had not been seen on her
finger since, and it took me one whole week to es-
tablish the fact that she had.
But that fact once learned, the way cleared be-
fore me. Allowing my fancy full rein, I pictured
to myself her anxious figure standing alone in that
ancient and ghostly room filing off this old ring


IN THE GRASS 265
from her dainty finger. Then I asked myself what
she would be likely to do with this ring after disen-
gaging it from her hand? Would she keep it?
Perhaps; but if so, why could it not be found?
None such had been discovered among her effects.
Or had she thrown it away, and if so, where? The
vision of her which I had just seen in my mind's
eye came out with a clearness at this, which
struck me as providential. I could discern as
plainly as if I had been a part of the scene the
white-clad form of the bride bending toward the
light which came in sparsely through the half-
open shutter she had loosened for this task.
This was the shutter which had never again
been fastened and whose restless blowing to and fro
had first led attention to this house and the crime
it might otherwise have concealed indefinitely.
Had some glimpse of the rank grass growing un-
derneath this window lured her eye and led her to
cast away the ring which she had no longer any
right to keep? It would be like a woman to yield
to such an impulse; and on the strength of the
possibility I decided to search this small plot for
what it might very reasonably conceal.
But I did not wish to do this openly. I was not
only afraid of attracting Durbin's attention by an
attempt which could only awaken his disdain, but


266 THE FILIGREE BALL
I hesitated to arouse the suspicion of Mr. Moore,
whose interest in his newly acquired property made
him very properly alert to any trespass upon it.
The undertaking, therefore, presented difficul-
ties. But it was my business to overcome these,
and before long I conceived a plan by which
every blade of grass in the narrow strip running
in front of this house might be gone over without
rousing anything more serious than Uncle David's
ire.
Calling together a posse of street urchins, I or-
ganized them into a band, with the promise of a
good supper all around if one of them brought me
the pieces of a broken ring which I had lost in the
grass plot of a house where I had been called upon
to stay all night. That they might win the sup-
per in the shortest possible time and before the
owner of this house, who lived opposite, could in-
terfere, I advised them to start at the fence in a
long line and, proceeding on their knees, to search,
each one, the ground before him to the width of
his own body. The fortunate one was to have the
privilege of saying what the supper should consist
of. To give a plausible excuse for this search, a
ball was to be tossed up and down the street till it
lighted in the Moore house inclosure.
It was a scheme to fire the street boy's soul, and
I was only afraid of failure from the over-enthu-


IN THE GRASS 267
siasm it aroused. But the injunctions which I gave
them to spare the shrubs and not to trample the
grass any more than was necessary were so minute
and impressive that they moved away to their task
in unexpected order and with a subdued cheerful-
ness highly promising of success.
I did not accompany them. Jinny, who has
such an innocent air on the street, took my
place and promenaded up and down the block,
just to see that Mr. Moore did not make too much
trouble. And it was well she did so, for though he
was not at home,—I had chosen the hour of his
afternoon ride,—his new man-servant was; and he
no sooner perceived this crowd of urchins making
for the opposite house than he rushed at them, and
would have scattered them far and wide in a twink-
ling if the demure dimples of my little ally had not
come into play and distracted his attention so com-
pletely as to make him forget the throng of un-
kempt hoodlums who seemed bound to invade his
master's property. She was looking for Mr.
Moore's house, she told him. Did he know Mr.
Moore, and his house which was somewhere near?
Not his new, great, big house, where the horrible
things took place of which she had read in the pa-
pers, but his little old house, which she had heard
was soon to be for rent, and which she thought
would be just the right size for herself and mother.


268 THE FILIGREE BALL
Was that it? That dear little place all smothered
in vines? How lovely! and what would the rent
be, did he think? and had it a back-yard with gar-
den-room enough for her to raise pinks and nas-
turtiums? and so on, and so on, while he stared with
delighted eyes, and tried to put in a word edge-
wise, and the boys—well, they went through that
strip of grass in just ten minutes. My brave
little Jinny had just declared with her most roguish
smile that she would run home and tell her mother
all about this sweetest of sweet little places, when
a shout rose from the other side of the street, and
that collection of fifteen or twenty boys scampered
away as if mad, shouting in joyous echo of the
boy at their head:
"It's to be chicken, heaping plates of ice cream
and sponge-cake."
By which token she knew that the ring had been
found.
*******
When they brought this ring to me I would not
have exchanged places with any man on earth. As
Jinny herself was curious enough to stroll along
about this time, I held it out where we both could
see it and draw our conclusions.
It was a plain gold circlet set with a single small
ruby. It was cut through and twisted out of shape
just as I had anticipated; and as I examined it I


IN THE GRASS 269
wondered what part it had played and was yet
destined to play in the drama of Veronica Jeffrey's
mysterious life and still more mysterious death.
That it was a factor of some importance, arguing
some early school-girl love, I could but gather
from the fact that its removal from her finger was
effected in secrecy and under circumstances of such
pressing haste. How could I learn the story of
that ring and the possible connection between it
and Mr. Jeffrey's professed jealousy of his wife
and the disappointing honeymoon which had fol-
lowed their marriage? That this feeling on his
part had antedated the ambassador's ball no one
could question; but that it had started as far
back as the wedding day was a new idea to
me and one which suggested many possibili-
ties. Could this idea be established, and, if so,
how? But one avenue of inquiry offered itself.
The waiter, who had been spirited away so
curiously immediately after the wedding, might
be able to give us some information on this interest-
ing point. He had been the medium of the mes-
sages which had passed between her and Mr. Jef-
frey just prior to the ceremony; afterward he
had been seen talking earnestly to that gentleman
and later with her. Certainly, it would add to our
understanding of the situation to know what reply
she had sent to the peremptory demand made


270 THE FILIGREE BALL
upon her at so critical a time,—an understand-
ing so desirable that the very prospect of it
was almost enough to warrant a journey to Tam-
pa. Yet, say that the results were disappointing,
how much time lost and what a sum of money! I
felt the need of advice in this crisis, yet hesitated
to ask it. My cursed pride and my no less cursed
jealousy of Durbin stood very much in my way at
this time.
A week had now passed since the inquest, and,
while Miss Tuttle still remained at liberty, it was
a circumscribed liberty which must have been very
galling to one of her temperament and habits.
She rode and she walked, but she entered no house
unattended nor was she allowed any communica-
tion with Mr. Jeffrey. Nevertheless she saw him,
or at least gave him the opportunity of seeing her.
Each day at three o'clock she rode through K
Street, and the detective who watched Mr. Jeffrey's
house said that she never passed it without turning
her face to the second-story window, where he in-
variably stood. No signs passed between them;
indeed, they scarcely nodded; but her face, as she
lifted it to meet his eye, showed so marked a seren-
ity and was so altogether beautiful that this same
detective had a desire to see if it maintained like
characteristics when she was not within reach of her
brother-in-law. Accordingly, the next day he


IN THE GRASS 271
delegated his place to another and took his stand
farther down the street. Alas! it was not the
same woman's face he saw; but a far different and
sadder one. She wore that look of courage and
brave hope only in passing Mr. Jeffrey's house.
Was it simply an expression of her secret devotion
to him or the signal of some compact which had
been entered into between them?
Whichever it was, it touched my heart, even in
his description of it. After advising with Jinny
I approached the superintendent, to whom, with-
out further reserve, I opened my heart.
The next day I found myself on the train bound
for Tampa, with full authority to follow Curly
Jim until I found him.





book m
THE HOUSE OF DOOM


~ %


XIX
IN TAMPA
When I started on this desperate search after a
witness, war had been declared, but no advance as
yet ordered on Cuba. But during my journey
south the long expected event happened, and on
my arrival in Tampa I found myself in the midst
of departure and everything in confusion.
Of course, under such conditions it was difficult
to find my man on the instant. Innumerable in-
quiries yielded no result, and in the absence of any
one who would or could give me the desired in-
formation I wandered from one end of the camp
to the other till I finally encountered a petty officer
who gave signs of being a Rough Rider. Him I
stopped, and, with some hint of my business, asked
where James Calvert could be found.
His answer was a stare and a gesture toward
the hospital tents.
Nothing could have astonished me more.
"Sick?" I cried.
"Dying," was his answer.
275


276 THE FILIGREE BALL
Dying! Curly Jim! Impossible. I had mis-
led my informant as to the exact man I wanted, or
else there were two James Calverts in Tampa.
Curly Jim, the former cowboy, was not the fellow
to succumb in camp before he had ever smelt pow-
der.
"It is James Calvert of the First Volunteer Corps
I am after," said I. "A sturdy fellow—"
"No doubt, no doubt. Many sturdy fellows are
down. He's down to stay. Typhoid, you know.
Bad case. No hope from the start. Pity, but—"
I heard no more. Dying! Curly Jim. He
who was considered to be immune! He who held
the secret—
"Let me see him," I demanded. "It is impor-
tant—a police matter—a word from him may save
a life. He is still breathing?"
"Yes, but I do not think there is any chance of
his speaking. He did not recognize his nurse five
minutes ago."
As bad as that! But I did not despair. I did
not dare to. I had staked everything on this in-
terview, and I was not going to lose its promised
results from any lack of effort on my own part.
"Let me see him," I repeated.
I was taken in. The few persons I saw clustered
about a narrow cot in one corner gave way and I
was cut to the heart to see that they did this not so


IN TAMPA 277
much out of consideration for me or my errand
there as from the consciousness that their business
at the bedside of this dying man was over. He
was on the point of breathing his last. I pressed
forward, and after one quick scrutiny of the closed
eyes and pale face I knelt at his side and whispered
a name into his ear. It was that of Veronica
Moore.
He started; they all saw it. On the threshold of
death, some emotion—we never knew what one—
drew him back for an instant, and the pale cheek
showed a suspicion of color. Though the eyes
did not open, the lips moved, and I caught these
words:
"Kept word—told no one—she was so—"
And that was all. He died the next instant.
Well! I was woefully done up by this sudden
extinction of all my hopes. They had been ex-
travagant, no doubt, but they had sustained me
through all my haps and mishaps, trials and dan-
gers, till now, here, they ended with the one inex-
orable fact—death. Was I doomed to defeat,
then? Must I go back to the major with my con-
victions unchanged but with no fresh proof, no
real evidence to support them? I certainly must.
With the death of this man, all means of reaching
the state of Mrs. Jeffrey's mind immediately pre-
ceding her marriage were gone. I could never


278 THE FILIGREE BALL
learn now what to know would make a man of me
and possibly save Cora Tuttle.
Bending under this stroke of Providence, I
passed out. A little boy was sobbing at the tent
door. I stared at him curiously, and was hurry-
ing on, when I felt myself caught by the hand.
"Take me with you," cried a choked and fright-
ened voice in my ear. "I have no friend here, now
he is gone; take me back to Washington."
Washington! I turned and looked at the lad
who, kneeling in the hot sand at the door of the
tent, was clutching me with imploring hands.
"Who are you?" I asked; "and how came you
here? Do you belong to the army?'
"I helped care for his horse," he whispered. "He
found me smuggled on board the train—for I was
bound to go to the war—and he was sorry for me
and used to give me bits of his own rations, but—
but now no one will give me anything. Take me
back; she won't care. She's dead, they say. Be-
sides, I wouldn't stay here now if she was alive and
breathing. I have had enough of war since he—
Oh, he was good to me—I never cared for any one
so much."
I looked at the boy with an odd sensation for
which I have no name.
"Whom are you talking about?" I asked. "Your
mother—your sister?"


IN TAMPA 279
"Oh, no;" the tone was simplicity itself. "Never
had no mother. I mean the lady at the big house;
the one that was married. She gave me money to
go out of Washington, and, wanting to be a sol-
dier, I followed Curly Jim. I didn't think he'd
die; he looked so strong—. What's the matter,
sir? Have I said anything I shouldn't?"
I had him by the arm. I fear that I was shak-
ing him.
"The lady!" I repeated. "She who was mar-
ried—who gave you money. Wasn't it Mrs. Jef-
frey?"
"Yes, I believe that was the name of the man she
married. I didn't know him; but I saw her—"
"Where? And why did she give you money?
I will take you home with me if you tell me the
truth about it."
He glanced back at the tent from which I had
slightly drawn him and a hungry look crept into
his eyes.
"Well, it's no secret now," he muttered. "He
used to say I must keep my mouth shut; but he
wouldn't say so now if he knew I could get home
by telling. He used to be sorry for me, he used.
What do you want to know?"
"Why Mrs. Jeffrey gave you money to leave
Washington."
The boy trembled, drew a step away, and then


280 THE FILIGREE BALL
came back, and under those hot Florida skies, in the
turmoil of departing troops, I heard these words:
"Because I heard what she said to Jim."
I felt my heart go down, then up, up, beyond
anything I had ever experienced in my whole life.
The way before me was not closed then. A wit-
ness yet remained, though Jim was dead. The
boy was oblivious of my emotion; he was staring
with great mourn fulness at the tent.
"And what was that?" said I.
His attention, which had been wandering, came
back, and it was with some surprise he said:
"It was not much. She told him to take the
gentleman into the library. But it was the library
where men died, and he just went and died there,
too, you remember, and Jim said he wasn't ever
going to speak of it, and so I promised not to,
neither, but—but—when do you think you will be
starting, sir?"
I did not answer him. I was feeling very queer,
as men feel, I suppose, who in some crisis or event
recognize an unexpected interposition of Provi-
dence.
"Are you the boy who ran away from the flor-
ist's in Washington?" I inquired when ready to
speak. "The boy who delivered Miss Moore's
bridal bouquet?"
"Yes, sir,"


IN TAMPA 281
I let go of his hand and sat down. Surely there
was a power greater than chance governing this
matter. Through what devious ways and from
what unexpected sources had I come upon this
knowledge?
"Mrs. Jeffrey, or Miss Moore, as she was then,
told Jim to seat the gentleman in the library," I
now said. "Why?"
"I do not know. He told her the gentleman's
name and then she whispered him that. I heard
her, and that was why I got money, too. But it's
all gone now. Oh, sir, when are you going back?"
I started to my feet. Was it in answer to this
appeal or because I realized that I had come at
last upon a clue calling for immediate action?
"I am going now," said I, "and you are going
with me. Run! for the train we take leaves in-
side of ten minutes. My business here is over."


XX
Words can not express the tediousness of that
return journey. The affair which occupied all my
thoughts was as yet too much enveloped in mys-
tery for me to contemplate it with anything but
an anxious and inquiring mind. While I clung
with new and persistent hope to the thread which
had been put in my hand, I was too conscious of
the maze through which we must yet pass, before
the light could be reached, to feel that lightness of
spirit which in itself might have lessened the hours,
and made bearable those days of forced inaction.
To beguile the way a little, I made a complete
analysis of the facts as they appeared to me in the
light of this latest bit of evidence. The result was
not strikingly encouraging, yet I will insert it, if
only in proof of my diligence and the extreme
interest I experienced in each and every stage of
this perplexing affair. It again took the form of
a summary and read as follows:
Facts as they now appear:
282


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 283
1. The peremptory demand for an interview
which had been delivered to Miss Moore during the
half-hour preceding her marriage had come, not
from the bridegroom as I had supposed, but from
the so-called stranger, Mr. Pfeiffer.
2. Her reply to this demand had been an order
for that gentleman to be seated in the library.
3. The messenger carrying this order had been
met and earnestly talked with by Mr. Jeffrey either
immediately before or immediately after the afore-
mentioned gentleman had been so seated.
4. Death reached Mr. Pfeiffer before the bride
did.
5. Miss Moore remained in ignorance of this
catastrophe till after her marriage, no intimation
of the same having been given her by the few per-
sons allowed to approach her before she descended
to her nuptials; yet she was seen to shrink unac-
countably when her husband's lips touched hers,
and when informed of the dreadful event before
which she beheld all her guests fleeing, went from
the house a changed woman.
6. For all this proof that Mr. Pfeiffer was well
known to her, if not to the rest of the bridal party,
no acknowledgment of this was made by any of
them then or afterward, nor any contradiction
given either by husband or wife to the accepted
theory that this seeming stranger from the West


284 THE FILIGREE BALL
had gone into this fatal room of the Moores' to
gratify his own morbid curiosity.
7. On the contrary, an extraordinary effort was
immediately made by Mr. Jeffrey to rid himself of
the only witnesses who could tell the truth concern-
ing those fatal ten minutes; but this brought no
peace to the miserable wife, who never again saw
a really happy moment.
8. Extraordinary efforts at concealment argue
extraordinary causes for fear. Fully to un-
derstand the circumstances of Mrs. Jeffrey's
death, it would be necessary first to know what had
happened in the Moore house when Mr. Jeffrey
learned from Curly Jim that the man, whose hold
upon his bride had been such that he dared to de-
mand an interview with her just as she was on the
point of descending to her nuptials, had been seat-
ed, or was about to be seated, in the room where
death had once held its court and might easily be
persuaded to hold court again.
This was the limit of my cpnclusions. I could
get no further, and awaited my arrival in Wash-
ington with the greatest impatience. But once
there, and the responsibility of this new inquiry
shifted to broader shoulders than my own, I was
greatly surprised and as deeply chagrined to ob-
serve the whole affair lag unaccountably and to
note that, in spite of my so-called important dis-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 285
coveries, the prosecution continued working up the
case against Miss Tuttle in manifest intention of
presenting it to the grand jury at its fall sitting.
Whether Durbin was to blame for this I could
not say. Certainly his look was more or less quiz-
zical when next we met, and this nettled me so that
I at once came to the determination that whatever
was in his mind, or in the minds of the men whose
counsels he undoubtedly shared, I was going to
make one more great effort on my own account;
not to solve the main mystery, which had passed
out of my hands, but to reach the hidden cause of
the equally unexplained deaths which had occurred
from time to time at the library fireplace.
For nothing could now persuade me that the two
mysteries were not indissolubly connected, or that
the elucidation of the one would not lead to the
elucidation of the other.
To be sure, it was well accepted at headquarters
that all possible attempts had been made in this
direction and with nothing but failure as a result.
The floor, the hearth, the chimney, and, above all,
the old settle, had been thoroughly searched. But
to no avail. The secret had not been reached and
had almost come to be looked upon as insolvable.
But I was not one to be affected by other men's
failures. The encouragement afforded me by my
late discoveries was such that I felt confident that


286 THE FILIGREE BALL
nothing could hinder my success save the neces-
sity of completely pulling down the house. Be-
sides, all investigation had hitherto started, if it
had not ended, in the library. I was resolved
to begin work in quite a different spot. I had not
forgotten the sensations I had experienced in the
southwest chamber.
During my absence this house had been released
from surveillance. But the major still held the
keys and I had no difficulty in obtaining them. The
next thing was to escape its owner's vigilance.
This I managed to do through the assistance of
Jinny, and when midnight came and all lights went
out in the opposite cottage I entered boldly upon
the scene.
As before, I went first of all to the library. It
was important to know at the outset that this room
was in its normal condition. But this was not my
only reason for prefacing my new efforts by a visit
to this scene of death and mysterious horror. I
had another, so seemingly puerile, that I almost
hesitate to mention it and would not if the sequel
warranted its omission.
I wished to make certain that I had exhausted
every suspected, as well as every known clue, to
the information I sought. In my long journey
home and the hours of thought it had forced
upon me, I had more than once been visited by


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 287
flitting visions of things seen in this old house
and afterward nearly forgotten. Among these
was the book which on that first night of hurried
search had given proofs of being in some one's
hand within a very short period. The attention
I had given it at a moment of such haste was
necessarily cursory, and when later a second op-
portunity was granted me of looking into it again,
I had allowed a very slight obstacle to deter
me. This was a mistake I was anxious to rectify.
Anything which had been touched with purpose
at or near the time of so mysterious a tragedy,—
and the position of this book on a shelf so high
that a chair was needed to reach it proved that it
had been sought and touched with purpose,—
held out the promise of a clue which one on so
blind a trail as myself could not afford to ignore.
But when I had taken the book down and read
again its totally uninteresting and unsuggestive
title and, by another reference to its dim and faded
leaves, found that my memory had not played me
false and that it contained nothing but stupid and
wholly irrelevant statistics, my confidence in it
as a possible aid in the work I had in hand departed
just as it had on the previous occasion. I was
about to put it back on the shelf, when I bethought
me of running my hand in behind the two books
between which it had stood. Ah! that was it! An-


288 THE FILIGREE BALL
other book lay flat against the wall at the back of
the shelf; and when, by the removal of those in
front I was enabled to draw this book out, I soon
saw why it had been relegated to such a remote
place of concealment on the shelves of the Moore
library.
It was a collection of obscure memoirs written
by an English woman, but an English woman who
had been in America during the early part of the
century, and who had been brought more or less
into contact with the mysteries connected with the
Moore house in Washington. Several passages
were marked, one particularly, by a heavy pencil-
line running the length of the margin. As the
name of Moore was freely scattered through these
passages as well as through two or three faded
newspaper clippings which I discovered pasted on
the inside cover, I lost no time in setting about
their perusal.
The following extracts are from the book itself,
taken in the order in which I found them marked:
"It was about this time that I spent a week in
the Moore house; that grand and historic structure
concerning which and its occupants so many curi-
ous rumors are afloat. I knew nothing then of its
discreditable fame; but from the first moment of


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 289
my entrance into its ample and well lighted halls I
experienced a sensation which I will not call dread,
but which certainly was far from being the impulse
of pure delight which the graciousness of my
hostess and the imposing character of the place
itself were calculated to produce. This emotion
was but transitory, vanishing, as was natural, in
the excitement of my welcome and the extraor-
dinary interest I took in Callista Moore, who in
those days was a most fascinating little body.
Small to the point of appearing diminutive, and
lacking all assertion in manner and bearing, she
was nevertheless such a lady that she easily domi-
nated all who approached her, and produced,
quite against her will I am sure, an impression
of aloofness seasoned with kindness, which made
her a most surprising and entertaining study to
the analytic observer. Her position as nominal
mistress of an establishment already accounted
one of the finest in Washington,—the real owner,
Reuben Moore, preferring to live abroad with
his French wife,—gave to her least action an im-
portance which her shy, if not appealing looks,
and a certain strained expression most difficult to
characterize, vainly attempted to contradict. I
could not understand her, and soon gave up the
attempt; but my admiration held firm, and by the


290 THE FILIGREE BALL
time the evening was half over I was her obedient
slave. I think from what I know of her now that
she would have preferred to be mine.
"I was put to sleep in a great chamber which I
afterward heard called 'The Colonel's Own.' It
was very grand and had a great bed in it almost
royal in its size and splendor. I believe that I
shrank quite unaccountably from this imposing
piece of furniture when I first looked at it; it
seemed so big and so out of proportion to my slim
little body. But admonished by the look which I
surprised on Mistress Callista's high-bred face, I
quickly recalled an expression so unsuited to my
position as guest, and, with a gush of well-simu-
lated rapture, began to expatiate upon the inter-
esting characteristics of the room, and express my-
self as delighted at the prospect of sleeping there.
"Instantly the nervous look left her, and, with
the quiet remark, 'It was my father's room,' she
set down the candles with which both her hands
were burdened, and gave me a kiss so warm and
surcharged with feeling that it sufficed to keep me
happy and comfortable for a half-hour or more
after she passed out.
"I had thought myself a very sleepy girl, but
when, after a somewhat lengthened brooding over
the dying embers in the open fireplace, I lay down
behind the curtains of the huge bed, I found my-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 291
self as far from sleep as I had ever been in my
whole life.
"And I did not recover from this condition for
the entire night. For hours I tossed from one side
of the bed to the other in my efforts to avoid the
persistent eyes of a scarcely-to-be-perceived draw-
ing facing me from the opposite wall. It had no
merit as a picture, this drawing, but seen as it was
under the rays of a gibbous moon looking in
through the half-open shutter, it exercised upon
me a spell such as I can not describe and hope
never again to experience. Finally I rose and
pulled the curtains violently together across the
foot of the bed. This shut out the picture; but I
found it worse to imagine it there with its haunt-
ing eyes peering at me through the intervening
folds of heavy damask than to confront it openly;
so I pushed the curtains back again, only to rise
a half-hour later and twitch them desperately to-
gether once more.
"I fidgeted and worried so that night that I
must have looked quite pale when my attentive
hostess met me at the head of the stairs the next
morning. For her hand shook quite perceptibly
as she grasped mine, and her voice was pitched
in no natural key as she inquired how I had slept.
I replied, as truth, if not courtesy, demanded, 'Not
as well as usual,' whereupon her eyes fell and she


292
THE FILIGREE BALL
remarked quite hurriedly, 'I am so sorry; you shall
have another room to-night,' adding, in what ap-
peared to be an unconscious whisper: 'There is
no use; all feel it; even the young and the gay;'
then aloud and with irrepressible anxiety: ‘You
didn't see anything, dear?
“ 'No! I protested in suddenly awakened dis-
may; 'only the strange eyes of that queer draw-
ing peering at me through the curtains of my bed.
Is it—is it a haunted room?
“Her look was a shocked one, her protest quite
vehement. “Oh, no! No one has ever witnessed
anything like a ghost there, but every one finds it
impossible to sleep in that bed or even in the room.
I do not know why, unless it is that my father
spent so many weary years of incessant wakeful-
ness inside its walls.
“ 'And did he die in that bed?” I asked.
“She gave a startled shiver, and drew me hur-
riedly downstairs. As we paused at the foot, she
pressed my hand and whispered:
“'Yes; at night; with the full of the moon upon
him.'
“I answered her look with one she probably un-
derstood as little as I did hers. I had heard of this
father of hers. He had been a terrible old man
and had left a terrible memory behind him.
“The next day my room was changed according


THE COLONELS OWV S93
to her promise, but in the light of the charges I
have since heard uttered against that house and the
family who inhabit it, I am glad that I spent one
night in what, if it was not a haunted chamber, had
certainly a very thrilling effect upon its occu-
pants."
Second passage; the italics showing where it
was most heavily marked.
"The house contained another room as interest-
ing as the one I have already mentioned. It went
by the name of the library and its walls were heav-
ily lined with books; but the family never sat
there, nor was I ever fortunate enough to see it
with its doors unclosed except on the occasion of
the grand reception Mistress Callista gave in my
honor. I have a fancy for big rooms and more
than once urged my hostess to tell me why this one
stood neglected. But the lady was not commu-
nicative on this topic and it was from another
member of the household I learned that its pre-
cincts had been forever clouded by the unexpected
death within them of one of her father's friends, a
noted army officer.
"Why this should have occasioned a permanent
disuse of the spot I could not understand, and as
every one who conversed on this topic invariably


294 THE FILIGREE BALL
gave the impression of saying less than the sub-
ject demanded, my curiosity soon became too much
for me and I attacked Miss Callista once again in
regard to it. She gave me a quick smile, for she
was always amiable, but shook her head and intro-
duced another topic. But one night when the wind
was howling in the chimneys and the sense of
loneliness was even greater than usual in the great
house, we drew together on the rug in front of
my bedroom fire, and, as the embers burned down
to ashes before us, Miss Callista became more com-
municative.
"Her heart was heavy, she told me; had been
heavy for years. Perhaps some ray of comfort
would reach her if she took a friend into her con-
fidence. God knew that she needed one, especially
on nights like this, when the wind woke echoes all
over the house and it was hard to tell which most
to fear, the sounds which came from no one knew
where, or the silence which settled after.
"She trembled as she said this, and instinctively
drew nearer my side so that our heads almost
touched over the flickering flame from whose heat
and light we sought courage. She seemed to feel
grateful for this contact, and the next minute,
flinging all her scruples to the wind, she began a
relation of events which more or less answered my
late unwelcome queries.


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 295
"The death in the library, about which her most
perplexing memory hung, took place when she
was a child and her father held that high govern-
mental position which has reflected so much credit
upon the family. Her father and the man who
thus perished had been intimate friends. They
had fought together in the War of 1812 and re-
ceived the same distinguishing marks of presidential
approval afterward. They were both members of
an important commission which brought them into
diplomatic relations with England. It was while
serving on this commission that the sudden break
occurred which ended all intimate relations between
them, and created a change in her father that
was equally remarked at home and abroad. What
occasioned this break no one knew. Whether his
great ambition had received some check through the
jealousy of this so-called friend—a supposition
which did not seem possible, as he rose rapidly after
this—or on account of other causes darkly hinted
at by his contemporaries, but never breaking into
open gossip, he was never the same man after-
wards. His children, who used to rush with effu-
sion to greet him, now shrank into corners at
his step, or slid behind half open doors, whence
they peered with fearful interest at his tall figure,
pacing in moody silence the halls of his ancestral
home, or sitting with frowning brows over the


296 THE FILIGREE BALL
embers dying away on the great hearthstone of his
famous library.
"Their mother, who was an invalid, did not share
these terrors. The father was ever tender of her,
and the only smile they ever saw on his face came
with his entrance into her darkened room.
"Such were Callista Moore's first memories.
Those which followed were more definite and much
more startling. President Jackson, who had a high
opinion of her father's ability, advanced him rap-
idly. Finally a position was given him which raised
him into national prominence. As this had been the
goal of his ambition for years, he was much grati-
fied by this appointment, and though his smiles
came no more frequently, his frowns lightened, and
from being positively threatening, became simply
morose.
"Why this moroseness should have sharpened
into menace after an unexpected visit from his once
dear, but long estranged companion-in-arms, his
daughter, even after long years of constant brood-
ing upon this subject, dares not decide. If she
could she might be happier.
"The general was a kindly man, sharp of face
and of a tall thin figure, but with an eye to draw
children and make them happy with a look. But
his effect on the father was different. From the
moment the two met in the great hall below, the


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 297
temper of the host betrayed how little he welcomed
this guest. He did not fail in courtesy—the Moores
are always gentlemen—but it was a hard courtesy,
which cut while it nattered. The two children,
shrinking from its edge without knowing what it
was that hurt them, slunk to covert, and from be-
hind the two pillars which mark the entrance to
the library, watched the two men as they walked
up and down the halls discussing the merits of
this and that detail of the freshly furnished man-
sion. These two innocent, but eager spies, whom
fear rather than curiosity held in hiding, even
caught some of the sentences which passed between
the so-called friends; and though these necessarily
conveyed but little meaning to their childish minds,
the words forming them were never forgotten,
as witness these phrases confided to me by Mistress
Callista twenty-five years afterward.
"'You have much that most men lack,' remarked
the general, as they paused to admire some little
specimen of Italian art which had been lately re-
ceived from Genoa. 'You have money—too much
money, Moore, by an amount I might easily name—
a home which some might call palatial, a lovely, if
not altogether healthy wife, two fine children, and
all the honor which a man in a commonwealth like
this should ask for. Drop politics.'
"'Politics are my life,' was the cold response.


THE FILIGREE BALL
'To bid me drop them is to bid me commit sui-
cide.' Then, as an afterthought to which a mo-
ment of intervening silence added emphasis, 'And
for you to drive me from them would be an act
little short of murder.'
"'Justice dealt upon a traitor is not murder,'
was the stern and unyielding reply. 'By one black
deed of treacherous barter and sale, of which none
of your countrymen is cognizant but myself, you
have forfeited the confidence of this government.
Were I, who so unhappily surprised your secret,
to allow you to continue in your present place of
trust, I myself would be a traitor to the republic
for which I have fought and for which I am ready
to die. That is why I ask you to resign before—'
"The two children did not catch the threat latent
in that last word, but they realized the force of it
from their father's look and were surprised when he
quietly said:
"'You declare yourself to be the only man on the
commission who is acquainted with the facts you
are pleased to style traitorous?'
"The general's lips curled. 'Have I not said?'
he asked.
"Something in this stern honesty seemed to affect
the father. His face turned away and it was the
other's voice which was next heard. A change had


IN TAMPA 279
"Oh, no;" the tone was simplicity itself. "Never
had no mother. I mean the lady at the big house;
the one that was married. She gave me money to
go out of Washington, and, wanting to be a sol-
dier, I followed Curly Jim. I didn't think he'd
die; he looked so strong—. What's the matter,
sir? Have I said anything I shouldn't?"
I had him by the arm. I fear that I was shak-
ing him.
"The lady!" I repeated. "She who was mar-
ried—who gave you money. Wasn't it Mrs. Jef-
frey?"
"Yes, I believe that was the name of the man she
married. I didn't know him; but I saw her—"
"Where? And why did she give you money?
I will take you home with me if you tell me the
truth about it."
He glanced back at the tent from which I had
slightly drawn him and a hungry look crept into
his eyes.
"Well, it's no secret now," he muttered. "He
used to say I must keep my mouth shut; but he
wouldn't say so now if he knew I could get home
by telling. He used to be sorry for me, he used.
What do you want to know?"
"Why Mrs. Jeffrey gave you money to leave
Washington."
The boy trembled, drew a step away, and then


280 THE FILIGREE BALL
came back, and under those hot Florida skies, in the
turmoil of departing troops, I heard these words:
"Because I heard what she said to Jim."
I felt my heart go down, then up, up, beyond
anything I had ever experienced in my whole life.
The way before me was not closed then. A wit-
ness yet remained, though Jim was dead. The
boy was oblivious of my emotion; he was staring
with great mournfulness at the tent.
"And what was that?" said I.
His attention, which had been wandering, came
back, and it was with some surprise he said:
"It was not much. She told him to take the
gentleman into the library. But it was the library
where men died, and he just went and died there,
too, you remember, and Jim said he wasn't ever
going to speak of it, and so I promised not to,
neither, but—but—when do you think you will be
starting, sir?"
I did not answer him. I was feeling very queer,
as men feel, I suppose, who in some crisis or event
recognize an unexpected interposition of Provi-
dence.
"Are you the boy who ran away from the flor-
ist's in Washington?" I inquired when ready to
speak. "The boy who delivered Miss Moore's
bridal bouquet?"
"Yes, sir,"


IN TAMPA 281
I let go of his hand and sat down. Surely there
was a power greater than chance governing this
matter. Through what devious ways and from
what unexpected sources had I come upon this
knowledge?
"Mrs. Jeffrey, or Miss Moore, as she was then,
told Jim to seat the gentleman in the library," I
now said. "Why?"
"I do not know. He told her the gentleman's
name and then she whispered him that. I heard
her, and that was why I got money, too. But it's
all gone now. Oh, sir, when are you going back?"
I started to my feet. Was it in answer to this
appeal or because I realized that I had come at
last upon a clue calling for immediate action?
"I am going now," said I, "and you are going
with me. Run! for the train we take leaves in-
side of ten minutes. My business here is over."


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 283
1. The peremptory demand for an interview
which had been delivered to Miss Moore during the
half-hour preceding her marriage had come, not
from the bridegroom as I had supposed, but from
the so-called stranger, Mr. Pfeiffer.
2. Her reply to this demand had been an order
for that gentleman to be seated in the library.
3. The messenger carrying this order had been
met and earnestly talked with by Mr. Jeffrey either
immediately before or immediately after the afore-
mentioned gentleman had been so seated.
4. Death reached Mr. Pfeiffer before the bride
did.
5. Miss Moore remained in ignorance of this
catastrophe till after her marriage, no intimation
of the same having been given her by the few per-
sons allowed to approach her before she descended
to her nuptials; yet she was seen to shrink unac-
countably when her husband's lips touched hers,
and when informed of the dreadful event before
which she beheld all her guests fleeing, went from
the house a changed woman.
6 For all this proof that Mr. Pfeiffer was well
known to her, if not to the rest of the bridal party,
no acknowledgment of this was made by any of
them then or afterward, nor any contraction
given either by husband or wife to the accepted
theory that this seeming stranger from the West


284. THE FILIGREE BALL
had gone into this fatal room of the Moores' to
gratify his own morbid curiosity.
7. On the contrary, an extraordinary effort was
immediately made by Mr. Jeffrey to rid himself of
the only witnesses who could tell the truth concern-
ing those fatal ten minutes; but this brought no
peace to the miserable wife, who never again saw
a really happy moment.
8. Extraordinary efforts at concealment argue
extraordinary causes for fear. Fully to un-
derstand the circumstances of Mrs. Jeffrey's
death, it would be necessary first to know what had
happened in the Moore house when Mr. Jeffrey
learned from Curly Jim that the man, whose hold
upon his bride had been such that he dared to de-
mand an interview with her just as she was on the
point of descending to her nuptials, had been seat-
ed, or was about to be seated, in the room where
death had once held its court and might easily be
persuaded to hold court again.
This was the limit of my cpnclusions. I could
get no further, and awaited my arrival in Wash-
ington with the greatest impatience. But once
there, and the responsibility of this new inquiry
shifted to broader shoulders than my own, I was
greatly surprised and as deeply chagrined to ob-
serve the whole affair lag unaccountably and to
note that, in spite of my so-called important dis-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 285
coveries, the prosecution continued working up the
case against Miss Tuttle in manifest intention of
presenting it to the grand jury at its fall sitting.
Whether Durbin was to blame for this I could
not say. Certainly his look was more or less quiz-
zical when next we met, and this nettled me so that
I at once came to the determination that whatever
was in his mind, or in the minds of the men whose
counsels he undoubtedly shared, I was going to
make one more great effort on my own account;
not to solve the main mystery, which had passed
out of my hands, but to reach the hidden cause of
the equally unexplained deaths which had occurred
from time to time at the library fireplace.
For nothing could now persuade me that the two
mysteries were not indissolubly connected, or that
the elucidation of the one would not lead to the
elucidation of the other.
To be sure, it was well accepted at headquarters
that all possible attempts had been made in this
direction and with nothing but failure as a result.
The floor, the hearth, the chimney, and, above all,
the old settle, had been thoroughly searched. But
to no avail. The secret had not been reached and
had almost come to be looked upon as insolvable.
But I was not one to be affected by other men's
failures. The encouragement afforded me by my
late discoveries was such that I felt confident that


286 THE FILIGREE BALL
nothing could hinder my success save the neces-
sity of completely pulling down the house. Be-
sides, all investigation had hitherto started, if it
had not ended, in the library. I was resolved
to begin work in quite a different spot. I had not
forgotten the sensations I had experienced in the
southwest chamber.
During my absence this house had been released
from surveillance. But the major still held the
keys and I had no difficulty in obtaining them. The
next thing was to escape its owner's vigilance.
This I managed to do through the assistance of
Jinny, and when midnight came and all lights went
out in the opposite cottage I entered boldly upon
the scene.
As before, I went first of all to the library. It
was important to know at the outset that this room
was in its normal condition. But this was not my
only reason for prefacing my new efforts by a visit
to this scene of death and mysterious horror. I
had another, so seemingly puerile, that I almost
hesitate to mention it and would not if the sequel
warranted its omission.
I wished to make certain that I had exhausted
every suspected, as well as every known clue, to
the information I sought. In my long journey
home and the hours of thought it had forced
upon me, I had more than once been visited by


"THE COLONEL'S OWV *87
flitting visions of things seen in this old house
and afterward nearly forgotten. Among these
was the book which on that first night of hurried
search had given proofs of being in some one's
hand within a very short period. The attention
I had given it at a moment of such haste was
necessarily cursory, and when later a second op-
portunity was granted me of looking into it again,
I had allowed a very slight obstacle to deter
me. This was a mistake I was anxious to rectifj'.
Anything which had been touched with purpose
at or near the time of so mysterious a tragedy,—
and the position of this book on a shelf so high
that a chair was needed to reach it proved that it
had been sought and touched with purpose,—
held out the promise of a clue which one on so
blind a trail as myself could not afford to ignore.
But when I had taken the book down and read
again its totally uninteresting and unsuggestive
title and, by another reference to its dim and faded
leaves, found that my memory had not played me
false and that it contained nothing but stupid and
wholly irrelevant statistics, my confidence in it
as a possible aid in the work I had in hand departed
just as it had on the previous occasion. I was
about to put it back on the shelf, when I bethought
me of running my hand in behind the two books
between which it had stood. Ah! that was it! An-


288 THE FILIGREE BALL
other book lay flat against the wall at the back of
the shelf; and when, by the removal of those in
front I was enabled to draw this book out, I soon
saw why it had been relegated to such a remote
place of concealment on the shelves of the Moore
library!
It was a collection of obscure memoirs written
by an English woman, but an English woman who
had been in America during the early part of the
century, and who had been brought more or less
into contact with the mysteries connected with the
Moore house in Washington. Several passages
were marked, one particularly, by a heavy pencil-
line running the length of the margin. As the
name of Moore was freely scattered through these
passages as well as through two or three faded
newspaper clippings which I discovered pasted on
the inside cover, I lost no time in setting about
their perusal.
The following extracts are from the book itself,
taken in the order in which I found them marked:
"It was about this time that I spent a week in
the Moore house; that grand and historic structure
concerning which and its occupants so many curi-
ous rumors are afloat. I knew nothing then of its
discreditable fame; but from the first moment of


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 289
my entrance into its ample and well lighted halls I
experienced a sensation which I will not call dread,
but which certainly was far from being the impulse
of pure delight which the graciousness of my
hostess and the imposing character of the place
itself were calculated to produce. This emotion
was but transitory, vanishing, as was natural, in
the excitement of my welcome and the extraor-
dinary interest I took in Callista Moore, who in
those days was a most fascinating little body.
Small to the point of appearing diminutive, and
lacking all assertion in manner and bearing, she
was nevertheless such a lady that she easily domi-
nated all who approached her, and produced,
quite against her will I am sure, an impression
of aloofness seasoned with kindness, which made
her a most surprising and entertaining study to
the analytic observer. Her position as nominal
mistress of an establishment already accounted
one of the finest in Washington,—the real owner,
Reuben Moore, preferring to live abroad with
his French wife,—gave to her least action an im-
portance which her shy, if not appealing looks,
and a certain strained expression most difficult to
characterize, vainly attempted to contradict. I
could not understand her, and soon gave up the
attempt; but my admiration held firm, and by the


290 THE FILIGREE BALL
time the evening was half over I was her obedient
slave. I think from what I know of her now that
she would have preferred to be mine.
"I was put to sleep in a great chamber which I
afterward heard called 'The Colonel's Own.' It
was very grand and had a great bed in it almost
royal in its size and splendor. I believe that I
shrank quite unaccountably from this imposing
piece of furniture when I first looked at it; it
seemed so big and so out of proportion to my slim
little body. But admonished by the look which I
surprised on Mistress Callista's high-bred face, I
quickly recalled an expression so unsuited to my
position as guest, and, with a gush of well-simu-
lated rapture, began to expatiate upon the inter-
esting characteristics of the room, and express my-
self as delighted at the prospect of sleeping there.
"Instantly the nervous look left her, and, with
the quiet remark, 'It was my father's room,' she
set down the candles with which both her hands
were burdened, and gave me a kiss so warm and
surcharged with feeling that it sufficed to keep me
happy and comfortable for a half-hour or more
after she passed out.
"I had thought myself a very sleepy girl, but
when, after a somewhat lengthened brooding over
the dying embers in the open fireplace, I lay down
behind the curtains of the huge bed, I found my-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 291
self as far from sleep as I had ever been in my
whole life.
"And I did not recover from this condition for
the entire night. For hours I tossed from one side
of the bed to the other in my efforts to avoid the
persistent eyes of a scarcely-to-be-perceived draw-
ing facing me from the opposite wall. It had no
merit as a picture, this drawing, but seen as it was
under the rays of a gibbous moon looking in
through the half-open shutter, it exercised upon
me a spell such as I can not describe and hope
never again to experience. Finally I rose and
pulled the curtains violently together across the
foot of the bed. This shut out the picture; but I
found it worse to imagine it there with its haunt-
ing eyes peering at me through the intervening
folds of heavy damask than to confront it openly;
so I pushed the curtains back again, only to rise
a half-hour later and twitch them desperately to-
gether once more.
"I fidgeted and worried so that night that I
must have looked quite pale when my attentive
hostess met me at the head of the stairs the next
morning. For her hand shook quite perceptibly
as she grasped mine, and her voice was pitched
in no natural key as she inquired how I had slept.
I replied, as truth, if not courtesy, demanded, 'Not
as well as usual,' whereupon her eyes fell and she


292 THE FILIGREE BALL
remarked quite hurriedly, 'I am so sorry; you shall
have another room to-night,' adding, in what ap-
peared to be an unconscious whisper: 'There is
no use; all feel it; even the young and the gay;'
then aloud and with irrepressible anxiety: 'You
didn't see anything, dear?'
"'No!' I protested in suddenly awakened dis-
may; 'only the strange eyes of that queer draw-
ing peering at me through the curtains of my bed.
Is it—is it a haunted room?'
"Her look was a shocked one, her protest quite
vehement. 'Oh, no! No one has ever witnessed
anything like a ghost there, but every one finds it
impossible to sleep in that bed or even in the room.
I do not know why, unless it is that my father
spent so many weary years of incessant wakeful-
ness inside its walls.'
"'And did he die in that bed?' I asked.
"She gave a startled shiver, and drew me hur-
riedly downstairs. As we paused at the foot, she
pressed my hand and whispered:
"'Yes; at night; with the full of the moon upon
him.'
"I answered her look with one she probably un-
derstood as little as I did hers. I had heard of this
father of hers. He had been a terrible old man
and had left a terrible memory behind him.
"The next day my room was changed according


294 THE FILIGREE BALL
gave the impression of saying less than the sub-
ject demanded, my curiosity soon became too much
for me and I attacked Miss Callista once again in
regard to it. She gave me a quick smile, for she
was always amiable, but shook her head and intro-
duced another topic. But one night when the wind
was howling in the chimneys and the sense of
loneliness was even greater than usual in the great
house, we drew together on the rug in front of
my bedroom fire, and, as the embers burned down
to ashes before us, Miss Callista became more com-
municative.
"Her heart was heavy, she told me; had been
heavy for years. Perhaps some ray of comfort
would reach her if she took a friend into her con-
fidence. God knew that she needed one, especially
on nights like this, when the wind woke echoes all
over the house and it was hard to tell which most
to fear, the sounds which came from no one knew
where, or the silence which settled after.
"She trembled as she said this, and instinctively
drew nearer my side so that our heads almost
touched over the flickering flame from whose heat
and light we sought courage. She seemed to feel
grateful for this contact, and the next minute,
flinging all her scruples to the wind, she began a
relation of events which more or less answered my
late unwelcome queries.


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 295
"The death in the library, about which her most
perplexing memory hung, took place when she
was a child and her father held that high govern-
mental position which has reflected so much credit
upon the family. Her father and the man who
thus perished had been intimate friends. They
had fought together in the War of 1812 and re-
ceived the same distinguishing marks of presidential
approval afterward. They were both members of
an important commission which brought them into
diplomatic relations with England. It was while
serving on this commission that the sudden break
occurred which ended all intimate relations between
them, and created a change in her father that
was equally remarked at home and abroad. What
occasioned this break no one knew. Whether his
great ambition had received some check through the
jealousy of this so-called friend—a supposition
which did not seem possible, as he rose rapidly after
this—or on account of other causes darkly hinted
at by his contemporaries, but never breaking into
open gossip, he was never the same man after-
wards. His children, who used to rush with effu-
sion to greet him, now shrank into corners at
his step, or slid behind half open doors, whence
they peered with fearful interest at his tall figure,
pacing in moody silence the halls of his ancestral
home, or sitting with frowning brows over the


296 THE FILIGREE BALL
embers dying away on the great hearthstone of his
famous library.
"Their mother, who was an invalid, did not share
these terrors. The father was ever tender of her,
and the only smile they ever saw on his face came
with his entrance into her darkened room.
"Such were Callista Moore's first memories.
Those which followed were more definite and much
more startling. President Jackson, who had a high
opinion of her father's ability, advanced him rap-
idly. Finally a position was given him which raised
him into national prominence. As this had been the
goal of his ambition for years, he was much grati-
fied by this appointment, and though his smiles
came no more frequently, his frowns lightened, and
from being positively threatening, became simply
morose.
"Why this moroseness should have sharpened
into menace after an unexpected visit from his once
dear, but long estranged companion-in-arms, his
daughter, even after long years of constant brood-
ing upon this subject, dares not decide. If she
could she might be happier.
"The general was a kindly man, sharp of face
and of a tall thin figure, but with an eye to draw
children and make them happy with a look. But
his effect on the father was different. From the
moment the two met in the great hall below, the


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 297
temper of the host betrayed how little he welcomed
this guest. He did not fail in courtesy—the Moores
are always gentlemen—but it was a hard courtesy,
which cut while it flattered. The two children,
shrinking from its edge without knowing what it
was that hurt them, slunk to covert, and from be-
hind the two pillars which mark the entrance to
the library, watched the two men as they walked
up and down the halls discussing the merits of
this and that detail of the freshly furnished man-
sion. These two innocent, but eager spies, whom
fear rather than curiosity held in hiding, even
caught some of the sentences which passed between
the so-called friends; and though these necessarily
conveyed but little meaning to their childish minds,
the words forming them were never forgotten,
as witness these phrases confided to me by Mistress
Callista twenty-five years afterward.
"'You have much that most men lack,' remarked
the general, as they paused to admire some little
specimen of Italian art which had been lately re-
ceived from Genoa. 'You have money—too much
money, Moore, by an amount I might easily name—
a home which some might call palatial, a lovely, if
not altogether healthy wife, two fine children, and
all the honor which a man in a commonwealth like
this should ask for. Drop politics.'
"'Politics are my life,' was the cold response.


THE FILIGREE BALL
'To bid me drop them is to bid me commit sui-
cide.' Then, as an afterthought to which a mo-
ment of intervening silence added emphasis, 'And
for you to drive me from them would be an act
little short of murder.'
"'Justice dealt upon a traitor is not murder,'
was the stern and unyielding reply. 'By one black
deed of treacherous barter and sale, of which none
of your countrymen is cognizant but myself, you
have forfeited the confidence of this government.
Were I, who so unhappily surprised your secret,
to allow you to continue in your present place of
trust, I myself would be a traitor to the republic
for which I have fought and for which I am ready
to die. That is why I ask you to resign before—'
"The two children did not catch the threat latent
in that last word, but they realized the force of it
from their father's look and were surprised when he
quietly said:
"'You declare yourself to be the only man on the
commission who is acquainted with the facts you
are pleased to style traitorous?'
"The general's lips curled. 'Have I not said?'
he asked.
"Something in this stern honesty seemed to affect
the father. His face turned away and it was the
other's voice which was next heard. A change had


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 299
taken place in it and it sounded almost mellow as
it gave form to these words:
"'Alpheus, we have been friends. You shall
have two weeks in. which to think over my de-
mand and decide. If at the end of that time you
have not returned to domestic life you may expect
another visit from me which can not fail of con-
sequences. You know my temper when roused.
Do not force me into a position which will cause
us both endless regret.'
"Perhaps the father answered; perhaps he did
not. The children heard nothing further, but they
witnessed the gloom with which he rode away to
the White House the next day. Remembering the
general's threat, they imagined in their childish
hearts that their father had gone to give up his
post and newly acquired honors. But he returned
at night without having done so, and from that day
on carried his head higher and showed himself more
and more the master, both at home and abroad.
"But he was restless, very restless, and possibly
to allay a great mental uneasiness, he began hav-
ing some changes made in the house; changes which
occupied much of his time and with which he never
seemed satisfied. Men working one day were dis-
missed the next and others called in until this work
and everything else was interrupted by the return


300 THE FILIGREE BALL
of his late unwelcome guest, who kept his appoint-
ment to a day.
"At this point in her narrative Mistress Callista's
voice fell and the flame which had thrown a partial
light on her countenance died down until I could
but faintly discern the secretly inquiring look with
which she watched me as she went on to say:
"'Reuben and I,'—Reuben was her brother,—•
'were posted in the dark corner under the stairs
when my father met the general at the door. We
had expected to hear high words, or some explosion
of bitter feeling between them, and hardly knew
whether to be glad or sorry when our father wel-
comed his guest with the same elaborate bow
we once saw him make to the president in the
grounds of the White House. Nor could we under-
stand what followed. We were summoned in to
supper. Our mother was there—a great event in
those days—and toasts were drunk and our father
proposed one to the general's health. This Reuben
thought was an open signal of peace, and turned
upon me his great round eyes in surprise; but I,
who was old enough to notice that this toast was
not responded to and that the general did not even
touch his lips to the glass he had lifted in com-
pliment to our mother, who had lifted hers, felt
that there was something terrifying rather than
reassuring in this attempt at good fellowship.


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 301
Though unable to reason over it at the time, I
have often done so since, and my father's attitude
and look as he faced this strange guest has dwelt
so persistently in my memory that scarcely a year
passes without the scene coming up in my dreams
with its accompanying emotions of fear and per-
plexity. For—perhaps you know the story—that
hour was the general's last. He died before leav-
ing the house; died in that same dark library con-
cerning which you have asked so many questions.
"'I remember the circumstances well, how well!
down to each and every detail. Our mother had
gone back to her room, and the general and my
father, who did not linger over their wine—why
should they, when the general would not drink?—
had withdrawn to the library at the suggestion
of the general, whose last words are yet lingering
in my ears.
"'The time has come for our little talk,' said
he. 'Your reception augurs—'
"'You do not look well,' my father here broke
in, in what seemed an unnaturally loud voice. 'Come
and sit down—'
"'Here the door closed.
"'We had hung about this door, curious children
that we were, in hopes of catching a glimpse of
the queer new settle which had been put into place
that day. But we scampered away at this, and


302 THE FILIGREE BALL
were playing in and out of the halls when the li-
brary door again opened and my father came out.
"'Where's Sambo?' he cried. 'Tell him to carry
a glass of wine in to the general. I do not like his
looks. I am going upstairs for some- medicine.'
This he whispered in choked tones as he set foot
on the stairs. Why I remember it I do not know,
for Reuben, who was standing where he could
look into the library when our father came out
and saw the settle and the general sitting at one
end of it, was chattering about it in my ear at the
very moment our father was giving his orders.
"'Reuben is a man now, and I have asked him
more than once since then how the general looked at
that critical instant. It is important to me, very,
very important, and to him, too, now that he has
come to know a man's passions and temptations.
But he will never tell me, never relieve my mind,
and I can only hope that there were real signs of
illness on the general's brow; for then I could feel
that all had been right and that his death was the
natural result of the great distress he felt at oppos-
ing my father in the one desire of his heart. That
glimpse which Reuben had of him before he fell
has always struck me with strange pathos. A little
child looking in upon a man, who, for all his ap-
parent health, will in another moment be in eter-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 305
bert Moore in his brother's house yesterday. He
was discovered lying with his head on the identical
spot where General Lloyd fell forty years before.
It is said that this sudden demise of a man hitherto
regarded as a model of physical strength and en-
durance was preceded by a violent altercation with
his elder brother. If this is so, the excitement inci-
dent upon such a break in their usually pleasant
relations may account for his sudden death. Ed-
ward Moore, who, unfortunately, was out of the
room when his brother succumbed—some say that
he was in his grandfather's room above—was
greatly unnerved by this unexpected end to what
was probably merely a temporary quarrel, and now
lies in a critical condition.
"The relations between him and the deceased
Albert have always been of the most amicable char-
acter until they unfortunately fell in love with the
Attached to this was another slip, apparently
from a later paper.
"The quarrel between the two brothers Moore,
just prior to the younger one's death, turns out to
have been of a more serious nature than was first
supposed. It has since leaked out that an actual
duel was fought at that time between these two


304 THE FILIGREE BALL
never left it and my father hated Its very door
until he died. Is it not natural that his daughter
should share this feeling?'
"It was, and I said so; but I would say no more,
though she cast me little appealing looks which ac-
quired an eery significance from the pressure of
her small fingers on my arm and the wailing sound
of the wind which at that moment blew down in one
gust, scattering the embers and filling the house
with banshee calls. I simply kissed her and advised
her to go back with me to England and forget this
old house and all its miserable memories. For that
was the sum of the comfort at my poor command.
When, after another restless night, I crept down
in the early morning to peer into the dim and un-
used room whose story I had at last learned, I can
not say but that I half expected to behold the mea-
ger ghost of the unfortunate general rise from
the cushions of the prodigious bench which still
kept its mysterious watch over the deserted hearth-
stone."
So much for the passages culled from the book
itself. The newspaper excerpts, to which I next
turned, bore a much later date, and read as fol-
lows:
"A strange coincidence marks the death of Al-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 305
bert Moore in his brother's house yesterday. He
was discovered lying with his head on the identical
spot where General Lloyd fell forty years before.
It is said that this sudden demise of a man hitherto
regarded as a model of physical strength and en-
durance was preceded by a violent altercation with
his elder brother. If this is so, the excitement inci-
dent upon such a break in their usually pleasant
relations may account for his sudden death. Ed-
ward Moore, who, unfortunately, was out of the
room when his brother succumbed—some say that
he was in his grandfather's room above—was
greatly unnerved by this unexpected end to what
was probably merely a temporary quarrel, and now
lies in a critical condition.
"The relations between him and the deceased
Albert have always been of the most amicable char-
acter until they unfortunately fell in love with the
Attached to this was another slip, apparently
from a later paper.
"The quarrel between the two brothers Moore,
just prior to the younger one's death, turns out to
have been of a more serious nature than was first
supposed. It has since leaked out that an actual
duel was fought at that time between these two


306 THE FILIGREE BALL
on the floor of the old library; and that in this
duel the elder one was wounded. Some even go so
far as to affirm that the lady's hand was to be the
reward of him who drew the first blood; it is no
longer denied that the room was in great disorder
when the servants first rushed in at the sound he
made in falling. Everything movable had been
pushed back against the wall and an open space
cleared, in the center of which could be seen one
drop of blood. What is certain is that Mr. Moore
is held to the house by something even more'serious
than his deep grief, and that the young lady who
was the object of this fatal dispute has left the
city."
Pasted under this was the following short an-
nouncement:
"Married on the twenty-first of January, at the
American consulate in Rome, Italy, Edward
Moore, of Washington, D. C, United States of
America, to Antoinette Sloan, daughter of Joseph
Dewitt Sloan, also of that city."
With this notice my interest in the book ceased
and I prepared to step down from the chair on
which I had remained standing during the reading
of the above passages.


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 309
from you. It is the legacy which goes with this
house and one which no inheritor as yet has refused
either to receive or to transmit. Listen. You have
often noted the gold filigree ball which I wear on
my watch-guard. This ball is the talisman of our
house, of this house. If, in the course of your life
you find yourself in an extremity from which no
issue seems possible—mind the strictness of the in-
junction—an extremity from which no issue seems
possible—(I have never been in such a case; the
gold filigree ball has never been opened by me)—
you will take this trinket from its chain, press upon
this portion of it so, and use what you will find
inside, in connection with—' Alas! it was at this
point John Judson came rushing in and those dis-
closures were made which lost me my father's regard
and gave to the informer my rightful inheritance,
together with the full secret of which I only got
a part. But that part must help me now to the
whole. I have seen the filigree ball many times;
Veronica has it now. But its contents have never
been shown me. If I knew what they were and why
the master of this secret always left the library—"
Here the memorandum ceased with a long line
straggling from the letter y as if the writer had
been surprised at his task.
The effect upon me of these remarkable words


310 THE FILIGREE BALL
was to heighten my interest and raise me into a
state of renewed hope, if not of active expectation.
Another mind than my own had been at work
along the only groove which held out any prom-
ise of success, and this mind, having at its com-
mand certain family traditions, had let me into a
most valuable secret. Another mind! Whose
mind? That was a question easily answered. But
one man could have written these words; the man
who was thrust aside in early life in favor of his
younger brother, and who now, by the sudden death
of that brother's daughter, had come again into his
inheritance. Uncle David, and he only, was the
puzzled inquirer whose self-communings I had just
read. This fact raised a new problem for me to
work upon, and I could but ask when these lines
were written—before or after Mr. Pfeiffer's death
—and whether he had ever succeeded in solving the
riddle he had suggested, or whether it was still a
baffling mystery to him. I was so moved by the
suggestion conveyed in his final and half-finished
sentence, that I soon lost sight of these lesser in-
quiries in the more important one connected with
the filigree ball. For I had seen this filigree
ball. I had even handled it. From the de-
scription given I was very certain that it had
been one of the many trinkets I had observed
lying on the dressing table when I made my first


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 311
hasty examination of the room on the evening of
Mrs. Jeffrey's death. Why had no premonition of
its importance as a connecting link between these
tragedies and their mysterious cause come to me at
the time when it was within reach of my hand? It
was too late now. It had been swept away with the
other loose objects littering the place, and my op-
portunity for pursuing this very promising investi-
gation was gone for the night.
Yet it was with a decided feeling of triumph
that I finally locked the door of this old mansion
behind me. Certainly I had taken a step forward
since my entrance there, to which I had but to add
another of equal inportance to merit the attention
of the superintendent himself.


XXI
THE HEABT OF THE PUZZLE.
The next morning I swallowed my pride and
sought out Durbin. He had superintended the re-
moval of Mrs. Jeffrey's effects from the southwest
chamber, and should know, if any one, where this
filigree ball was now to be found. Doubtless it
had been returned with the other things to Mr.
Jeffrey, and yet, who knows? Durbin is sly and
some inkling of its value as a clue may have en-
tered his mind. If so, it would be anywhere but
in Mr. Jeffrey's or Miss Tuttle's possession.
To test my rival's knowledge of and interest in
this seemingly trivial object, I stooped to what I
can but consider a pardonable subterfuge. Greet-
ing him in the offhand way least likely to de-
velop his suspicion, I told him that I had a great
idea in connection with the Jeffrey case and
that the clue to it lay in a little gold ball which
Mrs. Jeffrey sometimes wore and upon which she
set great store. So far I spoke the truth. It
had been given her by some one—not Mr. Jeffrey—
312


THE HEART OF THE PUZZLE 818
and I believed, though I did not know, that it con-
tained a miniature portrait which it might be to
our advantage to see.
I expected his lip to curl; but for a wonder
it maintained its noncommittal aspect, though I was
sure that I caught a slight, very slight, gleam of
curiosity lighting up for a moment his calm, gray
eye.
"You are on a fantastic trail," he sneered, and
that was all.
But I had not expected more. I had merely
wished to learn what place, if any, this filigree
ball held in his own suspicions, and in case he had
overlooked it, to jog his curiosity so that he would
in some way betray its whereabouts.
That, for all its seeming inconsequence, it did
hold some place in his mind was evident enough to
those who knew him; but that it was within reach or
obtainable by any ordinary means was not so plain.
Indeed, I very soon became convinced that he, for
one, had no idea where it was, or after the sugges-
tive hint I had given him he would never have wast-
ed a half-hour on me. What was I to do then? Tell
my story to the major and depend on him to push
the matter to its proper conclusion? "Not yet,"
whispered pride. "Durbin thinks you a fool. Wait
till you can show your whole hand before calling
attention to your cards." But it was hard not to


314 THE FILIGREE BALL
betray my excitement and to act the fool they con-
sidered me when the boys twitted me about this
famous golden charm and asked what great result
had followed my night in the Moore house. But
remembering that he who laughs last laughs best,
and that the cause of mirth was not yet over between
Durbin and myself, I was able to preserve an im-
passive exterior even when I came under the major's
eye. I found myself amply repaid when one of
the boys who had studiously avoided chaffing me
dropped the following words in my ear:
"I don't know what your interest is in the small
gold charm you were talking about, but you have
done some good work in this case and I don't mind
telling you what I know about it. That little gold
ball has caused the police much trouble. It is on
the list of effects found in the room where the can-
dle was seen burning; but when all these petty
belongings of Mrs. Jeffrey's were gathered up and
carried back to her husband, this special one was
not to be found amongst them. It was lost in tran-
sit, nor has it ever been seen since. And who do
you think it was who called attention to this loss
and demanded that the article be found? Not Mr.
Jeffrey, who seems to lay little or no stress
upon it, but the old man they call Uncle David.
He who, to all appearance, possessed no interest
in his niece's personal property, was on hand the


THE HEART OF THE PUZZLE 315
moment these things were carried into her husband's
house, with the express intention, it seems, of in-
quiring for this gold ball, which he declared to be a
family heirloom. As such it belonged to him as
the present holder of the property, and to him
only. Attention being thus called to it, it was
found to be missing, and as no one but the police
seemed to be to blame for its loss the matter
was hushed up and would have been regarded
as too insignificant for comment, the trinket
being intrinsically worthless, if Mr. Moore had not
continued to make such a fuss about it. This ball,
he declared, was worth as much to a Moore as all
the rest of his property, which was bosh, you know;
and the folly of these assertions and the depth of
the passions he displayed whenever the subject was
mentioned have made some of us question if he is
the innocent inheritor he has tried to make himself
out. At all events, I know for a certainty that
the district attorney holds his name in reserve, if
the grand jury fails to bring in an indictment
against Miss Tuttle."
"The district attorney is wise," I remarked, and
fell a-thinking.
Had this latent suspicion against Mr. Moore
any solid foundation? Was he the guilty man?
The memorandum I had come across in the book
which had been lately pulled down from the library


316 THE FILIGREE BALL
shelves showed that, notwithstanding his testimony
to the contrary, he had been in that house close
upon that fatal night, if not on the very night
itself. It also showed his extreme interest in the
traditions of the family. But did it show any-
thing more? Had he interrupted his writing to
finish his query in blood, and had one of his motives
for this crime been the acquisition of this filigree
ball? If so, why had he left it on the table up-
stairs? A candle had been lit in that room—could
it have been by him in his search for this object?
It would be a great relief to believe so. What was
the reason then that my mind refused so emphatic-
ally to grasp this possibility and settle upon him
as the murderer of Mrs. Jeffrey? I can not tell.
I hated the man, and I likewise deeply distrusted
him. But I could not, even after this revelation of
his duplicity, connect him in my thoughts with
absolute crime without a shock to my intuitions.
Happily, my scruples were not shared by my col-
leagues. They had listed him. Here I felt my
shoulder touched, and a newspaper was thrust into
my hand by the man who had just addressed me.
"Look down the lost and found column," said
he. "The third advertisement you will see there
came from the district attorney's office; the next
one was inserted by Mr. Moore himself."
I followed his pointing finger and read two de-


THE HEART OF THE PUZZLE 317
scriptions of the filigree ball. The disproportion
in the rewards offered was apparent. That prom-
ised by Uncle David was calculated to rouse any
man's cupidity and should have resulted in the
bauble's immediate return.
"He got ahead of the police that time," I
laughed. "When did these advertisements ap-
pear?"
"During the days you were absent from Wash-
ington."
"And how sure are you that he did not get this
jewel back?"
"Oh, we are sure. His continued anxiety and
still active interest prove this, even if our surveil-
lance had been less perfect."
"And the police have been equally unsuccessful?"
"Equally."
"After every effort?"
"Every."
"Who was the man who collected and carried out
those things from the southwest chamber?"
He smiled.
"You see him," said he.
"It was you?"
"Myself."
"And you are sure this small ball was among
them?"
"No. I only know that I have seen it some-


296 THE FILIGREE BALL
embers dying away on the great hearthstone of his
famous library.
"Their mother, who was an invalid, did not share
these terrors. The father was ever tender of her,
and the only smile they ever saw on his face came
with his entrance into her darkened room.
"Such were Callista Moore's first memories.
Those which followed were more definite and much
more startling. President Jackson, who had a high
opinion of her father's ability, advanced him rap-
idly. Finally a position was given him which raised
him into national prominence. As this had been the
goal of his ambition for years, he was much grati-
fied by this appointment, and though his smiles
came no more frequently, his frowns lightened, and
from being positively threatening, became simply
morose.
"Why this moroseness should have sharpened
into menace after an unexpected visit from his once
dear, but long estranged companion-in-arms, his
daughter, even after long years of constant brood-
ing upon this subject, dares not decide. If she
could she might be happier.
"The general was a kindly man, sharp of face
and of a tall thin figure, but with an eye to draw
children and make them happy with a look. But
his effect on the father was different. From the
moment the two met in the great hall below, the


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 299
taken place in it and it sounded almost mellow as
it gave form to these words:
"'Alpheus, we have been friends. You shall
have two weeks in. which to think over my de-
mand and decide. If at the end of that time you
have not returned to domestic life you may expect
another visit from me which can not fail of con-
sequences. You know my temper when roused.
Do not force me into a position which will cause
us both endless regret.'
"Perhaps the father answered; perhaps he did
not. The children heard nothing further, but they
witnessed the gloom with which he rode away to
the White House the next day. Remembering the
general's threat, they imagined in their childish
hearts that their father had gone to give up his
post and newly acquired honors. But he returned
at night without having done so, and from that day
on carried his head higher and showed himself more
and more the master, both at home and abroad.
"But he was restless, very restless, and possibly
to allay a great mental uneasiness, he began hav-
ing some changes made in the house; changes which
occupied much of his time and with which he never
seemed satisfied. Men working one day were dis-
missed the next and others called in until this work
and everything else was interrupted by the return


300 THE FILIGREE BALL
of his late unwelcome guest, who kept his appoint-
ment to a day.
"At this point in her narrative Mistress Callista's
voice fell and the flame which had thrown a partial
light on her countenance died down until I could
but faintly discern the secretly inquiring look with
which she watched me as she went on to say:
"'Reuben and I,'—Reuben was her brother,—■
'were posted in the dark corner under the stairs
when my father met the general at the door. We
had expected to hear high words, or some explosion
of bitter feeling between them, and hardly knew
whether to be glad or sorry when our father wel-
comed his guest with the same elaborate bow
we once saw him make to the president in the
grounds of the White House. Nor could we under-
stand what followed. We were summoned in to
supper. Our mother was there—a great event in
those days—and toasts were drunk and our father
proposed one to the general's health. This Reuben
thought was an open signal of peace, and turned
upon me his great round eyes in surprise; but I,
who was old enough to notice that this toast was
not responded to and that the general did not even
touch his lips to the glass he had lifted in com-
pliment to our mother, who had lifted hers, felt
that there was something terrifying rather than
reassuring in this attempt at good fellowship.


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 301
Though unable to reason over it at the time, I
have often done so since, and my father's attitude
and look as he faced this strange guest has dwelt
so persistently in my memory that scarcely a year
passes without the scene coming up in my dreams
with its accompanying emotions of fear and per-
plexity. For—perhaps you know the story—that
hour was the general's last. He died before leav-
ing the house; died in that same dark library con-
cerning which you have asked so many questions.
"'I remember the circumstances well, how well!
down to each and every detail. Our mother had
gone back to her room, and the general and my
father, who did not linger over their wine—why
should they, when the general would not drink?—
had withdrawn to the library at the suggestion
of the general, whose last words are yet lingering
in my ears.
"'The time has come for our little talk,' said
he. 'Your reception augurs—'
"'You do not look well,' my father here broke
in, in what seemed an unnaturally loud voice. 'Come
and sit down—'
"'Here the door closed.
"'We had hung about this door, curious children
that we were, in hopes of catching a glimpse of
the queer new settle which had been put into place
that day. But we scampered away at this, and


302 THE FILIGREE BALL
were playing in and out of the halls when the li-
brary door again opened and my father came out.
"'Where's Sambo?' he cried. 'Tell him to carry
a glass of wine in to the general. I do not like his
looks. I am going upstairs for some- medicine.'
This he whispered in choked tones as he set foot
on the stairs. Why I remember it I do not know,
for Reuben, who was standing where he could
look into the library when our father came out
and saw the settle and the general sitting at one
end of it, was chattering about it in my ear at the
very moment our father was giving his orders.
"'Reuben is a man now, and I have asked him
more than once since then how the general looked at
that critical instant. It is important to me, very,
very important, and to him, too, now that he has
come to know a man's passions and temptations.
But he will never tell me, never relieve my mind,
and I can only hope that there were real signs of
illness on the general's brow; for then I could feel
that all had been right and that his death was the
natural result of the great distress he felt at oppos-
ing my father in the one desire of his heart. That
glimpse which Reuben had of him before he fell
has always struck me with strange pathos. A little
child looking in upon a man, who, for all his ap-
parent health, will in another moment be in eter-


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 303
nity—I do not wonder he does not like to talk of it,
and yet—
"'It was Sambo who came upon the general first.
Our father had not yet descended. When he did,
it was with loud cries and piteous ejaculations.
Word had gone upstairs and surprised him in the
room with my mother. I recollect wondering in all
childish simplicity why he wrung his hands so over
the death of a man he so hated and feared. Nor
was it till years had passed and our mother had been
laid in the grave and the house had settled into a
gloom too heavy and somber for Reuben to endure,
that I recognized in my father the signs of a settled
remorse. These I endeavored to account for by the
, fact that he had been saved from what he looked
upon as political death by the sudden but oppor-
tune decease of his best friend. This caused a
shock to his feelings which had unnerved him for
life. Don't you think this the true explanation
of his invariably moody brow and the great dis-
taste he always showed for this same library?
Though he would live in no other house, he would
not enter that room nor look at the gloomy settle
from which the general had fallen to his death.
The place was virtually tabooed, and though, as the
necessity arose, it was opened from time to time
for great festivities, the shadow it had acquired


326
THE FILIGREE BALL
so, the first signs of dawn became visible in the
east. I had expended three hours in picking out
the meaning concealed in the wavy lines of the old
picture.
I was early at headquarters that morning, but
not so early as to find the superintendent alone.
A group of men were already congregated
about him in his small office, and when, on being
admitted, I saw amongst them the district attor-
ney, Durbin and another famous detective, I in-
stinctively knew what matter was under discussion.
I was allowed to remain, possibly because I
brought news in my face, possibly because the ma-
jor felt more kindly toward me than I thought.
Though Durbin, who had been speaking, had at
first sight of me shut his mouth like a trap, and
even went so far as to drum an impatient protest
with his fingers on the table before which he stood,
neither the major nor the district attorney turned
an unkindly face toward me, and my amiable
friend was obliged to accept my presence with
what grace he could.
There was with them a fourth man, who stood
apart. On him the general attention had been con-
centrated at my entrance and to him it now re-
turned. He was an unpretentious person of kindly
aspect. To any one accustomed to Washington res-
idents, he bore the unmistakable signs of being one


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 305
bert Moore in his brother's house yesterday. He
was discovered lying with his head on the identical
spot where General Lloyd fell forty years before.
It is said that this sudden demise of a man hitherto
regarded as a model of physical strength and en-
durance was preceded by a violent altercation with
his elder brother. If this is so, the excitement inci-
dent upon such a break in their usually pleasant
relations may account for his sudden death. Ed-
ward Moore, who, unfortunately, was out of the
room when his brother succumbed—some say that
he was in his grandfather's room above—was
greatly unnerved by this unexpected end to what
was probably merely a temporary quarrel, and now
lies in a critical condition.
"The relations between him and the deceased
Albert have always been of the most amicable char-
acter until they unfortunately fell in love with the
Attached to this was another slip, apparently
from a later paper.
"The quarrel between the two brothers Moore,
just prior to the younger one's death, turns out to
have been of a more serious nature than was first
supposed. It has since leaked out that an actual
duel was fought at that time between these two


328
THE FILIGREE BALL
this scene. Give the action, please. It is all very
interesting.”
The stranger glanced inquisitively in my direc-
tion, and turned to obey the superintendent.
“I was returning to my home in Georgetown, on
the evening of May the eleventh, the day of the
great tragedy. My wife was ill, and I had been
into town to see a physician and should have gone
directly home; but I was curious to see how high
the flood was running—you remember it was over
the banks that night. So I wandered out on the
bridge, and came upon the gentleman about whom
you have been questioning me. He was standing
all alone leaning on the rail thus." Here the
speaker drew up a chair, and, crossing his arms
over its back, bent his head down over them. "I
did not know him, but the way he eyed the water
leaping and boiling in a yellow flood beneath was
not the way of a curious man like myself, but
of one who was meditating some desperate deed.
He was handsome and well dressed, but he looked
a miserable wretch and was in a state of such
complete self-absorption that he did not notice
me, though I had stopped not five feet from his
side. I expected to see him throw himself over, but
instead of that, he suddenly raised his head and,
gazing straight before him, not at the heavy cur-
rent, but at some vision in his own mind, broke


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 307
As I did so I spied a slip of paper lying on the
floor at my feet. As it had not been there ten min-
utes before there could be little doubt that it had
slipped from the book whose leaves I had been turn-
ing over so rapidly. Hastening to recover it, I
found it to be a sheet of ordinary note paper part-
ly inscribed with words in a neat and distinctive
handwriting. This was a great find, for the
paper was fresh and the handwriting one which
could be readily identified. What I saw written
there was still more remarkable. It had the look
of some of the memoranda I had myself drawn up
during the most perplexing moments of this
strange case. I transcribe it just as it read:
"We have here two separate accounts of how
death comes to those who breathe their last on the
ancestral hearthstone of the Moore house library.
"Certain facts are emphasized in both:
"Each victim was alone when he fell.
"Each death was preceded by a scene of alterca-
tion or violent controversy between the victim and
the alleged master of these premises.
"In each case the master of the house reaped
some benefit, real or fancied, from the other's
death."
A curious set of paragraphs. Some one besides


808 THE FILIGREE BALL
myself was searching for the very explanation I
was at that moment intent upon. I should have
considered it the work of our detectives if the addi-
tional lines I now came upon could have been writ-
ten by any one but a Moore. But no one of any
other blood or associations could have indited the
amazing words which followed. The only excuse
I could find for them was the difficulty which some
men feel in formulating their thoughts otherwise
than with pen and paper, they were so evidently
intended for the writer's eye and understanding
only, as witness:
"Let me recall the words my father was uttering
when my brother rushed in upon us with that ac-
count of my misdeeds which changed all my pros-
pects in life. It was my twenty-first birthday and
the old man had just informed me that as the eldest
son I might expect the house in which we stood
to be mine one day and with it a secret which
has been handed down from father to son ever since
the Moores rose to eminence in the person of Col-
onel Alpheus. Then he noted that I was now of age
and immediately went on to say: 'This means
that you must be told certain facts, without the
knowledge of which you would be no true Moore.
These facts you must hereafter relate to your son
or whoever may be fortunate enough to inherit


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 309
from you. It is the legacy which goes with this
house and one which no inheritor as yet has refused
either to receive or to transmit. Listen. You have
often noted the gold filigree ball which I wear on
my watch-guard. This ball is the talisman of our
house, of this house. If, in the course of your life
you find yourself in an extremity from which no
issue seems possible—mind the strictness of the in-
junction—an extremity from which no issue seems
possible—(I have never been in such a case; the
gold filigree ball has never been opened by me)—
you will take this trinket from its chain, press upon
this portion of it so, and use what you will find
inside, in connection with—' Alas! it was at this
point John Judson came rushing in and those dis-
closures were made which lost me my father's regard
and gave to the informer my rightful inheritance,
together with the full secret of which I only got
a part. But that part must help me now to the
whole. I have seen the filigree ball many times;
Veronica has it now. But its contents have never
been shown me. If I knew what they were and why
the master of this secret always left the library—"
Here the memorandum ceased with a long line
straggling from the letter y as if the writer had
been surprised at his task.
The effect upon me of these remarkable words


810 THE FILIGREE BALL
was to heighten my interest and raise me into a
state of renewed hope, if not of active expectation.
Another mind than my own had been at work
along the only groove which held out any prom-
ise of success, and this mind, having at its com-
mand certain family traditions, had let me into a
most valuable secret. Another mind! Whose
mind? That was a question easily answered. But
one man could have written these words; the man
who was thrust aside in early life in favor of his
younger brother, and who now, by the sudden death
of that brother's; daughter, had come again into his
inheritance. Uncle David, and he only, was the
puzzled inquirer whose self-communings I had just
read. This fact raised a new problem for me to
work upon, and I could but ask when these lines
were written—before or after Mr. Pfeiffer's death
—and whether he had ever succeeded in solving the
riddle he had suggested, or whether it was still a
baffling mystery to him. I was so moved by the
suggestion conveyed in his final and half-finished
sentence, that I soon lost sight of these lesser in-
quiries in the more important one connected with
the filigree ball. For I had seen this filigree
boll. I had even handled it. From the de-
scription given I was very certain that it had
been one of the many trinkets I had observed
lying on the dressing table when I made my first


A THREAD IN HAND
333
for weeks, I have come upon the key to the many
mysterious crimes which have defiled the library
hearthstone. And where do you think it lies? Not
in the hearthstone itself and not in the floor under
the settle; not, in fact, in the library at all, but in
the picture hanging upstairs in the southwest cham-
ber.”
“The picture! that faded-out sketch, fit only for
the garret?”
“Yes. To you and to most people surveying it, it
is just what you say and nothing more. But to the
initiated few-pray Heaven they may have been
few—it is writing, conveying secret instructions.
The whole combination of curves which go to make
up this sketch is a curious arrangement of words in-
scribed with the utmost care, in the smallest of
characters. Viewed with a magnifying glass, the
uncertain outlines of a shadowy face surmounted by
a mass of piled-up hair resolve themselves into lines
of writing, the words of which are quite intelligi-
ble and full of grim and unmistakable purpose. I
have read those lines; and what is more, I have
transcribed them into plain copy. Will you read
them? They contain a most extraordinary confes-
sion; a confession that was manifestly intended as a
warning, but which unfortunately has had very dif-
ferent results. It may explain the death of the


334
THE FILIGREE BALL
man from Denver, even if it cast no light upon the
other inexplicable features of the remarkable case
we are considering.”
As I spoke I laid open on the table before me the
transcription of which I spoke. Instantly the two
men bent over it. When they looked up again, their
countenances showed not excitement only but appre-
ciation; and in the one minute of triumph which I
then enjoyed, all that had wounded or disturbed me
in the past was forgotten.
"You are a man in a thousand,” was the major's
first enthusiastic comment; at which I was conscious
of regretting, with very pardonable inconsistency,
that Durbin had not returned in time to hear these
words.
The major now proposed that we should go at
once to the old house. “A family secret like this
does not crop up every day even in a city so full of
surprises as Washington. We will hunt for the
spring under the closet drawers and see what hap-
pens, eh? And on our way there”—here he turned
to me"I should like to hear the particulars con-
cerning the little clue just mentioned. By the
way, Mr. Jeffrey's interest in this old drawing is
now explained. He knew its diabolical secret.”
This was self-evident, and my heart was heavy
for Miss Tuttle, who seemed to be so deep in her
brother-in-law's confidence.
It grew still heavier when Durbin, joining us,


À THREAD IN HAND
335
added his incredulity to the air of suspicion assumed
by the others. Through all the explanations I
now entered into, I found myself inwardly repeat-
ing with somewhat forced iteration, “I will not be-
lieve her guilty under any circumstances. She car-
ries the look of innocence, and innocent she must be
proved, whatever the result may be to Francis Jef-
frey."
To such an extent had I been influenced by the
lofty expression which I had once surprised on her
face.
Had Mr. David Moore been sitting open-eyed
behind his vines that morning, he would have been
much surprised to see so many of his natural ene-
mies intrude on his property at so early an hour.
But, happily, he had not yet risen, and we were
able to enter upon our investigations without being
watched or interrupted by him.
Our first move was to go in a body to the south-
west chamber, take down the picture, examine it
with a magnifying-glass and satisfy ourselves that
the words I had picked out of its mazy lines were
really to be found there. This done and my
veracity established, we next proceeded to the
closet where, according to the instructions em-
bodied in this picture, the secret spring was to be
found by which some unknown and devilish ma-
chinery would be released in the library below.
To my great satisfaction the active part in this


306 THE FILIGREE BALL
on the floor of the old library; and that in this
duel the elder one was wounded. Some even go so
far as to affirm that the lady's hand was to be the
reward of him who drew the first blood; it is no
longer denied that the room was in great disorder
when the servants first rushed in at the sound he
made in falling. Everything movable had been
pushed back against the wall and an open space
cleared, in the center of which could be seen one
drop of blood. What is certain is that Mr. Moore
is held to the house by something even more serious
than his deep grief, and that the young lady who
was the object of this fatal dispute has left the
city."
Pasted under this was the following short an-
nouncement:
"Married on the twenty-first of January, at the
American consulate in Rome, Italy, Edward
Moore, of Washington, D. C, United States of
America, to Antoinette Sloan, daughter of Joseph
Dewitt Sloan, also of that city."
With this notice my interest in the book ceased
and I prepared to step down from the chair on
which I had remained standing during the reading
of the above passages.


"THE COLONEL'S OWN" 307
As I did so I spied a slip of paper lying on the
floor at my feet. As it had not been there ten min-
utes before there could be little doubt that it had
slipped from the book whose leaves I had been turn-
ing over so rapidly. Hastening to recover it, I
found it to be a sheet of ordinary note paper part-
ly inscribed with words in a neat and distinctive
handwriting. This was a great find, for the
paper was fresh and the handwriting one which
could be readily identified. What I saw written
there was still more remarkable. It had the look
of some of the memoranda I had myself drawn up
during the most perplexing moments of this
strange case. I transcribe it j ust as it read:
"We have here two separate accounts of how
death comes to those who breathe their last on the
ancestral hearthstone of the Moore house library.
"Certain facts are emphasized in both:
"Each victim was alone when he fell.
"Each death was preceded by a scene of alterca-
tion or violent controversy between the victim and
the alleged master of these premises.
"In each case the master of the house reaped
some benefit, real or fancied, from the other's
death."
A curious set of paragraphs. Some one besides


A THREAD IN HAND
339
I hastened to obey and, though the back of the
settle hid the result from me, I judged from the
look and attitude of those below that the old col-
onel's calculations had been made with great exact-
ness, and that the one comfortable seat on the rude
and cumbersome bench had been so placed that this
leaden weight in descending would at the chosen
moment strike the head of him who sat there, in-
flicting death. That the weight should be made
just heavy enough to produce a fatal concussion
without damaging the skull was proof of the ex-
treme care with which this subtile apparatus had
been contrived. An open wound would have aroused
questions, but a mere bruise might readily pass as a
result of the victim's violent contact with the fur-
nishings of the hearth toward which the shocked
body would naturally topple. The fact that a
modern jury had so regarded it shows how justi-
fied he was in this expectation.
I was expending my wonder on this and on a
new discovery which, with a very decided shock to
myself I had just made in the closet, when the
command came to turn the handle again and to
keep on turning it till it would turn no farther.
I complied, but with a trembling hand, and
though I did not watch the result, the satisfaction I
heard expressed below was significant of the celerity


310 THE FILIGREE BALL
was to heighten my interest and raise me into a
state of renewed hope, if not of active expectation.
Another mind than my own had been at work
along the only groove which held out any prom-
ise of success, and this mind, having at its com-
mand certain family traditions, had let me into a
most valuable secret. Another mind! Whose
mind? That was a question easily answered. But
one man could have written these words; the man
who was thrust aside in early life in favor of his
younger brother, and who now, by the sudden death
of that brother's daughter, had come again into his
inheritance. Uncle David, and he only, was the
puzzled inquirer whose self-communings I had just
read. This fact raised a new problem for me to
work upon, and I could but ask when these lines
were written—before or after Mr. Pfeiffer's death
—and whether he had ever succeeded in solving the
riddle he had suggested, or whether it was still a
baffling mystery to him. I was so moved by the
suggestion conveyed in his final and half-finished
sentence, that I soon lost sight of these lesser in-
quiries in the more important one connected with
the filigree ball. For I had seen this filigree
ball. I had even handled it. From the de-
scription given I was very certain that it had
been one of the many trinkets I had observed
lying on the dressing table when I made my first


XXIII
WORDS IN THE NIGHT
Had I any premonition of the astounding fact
thus suddenly and, I may say, dramatically re-
vealed to us during the weeks I had devoted
to the elucidation of the causes and circum-
stances of Mrs. Jeffrey's death? I do not think so.
Nothing in her face, as I remembered it; nothing
in the feeling evinced toward her by husband or
sister, had prepared me for a disclosure of crime so
revolting as to surpass all that I had ever imagined
or could imagine in a woman of such dainty person-
ality and unmistakable culture. Nor was the su-
perintendent or the district attorney less con-
founded by the event. Durbin only tried to look
wise and strut about, but it was of no use; he de-
ceived nobody. Veronica Moore's real connection
with Mr. Pfeiffer's death,—a death which in some
inscrutable way had in so short a time led to her
own,—was an overwhelming surprise to every one
of us.
The superintendent, as was natural, recovered
first.
342


THE HEART OF THE PUZZLE 318
and I believed, though I did not know, that it con-
tained a miniature portrait which it might be to
our advantage to see.
I expected his lip to curl; but for a wonder
it maintained its noncommittal aspect, though I was
sure that I caught a slight, very slight, gleam of
curiosity lighting up for a moment his calm, gray
eye.
"You are on a fantastic trail," he sneered, and
that was all.
But I had not expected more. I had merely
wished to learn what place, if any, this filigree
ball held in his own suspicions, and in case he had
overlooked it, to jog his curiosity so that he would
in some way betray its whereabouts.
That, for all its seeming inconsequence, it did
hold some place in his mind was evident enough to
those who knew him; but that it was within reach or
obtainable by any ordinary means was not so plain.
Indeed, I very soon became convinced that he, for
one, had no idea where it was, or after the sugges-
tive hint I had given him he would never have wast-
ed a half-hour on me. What was I to do then? Tell
my story to the major and depend on him to push
the matter to its proper conclusion? "Not yet,"
whispered pride. "Durbin thinks you a fool. Wait
till you can show your whole hand before calling
attention to your cards." But it was hard not to


316 THE FILIGREE BALL
shelves showed that, notwithstanding his testimony
to the contrary, he had been in that house close
upon that fatal night, if not on the very night
itself. It also showed his extreme interest in the
traditions of the family. But did it show any-
thing more? Had he interrupted his writing to
finish his query in blood, and had one of his motives
for this crime been the acquisition of this filigree
ball? If so, why had he left it on the table up-
stairs? A candle had been lit in that room—could
it have been by him in his search for this object?
It would be a great relief to believe so. What was
the reason then that my mind refused so emphatic-
ally to grasp this possibility and settle upon him
as the murderer of Mrs. Jeffrey? I can not tell.
I hated the man, and I likewise deeply distrusted
him. But I could not, even after this revelation of
his duplicity, connect him in my thoughts with
absolute crime without a shock to my intuitions.
Happily, my scruples were not shared by my col-
leagues. They had listed him. Here I felt my
shoulder touched, and a newspaper was thrust into
my hand by the man who had just addressed me.
"Look down the lost and found column," said
he. "The third advertisement you will see there
came from the district attorney's office; the next
one was inserted by Mr. Moore himself."
I followed his pointing finger and read two de-


WORDS IN THE NIGHT
347
“I have a much more trying errand than that,” I
hastened to say, with some idea of preparing her
for an experience that could not fail to be one of
exceptional trial. “For reasons which will be ex-
plained to you by those in greater authority than
myself, you are wanted at the house where-
where” I could not help stammering under the
light of her melancholy eyes—“where I saw you
once before," I lamely concluded.
“The house in Waverley Avenue?” she objected
wildly, with the first signs of positive terror I had
ever beheld in her.
I nodded, dropping my eyes. What call had I to
penetrate the conscience of this woman?
“Are they there? all there?” she presently asked
again. “The police and—and Mr. Jeffrey ?”
"Madam,” I respectfully protested, “my duty is
limited to conducting you to the place named. A
carriage is waiting. May I beg that you will pre-
pare yourself to go at once to Waverley Avenue?”
For answer she subjected me to a long and ear-
nest look which I found it impossible to evade.
Then she hastened from the room, but with very
unsteady steps. Evidently the courage which had
upborne her so long was beginning to fail. Her
very countenance was changed. Had she recog-
nized, as I meant she should, that the secret of the
Moore house was no longer a secret confined to her
FOMA
poort
Pace
SUD
beauty
im besed
till mar


318 THE FILIGREE BALL
where, but that it wasn't among the articles I deliv-
ered to Mr. Jeffrey."
"How did you carry them?"
"In a hand-bag which I locked myself."
"Before leaving the southwest chamber?"
"Yes."
"Then it is still in that room?"
"Find it," was his laconic reply.
Here most men would have stopped, but I have a
bulldog's tenacity when once I lay hold. That
night I went back to the Moore house and, taking
every precaution against being surprised by the
sarcastic Durbin or some of his many flatterers, I
ransacked the southwest chamber on my own be-
half for what certainly I had little reason to expect
to find there.
It seemed a hopeless cause from the first, but I
acted as if no one had hunted for this object be-
fore. Moving every article, I sought first on the
open floor and then in every possible cranny for the
missing trinket. But I failed to find it and was
about to acknowledge myself defeated when my eye
fell on the long brocaded curtains which I had
drawn across the several windows to hide every
gleam of light from the street. They were almost
free from folds, but I shook them well, especially
the one nearest the table, and naturally with no
effect.


320 THE FILIGREE BALL
the clasp or fastening which held its two parts to-
gether. I have a knack at clasps and curious fast-
enings and was able at first touch to spring this
one open. And what did I find inside? Something
so different from what I expected, something so
trivial and seemingly harmless, that it was not until
I recalled the final words of Uncle David's mem-
orandum that I realized its full import and the pos-
sibilities it suggested. In itself it was nothing
but a minute magnifying glass; but when used in
connection with—what? Ah, that was just what
Uncle David failed to say, possibly to know. Yet
this was now the important point, the culminating
fact which might lead to a full understanding of
these many tragedies. Could I hope to guess what
presented itself to Mr. Moore as a difficult if not
insolvable problem? No; guessing would not an-
swer. I must trust to the inspiration of the mo-
ment which suggested with almost irresistible con-
viction:
The picture! That mane and seemingly worth-
less drawing over the fireplace in The Colonel's
Own, whose presence in so rich a room has always
been a mystery!
Why this object should have suggested itself to
me and with such instant conviction, I can not read-
ily say. Whether, from my position near the bed,
the sight of this old drawing recalled the restless


THE HEART OF THE PUZZLE 323
it touches an obstruction—pass it if it is a handle,
for that is only used to rewind the apparatus and
must be turned from you until it can be turned no
farther; but if it is a depression you encounter,
press, and press hard on the knob concealed within
it. But beware when any one you love is seated in
that corner of the settle where the cushion invites
rest, lest it be your fate to mourn and wail as it is
mine to curse the hour when I sought t.o clear my
Way by murder. For the doom of the man of blood
is upon me. The hindrance is gone from my life, but
a horror has entered it beyond the conception of
any soul that has not yielded itself to the unimag-
inable influences emanating from an accomplished
crime. I can not be content with having pressed
that spring once. A mania is upon me which, after
thirty years of useless resistance and superhuman
struggle, still draws me from bed and sleep to re-
hearse in ghastly fashion that deed of my early
manhood. I can not resist it. To tear out the
deadly mechanism, unhinge weight and drum and
rid the house of every evidence of crime would but
drive me to shriek my guilt aloud and act in open
pantomime what I now go through in fearsome si-
lence and secrecy. When the hour comes, as come
it must, that I can not rise and enter that fatal
closet, I shall still enact the deed in dreams, and
shriek aloud in my sleep and wish myself dead and


xxn
A THBEAD IN HAND
There are moments which stand out with intense
force and clearness in every man's life. Mine was
the one which followed the reading of these lines—
lines which were meant for a warning, but which
in more than one case had manifestly served to open
the way to a repetition of the very crime they
deplored. I felt myself under the same fascina-
tion. I wanted to test the mechanism; to follow
out then and there the instructions given with such
short-sighted minuteness and mark the result. But
a sense of decorum prevented. It was clearly my
duty to carry so important a discovery as this to
the major and subject myself to his commands be-
fore making the experiment suggested by the scroll
I had so carefully deciphered. Besides, it would
be difficult to carry out this experiment alone, and
with no other light than that afforded by my lan-
tern. Another man and more lights were needed.
Influenced by these considerations, I restored the
picture to its place, and left the building. As I did
825


326 THE FILIGREE BALL
so, the first signs of dawn became visible in the
east. I had expended three hours in picking out
the meaning concealed in the wavy lines of the old
picture.
I was early at headquarters that morning, but
not so early as to find the superintendent alone.
A group of men were already congregated
about him in his small office, and when, on being
admitted, I saw amongst them the district attor-
ney, Durbin and another famous detective, I in-
stinctively knew what matter was under discussion.
I Was allowed to remain, possibly because I
brought news in my face, possibly because the ma-
jor felt more kindly toward me than I thought.
Though Durbin, who had been speaking, had at
first sight of me shut his mouth like a trap, and
even went so far as to drum an impatient protest
with his fingers on the table before which he stood,
neither the major nor the district attorney turned
an unkindly face toward me, and my amiable
friend was obliged to accept my presence with
what grace he could.
There was with them a fourth man, who stood
apart. On him the general attention had been con-
centrated at my entrance and to him it now re-
turned. He was an unpretentious person of kindly
aspect. To any one accustomed to Washington res-
idents, he bore the unmistakable signs of being one


A THREAD IN HAND 327
of the many departmental employees whose pay is
inadequate to the necessities of his family. Of
his personal peculiarities I noted two. He blinked
when he talked, and stuttered painfully when ex-
cited. Notwithstanding these defects he made a
good impression, and commanded confidence. This
I soon saw was of importance, for the story he now
entered upon was one calculated to make me forget
my own errand and even to question my own con-
victions.
The first intimation I received of the curious na-
ture of his communication was through the fol-
lowing questions, put to him by the major:
"You are sure this gentleman is identical with
the one pointed out to you last night?"
"Very sure, sir. I can swear to it."
I omit all evidence of the defect in his speech
above mentioned.
"You recognize him positively?"
"Positively. I should have picked him out with
the same assurance, if I had seen him in some other
city and in a crowd of as fine-looking gentlemen as
himself. His face made a great impression on me.
You see I had ample time to study it in the few min-
utes we stood so close together."
"So you have said. Will you be kind enough to
repeat the circumstance? I should like the man
who has just come in to hear your description of


828 THE FILIGREE BALL
this scene. Give the action, please. It is all very
interesting."
The stranger glanced inquisitively in my direc-
tion, and turned to ohey the superintendent.
"I was returning to my home in Georgetown, on
the evening of May the eleventh, the day of the
great tragedy. My wife was ill, and I had been
into town to see a physician and should have gone
directly home; but I was curious to see how high
the flood was running—you remember it was over
the banks that night. So I wandered out on the
bridge, and came upon the gentleman about whom
you have been questioning me. He was standing
all alone leaning on the rail thus." Here the
speaker drew up a chair, and, crossing his arms
over its back, bent his head down over them. "I
did not know him, but the way he eyed the water
leaping and boiling in a yellow flood beneath was
not the way of a curious man like myself, but
of one who was meditating some desperate deed.
He was handsome and well dressed, but he looked
a miserable wretch and was in a state of such
complete self-absorption that he did not notice
me, though I had stopped not five feet from his
side. I expected to see him throw himself over, but
instead of that, he suddenly raised his head and,
gazing straight before him, not at the heavy cur-
rent, but at some vision in his own mind, broke


360
THE FILIGREE BALL
what I was tying to her. My testimony in that
regard was absolutely true. She held the pistol
concealed in the folds of her dress. I did not
dream–I could not—that she was contemplating
any such end to the atrocious crime to which she
had confessed. Her manner was too light, too airy
and too frivolous—a manner adopted, as I now see,
to forestall all questions and hold back all expres-
sions of feeling on my part. "Tie these hanging
ends of ribbon to my wrist,' were her words. “Tie
them tight; a knot under and a bow on top. I am
going out— There, don't say anything- What
you want to talk about will keep till to-morrow.
For one night more I am going to make merry-
to-to enjoy myself. She was laughing. I
thought her horribly callous and trembled with
such an unspeakable repulsion that I had difficulty
in making the knot. To speak at all would
have been impossible. Neither did I dare to look
in her face. I was touching the hand that,
and she kept on laughing—such a hollow laugh
covering up such an awful resolve! When she
turned to give me that last injunction about the
note, this resolve glared still in her eyes."
“And you never suspected ?”
“Not for an instant. I did not do justice either
to her misery or to her conscience. I fear that I
have never done her justice in any way. I thought
e nev


A THREAD IN HAND S31
I was left alone with the major and the district
attorney.
There was a moment's silence, during which
my own heart beat so loud that I was afraid they
would hear it. Since taking up Miss Tuttle's
cause I had never really believed in Mr. Jeffrey's
innocence in spite of the alibi he had brought for-
ward, and now I expected to hear these men utter
the same conviction. The major was the first to
speak. Addressing the district attorney, he re-
marked: "This will strengthen your case very ma-
terially. We have proof now that Mrs. Jeffrey's
death was actually determined upon. If Miss Tut-
tle had not shot her, he would. I wonder if it was
a relief to him on reaching his door to find that the
deed was done."
I could not suppress my surprise.
"Miss Tuttle!" I repeated. "Is it so unmistak-
ably evident that Mr. Jeffrey did not get to the
Moore house in time to do the shooting himself?"
The major gave me a quick look.
"I thought you considered Miss Tuttle the
guilty one."
I felt that the time had come to show my colors.
"I have changed my mind," said I. "I can give
you no good reason for this; something in the
woman herself, I suppose. She does not look nor act


THE FILIGREE BALL
like a criminal. While not desirous of raising my-
self in opposition to the judgment of those so
greatly my superior in all respects, I have had this
feeling, and I am courageous enough to avow it.
And yet, if Mr. Jeffrey could not have left the
cemetery gates and reached the Moore house in
time to fulfil all the conditions of this tragedy,
the case does look black against the woman. She
admits to having been there when the pistol was
fired, unless—"
"Unless what? You have something new to tell
us. That I have seen ever since you entered the
room. What is it?"
I cast a glance at the door. Should I be able to
finish my story before Durbin returned? I thought
it possible, and, though still upset by this new
evidence, which I could now see was not entirely in
Miss Tuttle's favor, I spoke up with what spirit I
might.
"I have just come from spending another night
in the Moore house. All the efforts heretofore made
to exhaust its secrets have been founded upon a the-
ory that has brought us nowhere. I had another in
mind, and I was anxious to test it before resting
from all further attempt to solve this riddle. And
it has not failed me. By pursuing a clue ap-
parently so trivial that I allowed it to go neglected


A THREAD IN HAND
for weeks, I have come upon the key to the many
mysterious crimes which have defiled the library
hearthstone. And where do you think it lies? Not
in the hearthstone itself and not in the floor under
the settle; not, in fact, in the library at all, but in
the picture hanging upstairs in the southwest cham-
ber."
"The picture! that faded-out sketch, fit only for
the garret?"
"Yes. To you and to most people surveying it, it
is just what you say and nothing more. But to the
initiated few—pray Heaven they may have been
few—it is writing, conveying secret instructions.
The whole combination of curves which go to make
up this sketch is a curious arrangement of words in-
scribed with the utmost care, in the smallest of
characters. Viewed with a magnifying glass, the
uncertain outlines of a shadowy face surmounted by
a mass of piled-up hair resolve themselves into lines
of writing, the words of which are quite intelligi-
ble and full of grim and unmistakable purpose. I
have read those lines; and what is more, I have
transcribed them into plain copy. Will you read
them? They contain a most extraordinary confes-
sion ; a confession that was manifestly intended as a
warning, but which unfortunately has had very dif-
ferent results. It may explain the death of the


A THREAD IN HAND
added his incredulity to the air of suspicion assumed
by the others. Through all the explanations I
now entered into, I found myself inwardly repeat-
ing with somewhat forced iteration, "I will not be-
lieve her guilty under any circumstances. She car-
ries the look of innocence, and innocent she must be
proved, whatever the result may be to Francis Jef-
frey."
To such an extent had I been influenced by the
lofty expression which I had once surprised on her
face.
Had Mr. David Moore been sitting open-eyed
behind his vines that morning, he would have been
much surprised to see so many of his natural ene-
mies intrude on his property at so early an hour.
But, happily, he had not yet risen, and we were
able to enter upon our investigations without being
watched or interrupted by him.
Our first move was to go in a body to the south-
west chamber, take down the picture, examine it
with a magnifying-glass and satisfy ourselves that
the words I had picked out of its mazy lines were
really to be found there. This done and my
veracity established, we next proceeded to the
closet where, according to the instructions em-
bodied in this picture, the secret spring was to be
found by which some unknown and devilish ma-
chinery would be released in the library below.
To my great satisfaction the active part in this


336 THE FILIGREE BALL
experiment was delegated to me. Durbin continued
to be a mere looker-on. Drawing out the two large
drawers from their place at the end of this closet, I
set them aside. Then I hunted for and found the
small loophole which we had been told afforded a
glimpse of the library hearthstone; but seeing
nothing through it, I called for a light to be placed
in the room below.
I heard Durbin go down, then the major, and
finally, the district attorney. Nothing could stay
their curiosity now, not even the possibility of dan-
ger, which as yet was a lurking and mysterious one.
But when a light shot up from below, and the irreg-
ular opening before me became a loophole through
which I could catch a very wide glimpse of the
library beneath, I found that it was not necessary
for me to warn them to keep away from the hearth,
as they were all clustered very near the door—a
precaution not altogether uncalled for at so hazard-
ous a moment.
"Are you ready?" I called down.
"Ready!" rose in simultaneous response from
Below.
"Then look out!"
Reaching for the spring cleverly concealed in the
wall at my right I vigorously pressed it.
The result was instantaneous. Silently, but with
unerring certainty, something small, round, and


338 THE FILIGREE BALL
rest, as the colonel so suggestively puts it in his
strange puzzle of a confession," added the district
attorney.
"Replace the old seat," ordered the major, "and
let us make sure of this."
Ready hands at once grasped it, and, with some
effort, I own, drew it carefully back into position.
"You see!" quoth Durbin.
We did.
"Devilish!" came from the major's lips. Then
with a glance at the ball which, pushed aside by the
seat, now hung over its edge a foot or so from the
floor, he added briskly: "The ball has fallen to the
full length of the cord. If it were drawn up a
little—"
"Wait," I eagerly interposed. "Let me see what
I can do with it."
And I dashed back upstairs and into the closet of
"The Colonel's Own."
With a single peep down to see if they were still
on the watch, I seized the handle whose position I
had made sure of when searching for the spring,
and began to turn; when instantly—so quick was
the response—the long cord stiffened and I saw
the ball rise into sight above the settle-top.
"Stop!" called out the major. "Let go and press
the spring again."


A THREAD IN HAND 339
I hastened to obey and, though the back of the
settle hid the result from me, I judged from the
look and attitude of those below that the old col-
onel's calculations had been made with great exact-
ness, and that the one comfortable seat on the rude
and cumbersome bench had been so placed that this
leaden weight in descending would at the chosen
moment strike the head of him who sat there, in-
flicting death. That the weight should be made
just heavy enough to produce a fatal concussion
without damaging the skull was proof of the ex-
treme care with which this subtile apparatus had
been contrived. An open wound would have aroused
questions, but a mere bruise might readily pass as a
result of the victim's violent contact with the fur-
nishings of the hearth toward which the shocked
body would naturally topple. The fact that a
modern jury had so regarded it shows how justi-
fied he was in this expectation.
I was expending my wonder on this and on a
new discovery which, with a very decided shock to
myself I had just made in the closet, when the
command came to turn the handle again and to
keep on turning it till it would turn no farther.
I complied, but with a trembling hand, and
though I did not watch the result, the satisfaction I
heard expressed below was significant of the celerity


340 THE FILIGREE BALL
and precision with which the weight rose, foot by
foot, to the ceiling and finally slunk snugly and
without seeming jar into its lair.
When, a few minutes later, I rejoined those be-
low, I found them all, with eyes directed toward
the cornice, searching for the hole through which I
had just been looking. It was next to impercepti-
ble, so naturally had it been made to fit in with the
shadows of the scroll work; and even after I had
discovered it and pointed it out to them, I found
difficulty in making them believe that they really
looked upon an opening. But when once convinced
of this, the district attorney's remark was signifi-
cant.
"I am glad that my name is not Moore."
The superintendent made no reply; his eye had
caught mine, and he had become very thoughtful.
"One of the two candelabra belonging to the par-
lor mantel was found lying on that closet floor," he
observed. "Somebody has entered there lately, as
lately as the day when Mr. Pfeiffer was seated
here."
"Pardon me," I impetuously cried. "Mr. Pfeif-
fer's death is quite explained." And, drawing for-
ward my hand, which up to this moment I had held
tight-shut behind my back, I slowly unclosed it be-
fore their astonished eyes.


372
THE FILIGREE BALL
“Ah," I remarked. “You own to the memo-
randum then. It was made on the spot, but with-
out the benefit of the talisman.”
“I own to nothing,” he snapped. Then, realiz-
ing that denial in this regard was fatal, he added
more genially: “What do you mean by memoran-
dum? If you mean that recapitulation of old-
time mysteries and their accompanying features
with which I once whiled away an idle hour, I own
to it, of course. Why shouldn't I? It is only a
proof of my curiosity in regard to this old mys-
tery which every member of my family must feel.
That curiosity has not been appeased. If it would
not be indiscreet on your part, may I now ask if
you have found out what that little golden ball of
mine which you sport so freely before my eyes is
to be used in connection with?”
“Read the papers," I said; “read to-morrow's
papers, Mr. Moore; or, better still, to-night's.
Perhaps they will inform you."
He was as angry as I had expected him to be, but
as this ire proved conclusively that his strongest
emotion had been curiosity rather than fear, I felt
assured of my ground, and turned to reënter the
house. Mr. Moore did not accompany me.
The others
The major was standing in the hall.
had evidently retreated to the parlor.


TANTALIZING TACTICS
375
He smiled and waved his hand with friendly assur-
ance. The state of feeling between Durbin and
myself was evidently well known to him.
My enemy entered with a jaunty air, which
changed ever so slightly when he saw me in close
conference with the superintendent.
He had the book in his pocket. Taking it out,
he handed it to the major, with this remark:
"You won't find anything there; the gent's been
fooling you.”
The major opened the book, shook it, looked
under the cover, found nothing, and crossed hastily
to the drawing-room. We as hastily followed him.
The district attorney was talking with Miss Tuttle;
Mr. Jeffrey was nervously pacing the floor. The
latter stopped as we all entered and his eyes flashed
to the book.
“Let me take it,” said he.
“It is absolutely empty,” remarked the major.
“The letter has been abstracted, probably without
your knowledge.”
“I do not think so," was Mr. Jeffrey's unex-
pected retort. “Do you suppose that I would in-
trust a secret, for the preservation of which I was
ready to risk life and honor, to the open pages of
a book? When I found myself threatened with
all sorts of visits from the police and realized that


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 347
"I have a much more trying errand than that," I
hastened to say, with some idea of preparing her
for an experience that could not fail to be one of
exceptional trial. "For reasons which will be ex-
plained to you by those in greater authority than
myself, you are wanted at the house where—
where—" I could not help stammering under the
light of her melancholy eyes—"where I saw you
once before," I lamely concluded.
"The house in Waverley Avenue?" she objected
wildly, with the first signs of positive terror I had
ever beheld in her.
I nodded, dropping my eyes. What call had I to
penetrate the conscience of this woman?
"Are they there? all there?" she presently asked
again. "The police and—and Mr. Jeffrey?"
"Madam," I respectfully protested, "my duty is
limited to conducting you to the place named. A
carriage is waiting. May I beg that you will pre-
pare yourself to go at once to Waverley Avenue?"
For answer she subjected me to a long and ear-
nest look which I found it impossible to evade.
Then she hastened from the room, but with very
unsteady steps. Evidently the courage which had
upborne her so long was beginning to fail. Her
very countenance was changed. Had she recog-
nized, as I meant she should, that the secret of the
Moore house was no longer a secret confined to her


348 THE FILIGREE BALL
own breast and to that of her unhappy brother-in-
law?
When she returned ready for her ride this change
in her spirits was less observable, and by the time
we had reached the house in Waverley Avenue she
had so far regained her old courage as to move
and speak with the calmness of despair if not of
mental serenity.
The major was awaiting us at the door and
bowed gravely before her heavily veiled figure.
"Miss Tuttle," he asked, without any preamble,
the moment she was well inside the house, "may I
inquire of you here, and before I show you what
will excuse us for subjecting you to the distress of
entering these doors, whether your sister, Mrs. Jef-
frey, had any other name or was ever known by any
other name than that of Veronica?"
"She was christened Antoinette, as well as Veron-
ica; but the person in whose memory the former
name was given her was no honor to the family and
she very soon dropped it and was only known as
Veronica. Oh, what have I done?" she cried, awed
and frightened by the silence which followed the
utterance of these simple words.
No one answered her. For the first time in her
presence, the minds of those who faced her were
with another than herself. The bride! the unhappy
bride—no maiden but a wife! nay, a wife one min-


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 351
us out. We have suffered, labored and denied in
vain."
"Yes," came in dreary echo from the man
none of us had understood till now; "so great a
crime could not be hid. God will have vengeance.
What are we that we should hope to avert it by any
act or at any cost?"
The major, with his eyes fixed piercingly on
this miserable man, replied with one pregnant sen-
tence:
"Then you forced your wife to suicide?"
"No," he began; but before another word could
follow, Miss Tuttle, resplendent in beauty and
beaming with new life, broke in with the fervid
cry:
"You wrong him and you wrong her by such a
suggestion. It was not her husband but her con-
science that forced her to this retributive act. What
Mr. Jeffrey might have done had she proved ob-
durate and blind to the enormity of her own guilt,
I do not know. But that he is innocent of so in-
fluencing her is proved by the shock he suffered at
finding she had taken her punishment into her own
hands."
"Mr. Jeffrey will please answer the question,"
insisted the major. Whereupon the latter, with
great effort, but with the first appearance of real
candor yet seen in him, said earnestly:


382
THE FILIGREE BALL
confidence, for Wallace kept store and gossiped
very much with his customers. Besides, he was
very busy just then selling out, for he was going
to the Klondike with William, and he had too much
on his mind to be bothered, or so William said. All
this I must tell you or you will never understand
the temptation which assailed me when, having re-
turned to Washington, I awoke to my own posi-
tion and the kind of men whom I could now hope
to meet. I was the wife-oh, the folly of it—but
this was known to so few, and those were so far re-
moved, and one even—my friend Sadie—being
dead—Why not ignore the miserable secret cere-
mony and cheat myself into believing myself free,
and enjoy this world of pleasure and fashion as
Cora was enjoying it and—trust. Trust what?
Why the Klondike! That swallower-up of men.
Why shouldn't it swallow one more-Oh, I know
that it sounds hateful. But I was desperate; I
had seen you.
“I had one letter from him after he reached
Alaska, but that was before I left Owosso. I never
got another. And I never wrote to him. He told
me not to do so until he could send me word how
and where to write; but when these directions came
my heart had changed and my only wish was to
forget his existence. And I did forget it-al-


“WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?” 383
out
cin
most. I rode and danced with you and went hither
and yon, lavishing money and time and heart on
the frivolities which came in my way, calling myself
Veronica and striving by these means to crush
out every remembrance of the days when I was
known as Antoinette and Antoinette only. For
the Klondike was far and its weather bitter, and
men were dying there every day, and no letters
came (I used to thank God for this), and I need not
think—not yet—whither I was tending. One thing
only made me recall my real position. That was
when your eyes turned on mine—your true eyes,
so bright with confidence and pride. I wanted to
meet them full, and when I could not, I suddenly
knew why, and suffered.
Fastico
o off
Sent
“Do you remember the night when we stood to-
gether on the balcony at the Ocean View House
and you laid your hand on my arm and wondered
why I persisted in looking at the moon instead of
into your expectant face? It was because the mu-
sic then being played within recalled another night
and the pressure of another hand on my arm-a
hand whose touch I hoped never to feel again, but
which at that moment was so much more palpable
than yours that I came near screaming aloud and
telling you in one rush of maddened emotion my
whole abominable secret.
e reach
word de
tións ce
پیر کے


354 THE FILIGREE BALL
she had secretly married while a school-girl and
who at this very critical instant had found his way
to the house—"
"You shall read her letter. It was meant for
me, for me only—but you shall see it. I can not
talk of him or of her crime. It is enough that I
have been unable to think of anything else since
first those dreadful words fell from her lips in
sleep, thirty-six hours before she died." Then
with the inconsistency of great anguish he suddenly
broke forth into the details he shrank from and
cried:
"She muttered, lying there, that she was no big-
amist. That she had killed one husband before she
married the other. Killed him in the old house and
by the method her ancestors had taught her. And
I, risen on my elbow, listened, with the sweat oozing
from my forehead, but not believing her, oh, not be-
lieving her, any more than any one of you would
believe such words uttered in a dream by the dar-
ling of your heart. But when, with a long-drawn
sigh, she murmured, 'Murderer!' and raised her
fists—tiny fists, hands which I had kissed a thou-
sand times—and shook them in the air, an awful
terror seized me, and I sought to grasp them and
hold them down, but was hindered by some name-
less inner recoil under which I could not speak,
nor gasp, nor move. Of course, it was some


356 THE FILIGREE BALL
too piteous—it showed confidence. I waited till
after breakfast. Then, while she was seated where
she could not see my face, I whispered the question:
'Do you know that you have had a horrible dream?'
She shrieked and turned. / saw her face and
knew that what she had uttered in her sleep was
true.
"I have no remembrance of what I said to her.
She tried to tell me how she had been tempted and
how she had not realized her own act, till the mo-
ment I bent down to kiss her lips as her husband.
But I did not stop to listen—I could not. I flew
immediately to Miss Tuttle with the violent demand
as to whether she knew that her sister was already
a wife when she married me, and when she cried
out 'No!' and showed great dismay, I broke forth
with the dreadful tale and cowered in unmanly an-
guish at her feet, and went mad and lost myself for
a little while. Then I went back to my wretched
wife and asked her how the awful deed had been
done. She told me, and again I did not believe
her and began to look upon it all as some wild dream
or the distempered fancies of a disordered brain.
This thought calmed me and I spoke gently to her
and even tried to take her hand. But she her-
self was raving now, and clung about my knees,
murmuring words of such anguish and contrition
that my worst fears returned and, only stopping


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 357
to take the key of the Moore house from my bu-
reau, I left the house and wandered madly—I know
not where.
"I did not go back that day. I could not face
her again till I knew how much of her confession
was fancy and how much was fact. I roamed the
streets, carrying that key from one end of the city
to the other, and at night I used it to open the
house which she had declared contained so dreadful
a secret.
"I had bought candles on my way there but, for-
getting to take them from the store, I had no light
with which to penetrate the horrible place that even
the moon refused to illumine. I realized this when
once in, but would not go back. All I have told
about using matches to light me to the southwest
chamber is true, also my coming upon the old can-
delabrum there, with a candle in one of its sockets.
This candle I lit, my sole reason for seeking this
room being my desire to examine the antique sketch
for the words which she had said could be found
there.
"I had failed to bring a magnifying-glass with
me, but my eyes are phenomenally sharp. Know-
ing where to look, I was able to pick out enough
words here and there in the lines composing the
hair, to feel quite sure that my wife had neither
deceived me nor been deceived as to certain di-


358 THE FILIGREE BALL
rections being embodied there in writing. Shaken
in my last lingering hope, but not yet quite con-
vinced that these words pointed to outrageous
crime, I flew next to the closet and drew out the
fatal drawer.
"You have been there and know what the place
is, but no one but myself can ever realize what it
was for me, still loving, still clinging to a wild in-
consequent belief in my wife, to grope in that
mouth of hell for the spring she had chattered
about in her sleep, to find it, press it, and then to
hear, down in the dark of the fearsome recess, the
sound of something deadly strike against what I
took to be the cushions of the old settle standing
at the edge of the library hearthstone.
"I think I must have fainted. For when I found
myself possessed of sufficient consciousness to with-
draw from that hole of death, the candle in the
candelabrum was shorter by an inch than when I
first thrust my head into the gap made by the
removed drawers. In putting back the drawers I
hit the candelabrum with my foot, upsetting it and
throwing out the burning candle. As the flames
began to lick the worm-eaten boarding of the floor
a momentary impulse seized me to rush away and
leave the whole place to burn. But I did not.
With a sudden frenzy, I stamped out the flame, and
then finding myself in darkness, groped my way


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 359
downstairs and out. If I entered the library I do
not remember it. Some lapses must be pardoned
a man involved as I was."
"But the fact which you dismiss so lightly is an
important one," insisted the major. "We must
know positively whether you entered this room or
not."
"I have no recollection of doing so."
"Then you can not tell us whether the little
table was standing there, with the candelabrum
upon it or—"
"I can tell you nothing about it."
The major, after a long look at this suffering
man, turned toward Miss Tuttle.
"You must have loved your sister very much,"
he sententiously remarked.
She flushed and for the first time her eyes fell
from their resting-place on Mr. Jeffrey's face.
"I loved her reputation," was her quiet answer,
"and—" The rest died in her throat.
But we all—such of us, I mean, who were pos-
sessed of the least sensibility or insight, knew how
that sentence sounded as finished in her heart—
"and I loved him who asked this sacrifice of me."
Yet was her conduct not quite clear.
"And to save that reputation you tied the pistol
to her wrist?" insinuated the major.
"No," was her vehement reply. "I never knew


360 THE FILIGREE BALL
what I was tying to her. My testimony in that
regard was absolutely true. She held the pistol
concealed in the folds of her dress. I did not
dream—I could not—that she was contemplating
any such end to the atrocious crime to which she
had confessed. Her manner was too light, too airy
and too frivolous—a manner adopted, as I now see,
to forestall all questions and hold back all expres-
sions of feeling on my part. 'Tie these hanging
ends of ribbon to my wrist,' were her words. 'Tie
them tight; a knot under and a bow on top. I am
going out— There, don't say anything— What
you want to talk about will keep till to-morrow.
For one night more I am going to make merry—
to—to enjoy myself.' She was laughing. I
thought her horribly callous and trembled with
such an unspeakable repulsion that I had difficulty
in making the knot. To speak at all would
have been impossible. Neither did I dare to look
in her face. I was touching the hand that—
and she kept on laughing—such a hollow laugh
covering up such an awful resolve! When she
turned to give me that last injunction about the
note, this resolve glared still in her eyes."
"And you never suspected?"
"Not for an instant. I did not do justice either
to her misery or to her conscience. I fear that I
have never done her justice in any way. I thought


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 361
her light, pleasure-loving. I did not know that it
was assumed to hide a terrible secret."
"Then you had no knowledge of the contract
she had entered into while a school-girl?"
"Not in the least. Another woman, and not
myself, had been her confidante; a woman who has
since died. No intimation of her first unfortu-
nate marriage had ever reached me till Mr. Jeffrey
rushed in upon me that Tuesday morning with her
dreadful confession on his lips."
The district attorney, who did not seem quite
satisfied on a certain point passed over by the ma-
jor, now took the opportunity of saying:
"You assure us that you had no idea that this
once light-hearted sister of yours meditated sui-
cide when she left you?"
"And 1/repeat it, sir."
"Then why did you immediately go to Mr. Jef-
frey's drawer, where you could have no business,
unless it was to see if she had taken his pistol with
her?"
Miss Tuttle's head fell and a soft flush broke
through the pallor of her cheek.
"Because I was thinking of him. Because I was
terrified for him. He had left the house the morn-
ing before in a half-maddened condition and had
not come back to sleep or eat since. I did not
know what a man so outraged in every sacred feel-


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 363
I was once convinced that he had gone to this dread-
ful house. If I could not get in I could at least
hammer at the door or rouse the neighbors. Some-
thing must be done. I did not think what; I
merely flew."
"Did you know that the house had two keys?"
"Not then."
"But your sister did?"
"Probably."
"And finding the only key, as you supposed,
gone, you flew to the Moore house?"
"Immediately."
"And now what else?"
"I found the door unlocked."
"That was done by Mrs. Jeffrey?"
"Yes, but I did not think of her then."
"And you went in?"
"Yes; it was all dark, but I felt my way till I
came to the gilded pillars."
"Why did you go there?"
"Because I felt—I knew—if he were anywhere
in that house he would be there!''
"And why did you stop?"
Her voice rose above its usual quiet pitch in
shrill protest:
"You know! you know! I heard a pistol-shot
from within, then a fall. I don't remember any-
thing else. They say I went wandering about


WORDS IN THE NIGHT 365
ter which you say will give us full insight into your
wife's crime. Do you remember what occurred on
the bridge at Georgetown just before you came
into town that night?"
He shook his head.
"Did you meet any one there?"
"I do not know."
"Can you remember your state of mind?"
"I was facing the future."
"And what did you see in the future?"
"Death. Death for her and death for me! A
crime was on her soul and she must die, and if she,
then myself. I knew no other course. I could
not summon the police, point out my bride of a
fortnight and, with the declaration that she had
been betrayed into killing a man, coldly deliver
her up to justice. Neither could I live at her side
knowing the guilty secret which parted us; or live
anywhere in the world under this same conscious-
ness. Therefore, I meant to kill myself before
another sun rose. But she was more deeply strick-
en with a sense of her own guilt than I realized.
When I returned home for the pistol which was to
end our common misery I found that she had taken
her punishment into her own hands. This strange-
ly affected me, but when I found that, in doing
this, she had remembered that I should have to
face the world after she was gone, and so left a


866 THE FILIGREE BALL
few lines for me to show in explanation of her
act, my revolt against her received a check which
the reading of her letter only increased. But
the lines she thus wrote and left were not true
lines. All her heart was mine, and if it was a
wicked heart she has atoned—"
He paused, quite overcome. Others amongst us
were overcome, too, but only for a moment. The
following remark from the district attorney soon
recalled us to the practical aspects of the case.
"You have accounted for many facts not hither-
to understood. But there is still a very important
one which neither yourself nor Miss Tuttle has
yet made plain. There was a candle on the scene
of crime; it was out when this officer arrived here.
There was also one found burning in the upstairs
room, aside from the one you professedly used in
your tour of inspection there. Whence came those
candles? And did your wife blow out the one in
the library herself, previous to the shooting, or
was it blown out afterward and by other lips?"
"These are questions which, as I have already
said, I have no means of answering," repeated Mr.
Jeffrey. "The courage which brought her here
may have led her to supply herself with light; and,
hard as it is to conceive, she may even have found
nerve to blow out the light before she lifted the
pistol to her breast."


XXIV
TANTALIZING TACTICS
I made my way to the front door, but returned
almost immediately. Drawing the major aside, I
whispered a request, which led to a certain small
article being passed over to me, after which I
sauntered out on the stoop just in time to encounter
the spruce but irate figure of Mr. Moore, who had
crossed from the opposite side.
"Ah!" said I. "Good morning!" and made him
my most deferential bow.
He glared and Rudge glared from his place on
the farther curb. Evidently the police were not
in favor with the occupants of the cottage that
morning.
"When is this to cease?" he curtly demanded.
"When are these early-morning trespasses upon
an honest citizen's property coming to an end?
I wake with a light heart, expecting that my house,
which is certainly as much mine as is any man's in
Washington, would be handed over this very day
for my habitation, when what do I see—one po-


TANTALIZING TACTICS 369
lice officer leaving the front door and another sun-
ning himself in the vestibule. How many more
of you are within I do not presume to ask. Some
half-dozen, no doubt, and not one of you smart
enough to wind up this matter and have done with
it."
"Ah! I don't know about that," I drawled, and
looked very wise.
His curiosity was aroused.
"Anything new?" he snapped.
"Possibly," I returned, in a way to exasperate
a saint.
He stepped on to the porch beside me. I was too
abstracted to notice; I was engaged in eying
Rudge.
"Do you know," said I, after an instant of what
I meant should be one of uncomfortable suspense on
his part, "that I have a greater respect than ever
for that animal of yours since learning the very
good reason he has for refusing to cross the
street?"
"Ha! what's that?" he asked, with a quick look
behind him at the watchful brute straining toward
him with nose over the gutter.
"He sees farther than we can. His eyes pene-
trate walls and partitions," I remarked. Then,
carelessly and with the calm drawing forth of a
folded bit of paper which I held out toward him,


870 THE FILIGREE BALL
I added: "By the way, here is something of
yours."
His hand rose instinctively to take it; then
dropped.
"I don't know what you mean," he remarked.
"You have nothing of mine."
"No? Then John Judson Moore had another
brother." And I thrust the paper back into my
pocket.
He followed it with his eye. It was the memo-
randum I had found in the old book of memoirs
plucked from the library shelf within, and he rec-
ognized it for his and saw that I did also. But
he failed to show the white feather.
"You are good at ransacking," he observed;
"pity that it can not be done to more purpose."
I smiled and made a fresh start. With my
hand thrust again into my pocket, I remarked,
without even so much as a glance at him:
"I fear that you do some injustice to the police.
We are not such bad fellows; neither do we waste
as much time as you seem to think." And draw-
ing out my hand, with the little filigree ball in it,
I whirled the latter innocently round and round on
my finger. As it flashed under his eye, I cast him
a penetrating look.
He tried to carry the moment off successfully;
I will give him so much credit. But it was asking


TANTALIZING TACTICS 371
too much of his curiosity, and there was no mis-
taking the eager glitter which lighted his glance
as he saw within his reach this article which a mo-
ment before he had probably regarded as lost for-
ever.
"For instance," I went on, watching him furtive-
ly, though quite sure from his very first look that
he knew no more now of the secret of this little ball
than he knew when he jotted down the memorandum
I had just pocketed before his eyes, "a little thing
'—such a little thing as this," I repeated, giving
the bauble another twist—"may lead to discoveries
such as no common search would yield in years.
I do not say that it has; but such a thing is pos-
sible, you know: who better?"
My nonchalance was too much for him. He sur-
veyed me with covert dislike, and dryly observed:
"Your opportunities have exceeded mine, even
with my own effects. That petty trinket which
you have presumed to flaunt in my face—and of
whose value I am the worst judge in the world
since I have never had it in my hand—descended to
me with the rest of Mrs. Jeffrey's property. Your
conduct, therefore, strikes me in the light of an
impertinence, especially as no one could be sup-
posed to have more interest than myself in what
has been for many years recognized as a family
talisman."


TANTALIZING TACTICS 373
"The man opposite knows what he knows," said
I; "but this does not include the facts concerning
the picture in the southwest chamber or the devil-
ish mechanism."
"You are sure?"
"As positive as one of my inexperience can be.
But, Major, I am equally positive that he knows
more than he should of Mrs. Jeffrey's death. I
am even ready to state that in my belief he was
in the house when it occurred."
"Has he acknowledged this?"
"Not at all."
"Then what are your reasons for this belief?"
"They are many."
"Will you state them?"
"Gladly, if you will pardon the presumption.
Some of my conclusions can not be new to you.
The truth is that I have possibly seen more of this
old man than my duty warranted, and I feel quite
ready to declare that he knows more of what has
taken place in this house than he is ready to avow.
I am sure that he has often visited it in secret and
knows about a certain broken window as well as we
do. I am also sure that he was here on the night
of Mrs. Jeffrey's suicide. He was too little sur-
prised when I informed him of what had hap-
pened not to have had some secret inkling of it be-
forehand, even if we had not the testimony of the


376 THE FILIGREE BALL
at any moment my effects might be ransacked, I
sought a hiding place for this letter, which no man
without superhuman insight could discover. Look!"
And, pulling off the outside wrapper, he in-
serted the point of his penknife under the edge of
the paper lining the inside cover and ripped it off
with a jerk.
"I pasted this here myself," he cried, and showed
us where between this paper and the boards, in a
place thinned out to hold it, there lay a number of
folded sheets, which, with a deep sigh, he handed
over to the major's inspection. As he did so he
remarked:
"I had rather have died any natural death than
have had my miserable wife's secret known. But
since the crime has come to light, this story of her
sin and her repentance may serve in some slight
degree to mitigate public opinion. She was sorely
tempted and she succumbed; the crime of her an-
cestors was in her blood."
He again walked off. The major unfolded the
sheets.


XXV
"who will tell the man inside theee?"
Later I saw this letter. It was like no other
that has ever come under my eye. Written at in-
tervals, as her hand had power or her misery found
words, it bore on its face all the evidences of that
restless, suffering spirit which for thirty-six hours
drove her in frenzy about her room, and caused
Loretta to say, in her effort to describe her mis-
tress' face as it appeared to her at the end of this
awful time: "It was as if a blight had passed
over it. Once gay and animated beyond the power
of any one to describe, it had become a ghost's
face, with the glare of some awful resolve upon it."
I give this letter just as it was written—dis-
jointed paragraphs, broken sentences, unfinished
words and all. The breaks show where she laid
down her pen, possibly for that wild pacing of the
floor which left such unmistakable signs behind it.
It opens abruptly:
"I killed him. I am all that I said I was, and
you can never again give me a thought save in the
377


378 THE FILIGREE BALL
way of cursing and to bewail the day I came into
your life. But you can not hate me more than I
hate myself, my wicked self, who, seeing an ob-
stacle in the way to happiness, stamped it out of
existence, and so forfeited all right to happiness
forever.
"It was so easy! Had it been a hard thing to
do; had it been necessary to lay hand on knife or
lift a pistol, I might have realized the act and
paused. But just a little spring which a child's
hand could manage—Who, feeling for it, could
help pressing it, if only to see—
"I was always a reckless girl, mad for pleasure
and without any thought of consequences. When
school bored me, I took all my books out of my
desk, called upon my mates to do the same, and,
stacking them up into a sort of rostrum in a field
where we played, first delivered an oration from
them in which reverence for my teachers had small
part, then tore them into pieces and burned them
in full sight of my admiring school-fellows. I
was dismissed, but not with disgrace. Teachers
and scholars bewailed my departure, not because
they liked me, or because of any good they had
found in me, but because my money had thrown
luster on them and on the whole establishment.


"WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?" 379
This was when I was twelve, and it was on account
of this reckless escapade that I was sent west and
kept so long from home and all my flatterers.
My guardian meant well by this, but in saving
me from one pitfall he plunged me into another.
I grew up without Cora and also without any
idea of the requirements of my position or what
I might anticipate from the world when the time
came for me to enter it. I knew that I had
money; so did those about me; but I had lit-
tle or no idea of the amount, nor what that money
would do for me when I returned to Washing-
ton. So, in an evil day, and when I was just
eighteen, I fell in love, or thought I did, with a
man—(Oh, Francis, imagine it, now that I have
seen you!)—of sufficient attraction to satisfy one
whose prospects were limited to a contracted ex-
istence in some small town, but no more fitted to
content me after seeing Washington life than if he
had been a common farm hand or the most or-
dinary of clerks in a country store. But I was
young, ignorant and self-willed, and thought be-
cause my cheek burned under his look that he was
the man of men, and suited to be my husband.
That is, if I thought at all, which is not likely; for
I was in a feverish whirl, and just followed the im-
pulse of the moment, which was to be with him
whenever I could without attracting the teacher's


"WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?" 381
in his way—and who thought, (at least many of
them did,) that he cared for them when he cared
only for me.
"I have hated black eyes for a year. He had
black eyes.
"I forgot Cora, or, rather, I did not let any
remembrance of her hinder me. She was a very
shadowy person to me in those days. I had not
seen her since we were both children, and as for her
letters—they were almost a bore to me; she lived
such a different life from mine and wrote of so
many things I had no interest in. On my knees I
ask her pardon now. I never understood her. I
never understood myself. I was light as thistle-
down and blown by every breeze. There came a
gust one day which blew me into the mouth of hell.
I am hovering there yet and am sinking, Francis,
sinking—Save me! I love you—I—I—
"It was all planned by him—I have no head for
such things. Sadie helped him—Sadie was my
friend—but Sadie had not much to say about it,
for he seemed to know just how to arrange it all
so that no one at the seminary should know or even
suspect what had occurred till we got ready to tell
them. He did not even take his brother into his


384 THE FILIGREE BALL
"I did not accept your attentions nor agree to
marry you, without a struggle. You know that.
You can tell, as no one else can, how I held back
and asked for time and still for time, thus grieving
you and tearing my own breast till a day came—
you remember the day when you found me laugh-
ing like a mad woman in a circle of astonished
friends? You drew me aside and said words which
I hardly waited for you to finish, for at last I was
free to love you, free to love and free to say so.
The morning paper had brought news. A tele-
graphic despatch from Seattle told how a man had
struggled into Nome, frozen, bleeding and without
accoutrements or companion. It was with diffi-
culty he had kept his feet and turned in at the first
tent he came to. Indeed, he had only time to
speak his name before he fell dead. This name
was what made this despatch important to me. It
was William Pfeiffer. For me there was but one
William Pfeiffer in the Klondike—my husband—
and he was dead! That was why you found me
laughing. But not in mirth. I am not so bad as
that; but because I could breathe again without
feeling a clutch about my throat. I did not know
till then how nearly I had been stifled.
"We were not long in marrying after that. I
was terrified at delay, not because I feared any


"WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?" 387
bit and to feel sure that if Wallace had been spent
enough to fall dead on reaching the camp, Wil-
liam could never have survived on the open road.
For Wallace was the stronger of the two and
the most hardy every way. Free I certainly was.
Some later paper would assure me of this. I would
hunt them up and see—but I never did. I do not
think I dared. I was afraid I should see some ac-
count of his rescue. I was afraid of being made
certain of what was now but a possibility, and so
I did nothing. But for three nights I did not
sleep.
"The caprice which had led me to choose the old
Moore house to be married in led me to plan dress-
ing there on my wedding morning. It was early
when we started, Cora and I, for Waverley Avenue,
but not too early for the approaches to that dread-
ful house to be crowded with people, eager to see
the daring bride. Why I should have shrunk so
from that crowd I can not say. I trembled at
sight of their faces and at the sound of their voices,
and if by chance a head was thrust forward farther
than the rest I cowered back instinctively and
nearly screamed. Did I dread to recognize a too
familiar face? The paper I had seen bore a date
six months back. A man could arrive here from
Alaska in that time. Or was my conscience aroused


392 THE FILIGREE BALL
and then my maid, came to assist me. But I would
not let them in. I was set upon testing the secret
of the filigree ball and so preparing myself for
what my conscience told me lay between me and
the ceremony arranged for high noon.
"I did not guess that the studying out of that
picture would take so long. The contents of the
ball turned out to be a small magnifying-glass, and
the picture a maze of written words. I did not de-
cipher it all; I did not decipher the half. I did
not need to. A spirit of divination was given me
in that awful hour which enabled me to grasp its
full meaning from the few sentences I did pick out.
And that meaning! It was horrible, inconceivable.
Murder was taught; but murder from a distance,
and by an act too simple to awake revulsion. Were
the wraiths of my two ancestors who had played
with the spring hidden in the depths of this old
closet, drawn up in mockery beside me during the
hour when I stood spellbound in the middle of
the floor, thinking of what I had just read, and
listening—listening for something less loud than
the sound of carriages now beginning to roll up
in front or the stray notes of the band tuning
up below?—less loud, but meaning what? A
step into the empty closet yawning so near—an
effort with a drawer—a—a—. Do not ask me


"WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?" 393
to recall it. I did not shudder when the mo-
ment came and I stood there. Then I was cold
as marble. But I shudder now in thinking of
it till soul and body seem separating, and the hor-
ror which envelopes me gives me such a foretaste of
hell that I wonder I can contemplate the deed
which, if it releases me from this earthly anguish,
will only plunge me into a possibly worse here-
after. Yet I shall surely take my life before you
see me again, and in that old house. If it is
despair I feel, then despair will take me there. If
it is repentance, then repentance will suffice to drive
me to the one expiation possible to me—to perish
where I caused an innocent man to perish, and so
relieve you of a wife who was never worthy of
you and whom it would be your duty to denounce
if she let another sun rise upon her guilt.
"I did not stand there long between the wraiths
of my murderous ancestors. A message was shout-
ed through the door—the message for which my
ears had been strained in dreadful anticipation for
the last two hours. A man named Pfeiffer wanted
to see me before I went down to be married. A
man named Pfeiffer!
"I looked closely at the boy who delivered this
message. He showed no excitement, nor any feel-
ing greater than impatience at being kept waiting
a minute or so at the door. Then I glanced be-


394 THE FILIGREE BALL
yond him, at the people chatting in the hall. No
alarm there; nothing but a very natural surprise
that the bride should keep so big a crowd waiting.
I felt that this fixed the event. He who had sent
me this quiet message was true to himself and to
our old compact. He had not published below
what would have set the house in an uproar in a
moment. He had left his secret to be breathed
into my ear alone. I could recall the moment he
passed me his word, and his firm look as he said,
with his hand lifted to Heaven—'You have been
good to me and given me your precious self while
I was poor and a nobody. In return, I swear to
keep our marriage a secret till great success shows
me to be worthy of you or till you with your own
lips express forgiveness of my failure and grant me
leave to speak. Nothing but death or your per-
mission shall ever unseal my lips.' When I heard
that he was dead I feared lest he might have spoken,
but now that I had seen him alive, I knew that in
no other breast, save his, my own and that of the
unknown minister in an almost unknown town,
dwelt any knowledge of the fact which stood be-
tween me and the marriage which all these people
had come here to see. My confidence in his recti-
tude determined me. Without conscious emotion,
without fear even,—the ending of suspense had


"WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?" 395
ended all that,—I told the boy to seat the gentle-
man in the library. Then—
"I am haunted now, I am haunted always, by one
vision, horrible but persistent. It will not leave
me; it rises between us now; it has stood between
us ever since I left that house with the seal of your
affection on my lips. Last night it terrified me
into unconscious speech. I dreamed that I saw
again, and plainly, what I caught but a shadowy
glimpse of in that murderous hour: a man's form
seated at the end of the old settle, with his head lean-
ing back, in silent contemplation. His face was
turned the other way—I thanked God for that—no,
I did not thank God; I never thought of God in
that moment of my blind feeling about for a chink
and a spring in the wall. I thought only of your
impatience, and the people waiting, and the pleas-
ure of days to come when, free from this intoler-
able bond, I could keep my place at your side
and bear your name unreproved and taste to the
full the awe and delight of a passion such as few
women ever feel, because few women were ever
loved by a man like you. Had my thoughts been
elsewhere, my fingers might have forgotten to fum-
ble along that wall, and I had been simply wretched
to-day,—and innocent. Innocent! 0, where in


396 THE FILIGREE BALL
God's universe can I be made innocent again and
fit to look in your face and to love—heart-breaking
thought—even to love you again?
"To turn and turn a miserable crank after those
moments of frenzied action and silence—that was
the hard part—that was what tried my nerve and
first robbed me of calmness. But I dared not leave
that fearful thing dangling there; I had to wind.
The machinery squeaked, and its noise seemed to
fill the house, but no one came nor did the door be-
low open. Sometimes I have wished that it had.
I should not then have been lured on and you
would not have become involved in my ruin.
"I have heard many say that I looked radiant
when I came down to be married. The radiance
was in their thoughts. Or if my face did shine,
and if I moved as if treading on air, it was because
I had triumphed over all difficulties and could pass
down to the altar without fear of that interrupt-
ing voice crying out: 'I forbid! She is mine!
The wife of William Pfeiffer can not wed another!'
No such words could be dreaded now. The lips
which might have spoken them were dumb. I for-
got that fleshless lips gibber loudest, and that a
lifetime, long or short, lay before me, in which to
hear them mumble and squeak their denunciation


"WHO WILL TELL THE MAN?" 397
and threats. Oh, but I have been wretched! At
ball and dinner and dance those lips have been
ever at my ear, but most when we have sat alone to-
gether; most then; Oh, most then!
"He is avenged; but you! Who will avenge you,
and where will you ever find happiness?
"To blot myself from your memory I would go
down deeper into the vale of suffering than ever I
have gone yet. But no, no! do not quite forget
me. Remember me as you saw me one night—the
night you took the flower out of my hair and kissed
it, saying that Washington held many beautiful
women, but that none of them save myself had
ever had the power to move your inmost heart-
strings. Ah, low was your voice and eloquent your
eyes that hour, and I forgot,—for a moment I for-
got—everything but this pure love, and the heart-
beat it called up and the hope, never to be realized
—that I should live to hear you repeat the same
sweet words in our old age, in just such a tone and
with just such a look. I was innocent at that mo-
ment, innocent and good. I am willing that you
should remember me as I was that night.
"When I think of him lying cold and dead in
the grave I myself dug for him, my heart is like
stone, but when I think of you—


400 THE FILIGREE BALL
That was all. It ended, as it began, without
name and without date,—the final heart-throbs of
a soul, awakened to its own act when it was quite
too late. A piteous memorial which daunted each
one of us as we read it, and when finished, drew us'
all together in the hall out of the sight and hearing
of the two persons most intimately concerned in it.
Possibly because all had one thought—a thrill-
ing one, which the major was the first to give utter-
ance to.
"The man she killed was buried under the name
of Wallace. How's that, if he was her husband,
William?"
An officer we had not before noted was standing
near the front door. He came forward at this and
placed a second telegram in the superintendent's
hand. It was from the same source as the one pre-
viously received and appeared to settle this very
question.
"I have just learned that the man married was
not the one who kept store in Owosso, but his
brother William, who afterward died in Klondike.
It is Wallace whose death you are investigating."
"What snarl is here?" asked the major.
"I think I understand," I ventured to put in.
"Her husband was the one left on the road by the


RUDGE 405
evening of May the eleventh, crouching in front of
this house with his nose to the curbstone?"
"It is; I noted him particularly; he seemed to
be watching the opposite house."
Instantly I turned upon Mr. Moore.
"Is Rudge the dog to do that," I asked, "if his
master were not there? Twice have I myself seen
him in the self-same place and with the self-
same air of expectant attention, and both times
you had crossed to the house which you acknowl-
edge he will approach no nearer than the curb
on this side of the street."
"You have me," was the short reply with which
Mr. Moore gave up the struggle. "Rudge, go
back to your place. When you are wanted in the
court-room I will let you know."
The smile with which he said this was sarcastic
enough, but it was sarcasm directed mainly against
himself. We were not surprised when, after some
sharp persuasion on the part of the major, he
launched into the following recital of his secret
relation to what he called the last tragedy ever
likely to occur in the Moore family.
"I never thought it wrong to be curious about
the old place; I never thought it wrong to be curi-
ous about its mysteries. I only considered it wrong,
or at all events ill judged, to annoy Veronica in


408 THE FILIGREE BALL
ing upstairs the night before. So leaving the light
burning in the library, I proceeded to the southwest
chamber, holding an unlit candle in my hand, the
light feebly diffused through the halls from some
upper windows being sufficient for me to see my
way. But in the chamber itself all was dark.
The wind had not yet risen and the shutter which
a half-hour later moved so restlessly on its creaking
hinges, hugged the window so tightly that I imag-
ined Mr. Jeffrey had fastened it the night before.
Looking for some receptacle in which to set the can-
dle I now lit, I failed to find anything but an empty
tumbler, so I made use of that. Then I glanced
about me, but seeing nothing worth my attention—
Mrs. Jeffrey's wedding fixings did not interest me,
and everything else about the room looking natural
except the overturned chair, which struck me as im-
material—I hurried downstairs again, leaving the
candle burning behind me in case I should wish to
return aloft after I had refreshed my mind with
what had been written about this old room.
"Not a sound disturbed the house as I seated
myself to my reading in front of the library
shelves. I was as much alone under that desolate
roof as mortal could be with men anywhere within
reach of him. I enjoyed the solitude and was
making a very pretty theory for myself on a scrap
of paper I tore from another old book when a noise


RUDGE 409
suddenly rose in front, which, slight as it was, was
quite unmistakable to ears trained in listening.
Some one was unlocking the front door.
"Naturally I thought it to be Mr. Jeffrey re-
turning for a second visit to his wife's house, and
knowing what I might expect if he surprised me
on the premises, I restored the book hastily to its
place and as hastily blew out the candle. Then,
with every intention of flight, I backed toward the
door by which I had entered. But some impulse
stronger than that of escape made me stop just be-
fore I reached it. I could see nothing; the place
was dark as Tophet; but I could listen. The person
—Mr. Jeffrey, or some other—was coming my way
and in perfect darkness. I could hear the faltering
steps—the fingers dragging along the walls; then
a rustle as of skirts, proving the intruder to be a
woman—a fact which greatly surprised me—then
a long drawn sigh or gasp.
"The last determined me. The situation was too
intense for me to leave without first learning who
the woman was who in terror and shrinking dared
to drag her half resisting feet through these empty
halls and into a place cursed with such unwhole-
some memories. I did not think of Veronica. No
one looks for a butterfly in the depths of a dun-
geon. But I did think of Miss Tuttle—that wom-
an of resolute will. Without attempting to im-


410 THE FILIGREE BALL
agine the reason for her presence, I stood my
ground and harkened till the heavy mahogany
door at the other end of the room began to swing
in by jerks under the faint and tremulous push of
a terrified hand. Then there came silence—a long
silence—followed by a moan so agonized that I
realized that whatever was the cause of this panting
woman's presence here, it was due to no mere errand
of curiosity. This whetted my purpose. Anything
done in this house was in a way done to me; so
I remained quiet and watched. But the sounds
which now and then came from the remote corner
upon which my attention was concentrated were
very eloquent.
I heard sighs and bitter groans, with now and
then a murmured prayer, broken by a low wail-
ing, in which I caught the name of Francis. And
still, possibly on account of the utterance of this
name, I thought the woman near me to be Miss
Tuttle, and even went so far as to imagine the
cause of her suffering if not the nature of her
retribution. Words succeeded cries and I caught
phrases expressive of fear and some sort of agon-
ized hesitation. Once these broken ejaculations
were interrupted by a dull sound. Something
had dropped to the bare floor. We shall never
know what it was, but I have no doubt that it was
the pistol, and that the marks of dust to be found


RUDGE 413
to punish, but which all society will condemn.
Henceforth you will find yourself under a ban, Mr.
Moore."*
My story ends here. The matter never came
before the grand jury. Suicide had been proved,
and there the affair rested. Of myself it is enough
to add that I sometimes call in Durbin to help me
in a big case.
* Time amply verified this prophecy. Mr. Moore is liv-
ing in great style in the Moore house, and drives horses
which are conspicuous even in Washington. But no one
accepts his invitations, and he is as much of a recluse in
his present mansion as he ever was in the humble cottage
in which his days of penury were spent.


XXVII
"YOU HAVE COME ! YOU HAVE SOUGHT ME!"
These are some words from a letter written a few
months after the foregoing by one Mrs. Edward
Truscott to a friend in New York:
"Edinburgh, May 7th, 1900.
"Dear Louisa:—You have always accused me of
seeing more and hearing more than any other per-
son of your acquaintance. Perhaps I am fortunate
in that respect. Certainly I have been favored to-
day with an adventure of some interest which I
make haste to relate to you.
"Being anxious to take home with me some
sketches of the exquisite ornamentation in the
Rosslyn chapel about which I wrote you so enthu-
siastically the other day, I took advantage of Ed-
ward's absence this morning to visit the place
again and this time alone. The sky was clear and
the air balmy, and as I approached the spot from
the near-by station I was not surprised to see an-
other woman straying quietly about the exterior
414


416 THE FILIGREE BALL
caught the rustle of her dress as she sat down upon
a bench at the head of the steps near which I stood.
Somehow that sigh deterred me. I hesitated to
break in upon a melancholy so invincible that even
the sight of all this loveliness could not charm it
away, and in that moment of hesitation something
occurred above which fixed me to my place in irre-
pressible curiosity.
"Another step had entered the open door of the
chapel—a man's step—eager and with a purpose
in it eloquent of something deeper than a mere
tourist's interest in this loveliest of interiors. The
cry which escaped her lips, the tone in which he
breathed her name in his hurried advance, con-
vinced me that this was a meeting of two lovers
after a long heart-break and that I should mar the
supreme moment of their lives by intruding into
it the unwelcome presence of a stranger. So I
lingered where I was and thus heard what passed
between them at this moment of all moments in
their lives.
"It was she who spoke first.
"'Francis, you have come! You have sought
me!'
"To which he replied in choked accents which
yet could not conceal the inexpressible elation of his
heart:
"'Yes, I have come, I have sought you. Why


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ST