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CHR
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Harvard College Library
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THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH









“IT IS A WEIRD AND GRUESOME
SPECTACLE”
(Page 246 )


THE MYSTERY OF
JUNE 13TH
BY
MELVIN L. SEVERY
AUTHOR OF
“THE DARROW ENIGMA,” Etc.
Ilustrated By
THE KINNEYS
NEW YORK
DODD, MEAD AND COMPANY
1905


ایسی
AL 33 68,3,35
SARVARD COLLEGE
NOV 24 1907
LIBRARY)
By exchange
COPYRIGHT, 1905,
..
BY
DODD, MEAD & COMPANY
Published September, 1905


FOREWORD
THE generous reception which the Press and Public
gave “The Darrow Enigma” is responsible for the
present story..
May it not be considered an ungracious return for
the kind treatment I have received.
Lest a misapprehension spread still further, it is per-
haps but fair to state here that I am not a student of
detective literature; that I know little of the methods
usually employed in such stories, and have not felt it
necessary to follow that little.
I am even guilty of the heresy of believing that a
“mystery story" may be written in the perusal of which
the reader will find not merely pleasure, but a modicum
of profit as well.
Should the present story justify this belief, in howso-
ever slight a degree, I shall be well pleased.
M. L. S.
ARLINGTON HEIGHTS, MASS., 1905.





CONTENTS
PAGE
EPISODE FIRST
THE PAKEHA
EPISODE SECOND
THE MARKED MAN
41
EPISODE THIRD
THE BLOW IN THE DARK
121
EPISODE FOURTH
THE CORPUS DELICTI
185
EPISODE FIFTH
THE FEAST OF THE LONG WHITE PIG
i 253
EPISODE SIXTH
THE MYSTERIOUS CRYPTOGRAM
329
EPISODE SEVENTH
Run To EARTH
409
GLOSSARY
567





ILLUSTRATIONS
IS A WEIRD AND GRUESOME SPECTACLE
Frontispiece
“Stay, O ARIKI !'"
Facing page 18
“'WE WILL REST NOW FOR THE DAY'"
“
"
44
“WILL YOU RECOGNISE ME AS THE EICHBERG PROXY?
DOWN ON THY KNEES AND SPEAK THE TRUTH BEFORE
I BLAST THEE!'”
“
“
310
“IN AN INSTANT PANDEMONIUM REIGNS!”
66
"
546





EPISODE FIRST
The Pakeha





CHAPTER 1
Where the great oak falls the clinging ivy goes down with it,
and there is long a vacant space which only memory can fill.
In shape, New Zealand closely resembles the human leg
below the knee, Cook Strait being a dislocation in the
vicinity of the lower end of the tibia. The shore of
what is now Hawke Bay occupies the place of the pos-
terior ligament. From Cape Kidnappers to Mahia
Peninsula the imagination easily stretches a tendo
Achillis.
When the pakeha, or white man, first set his heel upon
the heel of New Zealand, he found upon the shores of
the present Hawke Bay a powerful Maori tribe known
as the Mohakakas. In those days,-and it is not so
very long ago either,-every Maori village was strongly
fortified. Incessant tribal wars reduced offensive and
defensive military tactics to an exact science.
The Maori who was taken prisoner by an enemy was
always referred to by his family and friends as dead, and
the disgrace followed his descendants ever after. Can-
nibalism was the rule, and the two worst taunts that
could be applied to a foe took something like these
forms: “ Your great-aunt's cousin was taken prisoner
by the Rarawa !” or “ The Ngatiroa chewed the uncle.
of your father's grandfather!”.
To such a people war was the great end of life, and
? deeds of valour which mark Maori history in its every
oter make the Homeric legends read like records
boze botomised for nursery use.


4
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
to sceedingly tough thirteenth of Juha more than usument
Something like half a century ago an event occurred
in the pah of the Mohakakas which is of present interest.
This pah, or fortress, was nearly square and enclosed an
area of about five acres. Its chief defence was a stock-
ade some sixteen feet high, the timbers of which were
joined, at a height of ten feet from the ground, by very
long cross-pieces, the whole thing being securely lashed
together with a rope made of toro-toro, a creeping plant
exceedingly tough and well adapted to the purpose.
On the eventful thirteenth of June in question, the
village of the Mohakakas presents a more than usually
animated spectacle, for after several days of inclement
weather has come at last a day so perfect that old and
young alike are irresistibly wooed out into light and
life.
In the bay, taking advantage of the flood-tide, the
Moschetto fleet of canoes, fully one hundred in number,
are fishing for the kahawai, which, though two or three
times as large as the mackerel, resembles that fish both
in appearance and in the fact that it is best taken by a
moving bait.
The little flotilla upon the water, its component parts
darting about like erratic shuttles, and the busy groups
upon the beach lend an air of animation to the scene.
Both sexes and all ages are well represented.
In the background groups of youths are practising the
6 three R’s ” of Maori education, running, wrestling
and reed-throwing.
Standing near the landing-place
from her companions is Tui, the fi.
kaka maidens. She is tapued 1 to
chief or Ariki of the tribe. Tall, lit
luxuriant silky hair falling in rip
ground, and the dark, luminous ey
1 See glossary.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
trospective fire, Tui is a maiden of whom any chief may
well be proud. Her features have the high cast and
noble regularity of the Polynesian, with its Mosaic out-
lines unpolluted by the faintest trace of the Negroid
Papuan, who, as the original possessor of the country,
has, in far too many cases, avenged his conquest by
lowering the physical standard of his conquerors. By
no means the least of this maiden's charms is her won-
derful voice, which has given to her the name of “ The
Tui,” the bird which ushers in the morn.
Clad in a splendid kaitaka shawl, the staple of which
is of the finest ngaro flax worked in a small diamond-
shaped pattern, and the fringe of which is of the long,
white hair of the dog, she seems, at a short distance, to
be clothed in a loose mantle of silk, so worn as to leave
her right arm and neck bare, and to expose, ever and
anon, the delicately modelled charms of her figure.
She is leaning now against the stockade with a dreamy,
far-away look in her eyes. Of what is she thinking?
Upon what is youth and beauty wont to dwell when
Love's spring freshets swirl about the heart? Mayhap
her mind is busy with her bronze Apollo-her hand-
some lover, the head chief of her tribe, absent upon a
short journey up the Mohaka river. Who can tell?-
But stay! Now the glance changes, loses its broad,
vague, ocean-like introspection, narrows into the straits
of close observation, and focusses upon a man a few
paces in front of her. This man shows unmistakable evi-
dences of a mixture of the Papuan and the Polynesian.
He has the broad, high forehead of the superior race,
with the crisp, curly hair, projecting jaw, broad nose
and constant smile of the inferior Nigritic race. His
L-aring is that of one high in authority, and his every
uvement marks him as a man of power and prestige,
, as the Maori would say, “Great is his mana.”
observat her. The Papu
paces in observation, apection, narrows in


6
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
An expression of mixed suspicion and scorn mars Tui's
fine face as she watches this man's slightest action. He
has paid her most distinguished and persistent attention
up to the very day of her betrothal, yet, despite the fact
that he could boast more riches, more wives, and a
greater mana than any other member of the tribe, her
heart did not soften toward him. She is to-day, if
possible, more suspicious of him than ever before. She
sees him glance furtively about him; notes the move-
ment of his lips as he repeats something to himself which
she cannot make out; and observes him pause under a
tree, reach both arms upward and grasp a twig in each
hand. She detects the peculiar little jerk of the wrist
· with which he detaches the tender shoots, and even -
notices that the twig in his left hand—the sinister
hand is the longer of the two. Nor does the fact
escape her that Oraka, the tohunga,” is pleased with this
evil omen. r
For a long time a vague, nebulous suspicion has been
slowly gaining form just below the surface of Tui's
consciousness. It is not yet substantial enough for
her to seize, nor definite enough for her fully to com-
prehend it, still she feels it hourly gaining solidity and
assuming sharpness of outline. She is debating the
propriety of confiding her fears to her lover at their
next meeting, when a low wail, like to the sound of dis-
tant lamentation, falls upon her ear. The tohunga
hears it too, and a fierce light is in his eyes as he hurries
away in the direction from which the sound proceeds.
Deep in her heart of hearts Tui knows, yet knows not
how she knows—that the worst has happened. Bad
news has a telepathy all its own. The poor, trembling,
fear-bitten maiden has not long to wait for the con-
firmation of her gravest doubts.
* See glossary.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
.
Two men are already to be seen in the distance bring-
ing into the village a kaw-shore. Upon this is a re-
cumbent form which Tui instinctively feels to be that
of her young lover, the Ariki—and she is right.
The mournful procession, its ranks now swollen by all
those who were working outside the pah, enters the
stockade and advances to the centre of the enclosure.
Here the men put down the kaw-shore. The grief-
stricken people press close about the prostrate chief,
but the tohunga imperiously orders them to fall back.
Those in front, and Tui is among the foremost, see
Oraka remove the bandage from the young Ariki's head
and note the wound near his left temple from which the
blood pours in a thin stream. The tohunga takes a
little flask from beneath his pureki and catches a few
drops of the crimson fluid. Before the compress can be
readjusted the eyes of the wounded man roll upward
and he appears to be dying. The tohunga hastily
seizes him by the shoulder and shakes him rudely, as he
shouts in his ear:
“ Kia kotahi ki te ao! Kia kotahi ki te ao! Kia
kotahi ki te po!”
With a convulsive effort the prostrate chief springs to
his feet and brandishes his spear.
“ Charge, Tara! Charge, Karaka!” he cries,
imagining himself again upon the battlefield. “At
them again! Ye are no boys in whom the sap of life is
still rising that ye shall drop of fatigue after the first
blow! Well done, Karaka! Thou art a good man
(tino tangata)!”
For a moment the trusty spear cut the air into
flashes of jade-green light, followed by a lightning-like
thrust.
“ Ki au te mataika!” cries the young chief in the
exultation of delirium, holding aloft the imaginary head


8
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
of his enemy. For a brief space he remains silent, as
if his effort and the loss of blood had quite overcome
him.
The tohunga utilises this pause to say:
“O thou, the Elder Father (Te Kan Matua), go not
to Te Reigna till thou hast told us thy slayer's name,
that Karaka, thy brother, may take full payment (utu)!
Speak, O Ariki! and ere the fall of the leaf he shall bake
thy murderer's head and swallow his eyes, even as Hongi
Ika did those of Te Tihi at Hokianga. Canst thou not
speak, O Elder Father?”
Thus besought, Te Wira, Ariki of the Mohakakas,
checks the incoherent mutterings into which he has re-
lapsed, and makes a vain effort to comprehend the ques-
tion. For a moment he seems striving to recall some
experience, then he taps his head gently with his left
forefinger and says faintly:
“No hea. The thought is with you. I cannot say.-
Tui, my Bird, where is she?”
The weeping maiden steps forth from among the sor-
rowing women, but Death drops his black curtain of de-
lirium between the young chief and his betrothed! The
dying man has had his last rational moment. Again,-
the ruling passion still strong in death,--he is upon the
battlefield cutting down all before him. Now, raising
his spear for a mighty thrust, he hurls it far into the as-
sembled multitude, shouting, as his eyes blaze with their
last feverish fire:
“Na! Na! mate rawa!” and then plunging headlong
upon the ground.
The tohunga quickly bends over him and cries aloud
close to his ear, as he roughly shakes him:
“ Kia kotahi ki te ao! Kia kotahi ki te po!”
No response rewards his efforts. The bronze Apollo
is dead.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
9
“ He has gone to Te Reigna on the wings of the upper
air," says the tohunga solemnly.
At this sad announcement a great cry of lamentation
arises from the assembled tribe. Again and again the
prolonged notes of anguish fill the air. Then, as if by
common consent, many of the young women, led by Tui,
come forward, cut off their hair, and strew it about the
body of their beloved chief.
The older women now range themselves in a long line
before the dead, screaming, wailing and quivering their
hands about in the most extraordinary manner while
cutting themselves severely with sharp flints and shells.
In the centre of the line Te Alis Ora, mother of the de-
ceased, presents a most ghastly spectacle. She is sing-
ing a dirge-like wail, and is literally covered with blood.
-But listen! They are beginning to sing the tangi.
The low, monotonous chant of many voices in mournful
cadence rolls like a retiring wave far out to sea. When it
is finished a breathless silence reigns, broken only by the
half-suppressed sobs of the women. This, in its turn,
is followed by a low murmur of mixed fear and horror as
the dense human mass parts in the middle as if a gigan-
tic wedge had been driven into its centre. At the
farther end of the avenue thus made appears the under-
taker of the tribe. He is clad from head to foot in red
and tapued an inch thick, for his handling of the dead
renders him so unclean a thing that he is shunned as if
he were a leper.
Straight down the ever-widening gap shambles the
man of red. Before he reaches the dead the people are
already dispersing. They will gather again in a short
time when the body of the young chieftain sits in state.
In the dense growth by the Mohaka river sit two young


10
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
wome to strangle thens mingle with to drown its
women, sisters of the dead Ariki, spinning a cord where-
with to strangle themselves. The flax is wet with their
tears, and their sighs mingle with, and are lost in, the
plaint of the river as it rushes on to drown its troubles
in the unknown sea, even as they are hurrying down the
torrent of their grief to the uncharted ocean of the
great beyond. Their task finished, they conceal the cord
and return to the pah to pay their last respects to the
dead. They are just in time to join in the singing of
the pihe, or funeral chant, which is sung standing before
the dead.
As the last sad wail dies upon the air Te Ara, the best
spearman of the tribe, begins his speech in praise of the
dead, bounding all the while to and fro before the
corpse with his famous spear in hand.
“ Farewell, Te Wira! Go, taking with thee thy kind-
ness and hospitality, thy generosity and valour, and leave
none behind who can fill thy place! We strove to hold
thee to us, but who can bind a flowing river? Farewell, O
Elder Father! Our hearts roll about in the hollows of
our breasts. We are filled with aroha for thee. Last
night the moon was eaten into by a star, yet the thought
of its meaning was not with us. Thou wert a great toa,
and great was thy mana and great the mana of thy
spear. When the battle raged neither didst thou
remember the light of this world, nor take thought of
life. Woe! Woe! that thou shouldst be killed in time of
peace! Great are the salt tears, and greater shall be
the tears of blood shed in vengeance (utu), because thy
taking off was a kohoru. Short was thy life, but so it
is with heroes.-Farewell, O Ariki! Farewell!”
And now follow other orations by the leading ranga-
tiras of the tribe. Karaka, the eldest of the dead chief's
three brothers, is the last to speak, and his words are
few as befits the occasion.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 11
Thrice he bounds by the corpse before he utters a
syllable, and his countenance is fearful to look upon.
At length he controls his emotion sufficiently to speak.
“ Farewell, O my brother! Many are the times we have
fought together by the light of our enemies' eyes. The
thought is still with me that it was but last bird-moon
thou savedst me from the death of capture. Farewell,
O Ariki! One wing of the Mohakakas is broken and
hangs dangling on the ground. Black is the cloud
above us and full are the skies of tears. The waves,
booming like the little big-guns of the pakeha sea-birds,
shall be thy powder of pain (paura mamae)! No fair
fight killed thee, O my brother !-Friends, warriors, the
best lamentation for a toa is a blow struck against his
enemy. To-night Oraka calls up the spirit of the dead.
We shall then learn the murderer's name and then—no
Mohakaka rangatira ever forgets an injury! I will
repay, be sure, cost what it may in effort or in years !
Till to-night, then, farewell, O Te Wira, my beloved
brother, farewell! ”
It is night. In the common house of the pah are as-
sembled the tribe's rangatiras and the relatives of the
dead Ariki. Even his two baby brothers, aged respec-
tively two and four years, are there in the shadow, close
by Karaka, now the head of the family. James El-
dredge Moreton, the Mohakaka pakeha, who has just re-
turned to the village, is there also. The small fire of
puriri-wood, a fuel which burns like charcoal, casts an
uncertain flicker about the apartment. The priest is
lying in the darkest corner upon the rushes with which
the floor is strewn.
The first watch of the night has been passed in anx-
ious expectation, yet nothing has occurred to break


12
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
les his is as I the ho of w
the silence, save the sobs of the women and the sighs of
the men. The fire is now but a handful of glowing
coals and the room is almost in total darkness. Over-
come by fatigue, many have stretched themselves upon
the rushes near the fire and not a few are asleep. The
tohunga in the corner is snoring. Tui's sobs are in-
terspersed with moans that are not good for one to
hear-
“ Did you hear that?"
The awe-aspirated question is asked simultaneously by
half-a-dozen of the more wakeful watchers, and he who
is nearest the tohunga seizes his foot and arouses him.
The noise increases till it sounds as if someone were
forcing his way through the rushes into the house.
And now a vague, mysterious voice, a sort of weird,
hollow whistle rendered articulate and sounding like the
wind blowing into a conch-shell, proceeds from the roof
of the building near its back wall.
“ Salutation! Salutation to you all! Salutation!
Salutation to you, my tribe! Family, I salute you!
Friends, I salute you! Beloved, my Bird, I salute you!"
The effect is magical. A cry of affection and despair,
such as lives ever in the inner ear, escapes the weeping
Tui as she springs to her feet and, with arms wildly ex-
tended, rushes toward the thicker gloom pervading the
back of the apartment. Instantly her two brothers
seize her by the waist and hold her fast.
“ Is it you? Is it you? Truly, is it you?" she cries.
“Aue! Aue! They hold me! Wonder not that I have
not followed you. They restrain me; they watch me;
but I go to you! The sun shall not rise, the sun shall
not rise! Aue! Aue!” and she falls insensible upon
the rush floor.
Again the spirit-voice, and this time the words proceed
from the ground beneath the dying embers:


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 13
“ Speak to me, the tribe! Speak to me, the family!
Speak to me (a long pause] the pakeha !”
“How is it with you? Is it well with you in that
country?" asks Karaka, the brother.
“ It is well with me. My place is a good place," re-
plies the spirit.
During this awe-inspiring dialogue Tui, who is near
the door, succeeds in leaving the apartment unobserved.
“ Have you seen our father and our sister?” con-
tinues Karaka.
“ Yes, I have seen."
“ Tell them my love is great toward them and will
never end.”
“ Yes, I will tell.”
“ Have you seen Hauraki and Te Tao and Tara ?”
“Yes, they are all with me. Speak out the thoughts
that be with you. You have something else to ask.”
“ Yes, so it is!” exclaims Karaka fiercely. “We would
know who murdered thee."
“ Farewell, O tribe !” cries the spirit from high in the
air.
“ Stay!" shouts Karaka. “Tell us who killed thee! ”
“ Ask the pakeha!” replies the spirit from deep be-
neath the ground. “Farewell, my family, I go! When
my blood is poured out I will come again. Farewell!”
and then high in the air, “Farewell!" and again all but
lost in the distance, “Farewell!”
“ Farewell! Farewell, O Elder Father! Farewell, O
Ariki! Farewell, O my brother!” comes in awe-stricken
chorus from the assembly. For a moment there is a
dead silence, and then Karaka exclaims:
“ The pakeha! The pakeha! We'll ask the pakeha!”
But the pakeha is not there, yet no one saw him leave,
80 rapt was the attention!
As Karaka and his warriors rush forth to find More-


14
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
ton the report of a musket rends the darkness, and in at
the now open doorway streams a lurid light.
“Fire! Fire!”
The cry seems only to add to the commotion. Men
hastily arm themselves, while women, doubly stricken
with panic, run aimlessly to and fro. The flames which
consume the burning house illumine the building next to
it, and exhibit a never-to-be-forgotten spectacle. In
the veranda of the house an old man is kneeling upon one
knee, while upon the other he supports the dead body
of a young girl, his daughter. His right arm is under
her neck and the lower part of his long, grey beard is
dabbled with blood. His left hand is twisting his
matted hair, as he howls in the impotency of a grief
and despair which know no hope. The delicate body
of the girl is bare from the waist up and besmeared with
blood.
She has fired the house for light, as well as to distract
the attention of any who may be watching her, secured a
musket, tied to its trigger a loop into which to insert
her foot, placed the muzzle to her aching heart and
blown herself to—to her lover!
“ She has followed her rangatira,” says the tohunga
in a low, tender voice ill matching the light in his eyes.
Indeed, Tui, thou saidst truly; for thee " the sun shall
not rise, the sun shall not rise!”
In the meantime the pakeha has left the village well
behind him. Long intercourse with Maoris has taught
him something of their methods.
It is the night of the fourteenth of June, the day after
the murder of the young Mohakaka chieftain. A small
fire of puriri-wood glows feebly in the forest beneath


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 15
the hollow rata tree, in which repose the remains of the
dead Ariki. Its dying embers, fanned by a gentle
breeze, faintly illumine a small circle in the forest and
make the engulfing darkness outside blacker and more
intense. On the side of the fire nearest the trunk of the
burial-tree stands the young priest, Oraka, while op-
posite him, with their eyes riveted upon him, are grouped
an even dozen of his fellow-tribesmen, among them
Karaka, the dead Ariki's eldest brother.
In his right hand the tohunga holds aloft a little
flask, while in his left is a small chalice. He drops a
single drop of the crimson fluid from the flask into the
little cup as he chants in a low, monotonous voice:
“ Behold, O Spirit of Te Wira, I pour forth thy
blood!”
“ Speak to us, O Elder Father (Te Kan Matua)!”
murmur the twelve men on the other side of the fire.
“ To each man here a drop of thy sacred life to conse-
crate him to everlasting vengeance. The first was mine,
O Ariki!” and Oraka counts the drops as they fall.
“ Two; Tomo!”
The Maori whose name is called raises aloft both hands
with the fingers widely spread and the palms toward the
tohunga.
“Every drop of my blood, O Elder Father!” he cries
aloud," shall avenge this drop of thine!”
“ Three; Te Maire!” calls the tohunga as he drops
the third drop into the chalice which he holds aloft.
Te Maire repeats Tomo's gesture as he says impres-
sively:
“As that drop is to the sea, O Ariki, so shall be all
other things but vengeance in my heart!”
“Four; Teu Kau!” and another drop falls into the
priest's cup.
“ As moulten metal shall that drop be in my soul, o


16 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Te Wira, till I have cooled it with a requiting flood!”
cries Teu Kau with upraised arms.
“ Five; Ruia !”
“My heart and all the crimson in it, o beloved chief,
is slave to that one ruby jewel of thine!”
“Six ; Panapa!”
“ That drop hath coloured my ambition red, 0 Elder
Father, and while thy enemies live the dye is fast!”
“ Seven ; Te Paki!”
“ As oil and flax to fire, so, O Te Wira, is this heart-
tear of thine to the flame of my revenge! Never shall
the blaze cease till vengeance' debt be fully paid!”
“ Eight; Korokoro!”
“ This crimson drop blots out my name and I am title-
less, O chief, till I shall write another in thy slayer's
blood!”
“ Nine; Te Phai!”
“ In vengeance, red as this sweat of pain, will I wade to
the level of mine eyes!”
“ Ten; Karaka!”
“May this drop fall, and fall, and fall again, till it
shall wear to shreds my quickest sense, if ever I forget
the blood that's due thee, O my brother!”
“ Eleven; Tamati!”
“For vengeance, O Elder Father, I will live-or die,
if dying pays the higher price!”
“ Twelve; Te Ara !”
“ That drop is my round world; on it and it alone I
live till seas of crimson hate engulf it! Hearken to my
vow, O Spirit of Te Wira!”
66 Thirteen; Taipari!”
With hands aloft the last man speaks with solemn
accent.
" Blood cries for blood, and in my ear of vengeance
this one drop roars mighty as the thunder, putting to


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 17
the turn all milk of human kindness. Pity grows red;
Patience burns in the fierce yellow of hurry, and For-
giveness goes out in darkness! Be sure, 0 Ariki, I will
repay!”
The tohunga puts by the flask and kisses the chalice.
“ Thou hearest, O Elder Father, what thy people say!
In this cup are thirteen lives devoted all to vengeance.
For each man a drop, for each drop a man-thirteen in
all, and it was upon the thirteenth day that treachery
found thee. Hearken, O Spirit of Te Wira! Descend
into this cup and give us thy command!”
Oraka holds the chalice high above his head and de-
scribes with it a wide circle, calling into the darkness :
“Descend, o Te Wira!”
Again he makes the same gesture, saying ;
“ Descend, O Ariki!”
And still again the great circle and the cry into the
darkness:
“Descend into the chalice, 0 Elder Father! It is
Oraka calls !”
The tohunga makes an upward pass with the cup as
if to catch some falling object, and straightway a
thin, small voice proceeds from the chalice held aloft
in his left hand.
“ What would you have?” are the faintly audible
words it utters.
“ That thou shouldst direct our course of vengeance !"
answers the priest.
“ So be it!” responds the voice. “In this cup are
thirteen drops of blood and thirteen pledges. Spread
open thy left hand, 0 Oraka, and flatten its palm-s0;-
'tis well! Now twirl the cup thrice and quickly pour
its contents upon thy level palm!”
The tohunga does as the voice directs, after which he
addresses the presence as follows:


18
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Thus far, O Elder Father, thy will is done! What
more?”
A deep, hollow voice answers from the ground beneath
his feet:
“ Look at thy hand! Within its palm there is a stain.
Mark well its shape and let it be tattooed upon the
breasts of all who would avenge my murder!”
The young priest looks at his left handa The spot
of blood in its palm is shaped thus-
“ It shall be done, O Shade of our beloved
chief !” he murmurs.
“ Ay! Ay! so shall it be!” cry the
twelve from the other side of the fire.
Again the voice is heard, but this time from high in
the upper air, and it is thin and small like the drone of
some far-off insect.
“ Ye are now a secret brotherhood consecrated to
vengeance, and this symbol shall be the badge whereby
ye shall know one another.”
“Even as thou sayest, so shall it bę," solemnly replies
the priest.
“ Amen! Amen!” chorus the twelve.
“ Behold the emblem of vengeance!” cries the tohunga,
holding aloft his outspread hand that all may see the
figure in its palm.
“ And make ye thirteen daggers all alike," continues
the presence from the limbs of the hollow rata tree;
“ and let the symbol on Oraka's palm mark the blade of
each! Farewell, O my brothers! Farewell, Oraka ! and
to ye also, my faithful, farewell!”.
“ Stay, 0 Ariki!” cries the tohunga. “Tell us who
killed thee and the manner of our vengeance."
“ The first thou knowest already, O Man of Vision ! ”
replies the presence from the ground beneath the fire.
“My blood is on the pakeha's head. Let him be slain



66 STAY, O ARIKI ! »





THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 19
and desecrated, and suffer the name of Moreton to
spread no farther than his own household. It may be
long ere ye can find him, but let the years be to your
vengeance but as the strokes of the kea's wing.-Hold
aloft thy hand, O priest! Behold ye, my chosen ones,
the sign of the Brotherhood of Vengeance! In the name
of this symbol and of your sacred compact, I bid ye
farewell and good speed! Farewell! Farewell! Fare-
well!” and the thin voice loses itself in the darkness of
the upper air.
The thirteen men prostrate themselves upon the
ground.
From the pah of the Mohakakas to Port Nicholson or
Wellington is a matter of some two hundred miles or so.
This distance James Eldredge Moreton covers in six
days. When one remembers the condition of the roads at
this period, or rather that of those trails which the in-
flowing civilisation is beginning to call by that eupho-
nious name, and the further facts that the gentleman in
question is obliged to make the entire journey afoot,
and that he also feels it prudent to travel mostly by
night, he will be convinced that, as a pedestrian at least,
James Eldredge Moreton acquitted himself nobly.
He is careful to plan his journey so as to reach Wel-
lington under cover of the darkness. It is late Satur-
day night when he enters the town, and he goes directly
to Barrett's Hotel, where, after registering as Charles
Danforth of Auckland, he retires for the night. Over-
come by fatigue, he immediately falls into a troubled
sleep. The pains in his overworked joints cause him
to dream that the Mohakakas are dismembering and eat-
ing ham that thes in his oma
It is broad daylight when he awakes. He sends word


20
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
down to the office that he is ill and will keep his room.
He has been in Wellington before and remembers that
close by, a little farther along the shore of the bay, is
the Maori town of Te Aro. It is this thought which con-
fines Mr. Moreton to his room. He does not leave it
until flood-tide Friday, and even then he allows himself
barely time to settle Charles Danforth's account and
hurry aboard the vessel just weighing anchor for Liver-
pool.
It is not until he is well out in the Tasman Sea that a
feeling of quasi-security begins to take possession of
him, and even then he finds himself watching two dark-
skinned members of the crew with uncomfortable narrow-
ness.
As the weeks pass this feeling of suspicion grows upon
him. It mixes itself with the insupportable heat of the
Red Sea and all but drives him frantic. When his ship
touches at Naples a sudden determination seizes him
and, notwithstanding the fact that he has taken passage
for Liverpool, he abandons his luggage and, without a
word of explanation, deserts her.
A week later finds him in Venice. Young, of fine,
manly presence and handsome sunburned face, he soon
realises,—and there is seduction in the novelty of the
accompanying sensation,—that he is an object of in-
terest to the Italian fair sex. From this observation
to moonlight excursions on the Grand Canal is but the
short step which separates the subjective from the ob-
jective.
Ah! How fair are Italia's daughters when the rich
scarlet of youth mixes in their cheeks with the passion-
toned umber of the southern sun! Like ports of entry
to some undreamed heaven is the fathomless depth of
their dark eyes. Thus thinks young Mr. Moreton in


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
21
tints blaze fire gondola's sidaling kiss of litla
this, the beginning of his thirtieth year, or, to be exact,
thus does he think he thinks.
The moon has now put off the filmy veil that covered
her and the gondola floats down her beam as if it were a
raceway of molten gold. Beatrice Canova-ah, mia
figlia!-is sitting opposite him, bathed in an uncertain,
shimmering, green light that tones her to the passion
of the surrounding waters, and mingles the visual music
of her silence with the rippling kiss of little waves
caressing the gondola's sides. Ah, what gorgeous
tints blaze from the canvas of the Now when Youth
and Love make up its palette !—thoughts dyed deep
in the rainbow, and tender longings full of the fever
of the undispersed white light of the tropics!
Ah, no! the young man has not entirely forgotten a
sweet-voiced Maori maiden, his wife for but a few short
months,—who never seemed to understand him, but
he remembers her only as the central dream-figure of
another existence,-a picture of the past set in a deep
frame of black, and he shows this picture, as a matter
of honour, to the young maiden he loves.
He remembers also one Paolo Orsini, to whom Beatrice
Canova is betrothed,—remembers well his recent meet-
ing with this gentleman,—the suspicious glance that
stabbed him like a stiletto, and the convulsively twitch-
ing, tattooed hand that seemed all too willing to render
the look indelible ;—but this is all history, now, and has
been for three long days. Paolo's ship is now at sea
and ere it returns-How beautiful she is! By what
weird alchemy does the southern sun produce such
womanly perfection in fourteen short years?
“Tell me again that you never loved him,--that you
love only me!” the man exclaims passionately.
“ Indeed, so is it !” she replies, nestling closer to
him.
.


22
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ He is my parents' choice, not mine. I love-only
you!”
“ Then shall you be mine, and mine only, though there
were ten thousand parents and an army of Orsinis !”
which prejudged victory this ardent lover celebrates
in advance by appropriating to his own arms the very
casus belli!
And thus drifts the Night down the golden path of
the Moon.
Forty-eight hours later two gallant ships pass each
other in the Adriatic Sea. One is the Venezia, bound
for England, the other the Tuscan, bound for Venice.
Upon the former is a newly married couple clandestinely
leaving Italy, perhaps forever. Upon the latter is Cap-
tain Paolo Orsini, to whom the eloping maiden has been
plighted.
Darkness, and distance, which is another kind of dark-
ness, keep inarticulate the young couple's secret-for
the present at least.


CHAPTER II
To see the thunder-cloud is not to know just where its bolt
will fall.
NEARLY a quarter of a century after the events last
narrated Mr. and Mrs. James Moreton were residing
in Washington. Two years after their marriage Mrs.
Moreton had become the mother of a son, and three
years later she had presented her husband with a baby
girl. For nearly twenty years no other children had
come to bless the Moreton household, or to fill the
heart-vacancy left by the early death of the first-born.
The baby girl had become a handsome lass of eighteen
when the second boy came. In defiance of superstition,
his parents had given him the name of the first-born,-
Adrian Canova Moreton-and were well pleased.
If spectres of the past ever rose before Mr. Moreton,
no one else was permitted to know it. There was some-
thing in the serenity of his manner, the delicately modu-
lated kindness of his voice, and the light of his smile,
which bespoke not only rare physical well-being, but a
spirit at peace with all men. If the past had thrust any
thorns into his soul they must have been well encysted
long, long ago.
Reared in an atmosphere of love and tenderness, it
was but natural that Lucia Moreton, the daughter,
should blossom into a sweetness of full-petalled woman-
hood that made her the observed of all her companions
and endeared her to all who knew her.
But one cloud,-a mere hand-patch perchance, but
still a cloud, -obscured the Moreton horizon. This was
the mother's health. She had from her childhood been


24
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
subject to occasional attacks of epilepsy. This ailment
had come to her as a heritage from her mother, whose
natural eccentricity had, at several critical periods of
her life, grown into an alienation so well defined and
unmistakable that it had been thought best for her
own protection, as well as for her better treatment,
temporarily to place her in an asylum where she would
be in charge of the best Italian alienists.
As is so often the case, insanity in the parent expressed
itself as epilepsy in the child. These two neuroses,-
the insane and the epileptic,-seem to be, as it were,
convertible terms, either one in the parent being liable
to transmute itself into the other, as its reciprocal, in
the child.
The worst attack with which Mrs. Moreton had ever
been afflicted had occurred just prior to the birth of
little Adrian the Second. She was now nearly forty
years of age and soon again to become a mother. Small
wonder was it, therefore, that Mr. Moreton dreaded
this critical period with a fear all the more acute in
that it added to his memory of his wife's last attack
an intelligent appreciation of a certain new factor which
had now to be considered.
Southern women pass the milestones of their sex sooner
than their northern sisters. Early marriage still
further lowers the climacteric age. Mr. Moreton knew
that in the case of his wife these tendencies had added
themselves together like the summation of two waves
with coincident crests, and that he must, therefore, pre-
pare himself for an untoward combination of circum-
stances. He said nothing of all this to his wife, but he
watched her, if possible, with even more jealous care
than was his wont. When she began to experience
spectral hallucinations, and to be possessed by a vague,
inexplicable dread that something awful was about to


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
25
happen, he lived in daily expectation of the advent of
that aura epileptica which he knew only too well would
precede the convulsive climax. His wife's inexpressible
weariness, her inability to sleep, her extreme depression,
so different from her usual hopeful, happy and con-
fident mien, and the nervous twitching of her limbs,
were all symptoms which marshalled themselves in irre-
sistible phalanx before Mr. Moreton's beleaguered and
hourly weakening hope.
There is something demoniacal in the development of
any severe malady. The ailments which feed upon and
weaken the physical vitality are often appalling, but,
Oh, God! they are as nothing to the disease which inverts
the functions of the brain and poisons the very head-
waters of the soul!
What could Mr. Moreton do? He was fighting in the
dark a foe he had never really seen. Again he felt that
heavy sense of impending calamity which had gripped
his spirit the night before the occurrence of that dread-
ful affair which had driven him from New Zealand,
nearly a quarter of a century before. All men have at
least a tinge of superstition, though most of us prefer
to call it by another and more creditable name. This
presentiment, which had then come to him with such
overpowering conviction that it unsaid many a philo-
sophical dogma, descended again upon his spirit, as
a snuffer descends upon the flame of a candle. He
had laughed at his forebodings upon that first occasion,
but now he simply braced himself to receive what he
felt sure was to be loosed upon him. At all events, he
would not be taken off his guard.
Throughout their married life Mr. and Mrs. Moreton
had been in the habit of taking long walks together,
both of them being ardent pedestrians. Of late the
wife's condition had caused them materially to shorten


26
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
the course covered, but they still spent much time out
of doors. One fine June evening they set out for a walk.
It was the thirteenth of the month, a day already
memorable to the man, but ever thereafter to be marked
in the annals of the Moreton family by heavy-faced,
black type.
As they reached East Capitol Street, and turned down
toward the park, they met two men, who eyed them
sharply and even turned, after they had passed, and
watched them, as, all unconscious of having excited any
interest, the couple walked slowly away. One of the
men was of herculean proportions and the other, though
much smaller, was of more than average size, and each
was more or less disfigured, or beautified (according to
the point of view), by tattooing. Mrs. Moreton was
still a handsome woman, and it was no new thing for men
to stare at her in an undisguised admiration bordering
on rudeness. So engrossed were the couple in each other
that they did not bestow even so much as a glance upon
either of the men.
“ That's James Eldredge Moreton!” said one of the
men to the other as he laid his right hand gently upon
his companion's left forearm. “We turn here; follow
me," and they walked rapidly down Eighteenth Street,
N. E., to A Street, down A Street to Seventeenth Street,
and via Seventeenth Street back again to East Capitol
Street.
Why did these men make this rapid detour of a single
block and again proceed, with slackened pace, to follow
the couple?
Near the entrance to Lincoln Park, a little within
the gates, is a dense clump of shrubbery. Shortly after
the Moretons pass this two men seat themselves in its
shadow and begin conversing in a low voice. Neither of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
27
them notices a man lying prone upon the warm ground
just beyond a luxuriant clump of spirea. This
recumbent individual is busy with his own thoughts
and does not hear, or hearing, does not remember, any-
thing the men say until his attention is attracted, just
as they arise to depart, by what he regards as state-
ments most singular and erroneous. Their very absurd-
ity thrusts them upon his attention and hooks them
barb-deep into his memory.
“ His cane is my head!” exclaims one of the men
in an earnest undertone.
“Your head is your own,” replies the other, “but the
watch is my heart!” With which astounding assertions
the two companions betake themselves into the gather-
ing dusk, while the recumbent figure sits bolt upright
and rubs its eyes to make sure it is awake.
An hour later Mr. and Mrs. Moreton are preparing
to leave the park. It is now quite dark. As they enter
the dense shadow near the northwestern exit a man
springs out of the gloom, seizes Mr. Moreton by the
throat and says something to him which the wife does
not distinctly hear. She sees her husband raise his
cane to strike his assailant, and then, for the first time,
observes another man, who seizes the upraised arm from
behind. Then she sees something glisten in the lifted
left hand of the man who has throttled her husband,
detects a downward flash of light and hears a groan.
With a wild shriek she presses both her hands con-
vulsively to her own breast and feels the wound as
keenly as if the knife had entered it. It is all the work
of a moment. As her husband falls the second man
seizes her, places his hand over her mouth and says to
her in a low, intense voice, with his lips almost touching
her ear:
“Tell nothing that you have seen! You have a son


28
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
and daughter. If you are dumb they shall live, if
not, the Moreton race shall cease! Make no further
outcry!”
A moment later the terrified woman is alone and bend-
ing over her expiring husband. The weapon which has
given him his mortal wound still transfixes his left breast.
He had seized it, when it entered his body, with such
convulsive strength that the assassin had been unable
to wrest it from him. His hand, now relaxed, has fallen
away from the dagger. The wife at once sees the weapon,
and draws it gently from the wound. A torrent of blood
follows it, accompanied by a sigh and a quiver of the
dying mar's frame. The end has come, hastened by
this very act. James Moreton's presentiment of impend-
ing calamity again justifies itself, albeit not as he
expected.
The kneeling woman, with the dagger still clutched
tightly in her hand, speaks no word, utters no cry, is
not even aware that several persons, attracted by her
shriek, have already begun to gather about her. A
burning sensation seizes her feet and she thinks her
shoes are on fire; but it mounts quickly to her knees,
thence to her chest, where it gives her a constricted,
stifled feeling, till it seems to her as if she were being
strangled. And now the red wave, it would be visible
in daylight-rises to her neck, distends the throbbing
arteries and hurls itself, like the sanguinary net of a
retiarius, upon the struggling consciousness. Wild
lights flash in her eyes and dreadful noises assail her
ears, as, with flushed face, injected eyes, and horrible,
stertorous breathing, she springs to her feet and rushes,
dagger in hand, upon the nearest bystander.
The combined strength of four men is scarcely suf-
ficient to restrain her, till she sinks exhausted upon the
ground.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
29
At this juncture an officer arrives.
“ What have we here?” he asks.
66 The woman there has killed a man and tried to make
'way with me," replies the man who was assaulted.
6. There's the body over there."
The officer examines the corpse and notes, among other
things, that the victim's watch-chain is hanging from
his pocket.
The watch itself is gone!


CHAPTER III
As the twig is archetypal of the tree, so childhood builds the
ladder up which manhood climbs.
er the care of treatment, and the required medical,
It did not take the police officials long, after Mrs.
Moreton's arrest, to determine that she required medical,
rather than punitive, treatment, and they at once placed
her under the care of a specialist in nervous diseases.
Papers found upon the murdered man's person had
led to his identification, and his daughter had been
promptly notified of her bereavement. The blow had
so dazed her that she had found it impossible to under-
stand how her mother could for a moment have been
suspected.
After the first shock had passed Lucia was able to give
the authorities some information. When questioned
regarding her mother she explained, though not, how-
ever, without some reluctance, the terrible attacks to
which she had occasionally been subject, and referred
them to the family physician for further details. She
was most emphatic in her assertion, and well might she
be,-that her parents had been the very best of comrades
up to the very last,-indeed the last thing she had seen
her father do was to kiss her mother as together they
left the house for their walk.
The police were in a quandary. The testimony of the
victim's daughter, and the fact that both the watch
and cane were missing, seemed to make strongly in favour
of the wife's innocence. Then, too, the deed had been
committed with a dagger of peculiar construction, the
30


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
31
bone handle of which was elaborately and beautifully
carved. Such a weapon would have attracted atten-
tion anywhere, yet, search as they might, the authorities
could find no one who had ever before seen it, or who
could explain the meaning of the following peculiar
figure damascened into its metal:
Furthermore, Mr. Moreton's clothing had
shown evidences of a struggle, and the
ground about his body, moistened by the
afternoon shower, exhibited the clearly defined foot-
prints of two other men. This led to the belief that
two men were engaged in the murder, a theory which
gained additional credence from the testimony of one
Michael Flaherty, who came to police headquarters and
volunteered the following information:
“I coome inter th’ park about an hour befoore sundown
an' trun mesilf down on th' grass near the aist intrunce.
Oi'd been a-havin' a glass or two, an' so Oi didn't notice
how damp th' ground wuz. Well, afther Oi'd sprawled
there a whoile, Oi hears a couple o' min talkin' low-loike
to aich ither, jist on th'ither soide of a cloomp o’
bushes. Oi didn't pay no 'tintion to phwat they siz,-
Oi was dramin', mebbe—till all of a suddint Oi heerd
somethin' that brought me oop standin'. 'His cane is
moi head,' siz one o' the min. «Yer head is yer own,'
siz the ither, but th' watch is moi heart.' Whoilst
Oi was a-thryin' to make out phwat all this mint they
walks aff, an' that's th' lasht Oi sees o' thim. Whin Oi
rid in the paapers about the missin' watch an' cane
Oi to’ght o' phwat Oid heerd an' conclooded Oid
betther coome oop here an' till it.”
Thus it was that before the doctors would permit any-
one to question Mrs. Moreton, the authorities had
abandoned all thought of attempting to fasten the crime
upon her. Then they learned of one Paolo Orsini, a


32
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
tattooed, sea-faring Italian, to whom, many, many years
before, she had been betrothed, and they did their best
to locate him, but did not succeed in doing so.
For several weeks, during which time she gave birth
to her child, Mrs. Moreton's condition was most critical.
The baby was a boy and prematurely born. At first
it was thought impossible to save his life, but, to the
surprise of doctors and nurses alike, he evinced a re-
markable vitality for a being so puny. There was in
connection with him one thing which gave him, in medi-
cal circles, an importance quite beyond his intrinsic
merit, and that was a peculiar, lozenge-shaped birth-
mark upon his left breast, bearing an astonishing
resemblance to a dagger wound. Some of the more
conservative physicians, to whom the blemish was shown
as a matter of scientific interest, were inclined to the
belief that it was all merely a coincidence until they
learned that the mark was located in precisely the same
part of the left breast as the wound which had killed
Mr. Moreton. This knowledge and the testimony of
the mother that she had pressed both hands convulsively
to her breast, and had felt her husband's wound as if
the weapon had entered her own body, caused the most
conservative,—those who long since had put up their
intellectual shutters—to grudgingly admit that here at
last seemed to be an unquestionable instance of what
they had always before held to rest upon no better
foundation than the idle tales of midwives.
Mrs. Moreton slowly regained a fair measure of health,
but the elasticity of her disposition was gone forever.
She lived solely for her children. The story of her life
was done; the dénouement had already been written,
and she prayed for strength to fill in the perfunctory


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
33
outlines of the disillusioned tale. To know the goal
makes psychologically old the long path leading to it.
Remembering only too well the threat made by her
husband's assassins, she turned a deaf ear to all
attempts to elicit from her such information as might
lead to the apprehension of the guilty parties.
Contrary to all expectations, Baby Moreton not only
lived, but flourished. The bereaved mother named him
“ James Eldredge,” after his father, and fondly hoped
he might grow to be as perfect a man. As the years
went by little James began to give abundant evidence
that he was not exactly like other children. He was all
but totally indifferent to physical pain, and this fact,
as might have been expected, often made him cruel and
cold blooded in his acts, depriving him as it did of the
ability to put himself in a sufferer's place. He had
alternate periods of exaltation and depression, and often
there did not seem, to the casual observer, to be any
very good reason for either state. He was, as it were,
a child of extremes, yet whatever his transient condition,
certain underlying traits of character always made
themselves felt. His will was unconquerable. Whenever .
he set his mind upon a thing, that thing would he have.
This gave his mother much uneasiness and his playmates
not a little inconvenience.
An instance fairly illustrative of his temperament
occurred upon his entrance to the grammar school. His
very first day was made memorable by his encounter
with the ubiquitous bully. This conspicuous savage,
rendered immune from effective retort, as he fondly
believed, by his superior stature, proceeded to indulge
in what appeared to his peculiar bias as rare sport,
using Master James Moreton, the while, as a base of
supplies. James, who was experiencing one of his
periods of depression, felt much disinclined to action,


34
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
and accordingly endured the savagery of his tormentor
with a patience far in excess of what he could be
depended upon to vouchsafe on other occasions. All
this, of course, the bully interpreted as evidence of fear,
and accordingly redoubled his insults. Finally, filling
his mouth with water, he came and sprayed it, as if he
were a Chinese laundryman sprinkling clothes, full in
his victim's face. With the rapidity of a released
spring, James Moreton seized him by the throat.
* Beg my pardon for that now and here,” he cried,
“or I'll pound you till you're glad to do it on your
knees!”
The rapidity of the act somewhat disconcerted the
bully. For a moment he feared he had made a mistake,
but was reassured as he noticed with what ease he was
able to remove his assailant's hands from his throat.
“Huh! What does it think it is ? " sneered the bully.
“ Say, fellers, it wants me to beg its pard'n, an'an'
this is how I do it!" and he struck the smaller lad a blow
that brought him to his knees.
In a moment all was commotion.
“ A fight! A fight!” yelled each little savage, in
gleeful anticipation, any thin film of civilisation with
which he may have been varnished quickly flaking off
and exposing to view his naked savagery.
Scarcely had James regained his feet before a ring
was formed and two score or more excited urchins were
impatiently awaiting one of the lowest and most degrad-
ing of human spectacles,—the deliberate attempt of
two individuals to inflict pain upon each other. And
this they called sport! And savages of larger pith,
both as individuals and as nations, apotheosise the bi-
ceps of power till the fetid fetich is á stench in the
nostrils of latter-day decency. An appeal to force is a
moral anachronism, a retrogression to the jungle red


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
35
in tooth and claw. Has not the human race yet reached
an adult estate?
There was a look upon Master James's face which was
a revelation to his school-fellows. Calm, rigid, and with
the almost transparent whiteness of marble, it had the
appearance of composing itself for eternity. Strange
to say, there was in his expression no indication of
malignity,—none of those facial exhibitions of his own
weakness by which one so often attempts to terrify his
adversary. You would have said, had you judged the
lad solely by his appearance, that he was contending
with some impersonal, elemental force, some inanimate
machine for which he felt neither love nor hatred,-
nothing, in fact, but a determination to subdue it to
his will. Superior weight, size, strength and reach were
all in the bully's favour, and greater than them all was
the knowledge that he had them all. When the school
bell rang, the bully, by common consent, was adjudged
victor, and there the matter was supposed to end.
A physiognomist would have noted the difference
between the two lads' countenances and it would have
meant much to him. The face of the elder boy was
livid with rage and hatred; that of the younger calm,
determined, resourceful, with a subtle something about
the bleeding lips which looked like a nascent smile.
Deep in his cowardly core the bully whispered to him-
self that he was glad it was all over, and that he had
so well maintained his reputation for superior prowess.
His victim's insensibility to pain had worried him not
a little. He could not understand how it was that
injuries which would have elicited shrieks of agony from
an ordinary boy were endured by Master James with
a placid countenance and without protest.
When the morning intermission occurred James imme-
diately sought out his adversary and, to the amazement


36
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
of his school-fellows, forced him to continue the contest.
When the school bell rang this time the “honours were
easy," and every little onlooking savage was all “ goose-
flesh," just below his thin veneer of civilisation.
At noon Master Moreton again promptly sought out
his foe and renewed the interrupted contest. On this
occasion it was clearly evident he had the best of it.
The bully was getting his brutal appetite for fighting
more than satisfied.
During the afternoon recess he received some pretty
severe punishment, and after school his fate was even
worse. To all suggestions of a truce Master Moreton
made the same reply:
“When you beg my pardon on your knees, but not
till then!”
And thus it fell out. So complete was his subjugation
that if James would threaten to attack him he would
lie down upon the ground at his feet, and, as is so often
the case, the two lads became good friends.
The dogged determination which he had displayed
in this conquest led James's schoolmates to nickname
him “ Dog” Moreton, an appellation which clung to
him with a persistency worthy itself.
Another characteristic of this lad was his conspicuous
ability as a trader. Whether he swapped a jackknife
or a jack rabbit, he invariably managed to get the
better of the bargain.
It must be admitted that Master James did not, in
these transactions of incipient commercialism, always
follow the noble precepts laid down by the sixteen
crucified Saviours of mankind, and the countless moral-
ists with which they have been interspersed.
As he grew older this spirit of commercialism took even
stronger hold upon him, and he determined to become
one of those social fungoids known as a “captain of
hen the grounecame gooch he had. nicknam


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
37
industry,” or, to speak with French accuracy, a che-
valier d'industrie.
During the elder James Moreton's residence in New
Zealand he had managed to secure a vast tract of the
tribal land of the Mohakakas,—some twenty thousand
acres or so. He had bought all this for a ridiculously
small number of axes, some fifty muskets, a little powder,
and a few figs of tobacco,-hought it despite the fact
that Maori lands were held in common by the tribe
occupying them, and that there was usually a very
strong sentiment against their sequestration. A few
years afterward, in 1861, rich deposits of gold were
discovered in New Zealand, and some of the best finds
were upon his land, which had previously been reduced
from twenty thousand to twenty-five hundred and sixty
acres.
This extraordinary shrinkage in his real estate had
occurred through a flaw in his title. In an amendment
to Governor Hobson's ordinance of June, 1841, it had
been declared that the Commissioner should recommend
no land grant in excess of twenty-five hundred and
sixty acres, unless specially authorised by the governor.
This authorisation could not be obtained, neither would
the Mohakakas refund any of the purchase price, so
that where he had bargained for twenty thousand acres,
Mr. Moreton secured something more than a tithe of
that amount. Still, considering the gold mines, even this
was not so bad a trade as it might have been.
When James Moreton, Jr., learns of these possessions
he beseeches his mother to permit him to leave school
and depart for New Zealand at once, urging upon her
that agents are of necessity dishonest, and maintain-
ing that what is needed is “ a man (sic) on the spot.”
Mrs. Moreton, while she recognises that there may be
some weight in both of these postulates, refuses to per-


38
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
· mit James to leave school, informing him that his elder
brother, Adrian, is planning to attend to the matter as
soon as he completes his education.
own of north of autiful Tahis family strong
While all this is transpiring, in thirty-nine degrees
north latitude; other events are taking place in thirty-
nine degrees south latitude which are of interest to this
narrative.
In the beautiful Maori village of Taranaki, near the
spot where Mount Egmont rears its colossal cone, lives
Tarore, daughter of Ta Pura. Her mother, who died
in her infancy, came from the Mohakakas, on the other
side of the island. Few earthly ties are stronger than
those which bind the Maori to his family, and Ta Pura
all but worships his beautiful Tarore.
Just to the north of Mount Egmont is Inglewood, a
little town of less than four hundred inhabitants, mostly
English. This is the home of little Alis Ora Leigh,
part English and part Maori, between whom and Tarore
there exists one of those strange, inexplicable bonds of
sympathy-found in history, say, every other century
—that binds together into the unity of undying affec-
tion the widest diversity of habit, of religion, and of
race.
The night that James Moreton, Jr., beseeches his
mother to allow him to go to New Zealand, and is refused
the coveted permission,-is the morning on which little
Alis Ora Leigh, on the other side of the earth, is pre-
paring to go to Taranaki to visit her beloved friend,
Tarore.
So overjoyed is the maiden in anticipation of what is
before her that she fairly dances in excess of animal
spirits. As she enters the Maori village news of her
approach quickly passes from mouth to mouth, till it
reaches a group of Maoris far down the main street.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
39
One of these calls out from the doorway of a low
structure, whose thatched roof reaches nearly to the
ground:
“ Tarore! Tarore! The little pakeha miss, he is here!
Come, quick, and meet it!”
This announcement, couched in language which exhibits
the well-known difficulty experienced by the Maori with
the English pronoun, at once brings forth a dark-
eyed, brown-skinned lass with long wavy hair, black
and silky, and a grace of carriage that would do honour
to a young princess. She casts one glance down the
village street and then, with a glad cry, bounds off like
a young gazelle. A moment later the two children are
in each other's arms, indulging in a most singular and
tumultuous greeting. Alis is exploding kisses all over
the brown face of her companion, after the manner
of the Anglo-Saxon, while the Maori maid is doing her
utmost to find a little insignificant pink nose and to
press her own against it, after the custom of her people,
for where the English osculate, the Maoris rub noses
by way of salutation.
“ Oh! but I'm so glad to see you again!” Alis exclaims
with a little impulsive squeeze. “Did you miss me when
I went away?”
“ Ah, miss you!” replies Tarore. “ The days had no
end, they only turned black at night. I could have wept,
but tears at parting are unlucky and are forbidden us,
so I could only cry inside where no one else could know,
till the savour of my soul was salt like the sea. Oh, it
was all so like eating fern-root without a kinaki. I
sent you my love every morning with the song of the
Tui, but I could not tell if you received it, so I threw
reeds, and when they all fell toward Inglewood I said:
• It is well; she has heard. She will come again and I
shall see her ! »


40
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ And here I am!” and the delighted Alis begins a
dance, so fascinating, in its childish grace, that her
companion instinctively catches its rhythm and imitates
its movements, till she remembers how dreadfully tapu
female dancing is among the Maoris. She is but twelve
years of age, scarcely more than a year Alis's senior,
yet in many ways she is as mature as an English girl
of seventeen,far more so than is her companion.
And what is the explanation of the strange affinity
existing between these two children? Is it that wonder-
ful, expressive ability of the younger child,—that per-
sonal magnetism which causes her to be a luminous,
radiant being, and is destined later to make her the
effulgent centre of many human moth-orbits ? That is
not all, much though it be. It is a long story, and the
blurring of some of its chapters spoils its continuity.
We are so prone to erase the example after the answer
is obtained, as if the solution would confess the riddle
it solved!
But see! the two friends, with arms entwined about
each other, are sauntering toward the forest.
“Oh, Tarore, I've the greatest secret!” Alis cries.
“ You'll promise you'll not tell a living soul, not even-
the birds?”
« Till the moon shows her back, I will not tell!”
responds Tarore.
“ Well, I've been promised "
But let us stop our ears and hurry away. Secrets !
Girlish secrets, flashed with the blush of the opening
bud, and breathing the old-new attar of romance, have
the sanctity of the confessional. . ... Let us not
enter a soul's temple without knocking at its door,-
and heaven forfend that, tarrying without, we should
press a profane ear to the keyhole.


EPISODE SECOND
The Marked Man





CHAPTER I
Love is the leaven of existence. Through its wondrous
alchemy the animal lump became first human, then divine, and
in the New Day, whose rosy dawn already enhalos our topmost
heads, no other measure shall there be for life but just its sum
of love.
“ PARDON me, a little more to the left,—so!” and
Elbert Reiss took the fair head gently between his
hands and slightly altered its position.
It was an entirely professional act, yet he would have
been a poor observer who had not noted the peculiar
reverence with which it was performed.
The love of men differs as men differ. Nature reaches
her goal by divers paths. In Elbert Reiss love was
a religion and beauty his greatest passion. He cared
nothing for mere comeliness when uninformed by person-
ality. To him the soul was an artist, and the body
its creation, and he judged this production precisely
as he would have judged a picture, which is to say he
looked for the personality of the artist, and if he found
it not, or, finding it, it did not please him, he pronounced
against it in so far as he was concerned.
And the young woman who was posing as his model;
did she please him? He had not dared to ask himself
the question. The blood boiled hot in his heart when
she met his gaze, and he trembled when he touched
her. Her mere presence so unnerved him that he found
himself obliged to have recourse to his mahlstick, lest
in his work his excitement should confess itself inde-
cision.
And the model? Did her sea of psychic exhalations
she . Her mered to ha
43


44
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
wash back upon her stained by the heart it had flooded?
Quien sabe? Had it, indeed, done so, its crimson ebb
and flow would very prettily have accounted for sundry
little pink waves that ever and anon overspread two
damask shores.
“ You must be tired. We will rest now for the day."
The words were commonplace enough in themselves,
but there was something in their intonation which
momentarily drove the blood from the face of the fair
model. She felt the pallor she could not see, and
hastened to ask:
"—And I shall come again ?"
“_Wednesday at the same hour, if convenient to
you. I have Romeo for to-morrow. May I send for the
dagger he is to wear?”
“I brought it with me to-day," she answered, passing
him a thin box.
“ Thank you; it was very thoughtful of you,” said
Mr. Reiss. ,
“May I look at the picture before I go?”
“ Indeed, I'd be glad if you would, and let me have
any suggestions which may occur to you," the man
replied.
“Oh, how charming!" she exclaimed. “What a
delightful sensation it is to see one's self idealised.
Indeed, sir, you have painted me as I would like to be,
rather- ”
"_Rather than as you are?” he said, voicing her
thought for her. “Ah, no; you mistake! If—if I
have changed a single detail it was unintentional and
—and the picture has suffered by it!”
The young woman glanced quickly at him and then
was silent for a long time. When at length she spoke
it was in a deep, mellow voice, so faint it could barely
carry the weight of its utterance.



“ “WE WILL REST NOW FOR THE DAY'”





THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
45
" Wednesday at two. Good-bye,” and she left the
studio.
Elbert Reiss gazed long at the door after it had
closed behind his model, as if the wood were glass and
he could see through it. Then he quickly drew the
curtain of secrecy upon his sacred canvas, lest a pro-
fane eye should see it, and seized his violin. Music was
very dear to him, and he was, withal, a conspicuously
brilliant player.
For a few moments the instrument fairly sobbed in its
exuberant eloquence of emotion; then the player paused,
the victim of his own marvellous expression, hastily
put by his violin, seized his hat and left his studio.
When he reached the sidewalk he turned to the left
and walked rapidly away. He neither knew nor cared
whither he went. How long or how far he walked he
never knew.
It was nearly dark before his slackened pace indicated
that he was returning to his normal self from far, far
afield.
He began now to notice where he was and what was
occurring about him, without realising that he him-
self was a factor of the scene.
He saw a well-dressed man upon the opposite side of
the street removing the peel from an orange as he
sauntered along and letting it fall at his feet upon the
sidewalk.
“He's one of those porcine caveat actor fellows, who
wouldn't turn his wrist to throw that into the street
if all creation slipped upon it and broke its legs,” he
muttered to himself. Then he saw a young man
emerge from a doorway, glance furtively about him
for a moment, and then begin picking up the scattered
orange-peel. Moved by curiosity, Reiss started to cross
the street.


46
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Before he had reached the other side, however, he saw
the young man slyly thrust a portion of the peel
into his mouth and the remainder into his pocket. These
acts thoroughly aroused his attention.
“My God, is it possible!” he ejaculated half audibly,
as he made directly for the doorway where the young
man stood.
“Excuse me, sir, but can you tell me what this number
is?” he asked.
The young man glanced at the doorplate.
“ Five forty-six."
“ Five forty-six! Why, I'm six hundred numbers from
where I ought to be,” said Reiss with apparent dismay.
“I say, my young friend," he continued, “ will you
pardon me if I take the liberty to ask a favour of
you?”
The young man's hand went to the bottom of his
empty pocket. The artist saw the pathetic movement,
-the more pathetic because involuntary,—but contin-
ued as if he had not noticed it. “I've a bundle of stuff
six hundred numbers farther up that I want to get over
to my rooms, and I'd be glad to pay you half a dollar
to get a lift on it. Now don't say yes, if I'm asking too
much of you, because I can do it alone if worst comes to
worst, though I feel just now decidedly fagged out.”
“My services are at your disposal,” replied the young
man with alacrity. “I shall be glad of the walk, for
I need exercise.” He glanced a moment at his patched
and threadbare clothes and then continued with some-
thing like a stifled sigh: “If you will lead on I will
follow-at a distance.”
He was now out on the sidewalk where the artist could
see him distinctly. Reiss cast one rapid, searching
glance into the young man's pinched face, and then
burned his boats behind him.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
47
“ Are you in any particular hurry?” he asked.
“None whatever; I have all the time there is.”
“ Would you mind waiting for me,” Reiss asked,
“ while I get a bite of something to eat and rest a bit ?
It will take but a few minutes, and will make a new man
of me.”
“I'll wait with pleasure; don't hurry,” and the young
man was about to return to his doorway.
“Oh! but you must come along, too, so I won't have
to come back after you. I know of a little Bohemian
place up farther, where you'll be welcome to a seat even
if you don't care to eat,” and without more ado he
took his companion's arm and led him away amid such
a conversational outburst that the kidnapped young
man, after vainly waiting for an opportunity to pro-
test, finally abandoned himself to his fate.
When Reiss and his companion were comfortably
seated in an obscure corner of the little restaurant, the
former said in an offhand manner:
“What a bore eating is! Just as a fellow begins to
feel that he's a trifle better than sheer clay, whang!
goes the clock, and he hies him off to tear flesh with
the rest of the carnivora. Tell me what to eat. I never
know what to order. I'm going to ask you to join me
for the sake of sociability. You can go through the
moves, even if you don't care to eat anything. Perhaps,
if you watch me, you may be able to scare up an appe-
tite."
“ Thank you, I think I have a tame one that I can
catch without chasing,” replied the young man, with a
wan smile. -
After the orders were given the artist said abruptly:
“ And now do you mind telling me your name? Mine
is Reiss,-Elbert Reiss,-dabbler in colour and wielder
of the mahlstick."


48
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
experijdom be the won
“ My name," the young man replied, “ is Eric Mont-
rose, and I am at present engaged in reducing my flesh
by playing a continuous performance entitled 'Tiring
Out Fate,' written by one who never did it, and played
by one who fears it can't be done,-in short, I'm an
inventor looking for capital to exploit what most peo-
ple call my own enthusiasm. The situation is not with-
out humour,-viewed from a distance. Just now I'm
so near I miss the perspective."
“Oh! Don't I know all about it, though," said Reiss.
“I wore out a dozen pairs of trousers, and as many
complete sets of good resolutions, waiting for my first
commission, and when, after long years it came, I was
relatively indifferent to it. It is one of the saddest
experiences of life that the fruits of our endeavours
can seldom be plucked till the bloom and the glame have
left them and the worm is at their heart. Year after
year I toiled and struggled, giving the public my best
of life, hope and youth, only to see them pass the offer-
ing by unnoticed. I dipped my brush in my very heart
and spread its blood upon the canvas, yet the message
found no eye, till one day a wealthy lady, whose soul
was in revolt at the toy lives led by the rich, saw and
understood. I got a commission to paint her daughter's
portrait, after which all was easy and—and I had
almost ceased to care."
When Reiss finished he noticed that his companion's
lower lip trembled, and there was a strange, misty, far-
away look in his eyes,--such a look as searches the liv-
ing past for a dead mother-but he spoke no word.
There was a long silence, and then Eric Montrose, with
the diffidence of a maiden, reached over and pressed
his companion's hand.
He felt a new inspiration. There is such a marvellous
power in the man who has keenly suffered, and who


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
49
has spelled out aright the dreadful lesson of his agony.
Mother Nature, kind in her unkindness, has sung her
secrets to him, as she rocked him in the cradle of his
pain. Yes, it may be she thought to croon him to sleep,
but what then? Is it not often better so?
O, faith of our fathers with our fathers gone! let not
the higher light show only deeper shadows! Shore up the
hope within us that by Reason's torch we yet shall
find the noblest life, assisted by the cruel ills which
path.
The artist had the satisfaction of seeing his companion
eat a tremendous meal, and of knowing that he would
have at least half a dollar to guard against hunger in
the immediate future.
It was nearing midnight before Eric left the studio.
He had found the confidant for whom he had so hun-
gered, and had unburdened himself to him. The artist
had been particularly interested in some of his inven-
tions, and had said at length, impulsively, as if the
thought had just occurred to him:
“ See here! I've an idea. There's a large back room
in there where I store things. Now, why couldn't you
come here and look after the studio for a while till we
get acquainted. Then, if we find we can live together
and keep our fingers out of each other's hair, why not
move your models and things into the back room, and
make this your headquarters? The room has a separate
entrance from the hall, and we needn't mix science and
art a bit more than we want to. You see, I need some-
one to look after things once in a while, and I fancy
you could use the small wage I should pay you. In
the meantime I might be able to interest some capital
ane to look at the small able to


50
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
for you,—stranger things have happened. What do
you say?"
Eric Montrose was in poor condition to say anything.
His funds exhausted, the rent of his little attic room
far in arrears, and all his ready assets distributed among
neighbouring pawnbrokers; out of work and threatened
with ejectment, he had felt sure that an angry fate had
at last caught him in a cul-de-sac from which there was
no escape. He reached over and seized the elder man's
hand in a trembling grasp.
“Do you think I could do it?” he asked, with touch-
ing eagerness. “I-you see—well, I- " then with
desperation—“Look at my clothes ! ” .
“ The duties would be nothing to you," said Elbert
reassuringly, “and as for the clothes, if you'll be here
to-morrow at ten we'll find a way to fix that part of it.
I think we shall get along together famously.”
And so, indeed, they did. Within a week Elbert Reiss
had sufficiently satisfied himself as to the character of
Eric Montrose to cause the inventor's few effects to be
moved into his back room, and it would have been hard
to tell which of the two was the more delighted with the
arrangement.
One afternoon, just after Eric had taken up his abode
at the studio, Elbert stood before his easel in the little
alcove, toning the background about the figure of
Juliet. Thus far he had kept this work for the most
part secret. If anyone entered the room he would
usually draw the curtains in front of his canvas before
advancing to meet him. He had been asked to give the
picture as little publicity as possible, but he had a
personal reason of his own, far stronger than this, for
the care with which he obeyed the request. One of the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
51
figures,—that of Juliet,—was so like its living proto-
type! He could almost see it breathe, and he loved to
watch it, to hide it away and to think it his, and his
only.
On the afternoon in question, however, a gentleman en-
tered and advanced directly to the easel. Reiss quickly
drew the curtains, but not in time to prevent his visitor
from getting a glimpse of the picture.
“By Jove, but that's a stunning female!” he ejacu-
lated. “Suppose you open up there and let me have
another look. A fellow doesn't see a petticoat like that
every day.”
The face of Elbert Reiss was a study. It looked as
though his innermost soul were being seared with a
white-hot iron.
“ You must pardon me, sir,” he said when his anger
had in a measure subsided, “this is private for the
present. You will doubtless have an opportunity to see
it all in good time.”
“No time is good but now," replied the other
brusquely—“ especially where a woman's concerned !
However, it's for you to say, I suppose.”
“I shall be pleased to show you any of my completed
work,” the artist said, his natural good-nature once
more reasserting itself.
“ Thanks; I know something of it already. I came
to give you a commission to paint my portrait if we can
arrange as to sittings, and he passed a card to Reiss
bearing the inscription "Mr. James Eldredge
Moreton.”
This was on Tuesday, and on Friday Mr. Moreton had
his first sitting. In painting portraits Reiss used every
endeavour to justify his subjects at their best.
It was his custom, therefore, to draw his sitter into
conversation, ascertain what themes lay nearest his


52
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
heart, and then to use the enthusiasm these topics
elicited to draw the whole man into that unity of ex-
pression so necessary to a living likeness.
It did not take Reiss long to learn that Mr. Moreton's
greatest interest centered about business. His sitter
would rise to nothing but a financial bait. The artist,
therefore, made heavy drafts upon his small store of
commercialism, and he found it quite sufficient, meagre
though it were, to awaken the enthusiasm of his sub-
ject. Truth to tell, when Mr. James Eldredge Moreton
would converse at all,—and when a business topic was
chosen,-he was more than willing to do most of the
talking.
At his second sitting Reiss found an opportunity to
tell him of Eric's inventions, and was much gratified
at the immediate interest he displayed in them, par-
ticularly in the new system of wireless telephony.
“ Tell the young man,” he said to Reiss, “ that if he
can do what you say, he need not worry about funds.
I'll take care of all that, and make him a rich man.
Tell him to call and see me at my office, 30 Broad Street,
say to-morrow at eleven, and we'll talk the matter over."
When the artist communicated this to Eric that young
gentleman was almost beside himself with excitement.
Now, after years of privation, he felt sure he was to at-
tain that success which his patient effort had so long
merited.
Alas! that he had not heard of that “ castle on the
Rhine” which an erstwhile well-known New Yorker
promised one Ottmar Mergenthaler. Unfortunate, too,
that he did not know that James Moreton's own in-
difference to bodily pain had bred in him a physical
cruelty that had long since overrun its own rim and
poured itself into the psychological domain.
The next day Eric called on Mr. Moreton, and before


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
53
the interview ended they had signed a memorandum
agreement.
One thing which particularly attracted Reiss's atten-
tion during Mr. Moreton's next visit to his studio, was
what he considered the astounding and apparently un-
conscious egotism of the man. He would refer to him-
self as “one of the ablest business men in New York ”
and descant with the utmost assurance upon the great
things he would, yet accomplish. On one occasion he
talked enthusiastically about himself and his plans for
half an hour, and ended by saying:
“ The world's ideal of a business man to-day is John
D. Rockefeller, but there is a greater one coming.
Mark the trend of affairs. The Standard Oil is
getting its iron clutch on everything. Light,
heat, transportation, food, banks, trust companies,
insurance companies, public utilities: they are all
in its hands. It controls the mines and rail-
roads; the legislatures and the colleges; the bureau of
statistics and the press; the courts and the central
government. It poisons the child in the primary school
with little, sugar-coated pellets marked 'patriotism'
and, attaining to Caligula's wish, clutches its fingers
around the one throat of humanity. What a magnifi-
cent power! And all the result of simply knowing how
to corrupt men! I always feel like taking off my hat
when this monopoly is mentioned. I tell you, the
Standard Oil is winding itself, like a huge python, about
the waist of the human race, and when it gets ready for
the final squeeze there'll not be a whole bone left. In
the meantime, keep your eye peeled and watch 30 Broad
Street," and he winked ponderously at the puzzled artist,
as he continued, holding up the forefinger of his left
hand and shaking it to and fro: “ If, in the near
future, the centre of gravity of the financial world
the waist of the winding ito mentioned taking


54 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
doesn't shift from 26 Broadway to 30 Broad Street,
James Eldredge Moreton is no prophet!”
This was one of Mr. Moreton's talkative days. On
one or two occasions he had appeared depressed,-even
morose, and had resisted every effort to draw him into
conversation. At such times Reiss had found what he
could to do upon unimportant details, and had brought
the sitting to an end as soon as possible.
“I say, Eric,” said Reiss, after one of Moreton's
talkative visits, “our capitalistic friend has a deal of
self-confidence, hasn't he? The joke of it all is that
those who know Mr. Moreton best come nearest to en-
dorsing his own estimate of himself.-You saw that fine-
Jooking lady in here yesterday afternoon? Well, that
was Mrs. Moreton. I'll tell you about her some time-
perhaps. Do you know, every time Moreton has been here
he has tried to see my Romeo and Juliet? I refused him
point-blank at our first meeting, and he didn't like it in
the least. I'm told that it is a boast of his that he never
permits himself to fail in whatever he undertakes. This
is why his friends have nicknamed him 'Dog 'Moreton,
I suppose.—Well, we shall see. To-morrow I finish his
portrait, and if he expects to see the big canvas in spite
of me,ếhe will make the attempt then.”
A seer could not have prophesied better. After the
sitting was finished and Mr. Moreton was apparently
about to leave, he stepped back toward the curtained
alcove, as if to take a final look at his own portrait.
Reiss laid down his palette, arose, and stood beside him,
to all appearances much interested in contemplating
his own work.
“ By the way, Mr. Reiss," said Mr. Moreton with an
engaging smile, “ you have never yet told me the name
of the model who posed for that stunning figure you hide
so carefully.”
pro empt the big


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 55
e
“ Felix Maguire,” replied the artist with a trace of
impatience.
“Ah! Thank you,” Moreton rejoined. "I should
have been more explicit. My interest was in the fe-
male—incomprehensible as it may seem. What is her
name?”
The artist looked him fixedly in the eyes and said
firmly:
“ I do not care to tell you, sir!"
“ Then surely you must let me look!” and with a
single backward step James Moreton seized the curtains
and tore them open. The movement was performed with
extreme rapidity, yet it was not so quick but that, at its
completion, Moreton found the athletic young artist
between himself and the canvas, which was back toward
him. Reiss, his phlegmatic German blood now
thoroughly up, his arms folded across his powerful
chest, and his eyes narrowed to a mere slit of serpentine
fire, was a formidable obstacle to overcome. In an in-
stant he had been metamorphosed from a polished
gentleman to a Gothic savage whose hand would rise
red from where it fell. A kind instinct told James
Moreton that, despite all he could do, it would fall if
he took one step more.
While the men stood thus at gaze the studio door
opened and the model entered. Reiss, who was back
to her and concealed by the alcove, held his position.
Moreton, however, advanced a step, bowed affably to the
young lady, and said:
“ Whom shall I say?"
“ Miss Sherwood, if you please," replied the young
lady.
“ Mr. Reiss, Miss Sherwood is here,” said Moreton
with a sarcastic exaggeration of politeness which tore
the artist's sensibilities as a saw tears flesh. “I find


56
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
this much the better picture! Good-afternoon, sir!"
he said from the doorway. “Good-afternoon, Miss
Sherwood! I am charmed to have met you. You will
forgive me, I know, for expressing the hope that I may
see you again,” and he shot a mocking and defiant
glance at the glowering artist.
If the cold, green, withering look which replied to that
glance had been duly matched with venom, that shot
had been James Moreton's last.


CHAPTER II
If photometry best measures lights by the shadows they cast,
why should we not gauge men by the enemies they make?
THOSE who have read “The Darrow Enigma ” will not
be surprised to learn that Mr. George Maitland's con-
duct of that case attracted such wide attention that he
soon found his services in great demand. It is true
that most of the propositions put before him were such
as he did not care to entertain, since the duties of an
ordinary detective were anything but congenial to him.
He is primarily a scientist and is possessed of that rarest
of all brain-types known as the “generalising intellect.”
Intricate problems have ever an unflagging interest for
him, while those of easy solution, or requiring only
painstaking attention to step-by-step details, do not in
The least attract him, that he left Boston him which at
Thus did it happen that he left Boston and came to
New York. A case had been put before him which at
once excited his imagination and fastened his attention.
A young man, who previously had always lived in
Washington, had recently gone into business in New
York. He had so prospered that in an incredibly short
time he was accounted rich, and numbered as one of the
youngest and most promising captains of industry in
the Metropolis.
In the meantime he had married a fascinating young
woman for whom he had made a most vigorous compe-
tition. He was now about twenty-six years of age,
and had for several months, he wrote Maitland, been
the recipient of letters threatening his life, each of which
informed him that he was, to quote its exact phrase, “ a
57


58
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
marked man.” He volunteered the information that,
under ordinary circumstances, he should attach no im-
portance to these threats, but that, since his father
had been mysteriously assassinated more than a quarter
of a century before by men who, at the same time, had
frightened his mother into a silence in the matter which
nothing could induce her to break, and, too, on account
of the further fact that the letters made no specific de-
mands upon him and did not, therefore, attempt to levy
blackmail, he felt warranted in using every endeavour to
ferret out their source.
Maitland, of course, did not learn all these facts from
the gentleman himself, but got many of them through
certain friends of the young magnate who were obliging
enough to exhibit some of the more interesting bones of
his family skeleton. Though there are many of us
whose anatomical closets are too scantily equipped to
make a really interesting display, there are none so poor
as to lack a willing exhibitor.
Had the case been an ordinary one Maitland would have
declined to interest himself in it, but the fact that it
had a perspective extending back a quarter of a cen-
tury, and that the threatening letters were not mere
bungling attempts at blackmail, lifted the affair so far
out of the commonplace that it fascinated him. He ac-
cordingly replied to the young magnate's letter as
follows:
“ Boston, July 12th, 19%.
“Dear Sir: I beg to acknowledge receipt of your favour of the
11th inst.
“If agreeable to you I shall do myself the honour to wait upon
you at your office this Thursday at 2 P. M. We can then discuss
matters more at length.
“In the meantime, I remain “Very truly yours,
“ GEORGE MAITLAND.
“Mr. James Eldredge Moreton,
“ Johnston Bldg., No. 30 Broad Street,
“New York, N. Y.”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
59
In accordance with this appointment Maitland duly
waited upon Mr. Moreton and ended by interesting him-
self in his case.
At first George engaged temporary accommodations in
New York, being loath to leave Boston, but eventually
he permanently established himself there, since he found
that he could prosecute his scientific labours as well there
as anywhere. His life-work was scientific research.
He embraced Mr. Moreton's offer because it interested
him in the first place, and, in the second place, because
he badly needed a radical change of thought.
By the latter part of July the Maitlands were com-
fortably settled in New York.
Mr. James Moreton marvelled not a little at the way
in which Maitland conducted his case. At their second
interview George had said to him:
“I shall wish you to prepare for me, with the utmost
care, three lists of names with the accompanying ad-
dresses, as follows: first, a list of all your friends ;
second, a list of your enemies, including any who, in
your opinion, might profit should ill befall you; third,
a list of all such acquaintances as you cannot readily
classify under either of the other two lists. I need
not, of course, tell you that if you expect me to serve
you to any purpose, you must give me your unqualified
confidence, which, I trust, I need hardly add will be con-
sidered sacred.”
This Mr. Moreton promised to do, and when the lists
were at length prepared Maitland perused them with
great care. As might be supposed, his most immediate
interest centered in the list of enemies. The very first
name elicited from him a low whistle, and caused him to
throw the paper upon the table and relapse into deep
thought.


60
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“Mrs. Hortense Marie Moreton, No. — Fifth
Avenue, New York,” was what he had read. The ad-
dress was the same as that of his client, Mr. James
Eldredge Moreton.
When Maitland again took up the inglorious list he
felt all but certain that the woman who had been given
the questionable honour of first place was none other than
Mrs. James Moreton.
The second name was that of Mr. Elbert Reiss. Con-
sulting a directory, Maitland learned that this gentle-
man was an artist, and he determined to investigate him
first of all, for the reason that he could call on him,
ostensibly to see his pictures, without any previous in-
troduction.
He determined, if possible, to make the acquaint-
ance of every person named in the three lists until
he was thoroughly saturated with Mr. Moreton's en-
vironment..
When Maitland entered the studio of Mr. Elbert Reiss
the artist was busy in an inner room, so that the visitor
had ample opportunity to examine not only the pictures,
but also the appointments of the studio.
The work of Elbert Reiss marked him as a man of rare
versatility and depth of artistic insight. In vain did
Maitland search for those mannerisms, those little
tricks of habit, which act as name-plates to the produc-
tions of so many contemporary artists. Every canvas
was a frank confession of personality, but not of
limitation.
While he was still examining the pictures the door
opened and a young man entered. He hung his cap in
a little recess behind a curtain and advanced toward
Maitland.
“ You are waiting to see Mr. Reiss ? ” he asked.
“ To be frank,” Maitland replied, “ I have no particu-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 61
lar business with him, yet I have tarried hoping to have
the pleasure of seeing him. The man himself, you
know, is ever the larger moiety of his work.”
“ It is certainly so with Mr. Reiss !” exclaimed the
young man with such warmth that Maitland glanced
searchingly at him.
He was of medium height, rather slight of form and
with a pale and somewhat pinched face. Privation was
writ large all over him. As he had spoken his large,
brown eyes, half glazed in introspection, had broken
their encystment, and lighted enthusiastic fires in the
sombre, nocturnal depths of their shadows. His fea-
tures though not classic, were yet beautiful, and his
dominant expression was that of an ineffable eager-
ness, an almost pathetic outreaching such as one
occasionally sees in young children, and oftener in
dumb beasts.
“I see the man has charmed you even as his work has
me,” Maitland ventured..
“ Indeed he has, sir!” was the reply. “He charms
everybody. He will be out presently and then you will
see for yourself. You like the pictures?"
“Yes, very much," Maitland replied. “ The Romeo
and Juliet there, with the life-size figures, is it not
capital? There is something in the face of Juliet that
would make Romeos of us all. I have seen both Briggs's
and Ward's pictures, but their treatment of the beauti-
ful Capulet does not compare with this. The figure is
more or less ideal, I suppose?”
“On the contrary, it is true, religiously true, to life!
Elbert would not so much as change ” But he
checked himself, much to Maitland's disappointment.
After a pause he continued: “ You will soon have an
apportunity to see the lady in the character of Juliet
at a Broadway theatre.”


62
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Indeed!” exclaimed Maitland. “And her name
is "
"—A mystery just at present. It is only during
the last few days that Mr. Reiss has permitted even her
likeness to be seen. She is a star new to the American
firmament, and her manager is whetting curiosity to a
razor edge,—though not, I trust, with any intention of
shaving the public," said the young man with a faint
semblance of a smile.
“ The bearded public will not be shaved if they see a
face like that, and as for the rest, they'd never permit
it, lest they should exchange peach-bloom for side-
boards,” Maitland jocosely replied, as his eye caught
a curiously-wrought weapon half-hidden among bric-
a-brac which littered a little table in the farther corner
of the room.
“Romeo's dagger? ” he interrogated; “I think I
recognise the carving."
“Yes,” the other answered. “It was of so quaint and
romantic a pattern that Mr. Reiss painted it with the
utmost fidelity. Did you ever see anything like it?"
“ Never," said Maitland. “Do you know the signifi-
cance of these figures so carefully damascened into the
metal? They must have been meant to convey some
weighty message to have warranted such an outlay of
effort. Now, that irregular figure there by the hilt, —
it would be interesting to know what that signifies."
“ I'm afraid we'll have to await the discovery of
another Rosetta stone. Mr. Reiss has not the remotest
idea what it's all about," said the young man.—" Ah,
here he comes !”
The door to the inner room opened and a lady came
forth attired for the street. Maitland glanced care-
lessly at her, and merely noted her fine form and com-
manding presence.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 63
“ How do you do, Mrs. Moreton,” said his companion
with somewhat heightened colour, as he advanced and
gave the lady his hand.
“ Ah, Eric, I am glad to see you looking better," she
replied, shaking the proffered hand heartily.
“Eric! Mrs. Moreton !” thought Maitland to him-
self. “ I'll wager the young man is number five, and
the lady number one on my schedule! By Jove,
though!” he continued internally, “she could easily
head a more flattering list than that. A perfect type
of femininity, too! My list has some interesting reading.
If there's anything morally askew with this woman, it
will be a pretty hard blow to the favourite theory that
criminal females are always more or less masculine in
appearance, not a very flattering thought for us men,
by the way. So-called theories, however, have a fashion
of retroactively disproving their own soundness, when
they are ” But these unvoiced reflections were cut
short by the entrance of Elbert Reiss, the artist. He
followed the lady to the door and said to her as she en-
tered the hallway:
“ Friday at two?”
“ Friday at two if-if I can get away without- "
But Mr. Reiss stepped into the hall with her, and
closed the studio door so that Maitland could hear no
more. When the artist re-entered the room a moment
later Eric said to him:
“ This gentleman has been waiting to see you, Elbert,
for quite a while.”
“ Indeed! You must pardon me, sir. I did not know
anyone was here,” said the artist to Maitland with a
simplicity and directness of manner of which Maitland
immediately made mental note.
“ If the remainder of Mr. Moreton's suspects are like
the first three I have met,” he said to himself, “I think


64
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
I shall have to look for mischief among his bosom
friends,” after which unvoiced observation he said to
Mr. Reiss:
“ The apology should be mine, for I have really no ex-
cuse for this trespass other than that I have enjoyed
your personality so much in paint that I wanted to have
the pleasure of seeing it in flesh. If you will permit
me I will introduce myself.” And he handed his card
to Mr. Reiss.
“I am very pleased to make Mr. Maitland's acquaint-
ance," replied the artist, extending his hand. “ And
this is my friend, Eric Montrose; Eric, Mr. George
Maitland.—Shall we sit down and chat a bit? There,
that's better. You are fond of pictures, I see.”
“ Extremely so," Maitland replied. “Had I two lives
I should give one to art in some one of its forms."
“ And having but one, you—_?” Mr. Reiss asked
with a smile.
“I give that one to science,” George responded.
“ Indeed! That will interest Eric, for science is his .
goddess as art is mine,” the painter continued.
“I am afraid my friend will give you an inflated idea
of my small merits,” Eric hastened to say. “I'm
hardly what most people would call a scientist. I'm
only an inventor.”
“ Isn't that modest, now?" laughingly queried the
artist. “He's not a scientist, he's only the fellow who
makes the abstraction concrete. The scientists tell us
all about the propagation of electric waves without
wires. Mr. Marconi makes these waves carry dots and
dashes, while Mr. Eric Only-An-Inventor forces them
to transmit articulate speech through hundreds of miles
of unwired space.”
“Do you mean to tell me he has invented wireless
telephony? " asked Maitland excitedly.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 65
“ Precisely that.”
“Is it patented—that is—do you permit anyone to see
it?”
“Oh, certainly!” Eric replied. “A company is al-
ready formed for its exploitation. You can find out all
about it from our president, Mr. James Eldredge More
ton, No. 30 Broad Street.”
“ James Eldredge Moreton !” Maitland's exclamation
was involuntary.
“Do you know him? ” Mr. Reiss asked with more than
ordinary interest.
“But slightly, very slightly. I have met him in a
business way,” George replied.
Reiss was indeed number two, but surely Eric Mont-
rose could not be number five upon the list of enemies !
At this juncture the door opened and a young woman
stood for a moment framed by the casing. The pic-
ture was one of rare loveliness, and it required no mind-
reader to see that it deeply moved both Elbert and Eric,
though it was evident that the magic lever touched the
two personalities at different points.
The beautiful face was familiar to Maitland, but he
could not, for the moment, tell where he had seen it.
Then his eye rested on a large canvas with two figures.
This was the Juliet !


CHAPTER III
Financiers, caught without their social halos, look almost
human. Nor is it all appearance. They are even subject to
mortal frailties, though most of them can be trusted to stand
ever nobly staunch and true to what they regard as their own
interests.
WHEN Maitland returned home, after making Reiss's
acquaintance, he found a letter postmarked Boston
awaiting him. It was from his friend Dr. Edward
Willard, and ran as follows:
“MY DEAR GEORGE:—Boston is the hub of the universe!—I
fancy I hear some good New Yorker ejaculate, “The slowest part
of the whole wheel!' Here the question is,-or rather used to
be,-'What are you?' While I have heard it whispered that in
your city the formula reads, “What have you got??
“ Boston, you perhaps remember, is the home of culture-and
beans, so that for you New Yorkers not to “know beans' 'argues
yourselves unknown,' and is a badge of barbarism.
“ So much, my dear George, to get you into my atmosphere-
hem !--the atmosphere of culture,-no sir! not wind— atmos-
phere!'
“Now for my news. We are going to New York for a time. I
knew you'd be surprised. You remember that cancer of Latour's
which I was obliged to tell him could not be cured? Well, I've
been thinking of that a good deal lately, and looking the matter
up a bit. I've made up my mind thoroughly to investigate this
X-ray and Finsen-ray treatment. The former ray gets after the
'bugs, and the latter after the effects of the former. I have
already the biggest static machine I could find, and now I'm
looking for something I won't have to 'sit up nights with,'—some-
thing which won't get off its feed’ if my breath happens to
exceed the minimum limit of humidity.
“I tried to learn something at Harvard, but oh, my! they were
so ponderously non-committal that I gave it up in despair. What
an awful thing it must be to feel that your slightest word will be
taken ex cathedra! Finally, I was told that New York was the
place for me if I wanted the latest X-ray products, so, in con-
66


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
67
formity with this advice, I shall do myself the honour of visiting
you. Everybody sends much love. We-all,' as they say down
South, miss you-all’ very much.
“I haven't the slightest idea what you are doing, yet, as your
physician, I order you to quit three-quarters of it at once.
Good-bye. Look for me day after to-morrow.
“Ever yours,
“Edward WILLARD."
This letter gave Mr. and Mrs. Maitland great pleasure,
for they were both exceedingly attached to the young
physician, as well as to his wife and family.
In due time the doctor arrived, and was much
pleased, -as indeed he had good cause to be,-at the re-
ception he received.
Maitland introduced him to many of his friends, in-
cluding Elbert Reiss and Eric Montrose, with both of
which gentlemen he himself had come to be somewhat in-
timately acquainted. The doctor took a great fancy to
Eric, and became so much interested in his inventions
that he was only too glad to accept an invitation to be
present at a demonstration of wireless telephony to be
given at Mr. Moreton's office for the purpose of
interesting capital. Maitland, who saw in this an
opportunity to bring the doctor and Mr. Moreton
together, was also well pleased with the arrange-
ment.
When the time arrived for the demonstration, the
Broad Street office was full to the utmost limit of its
accommodations. Mr. Moreton was in a state of en-
thusiastic good-humour.
“ Gentlemen," he began when all who were expected had
arrived, “I have called you together this afternoon to
witness the most marvellous feat of modern science,-
telephony over long distances without the use of wires.
We have here a transmitting and receiving instrument,
which will be duly shown you, and also an exact dupli-


68
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Sochafter the deshall be pleaside of the
cate of this apparatus, in a little place I have fitted up
for demonstrations, stockholders' meetings, and the
like, over in Jersey City. Mr. Montrose's assistant is
now in charge of that instrument, which, you will please
understand, might just as well be in Boston or Chicago,
so far as results are concerned.
“ After the demonstration subscription papers will be
opened, and I shall be pleased to explain anything in
connection with the business side of the enterprise upon
which you may need further information. I have now
the pleasure of introducing to you one of the most re-
markable inventors of this or any age,-Mr. Eric Mont-
rose.”
Eric was very pale as he rose in response to this in-
troduction, and he feared for a moment that his wits
would desert him.
“Mr. Moreton has done me the honour," he began
slowly, “ to allude to my humble results as marvellous.'
In a world where everything is, in the last analysis, in-
explicable, I doubt if we can properly call one thing
more wonderful than another, though we are ever prone
to consider phenomena marvellous in just the ratio
that they lack familiar correspondences in our minds.
“ Among the laity the present telephone, so well known
to us all in its external aspects, is, in its fundamental
principles, but little understood. In order for you
justly to appreciate the invention before you, it will be
necessary for me to make what will perhaps at first im-
press you as a digression from the matter in hand.
Few, if any, great inventions are the work of any one
man. Others prepare the way for him who is to bring
the thing to a triumphant conclusion. I am not the
first to transmit speech without the aid of wires. What
I have, as I believe, been the first to accomplish, is the
perfection of a system making possible the transmission


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
69
of articulate speech without wires between points many
hundreds, possibly many thousands, of miles apart.
“ To explain the means whereby I attain this result, I
shall have first to ask your attention for a moment to the
precise nature of the problem before us. In wireless
telegraphy the message consists of a series of dots and
dashes, so that, given a wave-force capable of travelling
to, and affecting, the receiving instrument, there is, in
a word, little else to do than properly to interrupt this
wave-force. With the transmission of sound, however,
the problem is very different. Here it is not merely
enough to have an outgoing wave of force capable of
reaching the receiver; it is equally essential that the
form of that wave, if I may use the term, should ex-
actly correspond to a phonogram or 'sound-picture'
of the voice producing it. A simple illustration will
serve to make the distinction clear to you.
“ Suppose I had here, connected with the water-supply,
a hose, the nozzle of which was provided with a valve;
and suppose one of you were over on the other side
of Broad Street. Now if I were to turn on the water and
the gentleman across the way would stand the ordeal,
it would be possible for me to play a steady stream
against one of his eardrums. This would convey no
message to him; but, if he understood the Morse code,
and I turned the valve off and on with properly spaced
intervals, his ear would be smitten by long and short sec-
tions of water resulting from the alternate letting on
and shutting off of the fluid. This illustrates dot and
dash transmission. If, however, I wish to transmit not
merely dots and dashes, but the form of a spoken word,
I must not close the valve as before, but must keep the
stream more nearly continuous while, with extreme
rapidity, I so alter the valve that its volume will change
in exact conformity with the phonogram of the word


170
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
being transmitted. If I do this, the receiving tympanum
will be subjected to an undulatory current of water
which will act upon it in precisely the same way as would
the current of air were the chosen words spoken into the
ear of our imaginary assistant. This, then, is the
problem. Now for the means I employ in its solution.”
Eric paused a moment to arrange his instruments and
Mr. Moreton embraced the occasion to say:
“We shall not weary you, gentlemen, with a technical
description of this whole invention, as we have deemed
it more satisfactory to adapt this demonstration to the
layman. Those of you who wish to go into the matter
more at length will find Mr. Montrose glad to accom-
pany you after he has finished his general explanation."
“ As Mr. Moreton has said,” Eric continued, “I shall
take time to touch upon only the essential features of
my invention. I shall assume that you are more or less
familiar with wireless telegraphy,—at least with the
nature of the Herzian waves, and the construction of the
Branly coherer, which have made the Marconi system
possible. Let us begin with our transmitter. Here is
the instrument. You perceive these two balls separated
by a small gap. They are solid, highly polished, and
in all respects identical with those used in wireless teleg-
raphy. We must now force a current to traverse from
one of these balls across the gap to the other, and this
current must be actuated by the human voice, and vary
in strength in exact conformity with the form of the
sound-waves. How shall this be done? I have here a
source of electricity, and here a powerful induction coil
actuated thereby. When I close these terminals, so,
you see a continuous band of light passing between the
balls. Now it is probable, though authorities differ,
that it is not the current which actually passes between
the balls which travels outwardly through space


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 71
and affects the receiving instrument, but rather
that this discharge sets up a series of oscillations in the
balls themselves, which oscillations are propagated out-
wardly to great distances, and serve to carry the
messages. We need not, however, go deeply into this.
“ Now there are certain rays discovered by Becquerel
and know as ‘Becquerel rays, which have the singular
property of conferring upon air the power of conduct-
ing the electric current. Here is an ordinary mouth-
piece and diaphragm, and, as you see, pendant from the
centre of this diaphragm is a little receptacle containing
a powerful radio-active substance. As the diaphragm
moves, this moves, and, under the influence of the voice,
alternately approaches and recedes from the spark-gap
between the balls, thus rapidly varying the conductivity
and throwing the discharge into undulations conform-
ing to those of the transmitting diaphragm. The man-
ner of 'stepping up' this electric current, where the
distance requires it, is not new, and I need not enlarge
upon it. So much for the transmitter.
“ The receiver is even simpler to understand. This is
the instrument. It at once suggests an induction
balance and is connected to a specially constructed
wave-collector located, in this case, upon the top of the
building. This telephone receiver, made with more
than ordinary delicacy, is connected with the induction
balance, which, in its turn, is connected with the wave-
collector. We will now proceed to converse with my
assistant in Jersey City. I have signalled him. Talk
just as you would with an ordinary 'phone,” and Eric
passed the receiver to Maitland.
In this way nearly an hour was spent, to the great as-
tonishment of all present. When at length they de-
parted, after many compliments to the inventor, Mr.
James Eldredge Moreton footed up his subscription list


72
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
with evident satisfaction. All but three had subscribed,
and the treasury of The International Wireless Tele-
phone Company had at its command many thousands of
dollars as the result of the demonstration.
And the inventor? How much of this money did he
get? Not a dollar! He was impressively told how
grateful he ought to be to have his invention in such
wonderful hands, and informed, in the same breath, that
every cent of the cash thus far received was “ blood-
money."
He didn't quite know what that term meant in such
usage, but inferred he was to understand that it was
sacred to treasury uses. When he objected to this ar-
rangement Moreton said to him:
“ Now see here, Montrose. You have an invention,
a good invention,—but without money it is worthless.
Now if I make it valuable, as I propose to do, to whom
will the credit belong, you or me? Now, you want to
remember that capital can get along very well without
your invention, but your invention can't get along with-
out capital. The man with the dollar is dictator, and
you've got to do as he wants or you can't succeed. I'll
make you a rich man in good time, if you only let me.
I do things my way. I am one of the most successful
business men in New York, and I owe it to the fact that
I do things, my way. Once I adopt a course I never
swerve a hair's breadth from it, if I can possibly avoid
it. I don't go looking for easier ways. I stick right to
that course, and if obstacles are in the path, I go
through them,—not around them,—through them! In
fact, I rather like obstacles, as I like breaking horses.
They're good to keep a cutting-edge on one's will. Most
inventors are simply impossible from a business stand-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
73
hime Mr. Monill not
this
point. Nothing can convince them that their wares
have no value till capital creates it.”
It was the old, old siren song of sophistry which
capitalists have ever sung to inventors-so like that
other song, in the same key, which capital delights to
sing to labour, in the vain hope that the workman will
one day forget its anachronisms and come to believe
that the consumption of wealth antedates its creation,-
that no man could possibly ever have dug a clam with
his naked fingers, till some one else had dug one and fed
him with it!
“Mr. Moreton,” said Eric slowly, after a pause, “I
hope you will not be offended if I do not at all agree with
your reasoning in this matter. The fallacy is quite
patent. An invention can surely succeed without money,
as easily as capital can increase itself without some sort
of investment, so that if the union of invention and
capital bring good results, then they are both neces-
sary to those results in their totality. If, now, you
know your Mill, you will appreciate that where two
things are necessary to a result, one cannot be said to
be more necessary than the other."
Mr. James Eldredge Moreton made no reply, but con-
tented himself with bestowing upon the inventor an enig-
matical smile which left rather an unpleasant impres-
sion in that young man's mind.
The Captain of Industry was wondering if he had
found another whetstone for that volitional cutting-
edge to which he had so recently referred.


CHAPTER IV
In politics the law of gravitation expresses itself in expedi-
ency. In physics it makes its record in terms of weight. In
ethics it registers itself in selfishness; and, even as expediency is
the sociological toboggan-slide leading straight to governmental
perdition, so selfishness is an all-down-hill short cut to moral
Gehenna.
THE Spanish proverb reads; “ Patience and shuffle,"
but among the proverbs of Gotham this will be found to
have been Americanised into: “ Patience and hustle.”
In order for business to become an act of worship, as
has now eventuated, it was first necessary for money
to become a fetich. This has already been accom-
plished.
What wonder, then, that the strong bias of James
Moreton's nature, superimposing itself crest to crest
and trough to trough upon the noxious wave of slimy
greed beneath which Humanity's better sentiments are
at present submerged, should have cut red into the very
soul of the man–the addition of more to what was too
much already.
Relatively few things change their kind by changing
their degree. To this general consonancy, however,
penuriousness is an exception. Beyond a certain point
meanness tends ever to become dishonesty, with a power
usually not to be resisted. Men who begin by squeezing
the dollar till they perspire, are prone to end by sweat-
ing the coin itself.
Let it not be thought that James Moreton was “mean "
in the ordinary acceptation of that term. His transac-
tions had the generous proportions of the bank-robber,
74


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
75
rather than the petty narrowness of the sneak-thief.
Had it been otherwise, never could he have been known
as the most promising of all New York's young indus-
trial captains.
Extract the fifth root of that transaction which places
a halo of commercial glory about the head of your trust
magnate, and the quotient is jail. Multiply by itself a
sufficient number of times the offence of the humblest
sneak-thief, and the product is mercantile apotheosis,
social deification, a coach-and-six, purple and fine linen!
Thus we have the arithmetical evolution and involution
of latter-day financial greatness.
Into this environment James Moreton brought a gam-
bler's passion for excitement, an inexhaustible store of
energy, a determination that unsaid defeat in advance,
and, more is the pity, one of those puff-ball consciences
which constitute the chiefest factor of success in the
attainments of most of the world's heaviest financial
ordnance. He belonged to the second-childhood of
ethics, that is to say, to the first savage aspect come
again as the third estate; the dotage of morality,
wherein the filmy, myopic vision loses all distinctions of
the moral and the immoral, in the unmoral.
To him the external world was but the photosphere of
his own radiant self. If he took that to which another
had a prior claim and a better right, he did it in the
spirit of other industrial captains, not because he wished
the rightful owner any harm, but simply because he
desired that owner's effects for his own use. In this he
was not wantonly cruel. Had it been necessary for him
to sacrifice life in the blowing up of a competitive pipe-
line, he would doubtless have used a charge which would
have made death as speedy and painless as possible,
from which it will be seen that even the Kings of Mam-
mon are not without a sense of tenderness for their
hane, he woulike in the el; Had


176
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
humble subjects. A crown may produce pressure upon
the brain, but, thank God, it leaves the heart free!
The tall, mellow-chimed clock in the corner of Mr.
Moreton's office was just about to strike three. Near
by, the Stock Exchange was approaching the closing
hour. To the uninitiated, standing in the gallery and
looking down upon the busy floor below, the ever-shift-
ing kaleidoscope of excitement and greed would have
looked like the wild scurryings of some gigantic ant-
hill into which a megapod had stepped, or like a lunatic
asylum in the throes of a nightmare. Well might such
an observer have said with Burke, “ What shadows we
are, and what shadows we pursue!”
And yet this was a quiet day. The market was ex-
ceptionally dull, and the gambling lacked that razor-
edge of fierceness which seems ever seeking competitive
jugulars. James Moreton thought he had never seen
the Exchange so hopelessly stupid.
“I am going back to the office," he said to a fellow-
member, “ and have a game of solitaire for excitement.
Why don't Wall Street and the banks go in like men and
knife the widow and the orphan, if they want to, and
have it over with, instead of squeezing the blood out of
them a drop at a time, and making the Exchange as
infernal a bore as poker without a stake? I tell you,
it's getting too dead slow for me," at the end of which
remark the clock in his office in the Johnston Building
struck three, and the Exchange closed with the last
stroke, as if it had been only waiting for that particu-
lar signal.
Five minutes later James Moreton entered his office.
He was in one of his depressed moods. Excitement was
to him as the breath of air in his nostrils, and things
ow and tead of making stake?


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 177
up a pally to fall day. He thcome to the
had seemed very dull to him, of late. He lived only
through the pleasure he derived from the chase, and
what chase could there be when affairs slackened pace to
a mere purposeless saunter?
He picked up a paper and tried to get interested in the
financial column, only to find that he had read it all in
the morning, discussed it all day, and found it at last
too vapid to merit consideration. He threw down the
paper with the air of a man who has just come to a sud-
den determination, arose, took his hat and cane, and went
out upon Broadway. He turned his back upon the
Battery and walked rapidly along with the true Metro-
politan look in his eyes. If there were anyone else on
Broadway that afternoon, he gave no evidence of being
conscious of it.
Well up Broadway, where the eagle on the dollar so far
forgets itself as to preen its feathers,—thereabouts
where Mistress Commercialism brightens her attire and
assumes a solicitous smile, stands a fine theatre, which is
here called “The Odeon” for no better reason than that
that is not its real name. Its manager's identity is
similarly lost in the pseudonym, “ William Wilkes.”
Messrs. Moreton and Wilkes were very good friends.
They had first met—but there! Both men have excel-
lent wives—at all events they are so considered—and ex-
cellent women should not wantonly be pained.
The pranks of some men make capital drummers'
stories whose dénouements are lost in loud guffaws, but,
somehow, when told to the little woman in the glare of the
fireside they seem to lose their uproarious humour.
What, think you, can be the matter with her risibilities?
See, she weeps, not laughs! Ah! bathos and pathos, in
fact as in name, are all but coalescent. The one gravi-
tates into the other as vocalisation dies into aspira-
tion. The little woman, God bless her !is too near


78
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
the facts, and her conscience doesn't turn lining out with
true masculine facility. And these men? We need only
say that they are selfish, if we are wise enough to know
that selfishness is the psychological name for hell.
James Moreton stood long in the entrance of “ The
Odeon” gazing at a large picture of Romeo and
Juliet. Never before had mere paint seemed to him so
like a confession of heaven.
On Monday the star would make her first appearance
first, at all events, in America—and it was already Fri-
day. After a little she would be going away to shed
upon others the light of her countenance—wondrous
even upon canvas ! -At the thought the muscles of
James Moreton's jaws hardened, and he grasped his
cane convulsively.
It was with reluctance that he finally tore himself away
from the fascinating picture and made his way to the
office of his managerial friend.
“I say, Will,” he began, as soon as they had passed
the time of day, “ that's a stunning picture you've got
out there. What's the prospect? Is the dear public
rising to the bait?”
“ It's coming fine," replied Mr. Wilkes. “ I'm 'most
afraid I'll have to cut it open to get the hook back.”
“ How about the star? Do you feel sure of her?”
asked Moreton with keen interest.
“Sure of her!” ejaculated the manager. “Young
man, you'd better go back and take another squint at
that picture. Why, bless your buttons ! if that young
woman just came out and said “Fee, faw, fum,' and
then smiled, all New York would go daft. You don't
appear to appreciate the quality of these goods. Sure
of her! Whew!” and he looked pityingly at his com-
panion.
A feeling of pride took possession of Moreton as his


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
79
friend sounded the praises of the star, as if the beauti-
ful young woman were already his, and he stood full
in the blaze of her effulgence—the lord of the con-
queress!
“I referred more particularly to her histrionic ability,"
Moreton rejoined. “I was thinking of the critics."
“Histrionic fiddlesticks!” exclaimed Mr. Wilkes
lightly. “ Critics, indeed! I say, Jim, have you lived
all these years to think the public takes the critic
seriously? Why, bless your buttons, man! when
criticisms on any topic show a general agreement, it's
because they were written with a gold pen. You didn't
know that, eh? No, I s'pose not. Mary Anderson-or
rather she that was Mary Anderson before she took up
with the nobility-hit it about right when she said
she'd take the box-office for her critic. Now, as for
histrionic ability, my boy, this young woman is a
winner,' I tell you!”
“ I say, Wilkes, where on earth did you pick her up?"
asked Moreton.
“ Ex-cuse me!” said the wily Wilkes, as with his fore-
finger he pulled down the lower lid of his left eye.
“ Just now that's a state secret, but you needn't let it
worry you, for I don't mind telling you there are no
more like her where she came from. Nope; I took the
last.—Perhaps you'd like to tell me how low you're going
to bear the stock I'm interested in.”
“Oh, hang your stock!” retorted Moreton.
“Yaas; mebbe that's the only way it can be elevated
so's the bears can't reach it,” drawled Wilkes with pro-
voking serenity, as he enjoyed his companion's im-
patience.
“ Come now, old man,” said Moreton ; “ cut that out.
You know you can trust me. Where's she from? "
"From heaven, I should say, judging by appearances,"


80 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
and William Wilkes looked at his visitor with mock
solemnity.
“ By Jove! I'll take that as her address,” retorted
Moreton, with more earnestness than he was wont to ex-
press-a fact which caused the manager to bestow upon
him a rapid, sidelong glance.
“So do. What a beastly pity you'll never be able to
attend any of her at-homes, old man,” drawled Wilkes
with grotesque sympathy.
“ Misery likes company, and I shall have yours, my
boy,” Moreton retorted. “Now I have a favour to ask,
and you know what that means.”
“ In algebra they call it an equation,” laughed the
manager.
. “I'll make it better'n that if you succeed,” his com-
panion replied. “I want to give Miss Sherwood and
her friends a little supper at the Waldorf after her first
performance. Say a dozen plates. There would be
Miss Sherwood, you and me, and any nine other friends
she might care to invite. Can you arrange it for me?"
“ Any champagne?"
“ Enough to float you!”
“ Consider the affair settled," and William Wilkes ex-
tended his hand by way of a seal to the compact.
“ And she'll be there?” asked Moreton doubtfully.
“If not, I'll go home sober,” returned Wilkes jocosely.
“ Then it is indeed settled,” said Moreton, seizing the
proffered hand. “And now, good-bye. Remember,
Monday night," and he left the manager's office.
The next morning at the rehearsal Mr. Wilkes broached
the matter of the invitation to Miss Sherwood. Her
first impulse was to decline it, but she finally yielded to
the persuasions of her manager when he said:
“You are a stranger here, and we ought to lose no op-
portunity to make friends with our public. This More-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
81
ton is a man of great wealth and financial influence-a
good man for any manager to interest in his produc-
tions."
“I should indeed be ungrateful if I forgot all you have
done in my behalf, or needlessly stood in the way of your
reaping the fullest possible returns therefor,” she said
slowly. “There is something—but never mind I will
accept the invitation for myself and nine friends. You
may say so for me,” and she at once determined
that a certain queenly young married woman, whom she
had met at. Mr. Reiss's studio, should be the first of the
nine to be invited.
The advent of a new and radiant luminary in the
dramatic firmament constitutes a social epoch in the
city in which it takes place. Add to this the complete
mystery which enshrouded the name of Marion Sher-
wood,—for William Wilkes had done his work well,-.
and one may readily realise the ferment in the golden
kettle of the upper ten.
William Wilkes handled this seemingly impossible
gentry with the tender deftness of an entomologist
transfixing a rare butterfly, and his method expressed
itself chiefly in terms of secrecy. He was one of those
silent linguists,-one of those dumb polyglots who can
hold their tongues in forty different languages, and
the result was, that whether New York had plucked the
new star from Taurus or from Ursa Major, even Wall
Street, with all its knowledge of bulls and bears, was
powerless to decide.
Thus the interest in Miss Sherwood grew daily keener,
and daily Manager Wilkes felt its edge at the box-
office with ever-increasing satisfaction. When at length
he ordered up from its subterranean depths the “Stand-


82
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
ing-Room-Only” sign, he drew a long breath and felt
that all was well. Monday night came at last.
“ The Odeon ” was packed almost to suffocation-and,
as usual, the fire regulations were openly disregarded.
George Maitland was an ardent admirer of Shake-
speare. He had seen many Juliets in his time, and was
all impatience at the prospect of adding another to his
list. His friend, Dr. Willard, had asked him which one
of all the Juliets he had seen he thought truest to
Shakespeare, and he had replied:
“ Ah, Ned, that is a hard question to answer. I found
much in all of the portrayals to delight me,-yet they
were very, very different. Of them all I think I can
truthfully say one thing, namely, they were all Anglo-
Saxon Juliets,—at least they so impressed me, though
I was rather young when I saw Neilson.”
Just as the orchestra was beginning to play, Mr. and
Mrs. George Maitland, Dr. and Mrs. Edward Willard,
Mrs. James Eldredge Moreton and Messrs. Elbert Reiss
and Eric Montrose, entered the auditorium and seated
themselves together upon the left side of the house, a
few rows from the stage. Mr. James Eldredge Moreton
was already in the centre of the front row close to the
musicians. He did not see the party as it entered;
neither were they aware of his presence at the time.
When the orchestra was “flashed off” a wave of sup-
pressed excitement swept over the house from pit to
gallery. It seemed as if all held their breath. What
was this Juliet like? How old was she? Was she as
beautiful as her picture promised? Whence did she
come? Could she really act? Were her costumes
actually the marvels report asserted?
These were the questions which hung tremulously
upon Marion Sherwood's first appearance, and when the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
83
great audience at last caught sight of her, it burst, as
with one accord, into tumultuous applause. For a
moment the actress seemed quite taken aback, as if she
were entirely at a loss to understand what she had done
to merit such an ovation.
Before she had spoken a line Maitland whispered to
Dr. Willard, “ An Italian at last !”
As the play progressed the audience came more and
more to realise that they were in the presence of his-
trionic genius, and they gave vent to their enthusiasm
in no uncertain language.
After the “ potion scene” she was called again and
again before the curtain, and was presented with sev-
eral floral offerings, one of which was an enormous
bouquet of white roses bearing in its spotless conceal-
ment the card of Mr. James Eldredge Moreton.
And the gentleman himself ? He watched the beauti-
ful Capulet like one under an irresistible spell. There
was, in the intensity of his earnestness, that cat-like
presage of a spring which seemed to add teeth and claws
to his admiration.
When Juliet spoke the lines,
“O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust and let me die,”
the expression upon the face of James Moreton, as she
stabbed herself and fell, was startling in the extreme.
In it chaos strove strenuously for mastery. The fea-
tures shifted in wave-like pulses, like to a pool of water
smitten by a sudden gust of wind. When, with an
almost superhuman effort, he finally regained a measure
of expressive self-control, his countenance was ashen-
pale and his features drawn and set, particularly about
the boldly-chiselled jaw.
And he had met this young woman but twice, and was,


84
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
moreover, the husband of a young, beautiful and
accomplished wife, who, at that very moment was watch-
ing him narrowly through a pair of opera glasses,
which did not miss so much as the tremor of an eyelash.
When the final curtain fell, the audience arose like
a single organism and called loudly for the star. Miss
Sherwood, true artist that she was, felt much averse to
disillusioning her audience by appearing alive before
them so soon after the death of Juliet.
The applause had assumed that measured, rhythmic
beat, the meaning of which professionals know so well,
when Manager Wilkes drew back the curtain for the
passage of the star. For fully three minutes there
reigned a perfect pandemonium of applause, and, in
the very front and centre of it all, like a pivotal demon,
stood James Eldredge Moreton comporting himself
for all the world as if he were on the Stock Exchange
frantically attempting to “smash ” some “ gilt-edged”
industrial.
passned a perfand centre Moreton the Stock Fizedged
mished suited the couch. The talk to
In a sumptuously furnished suite in the Waldorf-
Astoria Mr. James Moreton awaited the arrival of his
guests with what patience he could command. The table,
spread in the inner of the two rooms, was entirely to
his satisfaction. A profusion of flowers marked the
place of the principal guest directly opposite that of
the host. Mr. Moreton thought, with a delicious thrill
of anticipation, that he would be looking directly at her
all the time, while she-she could not help seeing him
every time she looked up. There would be others pres-
ent, of course, but what of that? Wilkes was all right,
and, as for the rest, he neither knew nor cared who
they might be,—at least, so he told himself, and
straightway he heard them coming along the hall.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 85
wife would he upon Elbert D duplicated
“ This way, this way, ladies and gentlemen—damna-
tion!”—(this latter under his breath)—“ come right in.
Delighted, I'm sure ! Marie,” he continued, addressing
his wife with a suavity the full meaning of which she
alone understood, “ will you kindly show the ladies
where to put their wraps," and he indicated the place
reserved for them with a careless gesture of the hand,
while he bestowed a covert, green flash upon the placid
Mrs. Moreton, the which he duplicated a moment later
as his eye fell upon Elbert Reiss.
He would have much preferred that these two, his
wife and the artist, had been supping together at Del-
monico's, or The Black Cat, yes, or enjoying table
d'hote à la diable in perdition, for that matter.
It is not necessary for the purposes of this narrative
to detail all the events of the banquet. Suffice it to say,
that with Marion Sherwood, Mr. and Mrs. Maitland,
Dr. and Mrs. Willard, Mr. and Mrs. Moreton,-the
“ and” being here a disjunctive conjunction,-William
Wilkes, Elbert Reiss, Eric Montrose and two members
of Miss Sherwood's company, the two hours spent at
table passed quickly enough. Toast followed toast till
the effect of the champagne on those who pledged full
measure upon each occasion was more than doubt-
fully manifest. Both Messrs. Moreton and Wilkes were
in a state of exhilaration bordering upon ebullition.
Not that they were intoxicated; indeed, it is doubtful
if Mr. Moreton had ever permitted himself to get into
such a condition, but that he was visibly excited by the
potent fluid he who ran could easily have seen.
It was near the end of the banquet; Elbert Reiss, who
had managed, much to his host's disgust, to seat himself
at the right of Miss Sherwood, was conversing with that
young lady in a subdued tone, to which she had every
appearance of giving her undivided attention.


86
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Breatheroperly with t seems to
: “I cannot tell you,” he said, “how much I enjoyed
your performance. It seems to me that no one can play
Juliet properly without she be possessed of real tragic
greatness, and for the young woman so endowed a
grave peril lurks in this wondrous poem, for it is almost
as like a poem as it is like a drama.”
“ And that danger is ? ” she asked.
“ That she shall fail to subordinate the tragic to the
beautiful,—that she shall fall into Garrick's error when
he sought to repair what he fondly believed to be a
blunder on Shakespeare's part,” he replied.
“ That were indeed a pity,” she said softly. “ It
seems to me the pathos of the piece is merely intended
to give an added depth, a sense of solidity, as it were,
to its incomparable beauty.”
“ Ah, you are right, I am sure! It is a sort of third
dimension, adding weight to form,” he said enthusias-
tically. “If you will pardon me, I would like to con-
gratulate you upon your voice.—I have heard but one
other like it, and—and I shall never forget either hers
or yours !”
She leaned slightly toward him and asked softly, with
tremulous interest, as a momentary pallor, plainly vis-
ible to her keenly observant host, overspread her face:
“ And this lady—this other?”
“ She was the daughter of Burgermeister Lang of
Ober-Ammergau, the ‘Mary' of the Passion Play when
I saw it in 1890. I should have thought- "
But at this point James Moreton, who had missed no
word of all that had passed, broke into the midst of the
artist's sentence.
“I give you a toast!” he cried, raising aloft his glass.
“ Here's to the fairest- "
But Elbert Reiss would not brook the affront. He
raised his voice slightly and continued:


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
87
“ I should have thought when you read the lines,
“O happy dagger!
This is thy sheath; there rust and
his hurl the glo next to himrose and
But he did not finish. With an inarticulate guttural
James Moreton sprang to his feet. His face and neck
were a deep crimson, and he seemed the very incarnation
of frenzied rage. The glass of champagne was still in
his hand. He drew his arm quickly back and was about
to hurl the glass violently into Reiss's face when Mait-
land, who was next to him, seized his outstretched arm.
Mrs. Moreton quickly arose and went to her husband.
She was very pale. Everyone had now arisen.
With laboured utterance, as if every word tore itself
through the quick of sensation, the restrained man said,
with a ghastly attempt at a smile:
“1-beg-your-pardon, ladies—and gentlemen. Pray
-be seated-all.”
But the festive flame had charred to a gloomy snuff,
and the little party almost immediately broke up.
Ill-feeling is a bad sauce for hospitality.


CHAPTER V
Hell, like heaven, is a condition of mind, and jealousy is its
other name.
The business at “ The Odeon ” exceeded the most san-
guine hopes of William Wilkes. From New York he sent
his company to Philadelphia, after which they were to
play Baltimore, Washington and Richmond, working
back again to New York via. Charleston, Cincinnati,
Columbus, Cleveland, Buffalo, Rochester and Albany.
When Miss Sherwood left New York it seemed to
James Moreton as if the sun had ceased to shine. He
was desperately in love with the fascinating Juliet, and
he felt-well, if ever you have watched a beloved being
carry away your soul, and realised that she would not
bring it back for many a weary week—perhaps never-
you know just how he felt; and if, on the other hand,
you have no such tender legend on some well-thumbed
page of your heart's history, words, in however so
graphic a collocation, could not convey to you his expe-
rience. The void left in his life by Miss Sherwood's
departure grew daily to a greater ache.
There are but few things in this life for which he
cared at all, but these few desires, like Aaron's serpent,
swallowed all the rest, and acquired thereby a strength
proportionate to their excessive nutriment. One of the
peculiarities of this young man was his inability to deny
himself anything which he really coveted, in conso-
nance with which characteristic we find him attending
three performances in Philadelphia the very first week
of Miss Sherwood's engagement there.
Just how he learned that Elbert Reiss was there also,
88


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
89
and engaged upon a portrait of Miss Sherwood to be
hung in the foyer of “ The Odeon,” will probably never
be known. Suffice it to say he ascertained it in some
way, and it seemed to turn his very soul green side out.
He was morally certain it was merely a ruse on the
artist's part to enable him to see the actress daily. A
tantalising spirit of prophecy whispered to him that
Reiss would piece out the work so as to follow her from
city to city. Oh, that miserable certainty, born of the
knowledge of what we ourselves would do in like cir-
cumstance! Moreton was perfectly well aware of Elbert
Reiss's passion, and he did not make the mistake of
thinking him an insignificant rival.
“It's a game where tricks count,” he had said to him-
self on more than one occasion, and the thing which now
tore his patience into very rags was the fact that his
opponent had secured the lead, and held a suit God only
knew how long!
It was in this state of mind that his physician found
him on the morning after his aforesaid third visit to
Philadelphia.
Henry Forsythe Carew, M. D., was a man of wide
influence and most excellent practice. With no shield
or buckler other than his own rare and well-equipped
intelligence, he had on several well-known occasions
fought Death to a standstill single-handed when older
campaigners in the medical ranks had dropped their
lances and ignominiously fled to the cover of their
reputations.
Had he not been esteemed one of the very best doctors
in New York he would never have been consulted by Mr.
Moreton; for that young man considered himself quite
worthy of the best of everything, on the one hand, while,
on the other hand, he thought it “good business ” to be
known as the patron of excellence.


90
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Dr. Carew had formerly lived in Washington, and he
and James Moreton had been school-fellows there, and
later classmates at college, though, truth to tell, this
acquaintance had nothing whatever to do with Mr.
Moreton's subsequent employment of the physician, for
this commercial young man prided himself on his ability
to keep every vestige of sentiment out of business.
“ There is no friendship in business,” was a phrase
which could be found at any time just back of his teeth.
Dr. Carew had not intended to make a professional
visit. He had called on business of his own, but he
detected a restlessness, a lack of focus, in his client's
manner which seemed to him to warrant a word of warn-
ing. Of course, he did not so much as dream what was
the cause of the trouble. If any being on earth could
look the “ green-eyed monster” out of countenance
without so much as the tremor of a lid, that individual,
he would have said, was Mr. James Eldredge Moreton.
“I did not come to give you médical advice," he said,
“but I tell you that you must immediately let up on this
feverish existence, else I'll not be responsible.”
“ Feverish existence! My God!” ejaculated Moreton.
“For deliberation just coming to a standstill my life is
nonpareil. Feverish indeed! Why, Henry! time crawls
over me like a slothful slug on the nether side
of an ivy leaf. I am not living. Life is a breasting of
the waves; an overcoming of the tides ; a baffling of the
counter-currents; a sailing triumphantly, in spite of
all obstacles, in the very teeth of the wind; not the lazy
drift of a tethered bark accumulating barnacles! I am
dying of ennui! Oh, for one hour of excitement! This
accursed boredom is rotting my brain—it is, for a fact,
-you needn't look incredulous,—I can feel it here,”
and he placed his right hand at the back of his
head.
that se l’ll not be rejaculated Monife is


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
91
A long-drawn“ H-m-m!” was all the answer the doctor
vouchsafed for some moments; then he said quickly,
matching eyes with his patient:
“ James, what is it?"
Mr. Moreton was taken a bit off his guard, as the
other had intended. The blood mounted momentarily
to his normally pallid face, and then the red wave rolled
back and covered its path with ashes. His gaze, how-
ever, remained firm and unflinching.
“Never mind causes ; let us confine ourselves to results,
or say, if you must have a history of my condition, that
I am afraid I stand to lose that for which I would barter
my very soul,” he said, with an impulsiveness utterly
foreign to his nature. “I must have something to
divert my mind, some excitement "
" I have it !” exclaimed his companion. “ Just the
thing for you. Most exciting pursuits are dispersive
and disorganising, but this is just the reverse. You
have only to go to your club ”
“ Ye gods! Would the man send me to the grave to
increase my vitality?” Moreton interrupted. “ 'Club,'
a splendid name, if they'd but make it plural. There'd
be some reason, then, for every member being a stick.
But come ! come ! come! Out with it! My heavens, man!
must I get a laryngoscope and go inside for it?”
“Now, pray calm yourself,” said Dr. Carew depreca-
tingly. “Every time you lose your self-control but
makes it the harder for you to retain it, on the next
occasion. There! Now I can tell you that the diversion
I would recommend to you is a game in which at college
you showed great skill,—the game of chess.”
6. Good king of cats'! Chess! Why, that's jack-
straws to draw-poker without a limit, and any kind of
poker-even Old Poker-is sleep itself compared with
the gambling of the Stock Exchange. Chess! Ha, ha!”


92
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
and he laughed a short, bitter, cynical laugh, the sound
of which did not please Dr. Carew. “If you had
advised me to hold up a train and get a sheriff's posse
hot on my trail, that would be something like! Now
there's the murderer, Calstro, out there in Indiana,
he's getting excitement. I'd change places with him
for the half of a sweated rap! Think of it! Police
and detectives on every side, and he, expecting as the
fellow said, that every moment will be his next, matching
his wits against the whole “ bunch, outwitting them all,
and working with every sort of clever crookedness,
steadily toward the seaboard, just as a squirrel in a
field, when pursued by a cat, runs a course as jagged
as lightning, every elbow of which, however, brings it
a bit nearer the coveted stonewall. Now, that's excite-
ment! I'd like that! I say, Henry, suppose I make
· 'way with you, and then have a run for it with the police?
Wouldn't that be sport,-for me, at least? I'll bet
you I'd fool them! What do you say? Is't a go? "
and again he laughed that little, hard, niggardly, stac-
cato laugh that was no's good to hear.
“ James !” and the doctor spoke severely; “ I beseech
you, banish such thoughts forever from your mind, now
and here. They will do you no good, and may much
harm. If the greed of commercialism has had this effect
upon you, let me urge you for your own sake, as well
as for that of others, to abjure business altogether,
and "
“ And enter the ministry!” laughed Moreton. “No,
Henry, it won't do. I'm here to see the game out, and
you must help me over this 'bunch. If you won't give
me the excitement I need, you must at least take away
my craving for it. You must- "
“ No, James, no! Not that!” exclaimed Dr. Carew.
“ But I say yes !” and James Moreton looked him


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
93
full in the face. “It won't be the first time I've had it,
you know.”
“ Alas, no!” said the doctor with deep emotion. “I
did what I thought best on that first occasion, but I
now see the mistake I made, and I tell you, once
for all, James, I will never, never repeat that error
again!”
Dr. Carew's fine face was very pale as he said this,
and determination was writ large in every feature. His
companion looked at him steadily, in fact fairly looked
him out of countenance. When the doctor's eyes
dropped Moreton said:
“ Let us talk of other things," and forthwith he
returned to the same theme.
“You remember I once did you a service when we were
in college together. I have always thought you appreci-
ated that. Well, now I want a lift. If I knew the
ingredients of that mixture I'd get it myself without
troubling you, but I don't, so you must prepare it
for me.”
“ But have I not said "
6_We have all said things which our friends do well
to refuse to accept as final,” Moreton interrupted.
“ You and I know each other well, or at least we used
to,—and I think we can afford to be entirely candid,
can we not?"
“Yes ? ” said the doctor, putting his declaration in
interrogative form.
He noted, with some surprise, the external change
which had come over his companion, but he did not miss
the suppressed excitement underneath it all.
“It's struck in like measles,” he said to himself, " and
that's worse than before.”
“You would not wish me to repent the good turn I
did you, would you?” asked Moreton.
for not have I not caid things » Moreton least we us


94
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“No! No, indeed!” exclaimed the doctor in a tone
that left no doubt of its entire sincerity.
“It's only to help me over this 'bunch, you know ;-
to give me a chance to pull myself together. Shall I
send to your office for it after lunch, or will you send it
to me here?”
“ James "
6—There is no other question. Here or there?” and
the young financier gave him an impatient and somewhat
unpleasant look.
“I will bring it here, but I shall do so against my
best judgment, and you must not forget that you took
this affair into your own hands, as you are always so
prone to do.”
“ You spoke of some business,” suggested Moreton.
“ It can wait,” the other replied.
6 You will be here directly after lunch? ”
66 Directly after lunch. Good-morning," and Dr.
Carew left the office in rather a depressed state of mind,
if appearances were to be trusted. Physicians are wont
to have their advice sought with solicitude, and fol-
lowed with accuracy, hence it were but natural that
the very unusual course pursued by his patient
should somewhat nettle the good doctor. Then, too,
it is not altogether pleasant to have old favours thrown
in one's face, especially after one has ceased to need
helpful consideration. It must be admitted, also, that
James Moreton and Henry Carew were men who had
but little in common. The former was a type of the
baldest commercialism,—the latter, a man of wide
sympathies and tender emotions; the one hopelessly
egoistic, the other decidedly altruistic. Dr. Carew was
beloved wherever he was intimately known, and many
a poor woman without means to buy even food, to say
nothing of medicine, had, after one of his visits, found


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
95
his bill, in the shape of a closely folded ten-dollar note,
hidden under some article upon her table, and had blessed
him ever after. His early acquaintance with James
Moreton was not the result of any propinquity of dis-
position, or community of thought, but was rather the
outgrowth of purely accidental relations. The driving
of badly mismated pairs is one of Dame Nature's oldest
solecisms.
Something like a month after the interview just nar-
rated George Maitland sat with James Moreton in that
gentleman's office. George had called to see him some
half-dozen times of late, only to be told on each occasion:
“Mr. Moreton has not been in to-day, sir.”
At last, however, persistence had been rewarded.
Maitland and Moreton had been talking for a long
time about the persons whose names composed the three
lists the latter had furnished, when Maitland said
abruptly:
“ Did it ever occur to you, Mr. Moreton, that these
threatening letters might be merely intended to worry
you, or perhaps to force you to conceal your identity by
a change of residence?”
“ I have, indeed, thought of it as a possibility, but it
does not impress me as being at all likely," he replied.
“ But what other motive can you even imagine?”
George asked. “ Take this, for example,” and he took
a letter from a little pile of papers before him on the
table and read:
“Philadelphia, Dec. 20, 19–
“ 'Mr. JAMES MORETON,
“10th Floor, Johnston Bldg.,
“New York City.
“Sir: The hour approaches. Your doom is sealed. An army
of detectives could not save you. Compose your wicked soul,
repent your sins, and prepare to die. Escape is impossible.
You are a marked man!
“ “ NEMESIS.'


96 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“Now what can you make of that? You see the fellow
knows you have employed a detective,—at least he seems
to,-yet he thinks this office is on the tenth floor. It
doesn't look, you see, much as if he had followed you
very closely. Now can't you think of someone who
wishes you to leave New York,—someone who would be
a gainer were you to go away?" .
“Oh, yes! There are several who could manage their
affairs much more to their liking if James Eldredge
Moreton would obligingly decamp. Just now the bulls
on the Exchange would bellow themselves hoarse if I
and my bears would go into concealment and hibernate
for a few weeks. Then there is a fair lady—but there!
that is for you to find out, if you have not already done
so.—The part of that letter which to my mind negatives
all your suspicions you have not read.”
“ Indeed?” said Maitland. “And what is that?”
Mr. Moreton took up the letter and pointed to what
seemed a blot of ink near the signature. It
was like this, only somewhat larger:
“ Did you not notice that?” he asked.
“ What, that accidental blot?”
“ It is not a blot-neither is it accidental," said
Moreton.
“ Now that I search it closely, the edges do look a
bit hard and set,” rejoined Maitland, placing a magni-
fying glass over the blackened area. “ As I live!” he
exclaimed. “The outlines were carefully traced with a
pen and were subsequently filled in with ink. Truly,
a most singular proceeding!”
“ Now look at this letter from Washington. Is
not that the same hieroglyph? I marvel that you did
not notice that the same character is upon every letter
I have shown you."
“I think almost anyone," said Maitland, “would call


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
97
it a blot of ink, and let it go at that. Of course, when
we note that the shape is the same in all cases, and that
it occurs in the letters printed upon a typewriter, as
well as in those written with a pen, we at once per-
ceive that it is the result of design, rather than of
accident. Does it not look to you as if someone were
trying not only to alarm, but to mystify you,—to keep
your mind stirred up, your attention diverted from your
more serious concerns,-by this hieroglyph? You do
not, of course, attach any meaning to this cabalistic
daub?"
“On the contrary, I do,” replied Moreton with unmis-
takable assurance. “ There is a weapon in the police
archives at Washington which has this same figure
damascened into its blade. I have never seen it but
once, but here is a cut of it,” and he spread before
Maitland an age-yellowed and much-worn newspaper
clipping. George glanced at the picture and then
said:
“ And this dagger is "
But something in Moreton's manner caused him to
pause and look the young man in the face. He was
strangely moved, and his countenance wore that same,
unforgettable look which Maitland had noted at the
death of Juliet on the night of Miss Sherwood's debut,
and yet again a few hours later at the banquet.
“ It is the weapon—which-killed my-father!” he
said, with such an effort at self-control as was painful
to witness.
“ Indeed!” exclaimed Maitland. “I see now why you
attach such importance to this cabalistic figure. But
look at it from all sides. Can you not see that it all
makes toward my theory that these threats are merely
idle attempts to worry and mystify you? Here is this
hieroglyph in every letter, and it now appears that


98
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
the same figure had some connection with your sad
bereavement many years ago. Naturally, your first
thought is that those who slew your father, or their
agents, now menace you. But look at it a moment.
Were such actually the case, would they be obliging
enough to notify you in advance, on the one hand, and
on the other to identify themselves as your father's
assassins by this heiroglyph? I say they,' because
this article states conclusively that at least two men
were concerned in your father's murder. No, I think
you may rest easy in one of two beliefs. Either the
writer of these letters,—for I see no evidence that they
are the work of more than one person,-except possibly
the diversity in the handwriting, which does not impress
me as conclusive,—either this writer, I say, is crazy, or
he, or she, as the case may be, is writing these missives
for the purpose of annoying you, and perhaps with the
hope of driving you from New York. The letters do
not seem to me to be the work of a disordered mind, for
reasons which you yourself have doubtless divined.
What, then, is left? This: they were probably written
by someone who either enjoys, or otherwise profits by,
your discomfort.”
“But the hieroglyph, you are forgetting that!” ex-
claimed Mr. Moreton in a tone in which Maitland
thought he detected a shade of disgust.
“On the contrary, no," George replied. That all
makes toward my theory. This peculiar figure was pub-
lished in the papers at the time of your father's death.
Thousands of people saw it. Its use in these letters
merely shows that the missives emanate from someone
acquainted with that much, at least, of your family's
tragic experience, and who is disposed to make the most
· of it. Can you not see it in this light?”
“I had not thought of it in that way before,” More- .


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
99
ton replied. “ Perhaps you are right after all.—Let
us hope so, at all events.”
The words were fairly compliant to Maitland's views,
but that gentleman was sure he detected something in
the tone in which they were uttered which indicated
a firm adherence, on Mr. Moreton's part, to his original
belief.
“If you please,” Maitland said, “I will take these
letters with me. I would like to exatnine them more
carefully," and he arose to go.
When Maitland had left the office his client sat motion-
less for several minutes, immersed in thought. And
George would not have felt flattered had he known what
was passing through the mind of this young captain
of industry.
“ And this is their wonderful detective!” he exclaimed
in half-audible disgust. “He took the mysterious fig-
ure for an ink-blot, and did not even notice, until I
called his attention to it, that the same character
occurred in the same portion of each letter. Huh! I
could do better than that, myself! And he thinks he
has made me believe someone is merely playing a prac-
tical joke upon me. Bah!”
Yet in every particular of his critique this astute
young man was in error. Never for a moment had
Maitland mistaken the inexplicable figure for an ink-
blot. He had perceived at the very first glance the
hardness of its outline, and had remarked the abrased
surface of the interior, where the pen-point had rough-
ened the wet paper, in laying the flat tone. Neither had
he fallen into any of those errors which he had thought
best to allow the young financier to impute to him.
George Maitland had his own method of conducting
a case.


CHAPTER VI
The so-called weakness of woman is but another kind of
strength. In the divided household, conjugal palmistry ably
opposes to the thenar eminence of the husband's hand the more
potent little finger of his wife's. It is a case of power versus
subtlety, and, upon rare occasions, of power against subtlety and
power:
“I WISH once more, Marie, to try to arrive at an
amicable settlement of our differences.”
The speaker was Mr. James Eldredge Moreton, and
the person addressed, Mrs. Hortense Marie Moreton,
who had just been summoned into her husband's
presence.
A soft-coal fire smoked and smouldered in the study
grate, and the chilly atmosphere seemed to lend a cut-
ting-edge to the gloom and the darkness which per-
vaded the sumptuously furnished apartment. One could
have told, without leaving the room, that it was a
mansion-study intended to narcotise, rather than stim-
ulate, thought.
The lady advanced slowly to the fire and seated her-
self by it, but vouchsafed no word of reply. The man,
in order to enliven the fire,—or possibly to revive his
all-but-forgotten gallantry toward this woman,-seized
the poker, and kneeling before the grate, made vicious
little rapier-like jabs at the blackening embers, while
he awaited with what patience he could command the
reply of the stately woman before him. Did he remem-
ber the time,—not long since,—when his very soul was
on its knees before this beautiful woman? Probably not.
The masculine brain has but a thin memory for such
details.
100


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
101
“ We have discussed this all many times before, James,"
Irs. Moreton said at length, “ and I do not find that
I have anything to add to what I have already said.
If you have something new to offer, I will listen in
patience, though the subject is naturally a painful one,
—to me at least.”
The words were uttered in a soft, velvety voice, full
of a subtle pathos, as if their breath raised the corner
of a shroud under which something very dear lay dead.
The most captious ear would have caught no note of
anger or resentment. When she had finished she
awaited, with hands loosely folded in her lap, her lord's
reply, and king, indeed, should he have been, if appear-
ances are trustworthy, for the woman looked every
inch a queen. Her rich, olive skin, her lustrous eyes,
and her wealth of dark hair added to her regal pose,
and those subtle, elusory evidences of dignity, which
seem to form a sort of intangible astral body to true
womanhood, gave her the appearance of a Zenobia in
modern gown and coiffure.
There was a suggestion of diffidence in the man's
manner as he began to speak.
“ You know, Marie,” he said, “ that our relations are
becoming daily more strained, and—well—I have made
up my mind that we had better part, once for all.”
He paused for her reply, but she remained silent, and
he was forced to continue somewhat awkwardly.
“I am willing to do the right thing, you know, and
give,—that is, if you will do as I want,—and give you
enough to-to handsomely maintain you.”
Again he waited for her to say something which should
make his task easier, but again she remained patiently
silent, and he was forced to renew the subject unaided.
“I should wish you to leave New York, and—and you
would, I think, probably prefer to do so, as you would


102 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
most likely feel somewhat sensitive regarding the pub-
licity. Of course, in a locality where you are not known
this feeling would not be a factor in the matter. You
see, I desire a complete separation, and
“—Say, rather, you wish your freedom,” quietly
replied the woman, speaking now where he least ex-
pected it.
“Put it that way, if you prefer," he said with a slight
inclination of the head. "I wish my freedom. If you
will assist me, I can get it more quickly, and with far
less annoyance to both of us. If you contest my suit,
I shall still accomplish my purpose, but through means
most unpleasant to both of us-particularly to you."
“ And your proposition is ?”
“ That I sue for divorce."
“ Upon what grounds ? "
“ That you have been untrue to your marriage vows."
“ And you would name as co-respondent?”
“Elbert Reiss."
It was with a visible effort that the woman continued:
“ And if I consent-if I do not contest?"
“Five thousand a year for life.”
A shade swept over the pale and rigid face. He noted
it and thought it an ill omen.
“ And if I refuse?”
“ I shall prove my case and you will get nothing,
nothing but the shame of being dragged through a
filthy court.”
“ And you would have me acknowledge an offence of
which I am innocent?”
“ It is merely a business proposition. I am not to
blame that idiots make our laws. You say I want my
freedom; very good. How am I to get it? By proving
you faithless."
“ But I am not, and .you know it!”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
103
6 Very likely, but I can prove it, nevertheless, and that
is quite sufficient.”
“What! You tell me you can prove such a falsehood
as that?”
“ Nothing easier, I assure you. It is the truth which
is hard to prove in a court of—“justice,'—I believe
they call it.”
“ And if I refuse you will adopt this infamous
course?”
“ The law, which has been defined as “Common sense
made mandatory,' and as 'Beneficence acting by rule'!
leaves me, I regret to say, no alternative. I am its
creature, and must attain my ends in compliance with
its dictates.”
“ And you would perjure yourself? You "
"—Nothing of the sort. I should merely summon as
witnesses those who could—and would-prove your
guilt."
The woman arose and the man did likewise. She made
her way with slow grace to the door. Her husband
followed her part of the distance.
“May I not have your decision now?” he asked.
She turned and looked him squarely and calmly in the
face for a long time before she answered. It seemed to
him as if her eyes sank to the depths of his soul, like
pebbles in a pool, and he felt abashed at what he feared
their flaming brilliance might discover.
“ As well now as any time," she replied in a low,
firm voice, the meaning of which he knew full well.
“ You, who should be my natural protector, have asked
me to become a party to the defamation of my own
character. You have offered to purchase the good name
of your wife that you may throw it, like a bone, to the
wolf-pack of scandal. You wish your freedom, not
because your marriage vows have ever been permitted


104 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
to curtail what you would call your liberty' but
because the woman you now covet has, unlike most of
your attractions, some respect for the ordinary con-
ventionalities of society.-I understand, you see. You,
to whom I should be able to fly for refuge from the
slightest breath of calumny, constitute yourself my
gravest menace-my most imminent peril. As if you
were my czar, instead of my husband, you have handed
me your ultimatum, and have asked for an immediate
reply.”
She paused as if to afford him an opportunity to
speak, should he desire it, but he held his peace. Every
syllable his wife uttered cut him like a knife. There
was neither anger nor indignation in her tone. He could
have borne that easily, but back of this calm, deep,
level utterance, as dispassionate as the Last Judgment,
he felt an unutterable depth of loathing which shat-
tered that self-respect which is the soul's looking-glass,
as a stone shivers a mirror. With all his self-suffi-
ciency he felt himself shrivelling in her august presence.
A telepathic instinct told him that this woman regarded
him as a loathsome reptile upon whose head she would
promptly have set her heel but for a sickening aversion
to contact with a thing so leprously unclean. He mar- ,
shalled the last vassal of his courage,-and it was no
mean retinue,—to receive the answer of the one being
he had ever met whose superior temper could turn the
edge of his own damascene will.
Doom has no aftermath; hence its shadows precede it.
“ And now this ultimatum,” continued the woman,
with measured calmness. “ Unless I consent, my good
name is to be taken from me through hired perjury,
and my disgrace is to be blazoned forth to all the world.
This, then, is my answer: For you and your proposi-
tion I have no characterisation that I dare trust to


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
105
words. I will speak later in deeds. For the rest, I have
only to say that I shall defeat your wishes,—and pre-
vent your divorce. I can prove all the particulars of
that all-night political rally' which you attended on
the third of last March,—and that, too, without resort
to perjury. I shall, of course, suffer greatly in the
opinion others have of me, but were I to succumb to
intimidation I should suffer in my own opinion of
myself, which is infinitely worse. I know with whom I
have to deal,—that the struggle will be to the death.
So be it! I make my choice now and here. I shall ask
no quarter, and you will give none."
“ You are making the mistake of your life!” he almost
shouted. “ You will lose both yourself and your cause!
I will make you regret your decision to your dying
day!”
She advanced a step nearer to him and looked him
squarely in the eyes. The faintest semblance of a smile
played about her pale lips as she replied, still holding
his gaze enmeshed in hers:
“ Has Hortense Merriam so changed in becoming Mrs.
Moreton?—I do not wish to hand back your threats,
for I have none to offer you, but I will make you this
prophecy:"_and her face was the face of Sichel's
Medea—" you will never live to get that divorce. Good-
night!” and she turned and left the apartment.
The prediction struck the man with set claws which
held fast in his conviction,- yet it altered not his course
“ in the estimation of a hair."


CHAPTER VII
“ The Inexplicable " is a favourite alias of “The Unexplained.”
The assumption that what we cannot understand cannot be under-
stood comes easy to us, for the simple reason that the wish plays
father to the thought, and “saves the face " of our vanity.
The curious hieroglyph to which James Moreton fondly
believed Maitland attached but little or no importance
produced such a ferment in this latter gentleman's
mind that he could not get the matter even momentarily
out of his thoughts. He felt, yet for the life of him
he could not have told why, that he was engaged in what
was to prove the most singular and interesting case
which had ever come to his attention. The more he
thought upon the subject the deeper grew this con-
viction within him.
As a young man he had read law and had during his
residence in Boston been admitted to the bar. He now
determined immediately to take steps to put himself
upon a similar legal footing in New York,-a result
in achieving which he found no difficulty.
Almost as soon as he had taken charge of Mr. More-
ton's case he had gotten himself appointed as a special
officer, so that he now considered himself ready, as far
as might be,—for what the enemy had in store for him.
To say that he had formed any definite theory in regard
to the Moreton case would be to misrepresent the facts.
He had acquainted himself with all the persons named
in the three lists furnished him, only to find himself
much more attracted to Mr. Moreton's supposed enemies
than to those whom that gentleman regarded as his
friends.
106


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 107
He said on one occasion, while discussing the matter
with Dr. Willard:
“I tell you what, Doc, the cream of my New York
acquaintance is on Moreton's blacklist. If I were
to edit these three lists of enemies, doubtfuls and
friends, the first thing I should do would be to head
them respectively, “The Elect,” “The Unregenerate,
and · The Damned.'”
“Yes, I have received several other threatening letters
since I gave you the last,” said Moreton. “Here is
one from Columbus, Ohio, and here another from
Buffalo,” and he handed them to Maitland. “There is
the same old hieroglyph, you see.”
“Have you any theory as to how it happens," Mait-
land asked, “ that so many of these letters,-partic-
ularly those more recently received,-show by their
postmarks that they were mailed in different cities ?-
I mean, of course, have you any idea why they should
be so mailed?”
“ No, unless to impress me with the futility of attempt-
ing to catch this troublesome flea,” said Moreton
lightly. “ Perhaps he thinks to make me believe I am
the victim of a wide-spread organisation. You see the
signatures are all different, and also the handwriting
where a pen was used. Would not that be a plausible
explanation? Of course, the fellow may be travelling
about, and may simply be consulting his own conven-
ience. You see, I have adopted your theory that it is
all merely an attempt to annoy me, without any inten-
tion of inflicting any direct bodily injury.”
“Ah, I am glad to hear that !” exclaimed Maitland.
“It will be much better for your health and comfort
to regard the whole affair in that light.”
“ Indeed, I have found it so already," said Moreton


108 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
at first that beginning to omstrike me assas
with much earnestness. “I do not believe anyone who
knows me would call me a coward, yet I must confess
that the conviction that around every corner, and in
the depth of every shadow, might lurk assassins, watch-
ing their opportunity to strike me as they did my
father, was beginning to unnerve me a bit. I felt sure
at first that these letters were the result of that desire,
so common to self-constituted avengers, to let their
victim know whence came the blow that struck him. To
kill, without first disclosing their identity, would seem
to them like eating the shell and throwing away the
meat of vengeance.
“I knew this and was unduly influenced by it, till I
asked myself why an elaborately bungling attempt
should be made, ostensibly to inform me of my enemy's
identity, while, at the same time, the means chosen for
conveying this information were such as would more
likely than not be entirely misunderstood. Why, in
short, a painstaking and laborious ambiguity, instead
of an easy and simple certainty? Then I thought of
what you had said, and the absurdity of my former
fears was borne in upon me with renewed vigour.”
“Indeed, I think your reasoning does you much
credit,” Maitland replied. “I will keep these letters
with the others, if you don't mind. In the meantime we
will not relax our vigilance."
“ By the way, to change the subject," said Moreton,
“I have to go over to Jersey City this afternoon; why
not come along with me? Of course, I can't explain our
device to the last gasp as its inventor can, but I'll do
what I can for you in that line.”
“I'd be delighted to go,” said George.
“ All right; excuse me a moment. I've only to call up
a party on the 'phone, and to tell Mr. Bertram where
I can be found if needed, and then I'll be with you.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
109
There's a morning paper,” and he left the room, to
return again almost immediately. “Now we'll be off,"
he said, and with this remark they left the office en route
for Jersey City.
When they reached the Jersey terminal of the ferry
Moreton said:
“Our telephone station is a good two miles from here.
If you don't feel like taking the walk, we can get a car
here which will carry us within a short distance of our
destination. I hate cars, they seem so slow and poky,
so I usually walk when I come alone. Not that I make
as good time as the cars, but it gives me a sense of
being busy.”
“I would very much prefer to walk," Maitland replied.
“ The air is clear and cold, and it is just beginning to
snow. Nothing suits me better than to be out in a
whirling snow-storm.”
“ All right, then, walk it is,” Moreton rejoined, lead-
ing off at a good pace. “This is our road. Don't
hesitate to tell me if I go too fast for you. It seems
to me as if the score of my existence were marked with
but the one direction, “ Allegro molto,' repeated at every
line. Hurry is my natural state,—a whirlwind my
habitat. Do you believe in a literal hell? Ordinarily,
of course, I don't, but there are times when I feel so like
it that I can't, for the life of me, doubt its existence.-
I think this is a ragtime' age, anyway. Everybody
seems striving to work in a redundant beat which God
never intended should jig the reasonable into the
ridiculous.”
“I heartily endorse that sentiment !” exclaimed Mait-
land earnestly. “We swallow life so fast we cannot
taste it.”
James Moreton gave a little shiver by way of reply.


110 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
It was almost dark and snowing rapidly when the two
men turned down a side street which had the appearance
of having been reclaimed from the sea. The few age-
discoloured, decrepit and ramshackle buildings which
defaced the street at wide intervals trembled at the bite
of winter like decayed tushes loose in the jaws of a
hag.
“I suppose you wonder why I chose such an out-of-
the-way place as this for our New Jersey headquarters,"
said Moreton in a half-apologetic tone. “I had a good
reason for it, I assure you. I suppose that every man
has ideals of some sort or other; at any rate I have
mine, and I fully believe that the finest specimen of
clear-cut, cold-blooded business the world has thus far
produced is John D. Rockefeller. They may talk about
their “good-enough Morgans' till Russell Sage takes
a summer outing, but my slogan is "good-enough-
Rockefeller. It was in emulation of Standard-Oil
methods that I located over here. You know, I dare say,
how the Standard used to hold its stockholders' meet-
ings in an all but inaccessible loft, where the share-
holders were unable to find it? Well, that is
precisely the scheme I am adopting. What's good
enough for Rockefeller's good enough for me. It's a
great nuisance to have every two-cent shareholder
coming around nosing into your business at every meet-
ing, and the Standard and I have known occasions
where it would have been even worse than inconvenient.
Ha! Ha! The widows and orphans will have a run
for their money finding us here, eh? ” and Mr. James
Eldredge Moreton seemed more than pleased with his
commercial astuteness.
“I say- "
But Mr. Moreton did not complete the sentence!
Two men sprang from the shadow of one of the tumble-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
111
down sheds and assailed him. The athletic young
financier instantly throttled the smaller of his two as-
sailants, and, for a moment, it seemed as if he would
make short work of him. All this, however, quickly
changed when the larger ruffian seized Moreton from be-
hind and raised aloft a dagger to plunge it in his back.
So quickly was it done that Maitland had barely time
to seize the would be assassin's descending arm. This
burly individual seemed quite taken aback at this sud-
den interference. With some sort of an oath, uttered
in a language which Maitland did not understand, he
promptly released his hold of Moreton in order that he
might bestow his entire attention upon Maitland.
The struggle over the weapon was short and terrific,
and ended by Maitland forcing his combatant to drop
into the snow. Then the nature of the conflict changed,
and the larger man assumed the offensive with great
vigour. He tore himself free from Maitland's grasp and
with a quick spring seized him by the throat with such
adroitness that it was impossible to elude his grasp. As
the muscular fingers of both his hands closed about his
windpipe Maitland felt sure that his hour had come.
Under the stimulus of approaching death all his facul-
ties preternaturally quickened. Nothing seemed too
small, too insignificant, to attract his attention.
He observed how his assailant held him with bent
arms, and he made the mental note that this man was no
novice in the gentle art” of garroting. In vain
did George strive to induce him to straighten his arms,
so that he might break one of them by a sharp, upward
blow beneath the elbow.—He was apparently guarding
against just such treatment. The bent position of the
larger man's arms brought the combatants' faces close
together, and Maitland noted, even in the fading light,
the dark, swarthy skin of his antagonist, and his heavy,
didice in the made the mental lant held him


112 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
protruding jaw,-clean-shaven, like the thin, tightly
drawn lips above it,-in all its ugliness. He even noted
a peculiar odour, but could not remember that he had
ever smelled anything like it before. Then he began to
realise that, despite his assailant's grip, he was able to
get some breath, else he could not have smelled any-
thing.
Glancing momentarily downward, some marks upon the
back of the hands which held him attracted his at-
tention. More careful inspection assured Maitland that
they were designs tattooed into the skin. One figure in
particular fastened itself upon his mind, and caused him
to give such a start as attracted his assailant's notice.
It was upon the back of the left hand, and was the self-
same hieroglyph he had found in all the threatening
letters, and had seen upon Romeo's dagger.
Such an effect did this astounding discovery produce
upon him that, for the moment, he forgot his own
danger in contemplation of its tremendous significance,
and even half relaxed his hold upon his antagonist's
wrists. A tightening of the fingers about his throat,
however, brought him quickly to himself, and caused
him to make renewed efforts to escape. The whole
struggle had not lasted a minute, yet already he felt
himself growing weak and dizzy from the partial
strangulation, and knew that he should soon fall unless
he could loosen the grasp about his throat. Summon-
ing all his strength he quickly bent his body away from
his assailant and, swinging his right leg with his utmost
vigour, he drove his knee viciously into the larger man's
abdomen. A groan followed the sickening thud: then
the hands left Maitland's throat, and his assailant stag-
gered as if about to fall, but succeeded in keeping his
feet, much to Maitland's surprise, for he had expected
his blow would be all but fatal.
er in conte relaxed of the finge himself


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
113
he fugitive sive chate taken by down this " pamhen,
For a moment the burly ruffian stood irresolutely, as if
undecided whether or not to renew his attack. When,
however, he noted that Moreton had put his “ pal” to
flight, he turned and ran heavily down the street in a
direction opposite that taken by his accomplice.
“Come, let's give chase!” cried Moreton.
The fugitive had a very considerable start of his pur-
suers, yet it soon became evident that he would be
quickly overtaken. Several passers-by, attracted by
Moreton's cry of “ Stop him! Stop him!” joined in the
chase, and the result seemed a foregone conclusion,
when suddenly the fugitive vaulted a high board fence,
and struck diagonally across a vacant lot toward a
little shanty standing by itself upon the farther corner.
Moreton and Maitland, who had followed a “ leader"
on more than one occasion before, quickly jumped the
fence and continued the chase, but the less athletic
pursuers had to “ boost” and pull each other over. It
was snowing hard and, had the fugitive been able to put
any considerable distance between himself and his pur-
suers, they would have been unable to see him. Inas-
much, however, as he had plunged into a vacant lot
where the new-fallen snow was virgin, it would even
then have been physically impossible for him to conceal
his whereabouts. Moreton and Maitland could not have
been a hundred feet behind him when he reached the
little shanty, plunged through its narrow entrance, and
slammed the door to behind him. Maitland heard the
bolt slip, and wondered if the fellow expected to stand a
siege.
“There-now-we've got him!” exclaimed Moreton,
panting from his exertion.
“ This is the only door," said Maitland," and there is
but the one window here at this corner. I will stand
here where I can command both it and the door. If we
they woulez distance bethe Fugiti


114 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
station a man at each of the other three corners no one
can possibly leave the place unobserved."
They promptly acted upon this suggestion, and posted
sentries at the corners with instructions to shout should
any attempt to escape be made within their field of
vision. Then Moreton beat upon the door and called
loudly:
“Here, you! open up there!”
No answer rewarding his efforts, he renewed his de-
mand with added emphasis.
“I say, there! Open this door, and be d— d quick
about it. Do you hear?”
“What's all this fuss about? " came in a thin voice
through the closed door.
“It's about done, my fine assassin!” replied Moreton,
sarcastically.
“Go away! Leave me in peace!” came from within.
“ Dear me, we've “jugged' an anchorite!” said More-
ton to the bystanders, “ only he doesn't know that 'De-
part in peace’ is the usual formula.”
“We'll leave you in pieces if we don't get you pretty
quick," he shouted at the door.
“ What business have you with me?"
“Cut it out,' we're not babes in arms! Open the
door, I say!”
“ And I say, friend, depart in peace, while there is still
nothing to regret.”
“ Now by all the gods at once! did anyone ever hear
the like of that? Once more, will you open that door?”
“ Certainly, friend, if you can give me any good reason
for doing itient Moreton was affairs to
For a moment Moreton was too disgusted to reply, and
Maitland utilised the lull in affairs to send a boy for an
officer.
“ You know why we want the door opened, you cant-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
115
ing hypocrite. Your friend' loves you so he wants
to fall upon your neck—and break it! Is that reason
enough?
The only reply which this question elicited was the
following, sung in a thin, high-pitched whining nasal:
“ There are angels a-hov'rin' 'round; there are angels a-hov 'rin'
'round.»
This was too much for Moreton's overtaxed patience.
“Stand away!” he said, to those gathered about the
doorway, as he stepped back a few yards; “ I'm going
to pay that psalm-singing hypocrite a visit, right now,"
and he gathered himself up for a rush at the door.
“Wait a moment!” shouted Maitland from his post
near the corner.
“Let us be patient and do the job in regular form. I've
an idea that what you propose doing is exactly what our
captive wants, and that before you could pick yourself
up, he would succeed in doing to you that which he has
already once failed to accomplish; however, be that as
it may, there is no reason why we should take any un-
necessary chances. I wear the badge of a special
officer, yet I have preferred to send for a regular police-
man, since I could do so just as well as not. He will
soon be here, and I advise, if there be any breaking and
entering necessary, that we let him do it.”
“I suppose that's good counsel,” said Moreton with
some reluctance, “but I would like to jump into the
middle of that sweet song. However, I'll wait, as you
suggest.”
The officer soon arrived and the whole affair was care-
fully detailed to him.
“ Are you sure he went in here?” he asked.
“ Absolutely," replied Maitland. “We were close to
him and saw him when he entered. You can see by the


116
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
trail in the snow that he came right here. There are
no foot-prints anywhere in the field except those that
lead straight to this shanty.”
“ Are you sure you can identify your man? ” asked
the officer.
“Yes, among a thousand,” Maitland replied. “He's
too big to mistake easily, and I'd know his jaw among a
million.”
“ All right, then we'll make him come out,” and the
policeman went to the door, upon which he knocked im-
periously. There was no response.
• Open in the name of the law !” he shouted.
" What do you want? " came in the same thin voice
from within.
“We want you. Will you open the door?”
“Yes, I'll open it, but I'm not the man you're after."
“ If you're not, he's there with you,” shouted More-
ton.
“ There is no one here but me,” came from within.
“Open till we see for ourselves ! " demanded the officer.
The bolts were slowly drawn and the door opened
about a handbreadth. The officer pressed his shoulder
against it and walked in. Maitland and Moreton
promptly followed him. There was but the one room,
and this gave abundant evidence of the pitiable squalor
of its occupant. There was scarcely any furniture,
apart from a little, low, cylindrical cast-iron stove which
stood in the right farther corner, and a cot, littered with
rags, which extended along the back wall of the apart-
ment with its foot to the little stove. Old boxes did
duty for chairs, and a tall packing-case served as a
table. There was no floor, much less carpet upon the
room. Not even a loose board protected the foot from
direct contact with the cold, damp, black earth. A
smoky little hand-lamp, and the thin glare which came


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
117
through the cracks of the broken stove, furnished the
only light there was. In a corner upon a broken box
was a wash pail and beside it a bit of soap and a rag of
a towel, the latter so black with use that the imagination
could not picture it as ever having been white.
As might be imagined, the odour of the place was any-
thing but agreeable, yet despite its rich bouquet of
flowers of filth, Maitland detected a persistent and
rather pleasant smell which he could not remember ever
to have smelled before. He was sure it was not the
same odour he had so recently detected upon his assail-
ant's person.
Crouched in the corner by the stove was the object of
their search.
“ Come up here and let's have a look at you!” said the
officer.
The bent figure straightened itself stiffly, slowly arose,
and shambled forward. It was very tall, gaunt, angu-
lar, bearded, and free from all tattoo marks.
“Is that your man? ” asked the policeman.
“No," replied Maitland promptly. “My assailant
was fleshy, with clean-shaven face, heavy, projecting
jaw, and tattooed hands. This man is thin, bearded,
has a weak and retreating lower jaw, and no tattoo
marks. We may as well drop him as out of the ques-
tion, and find where he's hidden the other fellow.”
“ It won't take long to search this ‘joint,' I reckon,”
replied the officer.
"I tell you there is no one else here," said the tenant of
the shanty, seating himself sullenly upon the cot.
“Yes, so you say,” replied Moreton ; “ but, incompre-
hensible as it may seem to you, we are believing our own
eyes in preference to your word.”
“Get up and let us ransack that pile of rags you are
sitting on. There's a big rascal here somewhere with


118 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
a smooth face and a villainously heavy jaw, and we're
going to have him or know the reason why.” In less
than a minute the examination of everything above
ground was complete—and not a solitary thing in the
least suspicious had been found! Maitland took noth-
ing for granted, even minutely examining the roof, in-
side and out, and satisfying himself as to the thickness
of the walls, and their inability to afford the slightest
concealment.
“ Bring the lamp and let us see if there is any hiding-
place below ground,” he said.
It took but the merest glance to show that the earthen
floor was continuous and had not been disturbed for
months.
“ Well, what do you say?" asked the officer.
“Wait here a moment,” replied Maitland," and then
I'll answer your question.”
He left the shanty, made a wide circle around it and
returned to answer the policeman.
“Outside,” he said, “less than a hundred feet away,
there is, as you know, an arc light which illuminates all
the area about this place. We have posted sentries so
as to render it impossible for anyone to leave this build-
ing, even if he could pass through a blind-wall, without
being quickly detected in such a light. Everyone on
guard is positive no man has left this shanty. I have
just made a complete detour which perfectly corrobo-
rates this testimony, for there is not a foot-print to be
seen save those we ourselves have made. I am sure,
therefore, that he has not left this building-unless in-
deed by some occult or magical means. I have heard of
such things occurring in India, but have never believed
the stories. We followed the fugitive closely, and I
would stake my life he entered here. There can be no
possible doubt upon that score. Equally sure am I that


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
119
he is not here now, for this fellow cannot be he, and we
have assured ourselves there is no one else here. This
is my view of the case. Not very lucid, I admit, and
full of inconsistencies, but you will have to take it for
what it is worth. For myself, I am going to look a bit
farther into the theory of n-dimensional space; for if
this chap didn't pass out of here in the direction of the
fourth dimension, I would be most pleased to be in-
formed how he did escape-unless, of course, we were
merely chasing his astral body. Ha! Ha! I have
seen some queer things before, but I shall forget them
all after this,” and George Maitland wore a decidedly
troubled look.
All men are more or less superstitious, but Maitland
was certainly as free from that universal taint as any
person one would be likely to meet in a day's journey.
He had met irreconcilable axioms in philosophy; but
here were two mutually annihilating certainties in the
concrete. His assailant must be in the shanty, yet
just as surely he was not there. It was useless for
him to try to convince himself that the thin, lank,
bearded individual with the receding lower jaw was his
assailant. He knew better than to place so slight a
value upon his powers of observation. He was entirely
nonplussed, and he frankly acknowledged it.
“ If this isn't the man,” said the officer, “I don't see
that we have any further business here. One thing is
certain : no one else is concealed here. I guess your eyes
must have played you false," and he winked knowingly
at the by-standers.
“I don't wonder you think so,” replied Maitland good-
naturedly. “ The mystery is that I can't make myself
believe it," and he led the way to the door.
“I have it !” exclaimed Moreton, turning back just
as he reached the entrance. « That fellow there is your
ssailant.
The powers of obselinowledged it: I don't see


120 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
man as sure as preaching! The beard which so
troubles you is false, I'll bet a hundred dollars!”
No one took the wager.
“If what you say is true," ejaculated Maitland," the
major part of the mystery is solved. Bring the light
while I examine. It won't take long to find out." .
Each held his breath as Maitland approached the sus-
pect and, seizing him by the beard, gave that ornament
a sharp twitch. It was rather discourteous treatment,
yet the victim took it all in good part, and even smiled
at Maitland's chagrin when the hair held fast.
“If you'll pardon the liberty,” said George, “ I'll pull
out a few of those just to convince the sceptical,” and
he suited the action to the word to the evident discom-
fort of his victim.
“ Gentlemen," he said, turning to his companions,
“ that growth is the result of nature, not of art.
Those," he said, exhibiting the few hairs he had ex-
tracted, “ are human hairs, bulbs and all, and he came
far more legitimately by them than I did. I regret to
say there is nothing whatever false about the beard; that
it must have taken at least six weeks to grow it; that my
assailant was clean-shaven; and—and that the mystery
remains as dark and impenetrable as ever.”
far more le nothing whatet six weeks to shat the myste


EPISODE THIRD
The Blow in the Dark





CHAPTER I
It was probably the heart of some captain of industry which
first suggested the idea of cold-storage.
It was the latter part of May, and one of those prema-
turely hot days which Dame Nature occasionally issues
as a Sirian threat of dogdays. James Moreton sat at
his desk in his shirt sleeves. There was an expression
upon his countenance which defies description. Never
before had his jaw looked so large, or suggested such
cruel ferocity. The asymmetry of his face, usually
hardly noticeable, seemed suddenly to have accentuated
itself into ugly prominence, and a certain elusive inhar-
mony between the two eyes heightened still further the
repulsive effect.
The winter had made a marked change in the man.
That hysterical flurry, ferment and flutter wherewith
the present hour curses America was uttering with slow
patience the first incisive syllables of its awful judgment.
Yet James Moreton heard them not, or if he heard, could
not or would not heed. Day by day the craving for
excitement grew stronger within him, and the old stimuli
which once had horripilated his eager daring he now spat
from his colourless lips as nauseous, tasteless draughts.
The feverish hell of the Stock Exchange, where the
jungle of savagery“ red in tooth and claw" seems ever
threatening to burst the thin skin of civilisation so
tensely strained over it, palled on his overspiced taste as
a thing flat, mawkish and insipid. Again and again
did Dr. Carew conjure him to adopt a calmer, saner
habit of life. It was all in vain. James Eldredge
Moreton had been inoculated with the spirit of this com-
123


124
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
mercial age, and that which as yet had but reached a
varioloid state in others had already become in his case
virulent smallpox. His business competitors prayed God
in public that they might never “ get it as badly” as
he had it, while in private they stuck themselves porcu-
pine-full of commercial vaccine points, in the mad
endeavour to at least become scabbed over and pitted
into a close imitation of the coveted malady.
He was still the Napoleon of the Exchange, whose bril-
liant maneuvres non plussed his cleverest adversaries.
Strive how they might, they could never foretell what
course he would pursue.
Truth to tell, the very audacity of this young commer-
cial Napoleon was, on many occasions, the determining
factor of his success. He was the most dreaded figure
on the floor of the Exchange, because of his brilliant,
unrelenting, cold-blooded business ferocity, expressed
in actions which defied prediction and took precaution
by surprise.
As he sat at his desk, however, on this May day, there
was something in his appearance which showed only too
plainly that he had played a game where to win was to
lose. Pale, drawn, and haggard; the pallor of his clean-
shaven face exaggerating itself against his black,
tightly curled, almost kinky hair; his eyes blazing with
a shallow glitter that was not good to see, he was an
object, at this particular moment, which his dearest
enemies would have given much to behold.
The letter before him was not pleasant to contemplate;
his chances of winning the one woman who dominated
his waking thoughts and filled his sleep with incoherent
dreams of a great good lost were far from reassuring;
the divorce proceedings which he had instituted against
his wife did not promise all that he could hope. The
trial was set for the fifteenth of June, and a tantalising


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
125
fiend of prophecy within him marked the hour with
derision. He had not forgotten his wife's calm predic-
tion, and he knew her far too well to make light of it.
She would do all that human decency could do,--he was
perfectly assured of that,—and equally certain that it
would be sufficient for her ends. Then, too, a soul-suffo-
cating sense of boredom fell like a gladiatorial net upon
him, till it seemed as if no stake were big enough, no haz-
ard sufficiently audacious, to make life's game interesting.
James Eldredge Moreton was in one of his depressed
moods. In such circumstances many a man would at
least have thought of suicide. Not so, however, this
young autocrat. He might, had a sufficient occasion
presented itself, have risked his life as a hazard;—that
would have been but an accentuation of the gambling
risks he so loved,—but to throw the stakes into the lap
of his opponent, without so much as an attempt to con-
test the issue, would have been too unsportsmanlike a
proceeding even to have suggested itself to him.
He picked up the letter and again read the following
portion of it:
“ Several months ago my client, Mrs. Clara Haswell, of Evans-
ton, placed in your hands, through me, securities to the amount
of $439,560 face value, with instructions that the same be sold
and an accounting made to me, as her attorney. I now hold your
receipt for the same. Receiving no statement of sale from you
I wrote you upon the matter. Your reply, which is before me,
asserts that the unpropitious state of the market had caused you,
in Mrs. Haswell's interests, to hold the securities in hand for
better financial conditions. A month later I again wrote you a
similar letter, to which you returned an almost identical reply.
“Learning that your market had fully recovered at least three
weeks before the date of your last letter, I wrote you demanding
either an immediate accounting or the prompt return of the
securities. You replied under date of May 20th, asking for a
week's time to complete negotiations, which you stated were then
in progress, looking toward a most advantageous sale of the
entire consignment. This request I granted, only to find in the


126
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
meantime that all of my client's securities were sold by you on
or before May 15th current.
“In view of these facts, sir, I take this opportunity to inform
you that unless I receive from you a complete accounting on or
before June 12th next, I shall, in my client's interests, take legal
measures to procure the same.
“I remain yours, etc.,
“WILFRED TUTTLE.”
This letter was dated Chicago, May 26th, 19 , and
had been received in the morning's mail.
James Moreton turned it face downward and pressed
an electric button at the right of his desk.
“ Charles,” he said to the clerk who responded, “ I want
to see just where my affairs stand. Let me have a state-
ment of my account at the Shoe and Leather and at the
Trust Co. Bring it to me at once.”
He made his request without raising his eyes from
his desk, and did not, therefore, detect the sudden pallor
which swept like a wave over Charles Bertram's usually
ruddy face.
“ Charlie Bert,” as “the boys ” called him, was a
“ sport ” among sports, but that was not all. He was
possessed of a facility in many things which led his
friends to say, “ Mr. Bertram is a 'genius.'” Or, to
follow the vernacular of some of the more racy of them
with religious thoroughness, “ Charlie's a 'gene,' that's
what he is."
He played a game of chess, his friends said, that on
more than one occasion worried even the best New York
professionals. He possessed a manipulative skill in
surgery and a love for the study of anatomy which
amounted almost to a mania, and aspirated rumours had
been wafted about in boon haunts that more than one
of the cadavers he had so dexterously dissected had
been procured by methods called “ shady” in the ver-
nacular. Then, too, Mr. Bertram was a “star"


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
127
athlete, possessing a strength which was most remarkable
for one whose vocation was sedentary. He prided him-
self not a little upon this physical prowess, which fact,
coupled with a quick temper and but little self-control,
got him into trouble on more than one occasion.
In personal appearance and address “ Charlie Bert”
was quite prepossessing. The pupils of his eyes, to be
sure, were not quite of a size, and he had a peculiar hesi-
tation in his speech; but one is hardly supposed to
examine a man with the same care he would bestow upon
a horse! He dressed in the loudest fashion, and with
dazzling ostentation, yet he boasted that his diamonds
were of the first water and his raiment of the finest
quality, as well as of the “smartest ” and most expen-
sive make. His habits, too, were known to make exorbi-
tant demands upon his purse. The young woman with
whom he associated had led several stronger men than
“ Charlie Bert” the pace that kills, and his boon com-
panions whispered among themselves that she could confi-
dently be depended upon to lead him, sooner or later, into
grave irregularities.
As a matter of fact she had already done so. Unable,
long since, legitimately to meet her exorbitant demands,
he had eked out his salary by petty stock-gambling, and
a fatal success in this had led him to enlarge greatly the
scale of his operations. To do this he needed more
capital, and he secured a temporary “ loan” from his
employer without taking the trouble to acquaint that
gentleman of the fact. He was sure of being able to pay
it back before any irregularity in his books should be dis-
covered. A broker friend gave him a “ straight tip" in
C., B. & Q., and he put everything he could rake and
scrape and all he dared to “ borrow” from his employer
into that stock.
Now, at just this particular time, much to the surprise


128 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
of Wall Street, it pleased James Eldredge Moreton and
those who followed his lead to precipitate a panic in
C., B. & Q., which act on his part proved to be a veri-
table boomerang, since it swept Charles Bertram clean
of all he could justly call his own, as well as of some tens
of thousands which figured upon his employer's books by
way of false entries.
When, therefore, Mr. Moreton said he wished to see
where his affairs stood, and asked for an immediate state-
ment of his bank and trust company accounts, it was
but natural that his clerk should be seized with a sudden
fear that his irregularities had been discovered. In a
few moments he returned, laid a little slip of paper at
his employer's elbow, and left the room without com-
ment, but not without an inward trepidation which beat
so loudly against his ribs that it seemed to him that the
young man at the desk must surely hear it.
Mr. Moreton scanned the slip long and earnestly, after
which he uttered a low whistle.
“ Phew! if Clara were to come down upon me now," he
muttered to himself, “I can see where she'd have a run
for her money. I suppose it was a bit irregular for me
to use her funds for a private ' flier,' but I was so
d d
sure of that stock I'd 'a' gambled my head upon it. Well,
fortunes o' war, I suppose! It isn't the first time I've
been between hawk and buzzard, if there's any comfort
in that reflection. Let me see: I've got till the 12th,
nearly two weeks. Pshaw! that's long enough to make
and lose a dozen fortunes. I ought to scare up a little
matter of half a million in that time. Egad! it didn't
take me twenty-four hours to “ blow in ’ Clara's cash! Oh,
I'll find some way to jolly Tuttle along till something
turns up. It's a blamed close call, but I reckon James
Eldredge Moreton isn't all in ’ yet, by a long way. I'll
get the excitement, anyway, even if Clara don't get her
money, and that's pretty much all I care about.”


CHAPTER II
So divine a thing is the love of a pure man for a pure woman
that its ecstatic thrills are felt at the very throne of Omnipo-
tence. Such adoration immediately becomes a religion, and any-
one less spotless than the snow, who seeks association with the
worshipped being, is regarded by the other half of love's equation
with the active virulence which the church militant has ever visited
upon blasphemy and desecration. The seeds of the worst hatreds
are sown in the furrows of love. The reddest blush of History
is an ashamed confession of battlefields of " love and mercy.”
“ WELL, what is it?" asked Mr. Moreton.
“Mr. Maitland wishes to see you,” replied his clerk.
“ Show him in."
After a few preliminary remarks the young financier
came directly to the matter in hand.
“I asked you to call,” he said, “ because I wish your
advice in what I esteem a somewhat important matter.
You remember the close call’ we had last winter with
what you called the fourth-dimension gentry, from the
weird, uncanny and seemingly supernatural disappear-
ance of our big assailant with the bull-dog jaw? Well,
after that experience I thought very seriously of of-
fering a big reward for the apprehension and convic-
tion of these scoundrels, when I happened to read Dr.
Willard's account of the Darrow case and the effect
produced by the reward offered by John Darrow. Nat-
urally I was not anxious to repeat his experience, and
had put this matter of reward out of my mind when
something occurred last night which recalled it with
absorbing interest, and led me to send for you. It was
about 10 o'clock and I had just left the Eden Musée,
where I had had an engagement with some friends, who,
129


130 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
-
-
----
-
by the way, did not show up,—and had not walked half-a-
dozen blocks when, without the slightest warning, a man
sprang from the shadow of a door-way and struck
viciously at my head with some sort of a club about
the size of a policeman's billy. I saw him the moment
he left his hiding-place, and when he struck I faced
quickly about and caught the blow upon my cane. See,
there's where he struck. If that had hit me, as planned,
it would have sent me to the Happy Hunting Grounds,
all right.”
“Did you see him so as to form any idea of his ap-
pearance?” asked Maitland.
“Pick him out of ten thousand!” replied Moreton.
“ There was no mistaking that huge frame, the clean-
shaven face, and the enormous bull-dog jaw. It was
your fourth-dimension chap, all right. Now here's the
funny part of it. He never attempted to strike the
second blow, but made off at once. As you know, he
can't run a little bit. Well, for a moment of course I
was a trifle dazed, and that gave him a few yards' lead.
I gained on him rapidly, but before I could overhaul him
he ran heavily up a tall flight of stone steps and dis-
appeared into the vestibule entrance of a fine house.
I was a bit cautious how I followed, for I ex-
pected that he was intending to take me at a
disadvantage when I opened the door. You may
imagine my surprise when I discovered that he had again
disappeared. In this case, however, there did not seem
to be any great mystery about it. He had simply
passed through the second doorway into the house.
I made up my mind that this palatial abode must be the
headquarters of some very select gang of criminals-
counterfeiters perhaps. I lighted a match and looked
at the number. It was 79! The name on the door-
plate was Madame Celeste La Salle! The discovery
ran heavily upe vestibule entra followed, for at a
pectes a bit the vestibulight of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 131
and said quietly
assailant entered we were most caret ud
fairly took my breath away. I stood before the door of
one of my wife's best friends—with whom she has been
staying ever since she left my roof! This put an en-
tirely new face on affairs and I immediately rang the
bell. It was Marie who answered the summons and I
related my experience to her. She looked at me with
that calm, superior air which you have doubtless noticed,
and said quietly: “You are certainly in error, James,
in thinking your assailant entered here. Madame La
Salle and I are alone to-night, and we were most careful
both to lock and chain this door. You doubtless noticed
that the chain was on when I answered your ring.'
“ Mistake is out of the question,' I replied shortly.
“My assailant passed through this door-way less than
two minutes ago. I'd stake my life upon it.'
“'You were ever prone, James, to take both large and
unnecessary risks,' she replied with a slight trace of
bitterness, and then continued after a short pause:
“What would you have? I will ask Madame La Salle
to let you search the house if you desire.'.
“Well, sir, to make a long story shorter, Marie tele-
phoned for three officers, and while two of them stood
guard without, I and the other one thoroughly ran-
sacked the house. We took nothing for granted, but
we found neither hide nor hair of the big-jawed as-
sailant.”
“ And the parties with whom you had the engagement
at the Eden Musée-who were they? " asked Maitland.
“Oh, just acquaintances of mine," said Moreton
evasively; but he added after second thought, “ They
are witnesses in my divorce suit."
He did not care to vouchsafe any further information
in regard to these worthies lest Maitland should think
it necessary to investigate them, and should in this
way learn the character of their evidence.


132 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ This, you see,” Moreton continued, “is the second
attempt upon my life, and the third time, they say, never
fails. Naturally, I would be glad to avoid any repe-
tition of this thing, and it has occurred to me, since
there are at least two concerned in the affair, that if I
make the reward big enough, one of them may be
tempted to turn state's evidence. What is your idea ? "
“I must confess that I incline strongly to the belief
that this whole affair is the result of some pledge or com-
pact of many, many years' standing,” Maitland replied.
“ If so, the oath which binds these men together will not
be lightly broken, and your reward will probably remain
untaken unless earned by innocent parties. However,
*No cure, no pay'is always a safe plan to follow.”
66 What do you say to fifty thousand for a figure? »
Moreton asked.
“ Unnecessarily high,” said Maitland.
“Oh, I don't know. I'd be glad to pay that to any-
one who'd deliver the goods. I'll offer fifty thousand.
I get some of it back, you know, in advertising," with
which remark he drew his watch from his pocket and
glanced slowly, and Maitland thought somewhat os-
tentatiously, at it. It was the finest, fullest-jewelled
Waltham movement money could •buy, enclosed in a
solid, gold hunting-case, beautifully chased and bearing
the monogram J. E. M. The hand that held it wore two
magnificent rings, one an enormous diamond of fault-
less lustre, flanked by two rubies, and the whole mas-
sively set in Roman gold: and the other a single ruby in
a chaste setting. His immaculate shirt-bosom held
another diamond fully as large as the one in the ring.
His necktie passed through a serpent in antique bronze,
from the expanded head of which flamed a wondrously-
fired opal.
• “I shall advertise the reward at once, then, since you
ese, bey could hest, fullesewhat of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
133
see no objection, and shall be glad if you succeed in se-
curing it for yourself," said the young financier with a
trace of good-fellowship to which he seldom gave ex-
pression. He was feeling much better than before the
interview, and Maitland left with the impression that
even captains of industry, howsoever selfish, sordid and
soulless, are not in every particular hopelessly detest-
able.
As soon as he was alone James Moreton again pressed
the electric button. At the sound of the bell “ Charlie
Bert's” heart sank within him and a cold sweat stood out
upon his forehead. It was his stroke of doom as he had
heard it a score of times during those rallies of con-
science, those protests of the soul, which euphemy calls
dreams.
He opened the door in a half-mechanical way and stood
trembling before his employer. “You may mail those
notices of the special meeting of the stockholders of The
International Wireless to-night,” said Moreton. “ See
that they all get off," and he arose from his desk and
prepared to leave the office.
“ Charlie Bert ” heaved an inward sigh and hurried
from the room.
Shortly after the events last narrated James El-
dredge Moreton called at the Reiss studio to see Eric
Montrose. Eric was out and Reiss invited Mr. Moreton
to await his return.
These two men would have had little or nothing in com-
mon under the most favourable circumstances; as it was,
being rivals in the love of the same woman, they were
like match and saltpetreliable to explode at the
slightest friction.
For a long while neither spoke, and then Moreton said,
coming directly to the one fatal subject which attracted


134 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
him as a flame lures a moth: “I suppose you are
aware, Mr. Reiss, that your attentions to Miss Sher-
wood are attracting much notice, and are most prejudi-
cial to her professional interests.”
Elbert Reiss calmly put aside his palette and brushes,
arose from his easel, and walked slowly to where More-
ton sat before he uttered a word.
“ Permit me to inform you, sir, that my relations with
the lady in question are distinctly her affair and mine.
Neither you nor anyone else need trouble in the least
about them.”
“Pardon me!” replied Moreton with cool insolence.
“A dramatic star owes something to her public. Her
reputation is a matter of interest to her patrons !”
Reiss's fingers opened and closed convulsively. “Do
you mean to insinuate- "
“ Insinuate! Bah! It's the scandal of the town! Do
you think her association with the co-respondent in a
divorce suit is likely to help her reputation? Her name
is in the common mouth! She has you to thank, sir,
that report puts her in the same breath with such
women as "
“ Stop!” and the artist sprang upon the financier and
closed his fingers tightly about his throat. At this
juncture George Maitland entered, but neither of the
struggling men observed him, and for reasons of his
own he forbore to interfere.
“ Listen to me!” Reiss fairly hissed the words into
Moreton's ear, as he held that athletic gentleman as if
he were a recalcitrant child. “If ever again you breathe
one syllable against Marion Sherwood, so help me God
I'll kill you for it! Now go, and remember well what I
have said, for by the living Christ I'll keep my word!”
and he threw James Moreton violently across the room.
The young financier fell against the little table of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 135
bric-a-brac, most of the contents of which he sent with
a crash to the floor. He caught the table for support,
and immediately righted himself. Almost under his
hand lay a stiletto-like weapon. He seized it with the
quickness of a cat, and, wild with rage, hurled himself
upon the artist.
The shock almost upset both men, but lightning-like
though it were, Reiss caught the descending arm be-
fore the dagger reached his breast.
Instantly Moreton, his face distorted and inhuman,
attempted to transfer the weapon to his left hand, but
before he could do so the artist seized his free wrist and
held it fast.
With set teeth and narrowed eyes Reiss gradually
forced Moreton's dagger-hand somewhat above his head,
and then with a slow certainty brought the weapon
closer and closer to his opponent's face. In a moment
more the point would enter his left eye. Just at this
juncture this figure
upon the blade of the
weapon held close
before his face caught
James Moreton's at-
tention.
66 The mark- !"
But he did not finish his exclamation. Instantly he
dropped the weapon, and his arm, released by Reiss,
fell listlessly by his side. A tremor ran through his
frame, his eyes became introverted, his muscles twitched
convulsively, and his countenance was of a flaming
crimson. He staggered and would have fallen had not
Maitland caught him.
When Moreton had rushed upon Reiss with the dagger
Maitland dared not interpose, lest Reiss should be killed
under his intervening arm. Moreton's exclamation at
sight of the hieroglyph damascened into the weapon,
and the paralysing effect the discovery produced upon
him, impressed Maitland deeply.


part, and during that time Reiss had, at a hint from
Maitland, left the studio.
When the financier was measurably himself again he
looked carefully about him, and, observing that he was
alone with Maitland, settled himself back wearily in
his chair. He was now so pallid and listless that Mait-
land, fearing he was about to faint, hurried into the ad-
joining room for a glass of water. When he returned
his patient had arisen and was about to depart. George
passed him the water. He drained the tumbler without
comment and it seemed greatly to refresh him.
Without so much as a word of thanks, apology or of
explanation he turned and walked out of the studio,
leaving Maitland standing, glass in hand, in the centre
of the floor, busy with thoughts which words would thus
have expressed:
“For turning the human perpendicular of civilisation
down into the porcine horizontal of savagery, commend
me to the greed of modern commercialism!”


CHAPTER III
If Dame Justice be ever pursued and threatened with annihila-
tion she will instinctively throw her balances into the legislature
and hide herself in the court-house, confident that no one seeking
her will ever think of searching either of those palladia of
liberty.
It was the morning after the quarrel between Moreton
and Reiss. The first mail had just been delivered, but
the artist, who sat in his studio with George Maitland,
had laid his letters aside for future perusal. The door
opened and Eric Montrose, pale, breathless and holding
an open letter in his trembling hand, burst without cere-
mony into the room.
“ Have you received one of these?” he asked excitedly.
“ No, what is it? ” said Reiss.
“ Read for yourself,” Eric responded.
“No. 163 Lombrose Street, Jersey City, N. J.
“May 28, 194.
“Mr. Eric MONTROSE,
“ No. 397 — St.,
“New York, N. Y.
“SiR: A special meeting of the stockholders of The International
Wireless Telephone Co. will be held at the offices of the Company,
No. 163 Lombrose Street, Jersey City, N. J., on the 13th day of
June, 19 , at 3 o'clock P. M., to see if the shareholders will vote
to sell the entire assets of The International Wireless Telephone
Company of New Jersey to the National Improvement Company
of New Jersey for the sum of twenty-five thousand dollars.
“ ALFRED H. DICKEY, Secretary.”
When he had finished reading Reiss turned enquiringly
toward Maitland.
137


138
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
- -
-
-
-
-
-
-
-
“How much stock stands in your name? " asked Mait-
land of Eric.
“ I had originally one million face value and have sold
very little of it, as Mr. Moreton exacted from me an
agreement that I would not sell more than one thousand
shares, for a period of eighteen months from the date
of incorporation. I have sold a little to Mrs. Moreton,
some to Miss Sherwood, and to a gentleman in her com-
pany, and Mr. Reiss has a little. I cannot tell at the
moment just how much of this has been transferred on
the books of the company."
“ You could probably control about one-fifth of the
total stock then for a certainty? "
“ Yes."
“ What does your charter say regarding sale of the
entire property of the company?"
“ That only a two-thirds vote of the stockholders shall
be required.”
“H-m-m! I was afraid so.”
“ How has The International Wireless prospered? Is
it in financial straits? Could its promoters honestly
esteem the enterprise a failure?”
“ Failure! It is triumphantly successful, both scientifi-
cally and commercially. We have done better than we
have ever dared to hope.”
“H-m-m! I am no seer, of course," George continued,
“ but this whole affair looks to me like a deliberate at-
tempt at freeze-out.' I can make nothing else out of
such a proposal to sell a prosperous five-million-dollar
corporation,-even though it may be over-capital-
ised,—for the paltry sum of twenty-five thousand
dollars.”
“ And in this event what becomes of the stockholders ? "
Reiss asked.
“ They get their pro-rata share of the twenty-five


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
139
thousand, if there be any of it left, after paying all
the indebtedness of the company. Let me see; in my
case, if the whole purchase price were distributed, I
should realise just ten dollars, or one per cent. of my
investment, which, considering the fact that I was 'let
in' on the ground floor’ isn't quite so good as Bell
Telephone, is it?"
“ But is there no way of preventing this outrageous
robbery?” Eric asked, with no attempt to conceal his
indignation.
“ I'm afraid not, unless you can control something
more than one-third of the voting stock," Maitland
answered.
“ But is there no legal process— "
“ Legal processes," interrupted George,“ operate
chiefly against the poor and the innocent. Indeed, the
law is anything rather than the poor man's friend."
“If this thing goes through, as planned," said Eric,
“ all my hopes, all my years of labour and of privation,
will count for naught. Is there not some way to prevent
this infamous crime?”
“ If you can control something better than one-third
of the voting stock, yes, otherwise I should say, no. I
would advise you to lose no time in getting proxies for
every share of stock you possibly can. Sound every
stockholder save those you know to be in the scheme,-
your friends first, of course,—and don't place too much
confidence in the professions of the doubtful ones. Mr.
Moreton is engineering this and he is— "
“A d- d scoundrel!” interrupted Eric excitedly.
“He's not fit to walk the earth, and the sooner he's
planted the better will it be for the rest of hu-
manity!”
And pale with indignation and trembling with excite-
ment, he made his way unsteadily to the door, at which


140 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
he turned and continued: “ If the law can't reach him,
the lawless can, and I call you gentlemen to witness now
and here, that if James Moreton perpetrate this outrage
I'll put him where he can't repeat it, as sure as my name
is Eric Montrose !” and he closed the door noisily behind
him.


CHAPTER IV
Expectation is the librarian who catalogues most of our observa-
tions, whence it not infrequently happens that many an affair of
pure fiction attains to the high estate of the scientific alcove.
It was the morning of the thirteenth of June, and George
Maitland had called early at the Reiss studio, hoping to
see Eric before he went out. In this, however, he was
disappointed. Eric had gotten an unusually early start,
and had gone out to make a last attempt to secure cer-
tain proxies which he esteemed of vital importance to
his cause.
“ That,” said Maitland, “ is just what I called to see
him about. How is he coming on? ”
“He still lacks something like a hundred shares,—or at
least he did this morning,” replied Reiss, “and he has
seen about everyone of whom he has any hope. Don't
you suppose it would be possible to get someone to bid
more than the twenty-five thousand and then demand a
stay of proceedings on that ground? Certainly the
Court would grant an injunction prohibiting a sale to
any but the highest bidder.”
“I should have advised such an attempt had I not
learned after considerable quiet investigation that such
a move had been forestalled with great care. News has
gone abroad that The International Wireless is merely
a stock-jobbing affair, and its large capitalisation is
pointed to in proof thereof. The affairs of the company
have been so managed that the books make a very bad
showing. Now, anything we might do toward securing
a higher bid would doubtless only raise the figure offered
141


142 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
by the straw 'company. The pity of it is that it is so
easy deliberately to wreck a business, and, at the same
time, to make the public believe that the failure
was inherent in the enterprise itself. Now in this
case "
But the entrance of Mrs. Moreton cut short the sen-
tence.
“ If Mr. Maitland will excuse you for a moment, Mr.
Reiss,” she said, “I would like a word with you in
private upon a very important subject which, I am sorry
to say, cannot wait.”
“ Certainly,” said Maitland; “ Mr. Reiss need stand
on no ceremony with me.”
“ I will detain him but a minute,” said Mrs. Moreton at
the door of the inner room.
“ Do not hurry," said George, “ for it is time I was off
and I shall be gone before you return. I merely want to
get another glimpse at one or two of my favourite
pictures before leaving.”
When Mrs. Moreton and Reiss were alone in the inner
room the former said, coming, with a trace of eagerness,
directly to the matter uppermost in her mind:
“ Have you seen the two men ? "
“ Yes, I saw them last night.”
“ Are you sure we can depend on them when the real
crisis comes ? ”
66 Yes, I feel confident we can."
66 You took them to Mr. Clark, of course? "
6. Certainly.”
6 Did he go carefully over the whole matter with
them?"
“ Yes, he spent an hour upon it."
“ Did they win his confidence?”
“ Completely, I should judge, from the remark he made
to me as they left."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
143
66 What did he say?"
“ If they don't cook James Eldredge's goose to a fine
rich brown, I'm no prophet!”
“What you say is a great relief to me," the lady re-
plied. “We have encountered such difficulties in finding
these men that I had almost lost heart. There was so
little time left. I assure you it has been a great strain
upon me, for I would give half my life rather than fail
in this undertaking. I am rejoiced that things promise
so well," and she arose to depart. “ I shall not forget,
however, how much of it all I owe to you,” and she
extended her hand to him with much emotion.
When they reached the outer door Reiss said:
“I suppose, of course, you will not care to be present
in person this afternoon."
“On the contrary,” Mrs. Moreton replied, “I shall
most assuredly be there. I have a slight interest, you
know, in what occurs at this meeting,” and with a
little delicately-modulated, silvery laugh she left the
studio.
“Of such fibre are martyrs made!” murmured Reiss
to himself as he closed the door. “Let me not be less
courageous than a woman,” he continued half audibly,
as he consulted his watch. “ It must be done and I may
as well have it over, though only God and I will ever
know the pain it costs me!”
He sat down at his desk to write a few lines to Eric, and
some verses he had but recently finished caught his eye
and held his attention.
He read the whole heart-offering through from be-
ginning to end. It ran as follows:
What sees the dewdrop on the rose ?
What tender incense drinks it in?
What velvet heavens its touch knows
Oh, paradise for seraphim!


144 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
What petalled whispers does it hear?
What passion shakes its crystal soul?
What damask woe finds it a tear
To tremble on the lid of Dole?
What nectar fills its cup of taste,
And savours all that overflows,
To lave the passion-burdened haste
Of dewdrop, drunken with the rose?
Oh, fadeless lustre of a dream,
Dreamt in a crystal's focal heart,
Weave me into thy wondrous theme
Of thy fair heaven, the throbbing part!
Or, better still, from thy dear eyes,
O maiden of the magic spell !
Reflexes they of paradise-
Let me the dewdrop's answers tell.
From their calm depths a light flames up,
And blossoms sweet their leaves unfurl,
Till like a gem dropped in a cup,
I see the rose quaff off its pearl.
Ah! then it is I thirst for thee,
And hunger with the pang of thirst,
For thou art all that's heaven to me;
Of flowers all most sacred-first!
Pearl of my cup, whate'er the draught,
How bitter or how sweet it be,
It matters not, if when 'tis quaffed,
Upon my lips my soul meet thee!
As he finished the tears came to his eyes.


CHAPTER V.
Fate is sometimes gentlest when she seems most cruel. The
bruises she inflicts upon our youth serve often the purpose of
making a tender, roseate history for our old age; and oh, the glory
of a grand life-history! All records of great characters are
written in blood, with the stylus of pain, and are preserved in the
subliminal quick of our essential selves. For the ships that Life
sails upon the Sea of Subconsciousness there is no return. They
go down with all on board into the deep abyss of being, tingeing
its waters with their own peculiar stain.
WHILE Reiss was leaving his studio two young women
sat conversing in an uptown flat. One was fair-skinned
and golden-haired, with wondrous violet eyes that seemed,
when she laughed, fairly to fluoresce; the other darkly
beautiful, with long, wavy black hair with the gloss of
silk, and a complexion deep, rich and transparent.
“Oh, Lenore !” exclaimed the fair-haired woman;
“ strive how we women may for the tinsel vanities of
life, sooner or later we all come to know that love is our
true mission. Love is everything to a woman, dear,-
there is nothing else really worth while.-Wasn't that
the door-bell?”
“ Yes, and I believe Sarah is out,” replied Lenore, as
she arose and left the room. She returned a moment
later and passed a card to her companion, saying:
“The gentleman hopes you will see him, as he has some-
thing of importance to communicate.”
“ Mr. James Eldredge Moreton !” exclaimed Marion.
“ You may show him in, dear.” It was plain to be seen
that she was displeased.
“ Pardon me, Miss Sherwood, for calling at this hour,”
145


146 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
said Moreton as he entered, “but necessity, you know,
knows no law," and he smiled engagingly.
“ Please be seated,” she said briefly.
Mr. Moreton had hoped for a pleasant little chat with
this new ideal of his, but she did not seem to encourage
trivialities.
“ I have taken this liberty, Miss Sherwood,” he began,
“ because I felt sure that you were ignorant of certain
things which touch your interests most closely.”
“I am quite at a loss to know to what you refer.
Please be more explicit.”
“ The matter is a somewhat delicate one,” he con-
tinued, “and nothing but my duty to you as a friend
emboldens me to mention it. Most of our friends, you
know, conceal from us whatever is unpleasant, placing
in the hands of our enemies the cups which hold the
bitter, nauseous draughts,—as if that would make them
the easier to swallow. Such a friend I hope you will
never consider me, though at the moment I may seem to
wear the unpleasant livery of my tidings. I could not
see an ill daily befalling you, and not acquaint you of
Please bematter is a some my duty to yor friends, you
it.”
Tul’? I aimpatiently, it!” he
66 6 Ill’? I am not aware that any ill is befalling me!"
said Marion impatiently.
“ Ah! that's the pity of it!” he exclaimed, with much
apparent feeling. “ Alas! I have good cause to know
how easily the trustful are deceived. I, too, was un-
aware that any ill was happening me until ”—and his
voice seemed to break under its weight of emotion,
66 until my wife was estranged and my home ruined by a
man who should have guarded, rather than betrayed,
my honour. Those who called themselves my friends
saw what was happening long before I did, but they
were not loyal enough to be the bearers of disagreeable
truths, so I was left to find my shame unaided. May


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
147
God forbid that you should ever have a similar ex-
perience!”
“ I infer,” responded Marion, “ that you have some un-
pleasant message to deliver. Please let me have it at
once.”
“If you will read these clippings you will understand
the danger of which I would warn you," and he passed
her two little bits of newspaper.
Holding them tremblingly in her hand, Marion read:
“ The world of art has now a scandal which will furnish it with
excitement for many a day. Mr. Elbert Reiss, one of New York's
best-known artists, has been named as co-respondent in a divorce
suit which is set for trial in the very near future. The plaintiff
is Mr. James Eldredge Moreton, the well-known financier. Some
rare sensations are promised at the trial.”
The young lady paused a moment before perusing the
other clipping. She was deathly pale, and everything
seemed so dark, dim and far away that for a moment
she feared she should lose consciousness. After a little,
however, her vision cleared, and she read:
“ The friends and admirers of Miss Marion Sherwood, the
brilliant young actress who last season took New York by storm,
are greatly shocked at the report that her engagement with Mr.
Elbert Reiss is soon to be announced. Mr. Reiss is most favour-
ably known as an artist, but upon his character as a man recent
events seem to have cast at least a legitimate doubt. It is, indeed,
a pity that such an artiste as Miss Sherwood should, at the very
start, ruin her brilliant and promising career by such an unfor-
tunate misalliance.
“ There will, of course, always be some who will judge her work
by itself, and care nothing whatever for the personal character
behind it, but the great mass of the theatre-going public will
withdraw its patronage from any star who offends the ordinary,
time-honoured and sacred standards of social decency.”
When Marion looked up Moreton saw that her eyes
glistened with moisture, and that her face and throat
were suffused with crimson. He perceived, too, a firm-


148 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
ness about the mouth which at once arrested both his
attention and fear.
“As you must know,” she said slowly, “I have never
seen either of these libellous notices before. They are
most malicious, and were inserted, I am sure, for the
express purpose of injuring either one or both of us.
I am sorry that you gave yourself the trouble of
· bringing them to me. Someone would certainly have
brought them to Mr. Reiss's attention, and he would
at once have laid them before me.”
“ Pardon me,” said Mr. Moreton. “I have good
cause, I regret to say, to know something of Mr.
Reiss's methods. Bringing you those notices, or ac-
quainting you with their tenor, would be the very last
thing he would ever do. He has everything to lose
and nothing to gain by your learning the truth.-
He pardon i far
“—Pardon me, sir! I, too, know Mr. Reiss, and some-
what better, I fancy, than you do, and I would pledge
my life that he will—that he will adopt the manly
course!”
“ He will not acquaint you with the contents of these
notices,—you may be sure of that. I'd risk a fortune
on it!"
At this moment the door-bell rang and Lenore entered
the room.
“ Mr. Elbert Reiss,” she announced.
“ You see I am right!” and Marion looked trium-
phantly at her caller.
“ Not yet!” he exclaimed. “He has not yet in-
formed you of the notices."
“But he will, you shall see!” she said excitedly.
“Ah! doubtless, after he sees me and knows I have
already done so," retorted Moreton with cool irony.
“ Oh! but he shall not see you," and Marion looked


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 149
quickly about her. “Here, step into the alcove and
draw the curtains. There! Now we shall see!”
“ And you will not tell him?” came from behind the
curtains.
“ No. You will hear all that passes, and will see how
you have maligned him.”
“ Show Mr. Reiss in, dear,” she said to Lenore as she
glanced hastily into the mirror above her mantle. She
quickly seated herself upon the sofa, as she heard Reiss's
step in the hall.
“I know you will pardon this early call,” he said, as
soon as they had exchanged greetings, “ when you learn
the importance of the errand which brings me here."
“ Indeed, you need not apologise, for I am very glad to
see you,” she said with that sweet smile which so became
her.
But the man did not smile in return. His face was pale,
his features drawn and rigid.
“I am afraid you will not be when you know the news
I bring. Read those !” and with a manner as abrupt
as his last utterance he placed two little newspaper clip-
pings upon the arm of the sofa.
Marion took them up one at a time and scanned them
carefully, as if reading them for the first time, and then
said quietly, “ The first, the shorter one, refers, I
dare say, to the matter of which you spoke some time ago.
You will remember that you told me charges had been
made against you, which, if true, would justly deprive
you of my respect; the other clipping is, of course,
entirely false and clearly the result of studied malice.
As such, ought we to permit them by worrying us to
accomplish the very end for which they were designed?"
“ You—you do not appear-to understand!”
“ I understand,” she said simply, “ that someone seeks
to injure at least one-possibly both-of us, and that


150
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
these calumnies are the means adopted. Is not that
all? »
.“ All! Would to God it were !” and he paused, as if
lacking the fortitude to continue.
“What more can there be?" she asked in gentle
sympathy.
* All that there could be, were the lies about me true!”
he exclaimed
“Forgive me if I am stupid, but I do not understand.”
Elbert Reiss arose and came quickly toward her. He
paused directly in front of her, and looked down at her
with a tenderness which she never forgot. His excite-
ment vanished as he contemplated the young woman
before him.
56 You are right," he said in deep, mellow tones so soft
that they seemed like unaspirated whispers; “ you do
not understand, you will probably never understand!
You do not understand the great light that dawned
within me the moment I first saw your face. You do not
understand how my soul met yours upon the canvas of
Romeo and Juliet. You do not understand how I came
to adore, to worship you,—to kneel nightly before you
on canvas, while I prayed God to make me worthy to one
day offer you my heart, my life, my soul! You do not
understand how, when the picture was removed, I offered
to present your manager with your portrait for “The
Odeon,' in order that I might inhabit Heaven again for
a brief period. You do not understand how you are light
and warmth and life to me; how without you my soul
gropes shiveringly in that outer darkness which is death.
Oh, my God, how I love you! Even the air you breathe,
the ground you press, is hallowed! You do not under-
stand-how should you? Only love, love like mine, and
love for me, unworthy as I am, could ever teach you the
alphabet of my suffering!”
do note
do not sht inhani pormoved,


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
151
He paused and buried his face in his hands. A great
light flamed up in the heart of the young woman, and a
bird of promise, mistaking it for the dawn, uttered a
glad pæan of praise. She forgot all but the man before
her and his love, -forgot they were not alone, and mur-
mured gently, as she smiled through her tears, “ I under-
stand now ! ”
The man before her either did not hear, or hearing, did
not comprehend the import of her confession.
“ You do not understand what a Heaven-sent privilege
it was to me to be able to see you,—to feel your presence;
and now all that must end. These lies must be as truth,
-and we must part,-must see each other no more
for your good name's sake! You do not understand all
this, and only through love of me could you ever learn
it. And now we must part for- "
“ No, do not say it !” she exclaimed quickly, as she laid
her hand upon his arm. He looked down with surprise
into her tear-stained face.
“I have already learned it, Elbert,” she said gently.
“I understand!”
For a moment he seemed dazed, like one who awakes
from a dream and wonders if he dream not still. Then
he understood and caught her to his heart as their lips
met in love's spontaneous betrothal.
A loud, mocking, satanic laugh came from behind the
curtains! The man and woman turned quickly toward
them as James Eldredge Moreton, convulsed with
laughter and holding his sides with his hands, stepped
out into the room.
Reiss disentangled himself quickly from Marion's
embrace.
“ Ach!” he exclaimed with loathing, as he seized her
by the throat. “You act your part well! My God! how
well you act your part !” and he hurled her from him


152 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
prone upon the floor, where she lay motionless. Then he
sprang toward Moreton and brought him quickly to the
floor. His hands were about the prostrate man's throat,
and his knee upon his chest, when Lenore entered. Reiss
· was not aware of her presence.
“ So you forgot the oath I made you! Possibly you
thought I didn't mean it!” he hissed into Moreton's ear
as he tightened his hold upon his throat.
“ Gentlemen! What does this mean!” exclaimed
Lenore, seizing Reiss by the shoulder. She was obliged
thrice to repeat her question before he noticed her. At
length, however, he released his hold and Moreton sprang
to his feet.
“ I'll keep my oath on a more fitting occasion!” the
artist shouted, and rushed wildly from the room.
Marion Sherwood lay unconscious.


CHAPTER VI
When a man is a de facto child of Satan why not call him
bad? If this be pessimism, those who are always trying to find
good in evil should be reminded that, in roasting the damned, the
Devil warms the cellarage of heaven.
No. 163 LOMBROSE STREET, Jersey City, N. J., had
anything but a prepossessing external appearance. Its
ground plan was just eighty feet square, and it had the
severe outlines of a packing-case. In its days of vigour,
before it became decrepit and ramshackle, the structure
might have been a sail-loft, or a warehouse for temporary
storage. Now the sills were rotted out at the corners,
and great holes appeared at uneven intervals in the side
walls. There had been a door in the side facing the
street, and a smaller one in a most unexpected location
right in the northeast corner of the rookery. The former
had been the ground floor entrance, and had been boarded
up when Mr. James Moreton took the premises; the latter
communicated by a narrow, steep and rickety stairway,
the treads of which were some ten degrees out of level,
with the story above; and this entrance, now that the
main door was nailed up, was the only opening below
stairs, for there were no windows in the lower story.
The building, which had never been painted, was orna-
mented by a liberal exhibit of signatures, with now and
then a rude attempt at portraiture. One mark in par-
ticular was worthy specific mention. It was some sort of
a hieroglyph shaped thus,
and located about
a foot above the keyhole
on the left-hand
edge of the door. Just
over the top of
the casing was a little
sign. The letters
153


154 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
were of pale grey on a light-blue ground, and the whole
was so worn that one would have thought the thing had
been scrubbed with sand. At the distance of three rods
they would indeed have been sharp eyes which could have
deciphered its legend, to wit: “ The International
Wireless Telephone Company.-Office."
Just in front of the door which had been nailed up was
a tall electric light pole, carrying both direct and alter-
nating currents, the former feeding the arc circuits
used for street illumination and the latter for power
and for incandescent lighting. Upon this pole was a
step-down transformer, dropping the voltage from 2000
to 104 volts; and from this a circuit ran into No. 163.
To the back of the rookery, some two rods from its rear
wall, was a lofty pole carrying the wave-collector of the
wireless telephone system. From this also wires passed
into the decrepit structure. The rookery stood by itself,
like a stricken thing deserted by its kind, and sorry was
the spectacle it presented. When Eric had asked why
he had chosen it, Mr. Moreton had replied, “ I fancy
what's good enough for John D. is good enough for us.
Now, the Standard has built up such a power that it is
to-day able to challenge our most fundamental demo-
cratic institutions. Standard Oil is the quickest known
solvent for the ink of our National Constitution, and the
best legislative lubricant yet invented. The Standard
Oil History is my mercantile bible, and John D. Rocke-
feller my prophet. My scripture relates how the prophet
held his meetings in a rookery, and I need no Thomas
à Kempis to tell me how to imitate him."
It is two o'clock in the afternoon of June 13th and
everything about No. 163 Lombrose Street, Jersey City,
is quiet and deserted.
There are rumours that The International Wireless


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
155
Telephone Company is in a bad way, and corroborative
of these rumours is the fact that the Jersey City station
has been shut down now for some weeks. No one has been
in attendance for many days.
At about 2:15 three men approach the rookery, and
one of them takes a bunch of keys from his pocket and
opens the small door beneath the pallid sign. At the
head of the rickety stairway is a door which has neither
latch nor lock, and apparently is intended merely as a
screen to prevent those at the lower door from looking
into the upper hall-way. The visitor who opens this door
for the first time invariably pauses in amazement at the
sight which meets his gaze. A spacious hall-way fully
eight feet wide extends from north to south the entire
depth of the structure. It is richly finished in red cedar
polished until its beautiful tones shine like mirrors of
pink glass. In the centre of the hall is an elaborate
electrolier, so generously supplied with lamps that one
feels a sense of superabundant illumination. No ray of
daylight is to be seen, after the upper door, made of
polished cedar on the one side and rough, unpainted and
age-discoloured boards on the other, swings to. Directly
to the left of this door is the electric button which con-
trols the lights of the hall. One of the three men had
pressed this button as soon as he had reached the upper
landing.
At either side of the hall, at intervals, are beautifully
carved chairs, elaborately upholstered in leather; and
upon the walls hang pictures of high artistic excellence.
One cannot but feel that he who planned all this did so
with the purpose of making, through antithesis, the pro-
foundest possible impression of affluence and luxury. If
so, he had good cause to congratulate himself upon the
results secured.
Traversing the hall from the stair door, you pass first


156
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
a door to the left, then one to the right, and then another
left-hand door near the end of the hall. These left-hand
doors are the entrances to two rooms used for exhibiting
the operation of the wireless telephone system. It is
with the apartment upon the other side that the three
men are at present chiefly interested. The one who
unlocked the lower door now takes from his pocket a
single key and opens the only door upon the right-hand
side of the hall-way, leaving the key in the lock. He and
his companions enter, and ere they can close the door
behind them we, too, will edge in. Before the man who
unlocked the door has had time to press either of the two
electric buttons we note the delicious coolness of the air,
so different from the sultry heat without; but a moment
later we detect a less agreeable closeness, as if the atmos-
phere were devitalised. The man with the keys notices
it, too, for he says:
“ Whew! smells like the catacombs on the Appian Way!
Good thing we came early," and he presses a button which
diffuses a flood of light throughout the room. We see
him also touch another button, but do not perceive that
the illumination is in any wise affected. Then, hearing
a low, gentle, whirring sound, and feeling a breath of air
upon our cheeks, we know an electric fan has been
started, although we cannot find it. Here, too, every ray
of light is artificial. There is not a window in the room.
The problem of ventilation at once suggests itself, and,
looking about for a solution, we discover at either end of
the room two narrow, iron-grated, register-like openings
not over three inches wide and perhaps three feet long.
The one upon the front or southern end of the room,-
the end near the street,-is close to the ceiling, while that
in the opposite wall is within a foot or so of the floor.
Each is one mouth of an air pipe, the other end of which
opens upwardly through the roof. The whirring sound


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
157
proceeds from an exhaust blower located in the rear of
the apartment.
In this way an abundant supply of fresh air is assured.
About the door,—there is but one in the entire apart-
ment,-is a neat brass railing provided with a little gate
opening toward the centre of the room. Within this rail-
ing are a desk and chair, a large oak wardrobe and a
letterpress stand.
The furnishings are massive and sumptuous. The
walls, unlike the hall, are not finished in natural wood,
but are papered in a flat tint of delicate flesh colour,
which makes the room easy to light, as well as pleasing
and restful to the eye.
The portrait of James Eldredge Moreton, recently
painted by Elbert Reiss, hangs upon the wall opposite
the door, flanked on either side by a rare bit of land-
scape work beautifully framed in gold. Other artistic
gems lend the unique charm of creative genius to other
portions of the room. The flat tone of the walls sets off
the pictures to the very best advantage.
At the northern end of the room is a large, flat-top,
quartered-oak desk, used at the meetings by the presid-
ing officer. The room being destitute both of closets and
of recesses, a massive, double-doored cabinet, also of
quartered-oak, serves in lieu thereof. At present it con-
tains nothing but a seersucker office-coat and a clothes-
brush belonging to Moreton, but with its doors closed and
locked, the imagination may easily crowd it with all
manner of office raiment. At all events, it fills a blank
portion of one of the walls, and helps to break a long
straight line of the large, prosaic, and severely box-
like apartment, destitute as it is of windows, closets,
jogs, recesses, or anything in fact upon which, or in
which, a wearied eye may rest itself. It stands against
the hall partition and inside of the brass railing sur-


158 THE MYSTERY OP JUNE 18TH
rounding the door. Between this double-doored ward-
robe or portable closet and the desk is a letterpress
stand provided with drawers and surmounted by a copy-
ing press, which would seem to indicate that more or less
business of a clerical nature is occasionally transacted in
this room. This copying cabinet is also within the rail-
ing, which brings it partly across the northern door of
the portable closet so that it would be necessary to move
it before this door could be opened,-a fact which would
at once lead the acute observer to infer that a single one
of the wardrobe's two compartments is amply sufficient
to answer all the requirements of the office.
The floor is neatly covered with the finest grade of
linoleum devoid of all ornamentation.
A large table occupies the centre of the apartment, and
substantially built chairs, upholstered in leather, are
conveniently disposed about the room.
It needs but a glance to show that great care has
been taken in transforming the interior of this struc-
tural wreck into business apartments of such elegance.
This result was achieved by Mr. Moreton, aided by his
clerks, Ho had spent many an hour here with the car-
penters, and had even become so interested that he had
horrowed their tools on one or two occasions, and,
though Wall Street would probably not believe it, had
then and there actually worked with his hands! Inas-
much, however, as he was careful not to do this until all
the other men had left, he was not publicly disgraced,
for no one was there to see him work, and he kept his
own counsel about it. The unusual experience carried
him back to his boyish dars before God's bright sun had
come to look to him so like a little, round, yellow dollar.
l'pon the president's desk are writing materials; a pair
of long shers; spite of papers; a big stick of red seal-
in**x now duty as * paper-weight; an elab-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
159
orately carved candlestick and wax candle; the cor-
porate seal of The International Wireless; several
books; two flat baskets marked respectively “live mat-
ter” and “ dead matter"; a sheet-iron check-cutter; a*
rule, and an adjustable calendar set at April 1st.
The man with the keys, who is none other than Mr.
James Eldredge Moreton, notices the calendar and
chuckles gently to himself as he changes its date to
June 13th.
Does he think the infamous theft he has planned par-
takes of the nature of a joke? And why should he not:
What to him the ruin of Eric Montrose and a few
others? He has, he thinks, rather outdone those strokes
of commercial finesse which succeed only because they
take the opponent by surprise; and he cannot refrain
from chuckling at the thought of his superiority.
In this game of chess he has not suddenly unmasked
his queen and discovered a fatal check. He has done
better than that, for he has given fourteen days' notice,
-has, if you please, announced a forced mate fourteen
moves in advance! Verily, this financial Napoleon has
his coup d'état, too, and he considers it, if appearances
are to be trusted, such a rare joke that he has more
than half a mind to reset the calendar at April 1st.
“Do you wish me to check the proxies ? "
It was Charles Bertram who asked the question.
“ Yes,” Moreton answered; “ you will sit there at the
desk within the railing, and see to it that no one comes
in who is not properly qualified. Montrose has been
very active, and it is probable his side will be fully
represented as well as ours. It will be a close call, and
we may have to strain a point, Charlie,we may, you,
know. You'll not forget what I told you ? "
“ No sir,” said “ Charlie Bert” promptly.
“When it comes to the voting, Harry,” said James


160 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Moreton to the other young man, “ I shall appoint you
and Charlie inspectors, and I shall depend upon you to
see that our side gets a two-thirds vote. You under-
stand what I mean, I trust?"
“ Sure!” said Henry Gates laconically if not gram-
matically. “We count the votes and make the returns.
Our report'll be 0. K.; but if there's a question raised
as to its correctness-
“ The presiding officer will see to that. You'd better
get everything ready, for they're beginning to arrive.
I hear someone coming now. Call out the name and
amount, Charlie, of each one as he comes in,” and James
Moreton seated himself at his desk and prepared the fol-
lowing schedule:
......
Total No. Shares........
Amount voting.....................
Necessary for control. ....
Shares
500,000
400,000
266,667
151,000
James Moreton........
Other interests by James
Moreton, proxy......
114,000
Total .........
265,000
266,667
265,000
No. of shares still needed for control..
1,667
At this juncture a gentleman entered. Charles Ber-
tram spoke to him and then called out:
“ Cornelius Draper;—655 shares.”
6 There's more than a third of what we need now,"
whispered Moreton as he wrote:
“ Cornelius Draper;—655 shares."
“ Eric Montrose ;–99,705 shares."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
161
James Moreton entered the name and amount upon his
schedule, and he performed a similar operation as each
name was called.
“ George Maitland;—200 shares. Mrs. James More
ton;–50 shares,” Mr. Bertram announced.
The gentleman at the desk, without a moment's hesita-
tion, put this fifty shares down as voting against him.
“Martha Warren, by Nathaniel Clarke, proxy ;-
10,000 shares."
Moreton put down Clarke as against him.
“Edward Willard ;—200 shares."
“Mrs. Cyrus Decker, by Edward Willard, proxy ;-
15,000 shares.”
“ Elbert Reiss ;-100 shares."
“ Simon J. Perry ;-900 shares.”
“ That's good,” said Moreton half aloud, as he put
down 900 shares on his side of the schedule. “Only one
hundred and two shares more and we're all right.”
This remark Maitland overheard, and he took an early
occasion to transmit its tenor to Eric.
“ Marion Sherwood, by Carl Wister ;-100 shares."
“ Frank Bartlett;-90 shares."
“ Good for Bartlett !” muttered Moreton to Gates, who
had just approached him as he put down ninety shares
on his side of the list. “ Only another dozen shares, and
it's two minutes of three," he continued, consulting his
watch. “ The opposition isn't in it. In two minutes
we'll call time and rush 'em. They haven't a ' ghost of
a chance," and he laid his watch upon the desk where
he could observe it constantly.
Maitland noticed the act, and advancing compared the
time with his own. It was an open-faced silver time-
piece, and appeared to be rather a cheap affair for a
man of such expensive tastes, at least so Maitland
thought, but yet, for all that, it was true to the second.


162 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
“ William Wilkes, by Theodore Belcher ;-1000
shares.”
“ Wilkes has gone back on us," said Moreton to Gates,
in an undertone, as he put down one thousand shares on
the Montrose side of his list.
Shares
“ Daniel Wilton, by Solomon Cohen, proxy.. 5000
Alberta Horne
1500
Leonard S. Greene » » » .. 400
Milton Perkins
» »
9
50
6 Sixty-nine hundred fifty shares !” exclaimed More-
ton to Gates, as he made the entry and rapidly struck a
total. “ There are but forty shares unaccounted for,"
he said excitedly, “and we need less than half of them
to be on velvet'! We are far in the lead as it is, and
it wants but forty-five seconds of the hour!”
Eric Montrose was pale, worn and tremulous with
excitement as he stood watch in hand, counting the
seconds which were between him and whatever fate held
in store for him. He knew that James Moreton would
not grant a minute's grace in calling the meeting to
order, and that he would make short work of all pre-
liminaries and speedily proceed to the vote.
Maitland, Willard, Reiss,-all who sympathised with
Eric, as well as the partisans of Moreton, caught the
spirit of excitement which was in the air.
Thirty seconds of the hour and the strength of the
opposing factions remained as before.
A step was heard in the hall; Eric's face brightened.
“I thought I could depend upon him," he said to
himself.
“ Henry Forsythe Carew ;-5 shares,” called Mr.
Bertram.
limint, and in minute te knew him and hand,"


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
163
hrough the bathat, too, Kontrol the meetiffort, secured
Eric Montrose closed his eyes, and it seemed for a
moment as if the whole apartment rocked like a cradle.
He seized a chair to steady himself, and then, as if
unable to stand, slid gently into it.
“ Good for the doctor!” exclaimed Moreton, in such a
loud undertone that not only Mr. Gates but Maitland
and everyone else in that part of the room overheard
him; “ I'd no idea he'd show up."
Twenty seconds of the hour and the Montrose faction
still lacked twenty-nine shares of control.
Ten seconds of the hour! and Eric's hand closed con-
vulsively over his watch. The blow was a heavy one to
him, for he had, by almost superhuman effort, secured
just enough support to control the meeting. To lose
the day,—and that, too, by only twenty-nine shares,-
through the broken covenant of one in whom he reposed
every confidence, was a bitter, soul-sickening business,
and Maitland, who watched Eric narrowly, feared the
young inventor's constitution,—undermined by years of
privation and driven to the verge of nervous breakdown
by the past two weeks' incessant toil and sleeplessness,
might not be able to stand the strain. For this reason
he remained within easy reach of him; and then, too, he
had not forgotten Eric's threat, and while he thought
it the idle outburst of over-strained patience, there was
still something about the young man's manner that
seemed to counsel him to be on the alert.
Five seconds of the hour! and James Eldredge Moreton
picked up his watch and said:
“ Please be seated!”
Then a step was heard upon the stair. Eric Montrose
sprang to his feet and made his way unsteadily toward
the door. James Moreton followed him. There was a
quick step along the hall, and then a very tall, thick-set
bearded man of some sixty-odd years of age, with very
Then as his feet Moreton


164 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
dark hair, shot at the temples with grey, coal-black
eyes, and a skin as deep-toned as a mulatto, with some
sort of blue tracery showing upon all uncovered por-
tions, entered the room.
Charles Bertram gave a start of surprise as his eyes
fell upon the face of the dark-skinned giant, and anyone
might easily have seen that this swarthy gentleman
called up disagreeable memories.
“I thought I should never find this place," said the
stranger," and was just concluding I should have taken
a balloon, instead of a car, when I saw a man standing
over at the other corner. He had spurs for climbing
poles strapped to his legs, and I thought, being an elec-
tric lineman, he might be able to direct me. As a for-
lorn hope I asked him, and he sent me here as straight
as a spear-thrust. Sorry, if I've kept you waiting."
“ Your name, please," said Mr. Bertram in an un-
natural voice.
“ John White," replied the man.
“ You are not a stockholder,” said " Charlie Bert,"
consulting his book. “May I see your proxy, please?”
" Rachel Eichberg, thirty-five shares,” said Mr. White,
producing a paper.
At the name “ Eichberg ” “ Charlie Bert” started
from his chair as if he intended to spring at Mr.
White's throat,-a suspicion which a face livid with
rage went far to make a conviction. He thought better
of it, however, after a moment and resumed his seat.
Mr. White continued as if nothing unusual had
happened:
“I thought I might have to send a substitute, so I have
not filled my name in as yet. May I trouble you for a
pen? »
“My clerk will save you the bother. Charles, fill in
Mr. John White's name," and Mr. Moreton held out his


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
165
hand for the proxy, which Mr. White gave him. More-
ton placed it before his clerk and that functionary
dipped his pen to write.
“One moment, please,” said James Moreton; "any
middle initial?”
“ No; plain John White,” replied the dark man.
“ Just glance at Eichberg again; I'll attend to this,”
said Moreton, and with a few rapid sweeps of his pen
he filled in the proxy, blotted it, and pushed it toward
his clerk.
“ Charlie Bert" started as his eyes rested upon it, and
a momentary flush swept across his face. Then he pulled
himself together and announced tremulously:
“Rachel Eichberg, by James Eldredge Moreton ;—35
shares."
“ Excuse me, but you've made a mistake; it is ‘Rachel
Eichberg, by John White!” said that gentleman
politely.
" The proxy reads "Rachel Eichberg by James
Eldredge Moreton,” and Charles Bertram held the
paper up to view.
“He has filled in his own name! ” gasped Eric.
For a moment both factions stood aghast at this
unblushing effrontery, this perfectly bare-faced dis-
honesty. Not a man but was completely dumfounded at
this cool display of commercial depravity. James More-
ton returned to his desk and sat down. . .
Mr. John White turned to the stockholders. He was
over sixty years of age, but in his excitement he would
easily have passed for less than fifty. He threw
off a good fifteen years with the squaring of his
massive shoulders and the drawing up of his herculean
frame.
“ Gentlemen,” he said, with full, measured utterance,
“are you going to tolerate such an outrage as this?


166
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Are you going to permit one of your number to be
openly despoiled of his most fundamental rights under
the law? Come, gentlemen, what say you?”
“No! No! Never !” came from the Montrose faction
as they gathered closely about John White.
The Moreton faction made no reply, but they quietly
drew in toward the president. Messrs. Bertram and
Gates left their position near the door and stood one
upon either side of his chair.
56 Gentlemen,” said Mr. White, “ unless I be recognised
as Rachel Eichberg's representative, we will prevent the
meeting and clear the room. May I never eat anything
but fern-root if I don't think I could do it alone!” and
he assumed an aspect so fierce that the front rank of the
opposition shrank back. Such a metamorphosis they
had never before seen. The suave, polished gentleman
had given place to an aboriginal giant who seemed more
like to fight with teeth than fists. His black Malayan
hair fairly bristled, and his eyes flamed with a wicked
lustre as he stepped forward between the two factions,
the better to general his forces. Then he caught sight
of Mrs. Moreton.
“A lady!” he exclaimed, and his manner visibly
softened as he called out to her, “ Pardon me, madam,
but this is no place for a woman. I trust you will leave
at once.”
Mrs. Hortense Marie Moreton bowed her acknowledg-
ment, but instead of leaving she made her way forward
and stood at Reiss's elbow in the very front of her
faction.
“ Well, sir, your answer!” White shouted to Moreton.
“ Will you take your name off my proxy, or shall I write
my name on you? Choose and be quick about it!”
James Moreton was very pale as he rose to reply, but
there was no trace of indecision in his manner.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
167
fore he could spea Montrose factionoj yourselves, tot
Before he could speak, however, Dr. Carew stepped for-
ward and said to the Montrose faction:
“ Gentlemen, I beseech you, control yourselves,—at
least until I have exhausted my good offices in attempt-
ing to straighten this matter out. As Mr. Moreton's
physician I may be able to show him the enormity of the
offence he has committed and to induce him to repair the
wrong before it is too late," and he turned toward Mr.
Moreton.
“ James,” he said severely, “what you have just done
is, I am sure, without parallel in the whole commercial
history of New York.”
“Which illustrates,” said James Eldredge Moreton in
a tone fairly frigid with sarcasm, “ the ignorance of
specialists upon all but their own little hand-patch of
knowledge. You are quite unaware that in filling out
this proxy I followed the precedent of one of the best-
known and richest of New York's financiers, one whose
name you have heard many a time in connection with our
elevated system. You may be assured I am following a
good model.”
“ But, James, it is unfair, dishonest, disreputable!”
“ All this may be so," retorted Moreton with cool, inci-
sive utterance, “but it's good business, and it worked
before, which is all I know, and all I need to know
about it.”
“Let me conjure you to abandon this mad course.
You know you have no right
“ You waste your breath, sir," interrupted Moreton
impatiently. “What I plan to do, I do. I go through
obstacles, not around them. I trust I make myself
clear.”
“You do, quite clear,” replied the doctor with some
bitterness. “Now listen to me while I inform you that
I do not care to keep the acquaintance of any man


168 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
capable of such an exhibition of depravity. I have but
five shares, I regret to say, but those I shall place at the
service of these gentlemen," and he stepped over to the
Montrose faction.
“ As you please," retorted James Eldredge Moreton,
with a laugh. He seemed disposed to treat his physi-
cian's disaffection as a joke, rather than as an irrepar-
able loss. :
“I, too, gentlemen, have a word to say!” exclaimed
Maitland, stepping forward. “I am at present in the
employ of Mr. Moreton, a relation which I wish to ter-
minate instantly. I call you all to witness that I sever
all connections with Mr. James Eldredge Moreton now
and here, and demand the immediate acceptance of my
resignation."
" Which I grant without question," replied Moreton.
“ I will return all documents to you to-morrow," Mait-
land continued. " Thank you, gentlemen ; that is all I
have to say."
“ If no other weak-kneed individual desire to desert my
standard," said the young Napoleon of the Exchange,
with a sneer, “I will call the meeting to order and pro-
ceed to business.”
John White took a step forward. “Will you recognise
me as the Eichberg proxy?”
The question was asked in a deep, low voice, yet one so
intense that it seemed as if the words were almost hissed
across the desk, straight into Moreton's face.
That gentleman's countenance had the pallor of death,
but there was not the slightest tremor in his voice as he
replied: "I will not !”
“ Then there will be no meeting !" shouted John White
as he stripped off his coat and threw it in a chair.
“ Gentlemen, let's clear the room! Be careful of the
lady!”



“ 'WILL YOU RECOGNISE ME AS THE EICHBERG
PROXY?'”





THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
169
Moreton sprang to his feet.
“ Now then!” continued White. “ The fine gentleman
behind the desk is my heart-I mean my choice! I speak
for him!” and he rushed forward to seize him.
Before John White could pass the desk a pistol-shot
rang out so loud and near that everyone held his breath,
as he looked about to see who had been hit, and some
dropped quickly to the floor for fear they themselves
might stop the next bullet which all felt sure would
instantly follow its predecessor. No weapon could be
might stopuickly to the see who weryone helå pistol-shot
seen.
Then, without a second's warning, and as if the shot
had been a signal, all the lights went out, plunging the
apartment into absolute darkness.
Confusion reigned! Some made a rush toward what
they thought was the door and, mistaking their bear-
ings, charged into the midst of the opposing faction,
thus precipitating a panic.
Each side thought the other was attacking it in the
darkness.
In less than ten seconds the room was a pandemonium
of struggling, fighting men. No one could tell friend
from foe; so, in the frenzy of the moment, each hit out
aimlessly in the darkness, in the blind endeavour to
maintain a little unoccupied circle of safety about his
own person.
Then a loud cry caused a momentary pause. It was
neither a moan nor a scream, yet it mixed something of
both with its imprecation.
"Ach! Curse you! Help! Take him off, he's killing
me! Oh!” and the whole building shook as with the
fall of a heavy weight.
The struggling mass of humanity paused like a single
organism transfixed with terror.
" A light! a light! Someone light a match!” It was


170 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
a lady's voice, and, brought to their senses by the
superior presence of mind of a woman, several men
immediately lighted matches, which sent a weird, fitful
and uncertain glow over the scene.
“Someone light the candle on the desk," called Mait-
land from somewhere near the centre of the room.
Reiss, Eric, Clarke and White all reached for it with
lighted matches, but before they had an opportunity
Charles Bertram had lighted it.
,“ Quick! Bring it here!” exclaimed Dr. Carew, as he
bent over a prostrate form upon the floor.
Eric passed the lighted candle to him and he held it
close to the figure stretched at full length. The face
was upturned. It was the face of James Eldredge
Moreton ! .
The hilt, and a bit of the blade, of a dagger projected
from his left breast. The weapon had struck with uner-
ring accuracy over the heart and had been driven home
almost to the handle. ***
* It was left in the wound,” Maitland said to himself,
“in order that its possession might not incriminate the
assassin.”
PAN


CHAPTER VII
Death, which is merely the dropping of the loosened poppy
petals into the great, drowsy parent-ocean of slumber whence
they came, is the only kind of darkness which at once both con-
ceals and illumines. It often blurs to acquittal the grossest
outlines of our faults, and sharpens to definiteness the minutest
details of our virtues. It sucks the breath of criticism, and ties
the tongue of truth,-in short, it is a sort of anamorphoscope
whereby a heinously deformed life not infrequently assumes a
symmetrical beauty of which even a seraph might well be proud.
DARKNESS paints even the commonplace with the brush
of fear, while it gives to the naturally tragic its full
palette of horror. Shapes which smile affably at you at
noonday refuse to recognise you at midnight, and
shriek a cavernous, sepulchral, graveyard disapproval
of any attempt at familiarity. To partially light the
uncanny is, as it were, but to show a single feature of
Horror's gruesome ugliness, leaving the imagination to
fill out the frightful visage with dread for a pencil and
Terror's curdled crimson for a pigment.
The group that pressed close about the body of James
Eldredge Moreton, seen in the feeble light of the candle
which Dr. Carew held in his hand as he bent over the
prostrate figure of his patient, so vigorous, virile, and
defiant a minute before,—now so calm, pallid, motion-
less and unassertive,—was one which would have thrilled
Rembrandt's soul of contrast, and have translated him to
a veritable seventh heaven of chiaroscuro. How his
artistic nature would have revelled in the varied expres-
sions upon the faces of the men and of the one woman
present! How he would have striven to imprint upon
the countenance of each the horror which comes from
171


172 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
the awful conviction that murder has just been com-
mitted, and that the assassin, with the ghastly act still
fermenting in his soul, is standing in his very presence,
-perhaps actually pressing his elbow!
And the guilty one? Would he have let the brutal
psychic red of the jungle seep through the thin, patchy,
desquamative carnations of civilisation, to form itself
upon his countenance into a legible brand of Cain? If
so, which man would he have chosen? Surely he would
not have suspected the woman, so queenly and self-con-
tained, albeit so deeply moved? Ah, no! there is cer-
tainly motive enough to be found elsewhere without mis-
trusting a woman ;-yet who can tell?
The first thing Dr. Carew does, as the light of the
candle falls upon the body of his patient, is to pluck the
dagger from his left breast and lay it upon the floor
beside him. The weapon looks so familiar to Maitland
that he scrutinises it as closely as the feeble light will
permit. He cannot be certain, since it lies in partial
shadow upon the floor, just what the figures are upon the
blade, but he is sure that just below the hilt there is
some sort of figure—the lower half of which is obscured
by blood-strangely resembling the hieroglyph which
he had seen in each of the threatening letters, upon
Romeo's dagger, on the back of the left hand of his
burly assailant, in the newspaper clipping anent the
assassination of the elder Moreton, and upon the outside
door of the very building in which the body now rests
in its little crimson pool.
There is in all of Dr. Carew's movements the unhurried
rapidity of the skilled physician. It is but a matter of
some thirty seconds since the victim fell, and less than
fifteen since his physician knelt, candle in hand, by his
body, yet the doctor has already removed Moreton's
coat and vest and is now laying bare the wound. Mait-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
173
land is holding the candle for him, in order that he may
have free use of both hands. The doctor places his ear
to the prostrate man's breast.
“I am a physician,” says Dr. Willard, elbowing his
way through the little circle of excited men;" can I be
of any assistance?”
Dr. Carew looks up quickly as if startled at the unex-
pected sound of a human voice amid a scene so gruesome.
“ He is past all mortal help,” he says in a low, awe-
inspiring tone." The dagger passed directly through
the right ventricle. Death resulted instantly. See, here
is the wound.”
“ Are there not two wounds, Doctor?” asks Maitland,
lowering the candle. “What is that lozenge-shaped
discoloration just below and a little to the right of the
wound you have mentioned? Was not that produced
by a dagger-thrust?”
« Yes, but it was by one given his father before James
was born. It is a birth-mark, you see,” and Dr. Carew
passes his hand over it.
“ If you will kindly step back a little, gentlemen, I will
turn the corpse over to see if there are any other
wounds,” saying which the physician deftly rolls the
body upon its face.
“ There's a wound there between the shoulder-blades!”
Maitland exclaims.
“ It is, indeed, so!” says Dr. Carew, in a tone of
surprise.
“ And see, there upon the back of the neck! Are not
those the imprints of fingers? ” Maitland.continues.
66 There can be no doubt of it,” the doctor replies.
“ Look at them closely!” cries Maitland excitedly.
“ See the double row of finger-prints,-four on either
side, and note that those which were made by the left
hand show no nail-wounds, while all four impressions
corpselly step he
wound


174
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
made by the right hand exhibit unmistakably the scars
of finger-nails and look! look at the mark made by
the left forefinger! Observe how- " But he does not
finish the sentence, for it suddenly occurs to him that he
has discovered a clew which will enable him,-if he can
get sight of all the left forefingers in the room,—to
locate the assassin with practical certainty, and he fears
what he has already said may materially interfere with
his freedom of observation.
He notices upon the floor in the shadow of the desk a
little rectangular object about the size of a small note-
book, and perhaps half an inch thick, and thinking it
something the assassin may have dropped in the scuffle,
he deftly covers it with his foot until able to pick it up
without attracting attention, when he thrusts it into his
pocket without attempting to examine it.
He has no idea of sequestering these things from the
authorities, but he feels fully warranted in taking tem-
porary charge of anything likely to have a bearing upon
the case while the opportunity presents itself. Is he
not a special officer, as well as a detective?
Dr. Carew's examination is over in a few moments.
When it is finished he says:
“ Gentlemen, a frightful murder has been commit-
ted in our very presence; and the assassin, whoever
he may be, is even now among us. The deed, how-
ever, is not, I am confident, wholly the work of one man.
You all heard the pistol-shot, and noted that the room
was almost instantly plunged in darkness. That shot,
which seemed to us so close at hand, was fired outside to
notify the assassin that the light would be turned off a
moment later, and to warn him to get within striking
distance of his victim and to plan his blow. The man
who cut off the light outside is probably the one Mr.
White mistook for an electric lineman. If so, he should


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 175
be easy to recognise. We have a record of everyone
present, and have, therefore, the name of the principal
in this crime; but the accomplice—should we not go in
pursuit of him now while he has at best only a few
moments' start of us?”
“I have had some experience in these matters,” says
Maitland, “and if you will permit me, I would like to
make a suggestion.”
“ Speak out; time is everything!” says Dr. Carew.
“ Everyone should immediately leave the room,” Mait-
land rejoins, “ so as to make sure that the body, the
weapon, and everything else is left absolutely intact
until the medical examiner arrives. Let Messrs. Gates,
Willard and Bertram go at once in pursuit of the
accomplice. They will, of course, immediately notify
the police, and will return here as soon as their mission
will permit. There is a telephone just across the hall,
and if, as I suppose, Mr. Montrose has a key to the
room, I would advise that he immediately notify the
medical examiner and the police of what has occurred.”
“ I will do so at once,” says Eric.
“ For the rest of us,” Maitland continues; “I would
suggest that we immediately leave and lock the room, —
I noticed the key in the door as I entered,—and await in
the hall-way the arrival of the authorities. If this is
agreeable to you, gentlemen, I will light the way.”
Dr. Carew casts one parting look down into the white,
clean-shaven and rigid face so ghastly in the feeble
light, and then, turning quickly away, he says:
* Lead on!” and makes his way to the door.
When the last person has left, Maitland, candle in
hand, shuts and locks the door, saying:
“ The dead body, the weapon, and, so far as we know,
everything actually pertaining to the crime, with the
single exception of the assassin, or assassins, is now


176
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
under lock and key. This door is the only entrance to
the room. As a matter of fact there is not even so much
as a window, so that, by standing guard here, we shall
be able to take oath that everything remains precisely
intact within the room.”
At this point Eric Montrose comes from one of the
rooms to the left of the hallway.
“I have telephoned the medical examiner and police
headquarters," he says. “We shall not have long to
wait.”
“ In the meantime, gentlemen,” continues Maitland,
“ if you will permit me to offer yet another suggestion,
I would advise that we take the name and address of
each one present, as a sort of roll-call to check against
the list already in Mr. Bertram's possession. By so
doing we shall make sure that everyone is duly accounted
for, and not wonder, a few days hence, if such and such
a person were really present at this vigil. I have a little
pocket diary in which we can write. We will begin with
you, Doctor, if you please," and he passes the little book
and a stylographic pen to Dr. Carew and holds the
candle so that he may see to write.
“ Now, if each one, as he finishes, will kindly pass it to
the next,” Maitland continues as the doctor ceases writ-
ing, “I will go along and furnish the light,” saying
which he passes to the left of Mr. Perry and holds the
light so that that gentleman may see to write, and, inci-
dentally, so that he himself may, in the meantime, study
the writer's left hand.
The chief object Maitland has in asking for these
names and addresses is the excellent opportunity it
will afford him to study the left hand of each signer,
as he holds the candle. Then, too, he is by no means
sure that the assassin may not be one of the proxies
not known to any of the stockholders, in which case, he


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
177
reasons, it is more than likely he has given a fictitious
name at the door. In .such an event, investigation at
whatever address he may give will immediately lay him
under suspicion. Maitland determines to take the earliest
opportunity to visit every address given.
John White is the last man to sign. Maitland takes
the little book from him and approaches Mrs. Moreton.
“I know you will want to join the rest of us,” he says,
smiling, “ though in your case, of course, it is hardly
necessary.” She takes the book and writes her name
and address.
The man with the candle has found the forefinger with
the tell-tale nail! The discovery so horrifies him that
he fears lest his face may betray the conflict of emotions
going on within him.
It was but a short time before Dr. Willard returned
and added his name to Maitland's list.
Neither Bertram nor Gates came with him.
They had all, the doctor said, seen a man in the dis-
tance as they left the building, but although they had
gained rapidly upon him, he had disappeared before
they could overtake him.
“ Did he enter some building?" Maitland asked of
Dr. Willard.
“I couldn't say,” the other replied. “I fancy I must
have made a great mistake in the time. I saw him dis-
tinctly before me, and looked down, as I supposed, for
barely a second; when I looked up again he was gone!
I probably entirely misjudged the length of time I
was looking away from him. Such things have hap-
pened before, you know.”
“Mr. Bertram thought he went into a building upon
the corner, away up the street, and Mr. Gates was all
but certain he passed on and turned the corner. How-


178 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
ever, he slipped us at all events, and that's the main
thing;—and not two minutes later I awoke to the fact
that both Bertram and Gates had disappeared in what
seemed to me almost as unaccountable a manner. It is
probable, therefore, that my own mental condition was
responsible for both of these singular experiences.”
The arrival of the medical examiner and two officers
cut short the conversation.
Maitland briefly explained what had occurred and
ended by saying:
“We all came out here and locked the door, in order
that we might be able to assure you nothing had been
tampered with. We have not much to offer you in the
way of light, but we may be able, with a little search,
to find some more candles inside.”
“ I have a lamp in the laboratory, if you desire it,"
interposed Eric.
“ By all means let us have it," said the examiner.
“ We would like you,” he continued, addressing Mait-
land, " and Dr. Carew to accompany us. The rest will
please remain here in the hall where we may consult them,
if necessary,” and he pushed open the door and entered
the room, followed by the two officers, and Maitland and
Dr. Carew.
“Where did you say the body lay? " asked the ex-
aminer, as he locked the door on the inside.
“Right there by the desk,” said Maitland, advancing.
“He fell with his head— My God! the body's gone!”
and with a look of amazement and horror he seized the
examiner convulsively by the arm and pointed to the
wall, where there was a rude figure traced in blood,
into the centre of which the fatal dagger was deeply
driven.
“ Look there! Note the shape of that daub of blood,
and then look upon the dagger blade close below the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
179
below, the saf blood, - that you the same="into a chair at.
hilt. The two figures, you see, are the same;—the same
hieroglyph which is scrawled upon the outside door
below, the same- " He checked himself. “You see
that pool of blood,—that's where we left the corpse !
The doctor, here, will tell you the same.”
Dr. Carew, however, had sunk limply into a chair at
Maitland's weird announcement. He was very pale,
and did not appear to comprehend that he was being
addressed.
The examiner looked quickly first at one and then at
the other, as if to make sure that he was not the victim
of a practical. joke. He seemed satisfied with his
scrutiny, for he said a moment later to the officers:
“It couldn't have been taken through the doorway with
all that crowd in the hall, so we've got to depend on
the windows for explanation."
“ Our friend, the Exam.,' thinks it's night, or else that
we're a-burnin' daylight.for nothin',” said the junior
officer in an undertone to his comrade, as he winked
his strabismic left eye.
" Why don't you look at the windows, boys? ” asked
the medical examiner, as he straightened up from
scrutinising the stains upon the floor.
“We can't see that there are any,” said the elder
officer. .
“H-m!” exclaimed the examiner, casting a hasty
glance about the apartment; “ quite right! quite right!
Well, that simplifies matters greatly.—That thing
over there, that wardrobe, seems to be the only thing,
except the desk, big enough to hold anything. Suppose
you open that.”
One of the officers pressed his finger-tips against a
panel of the southernmost door of the wardrobe and
attempted to pull it open, but it held fast.
5 It's locked,” he said. “The blamed thing hasn't


180 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
any handle, or I reckon I could pull it open, in spite
of that fiddlin' little fastenin'."
“I have a wardrobe something like that,” said Mait-
land; “ let me see if my key won't fit this. It's a snap-
lock, isn't it?”
“ Yes," answered the officer addressed.
Maitland tried all of his keys, but while two of
them would enter the lock, none would withdraw the
bolt.
“ Is it a hollow key? " asked Dr. Carew, coming for-
ward and looking into the keyhole.
“ Yes,” Maitland responded.
“I have two or three about that size," continued the
doctor. “ It won't do any harm to try them. That
certainly won't do it, though. Ah! this seems more like
it;—no, it only turns part way." He picked out
another, inserted it in the lock, turned it, and swung
the door open.
There was nothing inside but a seersucker office-coat
and a clothes-brush!
« Now, if you will help me slide the letterpress cabinet
this way," said the doctor, withdrawing his key and
swinging the door to so as to make room for that article,
“ I will see if this will open the other door.”
Maitland assisted the doctor, and a moment later
the other door of the wardrobe was unlocked and thrown
open. In this instance there was not even so much as
a clothes-brush in the compartment,-it was absolutely
empty!
“Well, there's only the desk left; let's try that!”
said the examiner, and he attempted to pull out one of
the drawers, only to find it locked.
“I reckon that's one o' them take-your-boot-off-to-
sneeze desks,” said the younger officer. “ One o' them
fellers where you pull open the centre drawer when you


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
181
want somethin' way down in the southeast corner o’ the
critter. If so I can fix it dead easy. Catch a-hold,
Jim, while I see.”
The two officers tipped up the desk and the younger
man inserted his hand in at the back. This brought to
view James Moreton's vest, which had been concealed
under the desk, a fact which probably accounted for
its not having gone the way the coat went. Maitland
carelessly pushed it clear of the desk with his foot. He
wished very much to secure some article of Moreton's
apparel to use as a scent for bloodhounds, if he could
do so without attracting attention.
“ Now pull open the centre drawer," the junior officer
said, “and we can get into the whole business.”
It was indeed so, and a moment later they had removed
all the drawers from the desk and placed them in a pile
upon the floor. Their search was fruitless. The mys-
tery seemed farther from solution than ever.
“I am convinced,” said the examiner slowly, “ that
there is no man, dead or alive, in this room besides our-
selves. It is equally evident that no one could possibly
either have entered or left the room by that door
without the knowledge of those standing in the hall. If
now, as you say, you left the murdered man here, I
should like to have you tell me how the assassin or his
accomplices, in the short time at their disposal, not
only got in and out of here without detection, but took
with them the corpse of a full-grown man. There are
no windows; no holes in the wall, save those two little
narrow register slits, which would not pass a nursing
babe; no sky-light; in fact, gentlemen, we are stand-
ing in a box which has six walls, and that door is the
only hole in any of them large enough to permit the
passage of a man! Will you be good enough to
tell me how you account for all this?" and he


182 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
shot at Maitland a sharp glance of ill-concealed in-
credulity.
Meanwhile George Maitland had not been idle. He
had carefully examined all the walls, investigated the
linoleum upon the floor, and satisfied himself as to the
ceiling; but he had discovered nothing but the vest
which Dr. Carew had stripped from the body, and which
he had doubtless thrown beneath the desk in his haste
to uncover the wound. Either the others did not observe
it as it lay where Maitland had kicked it or they
thought it unworthy of notice, and he did not think it
wise to call it to their attention.
“I understand perfectly what a tax we have put upon
your faith,” he said, “and I realise that it is only the
fact of our numbers which lends any credence to our
story; yet we have told you nothing but the truth. You
can hardly be more mystified, more utterly dumfounded,
than are we ourselves.
“Mr. Moreton has, for a long time, expected some
violence to his person, and he engaged me, many weeks
ago, to act in his behalf as a private detective. I
regret to say his fears were but too well grounded. He
has been murdered in our very midst, and what I had
thought would be a very simple case, now becomes, by
this new turn of affairs, utterly inexplicable. It seems
to me, that for the present at least, this room, as a point
of departure, is an utter failure. Dr. Carew has sug-
gested that we lock and seal it for the time being, while
we search the surrounding premises, provided that meets
with your views and those of the officers," and he
stooped and picked up the vest from the floor and threw
it carelessly upon the desk. As he did so he noticed in
its shadow a folded bit of paper, upon which was a
tiny crimson stain. He looked more closely and observed,
to his amazement, that this stain was in the form of the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
183
mysterious hieroglyph. This was enough! He hastily
crumpled the paper in his hand and put it in his pocket
unobserved.
“ That suits me, so far as I am concerned,” said the
examiner. “There is nothing I can do, and so there's
not the slightest need of my hanging around here any
longer. If you find the body you can telephone me
again. What do you say, boys?” he asked, turning
to the officers.
“ It's the d- dest case I ever had anything to do
with,” replied the elder man. “I'm for bottling every-
thing up, as the gentleman says, and reporting to head-
quarters.”
“ That's me, too,” replied his companion.
“ Shall we say anything to those outside about the
disappearance of the body?” asked Maitland, as they
paused at the door while the examiner was unlocking it.
“ No; mum's the word for the present,” replied the
senior officer. “They'll find out soon enough."
“ By the way, you'll want paper and sealing-wax,"
said Maitland, as if the thought had just occurred to
him. “. They're both on the desk; I'll go get them,"
and he left them at the door and went back into the
room. He reached for the stick of sealing-wax with one
hand while with the other he deftly folded the vest into
a little wad and stuffed it into his pocket, covering the
whole movement with his body. Then he seized a few
sheets of blank paper, and, hastening back to the door,
left the room with the rest.
“We can strip this paper up and seal it to the door
and to the casing, unless somebody has some string,"
said Maitland when they were all in the hall and the
examiner had locked the door behind them.
“ Here's string, if you want it,” said the junior officer,
producing a little tangle of white twine.


184
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ That's just the thing," said Maitland. “Now we'll
put these across so, and seal them down. I have a seal-
ring and you”-addressing the senior officer " can
use the intaglio cameo, there, on your left hand,” say-
ing which he proceeded to seal a short section of string,
one end to the casing and the other to the door, pressing
his own ring into the wax at either end of the string:
Then he repeated the operation with another string,
applied to another portion of the door, except that, in
this case, he pressed the officer's cameo into both daubs
of wax.
And so he alternated them, until four strings and four
strips of paper had been applied, half of each being
sealed with Maitland's ring and the rest with the
officer's cameo.
This done, the examiner passed the key to the senior
officer. This functionary stationed himself at the head
of the stairs as the stockholders prepared to leave and
wrote down the name and address of each person who
passed him. Then with his brother-officer and the exam-
iner he departed to report at headquarters.
To say that George Maitland was utterly dumfounded
would be to convey but a tithe of the fact. He had, he
told himself, no sooner found, in the most unexpected,
the most disconcerting quarter,—the left forefinger
which had marked the corpse, than he had lost the
corpse which the left forefinger had marked. If the
discovery had horrified and pained him, the loss seemed,
so far as this sad affair was concerned, to unmoor all
his faculties and set his reason hopelessly adrift.


EPISODE FOURTH
The Corpus Delicti


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CHAPTER I
The human mind, being the evolved product of forces acting
in obedience to natural law, requires for its healthful maintenance
a perfect faith in the absolute supremacy of that law. Any
dogma, whether it call itself scientific or religious, which through
the intervention of caprice-Divine or human-weakens that
faith, can have but one effect,—the breaking down of the intellect
upon which the awful parasite fastens itself. The terrible prev-
alence of religious mania in our asylums is not altogether without
a retroactive significance. To the scientifically trained mind an
apparent break in Nature's uniformity is like a blow in the face.
For the nonce it stings the sensibilities and staggers the reason.
" WELL, Doc, what do you say? " were Maitland's first
words as he entered Dr. Willard's rooms on the eventful
evening of June thirteenth.
“I don't say, George," replied Dr. Willard gravely,
“ except that it's all dreadful,—very, very dreadful!”
Utter helplessness sometimes lends to strong characters
an air of flippancy, as if the very futility of all acts
gave them a devil-may-care indifference as to which one
they selected.
Some of the most horrent pages in history, sodden with
human blood, present luridly eloquent examples in
point.
George Maitland, who felt as if the very laws of mat-
ter had, in some mysterious way, been utterly set aside,
found his faculties drifting, as it were, among an
incoherent mass of wreckage, the flotsam and jetsam
of what he had but yesterday held to be incontestable
truths.
“ Did you, in all your experience, ever hear of any-
thing more utterly inexplicable?” he asked. “The
187


188 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
off goes chn White justanner in whicction with the
---
--
mere fact of Moreton's assassination is, as you say,
dreadful, but one can readily see how any one of his
many enemies might have accomplished it. The thing
that entirely flabbergasts me in connection with the
murder per se is the manner in which it was done.
Here is John White just about to seize Moreton, when
off goes a pistol, out go the lights, and down goes
Moreton with a dagger driven as accurately through
his heart as though a surgeon had carefully placed it
there in broad daylight! One doesn't need, of course,
to be told that the distance must have been measured
to a nicety and the blow neatly calculated before the
lights went out.”
“But even so," replied the doctor, “the mystery
remains as deep as ever, unless, indeed, you accept Dr.
Carew's theory that the pistol-shot was the signal by
which an accomplice notified his principal that the lights
were about to be cut off. I confess I can find no other
explanation which seems to me to have anything what-
ever in its favour.”
“ Well, don't let a little thing like that worry you,
Doc," Maitland replied. “ Just listen to me and I'll
give you a conundrum that'll last you for the rest of
your natural life, I fancy; only you must promise to
keep what I tell you an inviolable secret for the present.
To be frank, I shouldn't feel I had a right to tell even
you, were it not that I need your assistance."
“ I'll be as dumb as “Silence cut in alabaster,'” said
the doctor reassuringly.
“ All right then, prepare for a surprise," said Mait-
land. “You remember how we five, Dr. Carew, the
medical examiner, the two officers and I, went back into
the room to examine the body?”
“ Certainly.”
“ Well, it had disappeared!”
---
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e the bodicers and Dr. Carew


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
189
“ Impossible!”
“Precisely that; yet it was gone.”
“ But there are no windows and only the one door with
all of us waiting outside of it!”
“Quite so; yet the body was not to be found.”
“Nonsense! You should have searched the room.”
“So we should—and so we did.”
“ Somebody must have hidden the body in the
room!”
“ Indeed, and who, pray?"
66 The assassin or some accomplice, of course."
6 But the assassin left with us."
“ We don't know it, do we?”
“ Well, I should say so; we cleared the room.”
“Might he not have been hidden somewhere?”
“No; but suppose he were. How did he get out and
how did he get the dead body out? The corpse weighs
one hundred and sixty-five pounds if it does an ounce."
“He didn't get out. He concealed both himself and
the corpse right there. You should have ransacked
everything."
“ What, for instance?”
“I have it! The big wardrobe! That's the expla-
nation!”
“ Both doors were locked,” said Maitland, with a
smile.
“What of that?” the doctor replied. “The key was
doubtless on the person of the murdered man. The
assassin could easily have found it.”
“ In the dark?”
“You don't know that he was in the dark.”
“ He must have been precious near it, or some of us
would have seen the light under the door. You must
have seen our light, when we were in there."
“ Yes, I noticed it, but you had a big lamp. A small


190 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
candle would have been quite another matter. The ward-
robe's the solution of the mystery, you can bank
on it!"
“ Very well, then; we examined that thoroughly. It
contained only a seersucker coat and a clothes-brush.
What else?”
6 The desk!”
“ Took every drawer out of it, and even scrutinised
the skeleton frame. Try again!”
“ The letterpress stand!”
“ That little thing for a live man and a corpse! How-
ever, we lifted it. It didn't weigh over seventy-five
pounds. Once more.”
“ The ventilator slits in the wall.”
“ Three inches wide and thirty-six inches long. I
measured both of them. What next?”
“ I'm down to the supernatural and the fourth dimen-
sion of space," and the expression of Dr. Willard's
countenance indicated that he had, indeed, struck the
bedrock of his wits.
“And well you may be!" Maitland replied. “When
that burly ruffian disappeared from the shanty over
there in Jersey like a dematerialised spirit, it just about
disrupted my scientific faith in the consistencies of mun-
dane existence; and when Mr. Moreton told me of the
second disappearance of the same assailant,—this time
from the very house in which his wife was staying,MI
was all but ready to throw up the sponge. And now
Pelion is piled on Ossa! Not only do the murderers
themselves disappear like air-drawn figures, but they
must needs take their victim with them! It just gives
me goose-flesh to think of it! What are we 'up against,'
Doc?”
“Don't ask me, George; I can't fathom it!” replied
the other helplessly. “ In all these experiences the thing


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 191
tions ashich take accommoman slooctor.
that utterly staggers us is the apparent ease with which
the corporeal is made to take on incorporeality.”
“ I say, Ned, you know there are some who believe cer-
tain people possess the ability to render themselves invis-
ible. Do you suppose there can be anything in it?
There are thousands who think so," and Maitland
bestowed a quizzical look upon the doctor.
“George,” replied that gentleman slowly, “most heads
are hostelries for the accommodation of transients,
road-houses which take in whatever comes along, and
no questions asked.”
“ By Jove, Ned, that's so !” exclaimed Maitland. “ I've
got to find some explanation, though, consistent with
the fundamental attributes of matter,-I think I'll say
now the alleged fundamental attributes of matter,-or
I shall lose my twentieth-century scientific footing and
slip back more than twenty centuries into rank Pyrrhon-
ism. From doubting the evidence of one's senses to
doubting one's doubts is not such a very long stride,
you know. However, be that as it may, I'm not going
to have recourse to the supernatural until I have given
the natural every possible opportunity to prove its
sufficiency; and this leads me to my errand: I'm going
to see if a bloodhound can ascertain where that corpse
was taken to. I've the murdered man's vest for a
scent."
“ Which is more than it will be worth, George; for how
can a dog follow a trail over which a body was carried?"
asked Dr. Willard dubiously. “It seems to me what
you need is something belonging to the fellow who
removed the body; then the hound would have something
by which to track his quarry."
“ My dear Ned,” rejoined Maitland, laying his hand
playfully upon his friend's shoulder, “for specifying
ideal conditions you are, I assure you, quite the thing !


192 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
However, since the murderer, if there were but one, left
us neither his photograph nor his boots, we shall have
to do what we can with the dead man's vest.-Under-
stand, I don't expect much. Still, matter can't be
annihilated,—at least I used to think so,—and there's
more than one hundred and sixty-five pounds of what
was James Moreton to be accounted for. He was taken
from the building in some way, I don't pretend even
to guess how,—while we were in the hallway. We know
the assassin left the room with us when we went into the
hall, for I procured, at that time, or a little later, the
signature of every man who attended the meeting, with
the exception of the murdered president and his two
clerks, and we know these two clerks left the building
with you. It is clear, therefore, that the removal of the
body must have been the work of an accomplice, or of
accomplices. Dr. Carew's theory of a principal in the
room and an accessory without seems to be about the
only rational,-or rather let us say, the least irrational,
—view we can take of this mystery. The fact that the
murdered man not only had a dagger thrust through
his heart, but also had an ugly wound in his back
between the shoulders, leads me now to believe that there
must have been two assassins concerned in the actual
murder, and two weapons used.”
“I can't see the slightest reason for thinking this,”
said Dr. Willard, with a puzzled look.
“ Just consider these data for a moment,” George
replied. “One thrust pierced the heart and must, there-
fore, have caused instant death. This blow must have
been given last, if but one weapon were used, for the
dagger was left in the wound. It could not, of course,
have been removed and reinserted. Even assuming that
two weapons were used, it is all but certain this was the
first blow given."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
193
“I don't see why,” interjected the doctor.
" There are several reasons," the other continued. “I
will cite one or two of the more important. No blow
was given until the room was plunged in utter darkness.
Now, either wound would have proved fatal, and this
is the same as saying that they were both exceedingly
well placed, the front one of course ideally so. This
can only be accounted for, it seems to me, upon the
assumption that each thrust was carefully planned and
measured before the light was extinguished, and delivered
instantly thereafter. It is inconceivable to me that one
man could, in the dark, have inflicted the wound in the
back, and then have gotten around on the other side
of his victim and driven the weapon, with mathematical
accuracy, directly through his heart.”
“But might not the victim himself have turned as
soon as he felt the dagger in his back? ” asked the
doctor.
“ Ah! but don't you see,” Maitland exclaimed, “ that
we must not seek to account for the remarkable accuracy
of the heart-blow on the theory that it was planned and
measured before the light went out, and then assume
that conditions were so changed in the darkness as to
vitiate all the assassin's calculations? If we hold that
the victim moved in the least between the time the light
was extinguished and the dagger reached his heart, we
have left the marvellous precision of the blow entirely
out of the question.”
“I didn't think of that,” said the doctor.
“If you advance the idea of one assassin and two
daggers, maintaining that the heart-blow was given, the
weapon left in the wound, and that the murderer then
passed behind his victim and inflicted the second stab
in the back, I shall contend that his victim would have
fallen to the floor before he could have accomplished


194 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
enoug med in this affaimmediate proble
such a feat. He fell upon his back, so we know the
second wound was not inflicted while he lay upon the
floor. Again, the finger-marks upon the murdered man's
neck, taken in connection with the victim's cry for help,
show conclusively that the first attack was a frontal one,
and the nature of these imprints was such as to indicate
that the assailant must have held his victim at least
several seconds. I am not telling you quite all I know
about these finger-prints either. There are other things
which I might also mention, but I think I have said
enough to convince you that there were two principals
concerned in this affair.-However, that does not mate-
rially modify the immediate problem in hand, for
whether, as the German said, there were eleven or
three,' they all left the room with us, and all but you,
Gates, and Bertram remained in the hall outside until
the arrival of the medical examiner. I have, excepting
only Bertram and Gates, the names and addresses of
every man Jack of you,—yes, and of one Mrs. Jack,-
in this little book," and he exhibited the small diary
he had used for the signatures.
“Well, then, let's come down to the accomplice,” sug-
gested the doctor.
“We shall have to, if I am to answer your objection
in regard to the scent," Maitland rejoined. “I am
proceeding upon the assumption that if the body were
removed by one man, it was, in all probability, dragged
away, since it would have been too heavy for any ordi-
nary man otherwise to handle. If two men removed it, it
would still be found heavy, and they would have been
all but certain to have put it down occasionally to get
a fresh hold, if not to rest. In either of these cases
there is a chance for the dog. Are you ready? We can
discuss the matter further, as we proceed. I would like
to be on the ground by the time it is dark."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 195
“ Shall we need anything I have?” asked the doctor,
as he prepared to leave.
“Yes," replied his companion, "you might take your
little hand electric light along. We'll probably need it.”
The doctor put a cylindrical affair in his pocket and
the two men then left the apartment.


CHAPTER II
In criminology focal points of guilt must be found by a sort of
intersection of clues, even as the centre of a circle is located from
a portion of its circumference: wherefore, the astute detective
much prefers that his findings possess at least sufficient angular
divergence from one another to safely lift them out of the abor-
tive parallel.
It was quite dark when George Maitland and Dr. Wil-
lard reached No. 163 Lombrose Street, Jersey City.
The arc light in front of the rookery made the shadows
cast by the building so dense that the eye completely
lost itself in their taciturn depths. The two men led
the dog around to the little stairway-door at the side
of the shanty and gave him the scent. He put his
muzzle to the ground and immediately started off, mak-
ing straight for the street.
“ Just as. I expected,” said Maitland. “It's the trail
made by Moreton in coming to the meeting. Let's go
'round to the back and try him again.”
This plan was adopted, but without any profitable
result.
“ I'm afraid this counts as a failure, George,” said
Dr. Willard.
“ There's one more chance left," Maitland replied.
“We'll go out quite a bit along the trail he has already
discovered, and lead him in a big circle around the place.
If we intersect any other trail he will let us know it."
This plan they followed. When they reached a point
some little distance west of the rookery the dog struck
a scent and bounded off. He led them straight out
into the open lot at the back of the building. Maitland
196


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
197
Ma Ends the may have. Let's *
saw by the dog's action that there was no doubt about
the trail.
“He's got it, all right!” he said excitedly to the
doctor.
The dog had gone but a few hundred feet, however,
before he paused irresolutely, sniffing first the ground
and then the air.
“ Either the trail ends there or he's lost his scent!”
Maitland exclaimed.
“ Ends there! surely you don't think-
66 — They may have picked the body up here,” inter-
rupted Maitland. “Let's see if he can get the scent
farther along."
But, try as they might, they were unable to get the dog
to indicate any trail beyond the point at which he had
originally lost the scent.
“ Do you think it possible they could have buried the
body here?” asked the doctor, as they returned again
to the place where the hound stopped.
“Possibilities don't appear to cut any figure in this
case, Doc,” replied Maitland. “We're trying to explain
the impossible, aren't we? Well, then, why shouldn't
we look to the inconceivable for help?—Let's have your
lamp, till we see if the earth has been disturbed.”
He took the cylinder the doctor passed to him and care-
fully examined the ground.
6 There hasn't a pebble been turned over, that I can
see,—and certainly no one has recently dug here.
Hello, what's this?” and he held an old wine bottle up
to view. “Turpentine, as I'm a living sinner!” he
ejaculated, after applying his nose to it.
“ Turpentine! Are you sure of it?”
“Sure of it! Is there ever any doubt about turpen-
tine?” George replied. “ Wouldn't you think this
were the Darrow case, Doc? Of course, it may be just


198
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
a coincidence, but-well, it ends the dog. He can't
follow a trail obscured by turpentine, so we may as well
call the jig up, and depart in peace, as my big-jawed
assailant recommended, as soon as I drive a stake to
locate this place. I say, Ned, I can tell you something
about the effect of drugs that I'll wager you don't
know.”
“ Impossible!” exclaimed the doctor, as they sauntered
off. “I'll not believe it. What is it?”
“ The smell of turpentine sometimes so excites people
that they can't sleep o' nights.""
Long before the first mail on the morning of June
14th,—the day after the stockholders' meeting,—George
Maitland received by special delivery the following
typewritten letter:
“New York, June 13, 19–
“GEORGE MAITLAND, Esq.
“Sir: This opportunity is taken of informing you that in at-
tempting to ferret out the murderer or murderers of James Eld-
redge Moreton you are placing your own life in peril. You will
not be permitted to succeed. You are a marked man. Your every
movement is watched by one (if not more) whose scent is keener
than the hound you employed. The day on which you make any
real progress toward the solution of this riddle will be your dooms-
day. Your death will not be necessary to this plan of vengeance,
unless you make it so. Be warned, therefore, in time. Cease
your meddling and live;continue it, and nothing can save you.
“NEMESIS.”
To the left of the last word was the strange hieroglyph
with which Maitland was already so familiar.
He read and re-read the letter with scrupulous care
He dared not show it to his wife, as he knew it would
greatly alarm her. He did not in the least minimise to
himself the imminence of his own danger, but his self-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
199
respect would not for a moment brook the suggestion
that he let these anonymous threats alter his course “ in
the estimation of a hair.” He was considering what
crying urgency had led the writer to send his letter by
special delivery, when his wife entered the room.
“ Here are the morning papers, dear,” she said. “I
suppose you will want to see what they have to say about
the . Moreton mystery before you breakfast ? ”
“ Yes, if you don't mind, dear,” and he unfolded The
Herald and passed his eye hurriedly over the first page.
“ There's nothing new there. They haven't learned of
the disappearance of the body. All they say in connec-
tion with the examination is: 'Dr. Chalmers made a
careful inspection of the remains almost immediately
after the murder. He has made no report for publica-
tion. Hello! What's this?”
“ Most astounding development in the Moreton mystery. Thieves
rifle the dead man's Broad Street office and crack his safe
during the night. Indisputable evidence that both the mur-
der and the robbery were the work of the cleverest and most
desperate gang of crooks which has ever infested New York.
It is believed that someone enjoying the murdered financier's
confidence must have assisted in the robbery. The police look
for an early arrest, and most sensational developments may
be confidently expected, when the inevitable woman in the
case makes her appearance.--Police orders are now: 'cherchez
la femme.”
Maitland threw down the paper.
“ I shall have to forego breakfast, dear, and hurry
down to Broad Street! Good-bye!” and with a parting
kiss he hastened from the house.


CHAPTER III
To meet the man himself is not to know him. His real bioga
raphy is written by his ancestors before he is born, for natural
selection is but the compound interest of tendency.
The sight which greeted Maitland upon his entrance to
the Moreton offices in the Johnston Building literally
took away his breath. Confusion and destruction seemed
to vie with each other for first place. Books and
papers, torn, crumpled, and piled in wildest disorder,
littered the floors. The baize upon the fine large tables
was slit into shreds, while the leathern chair-backs and
bottoms had great pieces cut out of them,-pieces
shaped thus:
The pictures
upon the walls had their
frames wrench-
ed asunder and their can-
vases cut into
shreds, save in the case of
James Moreton's portrait. The marauders had cut the
eyes out of the face of this picture and pinned them
over the diamond studs in its shirt-bosom. The mirror
lay shattered upon the floor and every chair lacked an
arm, leg, back, or some other convenient or necessary
portion of its anatomy. Even the rugs upon the floor
had been cut, and the contents of ink bottles had been
poured upon them, upon the books and papers, and
thrown against the walls and fixtures.
The safe, which had stood in a recess in the corner,
had been moved out into the centre of the room. A
great hole yawned in the front near the combination
lock, and globules of molten metal were imbedded in
little charred recesses in the floor.
The two officers whom Maitland had met the day before

200


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
201
were among those engaged in examining the premises
when he arrived. Mr. Charles Bertram, pallid and
tremulous, was answering their questions.
“ Mr. Moreton,” he said, “ went to the Bank and to the
Trust Company just before the meeting yesterday, and
drew out a very large sum of money to cover a transac-
tion about which he had dictated a letter to me that very
morning. We had to hurry away to get ready for the
meeting, so he didn't go to the vault, but put the money
here in the safe, and locked it. I saw him put the bag
carefully in this compartment, close and lock this little
door, and put the key in his pocket. Then he swung to
the big door and locked that, after which we closed the
office for the day, and all left for the meeting.”
“ All left for the meeting? Was there anyone here
besides you and Mr. Moreton ? " asked James Sheehan,
the elder of the two officers Maitland had met at 163
Lombrose Street.
“ Yes; my assistant, Mr. Gates, was here."
“ Did he know of the money?"
“Oh! yes, sir; he saw it put in the safe, same as I
did.”
“ And where is he now? ”
“I don't know, sir; he has not come down yet. He
probably did not hear of the robbery as early as I did.”
“ You spoke of a letter dictated to you by Mr. More-
ton yesterday morning. You have a copy of it, I
suppose? ”
.“ I have the original, sir, if I can find it. I was to
hold it until we procured the express company's receipt
this morning."
Charles Bertram examined the debris upon the floor,
and finally unearthed the object of his search. “ There
it is, sir,” he said to Officer Sheehan, passing him a letter.
The officer took it and read as follows:


202
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
" New York, June 14, —
“MR. WILFRED TUTTLE,
“10% Dearborn St.,
“Chicago, Ill.
“DEAR SIR: I beg to acknowledge your favour of the 10th inst.,
stating the form in which you wish the Haswell remittance made.
“In compliance with your wishes, I am sending you, by Adams
Express, Four Hundred Nine Thousand Five Hundred Dollars
($409,500.00), being the amount received for Mrs. Haswell's se-
curities less my commission for selling same.
“Regretting that there should have been any misunderstanding
in this matter, I remain, dear sir,
“ Very truly yours,
“JAMES ELDREDGE MORETON.”
“ Were your relations with Mr. Moreton pleasant? "
Mr. Bertram's face turned a shade paler, but he replied
promptly:
“ Yes, sir, quite pleasant.”
“ Do you know how this robbery was first discov-
ered ? »
“I have read the newspaper report—the janitor
thought he smelled smoke and came in to investigate."
“ And then what?"
“ Two masked men seized him while a third pressed a
sponge to his face. When he came to himself he was
alone.”
“ Have you any theory as to why so many things were
wantonly injured ? "
“ No, sir; except that it seems to me it must have been
done for spite. I can see no other reason,” and “ Charlie
Bert” looked as if he were on the rack.
6 How do you think that safe was opened?"
“ I have no idea, sir; except that it looks as if a hole
had been blown in it by some powerful explosive.”
The officers glanced significantly at one another.
“ Did you ever see a hole blown in metal by an ex-
plosive?”
“ No, sir, never;—at least never before."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
203
“ Did you not observe that this metal had been melted
away? "
“ No, sir.”
“ Do you know anything about those electric wires,
there, outside the window."
“ No, sir; nothing."
“ Where do you live?”
" On Jerome Avenue, Harlem.”
“ Did you spend last night at home?”
The young man hesitated.
“ Not last night, no, sir. It was after twelve before I
got home.”
6 Where were you?”
“1-I was visiting ama lady.”
“ Where?”
66 On West Forty-eighth Street.”
“ Did anyone see you when you returned home?”
“No, sir. They were all asleep; I used my latchkey."
“ You say you were visiting a lady here on West Forty-
eighth Street? What is her name?”
It was some time before the young man replied.
“Her name is Eichberg—Miss Rachel Eichberg."
“ Rachel Eichberg!”
The exclamation came involuntarily from Maitland,
who had all this while been carefully examining the
room, and making notes in his memorandum book.
At the mention of Miss Eichberg's name the two officers
smiled and exchanged significant glances. Maitland at
once perceived that they had heard of the lady before.
He had been kneeling in front of the safe brushing
something from the floor on to a little slip of paper when
his involuntary exclamation had escaped him. He had
immediately arisen and now came forward.
“ If you do not mind, gentlemen, I would like to ask
Mr. Bertram a question or two."


204 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ As many as you like, Mr. Maitland,” replied one of
the officers affably.
“ You kept Mr. Moreton's books, did you not ?" Mait-
land began, addressing the clerk.
“ Yes, sir," replied Charles Bertram, as the colour again
left his face.
“ Have you and Mr. Moreton had any recent conversa-
tion in regard to these books?”
“ No, sir;—that is—he asked—just before his death
he asked me for a statement of some of his ac-
counts."
6 And you furnished it?"
“ Yes, sir.”
“Did Mr. Moreton comment upon it?"
6 No, sir; not to me.”
“ The books of account, I suppose, are still here?”
“ Yes, sir; that is they were last night.”
“Will you please satisfy yourself whether or not they
are here now?”
Again Mr. Bertram searched the debris upon the floor
while Maitland and the officers awaited the result of his
examination.
“ I'm bettin' he don't find 'em," said Officer Burke in
an undertone. “If he's one of the Eichberg's followers,
it's dollars to doughnuts there's queer entries in them
books."
“ If they are not here it will look rather bad for him,
eh? ” asked Officer Sheehan of Maitland.
George made no answer to this question, but said
instead:
“I picked up a little slip of paper yesterday that had
something upon it which I am confident pertains to the
case. It is typewritten, and I regard it as most impor-
tant, and think you should have a copy of it. I will
write it out for you.”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 205
“I reckon we'll need all we can get, eh, Burke? " said
the senior officer.
“ It looks so now," replied his companion.
Maitland went to the machine and wrote slowly,—so
slowly one could have counted every key pressed,—for
several minutes. Then he compared the copy carefully
with the original, drew a little design upon it with a red
pencil, folded it, and passed it to Officer Sheehan,
saying:
“You can peruse it at your leisure.”
The officer transferred the folded paper to his pocket
without opening it.
At this juncture Charles Bertram came forward with
a pile of books in his arms and said, to the evident
chagrin of Officer Burke:
“ They are all here, Mr. Maitland.”
“ Please see if any of the pages have been removed or
rendered illegible,” George requested.
After examining the books for some time, the clerk
replied:
“There are no mutilations, so far as I can see.”
“I am glad of that. I shall wish to examine these
books a little later;" and Maitland looked quickly at the
clerk.
He was unable, however, to see his face, for the young
man had just then let fall some of the books, and was
stooping to pick them up. In recovering the first lot,
he lost two others. He seemed experiencing some sort
of nervous shock, for he fumbled in a most unmistakable
manner in his attempts to pick up the fallen books.
6 Was it because of your acquaintance with Miss Eich-
berg that she became a stockholder in The International
Wireless ? "
“ Yes, sir. She had a little money and wanted to take
a 'flier' in stocks. I advised International Wireless."


206
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Did you ever meet Mr. John White previous to yes-
terday?"
“ Yes, sir, once; but not to know his name."
“ Where was that?”
Again a crimson wave suffused the young man's face.
“ I found him with Miss Eichberg a few evenings ago
when I called.”
“ And you did not learn his name?”
“ No, sir, I was not introduced, in fact,—well, there
was some little friction between us, and—and I came
away toto prevent a scene.”
“ Ah, I see! Was Mr. White fond of Miss Eich-
berg?”
“ He certainly acted as if he were !” and there was
unmistakable bitterness in the young man's tone.
“Do you know how he came to be Miss Eichberg's
proxy?”
“ No, sir; I know nothing whatever about him further
than I have already stated.”
“ Not even his business ? "
“ Not even his business."
“ Have you ever noticed, on the beardless portions of
his face, an elaborate, blue tracery?”
“ Yes, sir. It caught my attention the first time I saw
him.”
“ Did it lead you to conjecture anything concerning
his history, his antecedents, or his nationality? "
“ I thought he might be a sailor,—perhaps an Italian
sailor; for it was plain to be seen that he was not an
American.”
66 Will you kindly let me have the key to this little
fire-proof closet ? ”
“1-I haven't the key to that;—it was Mr. Moreton's
private closet and—and he never gave me a key
to it."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 207
“ Please lend me your key-ring; perhaps a key to some-
thing else may open this.”
Mr. Bertram seemed to Maitland to be very loath to
comply with this request, but he at length passed him
his bunch of keys. The very first one George tried
opened the door. The closet appeared to contain little
or nothing besides books and pamphlets. .
“Do you know what there is in here? ” Maitland con-
tinued.
“No, sir."
George now unwrapped the little slip of paper con-
taining the few shining silver-like grains mixed with
some darker powder which he had so recently scraped
from the floor, and held it open before Mr. Bertram.
“Do you know how this came upon the floor? ”
“No, sir.”
“ Is there anything like this used in connection with
the new telephone system,—say, in the coherer?”,
“ The new system has no coherer.”
“ Indeed! Sure enough. And you have never noticed
any of this about here before?”
“ Never, sir."
“ Thank you. I think that is all. You will please get
together and lock up all the office books so we may be
able to find them when needed. You will, of course,
preserve all papers, documents, etc., in fact every-
thing."
“ Certainly.”
“ You will wish to take charge of the room, I sup-
pose," said Maitland to the officers, who seemed unable
to conceal their impatience to be off.
“ Yes, we shall bottle everything up tight when we
leave.”
6 Then you had better collect the books now, I think,"
said Maitland to the clerk, “ as you will not be able to


208 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
have free access here after the officers leave, for several
days,-possibly longer.”
While Mr. Bertram was collecting the articles men-
tioned, Officer Sheehan said to Maitland in an under-
tone not intended for the clerk's ear:
“ That silver stuff—do you think that has any signifi-
cance whatever in this case? ”
“ If it's what I think it is, it certainly has,” replied
Maitland, in a low voice.
“ What! Isn't it silver, then? ” asked the officer.
“ I should say not, but I can't be positive just what it
is until I get back to my laboratory," returned Mait-
land.
“ And if it's what you think it is?" interposed Officer
Burke.
“ It will tell us how the safe was opened,” George
replied.
“We know that already," said Officer Sheehan.
“ Indeed?” There was unmistakable surprise in Mait-
land's tone.
“ Sure!” said Burke. “ One look at the thing tells
that; a hole was melted through the door."
“But how, how melted?” George asked.
“ How? There isn't but one way it could be melted,
short of an iron foundry,” said Officer Sheehan.
“ And that is ? " persisted Maitland.
“ By electricity," he answered. “ They just put one
pole on to the safe, touched the front with the other
pole, drew out an arc, and the juice did the rest.”
“ And how much current do you think this would
take?” George questioned.
“ No more than those wires out there would carry, I
reckon,” replied Sheehan.
“ Ah! you have examined them, of course, and found
where the shunt circuit was laid on?”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
209
“ Not we; we're trying to learn something we don't
already know.”
“ Well, if you'll call on me about two hours from date,"
said George, as he arose to depart, “I think I may be
able to oblige you,” and he left the office.
Officer Burke looked at Officer Sheehan with derision
writ large all over his broad, Celtic countenance.
“Huh! he didn't know how the safe was cracked!” he
said with a subdued guffaw.
“ And they call him a great sleuth over in Boston!”
replied Sheehan.
“Lord bless you! It's lucky he's from the Hub,
though!” exclaimed Burke.
“ Why? ” innocently asked the other.
66 'Cause otherwise he wouldn't know beans!” and
Officer Burke was all but convulsed with his own wit.
“I say, Jim,” he said, when he was at length able to
speak, “what's on the paper the sleuth attached so much
importance to, that he thought we ought to have a
copy of it?”
“I didn't look at it,” said Officer Sheehan, diving into
several pockets and finally producing a little paper
neatly folded. “ Read it out, Burke."
That worthy unfolded the paper and this is what he
saw:
A$187fFI 5hubs5 VK9;4g7fRKT“dF? 24EDxp,p, 9;cY QE5
p,$ry%eq P?9;BLMCW&9;qz3f ZQ5h be9;4g wEx MDwExqz5s
p,18?T BZ9;VKqz7f4g7kZBU$ wEx
6dj-vymt5hpi'DEwŨ?DŮP,5SAT f7d6l8wED?VJEP, f3
4aF19;ez5s (11f34g(115s?VQGP&AB9hp,wED6d 18ez f72dj-ABs5
5hbuf3 p,3fŽVEJFFI 9;SY 815hez MDDEwzes5 9r 8lze wED
BA9;F?f781V?7kDEwh5819;?V ;9YS h51Fs5 a4f3ezf73f6dV?
a4EDwp,p, 9;WH QE5 p,ry$qe% MK: RXg4DExa4 wEDx
RKR(1-19;h5tms5F?7kcqÎ'beg4;9.B 'Eubs5 h59;(Il 9;HW
7ftmålez II(3f4g1l(f3VKATSIAĎ9hp,DxEd6 f7;9 Ú$IFs5 v,J
K:m ta mK: BZ9;d6F?s56d ;9be 5hbus5 CM9h8lp, vwl8V?vy mK:
bHKs5DExcq7kd6s5 ctd69;BL 7ftmj-ze ZB9;4gF?f34g 9h(11
h5FI3f mtoj(119;7f5s?V7kcqT'' ,pqe% WHh5 i5 QGP&DUKm;


CHAPTER IV
There are a few things in this world which change their kind
in changing their degree. Thus does it occasionally happen, that
while a certain amount of a desirable article constitutes a pleasant
affluence, a superabundance thereof plunges its possessor into
virtual poverty. Blessings which speak too loudly have thus the
full force of curses.
“ I TELL you what it is, Ned, it's quite possible to have
too much of a good thing."
“ I admit the generality, George," replied the doctor,
“ but I don't quite see its application to the case we are
discussing."
“ You don't, eh? Well your defect of vision is easily
remedied. The great majority of cases which puzzle
the authorities owe their difficulty to lack of apparent
motive. You know how it was in the Darrow affair.
Well, in this Moreton mystery just the reverse is the
case. We have motive galore. Suppose now, someone
were to kill the Devil. Don't you see how hard it would
be to locate the assassin, just because so many would be
found to have good and sufficient motives! Where would
you begin to look in such a case?"
“Why, among the clergy, of course, you irreverent
rascal!” said the doctor, with a laugh.
“ Nonsense! Why, you wouldn't be any better on a
case than an ordinary policeman. Don't you know it's
the Devil's fires that keep the religious pot boiling?
But seriously, now, the death of his Satanic Majesty
would be extremely like the Moreton affair.”
“ You are not very complimentary to the dead," re-
joined the doctor.
210


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
211
“Maybe not,” George replied: “but facts have the
habit of siding with truth, despite all protests of senti-
ment, and I don't believe a villain becomes a saint just
by losing his animal heat. Mr. Moreton,—who, by the
way, enjoyed the soubriquet of ‘Dog Moreton,' was a
man who made a great many enemies. First: there is
Eric Montrose. I myself heard him give vent to some-
thing very like a threat. Moreton, when he was stricken
down, was just about to consummate, by the most out-
rageous trickery, an act which would spell ruin to Eric.
The murder was committed just in time to thwart this
nefarious scheme. There's a good motive right there.
Now take John White. He had quarrelled with More-
ton and was in the very act of advancing to assault him
when the lights went out. Of course, on the assumption
that the deed was long premeditated, White's quarrel,
since it was precipitated by Moreton himself just before
his death, could not be held to furnish a motive. If, on
the other hand, we could make ourselves believe that
which seems to me entirely out of the question, viz., that
the murder was the result of immediate anger, John
White's motive would be unquestionable. If now, White
did the deed as the result of premeditation, we have
some marvellous examples of coincidence for which to
account. Now take Mrs. Moreton-
“_Mrs. Moreton !” exclaimed the doctor, aghast at the
very thought; “ you surely do not propose to waste your
time suspecting that queenly woman.”
“Oho!But we're not engaged in the pleasant occupa-
tion of suspecting, Ned; we're just looking for possible
motive. You mustn't forget, however, that when it
does come to a question of suspicion, I know beyond a
peradventure whose hands left the imprints upon the
victim's throat- "
“ George! you don't mean "
"


212 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“_I don't mean, my dear Ned, to horrify you by telling
you the facts at this juncture," replied Maitland, with
no attempt to conceal the evasion. “ What I meant to say
is that Mrs. James Moreton did not live with her hus-
band. They had had conjugal difficulties, and the man
had sued for divorce, naming Elbert Reiss as co-respond-
ent. The trial was set for to-day. The plaintiff, you
see, was gotten rid of just in time to stop this suit.
Now I feel quite confident that two people were
immediately concerned in this murder, and here are two
who might be mutually interested. Understand, I say
"might,' I don't say that they were, or even that I think
they were. Again, I am morally certain that the
weapon which pierced James Moreton's heart was so
similar to the dagger in Reiss's picture as to be indis-
tinguishable from it at a very short distance. I know
that Mrs. Moreton and Reiss had had at least one private
interview upon an important matter, for I was at Reiss's
studio when the lady called and asked to see him alone.
More than this: I learned from Mr. Bertram that,
on the afternoon previous to the assassination, Mrs.
Moreton called upon her husband at his office. On this
occasion Mr. Moreton asked him to bring him his will,
which he had altered since his trouble began with his
wife. He spread it open before the lady, but she de-
clined to peruse it, and he read enough of it to her to
show her that she need hope for little or nothing from
it. I asked Mr. Bertram if there were any other will,
and he showed me a copy of one made just after his
employer's marriage. Apart from a few small family
bequests it was all my beloved Marie.' I questioned the
clerk also as to why his employer had recently altered
his will and why he had taken the pains to acquaint his
wife of the fact. He informed me that Mr. Moreton
had been convinced, by letters and otherwise, that his


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 213
life was in imminent danger, and that this fact had
induced him to attend closely both to his will and to his
life insurance policies. These latter had originally all
had Mrs. Moreton as a beneficiary, but he had recently
had them altered, too. I reminded him that he had not
told me why he thought Mr. Moreton had shown the new
will to his wife, and he said; 'Mr. Moreton was twice
assaulted, and the last time his assailant took refuge in
the house where his wife was staying. I have reason to
believe he thought her in some way connected with these
attempts upon his life, and wished to show her that their
success would not in the least help her purse.' ”
“ Did you see this new will? ” asked the doctor.
“No; that's the most significant part of it,” replied
Maitland. “ This will disappeared in the robbery. Let us
now consider Reiss as acting upon his own initiative.
What motive could he have? Naturally he does not feel
very pleasant over the disagreeable publicity to which
the divorce suit has subjected him. Then, you know what
you yourself witnessed at the little supper at the
Waldorf. Besides this I was present at a quarrel
between Moreton and Reiss in which the former did his
best to kill the artist. On this occasion Reiss made a
contingent threat upon Moreton's life, so that the evi-
dence of bad-blood-or hatred amounting to virulence —
is not to be gainsaid. You know, doubtless, that More-
ton was deeply infatuated with Miss Sherwood; while
Reiss is madly in love with her. Murder has been done
many a time before with far less motive. Then we have
Mr. Charles Bertram and his assistant, Mr. Gates, to
consider.”
“What possible motive could they have for killing the
man who gave them employment? ” questioned the
doctor.
“Let me tell you a few things I have heard about Ber-


214
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
with Mia Quite as hardi game o putation
tram, and then see if you cannot answer your own
question,” replied Maitland. “He is a good deal more
than just a clerk, let me assure you. I am told that he
has great surgical skill, enjoys quite a local reputation
as a 'strong man,' and plays a superb game of chess.
His keeping of Moreton's books was hardly more than an
incident, it would seem. Quite a while ago he began
keeping company with Miss Rachel Eichberg, familiarly
called by the police "The Eichberg.' This woman's
tastes are notoriously extravagant, and she had ruined
many a man before she met young Bertram. Well, a
bookkeeper's salary didn't go far with 'The Eichberg,'
so 'Charlie Bert, as his friends call him, began dabbling
in stocks, and a little later he indulged in the question-
able habit of borrowing his employer's money and pay-
ing it back with false entries. I've spent but a few
hours on his books, yet I've already found defalcations
amounting to thousands of dollars. Goodness only
knows what the expert accountant will unearth! Now,
add to this that Mr. Moreton, according to Bertram's
own admission, asked for a statement of his financial
status just before his death, and interesting questions
--
-
eplie Bert, as his atter he indulged in ney and pay-
--
-
“ And this song in one's mingand interestir
“ And this sort of thing has been going on for some
time? ” asked Dr. Willard.
“ Yes; and that leads me to a most significant fact,"
Maitland replied. “The date of the first threatening
letter received by Mr. Moreton is sensibly coincident
with the first of the false entries,-it varies but a few
days. Of course it may be merely a coincidence, but
it's worthy of notice.”
“ By the way, George, have you still those letters?”
asked the doctor.
“ Yes, I have everything entrusted to me by Mr. More-
ton,” replied Maitland." You see I broke with him but


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
215
a few minutes before he died, so that I was unable to
return any of the documents to him. I think now, I
shall keep them, so long as I am likely to need them in
the case. By the way, Doc, you are so fond of chess
problems that I thought I'd bring you this. If you can
solve it you'll be greater than Steinitz, Zukertort,
Morphy, Neumann, Staunton, Blackburne, or any of the
masters of chess about whom I used to read when a boy.
I found it upon the floor at the meeting, and the figure
in red catching my eye, I at once thought the assassin
might have dropped it. I'll loan it to you long enough
for you to copy it, but don't for the life of you let it out
of your hands, as something tells me the thing is very
important. I copied it for the officers yesterday, and
this morning when I spoke of it to Dr. Carew, he asked
for a copy, which I gave him, so this time I'll let you
pick away at it yourself," and he passed the paper to
his companion.
“ Thanks,” replied the doctor, pocketing the little
slip. “Hold on a minute, George,” he continued, as
Maitland rose to depart. “I want to ask you why you
didn't examine the rest of that old rookery over there in
Jersey."
“I don't see why you should think that necessary,"
Maitland replied. “ If Mr. Moreton had been murdered
in some gambling-hell, or in some place to which the
assassins might previously have had free access, one
might be suspicious of everything. However, we
searched that shanty inch by inch, simply because I
couldn't believe that a corpse, weighing over 165 pounds,
could possibly be taken from a room, unless there were
some hole big enough for its passage; so when we all left
163 just after the murder, I went directly to police
headquarters with Sheehan and Burke. As soon as they
had reported we engaged a locksmith, took each a lan-
in some might previou of everything imply bec
couse hole big er the murderand Burke,


216
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
tern, and went back to the rookery. We stripped the
linoleum from the floor and examined every board with
minute care. We found nothing whatever in the least
suspicious, and so spread the linoleum back in its place.
We moved the wardrobe away from the wall as far as the
railing would permit, and even took down the pictures,
and removed the narrow ventilator castings; and then all
three of us went over everything, lantern in hand. I
examined every inch of that wall with the selfsame care
I had bestowed upon the floor. Its flat, light tint made
the search both easy and sure. It was as innocent of
deception as a new-born babe. We went through the
same moves with the ceiling, even, but with no better
result. Well, to make a long story short, we went out
into the hall, resealed the door as before, and with the
assistance of the locksmith we ransacked every nook and
corner of the rest of the building with the same
thoroughness. I felt all but sure our search would be
profitless, yet I did not permit that conviction to inter-
fere with its thoroughness.”
“ And you found nothing out of the way?" asked the
doctor.
“ Not a thing which was not as far above suspicion as
Cæsar's wife," Maitland replied. “I even climbed the
electric light pole and examined the leads of the trans-
former. Then I remembered seeing a voltmeter and
other testing instruments in Mr. Montrose's laboratory,
and I got them and tested the line out from the trans-
former to the very lamps in the office,—which meant
resealing the room for the third time, much to Burke's
disgust.”
“ And what did you learn?”
“ That's the most singular part of it, Ned,” replied
his companion. “Everything was just as straight as a
string, except that the fuse was blown at the meter. I


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 217
put in a bit of copper wire, and everything lighted up
as bright as ever. So that does away with the idea that
the circuit was cut near the transformer. I tell you,
Ned, this case beats anything I ever heard of. You feel
sure you have discovered something one minute, and the
next minute something else bobs up with which you can't
possibly reconcile it. I know whose hands were on the
murdered man's throat and I think I'm making great
progress, when, all of a sudden, somebody else steals the
corpse and knocks all my theories into a cocked hat. In
this affair, all roads, instead of leading to Rome, seem to
lead right straight up into the air. I think I'll go home
and take a look into “ Isis Unveiled. I've always thought
that unscientific enough to meet any conceivable
occasion, and here's a good chance to try it. If it can
make rhyme or reason out of the Moreton muddle, I'll
get a guru and join the Eastern cult, astral body, karma
rupa and all-if they'll let me sail into Nirvana in their
boat, and not throw me overboard on account of my
superabundant tanha,” saying which he bade good-bye
to his friend and made his way home.
lead right stretoads, instead ories into a casa se steals the


CHAPTER V
When a great crime has been committed the suspicions of of-
ficialdom become like unto a dog with the rabies,-ready to snap
at anything within its reach. In the great majority of cases this
course is unproductive of any valuable results, yet there are now
and then occasions when, to the surprise of everybody, including
the official dogs themselves, the quarry is thus fanged in a way
which, to sober thought, trenches upon the miraculous.
The next day Elbert Reiss was arrested on suspicion of
being implicated in the murder of James Eldredge
Moreton. Reiss had waited upon the officers and volun-
teered to go over to Jersey City in order that extradi-
tion proceedings might be dispensed with.
Eric, in sore distress, went straight to Maitland, who
had not heard of this new turn of affairs. The arrest
had been made upon information of Officers Sheehan
and Burke, and these two worthies, jealous of Mait-
land, had determined not to take him into their confi-
dence. They did not wish him present at the examina-
tion, and he on his part had the very best of reasons
for objecting to testify at this particular juncture.
Elbert Reiss was his friend, and he had no desire to
add a single straw's gloom to the shadow which enveloped
him.
At the examination of Reiss much“ fishing” was
indulged in; and, as usual, a great multitude of ques-
tions asked in the vain hope that they might elicit
something of importance. It is not necessary to repeat
this inconsequent testimony here. The more significant
portions of the examination were as follows, all formal-
ities being omitted:
218


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
219
Q. Were you acquainted with the murdered man?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Intimately?
A. No, sir.
Q. Were your relations pleasant?
A. No, sir.
Q. State in what way they were unpleasant.
A. We quarrelled on several occasions.
Q. Just what do you mean by “ quarrelled ”? Do you
mean that you came to blows, or merely that you had
an altercation ?
A. We came to blows. On one occasion he attempted
my life.
Q. How?
A. He assaulted me with a dagger.
Q. And you?
A. I disarmed him.
(The magistrate then held a vest up to Reiss's
view.)
Q. Is that your vest?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did you have it on when the murder was com-
mitted?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. What are these little red stains here upon the right
side?
A. I do not know. I have never noticed any.
Q. Are they not blood-stains ?
A. I could not say. I have never noticed them.
(The vest was then passed to him.)
Q. Examine them and tell me what you think.
A. I have nothing from which to form an opinion
except their appearance; they look like blood-stains.
Q. Could they be paint stains gotten on during your
work?


220 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
A. I think not, sir. I have never worn that vest while
painting.
Q. Can you think of any way in which blood-stains
might have gotten there?
A. No, sir.
Q. How near were you to Mr. Moreton when he was
stabbed ?
A. I could not say definitely. When the light went
out I may have been some six feet or so from him.
Q. Have you cut yourself recently, say, in shaving,
or otherwise?
A. Not to my knowledge. Certainly, not while wear-
ing this vest, for I have not worn it except on that one
occasion for months.
Q. You have testified that you had nothing whatever
to do with this murder. Have you any suspicions,-
any theory as to who the guilty party may be?
A. None whatever, further than that there must have
been several concerned.
Q. Indeed! Why? why several?
A. The nature of the wounds was such that one could
not have inflicted them, and there must have been an
accomplice outside who cut off the lights.
Q. What was the cause of your quarrels with Mr.
Moreton ?
A. I would prefer not to answer that question.
Q. Are you aware that your refusal to do so will tell
against you?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. And you still refuse?
A. Yes, sir. I do not care to inflict upon another the
unpleasant publicity I am obliged to endure.
Q. But, surely, the gravity of the charges preferred
against you would warrant your disclosing anything
which might help your case.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
221
(The magistrate spoke very kindly.)
A. The charges have no terror for me. The truth
will prevail in the end,-and, if not, it doesn't matter
much!
(The bitterness of this last remark deeply impressed
the magistrate.)
Q. Have you recently suffered any loss or affliction?
A. Yes, sir; a very great loss.
Q. Was the murdered man in any way connected with
this loss?
A. Yes, sir; intimately.
Q. Was the loss of a pecuniary nature?
A. No, sir.
Q. What then was its nature?
A. I decline to state.
Q. For the reasons already given?
A. For the reasons already given.
(The magistrate then held up the blood-stained
dagger.)
Q. Did you ever see that weapon before?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. When?
A. On the afternoon of June 13th current.
Q. Where?
A. At No. 163 Lombrose Street.
Q. Did you ever see it previous to that time?
A. I cannot say.
Q. You painted a picture of Romeo and Juliet. In
this, Romeo wears a dagger with a peculiar hilt. Was
that imaginary, or did you have a weapon for a model?
A. I had a weapon for a model.
Q. Does this dagger suggest the one you used for a
model?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Is it not the same dagger?


222 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
A. I do not know, sir.
Q. Did you not take a weapon like this to the stock-
holders' meeting?
A. No, sir.
Q. Did you take any weapon?
A. No, sir.
Q. Please examine this weapon closely, and see if you
can say it is not the one you used as a model.
A. (Examining the dagger) I recognise nothing
about it different from the one I painted.
Q. After your picture was finished what became of the
dagger you used as a model?
A. It remained in my studio.
Q. Where is it now?
A. So far as I know, it is there now,- if this be not
it.
Q. You say, “ if this be not it.” You think this is the
same weapon, do you not?
A. It seems as if it must be, the pattern is so unusual.
Q. Did you ever know of any other weapon like this?
A. No, sir.
Q. And the one you painted. How did you come by
it?
A. It was a present, sir.
Q. From whom?
A. I do not care to state.
Q. For the same reasons as before?
A. Yes, sir, if that be sufficient.
(The magistrate smiled and forebore, from motives of
his own, to press this issue, even as he had forborne to
press the others.)
Q. If the dagger you painted be still in your studio
you could, I suppose, readily find it?
A. Yes, sir, I think so.
The other witnesses, with the exception of one, added


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
223
little or nothing to Reiss's own testimony, the straight-
forwardness of which most favourably impressed the
magistrate. This particular witness referred to was Pro-
fessor Emile Lorraine, who had been called to give expert
testimony upon the blood-stains. He said that the
stains were unquestionably blood-stains, but posi-
tively declined to definitely testify that the blood was
human blood. He was sure, however, that the stains
were not more than three or four days old when he
examined them.
Apart from motive, opportunity, the blood-stains and
the weapon, there was absolutely nothing against the
artist brought out in any of the testimony. At first
thought this would seem to have been quite sufficient to
cause him to be held for the grand jury; but when due
weight was given to the facts that motive is by no means
conclusive of guilt; that Reiss was only one of many
who had an equally good opportunity for the deed, and
that the blood-stains found upon his clothes might
easily be animal, everything seemed to hang upon the
dagger.
This, at all events, is the view the magistrate took of
the matter, and he, accordingly, directed that an officer
should accompany Reiss to his studio, to see if he could
find the dagger he had used in painting his picture.


CHAPTER VI
That stench in the nostrils of reason known as legal precedent
defeats justice, on the one hand, while on the other it renders the
lawyer's brain mushy, his morals punky, and afflicts the groaning
land with a veritable locust-scourge of pettifoggers. In some
such wise as this lay error, like disease, sets up its kingdom in us,
and arrogates the right of self-defence. When we have given
entertainment to a falsehood, we need not be surprised if our
guest proceed to make himself very much at home, and absolutely
refuse peacefully to depart the premises.
The news of James Moreton's murder, as detailed in the
press, coming to Miss Sherwood as it did on the very
day of Reiss's terrible misunderstanding, was a second
great shock to her. As soon as she had regained con-
sciousness Lenore had told her all that had transpired
after her lover had thrown her from him. The news of
James Moreton's assassination had found her still in
tears, despite every soothing influence which Lenore
could summon to her aid.
When the news of Reiss's arrest reached her it seemed
as if her cup of sorrow were indeed more than full. She
read, with greedy interest, all that the papers contained
concerning the case, and when she learned from them
that it was expected the dagger,-her dagger!would
be the most convincing bit of evidence against him, it
seemed as if her fortitude must break under the weight
of this, its last straw.
This was Miss Sherwood's first experience with news-
paper reports of murder cases, and she did not know that
it was customary to try suspects in the newspapers be-
fore the more regularly ordained but sluggish engines
of justice could be mobilised. For this reason things
looked even blacker to her than they were.
224


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 225
She would have been glad to fly to her lover's rescue
could she have seen any way to help him. She consid-
ered attempting to visit him in his confinement, but the
thought of the reception she might expect at the hands
of the man who believed her guilty of wantonly lacerat-
ing his tenderest emotions deterred her. When the day
set for the examination arrived, however, she could not
rest. It seemed as if her own soul were on the rack.
When she could endure it no longer, she rushed out
upon the street and hastened to her lover's studio, to
exchange her fears for Eric's dreads. She had seen
Eric since the arrest, but she had not told him of that
last quarrel between Moreton and Reiss which formed
the ground-tone, the dominant pulse, of her fear; and
she so longed to confide it to someone who loved her love,
and would understand what it all meant to her. Con-
fidence is a flower which buds in many climes, but opens
fully in nothing but a congenial atmosphere. Such an
atmosphere she knew she would find in Eric's love of
Reiss. Then, too, she would take that other dagger,-
so like unto Romeo's that few would ever spontaneously
detect the difference: she would give it to Eric, and if
the worst came to pass, what might it not do toward sav-
ing her lover? Never for a moment did she doubt his
innocence, but she believed, from what she had read, that
everyone else considered his guilt a foregone conclusion;
for this was the first trial by newspaper she had ever
attended. If the worst came she would beg her lover to
produce this second weapon as Romeo's dagger,-if
the worst came! Better a falsehood than an innocent
life!
Thus it came to pass that while Elbert Reiss and the
officer were at the studio, Marion Sherwood entered,
fully expecting to find only Eric there.
“Good-afternoon, Miss Sherwood,” said Reiss, with a


226
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
cold formality of action and of tone that cut her like
a blade of ice.
“ Good-afternoon,” she responded, as the tears sprang
to her eyes. “May—may I see you alone for a few
moments? I—I have something I want to say, that
that I can't just say before another!” and she looked
appealingly toward the officer.
" I'm afraid not, Miss Sherwood,” replied Reiss, with
a show of indifference which, do his best, he could not
feel. “I have been permitted to come here in the cus-
tody of this gentleman to look for a dagger. Naturally,
he will not care to let me out of his sight,” and he
turned away and renewed his search.
Marion, in mute dismay, the great tears coursing down
her cheeks, held out her hands toward the officer in silent
supplication.
She was very, very beautiful. He was very, very
human.
“ See here, sir,” he said to Reiss as he pushed open the
door to the inner room. “I guess the lady won't steal
you, and if she does she can't get you out except by
this door, unless she drops you into the street, so I guess
I'll trust you. Mebbe it's a bit irregular, Miss," he
said to the grateful Marion, “but I reckon we ain't
exactly in ‘ Rooshia.'”
“ You are very kind, sir!” she said, with a look that
left her words far behind. “ I'll not be long," and she
entered the room followed by Reiss, who closed the door
after him. He stood with his back against it, cold,
gloomy, austere; and waited for her to begin the inter-
view.
For a long time she paused unable to find the thin edge
of the conversational wedge. At length she said:
“I cannot tell you how shocked I was to learn that
anyone should seek to connect you with this crime.”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
227
“ Miss Sherwood honours me beyond my humble deserts
to bestow upon me any thought whatever," he said, with
quiet irony.
6 Oh, you do not understand!” she exclaimed, unable to
restrain her feelings.
“ That line was mine!” he said bitterly.
“ What do you mean by that? Do you think I am act-
ing a part ? ” she asked, with sudden intensity.
6 A gentleman may not always say what he thinks to a
lady,” he said in low, measured tones.
« Oh, that is not fair! Please, please answer! Do
you think I am saying what I do not feel—that I am
playing a part ? ”
“ It does not matter what I think. You act so well
you would deceive those far more coldly critical than I
could ever be."
“ Then you do think so!” she replied quickly. “You
think Mr. Moreton "
“ Stop! Let the dead rest!”
“Oh! will you not listen to me?”
“ I have already listened to you to my everlasting sor-
row. Is not that enough?”
“Oh, you do not understand!”
“My line again! We shall have to restudy our parts.”
“But cannot you see? Look at me! am I not in
earnest?”
6 Doubtless,-dramatically!”
“ Oh! why will you not let me explain?"
“ Because there is nothing to explain. If it is that for
which you wish to see me, I beg you will excuse me.
Everything was explained to me most fully at our last
interview. I shall remember it without a repetition, I
assure you!”
“ And you will not permit me to justify myself in your
earDoub why there is see
eyes ? »


228 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ No; let God be your judge, not me.”
. For some moments the woman's sobs choked her further
utterance. The man waited silent and imperturbable.
When she had regained command of her voice, she said in
a low, spiritless tone:
“ I know, of course, that you are innocent of the crime
they would fasten upon you, but circumstances are
against you. I learned from the cuts in the newspaper
that the dagger used was indeed the one I gave you.
For this reason you will not find it here: your search
will be fruitless. But see!” and she held up a dagger;
“ here is another weapon so closely resembling your own
that the authorities will never discover the difference. I
beseech you, take this back to them as your dagger!”
and she held the weapon toward him.
For a moment a shade of perplexity crossed the man's
face. Then he said:
“ I am quite at a loss to understand this singular inter-
est in my behalf. The weapon would undoubtedly pass
for the one you gave me, and set me free. I thank you
for your interest, but I must decline to accept of the
help you offer. I have no right to ask anything of you,
and I shall make no false statements.”
“ Not even to attain the ends of justice? ” she said im-
ploringly.
“ No; not even to save my life! The reward would not
repay the sacrifice. If you will excuse me, I will return
to my custodian,” and he opened the door and bowed
himself formally out of the room.
The woman sank into a chair and wept till long after
the officer and his charge had left. It was Eric Mont-
rose who finally aroused her.
.
The next morning Reiss's examination was resumed.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 229
The magistrate again questioned Officer Sheehan in
part as follows:
Q. The matter of the ownership of this dagger is of
vital importance. You have expressed yourself as cer-
tain that this weapon belongs to Mr. Reiss. Upon what
do you base that assurance?
A. Upon the minute accuracy with which it is repre-
sented in the picture of Romeo and Juliet.
Q. Is there anything else that leads you to that con-
viction?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. What?
A. The prisoner's admission that he had a weapon indis-
tinguishable from this, coupled with the singular unique-
ness of the thing.
Q. How do you know the weapon is unique? Have you
made any attempt to find others like it?
A. Yes, sir; we have made diligent search.
Q. And found nothing at all resembling this weapon?
A. Nothing accessible to the prisoner.
Q. What do you mean by that?
A. The police department in Washington notified us
that they had a similar weapon. We went there and
compared the two. They were absolutely identical in
appearance, so far as we could see. Nowhere else, how-
ever, could we find a weapon in the least like this one.
Q. Why didn't you tell me all this before?
(The magistrate spoke with unmistakable sternness.)
A. We did not think it pertinent to the case, since this
Washington weapon was so clearly inaccessible to the
assassin, having been in the police archives there for
more than a quarter of a century.
Q. What! How came it there?
A. It was the weapon which killed the senior James
Eldredge Moreton more than twenty-five years ago.
that the police ale pnean by the prisoner


230 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Q. And I have to drag all this out of you with a
corkscrew! You have given your testimony with a view
to maintaining your own convictions, rather than of
arriving at the truth. Do you know any other similar-
ities between these two strange crimes ?
A. They were both committed on the 13th of June,
your Honour.
(Sheehan said this somewhat sheepishly.)
Q. And you were going to keep all this to yourself!
(The magistrate spoke very sharply.) Did you not
know that a similar crime occurring twenty-five years
ago, upon the same day of the year, in the same family,
and committed with a weapon indistinguishable from
this one, was evidence of the utmost importance?
A. We—it was—1—I did not so regard it.
Q. Indeed! Maybe you regarded these two murders
occurring a quarter of a century apart as a mere coin-
cidence.
The magistrate made no attempt to conceal his dis-
pleasure. At this juncture a man entered the room and
whispered something to him, and he said:
“ Let her come in.”
A moment later Marion Sherwood entered.
Elbert Reiss started at sight of her, and then arose
quickly as if about to protest. Officer Burke laid his
hand upon the artist's arm and he forbore to speak.
“If you please, sir," Marion said, addressing the
magistrate, “I would like to tell what I know about Mr.
Reiss's dagger."
The magistrate looked at the beautiful young woman
with almost fatherly tenderness and said:
“ We will listen to whatever you have to say, but first
tell me am I not addressing Miss Marion Sherwood, the
actress ? "
“Yes, sir;" she said, blushing.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
231
“ You may proceed with any communication you desire
to make,” and the magistrate leaned back in his chair
prepared to listen.
“ There is but little I have to say,” she began, slowly.
“ The picture of Romeo and Juliet was painted for my
manager, Mr. Wilkes. I posed for the Juliet and my
leading man was the model for the Romeo. The dagger
he wore I furnished. After the picture was finished I
gave the weapon to the artist as a keepsake. The papers
have had so much to say about this being the only
weapon of its kind in existence that I feared a grave
injustice might be done an innocent man unless you
knew that there was at least one other very, very like
it.”
She paused a moment to see if she were to receive any
encouragement.
“ We have just learned of that other weapon," replied
the magistrate. “It was not accessible to the assassin,
still it proves a plurality of such weapons, and that is a
very material point. You refer, of course, to the one
in Washington?”
“ No, sir," Marion replied. “I refer to the one here,”
and she laid a dagger upon the table before the aston-
ished magistrate. He seized it and examined it minutely.
Officers Sheehan and Burke were both dumfounded and
crestfallen at this turn of affairs. Elbert Reiss seemed
the least affected of them all. He viewed the whole
affair with stoical, Germanesque indifference. When
the magistrate looked up a marked change had come
over his countenance.
“Mr. Reiss,” he said, addressing the artist, “ you
have refused to answer certain questions. You declined
to state who gave you your dagger. This, Miss Sher-
wood has answered. You also spoke of a great loss, the
nature of which you declined to state, and of quar-


232
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
relling with Mr. Moreton over something you refused
to specify. Let me ask you now if this lady were not
in some way,-never mind what,-connected with all of
these refusals.”
6 Yes, sir,” said Reiss, without exhibiting the slightest
interest.
“I thought so!” said the magistrate half aloud. Then
he turned to Officers Sheehan and Burke and said:
“ This third weapon decides me. The daggers, you
see, are, so to speak, quite common. I find the evidence
entirely insufficient to warrant me in holding this gen-
tleman for the grand jury. Mr. Reiss, you are dis-
charged!”


CHAPTER VII
The material of life's cord is savagery; civilisation is but the
manner of its twisting. From the coarse, loosely-wound, double
fibre, with scarcely more integrity than a rope of sand, to the
lariat woven of infinity expressed in spider-filaments, and capable
of throwing its comprehending noose about the remotest star, is
indeed a far cry; yet the ineffable difference lies hidden in a mere
handful of thinking matter. Standing upon the shore of a
fathomless psychic sea whose phenomena roll in upon us wave
after wave in long perspective, where is the Canute among us
who dare utter the defiant dogma: “ Thus far shalt thou go and
no farther"?
LEFT to himself, a man is prone to acquire the orbital
habit,—a sort of merry-go-round in grey matter,—as
profitless, so far as new pastures are concerned, as that
similar feline folie circulaire (if the alienist will loan
us the phrase),—a cat's pursuit of its own tail. Every
true friend and companion, however, becomes as it were,
a new gravitational centre, out of which flow tangential
influences permuting our egocentricity into myriad al-
trocentric forms, virgin, fascinating and profitable.
Maitland placed a high value upon his relations with
his friend, Dr. Willard, not only from the standpoint of
sentiment, but also from that of intellectual profit.
Calling upon him one afternoon,-it was upon the day
Elbert Reiss was discharged,—Maitland's greeting was
as follows:
“ Ned, I'm as full of gossip as a sewing-circle, and as
tired of work as a tramp. Did your brain ever strike
for eight hours, and then demand overtime for thinking?
That's about the condition in my thought-works, and
the pity of it is I can't retaliate because I can't find
anything to lock out.”
“What have you there? " the doctor asked, as Mait-
land drew a paper from his pocket; “ another one of
233


234 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
those crazy-quilt, typewriter rebuses? If so, put it back,
if you want me to remain clothed and in my right mind.
Ever since you gave me that other thing,—that cryp-
togram, if that's what it is, I've had visions of such
groups of letters as would make even a Russian sneeze
his head off. I've eaten from a keyboard; slept between
parentheses; drank a whole lower case of alphabetical
intoxicants over a space bar, and, as might be expected,
dreamt exclamation points, and arisen with my intel-
lectual upper case so horribly pied that the good wife
has forbade my matutinal ninety degrees of apple
tart,' as John Bull would call it. Wherefore, I con-
jure you, by- "
6_Hold on, Doc! I can prove an alibi,” interjected
Proin my home
Maitland. “This thing I have in my hand is no crypto-
cute
gram, but is as straight English as you talk; yes,
straighter, you matutinal pie-eater, you! Listen to it.
“Nelson, New Zealand, May 1, 194
“ DEAR BROTHER: I have just learned that a terrible danger
menaces you, and I hasten to acquaint you with it, in order that
you may be on your guard. I must not now take time to go into
any particulars, or to offer you any explanation. Suffice it to say
that a plot of some years' standing has been confided to me by
one who felt that he owed me a great debt of gratitude.
“Something like half a century ago father was here in New
Zealand, and acquired,-never mind how,—the deadly enmity of
the Mohakakas, a tribe of Maoris. As a result, they swore not
only to kill him, but to stamp out the name of Moreton so far as
our branch of the family is concerned, or rather to prevent its
extension. After killing father, they were to watch any male chil-
dren he might leave, not molesting them unless they should
marry, in which case, they, too, were to be summarily disposed
of. It was upon the thirteenth day of June that our father en-
countered the deadly enmity of these Maoris, which accounts for
his assassination on that selfsame day of the year. You remem-
ber the figure upon the dagger which killed father,--it was
shaped like this:
That is some sort of a badge of fel-
lowship among
those who are leagued against us,
and is the re-
sult of some mystical rite or incan-
tation. I warn
you to shun it as you would the Evil
One; for wher-
ever you see it, it spells death to


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 235
you! Beware, also, of the thirteenth day of June, for these
Maoris believe that no vengeance will be quite complete unless it
fall upon the anniversary of the original offence. Cæsar had his
ides of March, you have your thirteenth of June. Do not make
the mistake of thinking your assailants will be ignorant, heavily
tattooed savages,-far from it !- They will be cultured gentlemen
speaking English with fluent ease, and you will only know they are
not Americans by their dark skin and delicate facial traceries.
“Some of the most eloquent and able members of the New
Zealand Parliament are full-blooded Maoris, so you must not
make the mistake of despising your enemies. Be ever on your
guard, James; and remember our father's fate! One thing more.
The most dangerous and active spirit of this vendetta left here,
so my informant told me, under the assumed name of John White.
The name is very common one, but you will recognise this man
easily. He is very dark, something over sixty years of age, and
of herculean frame. He left here immediately after your mar-
riage with Hortense.
“And now once more let me caution you to use the utmost care
in all things, and at all times, but most
particularly in
regard to three points, to wit:
“(1) Anybody or anything associated,
even in the re-
motest way, with this figure:
“ (2) The thirteenth of June.
“ (3) A large, dark man calling
himself •John
White
“Say nothing of all this to Mother or Lucia; it would only
worry them. I shall write more fully a little later.
“ And now good-bye, and God guard you! Write often. I
shall tremble till I know you are safely past June thirteenth.
“With much love, I remain
“Your affectionate brother,
“ ADRIAN.
“P. S. Nothing new at the mines.—Do be careful, James!”
“ Now what do you say to that, Ned?” asked Mait-
land, as he finished reading.
The doctor did not reply for a moment, then he said:
“I say you had better ask John White that question."
“ It does look a bit black for White, if you can
imagine such a thing,-doesn't it? Oh, we're getting
on!” and Maitland looked as if a ray of light had at
last pierced the darkness. “You see, this letter was
written more than a year ago, and I suppose the fact
that Moreton safely passed one June thirteenth after


236 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
receiving its warning lulled him into a false sense of
security. Observe how nicely all this corroborates the
discovery Adrian has made. Oh, White's a very inter-
esting personage just now!”
“Shall you ask for his arrest? ” queried the doctor.
“How can I?” said Maitland, spreading out his
hands helplessly. “How can I ask for the arrest of
a man on the ground that he actually committed a
crime when I am not able even to tell how he might
have done it, to say nothing of how he actually did do
it? That would be worthy of Sheehan and Burke.
However, I find Mr. White just now a personage of
engrossing interest, and shall cultivate his acquaint-
ance sedulously. I have his address, and I know he is
there,—at least he was when I verified all the addresses,
a day or two ago."
“By the way, speaking of Sheehan and Burke, have
they seen this letter? " the doctor asked.
“Oh! yes," replied his companion. “I found it
among the debris • Charlie Bert' gathered from the
floor after the robbery, and filed away for me."
“ And what did Sheehan and Burke say to it?" ques-
tioned Dr. Willard.
“ They didn't say much,” George rejoined, “but, they
looked unutterable wisdom at each other, and I wouldn't
be surprised if there were a warrant out for White inside
of twenty-four hours. But that isn't all I've got to
show you, Doc. I've a strange letter from a lady-I
mean a letter from a strange lady.-Egad! I think
they're both a bit strange! Listen:
опе
.
• DEAR SIR: I have a communication from the Unseen of great
importance to you. You are in a quandary, and your Guardian
Spirit would assist you. Something has mysteriously disap-
peared,—the Spirit and I can help you to find it. Private sitting
by appointment only.
ut Yours in the Light,
«« « MADAME DUVAL
" "Mr. George Maitland.""


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH 237
“Humph! Madame Duval, the spiritualistic medium!
I thought they'd driven her out of business long ago,"
said the doctor. “ I've heard it said she sometimes hits
things pretty pat, though. By the way, George,” he
continued, “ did you find that other letter promised
by Moreton's brother?”
“Yes,” Maitland replied; "it merely confirmed and
emphasised what he previously had written, and related
how he had come to learn it. I'll tell you all about it
when I have more time. I've an appointment with
Madame Duval in half an hour, and I want you to come
with me.”
“Nothing would suit me better. There'll be no cappers
in this, I suppose. It's private, isn't it?"
“ Strictly," Maitland replied; “ and I'll warrant you
in advance that I'm not on the books of any medium in
the world; so the Madame will have to rely upon her-
self to ascertain my spiritual guide,—you needn't smile
at the idea of my having celestial direction; it's very
far from being ridiculous,—the names of my 'tall lady
in black ’; old gentleman with blue eyes and grey
hair'; and little girl with long hair and a short dress ';
for this will be my first appearance at any spiritual-
istic seance, public or private.-Come on!”


CHAPTER VIII
The unknown is the night which follows every day, and all
paths lead into it. In its unfathomable darkness every quest
Ioses itself at last. Its language is silence, and its voice the mute
music of eternity.
MADAME DUVAL's apartments were neatly and tastefully
furnished. Everything bore evidence of culture and
refinement, with the single exception of a very poorly
executed portrait of herself as a “ seventh daughter"
surrounded by what the artist had intended for spiritual
communicants.
The entrance of the Madame showed the visitors a
large, fine-looking woman with light blue eyes, an
abundance of brown hair, and a tendency to adiposity.
There was a certain something about her manner which
would have attracted attention almost anywhere. She
might have been fifty or even fifty-five years of age.
“ You are Mr. Maitland, are you not ? " she said, turn-
ing to George. “And the other gentleman,” she con-
tinued, closing her eyes, “is your friend-Will-
Willard, Dr. Willard, I should say, yes, Dr. Edward
Willard. It is Mr. Maitland who wishes Madame
Duval's help. Please take this chair by the table, my
dear.”
The Madame called everyone “ my dear,” irrespective
quite of age, condition or sex.
« There now," she went on; “I shall see what the dear
friends on the other side have for you. There is some-
thing of importance, I am sure, for they have so beset
me, so urged me to send for you, that I have been utterly
238


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH 289
unable to do anything for anyone else, so you see, my
dear, I wrote you, as it were, in self-defence; you were
quite ruining my business.—There, I feel the influence,
and I shall write for you," saying which the Madame
seized paper and pencil and closed her eyes.
After a few moments her pencil began to make erratic
and formless scrawls upon the paper. These quickly
changed to an open, jagged, all but totally illegible
hand, written with nervous, jerky movements, which
Maitland, unable to see the penciled record, tried in
vain to translate.
It was some minutes after the writing ceased before
the Madame spoke. Her effort seemed completely to
have exhausted her, and she remained for quite a while
with closed eyes. When at length she opened them, she
gazed absently about the room as if trying, as it were,
to “get her bearings "; then her glance fell upon Mait-
land and she said:
“ Ah, yes; it was for you, my dear! Now I remem-
ber," and she held the paper toward him. He reached
out to take it, but, as if a second thought had struck
her, she withdrew and folded it.
“My fee for private sittings like this is five dollars,
my dear,” and she again held out her hand, but this
time without the paper.
Maitland paid her the money without comment, and
she handed him the paper, saying:
.“ It's not very legible, my dear, but you'll be able to
pick it out with a little study. It's a great relief to
me to be rid of the communication, whatever it may be,”
and she sighed as if she had just put down a heavy
burden.
“ Then you do not know what you write?" Maitland
said to her.
“No, my dear; I never have the remotest idea of what


240
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
they give me when I'm in a trance. If the message is
for me, I do not get it till it is all over and I read what
I have written."
The two men, after glancing at the paper and satis-
fying themselves that it was a thing to be translated
rather than read, suppressed their curiosity until they
reached Dr. Willard's home, when they spread the docu-
ment out between them and somewhat laboriously picked
out the following:
“My spirit feels the torment of my body, which is rapidly being
consumed. I cannot rest. They have buried me in a white heli
whose invisible flames have already licked the flesh from my bones.
Take pity on my wicked soul! I may not tell my murderers'
names, because they meted out to me no more than I deserved.
You wonder where they have hidden my body. Follow my direc-
tions and you shall find all that is left of it. Go to 163 Lombrose
Street. Measure off upon the ground, in the exact plane of the
western wall of the building, one hundred sixty feet in a northerly
direction. Connect the outermost end of this line with the north-
eastern corner of the building. Starting at this corner lay off
thirteen feet along this connecting line, and mark the spot, for
there lies buried all that is left of my body! If you have pity
for the wicked, oh, make haste to disinter it!”
“Why should a man's spirit be restless just because
something is happening to his body? " asked the doctor
incredulously. “Ow! Ow! Stop it!” he continued,
dancing about as his companion made two or three little
jabs at him with a pin. “Why are you sticking that
into me?"
“I wanted to see if your spirit would be restless just
because something was happening to your body,"
Maitland replied, with an assumed scientific interest.
“ You're a vil-scientist !” retorted his companion,
with a grimace.
“Um! maybe so; but you haven't told me yet what
you think of the Madame,” replied his companion.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 241
" I'll wait, if you don;t mind, till I see what you
unearth over there in Jersey," discreetly answered the
doctor.
“ You won't have to wait long if you accompany me,
for I shall be on the ground fully equipped and ready
to excavate as soon as dark,” said Maitland.
“ And I shall be with you, George,” replied the doctor.
“Ned,” said Maitland gravely, as he laid a hand upon
his friend's shoulder; “ you've been a mighty good
friend to me, and I appreciate it more than I can easily
tell you; but I must not let you forget that, in keeping
so close to me, you are incurring a grave danger. Be
warned in time. These are neither boys nor amateurs
with whom we are playing. The fellows who cracked
that safe are right up to date scientifically; and in
pretty much everything else they have done they appear
to be a long way ahead of the game. We must not
underestimate the gravity of their threat. Is it not
wise, therefore, that you forego this little expedition ? "
“ And let you go alone? I rather guess not !” ex-
claimed his companion.
“ If you persist in incurring this danger for my sake,
Ned, go armed. I deeply appreciate your kind solici-
tude, and—and I'll call for your on my way over to
Jersey," saying which he: bastily left his companion,
in order not to betray all the etnotion he felt.
e order not ying whichal Forppreciat


CHAPTER IX
The grave should forever shut its lips upon the last word of
life's 'message. To'force a repetition of even a single syllable
to pry, as it were, the clinched jaws open, and seek to quicken
the coldly ignorant tongue into any sort of confession whatso
ever, is an act which creates within us an inexpressible abysmal
horror for which the imagination can find no words.
Just back of the northeast corner of 163 Lombrose
Street, Jersey City, are two men busily digging in the
earth. It is ten o'clock at night, and they work dili-
gently and quietly in the heavy shadow of the building.
Both men have dark-lanterns, but they use them spar-
ingly, and in a way to attract no attention. Suddenly
one of the men stops digging, stoops down, and picks
up something from the ground.
5 It's quicklime, Ned, as I'm a living sinner! "I'll
take the ghost's word for a thousand pound'! We
must dig carefully now, and have a light all the time.
Here; you manage the lanterns and let me do the dige
ging," and he passes his lantern to his companion.
“ Hold on, George, there's a bone! Let me see it!
It's a human bone and has been recently clothed with
flesh. The Madame is a wonder!”
“ Queen Elizabeth was a Tudor," replies the man with
the spade, all but the more volatile part of his mind
thoroughly absorbed by his work.
“I think we had best go no farther without notifying
the authorities that we have found the body of the
murdered man. They will probably want to see it as
it is exhumed," says Dr. Willard, the man with the
lanterns.
242


244 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
know where the body is; though, for the life o' me, I
don't see how it's going to be the slightest help in jug-
ging the assassins, unless they were fools enough to
leave some clew here,—which is about as likely as a
July snow-storm. Let me see what it looks like," and
he gazes into the hole only to stagger back the next
instant. “ Phew! How the devil can you stand that
stench?”
“ I've been eating Limburger, so I don't notice it,”
replies Maitland, laughing. “ Shall I dig, or do you
want to come down in here yourselves ? " and he lays
his spade upon the edge of the hole, as if about to
spring out of it.
“It's your find, and I reckon you're entitled to all
there is in it,” replies Sheehan quickly. “I dare say
Burke, being of a meddlesome disposition, will want to
do a bit of the digging, eh, Terry?"
“If I do any diggin' here, it'll be diggin' out,' I can
tell you that! Phew! It smells to heaven! Go on, Mr.
Maitland. As my pot-bellied friend has remarked, to
the victor belongs the spoils, and if this thing ain't
a spoil, it will be if you keep it a bit longer,-unless
my smeller' deceives me," saying which Officer Burke
steps back a few paces and awaits results. As each
thing of interest is unearthed both he and Officer Shee-
han come forward and examine it.
“ Look at this !” says Maitland, holding up a gold
watch and fob chain, the former bearing the monogram
“ J. E. M.” “ Here's Mr. Moreton's watch, worth two
hundred, if it is a cent. The assassins might have had
that for the taking, yet they left it. How does that
fit into the theory that robbery was the motive? And
see here! here are both his rings upon the bones of the
left hand. Those stones never cost less than a thousand
dollars. If robbery had been the motive, wouldn't the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
245
murderers have made sure of these, even if they had
been obliged to take the fingers with them?”
Sheehan and Burke exchange “knowing” glances and
then the latter replies flippantly:
“ Have ye ever heard of the mummy that was pressed
for time?” and he winks his introverted left eye in the
darkness, from sheer force of habit.
“ Yes, but that was in another case," replies Mait-
land, good-humouredly. “ See, here is his key-chain,"
he continues, holding up that article. “ These are just
bones. See here, Ned,” he says to Dr. Willard, “ there's
the backbone, fairly well intact,--but look, man, the
skull is missing!”
“ Probably you'll find it lower down, George," replies
the doctor.
“I doubt it, Ned,” Maitland answers. “At any rate,
if they could stop to cut the head off they might have
found time to remove a watch from a fob-pocket, if
robbery were their motive. Even a mummy would have
known enough for that, eh, Mr. Burke?”
“ Mebbe so, but they do say mummies is forgetful,”
retorts that gentleman sententiously.
“ Here's his pen-knife, and—hold on!” Maitland ex-
claims, stooping down into the hole, “ this thing all
wadded up here must be the coat. If so, it's clear they
didn't stop to put it on the corpse again.”
“Mebbe these mummies was pressed for time, after all,
eh? ” says Burke triumphantly.
“But, my dear fellow," Maitland retorts, “ you for-
get that when mummies are pressed for time they are
more than ever careful about their wraps.”
In a few moments Maitland brings to light the remains
of a pocket-book containing fifty-three dollars in bills,
and, a little later, Mr. Moreton's beautiful diamond
stud. There are portions of the grave which are rela-


246 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
ve free from the limund.
considerable time hud
tively free from the lime, and it is in one of these that the
coat and wallet are found.
The digging continues for a considerable time in
silence, broken only by the sound of the spade, the thud
of the gravel as it is thrown out of the hole, and the
click of the bones as each new accession is placed upon
the little pile at Maitland's right. It is a weird and
gruesome spectacle.
“ I'm down to hard-pan, gentlemen,” says Maitland at
length, " and there's no skull here. The head has been
removed! What do you make of that?” he continues,
addressing both Sheehan and Burke at once.
“ What do you think of it?" discreetly replies
Sheehan.
“ I think the assassins had a use for that head,” says
Maitland quietly.
“ A use for a dead man's head!” ejaculates Sheehan.
“Who's any use for a dead-head!” interjects Burke.
“Quit your unseemly levity," says Sheehan to his com-
panion, and then, turning to Maitland, he continues,
“What possible use could the assassins have for a dead
man's head?”
“ When there are so many live heads, like my friend's
here, that are no good, neither!” interposes Burke.
Maitland throws a sidelong glance at Willard and
replies: “You have asked for a possible use.' Have
you ever read of the head-hunting Dyaks of Borneo ?
They believe that every person whose head they secure
in this world will be their slave in the next. Their
standing, even in life, is determined by the number of
heads they have secured, and no self-respecting Dyak
maiden would ever think of marrying a youth who could
not boast at least one head beside his own.”
“_That's all very interesting, as they say, from an
academic standpoint,” retorts Sheehan, “but, if I


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
247
haven't forgotten my map, Borneo is a good bit off my
beat.”
“Never ye mind that, Sheehan, ye've been off it before
many a time!” laughs Burke.
“ You asked for a possible use for such a head,"
says Maitland, with apparent solemnity. “I named
you one. Don't you think any Dyak would be proud
of such a personage as Mr. James Moreton for his slave
throughout eternity ?—But it's getting late, and these
bones ought to be cleansed and cared for before the lime
finishes them, too. Do you know how to attend to
them, or shall I have the whole business taken to my
laboratory where everything can be seen to prop-
erly? "
“ You'd better take them," · replies Sheehan, with
alacrity, for the proposition removes a great weight
from his mind. “You're a specialist on such things,
and you're on the case, which makes it all regular, eh,
Terry?”
“Sure!” laconically replies that functionary, adding
in an aside to Sheehan, spoken from behind his hand,
“We wouldn't either of us know what to do with so
much as the wish-bone!”
The Herald next morning contained the following
display of scare headlines :
“ A GRUESOME FIND !
“ ASTONISHING DEVELOPMENT IN THE MORETON MYSTERY. MR.
GEORGE MAITLAND, THE Boston DETECTIVE, FINDS THE HEAD-
LESS REMAINS OF THE MURDERED MAN BURIED IN QUICKLIME
IN THE REAR OF THE VERY BUILDING IN WHICH THE MURDER
WAS COMMITTED !
« THE VICTIM'S WATCH AND CHAIN, Two VALUABLE RINGS, A
DIAMOND STUD, PEN-KNIFE, AND FIFTY-THREE DOLLARS IN
MONEY Also UNEARTHED.
“AUTHORITIES Now CONVINCED THAT ROBBERY COULD NOT HAVE
BEEN THE MOTIVE FOR THE MURDER.”


248 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
It was nearly noon when Dr. Willard joined Maitland
at his laboratory. They had worked over the remains
until far past midnight, and the doctor had felt the
need of lying abed much later than was his custom.
Maitland, however, had arisen betimes, and had made
an important call and done much work while his friend
still slept.
“ Well, you've done a deal of work, George, since I
left you," said the doctor, glancing around as he entered
the laboratory. “How is everything? All right?”
“ Yes, but I don't know how long it will stay so,"
replied Maitland. “Something's brewing; I feel it in
my bones. By the way, let me show you what I found
clinging to one of the other bones," and with a pair of
tweezers he laid a hair upon a little slip of paper.
“No! No! Don't touch it!” he exclaimed as the doctor
was about to pick it up. “Look all you want to, but
don't handle. Here! look through this," and he placed
the object under his microscope.
“ As I live, it's a hair from the missing head!”
exclaimed the doctor; “ and—and there's blood upon
the lower end of it where it seems to have been broken
or cut off.”
6 Well, which? " asked Maitland.
“Cut, I should say, but with a dull instrument,” his
companion replied.
“ Good for you!” and Maitland patted him approv-
ingly upon the shoulder. “It's rather a small lock of .
hair for a keepsake, but we'll just hang on to it with
the utmost care, for all that. I have everything neatly .
cleaned, classified, marked, and put away for future
reference, besides which I've made a most important
call.”
“ Indeed? " said the doctor.
“ Yes; so I regard it. Let me explain a bit,” said


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 249
Maitland, seating himself upon the edge of a table.
“ James Moreton's head was severed from his body and
taken away by someone. Now, apart from Adrian
Moreton's letters to his brother, I know of nothing,
except the finger-marks on the victim's throat, which
so directly casts suspicion upon anyone as this does
upon John White, about whom, by the way, I have
recently learned quite a little. He is a member of Miss
Sherwood's company, and I found his fellow-actors
quite communicative."
“For heaven's sake, George, what do you mean? I
don't see the slightest connection between the missing
head and John White's guilt!” exclaimed the doctor
in amazement.
“ Listen! I've only a minute or two before I must be
out of this, so I'll be brief,” said Maitland hurriedly.
“ You are probably not aware that John White is a
Maori, but he is. Now, it is an old Maori custom to
cut off and preserve, by baking, the heads of their
enemies. There's scarcely a first-class museum in the
world that hasn't at least one genuine New Zealand
head. The British Museum has them galore. Since
civilisation corrupted the Maori with the love of gold,
there has been quite a thriving traffic carried on in this
gruesome commodity, slaves being occasionally tattooed
and beheaded, and their heads sold for a good price.
Now, I take it, John White would want James More-
ton's head to bake for two reasons: First, because the
indignity to the corpse would make his revenge more
complete; and second, in order that he might have
something to take home as voucher that he had really
discharged the commission laid upon him.”
“That seems to me good reasoning, George,” said the
doctor in a voice which betrayed keen excitement.
“Now, I visited White at his lodgings this morning


250 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
upon rather a flimsy pretext,” continued Maitland.
“ However, it worked, and that's the main point. The
servant evidently took me for an intimate friend, and
sent me right up to his room. When I knocked, I sup-
pose White mistook me for the servant, for he shouted
Come ?! and I entered. He stood before his bureau
shaving, with his undershirt open at the throat. When
he saw my reflection in the glass, he buttoned his shirt
quickly, but not quickly enough to prevent my seeing a
little red figure upon the upper part of his chest. Ned,
it was the selfsame heiroglyph we have encountered so
often ! He did not know I had seen it, and talked with-
out the least apparent restraint, shaving all the while;
for I had begged him to finish, as I wanted all the time
I could get to look about. Well, I noticed when he put
his shaving-kit away that he did not put it in the
bureau drawer, but took it to his trunk, close by where
I sat. You know how keen my scent is? Well, sir, the
moment he opened that trunk and took out a little,
greasy cigar-box, in order to place his shaving-kit
under it, I smelled again not only the odour I had noticed
in the shanty to which Moreton and I tracked our
assailant, but also the entirely distinct odour I had
detected on the burly ruffian's person. There was no
mistaking either of them. They were the self same
odours, and they came from John White's trunk! Now
you see why I'm in a hurry. I am convinced by his acts,
and the look of his room, that Mr. White is about to
shift his ground. He has, of course, read by this time
that Mr. Moreton's remains have been discovered,
with the exception of the head, and, if we do not mis-
judge him, he will naturally desire to escape with his
horrible trophy while opportunity is allowed him. I
should have told you that Sheehan and Burke expect
by noon to have a warrant out for his arrest. If they
you the look ond. He has ins have been we do noth his


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 251
don't move quickly they won't find him," and Maitland
glanced hastily at his watch and then added, “and
neither will I. Good-bye, Ned! I hate to rush off in
this unceremonious fashion, but it will never do for me
to lose my head, you know,—and I've a strong con-
viction it's in John White's trunk. Good-bye, again!
I'll see you later," and without more ado he rushed from
the laboratory.
Late that night Dr. Willard received the following
telegram:
“ Lost my head. Am on its track. Must have it. Shall follow
to end earth if necessary. Don't worry.
“ GEORGE."





EPISODE FIFTH
The Feast of the Long White Pig





CHAPTER I
The human personal equation, being expressed in indeterminate
quantities, we are ever prone to assign to it any values which may
happen to exhibit equality, quite oblivious of the fact that the
chances are as ten to one that our values are fictitious on the one
hand, and the further fact, on the other hand, that in the realm
of psychology not quantity but quality is the determining factor
of all equations.
DR. HENRY FORSYTHE CAREW sat, pen in hand, at his
office desk with a newly written letter spread before
him. He read it through carefully, paused a moment,
and then added his signature with a rapid flourish. It is
an unpleasant task to chronicle for the afflicted the grim
triumphs of death, and the cloud upon the physician's
fine face told only too plainly how little he relished the
business before him.
The letter ran as follows:
“ New York, June 97, 19
“ MR. ADRIAN CANOVA MORETON,
“ Nelson, New Zealand.
“ DEAR MR. MORETON: In the absence of your mother and
sister abroad, a most painful duty has fallen upon me. It is
with the sincerest sympathy that I transmit to you tidings which I
know will fill you with the deepest sorrow.
“On the thirteenth instant your brother James passed away
under circumstances peculiarly tragic,-in short, he met death as
the victim of unknown assassins while presiding at a meeting of
The International Wireless Telephone Company.
“ It will doubtless be a source of great comfort to you to know
that his death was instantaneous, and that it must, therefore, have
been all but totally painless. All was over before he had time to
suffer. I was present at the time and removed from the wound
the dagger which killed him. It bore upon its blade the mysterious
figure which you mentioned, a year or more ago, in your letters
to your brother; and this, in connection with your warning, seems
255


256
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
to me to indicate in what direction justice should look, though
all the authorities do not share my views.
“We have not been able, after several days spent in search, to
find the address of your mother and sister, though it is doubtless
somewhere among your brother's papers, and this must explain
why, at this late day, the duty devolves upon me of sending you
this sad information.
“Your brother's will names you as his executor, and I sincerely
hope you may be able to come here without unnecessary delay, as
I am told his affairs sorely need your immediate attention.
“Pardon me for mentioning, at such a time as this, a somewhat
delicate matter with which possibly you may not be acquainted.
It is necessary you should know it, in order that you may the
more fully realise the urgent need of your presence.
“Your brother instituted divorce proceedings against his wife
shortly before his death, and the trial was almost at hand when he
was murdered. You will see, therefore, that in these trying cir-
cumstances you cannot look to his wife for quite the same as-
sistance you would expect under ordinary conditions. The more
need, therefore, of your presence on the ground.
“We shall, of course, send the sad tidings to your mother and
sister, as soon as we can ascertain their address. Might I suggest
that you notify them if you know their whereabouts, since we may
not be able to communicate with them for an indefinite period?
“I reserve all the particulars of your sad bereavement against
your arrival.—You will be better able then to consider the matter
without undue suffering.
“Trusting that you can join me in the belief that all is for the
best, I remain, with profound sympathy,
“Very sincerely yours,
“ HENRY FORSYTHE CAREW."
Henry Forsythe Carew was a man of rare parts. He
possessed a mind of more than ordinary brilliancy, and
a heart that was tender to a fault. His failings,-for
the best of us are not absolutely perfect, leaned to
virtue's side and were, more often than not, the result
of over-sensitiveness. He could not bear to inflict pain
upon anyone, which led him on more than one occasion
to say and do agreeable things when harsh ones would
have had a far more salutary effect. This tendency
grew out of, and at the same time reflexly augmented, a
slight defect of will. He might have written the letter


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
257
before him a full week sooner, but he had put off the
disagreeable task from day to day, with the fatal tend-
ency common to so many of us, to keep our bugbears
before us, where we must constantly see them, instead
of behind us, where we may readily forget them. In this
way he often kept his sensitive soul, for long periods, in
a state of constant horripilation. At length, however,
the thing was done and lay before him ready for the
mail.
The disagreeable task was accomplished, and Dr. Carew
closed the incident with a sigh of relief, as he placed
the letter in his inside breast pocket and left the
room.
It was some weeks after the mailing of Dr. Carew's
letter before Dr. Willard received any further word
from Maitland. On one hot summer morning, however,
the long-looked-for word at last came. It ran as
follows:
“MY DEAR Doc: I haven't found my head yet, so you needn't
marvel if this is neither coherent nor brilliant. Arrived in San
Francisco just soon enough to be too late,' as the Irishman said,
and so took the first steamer for New Zealand. We are staying
over for a day, at Honolulu, and I am utilising part of the time
to indite this scrawl.
“If you ever go to California, Doc, take the northern route.
The mountain scenery is inexpressibly grand.
“But I must tell you the news! I am disguising myself as an
Englishman, long resident in New Zealand;-in short, Doc, I'm
going to be a pakeha Maori. I keep in the sun as much as
possible, and am really getting quite brown, and it isn't all due
to the stain I'm using either. And my whiskers, oh, Doc! I'd
give good money if you could see these mutton-chops! They are
beginning to stick out so I can feel the wind blow through them,
and they're just as soft as-as bunches of excelsior! I'm letting
my hair grow long and parting it in the middle,—which everyone
should do who hasn't a well-balanced head-try it if you don't
believe me,--and I'm doing a hydrogen peroxide bleach that would


258 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
turn a chorus-girl green with envy, if not with bleach! You
really ought to see me done into sunlight tints! My own wife
wouldn't know me. I tried to learn to use a monocle but con-
cluded that a manacle would be more in my line. I have the walk
• down fine,' and have exchanged my 'Yankee twang' for the
beautiful catarrhal vocalisation of the London fog. I am pains-
takingly careless of my 'h's'; can say 'military' without seeming
to refer to a sister of Ellen Terry; can pronounce literary,
secretary' and 'dictionary' so there's only the faintest 'smell’
more than three syllables in each; and can say 'different to'with-
out the tremor of an eyelash-my excelsior whiskers are too wiry
to be affected by anything I have thus far tried. To-morrow,
when we get well out to sea I'm going to see if I can get them
used to "unfrequent. If that don't take the curl out of them,
I shall learn to say 'directly' for 'as soon as' and to substitute
by auction' and 'by private sale' for our more common ‘at
auction' and 'at private sale. If John White can see through
such a wonderful disguise as this, it'll be because two heads are
better than one, eh?-I will not explain it!
“By the way, how are our official friends coming on with the
Moreton mystery? Have they arrested Mrs. Moreton yet?-Oh,
I say, Doc, about those finger-prints on the murdered man's
throat! I promised, if memory serve me, to tell you at some
future time, whose hands made them-and I shall certainly do so,
if my life be spared till then.
“ By the way, I want once more to urge upon you the necessity
of solving that most practical riddle which was propounded to
both of us on the afternoon of June 13th. How did the mur-
derers of James Eldredge Moreton-for it seems to me there
must have been at least two of them-leave the room and take
the body of their victim with them while we were all standing in
the hallway? I am confident that they did not go out through
the ceiling, the floor, or any one of the four walls, unless they
were invisible beings and made use of the door passing through
our very midst.—' Nonsense!' you say, and I agree with you. It
is inconceivable that such a thing could occur in that lighted
hallway,-unless, indeed, they had some magical way of render-
ing themselves invisible--and neither you nor I can make ourselves
believe that those perceived uniformities of action which we de-
nominate natural laws' have been so violated in this especial in-
stance. What then? They must have passed out in the direction
of the fourth dimension.-Now laugh That's the regulation
thing with the scientifically unregenerate!
“But permit me to inform you that Huxley didn't see any-
thing funny in the theory of four-dimensional space; Gauss and
Lobatchewski aren't doing any laughing over it; and the Royal
Institution isn't indulging in any undue persiflage upon the sub-
ject. You will find very serious references to it in Nature,' Mr.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
259
Doctor, so pray don't overwork your risibilities. Aut Cæsar aut
nihil,-it's either that or nothing, it seems to me. The murder was
committed in a receptacle having six sides, and the corpse was re-
moved therefrom without going through any one of those sides,
unless, as I said before, it were taken out through the door in the
presence, and under the very noses, of all of us; and you and I
wouldn't believe that if we were paid for it.
“Now, the n-dimensionalists tell us that if a four-dimensional
being were placed in a hollow, air-tight, steel cube, he would be
able to leave it, in the direction of the fourth dimension, with the
utmost ease, and without going through any one of its six steel
walls. You can't imagine it, of course, any more than you could
imagine a third-dimensional escape, were your experience limited
to two dimensions. The problem which confronts us is: How did
the murderers of James Moreton remove his body from the room
in which the crime was committed without penetrating any of its
six confining barriers ?—Selah! It is next to impossible for the
ordinary mind to unthink racial experience, or to conceive the
possibility of vistas beyond the grasp of its psychic eye, yet you've
got to accept the fourth-dimension hypothesis to save your belief
in the impenetrability of matter, haven't you?-(Now don't be
mean enough to retort that that is precisely what the fourth-di-
mension theory most vigorously assaults.) Isn't it that, or else
the admission that the murderers of James Moreton, possessing
no n-dimensional knowledge, took his body out of a cubical box
without making a hole in it?-In the one case you'd have a
theory,-such as it is,-and in the other-nothing. In such a di-
lemma you know what the law of parsimony says. Think it over,
Doc. Suppose, now, death were an entrance into a fourth-di-
mensional existence! Our dear departed might be closer to us
than our own clothes, all the time, and we with our three-dimen-
sional experience never dream of it!
“ Think of it, Doc! even while you read this your pockets may
be full of Borgias! Heaven help us all! I can almost feel the
slimy clutch of Caligula at my throat! They say children often
scare themselves with their own goblin-stories, so I fancy I'd
better stop in time.
“ Don't give up that cryptogram, Doc. I feel confident it is a
most important clue; and we must solve it, even if we have to
take it to the Madame.-By Jove! I'm not sure but that's a good
idea. She was all right in her directions for finding the body.
Suppose you take the thing to her and write me what you
get.
I've never taken much stock in such things before, but results are
results, and the Madame has shown herself thus far quite the
mistress of the situation. She's a wonder, Doc, though, if I were
to hazard a guess, I should say she was one of those women who
occasionally do things for 'love,'-and other considerations. She


260 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
called you 'dear' the very first thing, and no one told her you
were a doctor either. I tell you, she's beyond my ken! Try her
on the typewriter-nightmare by all means.
“You will probably not hear from me again until I am
a Mohakaka pakeha. I shall go directly to John White's tribe,
confident that that is his destination also. I suppose you wonder
why I left all the home clues I had to take care of themselves,
while I posted off after John White. The explanation is easy.
They'll keep,-he won't! I must catch him with his victim's head
in his possession, or I shall, I fear, be powerless to score. Even
in that case, I have no easy game to play. It is more than probable
his tribe will refuse to deliver him over to the English authorities,
especially if they believe he is likely to be extradited. You will
perhaps remember that chiefs have refused to deliver a tribesman
before, and that the English government could find nothing better
to do than to wink at the offence.
“We may have to kidnap him, therefore, in order to get him
within reach of the British Lion's paw. Of course, I shall do a
deal of quiet investigating before I take the authorities into my
confidence.
“Oh! by the by, Doc. I came near forgetting to tell you some-
thing I've learned which makes me surer than ever that the Maori,
John White, is my man, and that this whole affair is, as I have
said before, but part of a long, long scheme of vengeance. You
will remember the Irishman's testimony after the assassination
of the elder James Moreton. He informed the police that one of
the suspects had said: "His cane is my head!' and that the other
had replied: “Your head is your own, but the watch is my heart.'
Well, now; I have recently scraped an acquaintance with a fellow-
passenger who is an old resident of New Zealand, -an erstwhile
pakeha Maori, in fact,-by which I mean a white man living
among the Maoris,-and he has told me much about their strange
manners and customs. One of their institutions arrested my atten-
tion instanter, viz.: the institution of tapa-not tapu-tapa. My
acquaintance told me that in the old days he had seen warriors,
before attacking the enemy, 'tapa' (if that's good New Zea-
landese) their possessions to themselves. For example, one would
point to a canoe and cry to his companions: “That´kopapa is my
leg!' while another would indicate the war cloak of an opponent
and shout: “That tapona is my face!' the idea being that these
things should be sacred to those who tapaed them, much as
children say: 'I claim that bright red one!' and 'I speak for the
biggest!' What Maori, forsooth, would dare to appropriate to
himself his companion's face or leg? You see, Doc, how com-
pletely this explains the mysterious utterances of the elder More-
ton's assassins, on the one hand, and how clearly it shows them
to have been Maoris on the other. Oh! Fate had an inspiration
when she posted me off after John White! I'm sure of it! I feel


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
261
it in my bones, and you, who know how bony I am, will appreciate
the great extent of my conviction.
“ Řemember me to the good wife and family. Try to keep out
of mischief. Time's up! Good-bye!
“ Yours affectionately,
“HENRY LLOYD HARCOURT (from 'Lunnon')
“ Alias GEORGE MAITLAND, Boston and New York."
“P. S. Address me, 'Henry Lloyd Harcourt, Nelson, N. Z.,'
and I'll leave forwarding orders where to send it.”


CHAPTER II
When the killing of his fellowman shall make the soldier good
and kind, then shall the dispensing of celestial falsehoods, and
the exploitation of the incompetent fearful, trim the Cloth, as its
just heritage and adornment, with the ineffable sanctity of Truth's
immaculate ermine.
It is a beautiful morning early in September and the
great pah or village of the Mohakakas, so delightfully,
situated upon Hawke Bay, looks like a human ant-hill,
so full is it of quiet, yet earnest, animation.
Men and women hurry to and fro upon its principal
street, now entering this structure and now that; while
maidens “ tall and fine,"—the Maori's conception of a
beautiful woman,-sit apart plaiting baskets for the
coming meal. Older women are presiding over the row
of hangis, or ovens, in the cooking-houses. These
hangis are merely saucer-shaped holes dug in the
ground. They are two or three feet in diameter and a
foot or so in depth.
Almost opposite the cooking-houses two little urchins
are diligently engaged in flying kites; while near them
are others whipping tops, running, leaping, wrestling,
throwing reeds, and playing cat's cradle, of all of which
pastimes the Maori is very fond.
A young man is seated beneath the tree near the en-
trance to the pah. A single glance reveals the fact that
he is not a Maori, and a closer scrutiny would lead any-
one unhesitatingly to pronounce him an Englishman
long resident in some warm climate. Just at this
moment his expressive brown eyes are fixed, with an
assumed indifference, upon Oraka, the old Mohakaka
tohunga, or priest.
262


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
263
The old man is saying in very good English:
“ I have lived right here in this pah, Mr. Harcourt, all
my life; and I have seen our people bait their fish-hooks
at the first sound of the cuckoo nigh on to eighty times.
I can remember every pakeha my people have had since
the day when I first threw a reed, and there were none
like unto thee.”
As he said this he fastened his small, age-encircled eyes
upon the young man before him, as if he would read his
very soul. His companion bore this gaze without so
much as the flicker of a lash, as he replied with a pleas-
ant smile:
“ Yes, I've often been told I'm sort of an odd stick;
still, apart from my baby hair, I'm a good deal like other
folks. I like my ease; work can be trusted in my pres-
ence without a guard; I enjoy good things to eat and
drink; am not so good but I might easily be better, nor
so bad that I could not readily be worse ;-in short, I'm
only different to the general run of Englishmen in a
few minor points :-in all other respects, alas! I'm
hopelessly common. I think, don't you know, it's rather
an unfrequent occurrence to find men of such marked
individuality that you feel at once they were never
ladled out of Nature's general soup-stock. Now you
are a man, don't you know, who would attract attention
anywhere."
The tohunga's eyes lighted up with a gleam of satis-
faction, and his breast swelled with pride as the younger
man continued in a soft, lazy, and insinuating drawl:
“We come into the world, don't you know, a form-
less mass, at which experience begins to hammer before
we have finished our first gasping inhalation. The
thoughts we think, the life we live, they are the things
which shape us. Great deeds cut strong lineaments into
the soul, while the mean, the narrow and the selfish leave


264 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
it baby-faced and all but featureless—or worse. One
has but to glance at Oraka, don't you know, to see
chiselled into his face the grand victories he has achieved,
-the wonderful experiences which have been his !”
“—Somebody has been telling you about me, I see,”
replied the old man, with such an air of condescension
that his companion found it impossible to repress a
smile, and so covered it with the remark:
“Ha! ha! people will talk! don't you know, whether
it be in England or in New Zealand. Are you not the
tohunga? Has it not been your duty to recite to the
young, that they might commit them to memory, all the
deeds of valour of the tribe? How could you leave out
your own great part in this history, if your teaching
were to be true? Surely you could not. What then?
Can you expect your pupils, when they recount the
glories of the Mohakakas, to pass by in silence the deeds
of their priest and teacher? That were too much, O
Oraka! I do not deny it; I have heard enough from
others to fire me with a desire to hear the whole tale.
Life'is so different here, don't you know, to what it is
in London, that it intoxicates me. You are right, I am
not like other pakehas I ought to have been a Maori.
What a life! To live and love and fight, with none of
the mawkish sentimentality of civilisation to prevent a
man from taking whatever custom, and its owner's
weakness, will permit. Yes, I have heard of your wealth,
your wives, and your great skill with the spear. But I
wish to hear about your exploits, as only you can tell
them,—as I heard you tell some of them to a young man
last night.”
“ Ah, that was my grandson !-He will one day take
my place.—'When the seine is worn out with age, the
new net encircles the fish. What would the pakeha
have me tell ? »


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
265
“ Tell me your deeds of daring,” replied the fair-
haired young man who called himself Henry Lloyd Har-
court, of London.—“ But first tell me why I am unlike
all your other pakehas,-or better still, tell me what
your other pakehas were like, that I may see the distinc-
tion myself. One difference, I suppose, is that most of
them married some of your fine Maori maidens, a temp-
tation which I have thus far resisted. Is it not so? Do
not most pakehas marry your daughters and forget
England ? "
“Some, but not many,” replied the old man. “Most
of them have wives already. Of those who are single,
some fall in love with maidens already tapued to another,
and it is not pleasant for a pakeha to cross the heart of
a Maori. In such a case he would have to fight, and
that would be the end of it.”
“But suppose he killed the Maori, what then? ” asked
the young man. “ Surely this must sometimes happen,
for my countrymen are brave, and can fight as
well as pray,—in fact a good deal better, don't you
know.”
“I have never known it to occur but once, and that was
through treachery. Only once, and then the pakeha
did not get the girl. Let me see, that was in the year of
the great flood, when we lost the timber we had cut for
a new pah. It must have been half a hundred years
ago!”
Henry Lloyd Harcourt gave a slight start, which he
arrested ere the tohunga perceived it.
“ Half a century ago, eh?” he said, with a yawn of
indifference. " Wonder if I'll ever be able to tell of
experiences half a century old. This pakeha was a
fellow-countryman of mine, I suppose?”.
“No. He was an American. He was a choice man,
this James Moreton, tall and fine and strong. I showed


266
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
him how to use the spear, and there was not a young
man in all the tribe who could reach his breast. He
told me many of his secrets, and often came for my
advice.”
“ What did you say his name was?”
“ Moreton; James Eldredge Moreton.”
“ You mean “Morton,' I suppose? ”
“ No, ‘Moreton’;" and the old man traced the letters
with his staff upon the well-worn turf beneath the tree
which shaded them.
“ It's an odd name, don't you know," said the younger
man, with an assumed indifference with which he hoped
to mask his excitement.—“ John Eldredge Moreton.”
“James, not John,” corrected the old man.
“ Aw, yaas ! so it is,” drawled the flaxen-haired young
man.
“ So Mr. James Morton, I mean Moreton, don't you
know,-fell in love with one of the daughters of your
tribe, did he? By Jove! I don't much wonder at it.
Look at that handsome girl over yonder! I mean the
maiden in the fine shawl,” continued the young man,
as the old tohunga seemed at a loss to know to which
one of several he referred.
“ Ah! the one in Tui's shawl! She is my grand-
daughter," and again the old man's proud air of con-
descension was all but irresistible.
66 « Tui's shawl' !” exclaimed the young man. “ Is the
young woman not wearing her own clothes?”
“ Peace! The thought is not with you—you do not
understand! That too is part of James Moreton's story,
—but why should I tell it to you?” and he shot his nar-
rowed gaze into the shadow where the young man
reclined.
“ For no reason," answered the young man lightly,
“ unless it be that it's a deuced sight pleasanter for a
Jover one of t
alaiden in hat han


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
267
lazy Englishman to listen to a tale of great deeds told
by one who did them than it is for him to get up and try
to do them himself.”
The old man wriggled like a fish on the barb of flattery.
Deep in his inner consciousness he felt the prick of a
hook, yet, for all that, the bait was too deliciously entic-
ing to be resisted, and so, with a single gulp, he swal-
lowed it hook and all.
“I will answer your question," he replied with slow
impressiveness. “Deeds are fruits; words are but
leaves, and Oraka likes you that you know this. You
ask, does not my granddaughter wear her own clothes?
I answer, yea. That nice shawl once belonged to Tui,
a maiden tall and fine who was tapued to Te Wira, our
Ariki. I shall tell you of her, but to do so I must first
tell you of the American, James Moreton. It is more
than fifty years gone that I first saw Mr. Moreton. He
came here to be our pakeha. In those days pakehas
meant guns, powder, tobacco and tools; and every tribe
sought to get one. He was ours, and a choicer man I
never saw with a white skin. We were much together.
A good companion halves both your journey and your
load. He fell in love with a young woman who lived
just outside the pah before he had been with us three
months. There had been much fighting just before, and
no one knew what next year's furrow would turn up, so
our people built their houses close to the pah in order
that they might have a place of safety in time of danger.
Hone Heke, he who married the daughter of the Great
Hongi,' had but a little while before cut down the
English flag at Kororareka; then Tu, the war-god,
reigned supreme, and Distrust was going up and down
the land in a red uniform.
“ We wanted powder and guns, and such things came
through pakehas, so we were kind to James Moreton.


268 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
We would all have eaten fern-root without a relish rather
than that our pakeha should not have had the best. He
married the woman who lived yonder beyond the great
mouth of the pah. Hira was her name, but he kept the
marriage secret, and no one knew it at the time but me.
All went well till Mr. Moreton met Tui. On the hearth
of the heart one flame eats up another; and thoughts
of Tui crowded his brain, even as the fish fill the desert
waste of the great sea. He would have none of my
counsel. All that I could say was but pouring the
liquor of speech into a sieve. I told him the maiden was
tapued to Te Wira, the Ariki, but he would not listen.
He swore a great oath that he would have her and
pledged me to secrecy. Then came the attack of the
Ngatiroa, while the pakeha was in the south. It was
like a tempest rising from beneath one's feet. It took
us so by surprise that those living outside were even
unable to gain the pah. Many of our best toas fell
that day as falls the grass beneath the foot. Hira,
wounded unto death, was taken prisoner. She died in a
few days. Nothing now stood in the pakeha's way but
the Ariki. After the sound comes the echo; after the
wicked wish comes the sinful act. It was upon the
thirteenth of June,- I remember it as if it were the day
of my first battle,—that James Moreton and the Ariki
went up the Mohaka river to the land the pakeha had
purchased. They hoped for agreement by talking it
over on the ground, for the things we see, see for us.
The fact is but the other side of the thought.”
The tohunga paused as if he had finished his story, and
seemed lost in retrospection.
" And this attempt at adjustment; what came of it?"
asked his companion with more interest than he cared to
show.
“ It was all a kohoru,—an act of treachery,—an


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 269
ambusha trick to get the young Ariki out of the
way!” replied the old man, with slow emphasis.
“And did it succeed?”
“ Yea; even as the thrust from the darkness finds the
mark in the light !-When the Ariki returned here it
was upon a kaw-shore borne by two men. He was crazed
and dying, and could tell nothing of what had happened
to him. And so Oraka, the tohunga, and James More-
ton, the pakeha, were the only ones who knew. That
night the spirit of the departed came through the
silence and spake to our sorrow. We begged it to tell
us the name of the assassin. “Ask the pakeha'! was
all the reply it made, as it bade us farewell out of that
distance which the white man calls death.' We all
looked at the spot where the pakeha had been sitting.
It was vacant. He had disappeared, yet no one had seen
him depart. When we opened the door to pursue him
a great light broke in upon us, and we knew that some
building was burning. Before we could reach it there
was a loud report, and we saw in the distance an old
man holding a maiden in his arms. Tui had fired the
building to distract attention, and then, intent upon
joining her dead lover, had placed a gun against her
heart, and blown her spirit out into the night to find its
eager way to Te Reigna, whence she could spring into
her lover's embrace. She died in her father's arms.
The shawl went to Tui's sister, who gave it to her own
daughter, and she, in turn, bequeathed it to my grand-
child yonder--so you see that Oraka's family wears its
own raiment, and that this is something better than
the coarse purekis 1 of the rest of our people.”
Again the tohunga paused as if he had reached the end
of his story, and his companion asked:
* See glossary.


270 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ And James-James Moreton ;-what became of
him? ”
“I cannot say. Somehow in the confusion he made
good his escape. Our fleetest runners were sent out, but
they returned without him. We have never seen him
since.”
sin elf living the young in stiletto lichalant implied.
“ If living he would be quite an old man now, would he
not? ” asked the young man languidly.
The tohunga thrust a stiletto-like glance into the
shadow. It lost itself in the nonchalant innocence of
the recumbent figure, and he laconically replied:
“ He is not living. He died on the anniversary of his
crime more than twenty-five years ago!”
“ On June 13th? What a coincidence! It must have
been remorse that killed him, else it would never have
happened on the same day of the year!” exclaimed the
young man. “I never heard a more remarkable coin-
cidence! They say that you Maoris have such a con-
trol over your processes that you can die at will. I
think you must have taught that accomplishment to Mr.
Moreton. Is it not so?”
“ There is some speech which the tongue may not lick
up. James Moreton died at will. If it were not his
will, then it must have been some other one's," said the
old man entangling his companion's gaze.
“Ah, you mean God's will!” replied the other, with a
simplicity which disarmed suspicion.
“ Maybe so," rejoined the tohunga, in a tone that said
as plainly as courtesy would permit:" The interview is
at an end."
· On the day following a messenger entered the pah with
news which must have been of more than ordinary import
judging from the commotion it created. It took the
flaxen-haired pakeha just twenty minutes to ascertain


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 271
what was transpiring, and the news excited him more
than it did the Maoris, albeit he remained outwardly
lazily indifferent to all that was going on about him.
The messenger brought the news of the approach of
Te Maire, who had just returned from an important
mission in America; and for 6 Te Maire” the pakeha
read “ John White.”
The frantic preparations which were made for the
approaching man's reception gave eloquent testimony
to the great regard in which he was held. Even the old
tohunga bestirred himself, though with such a bad
grace, when he believed himself unobserved, that the
keenly watchful pakeha quickly perceived that he
relished not the distinguished honours to be paid
Te Maire. At length, amid great excitement and accla-
mation, the visitor arrived, and stood in the great mouth
of the pah.
“ John White, as large as life, and twice as natural!”
exclaimed the pakeha to himself. For a time pande-
monium reigned. Then Te Maire and his suite were con-
ducted away to partake of the ample feast now ready
to be spread before them. During this repast, which
lasted till nearly dark, the pakeha, listen as he might,
could hear no word of especial interest to him.
As night drew on, however, he noticed that the differ-
ent members of the Runanga followed Te Maire and
their chief to the latter's house.
The pakeha sauntered in the same direction. When he
came in sight of the door he found a rahui, consisting
of a bunch of leaves tied to a stick driven into the
ground, for the purpose of giving notice to all comers
that the house was “ tapu," and must not be entered
except by those invited to participate in the business
in hand. The pakeha knew that entrance was not to be
thought of, so he crept as near the door as he dared


272 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
and stood motionless in the heavy shadow. He could
hear all that passed within. The old chief was the first
to speak.
“ Listen to me, my children!” he began. “Many,
many years ago when the seas fell from the skies and
swept over the land, a pakeha killed the Ariki of the
Mohakakas, not in fair fight but through basest
treachery. A great karakia ? was held the evening of
the day after the murder, and vengeance was determined
upon. I remember it like yesterday 5 Just twenty-five
years—no more, no less—after the murder of our Ariki,
James Moreton, the pakeha who killed him, was laid low.
The murdered Ariki's brothers had all died in the mean-
time, and the first blow of vengeance fell, as you know,
to the lot of two of our fellow-tribesmen having no blood
relationship to our beloved chief. James Moreton left a
boy and a girl, and another boy was soon born. You
know the nature of the vow we made.
“ A few months ago it became our duty, under our
oath, to kill one of James Moreton's sons, then residing
in America. We called the Runanga together in this
house,-even as we have to-night,—and chose our friend
here to do the deed. We shall now hear from him.-
How say you, Te Maire, has the younger James More-
ton been slain?”
“ He has been slain," replied the man addressed.
“ Praise be to the Being our ancestors worshipped in
the Morai at Hawaiki!” exclaimed the old chief.
The pakeha outside gently thrust his hand into the
bundle of raupo lashed to the long sticks close to his
head, and forming the weather-proof portion of the
walls of the structure, in order that he might make a
slight opening against which to press his ear. He had
just completed this eavesdropping improvement when
the old chief spoke again.
* See glossary.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 273
“ When was he killed?”
“ On the afternoon of June 13th.”
“ Just as it should be! And you have brought us his
head?” There was a fierce earnestness in the old chief's
question.
“ Alas, O Ruia, that was impossible! I have come back
empty-handed!” replied Te Maire dejectedly.
6 What was that!”
It was Tiari who asked the question, as he sprang to
his feet. His quick ear had heard the snapping of the
rushes as the pakeha, surprised into momentary forget-
fulness by Te Maire's answer, had suddenly let go his
hold upon the bundle of raupo.
Tiari rushed to the door, but the pakeha, who had
heard his exclamation of alarm, had already made off in
the darkness.
“ It must have been a kakapo,” 1 said Tiari as he
reseated himself upon his mat on the ground.
The flaxen-haired listener dared not return again to his
former coign of vantage.
“ The knowledge that I had permanently lost my head
caused me temporarily to lose my head in a fashion that
well-nigh caused me permanently to lose my head,"
muttered the pakeha to himself as he glided quickly
through the darkness.
* See glossary


CHAPTER III
Most of us regard our exact position upon the wrinkled skin
of this little oblate spheroid as one of the most essential factors
of existence, quite ignoring the truth that it is only the psychical
latitude and longitude which is of cardinal importance,-mere
physical location being of little or no account, save as it affects
the soul. Thus are we ever prone to acquire a prejudice of
locality which, amid much shouting and red-fire, we first proudly
christen “patriotism," and then hug to our bosoms till, like the
Spartan fox, it eats our hearts out; when, but for our insular
folly, we might be drinking great draughts of real freedom in
some remote Eldorado.
From Hawke Bay to Tasman Bay is a matter of some
two hundred and fifty miles as the crow flies. By water
it is somewhat farther, yet Henry Lloyd Harcourt,
or to be more exact, George Maitland,-chose the longer
route.
Nelson, a town of something more than six thousand
inhabitants, is situated upon Tasman Bay, and it was
here that Maitland hoped to make the acquaintance of
Adrian Canova Moreton, James Moreton's brother, since
that was the address given in all his letters.
Arriving in Nelson, Maitland secured quiet lodgings
with a private family, and began his search for some-
one who knew Adrian and through whom he could make
his acquaintance without disclosing his real identity;
for George had fully determined to take no one in New
Zealand into his confidence, but to remain Henry Lloyd
Harcourt to the end of his sojourn in this enchanting
land.
George Maitland was hungry for an opportunity to
express himself to some sympathetic listener. To ease
his nostalgia he wrote to his friend Willard:
274


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
275
"In Medias Res, New Zealand, Sept. 15, 19—
“MY DEAR Doc:
“I cannot get ahead here at all to my liking,-in fact, the only
head I particularly want is not, I regret to say, in New Zealand.
John White has returned, but he did not bring back his victim's
head, so I must devise other engines for proving his guilt,-if I
can,-always if I can! The devil of doubt still burrows under
the skin of my purpose, you see.
“I have learned that John White, or rather Te Maire, to give
him his real name, was unable to bring back James Moreton's
head. I had this from his own lips. Oh, no! he wasn't talking for
my benefit, else I should not place any reliance whatever upon
his remarks. He was addressing the Mohakaka Runanga, or
Council, in solemn conclave seated, with a sculsh-like bouquet tied
to a stick before the door, to warn the hoi polloi that the house
was tapu, or taboo, and must be considered sacred and inviolate.
Well, yours truly heard a portion of the remarks by a somewhat
ticklish bit of eavesdropping. The old chief said, after a few
explanatory sentences: 'How say you, Te Maire, has the younger
James Moreton been slain?' to which Te Maire-John White
laconically replied: "He has been slain. The chief fired an
appreciative remark at some Maori deity or other, and then asked:
• When was he killed?' 'On the afternoon of June 13th,' was
the terse reply. 'Just as it should be!' exclaimed the chief. ' And
you have brought us his head?' he asked.
“Alas! O Řuia,' said John White sorrowfully, that was im-
possible! I have come back empty-handed!'
“That's where I came away. The information so disconcerted
me for a moment, that I let go my hold upon some reeds with
which the walls of the structure were covered, and one of the
Runanga heard them as they snapped back into place, and rushed
to the door. I stood not upon the order of my going, but went
at once-or sooner,-in a way that would have delighted Lady
Macbeth,--and I tell you, Doc, I was just barely ahead of the
game. You'd better believe I didn't go prowling about any more
that night. In less than ten minutes I had been abed and asleep
two hours,-if appearances mean anything.
“Well, now, what do you think of it all? Pretty good evidence,
eh, that White did the murder; that he tried to bring away the
head, but failed to accomplish his purpose through circumstances
yet to be explained; and that the murder of the elder Moreton,
more than a quarter of a century ago—which occurred, you will
remember, on this fatal June thirteenth-was also chargeable to
the Mohakakas? What puzzles me—that is, one of the things-
heaven knows there are enough others l-is, who were White's
accomplices? Certainly there was no other Maori present at the
stockholders' meeting, and equally certain is it that no one man
ever did the thing alone. I'm sure of that. Those finger-prints


276
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
on the victim's throat, you know, were not made by White's
fingers-oh dear, no! anyone could see that.
"I don't intend to do anything to alarm White till I beat the
bush thoroughly, and have something tangible to bring against
him. I know Chief Ruia and the Runanga would never peace-
ably surrender him. He's far too important a personage among
them. If I've got to steal him it behooves me to know every
trick of the whole game before I indulge in any such outré finesse
as kidnapping,-least of all kidnapping a Maori giant who is all
solid grit from the crown of his head to the soles of his distant
feet.
“I am writing this from Nelson, whither I have come in the hope
of making Adrian Moreton's acquaintance, not, however, as
George Maitland, but rather as Henry Lloyd Harcourt, of London.
I am now busy devising engines whereby I may meet him in a
casual, off-hand way. This is about all the shop-talk I have for
this issue.
“Doc, this is the grandest hand-patch of government on earth!
Why, bless your prejudice of locality! which you euphoniously
call your patriotism,'—when it comes to running a government,
I mean a democratic government,—these fellows can give us
• cards and spades’ and beat us, 'hands down.
“ Here in New Zealand the government is run for the many
and not for the few; and those things which are naturally monopo-
listic the State itself runs.
“In short, the whole trend of affairs here, Ned, is to abolish
both millionaires and paupers. The New Zealand people are the
most joyous on earth, and you'd be delighted with them, if only
they'd get sick oftener. The low death rate will horrify you, and
lead you to believe your profession has no representation here,
I leave you to determine which is cause and which effect! It is
the lowest of any nation, being less than 10 (9.6) in a thousand.
No smallpox, no typhoid, and no—but I shall queer' the place
for you forever if I keep on. Death really occurs here, though,
for a man died in Nelson less than a month ago
“I must go now to see if I can get acquainted with Adrian
Moreton.-I suppose our official friends, Sheehan and Burke,
would think me crazy, if they knew what I was trying to do. They
don't have a very high estimate of my friend, Maitland's, ability,
but let me say for him what his strait-laced Puritanism won't
permit him to say for himself, viz.:—Sheehan and Burke be
blowed!'-providing it can be done, of course, without still
further puffing them up!
“Love to all. Hope to have something of interest to report
ere long.
“Sincerely your friend,
“ ĠEORGE MAITLAND (when ‘done brown');
“ HENRY LLOYD HARCOURT (when done in peroxide yellow.)”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 279
As soon as he had finished this letter Maitland went out
to look up Adrian Moreton. After some inquiry he
learned that he was treasurer of a mining company then
interesting capital to further open up its property. He
was told that the mine was located near by and that, in
all probability he would find Mr. Moreton there. Pro-
ceeding thither in the early afternoon, he suddenly
espied, as he rode into a little clearing, an elderly
man and two horses partially concealed by a clump of
bushes. A single glance told him that the old gentle-
man was a Maori. The moko, or tattooing, upon his
face was, as mokoes go, a rare work of art, and George
doubted not that the whakairo upon his hips and thighs
was an equally commendable bit of workmanship.
He bowed affably as Maitland drew rein in front of
him, and said;
“ You found our path rough, I'm afraid.—You are
looking for Mr. Moreton, I suppose?”
“ Yes,” Maitland replied, quite taken back at the
man's cultured manner of speech.
“ He's prospecting up yonder, half a mile or so," said
the Maori. “ It was too rough for the horses, so he
asked me to mind them here, while he went on ahead.
He's only going to get one or two samples for a man,
and will be back directly. Will you wait, or shall we
hitch the horses and go meet him?"
“ I would prefer the latter, if agreeable to you,” Mait-
land replied. “I have a poor set of waiting nerves."
While the Maori was tying the horses George had a
good opportunity to observe him. He must have been
at least six feet five inches tall, though he was so well
proportioned that his great stature was far less in evi-
dence than would have been expected.
Twenty minutes later Maitland and his guide arrived
at the spot where Mr. Moreton had been prospecting.


278
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
They found his tools, and two cloth bags filled with
sample ore, beside one of those little mountain cascades
in which New Zealand abounds, but the gentleman him-
self was not to be seen, neither did he respond to the
Maori's call.
“ Perhaps he has gone farther up the stream,” sug-
gested Maitland.
“Maybe so," laconically responded the Maori as
they proceeded to ascend a steep incline.
They had not advanced a dozen yards before Maitland
pointed to a slip of paper thrust between the halves of
a newly slit twig.
“ Suppose you examine that,” he said. “ If it have
any significance at all, it is doubtless meant for you.
The twig, you see, has just been split.”
A strange look came into the Maori's face, now ashen
pale, as he reached a trembling hand for the paper.
. For a moment he held it irresolutely, as if not daring to
gaze upon it. At length, with clenched teeth and fea-
tures rigid and drawn, he lowered his eyes to it for a
single glance at the penciled characters, when, without
a word of warning, he fell like a log to the ground.
Maitland seized the paper which had dropped from his
nerveless hand, and read as follows:
“ Good-bye, Tomo! I am taken and am to die. You
were right.
You will understand! God
bless you!
Adrian.”
nervaitland samning, , penciledowered


CHAPTER IV
A lie, like an indenture, will fit nothing but a counterpart manu-
factured for that purpose. Every truth in the universe makes a
close joint with every other truth; but a falsehood cannot success-
fully be placed in any mosaic which has in it a single block of
truth. Sooner or later great seams of inconsistency will inevi-
tably appear, and he would indeed be a sheolic genius who could
hide these cracks from a keen vision for any considerable time.
filled
cheele suggestion gasp ackng, dashed
To say that Maitland was dumfounded at what had
just transpired would be to state the fact homeopath-
ically. He bent over the prostrate Maori and rolled
him over, so as to bring his face uppermost. A pallor,
like unto death's last film of ashes, was spread upon it.
Maitland rushed to the stream hard by, filled his hands
with water, and, returning, dashed it in the Maori's
face. A faint gasp acknowledged its receipt, and a
mere suggestion of colour flickered timidly back into the
cheeks. He determined to dash some of the cold water
upon the man's chest, in the hope thus to increase the
respiratory action, and, to that end, he tore the Maori's
clothing away from his throat, and laid bare his breast,
when an involuntary exclamation of surprise escaped
him; for there upon the left breast, just over the heart,
was the mysterious figure which seemed to confront him
at every turn! It was tattooed into the skin with rare
plainness and precision. What did it all mean? A
long-drawn sigh proceeding from the prostrate figure
served to recall Maitland's mind to the more immediate
business in hand, and to send him hastily after more
water. Before the Maori had fully recovered George
had determined, to his own satisfaction, that he was
the Tomo to whom the note was addressed and that
was the mystre upon the leftation of su
279


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
281
“I understand, Tomo, and I respect you the more that
it is so," said Maitland softly, as he gently laid his
hand upon the other man's shoulder. “One does not
meet such friends every day.”
“ And all the while I was planning to harm him!
That is what I came to work at the mine for!” con-
tinued Tomo, conscience-smitten.
“ And why did you wish to harm him?"
Tomo hesitated and looked doubtfully at the inquirer.
“ Yes, Tomo, you can trust me,” George replied, in
answer to the look. “I am entirely friendly to Mr.
Moreton's interests,-in fact it was the interests of his
family which brought me here, though you must not let
anyone know what I am about to tell you. Mr. More-
ton's father was killed by the Mohakakas, and James
Moreton, Jr., Adrian Moreton's brother, has just fallen
a second victim to the same bloody vengeance. Adrian
warned him,—I have seen the letters—but it was of
no avail. On the thirteenth of June he was murdered.
In these warning letters Adrian referred to one of his
miners, whose life he had saved, as the source of his
information. Are you not the man?”
“ Yes! I will tell all!” Tomo replied. “I came to
work for Mr. Moreton that I might watch him. I was
one of those pledged to kill him should he marry. Te
Maire was sent to look after the other brother in
America. We had both sworn a great oath. Mr. More-
ton's father had killed the Ariki of our tribe when we
were children,—but that was not all-
6-Not all? " Maitland interrupted. " What else
had you against him?"
“ This! He had married my oldest sister, and had
left her without so much as a word and married another
woman !”
"_But you should not blame him for that. He did not


282 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
really leave her; she was taken captive in his absence.
When he returned he learned that she was dead."
“He lied when he said so!” exclaimed Tomo, fairly
bristling. “He basely deserted both his wife and child.
My sister lived for twenty-five years after that,—with
the flame of longing burning ever in her heart,—and
died as she had planned to die,—the very day her hus-
band was killed! The poison of pain had turned her
love to loathing and disordered her mind. She pledged
both me and her child to endless hate. The little one
was young, and forgot—I was old enough to remember,
and I did remember, and later took good care to fill my
niece with my own vengeful spirit. She grew to woman-
hood, married, and had a daughter. This child I con-
secrated to vengeance when a mere babe, tattooing upon
her bosom, with my own hand, the Sign of the Thirteen.
My sister taken captive, indeed! Oraka persuaded her
to go away, because, as he said, a dangerous rival was
trying to win her husband's affections. It was not
until the day after she left that the pah was attacked.
The tohunga promised my sister that he would send her
husband to her, but his utmost persuasions, as he told
her afterward, were of no avail. Moreton was deter-
mined to desert her, and he lied when he said she was
taken captive and died.”
“But it was not he who said it. It was someone
else,” replied Maitland, suddenly deciding not to give
his informant's name. It was a time for action, rather
than discussion, and the mention of the tohunga's name
in this connection could well be reserved for a future
occasion. George had learned much that he was
glad to know, and his mind was very busy with his
doubts.
“ What do you propose to do, Tomo?” he asked, as
they reached the horses. “ Certainly no time should


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 283
be lost in attempting a rescue. Had we not better
hurry back to town and notify the authorities ? ”
“I do not think so. Those of us who were sworn to
execute this vengeance upon the elder Mr. Moreton,
and, should occasion require it, upon his sons also,-
agreed upon a plan of action which was to be followed
as nearly as circumstances would permit. To make
our revenge the more perfect, we were, if possible, to
desecrate the body of the dead. The greatest disgrace
a Maori can inflict upon an enemy,—one that extends
to his children and children's children,-is to eat his
body and to bake his head,” Tomo replied. “We hoped
to be able to get still further satisfaction by selling our
victim's head to some of his own countrymen, for exhi-
bition in a museum. To do this, we should have to tat-
too it,-in order to make a real New Zealand head of
it,-before we killed our victim. All this we expected
to do, but when we learned that Mr. Moreton had gone
to America, all hope of such perfect vengeance died
within us. We might be able to bring back his head,
but we could not expect to tattoo it. As you know, we
did not even succeed in that. Now, in the case of my
employer, things are different. He is here on the
ground, and an attempt will be made, I am sure, to make
a feast of his body, and to tattoo his head. The mis-
sionaries will tell you that cannibalism is extinct, and
so it is, for the most part; but there are some things
which missionaries do not know."
“Do you mean to say that you think they will eat
your employer?”
“If possible, yes," Tomo replied." Their plan will
be, I am sure, to take him to some out-of-the-way place
where they can tattoo his face. This is a long opera-
tion. When it is finished, they will secretly issue invi-
tations for a great feast,-a feast of long white pig;'


284 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
as we Maoris call it. They will—will kill and eat Mr.
Moreton's body, and—and bake his head-after the
custom of my people! Herein is our only hope of sav-
ing my dear master. Unless his captors become
alarmed, or hard pressed, they will not kill him for at
least two weeks. That is why we must say nothing to
the police. They would at once start a noisy chase,
and upon the first intimation of their approach Mr.
Moreton's captors would kill him, and escape with his
head. If we are to accomplish anything, we must work
quietly.”
“I understand your plan," George replied. “Let us
separately return to town, and do you give it out that
Mr. Moreton has suddenly been called south, and may
not be back for three or four weeks. I say south'
because, in all probability, his captors have taken him
north. They are Mohakakas, and will not feel secure
till they are in the vicinity of their own people. I am
myself a Mohakaka pakeha, and may be able to be of
some assistance to you on that account. I will at once
return to the tribe where I will await your coming. You
will not, of course, let it appear that we ever have met
before. When you arrive we will find some way to
communicate with each other without exciting suspi-
cion. I think we had better separate now, lest we be seen
together; and I will get back to Nelson, and off north,
as soon as possible.”
“ The pakeha is back!” was the word which, a few days
later, passed from house to house in the Mohakaka pah.
Henry Lloyd Harcourt had indeed returned, and with
him he had brought sundry boxes and bundles, the con-
tents whereof weighed heavily upon the curiosity of
more that one Maori, who observed him as he entered


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 285
1 Tomo's storon had raised, had lied to
the greath mouth of the pah. Conspicuous among
these was no less a personage than Oraka, the tohunga.
Henry Lloyd Harcourt singled out the priest, and
bestowed upon him an especially warm greeting, slyly
placing in his hand, with a little convulsive squeeze, in
lieu of a more elaborate oral presentation, a small
round box, neatly wrapped in paper. It contained a
fine silver watch, the ticks of which, echoing through
the old necromancer's cavernous and all-engulfing
vanity, would soon, the donor felt sure, indissolubly mix
themselves with his veriest heart-beats. In this he made
no mistake.
Tomo's story of his sister's relations with the elder
James Moreton had raised a swarm of doubts in Mait-
land's mind. That Oraka had lied to him, seemed a
foregone conclusion. In pursuance of this conviction
he had determined upon a course of procedure before
he left Nelson. The watch, half a dozen bottles of
champagne, and a box of scientific apparatus were some
of the more concrete portions of this plan, and they
were no sooner properly bestowed than he made haste
to begin his campaign.
His house was at the extreme western side of the pah,
near a small and but little used gate looking inland.
The main entrance, or “ great mouth” of the pah,
was upon the eastern side, facing the sea. This
arrangement suited Maitland's purpose admirably,
since it gave him the semi-seclusion he desired, and
enabled him, if necessary, to leave the pah unobserved,
or under cover of night secretly to admit a visitor
through the little gate.
As soon as he had put his small house to rights,-for
absence is as much the accomplice of the rust and the
moth as it is of the thief,—he filled a tight pocket-
flask with champagne, and sauntered forth to en-


286 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
counter the tohunga. This was no difficult matter, for
the old priest was watching for him, full to his lip-
tattoo of wordy gratitude for the watch.
When the tohunga had exhausted himself, so that
even he noticed the hollow, chesty ring in his words, he
permitted Maitland to speak.
“Of what new deeds of valour has Oraka bethought
him, during his pakeha's absence?” he asked, seating
himself in the shade of his favourite tree.
“When memory is harnessed with age, the pace is
slow, my son,” replied the old man sententiously. “A
thatch of snow makes winter in the house of the mind;
and in winter the sluggish stream freezes quickest; still,
an old man's spade sticks ever in the past, and new-
old deeds are constantly unburied.”
“ Well said, 0 Oraka! In your mine of memory there's
a nugget in every shovelful of experience!” exclaimed
the designing Henry Lloyd Harcourt, with his frank-
est smile. “ Come, now! let's at it like Maori chief-
tains! Toss me whatever jewel is uppermost in your
mind, while I stretch out here, like a lazy Englishman,
and pour this wondrous libation to a white man's gods,"
and he took a silver flask from his pocket and held it
ostentatiously aloft.
The old man's eyes narrowed to a covetous crack, as
he said, reaching for the flask:
“ What is that, my son ? "
“It is the laughter of the grape! the sunshine of
Marne! the warmth of youth! the ecstasy of love! the
key to paradise! the white man's gayest dalliance -
champagne !” exclaimed the young man.
“ Have I not heard your missionaries say the laughter
of the grape is a mocking laugh?” asked the old man
severely.
“Yea, truly, and so it is,” replied his companion.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 287
“ Touch it not, 0 Oraka! lest you dream such dreams
as will make you unwilling to awake.”
“ Soft is the white man's mouth, e'en as is that of the
kahawai, and smooth as the skin of the seal are the
words that drip from it!” said the aged man, with
slow emphasis. “It is for the young to fear dreams,
not the old. Let my words be a warning to you, my
son. In far-away Hawaiki, whence came my people, the
winds sung ever a sweet-scented song of summer.
Desires, thrown upon the generous earth, rooted in
hope, blossomed in promise, and fruited in fulfilment.
Blessings lay, like an ungarnered harvest, so thick upon
the land that sadness could not strike root through
them. The sun was in every face; in every heart a lily.
The tui learned its song from our maidens! The sea,
and the taro-pit, gave us food, and, wrapped in a loving
climate, a piece of tapa cloth was all the additional
shelter we needed.
“Our gods were at our right hand, and a wish was
but half a thought,-fulfilment the rest. Hunger swam
in a lake of milk and honey, and Thirst drank the
scented dew that brimmed the lily's cup. Love was the
air we breathed.—Then came the accursed discovery
that the fermented juice of kawa kawa would pro-
duce strange dreams; and all was changed. Discord,
arm in arm with Hate, stalked up and down the land.
The fathers of my people gave themselves up to super-
stition, cruelty and lust. Debauchery reigned supreme.
A few, indeed there were who fought this liquid
demon, and these organised the “Runanga,' a secret
reform society, which tried in vain to hold back the
great black wave. They were but a handful against a
besotted horde, and were finally driven from the islands.
Hither they came in ten double canoes, and brought
with them the institution of the Runanga.-Such, my


288 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
son, is the dreadful story of the fluid which explodes
like a mine in men's brains, and blows their thoughts
to the stars of the upper air. Take heed! Take heed!
The time to repent is before the match has been laid to
the train !What manner of water is this? ” asked the
old priest, as he unscrewed the flask and brought it to
his nose.
“ Some call it fire-water,” replied the young man,
with a face deeply lined with pain and anxiety. “ It
is a wonderful fluid!”
The tohunga raised it to his mouth to drink.
“ Stay, Oraka!” shouted his companion. “My lips
have pressed the flask! It is not meet that one of your
exalted rank should drink from it,” and he held out his
hand for it.
“ You say well, my son,” replied the priest, without
offering to return it. “ It is, indeed, tapu, but I have
power to remove the tapu to a distant place. See !” and
he made mysterious passes with his free hand as he con-
tinued: “ The tapu is here; the tapu shall be removed.
Take away the dread! Take away the fear! Take
away the danger! The tapu is being borne away! See !
it is gone; and the tapued thing is free and clean!”
with which exclamation he placed the shining flask to his
lips and completely drained it. “It is a good water,
and harmless,” he said, smacking his lips. “I shall
be obliged to keep this little can, my son, since my drink-
ing from it has made it very tapu, or sacred. Were it
glass I should break it; but as it metal there is nothing
for me to do but to keep it," with which explanation
he carefully secreted it upon his person.
“ If that isn't absolute zero," exclaimed Maitland to
himself, “it's the nearest point thus far obtained !
Jove! it just collapses me, as if I were an atom which
had reached the Ultima Thule of coolness! A crust'
he med: " The tapuad! Take away borne away!
h his free shall be rem Ta
The taplake a very shall be cele con


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 289
like that would make good skating in Tartarus. If
he were there he'd be the finest thing on the ice,—the
very cream of Tartarus, as it were!” After these some-
what vigorous intramural reflections, the flaxen-haired
young man focussed his sweetest smile upon the old
tohunga and said:
“I am glad you like this harmless water. You do not
find it at all heady, do you?”
“ The thought is with you. I do not understand,"
replied Oraka.
“ I mean," continued the young man," that it does not
affect your head doesn't make you giddy."
“ It is no more than air, my son. I could drink a
barrel, and keep every drop below my neck. It is per-
fectly harmless; no one need fear it. Alas! that the
juice of the kawa kawa root was not like unto this!”
and the old man heaved a peculiar kind of sigh.
“I am, indeed, glad to hear you say so, for I have
several bottles of it at the house, and am going down
directly to take some myself.”
“ If you'll go now, my son, I'll go down with you. I
feel twenty years younger than usual, and the walk will
do me good. By my spear! there's nothing makes a
man so young as young company! Come on! I'd race
you to the little gate if no one was looking,” saying
which the old man scrambled nimbly to his feet, seized
the younger man by the arm, and hurried him eagerly
down the street toward the little gate.
do glad to heculiar kind be unto this!!
Fifteen minutes later they were both seated upon rush
mats placed upon Harcourt's floor. Each had a bottle
beside him. The younger man's bottle was all but
untouched, but from that of the tohunga, the “harm-
less water” had disappeared clear down to the kick.


290
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
In order that the kick might be kept in the bottle, Mr.
Harcourt was just placing another “original pack-
age” of the innocent liquid within easy reach of the
tohunga, as he asked:
“Do you remember telling me, a while ago, about a
Mr. Moreton? I thought you would. You're young
yet. Well, there's one part of the story I can't quite
make out, probably I didn't get it straight.”
“I can remember—hic—every word I told you.-
Whash story was it?”
6 Why, the one where you played the trick on More-
ton. You sent his wife away—told her someone else
was making love to her husband, and that if she'd go
he'd follow; and then, when Moreton returned after
the attack on the pah, you told him his wife had been
captured and had died. There aren't many men who
could have managed that so cleverly, Oraka.”
“ Yesh! but that—hic-ishn't anything toto-hic
-the resht of it!”
“Oh, no! of course not. Have some more of the
water,” and the young man held the bottle toward his
companion.
The tohunga took a long draught, as the other con-
tinued :
“ But how did you get rid of Moreton so easily? "
“ Ha! Ha! thash the besht part of it-hic-I made
'em all think 'twazh Moreton killed the Ariki, an' he had
run away. Ha! Ha! thash the funniesht part of it-
hic-funniesht part of it!”
“ By Jove! but that was clever. You wanted him out
of the way because,-because,—it was some mighty
clever reason—what did you say it was?”
“ There wazh two reasons :-hic—firsht, I wanted Te
Wira out of the way sozh to get an Ariki I could
influ’nce influ’nce; second:-hic-I wanted Tui; an'


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 291
third :-I hated Moreton, 'caush he sided wizh—hic-
wizh the Ariki-againsht me,-so I got Haimond Patone
to kill Te Wira, an'-an'-then I poishoned him sozh he
couldn't tell. Howzh that for a tre-hic? Ha, ha, ha!
funny-funny trick, eh? Te Maire I hate Te Maire
-been making—hic—fool himshelf trying to kill every-
body-hic—for whash they didn't do! Ha, ha! I fool
him, too-an’ thash the besht yet! Ha! ha!” and,
quite overcome with the “harmless water,” he fell over
upon his mat, chuckling to himself in maudlin glee, and
was soon deep in a drunken sleep.
Henry Lloyd Harcourt hid what was left of the cham-
pagne, secreted such belongings as he particularly
prized, and sauntered out into the open air, taking care
to place a rahui before the door, so that his house might
be considered tapu. Only in this way could he hope to
prevent the tohunga's drunkenness from becoming the
common talk of the pah. While he was tying a bunch
of leaves to a stick for a rahui, who should pass by him
but the stalwart Tomo. Each saw the other, but neither
one gave the slightest sign of recognition. Maitland's
quick glance toward the woods at the north end of the
pah was only observed by Tomo, and had another seen
it, he would have attached no significance to it.
The Maori passed out of the little western gate, while
the white man went in the opposite direction, and left
the pah by its main entrance. Once outside, both men
turned north toward the woods, and soon met in a
secluded place. Maitland at once told Tomo all he had
so recently learned from the drunken tohunga. To say
that the Maori was horrified at this tale of perfidy would
be to do scant justice to his feelings. His first impulse
was to return to the pah and slay Oraka forthwith; but
Maitland was easily able to show him the folly of such a
rash course.
The Maori passent in the opposince outside,


292 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
heart to suspect it. The promptly.com
“Does Te Maire or any of the other Maoris, for that
matter,-know of your disaffection, or have they any
reason to suspect that you are hostile to their plans? "
Maitland asked.
“No," replied Tomo promptly. “They could not
possibly suspect it. I have never confided my change of
heart to anyone, save Mr. Moreton, and I pledged him
to secrecy. I had no occasion to act, you see, unless Mr.
Moreton was married; so they cannot think I failed in
the performance of any duty. If they thought so, they
certainly would not have permitted my master to write
me the note we found. That, in itself, is evidence that
they considered me safe, and felt sure the information
would not be disclosed.”
“But how do you account for it that your employer's
assailants did not take you into their confidence?"
George asked.
“ I do not account for it," the Maori replied; “ unless
—unless they were impatient for vengeance, or hungry
for human flesh, and knew I would oppose any such
unauthorised haste. If so, they might think it best to
leave me out of it.”
56 Yes; that might easily be the case," said Maitland.
“As you are in good standing, then, with all your people,
I would suggest that we get back to the pah es quietly
as we left it, and that you find some way of getting
yourself introduced to me in the presence of several of
your friends. This will give me an opportunity to dis-
close to you in due time Oraka's confession. When I
have done so, it will be perfectly natural for you
secretly to confide to Te Maire, as your companion in
vengeance, your information and the doubts it has
raised in your mind. It is more than likely he will think
I am lying and ask for proof,—at all events, it will be
essential that he should have it. You will suggest to


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 293
him that I be asked to substantiate my accusation, if I
can, in order that you may be sure of your ground.
You can tell him that I have offered to try so to arrange
it that both of you may hear Oraka's confession from
his own lips. In the meantime, I will lay my plans to
bring about this important consummation. Do you see
any difficulty in effecting what I have outlined to you
as your part of the undertaking?"
“ None whatever. My part is easy. It is the task you
have reserved for yourself which I regard as well-nigh
impossible. Oraka will probably remember his drunken
indiscretion, and refuse to become intoxicated again,"
said the Maori somewhat dubiously.
“ Leave that to me, Tomo, and I will do my best. I
think I can accomplish my purpose,” responded the
other hopefully. “ Later on, I shall need your assis-
tance and will explain my plan; but one thing at a
time. For the present our objective point is Te Maire.
If we can convert him to our belief, he will doubtless be
able at once to cause the release of Adrian Moreton.”
“ Unless my employer's assailants have made a bridge
of Te Maire's nose, too,—and they probably have, if
actuated by the reasons I have suggested as possibly
applying to my own case,” Tomo added, by way of
amendment.
“ True; but even so, Te Maire would, I think, have
power to reach them. He is too high in the councils
of the tribe to be trifled with. I'll go back now to my
drunken guest. I shall not have to ask you to work
diligently, or impress upon you the great value of time
at this juncture. Good-bye!” and the two men parted,
and made their separate ways back to the pah.
The Mohaka Rive
rigantic bow just before


294 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
hills, thesilhouette Flated ramp
it debouches into Hawke Bay. The general direction of
this bow is westward from the sea, and it would require
a bow-string something like twenty-five miles from tip
to tip to string it. Just at the inland spring of this
arch, a short tributary, rushing down from the foot-
hills of the Te Whaiti mountains, empties into the main
stream. If you traverse this little affluent a few miles
in a northwesterly direction, you arrive at a small brook
which enters it from the west, its source being but a
few miles away among the mountains. At this point
the country begins to assume a rugged aspect. High
hills, the whispered promise of the mountains just
beyond, silhouette their rocky, dentated, and declivitous
outlines, like castellated ramparts, against the towering
citadel they seem to guard.
High up one of these hills yawns a long fissure in the
granite wall. From the level ground it is merely a
slightly irregular line of black, hard-drawn upon a
slate of light grey; but, seen close at hand, it is the
entrance to a flume of no mean proportions, through
which in geological periods long past there gushed a
mighty torrent. Terrific escarpments rise, black and
threatening, from the old river-bed, while, at the farther
end of the narrow passage, like the cap covering the
objective of a mammoth telescope, is a sheer curtain of
rock, pierced at its base by a dark and yawning hole.
It was from this opening that the old subterranean
fluid sculptor issued, ages and ages ago, when he carved
his name, in days immemorial, into this cyclopean
bequest to all eternity
Man, in a mathematical sense, is the reciprocal of
nature; and thus it is that the racial habit of looking for
correspondences between environments and the acts
occurring in them has become deeply rooted in all of us.
Name a dark deed, and the hearer's imagination
citadines, likeouette the promis
seem toated rocky, dent the m


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 295
is no jarring 1. that of absoluntrance to the likes
leavin. A legilis limi
paraphrases it with a dark place as its natural locale.
Show a gruesome spot, and deeds, bristling horrent with
the live hair of fright, make dramatic a hell of thought.
Between this fearful fissure among the foot-hills of the
Te Whaiti mountains, and the deeds it now environs,
there is no jarring note. The ratios are all true and
consonant; the chord, that of absolute horror!
Bound upon the ground near the entrance to the cave
is Adrian Canova Moreton. His limbs are tied to stakes
driven into the earth. A leathern cap is fitted tightly
about his head, leaving only the bearded face bare, and
from this covering, in the vicinity of the ears, extend
two straps which also are secured to stakes driven into
the ground. Upon a rush mat by the head of the pros-
trate man sits a Maori tattoo-artist. In his left hand
he holds a little bone chisel, and in his right a curiously
shaped mallet. At his feet is a small dish of pigment,
which, if he accurately follow the customs of his race,
should consist of charcoal, gum and vegetable extracts.
A tiny palette of red ochre rests upon the ground at his
right hand. He has just used it to sketch upon the
prisoner's face the portion of the design he expects to
tattoo at this sitting, and he is now slowly pounding
the chisel into the quivering flesh of the prostrate man.
The operation is very painful, and but a small area can
be done at any one time. The artist is proceeding with
a deliberation which seems little short of devilish. Now
he drives the little bone chisel a few times into the
victim's face till the blood flows freely. This he care-
fully wipes away, after which he rubs the dark pigment
into the wound; then, a few more stabs of the little bone
torment, and so on, bit by bit, till it seems to the
prisoner as if he would surely lose his wits, if the torture
did not cease. When he can endure it no longer he
cries out to his torturer:


296
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Enough! I can stand no more! For God's sake drive
that thing through my heart, and let it end here!”
The artist proceeds with the work as if no protest had
been made.
“ There is but little more to be done to-day,” he at
length volunteers.
There is a long silence broken only by the groans of
the sufferer.
Then the Maori, rising from his sitting posture, unties
the ligatures which hold his subject to the earth, removes
the leathern casque from his head, gathers up his tools
and utensils and prepares to enter the cave.
“ Have I not heard them call you“ Wi Tako'?” asks
the white man.
“ Yes; since you will never live to tell, I do not mind
admitting that Wi Tako is my name," the artist replies.
“ So I am to be killed, am I? ” asks the white man,
though he already knows what the answer will be.
“ Yes," responds the other laconically.
“ Well then, since dead men tell no tales, there can be
no possible reason why you should not tell me all about
my captors' plans.”
“ There is nothing we need conceal, Adrian Moreton,
and nothing that you will be the better off for knowing.
If you ask questions I shall most likely answer them;
but if you take my advice, you won't talk about your
prospects,” replies the Maori.
“I thank you for your warning, Wi Tako,” says
Adrian, “but I'd prefer to know what is in store for me.
In the first place, what offence have I committed that
I am to die?"
“ Listen; I will tell,” responds the Maori. “ Your
father killed Te Wira, our Ariki, more than fifty years
ago. We vowed vengeance upon him and his. Our
oath did not require us to molest his sons, unless they


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
297
flesh. You kill one's ene if vengea
should marry. Your brother did marry, and, in the
hope that we might at least get his head, we sent our
best chief, one of our Runanga, after it. He has just
returned-returned empty-handed! What happened to
your brother you already know.”
“But why do you seek my life, I have not married,”
questions Adrian.
“ You were about to leave New Zealand to attend to
your brother's affairs. America is a long way off, and,
when it should come your turn to die, we would again
be unable to secure a Moreton head, or to taste a More-
ton's flesh. You are our last chance for real, satisfy-
ing revenge. To kill one's enemy is nothing,—he must
be chewed, and his head cured, if vengeance is to have
any soul in it! Of course, you might never marry, but
it suits us to consider that you surely would. It was
Pomare's thought that we make sure of you, now when
we could get both your head and body, and he went
secretly about enlisting whomever he could in his cause.
He dared not let any of the chiefs know what he meant
to do, for fear they would forbid it, so our little party
was chosen with great care. Those whose desire for
vengeance was not strong enough to lead them to risk
the Runanga's displeasure, he tempted with the promise
of a great feast of " long white pig. That was enough!
Many of us had not eaten human flesh since we were
children, and remembered it as it tasted to our boyish
hunger. The rest you know.”
“ You intend, then, to tattoo and cure my head, and
to eat my body," says Adrian with a visible shudder.
“ And then, what?"
“ Then we shall sell your head to some American
museum, as a fine sample of New Zealand head,—and
-and my work will be admired by thousands!” replies
Wi Tako, with evident pride.


298 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Adrian Moreton rises to his feet and looks quickly
about him.
“Who are those men out there at the entrance to the
flume?”
“They are guards posted there to catch you, should
you think it wise to try to escape," answers Wi Tako,
with a meaning smile.
The prisoner resumes his seat.


CHAPTER V
The popular definition of superstition is: “ the other man's
religion.” The Namaquas believe the moon is made of bacon, yet
they doubtless would consider the solemn conviction of certain
Brazilian tribes, to the effect that a solar eclipse is an attempt on
the part of a monstrous jaguar to swallow the sun, as a most
absurd, ignorant and ridiculous superstition. And so is it nearer
home. Most of us so-called Christians hang our faith, as if it
were a hammock, between an unthinkable God and an impossible
Devil, and then lie down in it, for a long, intellectual, Rip Van
Winkle sleep. Once in a great while we hear some suffering sleeper
cry out in his agony: “Every time I think another thought I get
another pain!” and we know that some poor denizen of Sleepy
Hollow has been awakened by the cruel stab of a real thought.
Fear, in forming the substratum both of religion and superstition,
pays an eloquent tribute to their blood-relationship. Says the
Immortal Bard: “I see you have some religion in you, that you
fear.”
OF Tomo's integrity Maitland felt perfectly assured,
yet his long habit of taking nothing for granted, where
it was possible to subject a matter in hand to actual
test, led him to go to Napier, where he could obtain
indisputable evidence of the marriage of Tomo's sister
to the elder James Moreton. Then, too, the project he
had in mind would require the assistance of at least one
other besides Tomo, and it would be essential that this
other should be able to manipulate certain apparatus
necessary for the accomplishment of his purpose. In a
good-sized town many such could be readily found.
There were also some few items of his equipment yet
to be procured.
When he had secured just the assistant he wanted, the
two men set out together for the pah of the Mohakakas,
or, to be exact, that was Maitland's objective point,
299


300 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
while the young assistant was to remain as inconspicu-
ously as possible a short distance away until wanted.
As matters fell out he did not have long to wait in
inaction. Maitland had no sooner returned to the pah
than Tomo informed him that Te Maire had been unable
to believe Oraka could be guilty. He had demanded
proof, and had seemed deeply impressed when informed
that an effort would be made to enable him to hear the
confession from the tohunga's own lips, if he would but
consent to let the pakeha order his movements in the
matter.
“ I will do anything,—everything, Tomo," he had re-
plied, “ to have my mind set at ease! If this thing be
true, I have taken human life without just cause! Back
to the pakeha! Tell him I will keep his secret, and do
his bidding, but I must have proof-absolute proof!”
“ We will do our best to produce it,” Maitland had
replied when Tomo repeated Te Maire's words to him.
“ Your modesty, O Oraka! does you much credit; but,
seek as you may to hide your light under a bushel, you
cannot snuff out its brilliancy. I hear of your deeds on
every hand. Your powers in this world I can under-
stand, now that I know you, for I have seen men in my
day! But how you are able to summon the spirits of
the Great Beyond to do your bidding, I cannot compre-
hend, never having seen anything of the sort."
The speaker "was a flaxen-haired young man with
fluffy, “mutton-chop” whiskers, and the person ad-
dressed was the old tohunga.
“My son,” replied Oraka, with slow impressiveness,
“ever and anon heaven lends earth a man. He tarries
for a brief span, performs some grand mission, and is
then caught back to the skies whence he came. I come


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 301
from the heavens; my ancestors are all there; they are
gods, and I shall return to them!”
For a long time the young man kept the solemn silence
that followed the old man's words.
“ They told me how you once called forth the spirit
of an Ariki, yonder in the forest beneath the very tree
which had held his bones,” he said at length in an awe-
aspirated voice; “ and he had been dead for more than
twenty years.”
“Ay, so was it !” replied Oraka. “ It was the spirit
of Te Wira, -he who was murdered by the American.
I caused it to come to earth, and to tell my people how
they should conquer their ancient enemy, the Rarawa.”
“What would I not have given to have seen this dem-
onstration of your spiritual power! There are priests
among my people, but they do little but talk.” He
paused a moment and took several coins from his pocket.
“But for the fact that Te Wira has been dead too long
for you to recall his spirit,” he continued, “I should
say to you, O Oraka ! do you see these five bright
golden coins? If you will take me to-night to Te Wira's
burial-tree, and call up his spirit as you did before,
they are all yours,' and, if that were not temptation
enough, I should add one of those two superb repeating
rifles I showed you the other day. But, alas! your
power over a man's spirit ceases after he has been dead
so long." He noisily returned the golden coins to his
pocket.
The old man's eyes were narrowed in eloquence of
greed. He was thinking of the gold; thinking of the
rifle,-a repeating rifle a long tube full of deaths !-
thinking how, again and again, in bygone years, he
had bartered his soul for a mere musket; thinking what
he could do with the money, and what he would do with
the rifle; and when a tempted wrongdoer makes in


302 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
advance a mental disposition of the wages of his sin,
the Devil considers the transaction closed.
“Who told you, my son, that my power was measured
in years? It was wrong to trifle with your ignorance.
You should not believe all you hear, neither should you
stake your money and your goods where they can be so
easily won. I am more than half-minded to accept your
challenge and take your wager, that it may be a lesson
to you in and take more than goods wheither signoranc
“What! you do not mean that you could call back the
Ariki's spirit after all these years, just as you did
before!”
“ Yea, my son; as readily now as then."
For a moment the young man was silent, and in that
brief period all his enthusiasm seemed to vanish, and to
give place to a critically sceptical mood.
“ Ah, well!” he said, with a shrug of the shoulders,
“we Anglo-Saxons are a doubting tribe, and so you
must pardon my unbelief, Oraka. It is the study of
exact science which undoes our faith. The church
should redouble its efforts to have nothing but classics
taught in our educational institutions, if it would main-
tain its hold upon us. You must not think, O Oraka!
that this is any special distrust of you. It's in my blood
and I can't get it out. I'm not a sport, and I do have
great confidence in your power, as you know; yet, so
sure am I that, in this instance, my doubts do not mis-
lead me, that I dare make the five coins ten, and add to
them both the rifles.”
“Enough!” shouted the old man eagerly. “ Your
folly be on your own head! You hurl the toroai at my
feet, and cannot complain that I snatch it up! No man
shall set a bound to my power! Ten pieces of gold, and
the two guns that bite and bite again and again without
feeding,—that is your part. From me, the spirit of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 303
Te Wira to be called back to-morrow night, just as
before, beneath his burial-tree! Is that the compact ? "
“Yes," replied the young man.
- Very well, then ; leave me, my son, for I would search
out the Ariki's spirit, and make this thing known to
it.” And the tohunga rolled his small eyes inward, and
dropped his chin upon his breast, to indicate that
already his soul had left this vale of tears.
Just before midnight the rising moon disclosed three
shadows fitting about under Te Wira’s burial-tree.
Each figure was armed with a spade, and began dili-
gently to dig as soon as the moonbeam reached the little
forest clearing in which the hollow rata-tree stood.
The trio consisted of Tomo, Maitland and Robert Stet-
son, the young man Maitland had secured in Napier.
They were busily engaged in digging two little, shallow
trenches in the form of a immense V, the apex of which
was in a thick clump of gigantic ferns and bushes,
while one free end was at the roots of the burial-tree,
and the other at those of a smaller tree situated some
eighty feet away, upon the western edge of the little
clearing. When the trenches were completed, tin tubes,
neatly jointed, were laid in them, the earth carefully
replaced upon them, and leaves raked over the disturbed
soil with such care that the closest observer would not
have detected anything amiss. The end of the tube at
the roots of the burial-tree was provided with a little
blind-well, cleverly concealed by a covering of boughs.
The divergent end of the other tube was supplied with
an upwardly-looking elbow, into which was inserted a
vertical section of tube thirty feet or so in length, tied
at intervals to a young sapling just large enough neatly
to conceal it.
The upper end of this pipe carried an elbow, which was


304
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
carefully adjusted with its opening obliquely downward
toward the trunk of the burial-tree. At the apex of the
V the two tubes, each provided with a little throttle-
valve, entered a common mouthpiece, concealed in the
ferns and bushes beyond all danger of discovery.
By talking into the mouthpiece, and opening first
one valve and then the other, a hollow, sepulchral voice
would proceed, now from the ground beneath the burial-
tree, and now from high up in the air, at the opposite
side of the clearing.
Tomo had one of those full, deep, cavernous, bass
voices so admirably suited to the portrayal of the senior
Hamlet; and when he spoke in the mouthpiece the words
** set down for him by Maitland, and worked the valves
as directed, the effect was weird, gruesome, and uncanny.
The illusion was certainly perfect. The idea had been
suggested to Maitland by the well-known talking head
of Albertus Magnus, which the worthy Thomas Aquinas
took the liberty to reduce to its lowest terms—with a
hammer. In the present trick, however, the deception
was far more perfect than it was in its ancient proto-
type.
When the tubes had been sufficiently tested, and Tomo
had become “ letter perfect ” in his part, the men dug
a trench just in front of a clump of tutu and koromiko
shrubs a little to the right of the burial-tree. In this
Maitland put certain chemicals he had procured, after
which he loosely covered the trench with boughs, and
placed in the end nearest the apex of the tubes a little
arrangement he had devised, whereby the chemicals
would be ignited when Tomo should pull a string, which
was carefully threaded through the bushes to his place
of concealment. The chemicals contained a generous
proportion of sulphur, in order that they might burn
persistently, and with but little illumination, giving


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 305
off, the while, a dense smoke and an unmistakably Cal-
vinistic odour. The method of igniting the train was
simplicity itself. The pulling of the string upset a
few chips of metalic sodium on to a little pad of blot-
ting-paper, moistened in water to which starch had been
added, and arranged just below one end of a short
powder-fuse, the other end of which was buried in the
sulphur mixture.
The object of all this was to produce, against the
forest background, a dense curtain of white smoke,
upon which Maitland proposed to exhibit certain lan-
tern projections which he had himself drawn and coloured
with the utmost care. Nothing now remained but to
make a suitable place for the lantern, and to instruct
Mr. Robert Stetson in the part he was to perform. As
this young gentleman was an expert with the magic-
lantern and was using his own instrument upon this
occasion, he required but little rehearsing. Maitland
selected a tree about eighty feet from the trench con-
taining the chemicals, and, with the assistance of his
companions, erected a little platform high among its
branches. Upon this the lantern was placed, and its
beams tested, after which the limbs of neighbouring
trees were bent and lashed, so as to perfectly screen both
the lantern and the platform. Then the beam was
again tested, to make sure no leaf or twig interrupted
its path. This completed the night's work and, after
Maitland had once more gone carefully over his entire
plan of campaign, the sleepy trio broke up, each feel-
ing that he had a deal to confess to his pillow, with
time far too scant for its telling.
Again it is night. The forest, sleeping in its gay suit
of green, like some St. Patrick's Day inebriate who re-
tires without the customary preliminary of disrobing,


THE MYSTI
307
OF JUNE 13TH
Hark! That is not the wind! Henry Harcourt sits
up and rubs his eyes. Again, and this time nearer,
comes the moaning sound, now audibly articulate.
“Speak, 0 Oraka! why have you called me back again
after all these years?” asks the voice.
The old man makes no answer, but continues his ster-
torous serenade, as if nothing had happened. The
young man holds his peace, and observes closely all
that transpires.
“ Awake, O Oraka! The breath of Te Wira is here!
What would you have?" comes in a distinct voice from
the tree just above them.
The tohunga moves uneasily, like one who is about
to awake.
“ Arise! Arise, Oraka! Te Wira is come!” says
a deep voice from the ground directly beneath them.
“ Who calls ? " asks the tohunga between gapes, as he
sits up and looks about him.
“ The shade of Te Wira, o Oraka! You summoned
me, and I am come. Greetings to you, my best of
friends! To the pakeha, greetings! What would you
have?" comes in a strong voice from a point just be-
hind them.
“ Question the spirit, my son, and it will answer,"
directs the tohunga.
6 Tell me, 0 Ariki! who caused thy death,” says
the young man in awe-stricken voice.
“ The pakeha! James Moreton, the pakeha!” comes
the prompt response from the upper air.
The young man coughs a little nervous cough, and, as
if in answer to it, a cavernous, rasping, blood-
curdling laugh rolls up from the roots of the burial-
tree.
The tohunga springs to his feet and gazes in abject
horror in that direction.


2018
JUNE 13TH
THE JYSTERY
Again comes the awful moeing laugh, followed by an
unearthly voice.
“ The spirit lies! It is not the Ariki! Its name is
Oraka! Behold! I am Te Wira!”
This time the voice comes from high up in the trees
behind them.
The old man, with his grey hair erect upon his head,
his countenance ashen pale, and terror shaking at his
every limb, turns toward the spot whence the voice pro-
ceeds. A stilling odour of sulphur pervades the air,
and a sickly bluish light plays about the earth just in
front of the bushes to the right of the burial-tree. Then
comes again the awful mocking laugh, its bubble-like
gutturals bursting from the ground almost beneath
their feet, followed by the words:
“I say the spirit lies! It is Oraka, not the Ariki, and
it dare not show itself. Behold me, and say if I am not
Te Wira’s spirit!”
There is a flash of light and a ghostly form is seen to
rise from the ground. At first its outlines are cloud-
like and indistinct, but as the old man, with eyes start-
ing from their sockets, stares at the awful presence, it
assumes a definite shape,—the shape of the young
chieftain, Te Wira, the murdered Ariki! The old
man lets fall his spear and staggers back into the
young man's arms. He assays. to speak, but his
throat is filled with hot sand, and Horror grips the
hinge of his tongue.
“ You have asked me who killed me,” continued the
presence. “Tell him, O Oraka! and this time tell the
truth!”
The tohunga would fall but for his companion's sup-
port.
“ I do not know," he gasps.
" Thou liest, Oraka!” comes in awful tones from the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
309
ground beneath his feet. The apparition raises its
spear and advances. “ Down on thy knees and speak
the truth before I blast thee!”
The old man drops to the earth.
“ Mercy! Mercy!” he shrieks in grovelling fear.
“Mercy! What mercy showed you me! Mercy!
Ha! ha! ha! ha!” gurgles the bubbling laugh from the
roots of the burial-tree; and “Ha! ha! ha! ha!” comes
from high up behind them.
“ Speak, o Oraka! ere I wither you where you kneel.
Who killed Te Wira ? "
“ Haimond Patone! Mercy! have mercy!” hoarsely
cries the old man.
“ And who hired him to do it, and then fastened the
crime upon the pakeha ?-Speak and speak truly, or
Atua in lizard's shape shall eat your vitals.”
Again the apparition raises its spear.
“ Mercy! Have mercy! 'Twas I-I hired him.
Mercy! I'm an old man, mercy!” and he falls from his
knees prone upon his face.
The awful laugh is heard again from beneath the
burial-tree, and then high up in the air. The apparition
slowly fades and soon vanishes altogether.
Henry Lloyd Harcourt turns and looks about him.
Te Maire, spear in hand, is at his very elbow.
“I thank you, Mr.· Harcourt !” he says, speaking
with difficulty. “ You have shown Oraka to be the
basest of murderers, and stained my conscience with
much innocent blood; yet better that, than that a
groundless vengeance should continue.” He picks up
an armful of wood and throws it upon the fire. Then,
going to the tohunga, he stands for a moment in silence
looking down upon him.
“Get up, O Oraka!” he says at length, prodding him
with his spear.
with difficulty: orers, and stainter that, th


310 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Who calls Oraka? ” demands the old man, whose as-
surance has in a large measure returned to him.
“ It is I, Te Maire !”
“ Oh, only Te Maire! Te Maire, whose great-
grandfather was chewed by the Patupo when hungry
for blood-meat! Te Maire, indeed! What has Te
Maire "
But the other does not suffer him to finish.
“Enough!” he cries in a voice which makes the old
man tremble, though he will not permit his enemy to
know it.
“ Rise up! Rise up, Oraka! Rise up, you traitorous
murderer, for this night I shall kill you!” and Te
Maire pricks the old man with the spear.
With an agility surprising in a man of his years, the
tohunga springs to his feet and seizes his spear.
“ Thou hadst ever a deep throat but shallow sinews,
Te Marie!” he cries defiantly.
“ Thou wilt find either deep enough to drown thee,
Oraka!” retorts the other..
“Oh! bale the water out of thy mouth! "
“ That I may fill it with thy blood-it shall be done !
Stand forth that I may kill thee!” and Te Maire rushes
at the tohunga with leveled spear.
The old man meets him .with a blow that well-nigh
disarms him, and has the effect of recalling him to his
more sober senses. In his day Oraka had been the first
spear among the Mohakakas and, although size and
strength are in Te Maire's favour, the priest's superior
skill renders the contest all but equal. The larger man
suddenly realises this fact, and settles himself for a long
and careful conflict. It will not do for him to make a
single mistake, for the great skill of his adversary would
never pass it by. He pauses, therefore, in his headlong
rush and maneuvres for an opening.
Forth that I m leveled speari blow the
Stand forhunga with him .with of recalling



" 'DOWN ON THY KNEES AND SPEAK THE
TRUTH BEFORE I BLAST THEE!”





THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 311
Oraka, who fears only that his strength may give out,
dreads a long conflict, and seeks to taunt his opponent
into making a rash charge.
“How say you? " he cries to the onlookers. “Would
not a boy do better with a reed? Te Maire is a coward
whose words pour out like the ocean, but whose deeds
come drop by drop. His courage is all in his legs, as
you will see by and by!” and he makes a vicious lunge
at his opponent, who narrowly escapes being impaled
upon his spear.
A look of grim determination settles upon Te Maire's
face as he advances, with cat-like caution, upon his
agile antagonist. He understands clearly the tohunga's
purpose, and avoids the offensive as much as he can,
and still not give Oraka breathing space. Both com-
batants constantly shift about the fire in the attempt to
secure the advantage in the matter of light. In so
doing Te Maire passes in front of a log. Instantly his
opponent seizes his opportunity, and charges furiously.
Te Maire steps back to cushion the onslaught. His
heels strike the log, and, in the attempt to regain his
balance, he momentarily lays himself open. Swift as
thought Oraka's spear enters the breach, and pierces
his left arm.
“ Ha! I shall chew thee soon!” cries the old man
tauntingly.
Fortunately for Te Maire his wound is not serious,
though the blood is flowing freely from it. He makes
no reply to the tohunga's taunts, but quickly catches
the old man's spear with the point of his own.
For a moment the two weapons play about each other
with circular flashes of light, and then Te Maire gives
his opponent a sudden whip-like stroke, so forcibly de-
livered that it crowds him back and brings him to his
knees. The old man is hard pressed, but he does not lose


312 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
his presence of mind. Te Maire, following up his ad-
vantage, impetuously hurls himself upon his kneeling
foe, and, for a moment, the end is plainly in sight. Just
as his spear is about to enter the tohunga's breast, how-
ever, the old man falls adroitly to the right, avoiding
the thrust, while, at the same time, he dextrously trips
his onrushing opponent with the butt end of his spear,
bringing him to the ground.
With the agility of tigers both men spring to their
feet and again face each other. Te Maire is grim,
quiet, watchful and determined. Oraka is flushed and
angry, and his breath comes quickly. The protracted
exertion is beginning to tell upon him. Again he tries
to enrage his antagonist by the worst insults which can
be visited upon a Maori.
“No wonder thou art a coward! As the dog is, so is
the pup. Thy great-grandfather was chewed; thy
grandfather was a tutua, a no-account pikau-man; 1
thy father was taken prisoner; thy mother was a slave;
and I remember well when thou thyself wert but a hapu
man,-a mere serf. I shall honour thee overmuch in
killing thee!” and he makes a mighty lunge at his an-
tagonist's heart. Te Maire adroitly side-steps it, and
assumes the offensive. His face is ashen pale; his
brows narrowed; his jaws set! The tohunga's insults,
being founded on fact, have at last pierced his armour
of patience. The effect, however, is not altogether what
Oraka could wish, since Te Maire merely becomes
furious without in the least relaxing his vigilance.
Again the spears catch and circle about each other,
and again the whip-like stroke nearly brings the older
man to his knees. He retains his feet, however, but is
badly shaken. Te Maire sets a terrible pace for him to
follow. The spears clash with a rapidity which defies
the eye and confuses the ear. Oraka's guarding grows
1 See glossary.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 313
sluggish, and he narrowly escapes being pinked. His
mouth is open and he is gasping for air.--He is wholly
on the defensive now.
Again the spears play about each other, and again
the terrible whip-like stroke,—this time in an upward
direction,-shakes the old man. He clings to his spear
with every ounce of strength he can command, and the
shaft breaks off close to his hand. He has barely time
to close his eyes ere Te Maire's weapon transfixes him,
and he falls a limp mass upon the ground.
The victor withdraws his spear from the wounded
man, and thrusts its bloody point into the fire, as if to
cleanse it. He evinces no elation, and he utters no
word.
The stricken man turns partly over and tries to indi-
cate that he has some confession to make. His lips
move, but only inaudible whispers come from them.
Finally, as if by an almost superhuman effort, he voices
the words:
“ Te Maire-James-Moreton's—child— ” But at
this point his voice again dies to an inaudible whisper.
Something of grave import seems to weigh on the old
man's conscience, to judge by the almost frantic efforts
he appears to be making to speak.
Maitland goes to him and bends low to listen, but the
dying man motions him away and manages to whisper
the name, “ Te Maire.”
“ The message is for you, Te Maire,” says Maitland.
The victor kneels by his prostrate foe, and bends low
his head to listen. The wounded man's voice becomes
audible.
“ Te Maire, take-take that!” he cries, as he plunges
a dagger into his enemy's breast.
“Ha! ha! ha! ha! If death be fern-root, this is a
relish! Ha! ha! ha! ha! ”


314 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
But Te Maire seizes him by the throat, and chokes to
silence the demoniacal laugh.
Maitland and Tomo rush forward, and the former is
about to draw the dagger from the kneeling man's
breast when Te Maire deters him.
“ Suffer it to remain,” he says. “I shall last longer
if the blood be kept back.—Write as I dictate-as
quickly as possible,” continues Te Maire, with great
effort.
66 To the Runanga. James Moreton was innocent of
our Ariki's death. Haimond Patone assassinated
him.-Oraka bribed him to do it. I heard him confess
it, and have killed him for it. He has done for me,
also. Tomo and the pakeha will give particulars. In
killing the elder Moreton I spilled innocent blood. Make
what amends you can. His grandchild still lives. Her
name is Alis Ora Leigh, and she wears upon her bosom
the brand of the Thirteen. Tomo knows her.-Oraka
poisoned Haimond Patone. Farewell! Farewell to you
all, O my people Have you it written? "
“ Yes," Maitland answers.
“ Then let me sign it,” replies the other, for the first
time removing his hands from Oraka's throat.
The universal Destroyer has varnished the old priest's
staring eyes with the dead-finish of death, and primed
his face in ashes, for the painting of the grave.
Te Maire takes the paper and while Maitland and
Tomo support him, the young Stetson holds a board
for him to write upon, he slowly and painfully affixes his
signature.
“You will deliver it at once—Tomo" he says, with
the death-rattle already in his throat.
“ And how about those who have captured, and are
planning to kill, Adrian Moreton? ” Tomo asks, fearful
lest his question may come too late.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 315
“1-I know-nothing of them I did not know he
had been molested,” says Te Maire.
“ But you killed the father? ” says Maitland.
“ Yes,—Tomo's brother and I. He's dead-and-
I- "
" —And you killed his son, James, too,” George in-
· terrupts, fearful lest death may rob him of Te Maire's
confession.
“I–I went—to America—for—for just that pur-
pose. I-became a follower of—of Rachel Eichberg
because--she had International Wireless stock. I
wanted to get to the meeting as someone's proxy-
so I induced her to-make me her-representative.
I-meant to kill Moreton-after-the meeting,
when I could get his head,—but I lost my temper at
an outrage—he put upon me, and forgot everything
but the the indignity and—and precipitated-a
quarrel at the meeting.-The lights went out-and-
and "
“ And in the darkness you struck him down,” again
interrupts Maitland.
“I-I meant to kill-him-after the meeting,-and-
and his blood, toomis on my soul!” replies the dying
man faintly.
“ Yes, yes, I know!” says George impatiently. “You
meant to kill him after the meeting, but you did kill
him just as it was called to order. Is it not so ?”
“ No! I-I killed the father, but my hand-never
harmed—the son! I am-innocent of-the-act,
though guilty in-intent.-Good-bye!”
John White, or Te Maire, is dead.
Henry Lloyd Harcourt, or George Maitland, is dum-
founded.


CHAPTER VI
Death is the last item in Life's column; the ending link of its
noisy chain; the closing figure of its phantasmagoric dance. Why,
then, should a man care what characters will be written after his
total is struck? Can he fear that its sum will be altered? What
does it matter to him whether his body be reduced to its lowest
chemical terms via the digestive apparatus of man, of vultures,
or of worms, since thither is it bound in any event? Alas! we are
not all philosophers; and the streaming filaments of uprooted
sentiment float across the yawning chasm of the open grave, and
out into the Great Unknown. The temple of the soul will still
be our erstwhile home after it is tenantless, wherefore glowing
memories cast bright, throbbing beams of hope, and long, dark
shadows of fear, into a future taciturn, echoless-silent.
On the morning following Te Maire's death both Mait-
land and Tomo were summoned before the Runanga, or
Council, that they might tell all they knew of the affair.
Tomo did most of the talking, and described the events
of the last few hours with a particularity of detail for
which the Maori is certainly justly celebrated.
As soon as Maitland was dismissed by the Runanga he
hastened to his house to read a letter he has just received
from his friend Willard. It ran as follows:
“MY DEAR GEORGE: I have yours written from Honolulu. You
would scarcely believe me if I told you how overjoyed we all were
to hear from you.-But I must tell you the news. Shortly after you
left, the officers began to make life a burden for Charles Bertram.
They shadowed him everywhere he went. What they expected to
learn by chasing this gentleman and his lady all over New York,
they have never, thus far, confided to the public. Well, as you
once remarked, “Charlie Bert' is an odd stick, and he didn't catch
the humour of the situation,-if there were any. You will remem-
ber that almost his entire interest is given to four things, to wit:
'The Eichberg,' as they call her; the study of anatomy, athletics,
and chess. About the first I know but little,—the gentle sex being
316


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
317
rather more in your line than mine. As for the second, I have
been told by those who profess to know, that he can dissect a
cadaver in a way that would be a revelation to many an old anat-
omist. My informant also dropped the hint that more than one
of the bodies, which the recently convicted gang of grave-robbers
confessed to stealing, passed under Mr. Bertram's scalpel. His
fondness for surgery amounts almost to a mania. In respect
to his third great interest-athletics—he assuredly excels. His
strength surpasses anything I have ever witnessed in the unpro-
fessional world. I have seen him place the palms of his hands
beneath the elbows of a man weighing one hundred and ninety
pounds, raise him from the floor, and carry him in this position
across the room, with such ease and steadiness that you could not
even hear his steps upon a hardwood floor!
“ It seems that Burke and Sheehan's constant espionage worried
Charlie a deal more than he thought best to admit. I noticed his
daily increasing pallor and nervousness, and tried to ascertain
what caused it all. He made me evasive replies, and I finally
concluded that something had gone wrong in his relations with
Miss Eichberg. Imagine my surprise when I learned, a few days
later, that Charlie Bert" had assaulted Officer Burke with a
surgical instrument while that functionary was shadowing him.
But for the fact that the thing occurred on a crowded thorough-
fare where assistance was plenty,—Broadway, near Bleecker, at
2 P. M.!-it would have been all up with one of your stupid rivals.
It took six men to disarm Charlie, and when the whole seven finally
got into the ‘hurry-up’ wagon, it was an open question whether
the six put Charlie in, or he put them in, everybody seemed
pleased to get in. Well, at the police station they ascertained
that the prisoner was as "crazy as a loon,' and removed him at
once to an asylum. What reason do you suppose he gave for
assaulting Burke?—Guess again! No; once more! That's your
third strike! Well, sir, he said Burke's left eye toed in and he
was only going to cut the rectus internus muscle to straighten it!
They did just right to arrest him! What would become of us
doctors were such free treatments permitted? I couldn't help
thinking about the chap Maudsley tells about, who committed a
crime in the hope that he would be taken back where he could
see the windmills.
“ Bertram's mind had become unhinged by the worry and annoy-
ance of the officers' suspicions, and it may be that there was a
measure of fear mixed with it. When I looked into his history
it was all as inevitable as lying among lawyers. His father was
a dipsomaniac; his grandfather committed suicide; his mother
had hysteria, and his sister is a deaf mute. You have, perhaps,
noticed that the pupils of Charlie's eyes are not of equal size, and
that there is a slight peculiarity in his articulation. In fact,
'Charlie Bert' and his sister are the last links in a long chain of


318
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
W
degeneration extending far back in both his mother's and father's
families. The alienists believe Charlie will soon be cured, relying
much,too much, perhaps,—upon his splendid physique, and the
results of two similar attacks which he has had in the past.
“I visited him yesterday, and he appeared perfectly rational
upon all subjects, and discussed his condition with rare good sense.
So much for that.
“I have seen Eric Montrose several times. He tells me he hopes
to get the affairs of The International Wireless in satisfactory
shape before long. He believes Moreton's death was the best
thing that could have happened for the company, and I guess he's
right.
* I called on Elbert Reiss yesterday, and met Mrs. Moreton
there. She is as young and beautiful as ever. They were in the
inner room, and the artist was playing a violin selection to her.
I paused in the studio,—the music held me spellbound! The
fellow plays like a great maestro. Strange, isn't it, that in nature's
lottery one man draws half a dozen superb talents which group
themselves into genius, while the next fellow draws only the
plentiful blanks of mediocrity and insufficiency? It's blank
injustice!
“ Reiss is looking thin, pale and haggard can you imagine it?
As a physician, I have no hesitancy in pronouncing him a sick
man. The dominant note in his music was like the despairing cry
of a lost soul, and the same hopeless appeal is in the man's eye. I
grew womanish looking at him.
“Miss Sherwood has been away from New York for a week or
more, now, I am told. Her physician became alarmed about her
health and sent her into the country.
“Oh, by the way, George, I took that typewriter-nightmare
which you call a 'cryptogram'-though I think 'cryptogam'
would be a better name, since, so far as I can see, the thirg is
never likely to blossom into any visible importance, or to bear any
perceptible seed or fruit;—I took it, I say, to the Madame as you
suggested. She was right glad’ to see me, as they say out West,
. and quite willing to undertake the solution of the cipher-for a
consideration; though she told me in advance that she could guar-
antee nothing, and that I must be contented with what they gave
her. They, in this sense, is in number, singular or plural; in
gender, masculine or feminine; in tense, present-or absent; in
mood, subjunctive, with a big 'if,' and in voice (in this case),
active and silent, for she used a pencil as before, and rested her
hand upon one of those wooden grasshoppers on wheels,-you
know what I mean,-a plain-cheat, or some such name; one of
those things which you scientific fellows explain to your own
satisfaction, at least,-by what you call the dominant idea.'
What do you suppose she wrote?


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 319
“I did not wish to trust the Madame's paper to the mails, so I
placed it against a window-pane, superimposed this sheet upon it,
and traced off the original, line for line, as you see it here.
« « The interests of the living forbid the translation of this
cipher. Let it be destroyed and forgotten.—'JAMES ELDREDGE
MORETON.
“Now, the astonishing thing, George, in connection with this
affair, is the indisputable fact that the handwriting is an enlarged
copy of the dead man's own hand. I got several letters from
Dr. Carew which Mr. Moreton had written him but a few months
before his death, and traced from them the composite parts of the
above communication. The likeness virtually amounted to iden-
tity, in all save the matter of the size of the characters! How do
you account for it? Isn't it wonderful? I confess, the Madame
has me guessing. Of one thing, however, I feel morally certain,
viz., if that rebus is ever to be solved, you'll have to do it.
“So you're a ‘Britisher' with yellow mutton-chops, eh? I
should think that your ship would require a torpedo-net to keep
the mermaids off! My! but you must look,—to use the appropri-
ate and fetching vernacular,—'just too awfully nice for any-
thing!' Don't shave the sweet things off, George. Many a man,
if he carefully explored the source of his success, would soon find
himself entangled in his own whiskers. There isn't anything on
earth, of the same actual weight, that is psychologically so pon-
derous as a whisker! But shout folly through the right kind of a
beard, and an admiring public will read such wisdom into your
twaddle, as shall well-nigh crack your pate in its bump of self-
esteem.
“No; Mrs. Moreton has not been arrested as yet, though I hear.
that our official friends have an eye upon her.
“ Concerning your conundrum as to how the murderers of James
Moreton took his body from the room while a small army of us
guarded the door, I have nothing to offer,—or less. Upon this
subject my powerful mind is a clean blank,—the most immaculate
thing, in fact, about me. I might tell you perhaps,—but I won't!--
who owned those myste-e-rious fingers, but upon this other matter
you must consider me an unreplying void.
“In regard to your exposition (maybe you didn't intend to
expose it) of the four-dimensional hypothesis, I can only say that
I find my head possessed of but one dimension, namely, thickness.
If I can get rid of that I shall be a point, and may be able to
see the same.
“I suppose, ere this, you have found your head, or learned that
it is gone forever. All well and send love.
“Good-bye and success.
“ Your friend,
“ EDWARD WILLARD.”


320 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
A little after sunrise, on the day following Te Maire's
funeral, Tomo called at the pakeha's house, and aroused
its occupant from sleep. He had just received an im-
portant and urgent communication. During the night
a slip of paper had been placed in one of his shoes, how,
or by whom, he was powerless to say.
He handed the paper to Maitland who, sitting up in
his bed, read aloud as follows:
“ To Tomo: We demand absolute secrecy of you. If not pre-
pared to grant it, read no farther, but burn this at once!'”
“ Whoever wrote that understood human nature, I must
say!” interpolated Maitland.
“If you wish to be one of us, and can be trusted; read on!
We are to feast to-night, as soon as it is quite dark, upon a long
white pig which we have caught. It will be fine eating! It seemed
too bad that you, who knew the white pig so well, since you were
set to watch him, should not have a taste. You will understand.
If you are with us say nothing, but come at once.
Follow the Mohaka River westward for about
twenty-five miles. Just before it turns in a south-
erly direction a tributary enters it from the north.
Follow this toward the Te Whaiti Mountains, and
you will come to a brook which flows into the
stream from the west. Stop here and look at the hills. You will
see a long fissure high up in the rocks. Go to it, and when near
enough to be heard, call · Tomo' thrice, and await
my coming. If you would partake of the pig's
choicest cuts, be there by dark. Remember; no
word!
“ Your fellow-avenger,
It is nightfall in the flume near the Te Whaiti moun-
tains. A large hangi has been prepared and is already
alight. Within plain sight of this primitive oven sits
a young Anglo-Saxon with newly tattooed face. By his
side is a pile of food-baskets woven from the leaves of the
flax plant.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
321
The young man is Adrian Canova Moreton, and he is
at this moment trying to reconcile himself to the fact
that in less than an hour his decapitated and dismem-
bered body will be cooking on yonder pile of hot stones;
while in less than three hours it will be eaten from the
baskets beside him, by the very men with whom he has
lived for the last few days.
When he can endure the suspense no longer, he calls
one of his captors to him, and asks:
“ How long is it before I am to die?”
The Maori glances at the hangi and replies:
“ As soon as the stones are red-hot.”
“ And how am I to be killed?” questions the prisoner.
“I shall drive this little dagger through your heart,
and then behead you,” the other answers, exhibiting a
dagger with a curiously shaped handle.
“May I look at the weapon? " the captive asks.
The Maori makes no reply, but passes him the dagger.
Adrian examines it closely, and sees upon the blade
the fatal hieroglyph, with which, alas! he has become so
familiar. He mutters a short prayer, closes his eyes,
and raises the weapon aloft to plunge it into his heart!
He will at least die by a friendly hand. Before he can
accomplish his purpose, however, his captor has arrested
his arm, and taken the weapon from him.
« Oh, no; that would never do!” he cries.
“ Since I am to die and be eaten, what can it matter to
you by whose hand I fall?" Adrian inquires.
“ It does matter greatly!” exclaims the Maori. “I
am but doing the will of others. This feast has been
entrusted to my care by the council of Te Toke, a secret
society organised to reap in earnest the vengeance with
which our Runanga has but played. If, without good
cause, I fail in executing my orders in any particular, I
shall soon disappear from my friends, even as you have


322 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
disappeared from yours, and that will be the end of
me.”
“ Why is the society called 'Te Toke,' or, as we would
say in English, “The Worm’?”
« Does not the white man say that the worm will turn
when trodden on?” asks the Maori. “ The members of
Te Toke mean to sting the foot that has crushed one
of their brothers."
“ But it is not my foot," objects Adrian.
“ It is all the same," replies the other. “The son
grows to the father's boot, and your religion teaches us
that the suffering of the innocent may atone for the sin
of the guilty. What we are about to do, therefore, is
pleasant in the sight of your God.”
At this juncture a young Maori approaches, and says:
“ The stones are red-hot, O Patupo! All is ready for
the long white pig!”.
Adrian's heart sinks within him, but he springs to his
feet determined to battle in a hopeless contest for his
life. A trio of young warriors spring upon him from
behind, and, after a brief but fierce struggle, the white
man is overpowered and securely bound with withes of
wiwi rush.
Patupo approaches him with the dagger, and cries in
a loud voice:
“ Behold, brethren in Te Toke! In the name of
Vengeance and The Worm, I make you the feast of the
long white pig! Shade of Te Wira look down upon us,
and see how well we remember!” He raises the dagger
to strike, but pauses as his victim fixes him with a stead-
fast gaze.
“ Avert your face!” he commands; “ your eyes disturb
me.”
“ And well they may, Patupo!” exclaims the white man.
“ You are about to spill innocent blood, and my face and


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 323
my spirit shall ever haunt you! If the dead can take on
animal form, there will soon be a lizard tearing at your
vitals! Now strike! I will not avert my face! I have
lived with my eyes open; so shall I die. Let me turn
toward the light !”
There is something in the white man's voice that awes
his captors, and they suffer him to face the fire.
“ Strike!” he commands ;“ and make a lizard of me, that
I may gnaw your inwards !”
The face of Patupo wears an inexplicable expression,
as he lowers his arm irresolutely. Perchance it is due
to this worst of all threats which can be visited upon a
superstitious Maori, and perhaps it results from some
real qualm of conscience. However, be the source of
this executioner's hesitation what it may, he speedily
overcomes it, and again raises the dagger aloft. The
weapon is close to the prisoner's breast in its descent,
when a loud voice calls out from near the entrance to the
flume.
“Hold, Patupo!”
Patupo stays his arm, and looks in the direction whence
the sound proceeds. A man is running toward him at
breakneck speed. When about twenty paces away, he
suddenly halts and exclaims: “Quick! a word with you
alone!”
The executioner hurries to him.
“ Speak, Matuku! What has happened?” he cries in
an excited voice, quite audible to his intended victim.
“ Tomo is yonder with a score of white men! They
have already begun to climb the hill, and every man has
a rifle!” replies Matuku in feverish haste.
“ What is to be done, Matuku? Shall we leave his
body here and strive to escape with his head? ” asks
Patupo.
“ That would mean death to us!” replies the other.


324 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Tomo has betrayed us. If we kill our captive they
will follow us relentlessly. If we spare him, they will
not dare to press us too closely lest we kill him in order
to lighten our burdens.”
“ And you would suggest- ?"
“ That we swear him to leave New Zealand; to permit
himself to be reported as dead; to change his name, and
never, on pain of a death worse than that he now escapes,
to make known to his family, to his friends, or
to any other human being, that Adrian Moreton still
lives."
“ But Te Toke?”
“ Te Toke need never know. We will say we killed
him, but could not secure his head. He cannot conceal
his identity from us, for we know his moko. If he does
not leave New Zealand, and keep away from America,
we can easily reach him. We have nothing to fear from
any other countries.”
“How long before they will be upon us?”
“ A matter of twenty minutes. Their progress is slow,
because they dare not use a light.”
“ There's much sound sense in what you say, Matuku,
-though my mouth waters to taste once more the sweet
flesh of a long white pig. Let us see if the prisoner will
swear to do our bidding,” says Patupo, as they both
go to him.
“ Adrian Moreton,” Patupo begins, “ things have hap-
pened which lead us to offer you your life upon certain
conditions. If you will — "
“ Spare yourself the trouble to name them; for I have
heard all you have just said, and will swear to all you
ask!” replies the prisoner, with such a thrill as comes to
those only who are born again from the womb of the
grave,
“ Unbind him, Matuku! Now kneel and repeat what I


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
325
say. Kiss the cross of this dagger, and hold aloft your
right hand. I, Adrian Canova Moreton- "
“1, Adrian Canova Moreton,”—repeats the prisoner.
“ Do solemnly swear before God and my captors "
“ Do solemnly swear before God and my captors— "
“ That I will immediately leave New Zealand for-
ever, "
The prisoner repeats each sentence of the oath pro-
pounded by his captors word for word.
“ And that I will never set foot again-in the United
States of America !”
“I swear, before God and my captors, that I will
change my name
“ And that Adrian Moreton shall henceforth be
dead ”
“ Dead to his family; to his friends; and to all the
world !”
“ That I will write and sign whatever Matuku may
dictate;"
“ And that I will do nothing which may lead your
secret society to suspect that I still live.”
" So help me God!”
“ And if I break any single one of these pledges "
“I pray God that my mother and my sister "
“ May be eaten alive by my captors, "
“ And that my own eyes may be swallowed warm, as
were those of Te Tihi; ”
“ And my living body blown from a carronade, as was
that of Tiki Whenua!”
“And may my spirit be hurled into the bottomless
crater of Tarawera, "
“ To sink to the bowels of its lowest hell ! Amen!”
And the prisoner repeats:
“ To sink to the bowels of its lowest hell! Amen!”
6 Now rise and follow Matuku. You have nothing to


326
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
fear so long as you keep your oath. If you violate it,
you know what will happen to your mother, your sister
and yourself! Is your torch ready?” continues Patupo,
as he turns to Matuku.
“ It is ready,” laconically replies the other.
“ Into the cave, then you know its secrets! See Mr.
Moreton in safety to its farthest entrance, and there
leave him to pursue his way alone. The rest of us will
take the shorter, right-hand passage, after barricading
the mouth of the cave,” says Patupo.
Matuku and his charge hurry into the cavernous open-
ing, and their torch is soon lost to view in the cave's
long, tortuous corridors.
Patupo throws an armful of dry grass upon the fire in
the hangi, and then looks down the flume toward its
entrance. His practised eye detects a slowly moving
line of black against the deep grey of the granite
shadows.
“Quick, my men!” he shouts as he springs into the
cave, followed by his accomplices.
The line of black breaks into spots which are seen rush-
ing toward the mouth of the cave.
“Up with the logs !” cries Patupo. “Good, now we're
off ! »
Tomo and Maitland are the first to reach the barricade,
which they vainly try to dislodge.
“ It is of no use, Tomo,” says Maitland at length. “It
will yield only to fire, and by the time we had burned it
down our quarry would be miles hence. We can do
nothing further to-night, and may as well bivouac here
by the fire. We have prevented the feast, and saved Mr.
Moreton for the moment, at all events. I saw him enter
the cave with a man who carried a torch."
The men add fuel to the fire, and lie down by it to rest.
They have all had a long, hard day, and are soon fast
line ofe, His then holl of dry


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 327
asleep. No watch is kept; for New Zealand has no ani-
mals—other than human—which man need fear.
It was broad daylight when Maitland awoke to see
Tomo standing over him with two slips of paper in his
hand.
He passed the sheets to Maitland saying:
“ They were pinned to my sleeve when I awoke. I have
no idea how they came there ;—perhaps by the same
hand that left the note which I found in my boot yester-
day morning.”
George unfolded the first, and read as follows:
“To Tomo: My life has been spared upon condition that I can
make the world believe Adrian Moreton dead, and that I leave
New Zealand and never enter the United States. If I fail, my
fate, and that of my mother and sister is sealed. I am permitted
to write this to you, but my family must think me dead. Please
have the enclosed published as my last words, and guard my secret
as you would my life,-for it is my life, and that of my dear
mother and sister as well. A dreadful secret society, organised
for vengeance and called Te Toke will strike me and mine
wherever we are, if their mandate is disobeyed. Be careful, there-
fore, O Tomo! Good-bye, forever, and God bless you!
“ ADRIAN C. MORETON.”
Maitland was too amazed to speak, and after a moment
Tomo said:
: “I have thought it best to disobey the letter of my
master's request by showing this to you, for fear that
otherwise you might succeed in proving him alive, and
so unwittingly do him an incalculable harm. Please
read the other note.”
Maitland complied. It ran as follows:
“TO WHOMSOEVER IT MAY CONCERN: My only brother has just
been murdered. My financial ventures are in a bad way. The
only woman who could have made me happy another has taken. I


328
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
am perfectly sane. Life is simply not worth the living, that is
all, and I have decided to end it. Break the news gently to my
mother and sister. In inflicting this upon them I choose by far
the lesser of two great evils. Farewell to all my loved ones! Do
not search for my body, for ere this is read it will be beneath a
thousand fathoms of water, where I shall have taken precautions
to see that it remains. We are an ill-starred family. All hope of
continuing our line dies with me, and it is well.
“ ADRIAN CANOVA MORETON.”
A long silence followed Maitland's perusal of this note.
It was finally broken by Tomo's single word of inter-
rogation:
« Well? ”
“ I should give this last communication to the authori-
ties,” George replied. “We have, of course, to con-
sider whether or not Mr. Moreton wrote these notes under
compulsion. Personally, I do not think he did, and at
all events, there seems to be nothing for us to do but to
follow their instructions,—terrible though they are.”
“ And you will keep his secret?” asked Tomo.
For a short space Maitland remained silent.
“ I leave for America as soon as I can get away,” he
at length replied, and then continued, in an awe-stricken
voice:
“I lock this dreadful secret in my breast, and you shall
hold the key. Neither here, nor there, will I, without
your permission, ever lisp so much as a syllable to indi-
cate that Adrian Moreton still lives !” and he extended
his hand as a ratification of his pledge.
The Maori seized it eagerly. The two men looked into
the depths of each other's eyes and spoke no word.


EPISODE SIXTH
The Mysterious Cryptogram





CHAPTER I
A witty Frenchman has said, that ever since the advent of the
first man who had brains enough to know he was born in one
place, instead of another, we have heard much about patriotism.
A famous Englishman has called patriotism the last refuge of
the coward. If, for love of our own country and its people, we
will read love of the whole world and of the human race, then
shall we rise above the petty, insignificant accident of latitude and
longitude, and attain to a conception of that wider, deeper,
grander patriotism, of which even the philosopher need not be
ashamed, or any man be forced to catalogue among his limita-
tions and his littlenesses. Is a man my brother because of what is
under his boot, or because of what is in his head? The real
thinker has but one country—the world; but one nation-human-
ity; but one religion-truth.
The reception which George Maitland's friends ten-
dered him upon his return from New Zealand was one
of which a king might well have been proud.
Simply to say that he was gratified would be to leave
most of the fact unsaid. He was, in sooth, deeply
touched at this evidence of esteem. The little party
manifested the keenest interest in his enthusiastic de-
scriptions of the social conditions of this antipodal
land, from which he had just returned; but seemed quite
at a loss to understand him, when he told them that there
was no political corruption in New Zealand. When
the truth was finally borne in upon them, they felt like
giving three cheers and a tiger for this far-away-alas!
so far away!perfection; but desisted, being New
Yorkers, at thought of the tiger.
Tomo, who when it came to parting with Maitland
at Auckland, had made an eleventh-hour decision not
to do it, was a source of unflagging interest to all
present.
So far away Teht of the tiga parting with ision not
331


332 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
The next morning Tomo received a marked copy of
The Napier Daily News, which had been forwarded to
him from New Zealand.
A single glance at the passage indicated caused him
to go at once to Maitland.
“ This will interest you, I am sure,” he said to Mait-
land. “I received it in this morning's mail.”
George followed the direction of Tomo's finger, and
saw the following in the column of personals:
“ ADRIAN CANOVA MORETON.
Te Toke has learned of your
father's innocence and re-
leases you, therefore, from any
and all pledges exacted of you.
New Zealand and all foreign
papers please copy.
learned short, Tallizzically
“Well, Tomo, what do you say?"
“It has the Sign of the Thirteen, you see," replied
Tomo. “ It is evident that the Society of Te Toke has
learned its mistake.”
“ In short, “The Worm' has turned again, eh?”
asked Maitland quizzically. “I wonder if this will come
to Mr. Moreton's eyes.”
“ God grant that it may !” exclaimed Tomo.
“ Amen to that! I suppose, Tomo, that you will now


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 333
be willing to release me from my promise to keep the
fact that Adrian Moreton still lives a secret."
“ There is no further need of concealment, now that
Te Toke publishes it, and has learned the truth,” the
Maori replied. “I give you back all your pledges.”
“What do you say,” said George, “ to spreading this
personal a bit ourselves? The Herald circulates abroad
as well as here. Why not take this over to them and
ask them to print it, while I write an acquaintance
in Napier to send me immediately a couple dozen
copies?”
“ It's a good idea, and I'll go at once," replied Tomo
briefly. “Who knows! we may be the means of bring-
ing it to Mr. Moreton's attention,” and he left the
room.
An hour later, having mailed his New Zealand letter,
Maitland was seated in Dr. Willard's office, enjoying
a renewal of that familiarity which had been interrupted
for so many weeks.
“Doc, it seems ages, doesn't it, since we've had a real
good pow-wow?” said George. “I've so much to tell
you that I don't know where to begin. We'll e'en to't
like French falconers, fly at anything we see.' What
answer have you to the various scientific problems I pro-
pounded? I grant I didn't explain them very clearly,
but I assure you the exposition was as clear as my
reasoning. I didn't see them any too vividly myself,
Doc. You see, as you approach ultimates, perception
gets more and more hazy and ill-defined, and if you are
able vaguely to touch a great fundamental principle
with your finger-tips, you're doing well."
“ That's just the way we doctors feel in many a diag-
nosis, only you'll never give us credit for it,” laughed
his companion.
“ Credit! You're the first doctor I ever knew who
good hat I don't know, Hy at anythihilic problems. Ieprily,


334
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
wanted credit for his work. All the others I ever saw
were after cash,” was the jocose rejoinder.
“ There you are again! When I pass my hand over
my self-respect," said the doctor, “ I find it all lumps,
where you've clubbed it;
“—But you do find it?--Ah! that, in itself, is a great
deal!” interrupted his companion.
“Well, I feel something there, anyway ;-maybe it's
my vanity,” Willard rejoined, and then continued more
soberly: “ Joking aside, George, aren't we a queer pro-
fession? Now here am I a-pouring drugs down Tom
Jones's throat for heart-failure, when the real seat of
his disease is in Congress. I am giving John Smith seda-
tives for his brain fever, when I ought to be putting a
cold compress on the attorney-general's ‘gozzle.' I'm
a-doctoring Bill Jenkins for a broken constitution, when
I ought to be fixing up the President for the same com-
plaint. I'm giving Dick Donovan cathartics, when I
know I ought to be putting the Supreme Court to its
purgation, as Hamlet would say; and I'm dosing a
dozen women for nerves, when I know perfectly well
that it's the nerve of a coal baron that's the sole cause
of their malady. I tell you, George, perfectly well per-
sons are getting as rare in this country as white black-
birds, and it's mainly due to social conditions."
“ And the mystery of it all is,” replied Maitland,“ that
intelligent people can't be made to see that they create
about themselves a psychic atmosphere more real and
farther reaching than the sea of air they constantly
breathe. How beautiful are Nature's laws! See how
each abuse breeds its own antitoxin, though the pity of
it is that it makes so large a part of its fibre from the
flesh of the innocent !”
“ Play that with variations, George; I don't get it,"
said Willard.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 335
“Why, take the trust magnates, as examples," con-
tinued his companion. “They rob and ruin and kill.
The paths they travel are like the swaths of the locust,
the wake of the army-worm, or the trail of desolation
left by a cyclone. Their dishonesty and greed produce
social conditions which furrow the brow of Care, and
give the anxious, timid pulse of dread to the great heart
of Labour. The poor victims suffer, as God alone
knows! and in their agony their tears and their blood
foul the psychic sea in which they swim side by side
with their tormentors. Then Nemesis begins to write
legibly! The oil magnate is unable to keep food upon
his stomach, my Lady Greed has nervous prostration,
and the new-born babe has fits! Social pirates sow
broadcast the seeds of psychic leprosy, and never
dream that they themselves, together with their nearest
and dearest, garner in the ripe infection.—Now, in New
Zealand—catch hold of my coat-tails, Doc, before I'm
translated !- If I get to soaring on New Zealand, I'll
not get back to earth all day.”
“Now, infidel, I have thee on the hip’!” ejaculated
the doctor in his most tragic gurgle.“ Tell me whose
fingers marked James Moreton's throat, or I let thee
sail off into the deep empyrean, till its white fire scorch
thee, yea, so help me, John Jacob Astorhouse!” and
he did in pantomime the curse-scene of “ Richelieu.”
“ Well, what do you think?" asked Maitland.
“ You know very well what I think; I am all but cer-
tain the marks were made by the victim's wife.”
“What! Mrs. Moreton! “You surely do not propose
to waste your time suspecting that queenly woman'!”
laughed Maitland.
“ Thank you! I recognise the quotation."
“ Guess again!"
“I guess Mrs. Moreton, I tell you."


336
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“You're like the youngster who, when asked what two
things he'd wish for, if he knew his wishes would be
fulfilled, replied, ' First, all the candy I want; and, sec-
ond, more candy!' Guess again!”
" Mrs. Moreton !”
“ Must I tell you in set phrase that the marks were not
made by Mrs. Moreton's fingers ? "
“ You must.”
“Well, then, they were not.”
“ John White?"
“ Oh, Doc! you can do better'n that.”
6. Charlie Bert,' then.”
“ • Charlie Bert' already has quite enough against
him without adding this. You'll have to count him
out."
“Well, Gates, then.”
“He's Bertram one remove off, and, so, still farther
out of it.”
“ Clarke, he was within reach. I guess Clarke !"
“ Wrong again.”
“It's most down to thee and me, George.”
“Never us, good doctor, for that were for the salt of
the earth to lose its savour. Try again; there are less
than a billion and a half people in the world. You must
hit it soon!”
“Perry, then!”
6 No."
“ Belcher!”
“ No."
“ Bartlett ! ”
“ No.”
" Ah, the Jew !-what's his name?”
“ Solomon Cohen ? "
“ Yes ! ”
6 No.”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 337
6 Wister? "
6 No."
“I give it up then, who was it?"
“ Elbert Reiss!”
“What! It's impossible!”
“Precisely! If it weren't, it couldn't be a fact in this
case. In the Moreton mystery, it's not only the ‘un-
expected,' but the impossible which occurs ! ”
“But Reiss is not that kind of a man, George.”
“ Maybe not; but he has that kind of a hand. There
is not a shadow of doubt about it. Elbert Reiss is a
superb violinist, as you know, and this fact is what
betrayed him. The nails of his right hand are per-
mitted to grow to a normal length, while those of his left
hand are pared almost to the quick, so that he may use
the calloused points of his fingers without the nails
interfering, and without danger of cutting the strings.
In trimming the nail of his left forefinger, or in some
other way, he slit it in the middle. The discontinuous
indentation of this nail, even cutting through the skin;
the bruised imprint of the callouses on the left hand;
and the mark of the nail of every finger of the right
hand, were unmistakably visible upon the dead man's
throat. Not another person in the room but had nails
of equal length upon each hand.”
“George, it is awful!”
“ All right; we'll change the subject. Just look at
this copy of a Te Toke personal published in The Napier
Daily News,” he said, passing his friend a paper," while
I talk to you of the Madame for a moment, after which
I must be off. Have you been able to come to any con-
clusion in regard to the two remarkable tests she
gave us?”
“No; I can't say that I have. What do you think?"
“I think," Maitland rejoined, “ that the Madame is a
threqual length is awfuhange the


338
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
remarkable woman; that she probably has quite a his-
tory, which will make more profitable reading than most
histories; that we had better peruse it; and that if I
am to pay my respects to Elbert Reiss to-day, I must
get right out of this,” saying which he bade his friend
good-bye, and immediately departed.


CHAPTER II
It is adversity, not prosperity, which breeds men; as it is the
storm, and not the calm, which makes the mariner. Prosperity
secretes the toxin of Calamity. From the crest of the financial
boom all commercial directions are downward; while from the
depths of panic all business lines lead upward. So is it with the
slough of despond. When the worst has happened we have gained
the wind of Fate, and only Death's dead calm can keep our belea-
guered craft from happier waters.
“ ELBERT, this sort of thing cannot continue forever.”
“No; God be praised!”
The first speaker was Mrs. Hortense Moreton; the sec-
ond, Mr. Elbert Reiss. They were in the artist's apart-
ments.
“Do you not see that you are losing ground every
day? " the lady continued.
“Well, and if so, what then?”
“ What then? Why, the end is inevitable, if you keep
on in this fashion!” exclaimed the lady.
The man gazed at her for a time, and the hard, glassy
look in his eyes gave place to a great tenderness. He
arose from his chair and went to her before he spoke.
“ The end has already come,” he said, gazing down
upon her with a wistful look upon his face.
“ Tell me what the trouble is; perhaps I can help
you!”
“ There is no help for me; no help but death."
“ If so, tell me your trouble, and I shall see it so."
“ The load is mine; its galling surfaces have calloused
my soul to endurance. Let it be; I dare not shift it
now. The burden soon will be my soul,-my soul the
burden!” replied the man hopelessly. “I cannot tell
even you.”
339


340
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Then will I tell you !” said the woman resolutely.
“ Let me beg that you will not !” exclaimed the man
hastily.
The woman continued as if he had not spoken:
“You are breaking your heart for someone who is
breaking her heart for you. You have made a terrible
blunder-
“_God only knows how well I know it!”
“ No, no, not that! I mean that there has been a
fearful misunderstanding."
“Pardon me; there has been no misunderstanding."
6. Will you not suffer me to explain? Elbert ! you are
doing Miss Sher "
6_Peace! do not speak her name! I cannot bear it!”
“ Oh! but you are doing her such an injustice!”
“ Be God her judge, not I!”
“ Your conduct is killing her!”
“ She will not want my pity-yet I am sorry."
“ She does not even suspect that I am pleading her
cause."
“ And would not permit it, if she did.”
“ When I learned the full truth of this awful misunder-
standing, learned the part my own husband played
therein,-I simply could not hold my peace. I came
directly to you, determined that you should at least
listen to me, your friend.”
“ And even you I must refuse. Believe me, Marie, I
am not ungrateful; but I cannot listen to any explana-
tion. The incident is closed! I have given Hope as
decent a burial as I could command, and must insist that
the grave be not tampered with.”
“ Be that as it may! I still must explain the dreadful
error- ”
66_Marie! I saw with my own eyes; heard with my
own ears. The dove turned snake even as I held it, and


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 341
struck its poisonous fangs into my very soul! Think
you, such a story must be told again? Repeat a tragedy
however oft you may, you will not make a comedy of it,
Let me beg you, Marie, to change the subject, and never
again to allude to it in my presence. Let the dead keep
their secrets ! ”
“Elbert, I have promised myself that you should hear
the truth, and I shall keep that pledge. This is no
time for squeamishness, Elbert!” she exclaimed excit-'
edly. “ Think what you will, only listen! When last
you called on Marion— "
But the man had rushed out of the room. The woman
stood irresolutely for a moment, then dropped helplessly
into a chair. There was a hurried step in the hall, and
Eric entered.
He stopped short as he saw her, and his face flushed.
The woman with the native quickness of her sex saw
and understood.
“ What has happened to Elbert?" exclaimed Eric.
“ He rushed by me on the stairway, and paid no heed to
my question.”
“ I tried to force upon him an explanation of his in-
justice to Miss Sherwood. He refused to listen."
“I am glad it is no worse."
“ Worse? Is it not about as bad as it can be?" re-
joined his companion. “Here are two beings eating
out their hearts for each other with this awful shadow
between them. I am at my wits' end. Will you not
help me, E-Mr. Montrose?”
Eric saw the wave of crimson which overspread the
beautiful face, and noted, too, the sudden formality of
the address, and his heart felt as if á hot fluid had sud-
denly been dashed over it.
“ Will you not help me?" repeated the woman, with
a tender supplication which made her look like an angel.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 343
Moreton, Reiss returned. Eric immediately left the
room for fear Elbert might ask him if anyone had called
during his absence.
For a long time the artist sat and gazed blankly into
space. He had done little or no work since that fatal
June thirteenth. He took up his violin and played a few
sobbing chords, only to put it down again as Maitland
entered.
“ I'm sorry to see you looking so fagged out, Elbert,"
he said. “What is the matter; working too hard ?”
“ No, indeed! I just feel a bit seedy, that's all. It's
not too much work, though it may be too much loafing."
“I think I shall have to take you in hand. May I
prescribe ? »
“ Yes, fire away,” Reiss replied, with a faint smile.
“ You can't mix up any medicine too nauseating for me,
Mr. Chemist; for I can take anything I can get through
my collar."
“ Good for you! Now, according to my diagnosis of
your complaint, the trouble is with your will you've
got too much of it where it oughtn't to be.”
“ Too much will!” ejaculated Reiss. “ Why, bless
you, man, I haven't any! I hesitated fully a minute in
dressing this morning because I couldn't determine
whether to put on my cuffs or my collar first. It took
me five minutes to decide between my tan and my black
shoes, and I came precious near compromising on one of
each. Will, indeed! I have far less than my wont.”
“Oh, that's awful! You'll surely have to take some-
thing for that I haven't time now to explain, for I
must be off. Will you be at my house to-morrow at two
o'clock, prepared to be put through a course of
sprouts '"
* I'll be there with my expectation set at danger,"
replied the artist.
dressinet to put on mocide between my romising on one, or


344 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ All right, then. Good-bye! To-morrow at two!
You might scratch off a fitting epitaph in the interim,"
said Maitland, with a laugh.
At two o'clock the men were in George's den, a good-
sized room divided in the middle by curtains, now looped
back, but which could, when Maitland desired it, be
allowed to fall so as to cut off the rear end of the apart-
ment.
This den was directly at the head of the front stairs,
and was only separated from the hallway by a portiere.
There was no door.
“ Are you ready for the question? ” said George to
his guest.
“ Yes; drive on,” Reiss replied.
“ All right, then, strip to the waist," Maitland re-
joined, throwing off his dressing-gown and disclosing
the fact that he had already followed his own mandate.
The artist did as requested, placing his clothing upon
a chair.
“Now then,” said Maitland as he took up his position
in front of Reiss, “ do just as I do and be careful of
details. Weight on both feet; heels together; chest up;
chin in. Take the weight off the hips. Raise the arms;
hands open, palms forward. Now slowly bend "
But his sentence was cut short by the voice of his wife
in the hall below.
“ Walk right into his den at the head of the stairs,
Mrs. Moreton, and I'll send him to you," said the voice.
“Shut the door, George! she's coming in here!”
shrieked the artist.
“ There isn't any door to shut !” exclaimed his com-
panion, seizing his dressing-gown and almost jumping
into it, while Reiss tried to roll himself up in one of the
ac Now then," secos do just as heels together the arms :


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 345
central curtains, without the somewhat necessary pre-
liminary of unfastening it.
“ Here, quick! get in back, and I'll draw the curtains
in front of you, till I can get rid of her!”
The disappearance was barely accomplished when Mrs.
Moreton entered the room followed by Marion Sherwood.
“ Oh! so you are already here, Mr. Maitland!” ex-
claimed the queenly Mrs. Moreton, in a tone which
would have passed anywhere for a genuine evidence of
surprise. "Your wife told us to walk right in and
said she would send you up. You will pardon me for
not knocking?”
“ If you and Miss Sherwood will excuse this some-
what negligee attire, we'll call it square," was Mait-
land's laughing rejoinder. “You see, ladies, the fact
of the matter is, I was taking a bit of physical drill
when I heard Mrs. Moreton's voice, and— ”
“_Ladies who enter gentlemen's apartments so uncer-
emoniously as we did have no right to be at all exacting,
Mr. Maitland,” said Miss Sherwood, with a faint at-
tempt at a smile.
“I told Miss Sherwood of the difficulties you were
experiencing, Mr. Maitland, in finding any clues to Mr.
Moreton's murderers, and explained to her how essential
it was that you should be able to account for every possi-
ble moment of his time on that fatal June thirteenth.
I at length persuaded her, in the interests of justice, to
open once more a subject most painful to her, and to tell
you every particular pertaining to the only visit she
ever received from Mr. Moreton,—the visit he made her
on the very day of his murder.”
“ It was not far from nine o'clock on the morning of
June thirteenth that Mr. Moreton called upon me,” Miss
Sherwood explained. “ Lenore admitted him. He said
he had called upon a matter too urgent to brook delay:


346
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
that his regard for me had forced him to be the bearer
of disagreeable tidings, and handed me these two news-
paper clippings. These atrocious calumnies affected me
deeply, and something—you will pardon me, Marie,–
something told me Mr. Moreton expected to profit by
them. I told him they were malicious, and that he might
have saved himself the trouble of putting them before
me since they would surely come to Mr. Reiss's attention,
and that he would bring them at once to me. Mr.
Moreton denied this vehemently,—and said he'd stake a
fortune that Mr. Reiss would never show me the
notices. Even while he voiced his denial, Mr. Reiss
was announced. A feeling of triumph took posses-
sion of me, and I said: “You see, I am right!' Not
yet, he has not yet told you of the notices!' he re-
torted. But he will! you shall see!' I exclaimed.
He shrugged his shoulders and replied with a sneer:
. Ah, doubtless :-after he has seen me and knows I have
already done so. “Oh! but he shall not see you! Here!
step into the alcove and draw the curtains. There! now
we shall see!' I cried, in an evil moment. “And you will
not tell him?' he asked, after I had concealed him.
'No; you will hear all that passes, and will see how you
have wronged Mr. Reiss,' I replied.”
“ And Lenore, where was she in the meantime? ” Mait-
land asked.
“ She was standing just inside the doorway, waiting
for me to tell her to admit Mr. Reiss,” replied Miss
Sherwood.
“ And when Mr. Reiss finally entered, what occurred?"
Maitland questioned.
“He showed me the clippings,” she replied, "and
seemed deeply affected by them—so deeply, in fact,
that I tried to make light of them. I told him I was
sure they were dictated by malice, and that we ought not


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 347
to pay any attention to them. He said he should be
forced to act as if the lies were true. I-there-there-
are some things so inexpressibly dear that it seems like
sacrilege to confide them to another; yet I know that it
is necessary.” A bright crimson flood poured itself over
her face and neck as she continued in a low voice, with
her eyes fixed upon the floor: “Mr. Reiss told me he
loved me, and I–I confessed my love for him. I had
long since forgotten that we were not alone-forgotten
everything but the man who was pouring out his heart
to me. For a moment he did not seem to understand
the purport of my confession. Then a great light came
into his face, and he caught me to him. As our lips
met Mr. Moreton sprang from behind the curtains
with a loud, mocking laugh. I--Mr. Reiss " But
she could not proceed. Great sobs choked her utterance
and shook her delicate frame as with an ague.
She continued with difficulty:
“ With an exclamation of disgust and loathing Mr.
Reiss threw me from him, and—and—I knew no more
till long after-both-he-and-and Mr. Moreton were
gone."
“ And you do not know what passed between the two
men? ” asked Maitland excitedly.
“ Yes ; Lenore told me when I regained consciousness.
She had heard me when I fell, and immediately after-
ward she felt the shock of Mr. Moreton's fall. When
she reached the room Mr. Reiss had his knee upon the
prostrate man's chest, and both hands clutched about
his throat."
“ How say you? Both hands about his throat!-you
are sure of this? ” cried Maitland, springing to his feet
and exhibiting a degree of excitement which neither the
women nor the man weeping behind the curtain could
comprehend.


348
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ I am sure Mr. Reiss had both hands about Mr. More-
ton's throat, for it was some time before Lenore could
get him to remove them, and permit the fallen man to
arise. As he did so he said to him: “ I'll keep my oath
on a more fitting occasion!' A minute later both men
had left the house. That—that is all, Mr. Maitland.”
“ Miss Sherwood, I scarcely know how to thank you!”
said Maitland, extending his hand impulsively toward
her. “Some day I will tell you what a load you have
lifted from my heart, and how much pain and annoy-
ance, if not actual danger, you have saved an innocent
man. By the elimination of one factor which has
troubled me sorely, you have greatly assisted me in the
conduct of this difficult case. I feel like a great brute
to have caused you so much pain," he said at length,
“ yet I believe, when you know fully my motives, you will
as fully forgive me."
“I wish to see Mr. Maitland a few minutes alone,
dear," said Mrs. Moreton gently. “Will you mind if
we leave you by yourself for just a little while? ”
“Not in the least, dear.”
A minute after the departure of her two friends
Marion heard a sound at the rear of the room. She
turned toward the curtains.
“Elbert!” she cried, springing to her feet and clutch-
ing at her heart. She staggered toward him-stopped,
groped for a chair to support her, missed it, and would
have fallen headlong had not the man caught her in his
arms.
“Darling, can you forgive me? Look up and say you
forgive me!” and he kissed her passionately.
A man and a woman in the hall heard the question, and
heard the kiss, at which they shook hands jubilantly,
and then stole like culprits softly down the back stairs.


CHAPTER III
Death is but the thought-nevermore-written in fact. Its real
essence is inaccessibility. When, therefore, some dear craft sinks,
as we believe, forever below our horizon, it is almost as if it went
down, with all our tender hopes and memories on board, in the
fathomless depths of Life's sea. Should a fickle or relenting Fate
ever permit it to sail back up the steep incline of night, and
unexpectedly to reappear upon the golden, shimmering rim of our
day, its advent will be a veritable new birth, for the Waters of
Despair will have given us back our dead.
On the following Monday Tomo waited upon Mait-
land. George saw at once that something quite out of
the ordinary had transpired, for the old man's face
actually beamed with delight.
“ It's plain to see that you have had pleasant news,
Tomo," said Maitland. What is it?"
“Oh, sir, it must have been what Te Toke put in the
papers that did it!”
"Did it? did what, Tomo? " Maitland asked.
“ Told my master he was safe, and brought him back
to me!” he cried.
“ Brought him back to you!” exclaimed George.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that Adrian Moreton is in America !-in
New York! Mr. Montrose has talked with him !-it
was he who told me about it. I am going to see him this
afternoon. Won't he be surprised, though, to find
me here? Mr. Montrose has made an appointment for
me, without hinting who it is who is going to call. I
am just ' a gentleman interested in the Moreton family.'
How he will stare at me!” and Tomo, unable longer to
control his feelings, paced up and down the room ges-
ticulating in dumb show.
t..Brought you meanrian Mor
and Tom the coing thatment ind
349


350
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“We are to be congratulated, Tomo, for things are
surely coming our way,” said George, extending his
hand to the Maori.
The old man seized it and pressed it with a will.
In one of the semi-dark, inside rooms of the Astor
House,—that memory of by-gone greatness,-sits a
bearded and tattooed man. His dark skin,-tanned by
exposure to sun and weather-beaten by a long sea-
voyage,-bespeaks him a foreigner to the casual glance,
an impression which is firmly driven home when the ob-
server, becoming accustomed to the half-light of the
room, detects the delicate, blue tracery of the man's
somewhat elaborate facial tattoo. Yet despite this
the man is a full-blooded American, as is clearly evinced
by the fact that he is at this very moment affixing the
signature,—“ Adrian Canova Moreton"_to a little
note addressed “Henry Forsythe Carew, M. D.”—a
note informing the physician of his arrival from New
Zealand to take charge of James's affairs, and asking
for an early interview.
There is a knock at the door, and the bell-boy enters
with a card.
An involuntary exclamation escapes the man as he
glances at it.
“ Tomo! Tomo here!” Then, turning to the boy,
“ Show the gentleman right up.”
A minute later Tomo enters the room.
“Ah! Tomo, this is an unexpected pleasure! I would
have staked my life that you were on the other side of
the earth. Here! sit here in the light where I may look
at you. I have been trying to reconcile myself, Tomo,
to the thought that I should never look upon your face
again. I've been very ill since we parted—some throat
ailment—and there was a time when I despaired of ever


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 351
regaining my voice. It's coming back slowly, however,
though it's still a long way from what it was. God
only knows what I've been through—since webut
here I am a-rambling on like a town-gossip, without
giving you a chance to get a word in edgewise. Come,
tell me of yourself," and he seats himself opposite his
guest.
“First tell me if it was not Te Toke's notice in The
Napier Daily News which brought you here?”
“ Yes,” replies his host; “ that, and Dr. Carew's letter
informing me of the urgent need of my presence here to
look after poor James's interests. I am not sure but
I should have come here, sooner or later, even if I had
not been released from my oath by Te Toke's advertise-
ment. A pledge exacted under duress is hardly as
sacred, you know, as one's duty to a dead brother. I
saw the notice just as I was leaving for Japan. It was
by the merest accident that I noticed it. Oh! I tremble
when I think how near I came to being doomed to eternal
exile from all that I hold dear!”
“ What is that upon your face?” asks Tomo, leaning
forward the better to peer into the shadow in which his
companion sits. “Either my old eyes deceive me in
this uncertain light, or else your face is tattooed!”
“ Yes, Tomo,” replies Mr. Moreton, with a sad smile,
accompanied by a little reminiscent shudder. “ Your
artistic tribesmen have given me a beautiful moko."
“ Ah, I was afraid it would be so !” exclaims the old
man. “But how did it happen that they did not kill
you when we surprised them? Did they not have
time?"
“ They feared you had discovered their identity, and
would bring them to justice if they murdered me. They
had the hangi ready, and the stones—the stones red-
hot! The—the weapon was at my breast, and


352 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
they- " But he pauses, as if unable to proceed, and
Tomo, alarmed at the expression of acute pain which
distorts his countenance, springs from his seat to offer
him assistance.
The sufferer motions him back with a feeble gesture.
“My fearful experiences have all but unseated my-
my reason. For several days I was a raving maniac;
but-but I'm better now, only—only the fit threatens
to seize me again whenever my-my mind dwells upon
the horrors of the past. Something—something is
wrong with—with my head," and he presses both hands
against his temples, and again the agonised expression
returns.
“Forgive me for making you suffer!” exclaims Tomo,
beseechingly. “Never again will I refer to the past
in your presence,” and he stands irresolutely, not know-
ing whether or not he should summon aid.
“ You—you are not at fault, Tomo. -I must avoid
all—all thoughts of—of New Zealand—till I am strong
again. Would you please ask them at the office toto
get this prescription filled, and send it to me at once?"
and he passes the old man a little slip of paper.
“Can I not- " But Tomo does not finish his sen-
tence, for he thinks, with something akin to a pang, that
his own presence is one of the strongest reminders
which the stricken man can possibly have of his harrow-
ing experiences.
“I will see," Tomo continues, " that it is sent to you
right away. Good-bye! Is there nothing else I can
do? ”
“Nothing, thank you, Tomo. Good-bye!” and the
sufferer feebly extends his hand to the old man.
“ Imprimis,” said Maitland to Willard, “ Mr. Adrian
Canova Moreton is in New York. Tomo told me so


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 353
this morning and Eric Montrose this afternoon. He
has already called on Eric at the laboratory of The In-
ternational Wireless, over in Jersey.”
“ Well! well! what next? ” ejaculated the doctor. “He
must have seen that wormy personal-I mean that per-
sonal of The Worm, which you showed me, or else he
has had the courage to defy Te Toke.”
“ We shall know all about it in good time, for Tomo
has gone to see him," Maitland replied. “ So much
for that. Now, then, for number two! You will be
glad to know that that little matter of the finger-prints
on the murdered man's throat has been satisfactorily
cleared up!”
“ Aha! and I was right! They weren't made by Reiss,
after all! Come now, admit it.”
“ Oh, no! I was right and you were wrong,"
laughingly rejoined Maitland.
“How do you make that out?" asked the doctor.
“ Because the marks on the murdered man's neck were
made by eight fingers and two thumbs, all of which were
the personal property of one Elbert Reiss, an artist,"
George replied.
“ What! Do you mean that they really were Reiss's
fingers, after all?”
“ They really were. But they did not register
themselves upon Mr. Moreton's throat at just the time
we thought. You see, it was this way. Messrs. Reiss
and Moreton had had a quarrel that very morning, and
Reiss had choked Moreton almost into insensibility.
You know what strength the fellow has. Well, almost
every nail of his right hand, as well as that of the fore-
finger of his left hand, cut the skin of Moreton's throat,
while the callouses on his left hand abrased and dis-
coloured his victim's neck. Had the marks on the dead
man's throat been well lighted,—and had I had an op-


354 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
portunity to view them close at hand and at my leisure,
instead of being obliged to learn what I could in a half-
lighted, momentary glance from far too great a dis-
tance for ideal observation, I should, most likely, have
noticed that the marks were more than a few seconds
old; unless, indeed, my desire to impress their every
peculiarity of shape into my very soul had blinded me
to all other details. As it was, I think my oversight was
but natural.—Now here's another bit of news for you.
Mrs. Moreton and I have succeeded in bringing about
a reconciliation between Miss Sherwood and the artist.
And still they come! Now prepare for a surprise, Ned.
I have reason to believe that "The Eichberg' is
Madame Duval's daughter, despite the fact that I am,
as yet, utterly unable to tell how she came by the name
• Eichberg Now, Rachel has for several years been
earnestly searching for a rich son-in-law for her mother,
and apparently she has recently decided to accept our
friend Bertram, though it is common knowledge that she
was only toying with him prior to his employer's mur-
der. I leave you to conjecture why she has had this
sudden change of heart.”
“ You think it's Charlie's ill-gotten plunder that has
influenced her, I see,” the doctor remarked.
“I do, for a fact,” Maitland replied. “The Madame
used to live in Washington. In fact, she enjoyed the
pleasant distinction in her prime of being the belle of
Hooker Section Hooker Section, you know, Doc, is
a sort of nepenthe for Congressional nostalgia ; a kind
of Lethean wharf from which senators throw their
home-longings, as if they were the soul-galling burdens
of crime, into the false waters below.
66 There the Madame met one Carl Mayne, an attaché
of the German embassy. The two were attracted to
each other and had what I believe they call on the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 355
Continent a student's wedding,' with, in this case,
a slight variation to suit local conditions,—said vari-
ation being that no one but the contracting parties
had the slightest inkling of the affair. In about a year
Rachel was born, and then began the tribulation of our
virtuous sex. There now! Don't you think I'm
newsy?”
“Newsy? You're a whole sewing-circle let loose on a
bunch of scandals !” Willard replied.
“ And still there's more to follow!' » Maitland
continued. “I've had another inning over at 163 Lom-
brose Street. The room in which the murder was com-
mitted has been under seal ever since the tragedy,-ex-
cept upon a few occasions when it has been entered in
my presence. I found everything absolutely intact,
just as we left it.”
“ Did you learn anything new, George?” his com-
panion asked with manifest interest.
“ Did I learn anything new! Doc, if Charlie Bert'
knew what I've discovered, he'd be back in the asylum
before night!” exclaimed Maitland.
666 Charlie Bert'!” cried the doctor. “For heaven's
sake, man, you don't still think- "
66 —Think, I don't have to think, Doc! All I have to
do is to look! Why, bless you! Bertram and Gates,-
but there, we'll not dogmatise. Just glance a moment
at Mr. Bertram's case. You'll admit that he and Gates
had opportunity; or, since the impossible was achieved,
let us say they had all the opportunity that anyone had!
And I think you'll also agree, now that we know White
is out of it, that no one had a better motive. Bertram
had stolen thousands of dollars of his employer's money,
and immediate detection confronted him. He himself
acknowledges that Moreton had asked him for a state-
ment of account. Very well. Now add to all this that


356 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
osted.
his employer had just placed a fine “haul’ in his safe,
a fact of which he admits he was fully aware,-and
that it was a case of then or never with Charles, and
see what you make of it, Doc."
“ But the whole thing, George, shows the profoundest
premeditation," Willard suggested.
“ Granted: but what of it? " Maitland rejoined.
“ We don't know—at least I don't just how the
murder was accomplished,” continued the doctor,
“but we know enough to know that the method em-
ployed was unparalleled, fantastic, outré and bizarre in
the extreme."
“We'll play it was, anyway, for the sake of the argu-
ment,” the other replied.
“ Now, it isn't quite clear to me,” continued the doctor,
“ how a man can, at one and the same time, be clever
enough to plan a crime as intricate as a Steinitz chess
problem, and yet, with—as I assume_countless other
means at his disposal, foolish enough gratuitously to
select a dénouement which only a miracle could bring to
a successful termination.”
“ His insane neurosis bridges that gap to perfection,"
Maitland replied.
“ But you cannot hold that his act was the result of
insane frenzy, when you have given him both motive
and an accomplice,” said Willard.
“For heaven's sake, Ned, don't make me think you are
as ignorant as some of the judges in our criminal
courts !” exclaimed his companion. “You ought to
know, by this time, that the presence of motive does not
preclude the presence of insanity, and you ought also to
know that only a relatively small number of insane acts
are characterised by frenzy or fury. That idea is
an heirloom from the old theory of satanic obsession.
Now, in Charlie Bert's' insane tendencies we have the
und


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 357
prettiest conceivable explanation for much that could
not possibly be accounted for upon any other assump-
tion; for example: the marvellous skill, the almost un-
believable cunning, which he has, say, exhibited in some
instances, and the dare-devil, easily avoidable risk which
he has almost invited in others. The case is full of this
sort of thing, as you will see by and by. It's as if a
chess-master in the formulation of a scheme of dazzling
brilliancy invited a check-mate, every now and then,
from sheer dare-deviltry.—You know about what kind
of a game of chess I play?"
“Yes; I know it's quite good enough for me,” replied
Willard.
“Well, Charlie and Mr. Moreton played together a
good deal,” George continued, “ and Charlie got so he
could give his employer a good rub. I wanted to see
what I could learn from Charlie's game, so I challenged
him to a little bout yesterday. I was as a wax in his
hands, but I achieved my purpose. Thrice in the first
game I offered him an easy victory, and he passed it by
in favour of a brilliant coup full of possible pitfalls for
himself. Again and again did he offer me an entirely
gratuitous advantage, and, as I stupidly rejected one
after the other, he made them more and more glaringly
apparent, till at length I had to accept one of them in
order not to arouse suspicion. Well, sir! he took that
as my measure, and just smothered me with sweets,
hung, as he supposed, just beyond my intellectual finger-
tips. Oh! I received quite a successful defeat, I assure
you, at Charlie's hands," and Maitland glanced
anxiously at his watch.
“ Don't worry the time, George,” said Willard.
“ You've yet to tell me, you know, what you learned
over at 163.”
“ Well, that's not next in order, and I do have such an


358 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
orderly mind, Doc!” replied Maitland. “I have first
to tell you why I went there again. When the White
clue broke, and I got back here in New York, I went
over the whole list of possibilities from A to Z. There
were just three men whose entire time was not accounted
for, on that fatal afternoon, from the moment when the
lights went out to the very instant when we discovered
that the body had been removed from the room. These
men were Dr. Edward Willard, Charles Bertram and
Henry Gates.
“ Holding my suspicions of you, Doc, in abeyance,
there were only Bertram and Gates left, and I deter-
mined to see what I could learn of interest about these
gentlemen. Well, I picked up quite a bit about Charlie,
and you remember what you wrote me about him when
I was in New Zealand. Pretty soon I began to per-
ceive that all roads led to Charlie. So far, every fact
I have unearthed slips into place with the irrefutable
conviction of an indenture. I haven't time to begin to
describe to you half the evidential rays already dis-
covered which pass through Mr. Charles Bertram as a
focal point."
“ You must have done a hustle, George unless you
learned all these from Sheehan and Burke,” said the
doctor, with a sidelong glance at his companion.
• Doc, you're a wiz'! Sheehan and Burke, indeed!
You've a fine sense of humour. The last I heard of
Sheehan and Burke they were still trying to explain
how Moreton's safe was electrically melted open. They
had been obliged to abandon the theory that the wires
were tapped outside, because when they condescended
to follow my humble suggestion they found every inch
of insulation perfectly intact. So now they are trying
to figure out how twenty pounds of iron and steel could
have been melted out of a safe by the current which


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 359
lights the office-104 volts alternating, fused at the
meter with a 20-ampere fuse—which was not blown!
Sheehan and Burke! Roll the two into one mass and
our friend Osborne, of the Darrow case, is a veritable
Sherlock Holmes' in comparison with the com-
posite lump.—But this isn't telling you what I found
at 163."
“ No; everytime you get near that subject something
seems to explode inside your head, and you go shooting
off at a tangent,” said Willard.
“ Well, I'm a bit addle-pated to-day, anyway. Burn-
ing the candle at both ends doesn't agree with me,"
Maitland rejoined. “Well, when I finally settled on
Charlie Bert, the idea came to me like a flash to put
myself in his place, making all due allowance for the
personal equation, and to see how I, acting in his en-
vironment, would be likely to plan such a murder. In
this way I got some new ideas, and determined to test
some of them by a trip to 163."
“ Yes, that's the address, my addle-pated friend,"
laughed the doctor.
“Oh! by the way. I must state in advance that
Messrs. Bertram and Gates spent quite a number of
evenings over at 163, both while it was in process of
renovation and afterward; and that they had much to
do with the final finishing and furnishing of the place.
On several occasions they stayed there all night.—Where
was I?"
“ One hundred and sixty-three Lombrose Street, Jer-,
sey City, N. J., in the upper story,—with your own
upper story badly addled," said Willard.
* Exactly! Sheehan and Burke had lost interest in
the place, so at their suggestion I went alone. I locked
myself in the room where the murder was committed,
and turned on all the lights."


360 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Thank heaven for that!” exclaimed the doctor, with
a profound sigh of relief.
“For what?" asked his companion.
“ For the fact that you have gotten there at last, and
are under lock and key," answered the doctor.
“Oh! Indeed! Well, I began another complete
search of that place, and in the very midst of it, what
do you think happened?"
w Some fool unlocked the door and you went out!”
“No, sir; it was the lights that went out!”
“ What!”
“Every one of them! I was in pitch darkness, and I
was morally certain I felt something, or somebody,
close beside me! I don't think I'm a coward, but I've
imagination enough to think structures when I observe
functions. I'm ashamed to say that my flesh was like
sand-paper."
“ But what was it?".
“I don't know, Ned. When I had lighted a match
and looked around, I was sure it was all imagination.
When the match went out, I wasn't so sure. I lighted
another. There was nothing unusual to be seen
Clearly it was merely the suddenness of the thing,
coupled with associations of the mysterious tragedy
which had been enacted on the very spot where I stood-
alone, in the dark-and locked in. That match went
out, and in my hurry to get another I dropped all I
had on the floor. I stooped to grope for them, and, as
God is my judge, Doc! I brought my face right down
into the bloodless face of James Moreton's corpse!”
“ Impossible!”
“ As I live, I saw it! His upturned face was right
between my hands! His eyes were open and staring,
and his face partly decomposed! I even saw the marks
upon his throat! The stench was awful! A gentle,


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 361
lambent light, like that which plays in fickle, phos-
phorescent waves about a putrefying corpse, poured it-
self in repeated floods over his face and neck. I tried
to shriek, but no sound came. I could not move my eyes
from the decaying face so close to mine. I trembled
in every limb. Then I saw the mouth of the corpse
slowly open. I felt its breath, and smelled the awful
odour of the charnel-house! The thing tried to speak,
and I heard in a faint, far-away whisper, Charlie'!
• Charlie'! Then I felt a cold, clammy hand close over
each of mine upon the floor, and my strength began to
leave me. I knew that in a moment the hinges of ry
elbows would fold up, and that I should fall headlong
into the awful thing beneath me. Suddenly the glassy
eyes which held my eyes enmeshed swelled as if they
would burst, and the body beneath me began to rise!
Nearer and nearer it came till the unclean, horrent lips,
reeking with festering filth, touched my own! Then the
last vestige of strength deserted me I fell uncon-
scious—and buried my face in the awful, putrid face
of the dead!”


CHAPTER IV
The cut coil is hardest to unwind. Its superfluity of ends baffles
our choice. So, in the solution of a mystery, too many answers
“probal to thinking” serve only to confuse us. In the normal
skein, let us but once seize the outside end, and we have but to
keep unwinding; success is predetermined and inevitable. The
whole difficulty is in finding the end at the beginning. That done,
the rest is easy.
“ BEFORE I came fully to my senses," continued Mait-
land, “I began to feel aimlessly about on the floor, in
the half-conscious hope, I suppose, of touching some
familiar object which would assist me in determining
my whereabouts, and in realising what had happened to
me. As luck would have it, before I had sufficiently
recovered to remember the awful experience which had
so unmanned me, my hand fell upon the card of matches
I had dropped. Then the horror of it all came back to
me, and you may well believe I lost no time in striking
a light and looking thoroughly about me. There was
not a thing in the least bit suspicious to be seen! I
took good care not to drop the matches this time, and
I didn't allow my light to go out again either. I made
my way quickly to the door and left the room, locking
it, of course."
“ Then you didn't ascertain who or what extinguished
the electric lights? ” said Willard.
“I am coming to that,” his companion replied. “I
knew that the hall lamps, which are on the same metre,
had been used to light Eric and his assistants to and
from the laboratory, and so concluded that my copper
wire had probably been replaced by the usual fuse-wire.
Such being the case, I had no dou't the circuit was
362


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 363
again open at the metre Anyway, I assumed this, and
went out and procured a yard of fuse-wire and a lan-
tern, after which I returned, fully determined to ascer-
tain what blew that fuse. I had already evolved a
theory in my own mind, and was all impatience to test
it. You remember how, at the stockholders' meeting,
just before the lights went out, Bertram and Gates left
their positions near the door and came and stood one on
either side of James Moreton, as if to protect him from
the assault of the opposing faction? You needn't as-
sign any motive, but please don't forget the act, nor the
exact positions of the two men,-one on either side of
the desk, and James Moreton between them. There's
nothing in the whole case more important to remem-
ber!"
“Ah, I see! That's the way you account for the victim
being stabbed both in the breast and in the back at
practically the same time," said the doctor thought-
fully.
“Well, I remembered just where Bertram stood, and
I knew pretty nearly my own location when the lights
went out on this last occasion. As nearly as I could
figure it, our positions were sensibly coincident!” said
Maitland impressively.
“Even so, what of it? " rejoined Willard. “I don't
see what you're driving at, George.”
“Well, you will in a minute,” Maitland replied. “I
took the lantern and carefully examined the linoleum
all about the spot under consideration. There was
nothing to attract attention at the exact place where I
had thought Bertram stood, but a little nearer the centre
of the desk there was an ink-blot upon the linoleum about
the size of a dime. This would have been within easy
reach of Charlie's foot from where he stood. I put my.
toe edgewise upon the blot and pressed firmly. Instantly


364 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
the lights went out! I examined the mette. The fuse was
blown! I put in another and repeated the experiment.
Same result. Then I turned back the linoleum after
boring a little hole through the centre of the ink-blot,
to mark its location upon the floor beneath, and made
an examination of the flooring. The room, as I had
learned on my former examination, was floored with
tongued and grooved stock, and it took me quite a while
to get up the boards adjacent to the particular one in
which I was interested. I had good reason for not
wishing to mar this in the least. At last I succeeded
in getting it safely up, and if ever there were a slick
arrangement, that was it under that board. It was
simplicity itself! The two light wires, not more than
two inches apart, passed side by side under this board,
which board, by the way, ended a few inches beyond the
ink-spot. The tongue of this particular strip, as well
as that of its neighbour, was neatly whittled away; so
that the whole arrangement constituted a wooden spring
capable of slight depression, yet looking for all the
world the exact counterpart of its fellows. Now, about
three inches from the free end of this movable wooden
tongue, and upon the under side thereof, was a little
transverse rod of metal, so arranged that it crossed
the two electric wires at right angles, and was normally
just out of contact with them. Just below this bar the
insulation was neatly removed from the wires.”
“ And when the board was pressed down this metallic
bar touched the two wires, short-circuited the current
and blew the fuse, eh? " said the doctor.
“ Precisely! Isn't that slick? The board was so
arranged, relative to the desk, that under ordinary cir-
cumstances it would be extremely unlikely to be acci-
dentally stepped upon; and even so, it would not be
operated unless the foot were placed in a peculiar posi-
bar touchen the board moved from the w


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
365
tion. One of the chief beauties of the invention is the
fact that, even if the lights are accidentally cut off, the
secret is not revealed. Nothing whatever has been dis-
closed. You re-fuse the metres, and the simple little
mechanism is just as ready to operate again as it was
before.”
“ George, I congratulate you on your find," and the
doctor held out his hand.
“ But I haven't told you the cream of it yet,” said
the other. “ Listen: the tongues of those two boards
were whittled off with a jackknife.”
“ Why a knife instead of a chisel? ” Willard asked.
“ Don't you suppose I can tell the difference between
the work of a chisel and a knife? ” laughed Maitland.
“ However, to satisfy you, I will add that the blade of a
knife has a cutting edge down to within a quarter-inch,
say, of the handle, at which point the front edge
abruptly thickens, producing, if you please, a declivi-
tous shoulder on each side of the aforesaid cutting edge.
Now in whittling a piece of wood, one almost invariably
lets the blade occasionally slip upwardly on the work,
so as to gouge a bit with the undermost of these sharp
shoulders, thereby leaving evidence which is unmistak-
able, for no other tool makes a similar record on two
surfaces at right angles to each other.”
“I shall have to admit it. Go on," said the doctor. ***
“Well, upon the edges of each of these boards, where
they had been whittled, were three minute ribs or tiny
tongues extending longitudinally, the result of three
minute nicks in the knife-blade. Here is an impression
of them upon a piece of paper," and he passed a slip
of tissue to the doctor.
“ This, of course, merely shows their relative posi-
tions,” Willard replied, scrutinising the paper closely.
“ It shows a little more than that,” Maitland returned.
"Iaces at right a tool makes sence which is use sharp


366 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ You will note that they are of three different sizes.
Of course, the exact conformation of each is a matter
for micro-photography. I shall have an enlarged pic-
ture of them in a day or two. You see, I have to do
everything myself, for fear Sheehan and Burke may
• smell a mice' and try to get in ahead of me, and that
makes me a trifle slow.”
“ Slow!” ejaculated his companion. “ Your recent
progress seems to me little short of miraculous."
“ That's because the net is drawing in about a definite
suspect, or rather definite suspects,” George continued.
“ Now examine this,” and he opened a small jackknife
with a curiously wrought handle of bone, and passed
it to his friend. “ Notice the three nicks upon the
blade, the largest nearest the handle and the smallest
nearest the point of the blade, with the intermediate
size in the intermediate position!”
“ If this is a mere coincidence, George "
“_Coincidence !” interrupted Maitland. “Man alive!
Do you realise what the mathematical likelihood of that
would be? Do you know anything about the mathe-
matics of chance the calculus of probabilities ?-But,
there, lay the blade upon the paper, and see how per-
fectly the nicks in it correspond with that record.”
6 They fit it like an indenture!” exclaimed the doctor.
“ But tell me,” he continued excitedly, “ where did you
get this knife?”
“ I borrowed it to sharpen a pencil, and accidentally
returned it to my own pocket,” was the reply.
“ You absent-minded beggar! But come, out with it:
of whom did you borrow it, George?”
“ Of · Charlie Bert'!”
«« Charlie Bert'! I'm afraid it's all up with Charlie!”
“ You'd have little doubt of it, Ned, if I had time to tell
you all I've learned up to date."
ectly to the bear the come anyt!


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 367
“ But, George, this will force us to alter some of our
earlier theories, won't it?”
“ What, for example? ”
“ The theory that the pistol shot was a signal to notify
the assassins that the lights were to be cut off.”
“ Oh, yes! I gave that up the minute I found out how
the lights were put out, and I also developed, instanter,
the gravest doubts of the existence of any outside
accomplice.”
“ But the pistol shot—somebody must have fired it,
George! ”
“ Guess who it was, Ned.”
“ How should I know? I was in the room at the time,
not outdoors."
“ So was I, and so was I the other day, yet I fired a
shot just like that we heard from right where · Charlie
Bert · stood !”
“ For heaven's sake, George, what next!-So Charlie
fired the shot, as well as put out the lights?”
“ That's the way I figure it, Ned.”
“ But how did he do it? Unless you can explain
that "
“_Which I can do!” interrupted Maitland. “It's
just another pretty bit of mechanism. Loaded, self-
cocking revolver in top of ventilator pipe; a piece of
soft iron fastened to trigger for an armature; magnet
to work the same; five cells of dry battery concealed
in wall near by; wires running to contacts under floor;
loose board and ink-spot as before. Pretty, isn't it?
I call it clever. Most anyone else doing that trick
would have wired up to the desk, and then we should have
dropped on to the whole scheme the moment we moved
that article of furniture.”
“ But in each case there was the danger of someone else
accidentally operating the mechanism," said the doctor.


368 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
That was practically negligible, and if it had oc-
curred, who would have been the wiser?” replied his
companion. “In the first place, the loose boards were
positioned where they would not be unintentionally
stepped on once in a blue moon.' Then they were
so narrow that they could not be operated except by
pressing with the point of the toe or the edge of the
boot. One might walk over them both till doomsday
without springing either mechanism. It was by the
merest chance that I happened to operate one of them.
You know the mannerism I have of sticking the toe of
my right boot on the floor and vibrating my foot like
that, when thinking? That's how it happened; so, you
see, my gaucheries occasionally stand me in good
stead. After that I reasoned out the pistol mechanism,
and then verified my suspicions by search. You see
the pistol shot was intended to mislead us, by causing
us to conclude that there was an accomplice outside
who cut the light main,—which end it effected to the
queen's taste. Then, too, it served to add to the panic
which, a moment later, unfitted even the coolest of us
for rational observation. You see, that perfectly inno-
cent lineman that John White saw, though a mere
“happenstance,' was a godsend to our friend Bertram.
Things couldn't have transpired better for him.
“ Was there ever a murder committed more unusual
than this in many of its essential details? Forget, for a
moment, all that we now know which assists us in fas-
tening the crime upon Bertram and Gates, and try to
remember just where we stood immediately after More-
ton's murder. So strange a crime might be expected
to have an unmistakable motive,—yet we couldn't for
the life of us be sure what it was, simply because the
motive varied as the suspect varied. By properly se-
lecting our suspect, we could get almost any motive we


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 369
desired; and, conversely, by choosing the proper motive
we could get any suspect we desired. What could be
more unusual than those unmistakable finger-prints on
the victim's throat? and yet, see how they hindered,
rather than helped, the correct solution of this mystery.
Take, also, our gruesome find of Moreton's headless
body. Was it not a decidedly outré thing that the
body should have been buried there of all places? Was
it not still more singular that the head should be missing
under the peculiar circumstances?”
“ To just what do you refer by peculiar circum-
stances in this connection?” the doctor asked.
“I will explain," replied his companion. “Had the
body been found deprived of everything which might
lead to its identification, floating in the Hudson, say,
we should not have been troubled in the least to guess
why the head had been removed. We should have said
at once it was to render identification difficult and un-
certain, if not impossible. But when we found the vic-
tim's body interred within the very shadow of the build-
ing in which he met his death,-interred, remember, with
jewelry and other possessions which were identifiable
beyond a peradventure,—we were forced to conclude
that the removal of the head was not caused by any con-
siderations of identification. When we had progressed
thus far, we clearly saw that the decapitation was what
you would call a very outré act.”
“I get your meaning now," said the doctor.
66 The presence of a Maori at the meeting was de-
cidedly unusual, and, coupled with what we knew of
the gruesome commodity known as the “New Zealand
head,” was most suggestive. We had no choice but to
follow the clue to its end, yet you see how it misled us.
Now consider, for a moment, that hieroglyph,
the Sign of the Thirteen,—which we met at every turn.


370
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Taken in connection with Adrian's warning letters, did
it not seem to point at White with the directness of a
beam of light? Yet you see, there again we were de-
ceived. This very outré thing, which inevitably led us
to feel sure of White, now turns out to be one of the
many crushing evidences against Bertram. See how
capitally · Charlie Bert's' candidacy for the question-
able distinction of being considered Moreton's mur-
derer stands every test we can put upon it. He was
Moreton's clerk, and he and Gates handled all his cor-
respondence and filed all his letters. He had read these
warning letters of Adrian's and filed them away.
After the robbery he picked them out of the debris on
the floor and again filed them. He knew, to a nicety,
James Moreton's fears, and he built his structure of
crime upon the foundation of his employer's dread.
Bertram wrote all the threatening letters, and used the
Sign of the Thirteen upon each of them, and, for that
matter, everywhere else where it could be made to tell
upon his employer's fears. Wherever, in this case, we
do not find that hieroglyph to be the badge of Te Toke
membership, we may assume, with the utmost confi-
dence, that it is the signature of a young man with a
very remarkable mind, and the name of Charles Ber-
tram.”
“ But how can you be sure he wrote the threatening
letters, George?" asked the doctor. “ Aren't you a
little hasty in assuming that? It doesn't do to place too
much reliance upon the testimony of handwriting ex-
perts, you know; and in most of these letters, which
were typewritten, you haven't even that to assist
you.”
“ Ned, I wouldn't convict a dog on the testimony of
the best handwriting expert who ever befuddled a jury!
In this case, however, I have something a great deal


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 371
case suchhave more Bertict of eventuell
better, Doc. There's no appeal from the individuality
of a typewriter- "
66_Oh, I— "
“ Stop it! You know very well I mean a machine
not a girl. You needn't harbour any doubts about those
letters being written by Charlie Bert' upon the office
typewriter.”
“Or by Gates ?” ventured the doctor.
“ They are not in his 'typewriting,'” rejoined Mait-
land.
“ Do you mean that you can tell the difference be-
tween the work of two operators using the same ma-
chine? "
“ In this particular case such is undeniably the fact, as
I will demonstrate when I have more time. By the
way, Ned, in considering • Charlie Bert, I want
to call to your mind the fact that the conduct of every
being is determined by two factors. First: the individual
who acts, in his totality, which you may call the 'per-
sonal equation, if you choose; and, second: the environ-
ment in which he acts, in its totality. We have first
to consider “Charlie Bert's' personal equation. Do
we not find an intellectual power akin to genius, with
that concomitance of insanity which we so often ob-
serve in the case of real genius? This crime is, as it
were, but the replica of his game of chess. I ought not
to have to tell you, a physician, of the strange, almost
weird, inconsistencies to be found in an alienated mind,
even when apparently acting in full possession of its
faculties. Here, for example, will be gratuitously per-
formed some easily avoidable and bizarre act, which at
once lays the subject open to the very suspicion he most
wishes to avoid ; and there, in the next moment, will be
exhibited a masterly cleverness which will deceive the
very elect. Now Charlie Bert' has exhibited in this


372
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
crime just those inconsistencies for which a skilled
alienist would confidently have looked. He seems
to have taken a morbid pleasure in achieving the ap-
parently impossible, even when a simpler and safer
course might have been pursued.”
“ That is often characteristic of diseased minds," said
the doctor. “ Just why they should prefer to get from
one end of the house to the other by walking the ridge-
pole, when they could so much more safely and easily
traverse the hall, is a bit hard to see, but it is a fact,
nevertheless.”
“ Now we know," continued Maitland, “ that Charlie is
what is commonly called ' sporty'; that he craves excite-
ment as most men crave food; and that his mind is un-
ceasingly restive. His versatility would prove this last,
even if we had nothing else to do it. Then there is his
history. He is the ending figure of a long sum of de-
generates. His exceptional brilliancy is merely another
instance of Nature's love of the antithesis. We would
naturally expect him to be foolish, but our common
mother pushes him well on toward genius, just to jostle
our egotism, and to teach us that she is not to be
measured with our little ell of prophecy.—So much for
the personal equation. Now for the matter of environ-
ment. I will not tire you by going into this at length.
We have to consider his home life; his relations with
"The Eichberg’; his work; his pastimes; the kind of
companions with whom he associates; and last, but by
no means least, the general social sea in which he is
immersed. It is of this last that I wish to speak. The
rest you cannot fail already to appreciate.”
“I don't quite get your drift,” ventured the doctor.
“ You will in a minute, Ned,” his companion replied.
“ As the price of bread rises the walls of safes thicken,
all values being, of course, measured in terms of labour.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 373
The frequency of murder is inversely as the sacredness
of life, and the sacredness of life is directly as its desir-
ability. Given a community where life is a recognised
failure,—where the struggle for existence blasts the
flower of zest, -and you have a condition of affairs pre-
eminently calculated to foster murderous impulses. Add
to this the horror of epaulets and brass buttons, with its
concomitant glorification of murder mathematically ex-
pressed, and echoing daily through the resonant empti-
ness of a besotted press, and you still farther lower so-
ciety's respect for human life. Let, now, a miserable
spirit of commercialism attach a monetary value to
everything, from where the angel hangs his harp to
where the devil pokes the fire, and embodied damnation
tears wide open the black blossom of murder in every
heart that has its root and stalk!”
“ Strange, that I never thought of it in that way,"
said Willard, after a pause.
“I tell you, Ned,” resumed Maitland, with great ear-
nestness, “if present conditions in this country be con-
tinued, they will soon make life as little valued as it is
in the worst fever section of the African coast.”
There was a moment's pause, and then the doctor said
somewhat sadly:
“So it's all up with poor Charlie! It's a great pity,
for I can't help liking the fellow, George, despite his
failings.”
“ I'm sorry, Doc,” replied Maitland, “but the evidence
I already have against him, and I'm by no means done
yet, would be enough to convict the Angel Gabriel."
“You'll ask for his arrest at once, I suppose,” said
Willard..
“I don't want to, but I may have to," answered his
companion. “ You see, Sheehan and Burke will pounce
upon him if they learn a tithe of what I know, and while


374
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
I am confident they will never discover anything through
real ability, there's no knowing what they may stumble
upon. I'd feel pretty mean if they cut under me and
took that reward.”
“Why not arrest Charlie at once, then ? ” asked the
doctor.
“ Because that would make every one of his friends
shut up tighter than an oyster,” replied the other.
“ There is still considerable that I can learn in the
matter, and I dislike to show my hand till I have my
case complete in every particular. I'm afraid, though,
I shall have to do it, in this instance.”
“ You said in the case of White, if you remember, that
you could hardly attempt to prove that he did the deed,
until you were at least able to show how he might have
done it,” ventured the doctor.
“ Well, what of it?" asked Maitland.
“Why, that's just what you will be doing now, if
you ask for Charlie's arrest. You can't tell how
. Charlie Bert' got the corpse out of the room, can
you?”
Maitland looked at him for a moment with a quizzical
expression on his face and then said:
“I answer in the language of the old Quaker: 'First
thee tells a lie, and then thee asks a question.'"


CHAPTER V
Most of us have learned better than to expect a fair apprecia-
tion of our virtues, or a just censure of our faults. We have at
last come to realise that there is a sort of magnetic lag to our
environment, a kind of inertia to public opinion,—which ever
tends to make gratitude an ex post facto mockery of the dead.
Somehow or other the laurel wreath which should have adorned
our brother's brow, gets upon his grave instead. We have come
to expect all this to take it as a matter of course that our gener-
ous acts shall go without external reward, but when a tricksy
Fate “credits” our virtues on the debit side of her account, and
makes our noblest sacrifices rise up against and damn us, even
the rosiest optimist begins to doubt if the divine mechanism of
Truth and Right have not somehow slipped a cog.
ELBERT REIss sat at his desk with an open envelope be-
fore him, and an expression of supreme content upon his
countenance. He had undergone a marvellous trans-
formation during the last few days,—and all as the
result of a lesson in calisthenics. Think of it! There
was not a solitary “ blue devil ” left an hour after the
first treatment !He took up the envelope, which bore
the address: “Miss Marion Sherwood, Odeon Theatre,
Broadway, New York,” opened it, took out a little slip
of paper, and read again the lines he had written:
TO MARION.
If thoughts were things, my Love,
And wishes could create,
All things were fair, my Love,
In thy estate.
Rose-strewn thy path, my Love,
And gently placed thy feet;
Spared all the sour, my Love,
Given all the sweet.
375


376
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
O'er thy dear heart, my Love,
To turn all shafts of Fate,
Were ever bound, my Love,
Its throbbing mate.
Oh, it were sweet, my Love,
To stand 'twixt thee and Pain,
Bearing the loss, my Love,
Giving the gain.
Making thy life, my Love,
Eternal without age;
A book of Youth, my Love,
Sans final page!
Such is the heaven, my Love,
My adoration brings,
When wishes shall create, my Love,
And thoughts be things.
And thoughts are things, my Love,
And wishes can create;
And thy love loves, my Love,
With love insatiate.
And that is Heaven, my Love,
And Heaven will ever be,
And that's alway, my Love,
For you and me.
When he had finished reading, the artist folded the
paper, and, reinclosing it in the envelope, sealed and
stamped the same.
As Reiss was leaving the studio to post the letter he
met Maitland at the door.
“I was just going out to mail this letter,” he said,
gesturing carelessly with the article referred to, quite
unconscious that the address was uppermost. “ It can
wait, however,” he continued, ushering his visitor into
the studio.
Maitland's quick eye caught the address.
“ You are still taking my treatment, I see; and I am


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 377
pleased to believe a speedy cure is already assured," he
laughingly rejoined.
For a moment the artist made no reply. Then he came
and placed both hands upon Maitland's shoulders :
“ George,” he said slowly, “ I owe to you far more than
life. Nothing can ever repay my debt of gratitude,
nor aught efface my consciousness of it. You forced me
into heaven against my will, and but for your cleverness
I should have remained forever lost in the outer dark-
ness,-a mere moaning plaint in the great night of the
damned. I offer no audible thanks, for words cannot
unpack the soul; but, believe me, I know, I appreciate,
and I will remember!”
For a long time neither spoke again. At length Mait-
land said gently:
“Now, go and post the letter, that she may get it to-
night. I will keep shop till you return.”
George had not long to wait alone, for Eric passed
Reiss upon the stairs.
“ How goes The International Wireless?” asked Mait-
land. “Do I get some dividends pretty soon, eh?”
“ I'm afraid not yet awhile,” Eric replied. “Every-
thing is going on so well, however, that our new presi-
dent, Mr. Adrian Moreton, has a scheme on foot to in-
crease the capitalisation to twenty-five million dollars.
He says we are undercapitalised.”
“ And how do you like your new president, now that
you know more of him? ” George asked. “ Is he like his
brother?”
“ Oh, not in the least !” exclaimed Eric. “He seems
to be a perfect gentleman, and I never thought that
James Eldredge merited that title. It would be hard to
find two individuals more unlike than these two brothers
in manner, habits,-in fact in everything,-except, of
course, something of a family resemblance, and even
goes The Internaividends pretty sied. « Every:


378 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
that is not apparent to the casual observer. Adrian's
dark skin and tattooed face make him look like a
foreigner.”
“ And what is his plan for increasing the capitalisa-
tion of The International Wireless ? ” George asked.
“ He has organised another company with the capital
stock aforesaid, and proposes to buy out the present
company at its face value,” Eric replied.
“Do you mean that he proposes to pay five million dol-
lars spot cash? ” his companion asked in surprise.
“Well, not exactly,” said Eric. “ His scheme is this:
The present company holds, of course, all the patent
rights. Now he proposes to take over all our assets,
and to pay for the same in cash at stated intervals; the
stock of the new company being held in escrow, under
an agreement which provides that if any of these pay-
ments be not duly made, the stipulated blocks of stock
set against them shall be delivered to us as a forfeiture,
i. e., in lieu of the payment.”
“ Do you know, under this arrangement, how much
money would have to be paid the present company be-
fore the new company could secure a controlling interest
in its stock? " asked Maitland.
“Four million six hundred thousand dollars,” Eric
replied.
“You are willing, I suppose, to chance it on the other
four hundred thousand,” said George.
“ Well, I should say so!” rejoined his companion.
“ And is this new deal likely to go through? ” ques-
tioned Maitland.
“ Yes, indeed; the papers are all drawn,” said Eric,
“ and most of them are signed by this time, I suppose.
They can't boom matters too fast to "
But he did not finish his sentence, for at this moment
Mrs. Moreton entered the studio, and Eric, with mani-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 379
fest excitement and a very red face, hastened to greet
her, while Maitland looked at his watch and suddenly
discovered that he had stayed over long.
“Well, George, what have you discovered now?” asked
Dr. Willard the moment his friend entered his pres-
ence.
“ You know that cipher, Ned?”
66 Yes."
“No, you don't.”
6. You are a-senator'! if you'll pardon my quoting
Shakespeare.”
“Oh, Doc!“ senator'is worse than I deserve,” laughed
Maitland. “But come! I've solved the nightmare!”
6 What?"
“I have. But there are other matters to take up
first.”
. “Out with them, then! Can't you see that I'm on pins
and needles ? ” ejaculated Willard.
“ Under such conditions,—or rather with such con-
ditions under you,—you ought to feel sharp enough to
translate the thing alone,” laughed his companion.
“ However, I'll tell you,-in good time. First, I must
advise you of what I have discovered about that
wooden-grasshopper' message, as you call it, which
came to you from the spirit of Mr. James Eldredge
Moreton via Madame Duval. I went again to the
Madame for the express purpose of studying her plan-
chette. My suspicions were aroused by the firmness of
the letters composing the message. Now, I figured
that, in all probability, there would be more or less vi-
bration, looseness, or back-lash in the mechanism inter-
posed between the hand and the registering point of the
pencil. I couldn't detect any evidence of this, and it


380 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
While which lehere was to extentrees of the baan narron
difference irst written observed phe
aroused my suspicions. I noted further that in the
sixth word of the message, the word “forbid,' the
down strokes of the ‘f,' the 'o' and the 'r' were rela-
tively wide and coarse, while the similarly directed
strokes of the “b,' the 'i' and 'd' were much narrower
and finer. I immediately examined the back of the
paper to note the relative degrees of indentation, or, as
a printer would say, to examine the impression.' I
found that there was no indentation visible in either
case, which led me to infer that the writing was done
while the paper rested upon a hard surface, and that
the different width of the lines was not the result of
difference in pressure. As the strokes of that part of
the word first written were the coarsest, I could not, of
course, think that the observed phenomena resulted from
the wearing away of the pencil-point, for pencils, held
in one position, never wear sharper.”
“And what did you conclude?”
“ Simply this: that the first syllable of the word 'for-
bid' had been written with a blunt portion of the pencil-
lead, and that the pencil had then been turned so as to
bring a sharp corner of its lead into use. That mes-
sage was written with a pencil held in the hand. There
are numerous other evidences making toward the same
conclusion. For example: I detected a little dot over
the 'i' in the word 'it'! I put it under a sixth-of-an-
inch objective, and the whole thing was exposed."
“ What, what was exposed?” asked Willard.
“ First, the fact that it was a pencil-mark which our
clever fraud had unthinkingly and from sheer force of
habit placed there for a dot to the 'i'; and, second,
that the pencil had been twirled in the making of the
mark, as is so common a practice when slowly writing
with a moderately hard pencil on moderately smooth
paper. Then, too, the accuracy of its location pre-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 381
cluded the idea that it was put there by the wooden
grasshopper."
“ You spoke of the Madame's giving you a planchette
message. Did you learn anything from that?” the
doctor questioned.
“ Yes; it was corroborative of all I have just told you,”
Maitland replied. “I put this 'sure-enough' plan-
chette message under the microscope, and then I ex-
amined yours with the same care. There was this
important distinction: in your message the lines were
continuous, while in mine they were seen, under the glass,
to be discontinuous,—as if produced by a vibrating
stylus. Now, the pencil in the Madame's planchette is
held in a vertical position, which causes it, whenever it
catches slightly in the paper, to spring the mechanism
a trifle. When the pencil disengages itself from the
paper the mechanism recoils, causing it to make a little
jump-in short to 'chatter' like an improperly set
lathe-tool; and this chatter' is plainly visible in the
magnified record.”
The doctor was silently thoughtful for a moment, then
he said:
“But how did the Madame counterfeit the dead man's
handwriting?”
“ The same way you did, I fancy,—which is to say,
she probably traced it from some of Mr. Moreton's
letters and then pantographed it up to the requisite
size,” Maitland replied.
“But, George, where did she find these letters ? " Wil-
lard asked.
“Where did you get yours? ” George rejoined.
“Mine ?—Why, I made my tracing from letters I
borrowed from Dr. Carew," answered the doctor.
« Precisely," replied his companion; “and I'd wager
that's just where the Madame got hers."


382 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“For heaven's sake! what do you mean, George?”
ejaculated Willard. “Do you imagine a physician and
a gentleman like Dr. Carew has any dealings with a
person like the Madame,—or is even aware of her exist-
ence, for that matter?”
“Well, I like that!” exclaimed Maitland. “ Are you
not a physician, and am I not a gentleman, and have we
not had dealings with the Madame?” he continued,
with a laugh. “Is it so very different, eh, when
both the gentleman and the physician are under one
hat?"
“Well, I like that!” retorted Willard. “But 'come;
you know what I mean. Dr. Carew is a man of most
excellent repute,-a physician who stands upon the top-
most rung of the professional ladder. I know something
of the gentleman, and I can assure you, George, that he
is without a superstition, and that the Madame is the
very last woman in the world with whom he would ever
have any dealings.”
“ She came much nearer being the very first, Ned!”
was the rejoinder. “ But set your mind at rest. Dr.
Carew is one of the salt of the earth. There's quite
a bit to it, Doc, and we'd better take it in its
proper order. First, let us review a bit, and get
a correct point of departure. Charles Bertram has
murdered his employer, Mr. James Eldredge Moreton,
-never mind how, or who helped him. Let's waive all
details. The main motives actuating the assassin were,
first, a desire to conceal his heavy defalcations, and,
second, the hope to secure a large sum of money by the
robbery which immediately followed the murder. Since
the crime was long premeditated, as we now know beyond
a doubt, it is evident that the specific robbery committed
was not part of the original plan. That a large sum
of money was placed where Bertram could get it was


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 383
an eleventh-hour stroke of luck of which he was not
slow to take speedy advantage. Just how the safe was
opened, as well as just where Charlie learned the little
trick, I know to a nicety,—but of that later. Now,
The Eichberg' has our friend Bertram completely
enmeshed in her web. What he gets, she will get. The
Madame is Rachel Eichberg's mother. What the daugh-
ter gets the mother will also share. So, you see, we can
easily account for any interest Madame Duval may have
displayed in this matter. Of the Madame’s great love
of money we have abundant proof. That wonderful
supernatural power, you see, which enabled her to direct
us to James Moreton's grave, is now very easily ex-
plained. In her prime the Madame was the belle of
Hooker Section, Washington. Her successor to the
proud distinction of being the rarest bit of feminine
loveliness in the Section was Rachel Eichberg,-
"_The Madame's daughter!” interrupted the doctor
in amazement.
“No; not her daughter—wait a bit,” replied Mait-
land. " The daughter is Rachel No. 2, while she of
whom I am now speaking was Rachel No. 1, a young
woman about the age of the Madame's daughter, and,
so far as anyone knew, without parents, relatives or
dependencies of any sort. When the Madame began to
lose her youthful freshness she took a lodging-house in
a respectable portion of the city and became, at the
same time, a sort of spiritualistic doctress. She rented
her rooms profitably to gentlemen only,' and built up,
besides, a very lucrative if not strictly high-toned prac-
tice. On one fatal day Rachel Eichberg—that is to
say, Rachel No. 1-came to the Madame in great
trouble. She had plenty of money, and offered a price
which the Madame could not resist. As a result,
Madame Duval administered a course of treatment not


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 385
her absence would probably not be noticed, except by a
few fickle admirers. The great problem was what to
do with the body. Young Carew dared not let his part
in the affair be known, for his mother was in very feeble
health, and, quite apart from the penalty the law might
inflict upon him, he was morally certain the disclosure
would kill her. He besought his acquaintance, James
Moreton, to assist him, which that young gentleman did
with the same marked ability which characterised most
of his efforts."
“ What did he do, George?” questioned Willard.
“ As soon as they all recovered in a measure from the
horror of Rachel's death they held a whispered con-
sultation. The Madame was the most resourceful of
the lot. Her plan was so bold that it shocked everyone
else but Moreton, yet its very boldness was its strongest
recommendation. It was to placard the house with a
diphtheria-card, and then to announce, a little later,
that her own daughter, known then as Elsie Mayne, had
died of virulent diphtheria. In this way it was pro-
posed to bury the dead woman in regular form, the
Madame relying upon the malignant nature of the dis-
ease to prevent any undue curiosity. As soon as it was
dark Elsie Mayne left the house stealthily and came
here to New York, where, in compliance with her
mother's request, she at once assumed the name of the
dead woman,-Rachel Eichberg! The certificate of
death and the undertaker were the two factors which
caused the gravest concern, but Moreton and the
Madame were quite equal to the occasion. The good
lady had on her list of acquaintances one or two
physicians who would commit any offence, provided they
were paid in proportion to its gravity; and they, in their
turn, knew undertakers who did business on a similarly
high ethical plane,-and no questions asked."
un davetiphtherinoman in Preture of this it was


386
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ And Dr. Carew bought these men?” asked the doctor.
“Not exactly," replied his companion. “Henry
Carew had no money, but James Moreton came to his
friend's assistance. It cost him a pretty penny, but he
paid it, and the remains of Rachel Eichberg, enclosed
in a hermetically sealed casket marked · Elsie Mayne,'
were safely deposited in the northernmost corner of
Mount Olivet Cemetery, close to the B. & O. track. I
have seen the grave, and read the little inscription upon
the headstone which marks its location. Thus ended,
the real Rachel Eichberg.”
“ How did you learn all this, George? ” Ned asked.
“ That, in itself, is quite a story,—too long, in fact,
to tell now,” replied Maitland. “You will see, how-
ever, that Madame Duval can at any time get from
Dr. Carew almost any gift within his power to be-
stow. His mother still lives; and he has, in the mean-
time, earned a high reputation. He heads his pro-
fession in New York. There is no fear of his ever
uncovering the stain upon his past. What then? Sup-
pose, now, the Madame and Dr. Carew should quarrel?
and suppose she should suddenly turn State's evidence
and make a clean breast of it all? ”
“ George, it would be awful! It would kill both Carew
and his aged mother!” exclaimed Willard, rising and
pacing the floor.
“ All the more reason, then, that it should not occur,"
replied his companion; " and all the more reason that
Henry Forsythe Carew should be good—very, very
good—to Madame Ernestine Duval, a lady with ability,
a history, and a temper. Be sure of it, Doc, all that
you see, she sees, and more too; and, seeing it, she will
not fail to make it tell to her advantage.”
“ And you think, then ? "
“ I think,” replied Maitland, “ that Dr. Carew would


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 387
have loaned the Madame, for the mere asking, any of
the letters James Moreton ever wrote to him.”
“ And do you suppose that Dr. Carew is aware that
James Moreton met his death at Charlie Bert's'
hands?” asked Willard.
“ No; I'm not quite prepared to go that far, Doc,”
replied his companion. “ Carew is a fine fellow. The
assassin has fooled him, even as he fooled us."
“ You said you had solved the cryptogram, George.
What is it all about? ” asked Willard.
“ It is about the last nail I have driven in Charlie
Bert's' coffin," Maitland replied.


CHAPTER VI
Much of modern financiering is but a variation of the old three-
card monte game. This modification consists in the fact that
whereas, in the old game the court-card which you are asked
to locate is really there before you, in the new commercial monte
it has no tangible existence whatsoever, being merely a figment
of that vaporous ferment known as the financiering brain; where-
fore it happens that one plays in this modern substitute for the
old game, not merely against the dexterity of his opponent, but
also against a predetermined fate as inexorable, cold blooded,
and heartless as-as the dominant spirit of latter-day commer-
cialism.
EVENTS seemed to prove that the business capacity of
Mr. Adrian Canova Moreton was of no ordinary kind,
for scarcely was the escrow “ deal” closed between The
International Wireless Telephone Company, capitalised
at five million dollars, and The Consolidated Wireless
Telephone Company, capitalised at twenty-five million
dollars, before the affairs of this latter company as-
sumed such a roseate hue that Wall Street was green
with a not altogether complimentary envy.
When the agreements had been drawn someone had
asked that a clause be inserted permitting the share-
holders in the International to exchange their holdings
for stock in the Consolidated, at terms mutually to be
agreed upon; and providing that, in the event of such
trading, these stock transactions should be credited to
the account of the Consolidated, and made to apply to
the last payments due the International under the escrow
agreements. What could be more liberal on the part of
the Consolidated? They contracted to pay face-value
for the International's entire stock. If, now, some of
the shareholders of that company preferred stock of
the last paymewhat coule contra
388


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 389
for his ce to grinunication he beso
the Consolidated to cash, it was certainly liberal, on the
part of the larger company, to permit them to trade in
a way that prevented the most carping critic from
claiming that it was all a scheme to stave off the prom-
ised cash payments. Such an idea was clearly negatived
by the fact that these credits were applicable only to
the last payments under the escrow agreements.
It need scarcely be said that the men who managed the
Consolidated were the same men who directed the Inter-
national. Commercialism has its own system of ethics,
even as it has its own code of etiquette, and in each self
is God. Had a shareholder written to the secretary
of the Consolidated, asking for information regarding
his holdings, that functionary would have answered his
letter, provided he wished to suggest to him a stock
assessment for his own benefit or that of his friends,
but if he had no axe to grind, his correspondent might
whistle till he blew his communication out of the waste-
basket! Perchance the information he besought was
vital to his interests, but what of that? Could he, for-
sooth, expect good business men to consider any of his
needs, unless it profited them so to do? A bas the
thought! Let there be no sentiment in business! Cour-
tesy, like wheat, is a commodity to be paid for,—albeit
it was accidentally left off the London Index.
When the roseate prospects of the Consolidated got
abroad, there was a veritable stampede among the share-
holders of the International to exchange their stock for
that of the larger corporation, under the permissive
escrow clause. After some “ dickering" the Consol-
idated generously agreed to trade share for share.
· This exchange of stock did not altogether please Eric
Montrose. Not that he questioned the value of the
Consolidated's shares,—that seemed fully assured,—but
he felt that the escrow agreements offered him, and his


390
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
fellow-shareholders also, for that matter, a liberal cer-
tainty with which they ought to be content. He ex-
pressed his views along this line to a number of the
largest stockholders of the International, but all to no
purpose.
“ What does it matter how much our escrow contract
gives us, if we can see a way to get more?” was a
terse expression of the general consensus of opinion.
As easily could Eric have checked the wild stampede of
a herd of buffalo; and so, when, with the exception of
his own holdings, all but a hundred shares or so of the
International had been exchanged for an equal number
of shares of Consolidated, he “ joined the procession,"
as he put it, and exchanged his holdings. The gather-
ing in of the few shares still outstanding was an easy
matter.
Thus was accomplished a most unique bit of financier-
ing,—to wit: the purchase of a thing by the refunding
of a small portion of itself. It was, in effect, precisely
as if a boy, having no apples, had “ bought " the twenty-
five his companion possessed, under an agreement read-
ing: “If you'll let me have your twenty-five Pippins,
I'll give you back five of them in payment for the other
twenty.” Verily! the three-card monte of high finance
out-Houdins Houdin, and out-Hellers Heller!
When Eric had told Maitland of the increase of cap-
italisation, George had merely whistled. When, how-
ever, Maitland had related the news to his friend
Willard, he had closed his narration by quoting in
extenso the following touching poem, entitled :
"AQUA PURA.
“Little drops of water,
Little grains of dust,
Make the mighty stock shares
Of the mighty trust.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 891
“ Soon the combination
Will blow up and bust;
Then we'll get the water
And they'll get the dust.”
George Maitland had never had any extensive deal-
ings with financiers,-in fact he did not even know
that modern high finance is the mobile perpetuum of
commercialdom,—the only engine in the universe capa-
ble of getting something for nothing without losing
itself.
He knew something of the ordinary, vulgar thief, but
he had never deeply studied the procedure of the legal
highwayman. The difference between the two is purely
a difference of method, and is aptly illustrated by the
Irishman's chiding remark to his son, when visiting
him in jail, whither he had been sent for horse-thieving:
“ If ye wanted the horse, phwhy wud ye be afther
stalin' 'im loike a blackguard? Phwhy didn't ye buy
him, loike a gintleman, an' not pay fur 'im?"
All those business transactions in which, heretofore,
Maitland had actually participated had been of that
primitive, prosaic, and lack-lustre sort where one value
was exchanged for another; so that it is not to be
wondered at that he was not “up” in that gentle art
of high finance which might almost be called “ filching
a victim's consent.” Yet, despite this fact, his native
common sense told him at once that trouble was brew-
ing for someone.
He did not consider his knowledge of the details of the
somewhat complex agreements sufficient to warrant him
in voicing his more or less vague fears to Eric, so he
awaited results in silence, so far as the young inventor
was concerned.
“I have some news for you, Elbert,” said Eric Mont-


396
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
green to arranty was the butter!” saia
return, I called at "The Odeon' to see Miss Sherwood
for a moment, just as the final curtain was coming down.
I went in behind the scenes to wait while she was dress-
ing, and her leading man invited me into his dressing-
room. Immediately I smelled both the odours which had
so puzzled me. From what do you suppose they pro-
ceeded, Doc?”
“I give it up!”
“Grease-paint and cocoa-butter!” said Maitland.
“ That discovery was the missing link! Things now
began to arrange themselves in my mind with some de-
gree of order. The smudge had been made upon my
coat sleeve by flesh-coloured grease-paint. That was
precisely what I had smelled upon my big antagonist.
The odour I detected in the shanty was cocoa-butter!
The burly ruffian had used it to remove the paint.”
“But why should he have anything to do with grease-
paint?”
“Let me give you my rationale of the subject, as it
then developed itself in my mind,” replied Maitland.
“ Moreton told Bertram we were going over to the
laboratory. Bertram telephoned his men to be ready
to waylay us. So much for that. The hieroglyph
was painted upon the hand of the bigger ruffian for
the same reason that it was used elsewhere, viz. :—to lead
suspicion to New Zealand. Nothing could now show
• Charlie Bert’s ’hand more unmistakably. The grease-
paint on my coat sleeve came from my assailant's face,
and was of a flesh-colour. Had it been on his hands I
should have felt it when I seized them, and should
have been smeared with it in many other places. Now
what did this grease-paint upon the ruffian's face sig-
nify? ”
“ Possibly that he had tattoo-marks to conceal.”
6. That's a bit too specific, though the same thought


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 397
came to me,” Maitland continued. “Let's adopt the
last part of it, as I did at the time. He had something
to conceal, and so resorted to facial make-up. At the
word 'make-up’ my mind flew off at a theatrical tan-
gent. If his face were made up, why not his body as
well. The thought was an inspiration! Perhaps he
was a tall, lean, muscular fellow, with a pillow for a
paunch-(at the thought it almost seemed to me that I
could remember how suspiciously soft he felt when I
drove my knee into him!)—and other padding dis-
tributed with equal discretion."
“But you have said he could not run fast, George.
How did you account for that, upon the assumption that
he was thin and strong?”
“I was just about to consider that,” replied his com-
panion. “He ran heavily and vaulted lightly,' I
said to myself;' and he took a course which was the last
one any sane man would take, if he really wanted to es-
cape. Well, the more I thought of it, the more I felt
assured that the fugitive did not desire to outrun us,
and that he had some particular reason for leading us
to the little shanty. Can't you conceive that. Bertram
might have desired that this affair should mislead us
just as it has? That's a wonderful head of Charlie's,
whether it be judged by its chess-strategies or by its
masterly criminal problems; and I find it easy to believe
that it could foresee just what has happened. Think
how this burly assailant's marvellous disappearance
brought us to the very verge of n-dimensional space,-
to the Ultima Thule of scientific speculation! Seriously,
Doc, it almost drove me to 'Isis Unveiled?! Note, too,
the effect it produced upon Moreton hintself. It was
no inconsiderable factor, as I happen to know, in those
considerations which led James Eldredge to offer that
very substantial reward which I now expect, with


398 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Charlie's assistance, to secure for my own use and be-
hoof. Now let us take the next step. If the man were
more or less elaborately made up, it was clear, from
what followed, that the dénouement in the shanty had
been counted upon from the start; for, had the mere
concealment of identity been the actuating purpose of
it all, it could much better have been effected by far
less elaborate means. Once we assume that the little
entertainment in the shanty was prepared for our
especial benefit, much becomes clear that was previously
inexplicable.”
“Well, what, for example? ” asked Willard.
“Why the ruffian who could vault a high fence did not
run faster; why he did not kill Moreton; why he shut
off only part of my wind; why he betook himself to a
field of virgin snow, and why he entered a shanty in
plain sight of us all,—a shanty from which there was
no means of escape so far as we could see.”
“ But from which, nevertheless, he did escape," inter-
jected the doctor.
“ So, also, did we likewise.”
“ You are tautological, George."
“ You are mistaken, Ned. It was intended that we
should be deeply impressed by the danger we had so
narrowly escaped, and then utterly bewildered, when
we discovered that our assailant had vanished into thin
air,—by the preternatural powers of those leagued
against us. To accomplish this, the big fellow had to
be gotten rid of. He was not secreted—that was out
of the question. Neither did he leave the shanty-I
was sure of that, too. What then? Why, then, our
assailant and the man with whom we talked must be
one and the same individual.”
“ But, George—the beard! Your assailant was clean-
shaven.”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 399
“ Exactly,” replied Maitland. “Our fine gentleman
plastered his beard down with soap, then he put a nicely
tinted false chin over it and let its edges carefully on
to the face with flesh-coloured grease-paint, and the
trick was done. It would have passed muster in a far
better light than that in which we viewed it, and would
have withstood a deal closer scrutiny than it would re-
ceive from a man who was enjoying the novel sensations
attendant upon an attempt to live without air.—Once in
the shanty, and the door bolted, the false chin went into
the little stove, the paint was hastily removed from the
face, and the counterfeit tattoo from the hand, with
cocoa-butter; and the soap was washed from the beard.
The padded clothes were then removed and thrown
among the rags, or concealed in the bedding, and our
assailant was ready for the rise of the curtain. It was
a change any good actor would have effected in less
than three minutes, and he had a deal longer time than
that at his disposal. We escaped from the shanty by
the door. When our assailant got good and ready he
“escaped' in like manner. So you see my 'So also did
we likewise,' was not tautological, but did full credit
to my usual accuracy and elegance of diction-ahem!
So there you have the shanty episode.”
“ And that's the answer to n-dimensional problem No.
1, eh? ” said the doctor slowly and thoughtfully.
“ Say rather that's the explanation. The answer is—
• Charlie Bert.”
“ And the cipher message, George?”
“ Same answer— Charlie Bert. When Fate pro-
pounds a conundrum in this case, all you have to do is
to say, 'Charlie Bert, and you've guessed it. Now I
am prepared to prove, to the satisfaction of any court,
that Charlie Bert' wrote that cipher. The evidence,
though circumstantial, is overwhelming."


400 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
6 But how did you solve the crazy thing? That's
what I want to know !” ejaculated Dr. Willard.
“ Well, then, I shall have to ask you to forget that I
have solved it, while I repeat my whole rationale of
the subject,” said Maitland. “We have here a paper
on which are typewritten certain characters. A hiero-
glyph with which we have long been familiar seems
to add especial importance to the document. The ar-
rangement of characters is clearly not that of any
language on earth. We see at once, however, that they
are not a mere haphazard hodgepodge, because of cer-
tain frequently repeated collocations of letters which
never could have occurred as mere coincidences. There
is, therefore, at least some method in the arrangement.
Let us look at it carefully for a moment."
For a short time the two men perused the following
characters:
A$187fFI 5hubs5 VK9:4g7fRKT“6dF? 24EDxp,p, 9;cY QE5
p,$ry%eq P?9;BLMCW&9;qz3f ZQ5b be9;4g wEx MDwExqz5s
7,18V?“I BZ9;VKqz7f4g7kZBU$ wEx
6dj-vymt5hpi'DEwŨ?DUP,5SAT f7d6l8wED?VJEP,f3
4aF19;ez5s (11f34g(115s?VQGP&AB9hp,wED6d 18ez f72dj-ABs5
5hbuf3 p,3fKVEJF7FI 9;SY 815hez MDDEwzes5 9r 8lze wED
BA9;F?f781V?7kDEwh5819;?V ;9YS h51Fs5 a4f3ezf73f6dV?
a4EDwp,p, 9;WH QE5 p,ry$qe% MK: RXg4DExa4 wEDx
RKR(1-19;h5tms5F?7kcqT” beg4;9.B 'Eubs5 h59;(Il 9;HW
7ftmålez II(3f4g1l(f3VKAT8IAB9hp,DxEd6 f7;9 U$IFs5 v,J
K:m ta mK: BZ9;d6F?s56d ;9be 5hbus5 CM9h8lp, vwl8Vivy mK:
bHK85DExcq7kd6s5 ctd69;BL 7ftmj-ze ZB9;4gF?f34g 9h(11
h5F13f mt6j(119;7f5s?V7kcqT" ,pqe% WHh5 i5 QGP&DUKm:
“ Now this is either capable of solution or it is not,"
Maitland continued. “If we are not to abandon it at
once we must, of course, proceed upon the assumption
that it contains an intelligible message. We see at once
that the characters are in groups, as if each character
were a component part of a word, and that a space
separates each group. But here, for example, is a


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 401
group which has twenty-nine characters. Do you know
of any word having that number of letters ? "
“Oh, yes! The longest word in my remarkably rich
vocabulary has just that number of letters to a dot,”
said the doctor, after studying what he had hastily
written upon a bit of paper.
“ Doc, you're fibbing !" exclaimed Maitland. “ You
can't produce such a word!”
“Oh! can't I? What do you say to deanthropomor-
phizationability, eh, Mr. Doubting Thomas ? "
“Oho! what do I say? I say you've tied a cat's tail
to your rabbit!” was the laughing rejoinder. “The
last four syllables are entirely your own production.”
“ Thank heaven you recognise my ' ability' for once!”
exclaimed Willard. “But you're an inconsistent chap!
You challenge me to produce a word, and then try
to beg off because, forsooth, one-third of its syllables
are my own production '!”
“I cry you mercy, Ned !But come !—When we look
again we also discover that there is no word represented
by a single character. Now in a document of the
length which we assume this to have, would it not be re-
markable if neither an 'I' nor an 'a' occurred? I
think so; and this strengthens the assumption that more
than one character is required to represent a letter. Let
us see if we can determine how many. We would, of
course, be glad if we could say 'two,' but alas! In the
very first line we find a group ' QE5’; nor is this a soli-
tary exception, for we discover several other groups of
three, and when we begin to count the various colloca-
tions, we note that by no means all of them are composed
of an even number of characters, as would invariably
be the case were each letter represented by two charac-
ters."
“ Suppose we try three, then,” suggested the doctor.


402 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
66 That is precisely what I did; for I said: If three be
the number, then in all probability QE5' is an 'a' or
an 'I,' and to come that near to the translation of a
single word is a most important achievement," Mait-
land continued. “ Alas! for my hopes. The very first
group contained eight characters! As eight is not a
multiple of three, I was obliged to abandon the idea that
three was the correct number.”
“How about four?” asked Willard.
6 Three's too many. I saw almost immediately that
some groups had only two characters. What then? It
was clear that if number were a factor in the matter at
all, it was a shifting factor. I adopted this conclusion,
as a tentative hypothesis, and after careful counting
of the various groups, and consideration of several
passages chosen at random from various books-
passages containing the same number of words I be-
lieved this cipher to contain,—I decided to assume that,
as a rule, two characters represented a letter, but that
occasionally, for some unexplained reason, a redundant
character was used. I found that a trifle more than
two-thirds of the groups contained an even number of
characters; and this confirmed me in my assumption,
since two-thirds was too large a percentage to occur
as a mere coincidence. Now it would be but natural
that the writer of this should use every endeavour to in-
vent a cipher which should be untranslatable to the un-
initiated on the one hand, and yet have, on the other
hand, a key which could be remembered; for if the ex-
planation of the system had to be reduced to writing,
there would be the added danger that others might
become possessed of this key, and the correlative
danger that he for whom the cipher was intended
might lose it and thus be unable to translate the docu-
ment."


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 403
“ There would also be the objection,” the doctor inter-
jected, “ that this key would have to be used when
translating, which would mean that the riddle and its
answer would both be in the possession of one and the
same person perhaps for a very considerable period,
thus encountering additional danger of discovery."
“Exactly,” Maitland continued. “We may tenta-
tively assume, therefore, that the key is one which can
easily be remembered. And here is where the personal
equation comes in, and we are very materially assisted
by our knowledge that ' Charlie Bert' is at the bottom
of it all.”
“How so? " the doctor asked.
“ Why, if we did not know the cleverness of the inven-
tor of this thing,” Maitland replied, “we might fear
that we were accrediting to him a degree of ability which
he does not possess; but, knowing our man, we dismiss
that doubt at once. Now let us turn to the paper
again. We note that practically the whole keyboard of
the typewriter has been called into requisition. We
see also that this was written upon a Remington
machine."
“You mean, I suppose, that we know that to be the
typewriter operated by Charlie in the Broad Street
office," said the doctor.
“More than that, Ned. I can see by the thing myself
that it was printed upon a Remington. I know, of
course, beyond the slightest shadow of a doubt, from
my comparison of this document with the copy I made
of it at 30 Broad Street, for Sheehan and Burke, that it
was printed upon that identical machine, but almost
anyone could tell it was the work of a Remington, for
there is as much individuality to the different makes of
typewriters as there is to the men who make them.-
Observe, please, certain oft-repeated collocations of let-


404 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
ters; as, for example, ' WED' and 'xDE,' and note that
the order of the letters is frequently shifted, being now
• DwE' and ` EDx' and in other groups ‘DEwand
• DxE
“Now, when I first noticed this I regarded these
collocations as probably representing the same let-
ter, irrespective of the order in which they are
written. When I had gotten thus far I felt
assured that neither alphabetical nor keyboard se-
quence played any part in the solution. This brought
me face to face with a very important consideration,
viz., whether or not keyboard positions might have
anything to do with it. At this juncture a question
came into my mind which fairly made my heart stand
still for a moment. Might there not be a geometrical
factor in the problem? Might not the letter intended
be that produced by the key intersected by lines drawn
from the keys representing the characters given? I
could hardly control my impatience till I had reduced
a Remington keyboard to a chart, trying different ar-
rangements for upper and lower cases. It was no go!
Still I could not get my own consent to abandon the idea.
I sat thinking for a good half-hour without so much as
a glint of light. Then my eyes fell upon the chart be-
fore me. Its squares, with a single character in the
centre of each, at once suggested a checkerboard, and
instantly, without the slightest warning, these words of
mine, spoken to you long since, rang insistently through
my brain; 66 Charlie Bert” plays a great game of
chess, Doc! Again and again the thing resounded in
my mental resonator. I could not but think that the
solution of this puzzle, when found, would express itself
in terms of chess! Here is my transcript of the type-
writer keyboard as I arranged it in squares," Maitland
continued, passing the following diagram to his friend:


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 405
w | E|TY
| ASDFGHJKL
: “I went mentally over the moves of all the pieces till
I came to the knight, when my intellectual machinery
again began to run into the retrospect, and to hand
me back a remark with which I had parted weeks be-
fore. ““ Charlie Bert” exchanges bishops for knights !'
said my phonographic repeater. 6" Charlie Bert” ex-
changes bishops for knights!' Well, sir, the knight's
move did the trick! A word will explain it. Take the
first two characters of the cipher, ' A$' and locate them
on the chart. Now, suppose each of these characters to
be a knight, and then tell me what square they could
both reach with a single knight's move."
“ That marked “W.»
“ Good! put down a cap'W'for the first letter!” ex-


406 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
claimed Maitland. “Now proceed likewise with 18,
and what do you get?”.
“I get a small ‘i,"" Ned replied.
“Good again! Chalk that down and take 67f.!
" That translates St.'"
“ And FI '?"
“I make that 'h.'"
“Exactly, and you have the first word— With,'”
said George.
“ But some letters are represented by three characters,
you said. What's that for?”
“ That's merely to prevent possible error," Maitland
explained. “ Take the first triplet which occurs by it-
self,— QE5,—and we find its translation to be '#
Now, if the '5'had been left off, and only 'QE’used, it
might also have been ‘S.' Is it clear to you?”
“ Perfectly!” exclaimed the doctor., “George,
Charlie Bert' is a most unusual personage.”
“I should say he is, decidedly,” responded the other.
“ Note some of the "foxy' points in this thing. See
how easy it is to remember the key,—you simply couldn't
forget it! If you lose your chart you can make one
anywhere in the civilised world by just looking up one
of those typewriters. There is practically nothing to
remember. Again: if you try to solve the thing by the
known frequency of occurrence of the vowels of our
language, you get most beautifully left,' by reason of
the fact that the same letter may, in successive instances,
be indicated by entirely different characters, or the same
characters in a different arrangement. For example,
• 58'is'e' and so is . 3f,' or 'Q ' or 'T”) or any of
those written in reverse order. Then, too, Doc, the thing
is not what you would call immediately apparent.-
But, listen to this, and see how it drives yet another
nail in Bertram's coffin, and still further incriminates


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 407
the Madame, who conveyed its import to us long ago;
since it shows clearly that she knew where James More-
ton's body was buried. This is the translation:
6 * With the northern wall of No. 163 Lombrose Street
for a base line, construct a right-angled triangle whose
perpendicular is twice the length of its base, and is a
continuation of the western wall of No. 163. Draw a
hypotenuse from the top of this perpendicular to the
N. E. corner of the building. Measure from this
corner up the hypotenuse 13 feet and dig.'”
“ And that's the cipher?”
“ That is the cipher. Now thus said the Madame,"
continued Maitland, reading from a paper which he
had just taken from his pocket:
""My spirit feels the torment of my body, which is
rapidly being consumed. I cannot rest. They have
buried me in a white hell whose invisible flames have al-
ready licked the flesh from my bones. Take pity on my
wicked soul! I may not tell my murderers' names, be-
cause they meted out to me no more than I deserved.
You wonder where they hid my body. Follow my di-
rections and you shall find all that is left of it. Go to
163 Lombrose Street. Measure off upon the ground,
in the exact plane of the western wall of the building, one
hundred sixty feet in a northerly direction. Connect
the outermost end of this line with the northeastern
corner of the building. Starting at this corner lay off
thirteen feet along this connecting line, and mark the
spot, for there lies buried all that is left of my body!
If you have pity for the wicked, oh, make haste to dis-
inter it'!”
“There can be no doubt,” said Willard, “ of the con-
nection between those two documents; the location of the
grave is exactly the same in each.”
“No doubt whatever,” Maitland replied.
my dia
ne of the Measures left of


408 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
66 What would Sheehan and Burke say, think you?”
“Oh! they'd say “Charlie Bert' now, all right, for
they're hot on his trail. I had to ask for the arrest of
the poor fellow a great deal sooner than would other-
wise have been necessary, just on their account. They
were going to cut in under me, and, of course, with
that reward at stake, as well as the honour of the 'Hub'
which I represent, you know (though possibly you
don't), I had to head them off. Charlie was a frequent
visitor at the laboratory in Jersey, so all we had to do
was to watch for him there, thus saving all bother of
extradition.”
“ They will find a true bill, of course," said the doctor.
“ True bill!” ejaculated his companion. “Well, I
should say so! They're no good if they can't find a
whole roll of 'em!”


EPISODE SEVENTH
Run to Earth





CHAPTER I
The time-honoured patriotic Americanism, “ free and equal,” has
now assumed a specialised commercial significance, to wit: free
to plunder and equal to anything.
“ WELL, Eric, how goes the invention? ” asked George
Maitland a few weeks after the Consolidated acquired
the last share of the International's stock.
Montrose replied with a disgusted look upon his face,
“ I should say the proper answer is 'backwards.'”
“Why, I thought everything was booming, success
assured, and that you couldn't get instruments fast
enough to fill orders.”
“Ah, yes! it's a shameful story, and it comes as near
criminal imbecility as anything can well come,” re-
plied Eric, with a deep sigh. “I am more charitable
than many of my friends, who call it all a piece of arrant
knavery. Of course, the result is about the same either
way, for, stated in final terms, the same letters spell
both 'fool’ and ‘knave.'”
“ All this is new to me, Eric,” said Maitland. “ What
has happened to cause this remarkable change of senti-
ment?”
“ It's a sickening recital,” replied Eric. “ You know
the hurrah-boys' aspect of things which induced
the International's shareholders to climb over them-
selves' in their mad rush to exchange their holdings,
share for share, for stock of the Consolidated? Well,
just as soon as our stock was all exchanged, things
began to lose their roseate glow. Imagine my horror
when, as a director, I received a notice of a meeting
411


412 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
called to consider the question of changing our policy
from a leasing to a selling basis.”
“ You don't mean that they proposed to sell the tele-
phone instruments ? " ejaculated Maitland.
“ I do—just that "
6_But the Bell Company? Their experience "
6_Counted for nothing! As I'm a plundered inventor,
that meeting would have been comic had it not been
tragic! There we sat,—a board of presumably intelli-
gent men, met to consider the first great question which
had ever confronted us. One of our number, a Wall
Street banker and multi-millionaire, was late, and we
stayed proceedings till he should arrive. Well, sir, you
may not believe it, but I'll swear to its literal truth,
the very first thing this great financier said was: 'Gen-
tlemen, I haven't given this matter much thought, but
I've fully made up my mind which way I shall vote and
I shall not change it. If there's to be any discussion,
I'm ready to listen.'"
“ But, Eric, how could anyone with the least sense of
humour make such an absurd confession, even if it rep-
resented what he is pleased to term his thought'?"
asked Maitland.
6 You tell me!” was the laconic reply. “You know
how such directors' meetings usually go? They're mere
formal ratifications of what the powers that be' have
previously cut and dried. These fellows all breathe
through one pair of lungs. It's entirely a one-man
affair. Why, bless you! there wasn't one solitary word
of so-called argument in favour of this idiotic policy
but what would have done violence to the forensic
ability of a kindergarten, yet, when the question was
called, mine was the only dissenting voice."
“ And you think it is their intelligence rather than
their morals which is diseased?” said Maitland.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 413
“ Yes, I do, really,” Eric replied. “It's just the
result of bad advice, I think. You see, these men are
financiers, which I regard as much the same as saying
that they are commercial mountebanks. For the most
part they never produce anything, but are a kind of
hold-up men, plying their much-respected trade along
the byways leading from the real producer to the con-
sumer. Don't misunderstand me. What I mean to say
is that men may make millions gambling in wheat stocks
who would be in bankruptcy in three months if they
tried honestly to deal in the wheat itself.”
“ You spoke of one-man rule,” said Maitland. “ Who
is the one man,—Adrian Moreton ? "
“No! more's the pity!” exclaimed Eric. “By the
way, I didn't tell you why our Wall Street banker advo-
cated a selling basis. He said that when the phonograph
came out, and he was asked to rent one, he refused to
take it unless he could own it, and he thought that was
precisely the way the public would regard our instru-
ment.”
“ Did he say whether or not he would ride on a rail-
road if he couldn't own that? ” laughingly enquired
Maitland.
“No," replied Eric. “ But to answer your question:
The name of the one man who at the present moment
dominates the affairs of the Consolidated is Cohen,
Solomon Cohen,--and I think I shall suggest to Dun and
Bradstreet's agency that they make their ratings of
houses in terms of the time it would take Solomon
Cohen to bankrupt them, making the highest, say, three
months and the lowest three hours. You see, he
mistakes St. Vitus' Dance for genius. His method of
expediting things consists in rushing in upon you and
throwing 'a fit' in the most singular manner. Now
he's made a success as a manufacturer of cotton cloth,


414
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
and he thinks it is due to his own exceptional business
ability, when, in fact, it is chargeable more to his little-
ness than to his greatness. How does Solomon corral
the business ? By underselling his competitors. And
how does he undersell? By cheapening production.
And how does he cheapen production ? By grinding
his employees. That's his brand of 'greatness'! He
will rush into the mill, where his very name is vocalised
ague, and in less than a minute every poor devil is so
scared that he messes everything he touches. That's
the signal for this big-voiced Gargantuan inquisitor
to begin his catechism. Quick now! what was your
output last week?—What the week before?—What the
week before that? Too little, far too little! Unless you
can increase that five per cent. this week you may get
through Saturday night!' The poor wretch adopts
the pace that kills, and saves his job; and having once
made the record he is ever afterward held relentlessly
to it, and must never fall below it. When Cohen thinks
his victim's system has established an endurance, as
the doctors say, he comes around and scares him up
another peg. Solomon Cohen's success must all be
charged up against what has been fitly called the
social price.' It's reciprocal is degradation, crime, dis-
ease,-death! He tries the same thing in the Con-
solidated, and acts as if he expected to secure outside
success through internal strife. He antagonises every
prospective customer, and if he really does succeed in
selling an instrument, and it gets a little out of repair,
he makes a belligerent enemy of our patron by inform-
ing him, in very ill-chosen language, that we've washed
our hands clean of the thing, and that he may get out
of his difficulty as best he can. This sort of thing has
brought the Consolidated to a point where success seems
all but impossible. My fellow-directors see nothing!


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 415
They're in a deep, hypnotic sleep! Solomon Cohen has
but to raise that big voice of his, and at the first word
presto! every man Jack of them winks his judgment
shut with a hydrogen tightness in comparison with
which a clam keeps ever open house. They used to tell
me what a marvellous thing I had accomplished in get-
ting my invention into the hands of such wonderful
men. They seemed to be constantly waiting, as it were,
for me to issue some sort of thanksgiving proclama-
tion,-something to be observed by fasting and prayer
on my part. They are now singing another song, with
Solomon as soloist and the directorate as chorus. The
burden of this is that we haven't anything like the big
thing' they thought we had; and they are learning to
don a martyr-like expression intended to convey the
idea that they have been egregiously deceived. They
now propose to reduce the capital of the Consolidated
to one million dollars, and say they will do well if they
can earn dividends on that."
“Now that's what I call "slick'!” said Maitland.
“ That's worthy of Charlie Bert.' Let me see. I buy
stock in a five-million-dollar company, and then it sells
out to a twenty-five-million-dollar corporation on a basis
which gives me new stock of the same face-value as the
old, but representing only a fifth as large a part of the
whole company. And now they propose to reduce this
face-value of my stock to one twenty-fifth of its present
amount. Don't you call that slick, eh?”
“Let me offer you the consolation they offered me,”
said Eric, with a dubious shake of the head. “ They
begged to assure me that it was all merely a matter of
figures, and that, in point of fact, I would hold, after
the new deal, exactly the same proportion of the one-
million-dollar company that I formerly held of the
twenty-five-million-dollar corporation."
Don't you the console of the bus a matte fter


416
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ As I figure it my original purchase of two thousand
dollars face-value will read just a neat eighty dollars
under the new deal,” said Maitland thoughtfully. “ In-
explicable, in good sooth, are the ways of high
finance! But what says President Adrian Moreton to
all this?”
“ I doubt if he likes it. He has been quite blue of late,
and I think this had something to do with it, though
I have reason to believe he's in love,-head over heels
in love! I oughtn't to know a living thing about it,
but I've had the experience, and I know the symptoms."
“ Who is the lady?”
6 Miss Sherwood ! "
“ Miss Sherwood! What does Elbert say?"
“Would you mind asking him? ” was the laughing
reply.
" I think I'd prefer to get the information from you.
If our president is in the dumps, I suppose we may
infer that his suit has not prospered, eh?”
“ You may be sure of it," said the inventor decidedly,
6 though I can't say that it inevitably follows from his
depressed condition. If I were Mr. Adrian Moreton's
physician I should inform him that his liver divided its
time between periodical strikes and feverish activity
to make up for the loss occasioned thereby; with the
result that he is alternately as blue as a whetstone and
as gay as a lark: and I should prescribe copious
draughts of thoroughwort, and—and-charge all the
traffic would bear, I suppose. I don't wonder the wag
answered the question, Is life worth living?' by
saying, “ It all depends upon the liver.”
“That's so!” laughed Maitland. “A lazy liver is
the white man's real burden, Eric! But do you really
think they will decrease the capitalisation of the Con-
solidated to one-twenty-fifth of its present sum?”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 417
“ Not a doubt of it, and we may just as well consider
it already done,” Eric replied. “When Solomon
Cohen consents to take all his fellow-directors into his
confidence, it means that his plans are secure.—I tell
you what it is, George, the law which permits such out-
rages is the best farce ever written !”
An hour later George Maitland entered his friend
Willard's apartment.
“ When does • Charlie Bert's' trial begin? ” asked
Doctor Willard.
“ I expect it to be reached some time next week. The
attorney-general has practically saddled the whole
affair upon me, though of course he retains nominal
conduct of the case, and I've had to get admitted to
the New Jersey bar in addition to all the rest. To be
sure, I shall have District Attorney Barton, for an
assistant, but he's not very well up in the case, and
the attorney-general knows even less about it, and isn't
doing any work on it. All his energies are being used
to convict Pfeifer down there in Paterson. I appre-
ciate his distinguished consideration, I assure you, but,
in the meantime, I'm wondering how I'm going to do
it all.”
“Oh, you'll come out all right!” replied his friend
encouragingly.—“By the way, I've a bit of news. Mrs.
Moreton is to become Mrs. Eric Montrose in something
like two weeks.”
“I thought Eric bore the Consolidated's "fizzle’re-
markably well. This accounts for it.”
“I saw Mrs. Moreton this morning,” said Willard,
" and she looked an angel. I may be stupid, but I can't
see how it was ever possible for you to suspect that
woman."
“I didn't tell you all I knew that tended to cast sus-


418 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
picion upon her,” Maitland rejoined. “ The will made
just before the murder cut her off with little or nothing,
whereas the one it was intended to replace was all ‘My
dearest Marie.' I learned from · Charlie Bert' that her
husband had told her of this last will just before his
death.—Well, that second will disappeared in the rob-
bery. Who was there who could possibly benefit by this
disappearance? The answer is,-Mrs. Moreton. When
later she herself voluntarily disclosed the existence of
this second will and refused to be a beneficiary under
either document, I was as much surprised as anyone
could have been.—Then you must not forget the bad
blood' between Moreton and his wife; the impending
divorce suit, and that intense aversion, exhibited by
each toward the other, which we so plainly observed at
the little banquet given in honour of Miss Sherwood.
There were, moreover, several private and apparently
very important interviews between Reiss and Mrs.
Moreton, one of which, she herself told me, could not
wait. There were also decidedly suspicious relations
between Mrs. Moreton and one Nathaniel Clarke, who
was, you will remember, present at the stockholders'
meeting as Martha Warren's proxy. I learned that this
legal functionary and Elbert Reiss had had two men
closeted with them for a considerable time just prior to
the murder. My informant,-a discharged office-boy,-
had overheard the names “ James Moreton,” Mrs. More-
ton,'—and, he thought, that of ‘Preece,"mentioned
several times during the interview. When the two men
left he had distinctly heard his employer say to
• Preece, which was as near as he came to the correct
name, Reiss : If they don't cook James Eldredge's
goose to a fine rich brown, I'm no prophet!',
“ This seemed to me more than ordinarily significant
when taken in connection with the blood-stains


420
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Doc, simply appals me. You'd expect the fellow to have
made a mistake once in a while, but in every instance he
seems to have weighed all the possibilities, and to have
made his calculations with the nicety of a chemical
balance! Oh, he's a wonder, is · Charlie Bert'! and I
have the keenest curiosity to see how he will behave in
court when he discovers that at last he is run to earth.”
“I suppose you have every detail of the case well in
hand by this time," said the doctor. “ Now what I want
to know is, how did “Charlie Bert' remove James
Moreton's dead body from that room?"
“ Now really, Doc, that's a little ahead of the story,
and if I should tell you this now, you'd be ringing for
the final curtain while you ought to be doing, say, the
second act. Sardou may write his plays backward, Ned,
but it doesn't do to play them that way.—Now let me
tell you something which may set you thinking in a way
to help me to information which I very much need, and
which • Charlie Bert' professes himself unable to supply.
Just after James Moreton was murdered, his office in
the Johnston Building was robbed. The evidence of
wanton destruction was visible upon every hand. In
• Charlie Bert's' room, however, was a little wall-closet
which apparently had not been unlocked. I asked
Charlie for the key, and he said that it had been Mr.
Moreton's private closet and that he had never been
given a key to it. I asked him to loan me his ring of
keys in order that I might see if, perchance, some of
them would open it. He coloured deeply, and with ap-
parent reluctance consented. The very first key I
tried opened it “as slick as a whistle'! and it was not
a common lock either.”
“ And what did you find ? ” Ned asked.
“Oh, a lot of most interesting things, which I did not
glance into at the time, owing to the officers' desire to
Toreton's privat
I asked him
perchance, son ap-
I either.”
191 Ned asked, which I dio


422 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
not one chance de evidential mondiay buried deeocat
• Charlie Bert,' and heaven knows! that's saying a great
deal; for the poor fellow is already buried deep be-
neath a veritable evidential mountain. Now there is
not one chance in a thousand that these twelve initial
characters require, for their translation, any other key
than that which we have already applied to our crypto-
gram. You and I know perfectly well that all this is
• Charlie Bert's' handiwork,—and it's mighty handy
work, too but we have to consider how those facts
which have determined our convictions will affect a jury.
Now, while I expect to be able to convince the jury that
all our typewritten exhibits were, beyond any reasonable
doubt, printed upon the identical machine now in the
Broad Street office, I do not anticipate exactly an easy
conquest when I attempt to show that they are un-
doubtedly in Charlie Bert's' typewriting. You see,
Ned, the evidence which proves this latter point is such
as appeals more strongly to experts than to such lay-
men as will be reasonably certain to comprise the jury.
If, however, I can connect this recipe with our crypto-
gram, beyond all cavil, do you not see how, in view of
the fact that the document in your hand was not only
written upon the typewriter to which Bertram had
access, but was found in the office where he worked,
securely locked in a closet to which he had the key,
do you not see, I repeat, how easily I shall be able to
show the jury what you and I already know,—that in
• Charlie Bert' we have the king-pin of this whole intri-
cate and beautiful criminal mechanism,-beautiful, even
as a cancer is beautiful?”
“I understand you now," said the doctor. “What
you want is to be able to prove that those twelve char-
acters were intended to represent the figures • 5883.'”
“Precisely,” replied his companion; “ and in order
to do so, we must learn what relation these figures bear


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 423
to the rest of the recipe. Personally, I'm afraid it's
the number of some druggist's prescription,-some fel-
low, perhaps, who has been taught just how to compound
the stuff. If so, we've a job on our hands to find the
druggist without advertising.”
“But why not advertise? ” asked the doctor.
“ Because in playing chess with a fellow like · Charlie
Bert' every pawn counts,” George replied. “I'm not
giving that astute young man any unnecessary infor-
mation. By the way, Doc, speaking of Charlie,-are
you aware that he uses carpenters' tools with the same
skill with which he wields the scalpel? You should see
some of his work over at 163 Lombrose Street. It
would astonish you."
“ But when did he get time to do all this?” asked the
doctor.
“While his employer was chasing after Miss Marion
Sherwood as she went from city to city with her com-
pany, and I was trying in vain day after day to find him
at his office. Not that he made his presence known to
the lady-far from it! Reiss was painting her portrait
for The Odeon,' and was accordingly with her a good
deal of the time, so that James Eldredge, jealous as a
Barbary pigeon, had to be content with witnessing her
performances from some obscure corner of the theatre.
Now, while this lovesick gentleman ran up and down the
land like a lobster,'—which is to say, with a lady
enthroned deep in his innermost being, — Charlie Bert
struck work at the office early every afternoon, and
he didn't always go home nights. This gave him an
abundance of time, and he made good use of it, as you
will see.”
“ But how did he fix it so as to get the corpse out of
the room while we all stood in the hall? That's what I
want to know," protested the doctor.


424 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ You are well aware of Charlie's great strength, I be-
lieve? ” said Maitland.
“ I am,” replied Willard.
“ What would you think,” George asked, “ if I should
tell you that Charlie took the corpse in his arms, and
walked right out of the room and down the stairs
with it?”
“ Think!” exclaimed the doctor. " I should think you
were stark, staring mad!”
“ It's all right, Doc; I only wanted to know," was the
laughing rejoinder,


426
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Six chalet juror challenges pted anda cari tide.
ward to his forehead, and an occasional unequal dilation
of the pupils of his eyes. His knitted brow betokens
a determined concentration which he who runs may
read.
The general panel is now called by the clerk, during
which there is an earnest consultation between the
counsel on both sides and the judges. As the clerk
finishes Judge Clapp says: “Is the State ready to
move the indictment?”
“Yes, sir,” answers Mr. Barton.
“ Is the defence ready? "
“ Yes, sir," replies Mr. Storrow.
Six challenges are allowed on each side. James Cogan
is the first juror called. Charles Bertram whispers to
Mr. Storrow, who challenges Cogan.
Isaac Huber is then accepted and becomes foreman.
Two other jurors,—Alvin Jones and Carl Hermann,
are challenged by the defence and are set aside.
Osric Lundell asks to be excused and his request is
granted. The State challenges only one man, Alton H.
Gates, who is set aside. In ten minutes the jury is com-
plete. In five minutes more it is polled and the trial
begins.
District Attorney Barton opens the case. He is a tall,,
spare man, with a student's stoop to his shoulders; a
shock of hair, not altogether unlike that of Rufus
Choate, yet more so than its owner could wish; sallow,
parchment-like skin; a little, closely trimmed, fiercely
black moustache, every treacherous hair of which is
scandalously confidential just where it enters the skin;
high cheek-bones ; deeply set grey eyes; wide, thin-
lipped mouth; great breadth of shoulders; and big, flat,
trowel-like feet.
His voice, as he begins his address, is loud and full, but
lacks that subtle charm of modulation and inflection


428 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
captained respectively by John White and James El-
dredge Moreton.
“ Calling upon his followers to help him clear the room,
and singling Moreton out for himself, John White
rushes upon his enemy. Before he can pass the desk
which separates him from Moreton a pistol shot is heard
close at hand, and instantly the room is plunged in dark-
ness. For a brief moment Mr. Moreton is heard to cry
out against his assailant; then there is a heavy fall! The
lady-the victim's wife!calls upon someone to light a
match. Several of the men, brought back to their senses
by this woman's presence of mind, hastily comply, and
one lights a candle which is upon the desk. There are
two physicians present. One of them seizes the candle
and holds it over a prostrate form upon the floor. It is
James Eldredge Moreton lying with his face upturned
and with a stiletto driven almost to its hilt straight
through his heart! The weapon is still in the wound!
Gentlemen, I need not go into any minute details. Every-
thing will be made clear to you by the evidence. Almost
immediately everyone leaves the room; the door is locked
on the outside; and all, with the exception of the three
gentlemen who go in pursuit of the supposed accomplice,
await the arrival of the medical examiner and the offi-
cers of the law, in the hall, directly in front of the only
entrance to the room in which the corpse lies! When, a
few minutes later, the medical examiner arrives and
enters the room, it is discovered that the corpse has been
removed!”
This announcement by the District Attorney creates
a profound sensation, for this is the first time this aston-
ishing fact has been given to the public. Heretofore,
through the strenuous efforts of George Maitland, this
particular phase of the case has been kept a profound
secret. The newspaper accounts of the “ gruesome find”


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 429
in the rear of 163 Lombrose Street had, of course, given
the public to understand that the murdered man's body
had in some mysterious way vanished, but they had left
their readers guessing both as to when and how this
astonishing disappearance had been effected, and who
could possibly have guessed that the theft occurred at
the very moment when so many people stood guard
before the only door of the room where the victim's body
lay!
“ Yes, Gentlemen of the Jury,” Mr. Barton continues ;
« in spite of the indubitable fact that the room in which
the murder was committed is without windows or outlets
of any kind, save the one door before which not less than
a dozen persons stand from the very moment they leave
the corpse until the arrival of the medical examiner,
that gentleman no sooner enters the room than he dis-
covers that the murdered man's body has been removed
in some utterly inexplicable manner!
“ This, Gentlemen of the Jury, is a hasty glance at but
a mere fragment, albeit a central fragment, of a case
which is destined to live in the annals of criminology as
the most daring, inexplicable, outré and successful
crime ever committed. We believe the evidence will fully
convince you, as it has us, that the prisoner we have
brought to the bar of justice, exhibited, in the concep-
tion of this crime, an intellectual ability and steadfast-
ness of purpose little short of marvellous, and, we be-
lieve, quite impossible for anyone not at the time in a
condition of full mental and moral responsibility. I
say, at the time,' for the reason that the prosecution
is quite aware that there have been periods during which
the prisoner suffered some degree of mental alienation.
We shall show you, by proof which cannot be gainsaid,
that the crime was planned many, many months before
its commission, and that these elaborate preparations
ness of pus crime, an intestice, exhibited.risoner we


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 431
able doubt of the prisoner's having committed or bene-
fited by either of these crimes, the defence will have suc-
ceeded in discrediting, to a great degree, that which the
prosecution now regards as a sufficiency of motive for
this whole criminal chain—a chain, Gentlemen, whose
first links are the series of defalcations begun many
months ago, and whose ending loop is the robbery of
James Moreton's office in the Johnston Building, upon
the very night of his murder.”
During these remarks Charles Bertram sits as pale
and rigid as marble, with his unfathomable eyes fastened
upon the District Attorney. He does not seem either to
wink or breathe. Twice, during his discourse, Mr. Bar-
ton gets entangled with this rapier-like gaze in a way
that temporarily disconcerts him, and causes him to
lose the thread of his argument, after which experiences
he takes good care to keep his eyes off the prisoner.
“We shall further show you, Gentlemen of the Jury,"
continues the District Attorney, “what disposition was
made of the murdered man's body; how, with a clever-
ness which speaks volumes for the intellectual acumen
of the guilty party, the seemingly impossible was
achieved. We shall explain to you how the corpse was
removed without detection from the room in which the
murder was committed, and how it was buried in quick-
lime just back of the building. Much that we shall put
before you will of necessity be circumstantial, yet it is
primary evidence,—the very best of which the nature of
the case admits,—and we beg you to remember, in this
connection, the words of Blackstone,— But next to pos-
itive proof, circumstantial evidence, or the doctrine of
presumptions, must take place.'”
As the District Attorney concludes his opening re-


432 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
the day impus delic suffici
marks the general panel is discharged until Thursday
morning, and the Court announces that no other cause
would be taken up previous to that time. The rest of
the day is consumed in the purely formal establishment
of the corpus delicti. When the prosecution has adduced
what it considers sufficient evidence to prove, beyond a
peradventure, what everybody admitted before,—viz.,
that a murder has been committed, the Court ad-
journs for the day.
Upon the opening of the Court the next morning every
available place was taken, and at least a hundred per-
sons who desired to be present at the trial were obliged
to forego that pleasure from lack of standing room.
Mr. George Maitland began the examination of the
State's witnesses.
Mr. Henry Gates was the first to take the stand.
The part of his testimony essential to this narrative
was as follows:
Q. What is your occupation?
A. I am a bookkeeper.
Q. Are you at present employed?
A. No, sir.
Q. Where were you last employed?
A. At 30 Broad Street, in the offices of Mr. James
Moreton.
Q. As bookkeeper?
A. Yes, sir; assistant bookkeeper.
Q. Who was the head bookkeeper?
A. Mr. Charles Bertram.
Q. How long have you known Mr. Bertram?
A. Ever since I went to work for Mr. Moreton, nearly
three years ago.
Q. Has there ever been any friction between you and
Mr. Bertram?


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 488
A. No, sir; not to my knowledge. We have always been
good friends.
Q. When working for Mr. Moreton, were your duties
confined entirely to bookkeeping?
A. No, sir. Mr. Bertram and I divided the general
duties of the office, though he usually attended to most
of the correspondence.
Q. Were you enabled to keep in touch with the busi-
ness of the office?
A. Yes, sir; it was my duty to index the letter-books,
and I had free access to the letter-files. Some of the
letters I printed myself. Nearly all of them I copied.
Q. Then Mr. Moreton did not use the detached-sheet-
carbon-copy filing system now so common?
A. No, sir; we used the letterpress.
Q. Were your relations with your employer pleasant?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. What do you know about Mr. Bertram's relations
with Mr. Moreton ?
A. They were always pleasant, so far as I observed.
Q. Are you aware that there are grave discrepancies
in Mr. Bertram's accounts ?
A. Yes, sir; that is I have been so informed.
Q. But did you not, as assistant bookkeeper, have
access to these same accounts?
A. Yes,—yes, sir; I did, but-
Q. But what?
A. But-1-I'm not an expert accountant.
Q. Did you detect anything out of the way in these
accounts ?
A. No, sir; nothing whatever.
Q. Do you remember the Haswell transaction?
A. Yes, sir, perfectly.
Q. What was the amount due Mrs. Haswell from Mr.
Moreton ?


434 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
the occurrediscussed the mould do about beton
A. $409,500.
Q. Was that sum ever paid?
A. No, sir; it was lost in the robbery.
Q. Tell me what leads you to infer this.
A. About two weeks before Mr. Moreton's death he
received a letter from Mrs. Haswell's attorney demand-
ing payment. This was just after he had plunged heav-
ily in the stock-market and “ made ” some big losses. I
remember the occurrence perfectly, because at the time
Mr. Bertram and I discussed the matter, and he asked
me what I thought Mr. Moreton would do about it.
Q. Do you know how much available cash Mr. Moreton
had at that time?
A. He had less than $20,000 on deposit when the letter
came.
Q. How, then, did he lose some four hundred odd thou-
sand dollars in the robbery?
A. This was two weeks before the robbery, and within
the next three days he got the market where he wanted
it, and made a clean half a million. All but about a
hundred thousand dollars of this remained on deposit,
up to the day of the murder, when $409,500 was with-
drawn by Mr. Moreton and placed in the safe, leaving
a little less than $10,000 still on deposit.
Q. Did you see this money placed in the safe?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. How did Mr. Moreton bring the money from the
banks?
A. In a leather bag.
Q. Did he put this in the safe?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Then you did not see the contents of the bag?
A. Yes, sir. Mr. Moreton started to take the money
out of the bag and pack it in the drawers of the safe,
but there were three packets more than they would hold,


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 435
so he changed his mind and put it all back into the bag,
and crowded the whole business into one of the big, ver-
tical compartments intended for books.
Q. Could you form any estimate of how much money
there was in all ?
A. I counted sixteen big packages and one small one.
The big packets were labelled $25,000 each. I did not
notice what was on the small bundle.
Q. And all this went into the safe?
A. Yes, sir; all of it.
Q. Was there anyone else in the office at the time?
A. Yes, sir. Mr. Bertram was there.
Q. Did he see the money?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did you have the combination of the safe?
A. No, sir; I never opened it.
Q. Who opened it mornings?
A. Mr. Bertram usually did.
Q. And when he didn't?
A. Mr. Moreton opened it.
Q. What happened after the money was put into the
safe and the safe locked?
A. We all three left for the stockholders' meeting.
Q. Where were you on the night of February 22d of
last year?
A. I—I don't-I don't think I can remember.
Q. Try again! There's no hurry. Washington's
birthday, you know.
The face of the witness turned ashen, then crimson, and
then ashen again. The spectators noticed his confusion
and awaited his answer breathlessly. After a long pause
Mr. Gates replied:
A. I think Mr. Bertram and I were entertaining some
ladies until quite late that night.
Q. Where?


436 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
A. At-at-here in Jersey City.
Q. Yes, I know; but whereabouts in Jersey City?
Again the witness paused and seemed to cast about for
some evasive reply. Finding nothing to his liking, he
answered doggedly:
A. At 163 Lombrose Street.
Q. In the room where James Moreton was murdered?
A. In the room on the-yes, sir; the room in which Mr.
Moreton was killed.
This announcement created quite a little sensation, the
effect being caused more by the witness's manner than
by his admission.
Q. Who was there, upon that occasion, besides yourself
and Mr. Bertram?
A. There were two ladies, sir.
Q. Will you give me their names, please?
A. I would—I would much prefer to spare them this
publicity.
Q. The matter is of sufficient importance to warrant
me in insisting. What were their names ?
Again a pallor as of death overspread the witness's
face.
A. Miss Eichberg and Madame Duval.
At the mention of these names there was an excited
rustle all over the court room.
Q. What were these ladies doing there?
A. They were just there at our invitation.
Q. Exactly; but why did you invite them?
A. I-we-that is-Mr. Bertram-it was a holiday,
and Mr. Bertram suggested a game of cards and a little
supper by way of celebration.
Q. Did Mr. Moreton know of this?
A. Oh, no, sir! Mr. Moreton was out of town. We
never went there in this way when he was in New York.
Q. Why was that?
ever went in sir! Mor know of in


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 437
A. We were afraid-afraid he might drop in on us.
Q. Wasn't that rather a singular fear?
A. No, sir; we regarded it as very natural.
Q. Indeed! You must have had some special reason,
then, for this view. Suppose you explain.
A. Mr. Moreton was having domestic troubles at this
time, and I do not think he went home one night a week
on the average. Sometimes he'd go to the theatre, and
then take a room at a hotel; sometimes he'd go over to
163 and spend the night; and sometimes he'd go else-
where, but very rarely did he go home. While 163 was
being fitted up for The International Wireless, he often
spent the night there, laying out the next day's work
for the carpenters. We never felt sure, therefore, of
not being interrupted, unless he were out of town.
Q. Was not Mr. Moreton out of town a good deal
about this time?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Do you know where he went?
A. I know some of the places.
Q. Please name them.
A. Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, Cincinnati,
Cleveland, Buffalo, Albany and, I think, Rochester. He
went also to other places, but either I did not know them
at the time or have since forgotten them.
In the main, Mr. Gates seemed a very willing witness,
and created a decidedly favourable impression.
Q. Were you and Mr. Bertram at 163 Lombrose Street
on the nights of March 2d, 3d, 5th, 10th, 13th, 15th
and 16th, and of April 3d, 7th and 11th?
A. A-n-no—that is—I should say—I could not-I
don't remember!
Q. We will drop the dates. Were you not at that
address during March and April something like ten
nights?


440 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
" I thought so, too, and waited expecting momently to be called.
That was the last I saw of mother alive. A few minutes later I
heard a commotion in the hall and went to the door. The maid
was hurrying toward me wringing her hands, and behind her was
a tall, elderly gentleman bearing mother in his arms. He laid
her gently upon the bed, and seemed deeply moved. He said he
had known mother as a child, and that he had wished to see if she
would recognise him. She had forgotten him, he said, and so, to
refresh her memory, he had shown her a little design tattooed into
his left forearm. She had no sooner seen it, he said, than she
sprang to her feet, and he saw at once that she was very ill. He
rushed forward to assist her, but she went from one convulsion
into another, and before he could summon aid, fell, a limp mass,
in his arms.
"I was stunned, stupefied, bereft of reason! I knew not what
to do or say. Vaguely I beard, as if from a great distance, the
old gentleman's words: 'If I can be of any service, pray don't
hesitate to call upon me. Everybody about here knows me. Ask
for Captain Paolo Orsini.
“I made no reply, and he left the room. I could not speak; I
could not think; I could not even feel! I was dumb, dazed,
num
“The excitement,—the nervous shock caused by so suddenly
meeting with an old friend,-precipitated the fatal attack.
“Let us try to rejoice that mother is free of her heavy
burden, even though it has fallen upon our shoulders.
“Good-bye, and God bless and guard you !
“Your loving sister,
“LUCIA."


442 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
A. N-no, sir. He is also quite a student of-of
anatomy, and is, I believe, considered to possess rather
a remarkable surgical ability.
Q. By “surgical ability" do you mean mere technical
knowledge, or manipulative dexterity?
A. Both. He has frequently assisted in operations
in major surgery.
Q. Have you ever seen any exhibitions of manual dex-
terity on his part, along other than surgical lines?
A. Oh, yes, sir!
Q. Please name them.
A. He can handle a pack of cards like a professional
magician,-in fact, he is the only person I have ever
seen who can make the single-handed pass in full view,
without detection. I have seen him place the joker
upon the top of a euchre pack and deal out four hands,
avoiding this top card every time, and finally dealing
it to himself as his last card, without the others having
the slightest suspicion that anything unfair was occur-
ring. He has also a considerable degree of skill in wood-
carving, and has done some excellent cabinet work. He
is very handy with all kinds of tools. .
Q. Did he ever do any dissecting on his own account?
A. I-I don't-he may-yes, sir.
Q. What did he dissect?
A. Various animals.
Q. Did he ever, in this way, dissect the human animal?
The witness turned very pale at this question, and
looked helplessly toward the prisoner. He remained
dumb, as if unable to speak, and Maitland repeated the
question.
Q. Did he ever, in this way, dissect the human animal?
Every eye in the court room fastened itself upon the
prisoner. By a species of divination which the specta-
tors themselves could not have explained, each felt that


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 443
this question was charged with great significance. The
witness's voice faltered as he made answer.
A. 1-1-think he did-y-yes, sir.
Q. Do you not know that he did?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did he not do this on more than one occasion?
A. Y-yes, sir.
Q. Where did he get these cadavers ?
Had the question been a thunderbolt it could scarcely
have produced a more terrifying effect upon the wit-
ness. His face assumed the colour of mildewed lead, his
knees knocked together, and he seized the railing of
the witness-stand for support. The room was as still
as the grave. It was fully half a minute before Mr.
Gates spoke, and then it was not to Maitland. He
looked helplessly at the judges and asked:
“ Can I be compelled to give evidence which may be
used against me?”
This question created a visible sensation.
“ You are not obliged to testify to anything which will
incriminate yourself,” said the Court.
Maitland promptly abandoned this part of the inquiry.
Q. In what branches of athletics does Mr. Bertram
chiefly excel?
A. In those requiring great strength.
Q. Did you ever see him place the palms of his hands
beneath the elbows of a man, raise him from the floor,
and carry him across the room in this fashion, with-
out hurry, or any other external evidence of great
effort?
A. Yes, sir. That was one of his commonest“ stunts”
at the gymnasium.
Q. Can you form any idea of how heavy a man he
could handle in this way?
A. I saw one man weighed after he had carried him


444 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
thirty feet. He tipped the scales at one hundred
ninety-three pounds seven ounces.
Q. When you went to 163 Lombrose Street, you have
said Mr. Bertram unlocked both the outside and inside
doors.
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did he also have keys to the desk and wardrobe?
A. He had a key to the desk which he used on one
occasion. I could not say about the wardrobe, as it was
always unlocked when I was there. ..
Q. In the office formerly occupied by yourself and
Mr. Bertram in the suite at 30 Broad Street there
is, if I remember, a little fire-proof wall-closet some-
thing less than three feet square. Do you remember
this?
A. I remember there is such a closet. I have seen Mr.
Moreton and Mr. Bertram go to it once or twice.
Q. Then Mr. Bertram had a key to it?
A. Yes, sir-that is—I don't know, I suppose so.
Q. Do you know what was kept in that closet ?
A. No, sir; I was not supposed to go there.
Q. You operate the typewriter, I believe.
A. A little; yes, sir.
Q. What machines have you used?
A. The Caligraph and the Remington. I am not a
Caligraph operator, however, as I have never learned its
keyboard; nor have I had practice enough on the Rem-
ington to become at all rapid, for Mr. Bertram always
did the great bulk of the office typewriting.
Q. Where did you first use the Caligraph?
A. In Mr. Moreton's office.
Q. Is the Caligraph regarded at present as a standard
machine?
A. I do not think so.
Q. How do you account for it, then, that Mr. Moreton,


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 445
se "caliger touche ore he come of
it to Me such a natuator: Some to New York
with his well-known desire to have the best of everything,
kept this machine in his office ?
A. The Caligraph has an arrangement of keyboard
and a staccato touch peculiar to itself. Mr. Moreton
had learned these before he came to New York, and was
quite a rapid operator. Some of his correspondence
was of such a nature that he would not even entrust
it to Mr. Bertram, preferring to write it himself. He
kept the Caligraph, therefore, rather than learn a new
keyboard.
Q. But he finally changed to a Remington, did he not?
A. Yes, sir; when the Caligraph got so badly out of
repair that he was afraid its work would disgrace him.
2. Did Mr. Bertram operate the Caligraph?
A. Yes, sir. He became very proficient upon it.
Q. When did Mr. Moreton change to the Remington?
A. Somewhere about a year before his death, if I re-
member.
Q. Did Mr. Bertram become proficient upon this
machine also ?
A. Yes, sir. He wrote very rapidly, frequently taking
slow dictation direct upon the machine.
Q. Did he do all of the office typewriting?
A. No, sir; not all. I did a very little and Mr. More-
ton did some himself. I never learned to write fast on
either machine, but Mr. Moreton and Mr. Bertram were
quite expert on both of them.
Q. Immediately after the murder of Mr. Moreton, Dr.
Edward Willard and Charles Bertram left 163 Lom-
brose Street. Did you accompany them?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. I have been informed that almost as soon as you
had all left the premises, you and Mr. Bertram detached
yourselves from Dr. Willard. Is this true?
A. It is true that we separated.
Edwet Street. Did you
not almost as soon detached


446
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Q. I have here a typewritten letter addressed to Mr.
James Moreton and signed “ Nemesis.” It is dated
the twentieth of December,—almost exactly six months
before his murder. Can you tell me if Mr. Moreton was
in the city at that time?
The witness thought for a moment and then replied:
A. No, sir; I do not think he was. If I remember, he
was feeling blue at that time, and took a run down to
the “ American Monte Carlo," as he called it, where he
dropped some thousands of dollars.
Q. Do you mean that he took a trip down to Palm
Beach?
A. Yes, sir. He got back just in time to spoil our
New-Year's celebration. That's how I remember it so
distinctly.
Q. You had planned another little affair over in 163,
I take it.
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did Mr. Moreton make any secret of the fact that
he had been down to Palm Beach?
A. No, sir; I think not,—that is, at least, not in the
office. He said to Mr. Bertram in my presence, the very
day of his return: “ You think, Bertram, that we fel-
lows on the Exchange are a pretty tough gang of
pirates, but if you'll just take a little trip down on the
Florida east coast, and see how the people down there
fleece the innocent tourist, you'll feel like going right
up to Tiffany's and ordering diamond halos, inscribed
with 'Truth' and 'Honesty,' for our whole outfit”!
Q. You are positive, then, that Mr. Moreton was
away on December 20th?
A. Yes, sir.
'Q. Did Mr. Moreton tell you anything about losing
any valuables shortly before his murder?
A. Y-yes, sir.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 447
"
Q. Relate what you know about this.
A. The day before the murder he sent me over to the
laboratory. He was robbed while I was away. He said
that Mr. Bertram had stepped out, saying he was going
to the vault, and, that while he was gone, feeling a bit
fagged out, he had stretched himself upon the sofa to
rest. He was sure it was about three o'clock. He told
me that he had had a vague sensation of suffocation,
accompanied by a peculiar odour which might or might
not have been chloroform; he could not say. When he
came to himself he discovered that he had been relieved
of several valuable articles. His left hand, he said, was
bleeding, and he told me that the robber had dipped his
finger in the blood and hastily drawn with it the mys-
terious figure mentioned in his brother's letters, upon
his,-Mr. Moreton's,—forehead.
Q. Do you know what articles Mr. Moreton lost upon
this occasion?
A. No, sir. I asked him, but he declined to tell me.
He said that he had been a fool to allow himself literally
to be “ caught napping"; and that he did not wish
me to say anything about it outside of the office. A
man in his position could not, he said, afford to publish
himself as so “easy a mark,” and he would much pre-
fer taking his medicine in silence to becoming a laugh-
ing stock for his enemies.
Q. Did Mr. Moreton wear, at the stockholders' meet-
ing, the gold watch which he commonly carried?
A. No, sir. He wore a silver one.
Q. Please look at the peculiar figure upon this letter,
and tell me if you have ever seen it before.
(Maitland handed the witness the letter dated Decem-
-ber 20th, and pointed with his finger to the Sign of the
Thirteen near the signature. Gates glanced casually
at it and replied without hesitation:)


448
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
A. Oh, yes, sir! many times. It is the sign for which
Mr. Adrian Moreton cautioned his brother to be on the
lookout. We saw it in one of his letters.
Q. Did Mr. Bertram see it?
A. Yes, sir. It was he who first called my attention
to it.
Q. Will you please remove your coat and bare your
left forearm?
(The prisoner did as requested and exhibited, to the
astonishment of the jury, as well as to that of the
spectators,—the Sign of the Thirteen neatly tattooed
into his flesh. Maitland continued his question.)
Why did you have that figure placed there?
A. Mr. Bertram “ stumped” me to do it. He said
he'd have it put on his arm if I would on mine.
Q. And did he?
A. Yes, sir.
This strange bit of testimony created a profound im-
pression on the spectators. Why, they asked themselves,
should a murderer so astute as Charles Bertram first
indelibly brand himself with a hieroglyph, and then,
upon every possible occasion, connect the same figure
with the atrocious crime he was planning? Why,
indeed?
This finished Maitland's examination of Henry Gates,
and, to the surprise of everyone, the defence declined to
cross-examine him.
Officers Sheehan and Burke were called, in the order
named, and told their stories. The defence cross-exam-
ined neither of them.
The State then called Milton Small, who testified, as
an expert accountant, that he had examined Mr. Ber-
tram's books and found deficits aggregating nearly
sixty thousand dollars.
The defence made no objection to the introduction of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 449
this testimony, neither did they cross-examine the wit-
ness, and it looked to the spectators as if the prosecution
were having rather an easy time of it.
Mrs. Hortense Marie Moreton was then placed upon
the stand. She testified to much with which the reader
already is familiar. She said her husband had at first
been very devoted to her. He had made his will entirely
in her favour, and had showered upon her all manner of
gifts, among them a valuable locket containing a lock
of his hair. This the witness exhibited, and the prose-
cution offered it in evidence. Mrs. Moreton further
testified that her husband had instituted divorce pro-
ceedings against her, and had, shortly before his death,
shown her a new will in which she played but a small
part. She was then excused. The defence again re-
frained from cross-examination.
Just as the audience was beginning to lose a measure
of its excitement, George Maitland said:
“ Mr. Adrian Canova Moreton will please take the
stand.”
In an instant everyone was on the qui vive. This was
the murdered man's brother! He was in New Zealand
when the crime was committed! What could the prose-
cution expect to prove by him? What was the matter
with his face? Were those tattoo marks? How did he
come by them? These and scores of similar remarks
at once began to circulate among the spectators in
whispers which had to be gavelled into silence.
Mr. Moreton's testimony was far more dramatic than
the audience had expected. He not only identified the
letters warning James Moreton of the plot to kill him,
and giving the Sign of the Thirteen, as those he had
written his brother from New Zealand, but also briefly
related how he had been kidnapped, tattooed, and sworn
to leave New Zealand and to avoid America. He testified
e a measure


450 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
to having received Dr. Carew's letter, urging him to
come to New York to take charge of his brother James's
affairs, and stated that his planning to do so was what
precipitated the attack upon him by members of Te
Toke. When finally released he dared not, he said, break
his oath, until he saw the personal addressed to himself
in The Napier Daily News. He produced a copy of this,
and it was offered in evidence. The personal was sur-
rounded by a heavy border of black, which made it so
conspicuous that anyone glancing at the paper could
not fail to see it. The witness testified to the tragic
death of his father, the awful effect it had produced
upon his mother, and the possible prenatal influence it
had exerted upon his brother James. When asked if he
believed that the lozenge-shaped birthmark upon his
brother's left breast, the mark which Maitland had
at first taken for a dagger-wound, on that fateful June
13th,—was caused by the awful shock his mother had
received, he replied, without the slightest hesitation:
“ I have not a doubt of it !” He stated that he had
received in all one hundred and six thousand dollars as
beneficiary under five insurance policies held by his
brother James. He was then asked if his brother had
broken 'either of his arms during his boyhood. He
replied in the negative, and then testified that his
brother's legs were straight, well-proportioned and of
equal length, gratuitously stating that he had been con-
sidered the finest example of physical beauty in his
gymnasium at Washington. He admitted, with evident
shame, that many of James's actions were morally very
questionable; told of the unconquerable determination
which had given him the soubriquet “Dog”; testified
to his physical insensibility to pain, and consequent
cruelty; his demoniacal passion for excitement; and his
proneness to sharply contrasting moods. When asked
gymne, that many of the unconquet “ De


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 451
if he and James had been companionable, he replied
sadly in the negative, after which he was excused. The
defence did not cross-examine.
The remainder of the day was consumed by the State
in the examination of witnesses who testified to facts
with which the reader already is familiar and which,
therefore, need not be repeated here.
That night Maitland called on his friend Willard, with
whom he desired to discuss certain points of the Bertram
trial.
“ Well, Doc, what do you think of it?” was his first
question.
“I hardly know, George,” Willard replied. “The
attitude of the defence is a puzzler to me. They don't
seem to care a rap what you introduce, or to what your
witnesses testify. Plaisted sits and smiles through it
all, and Storrow looks as if he'd sacrifice the whole
issue for a nap. They're good attorneys,—at least they
are so called,—and what still further flabbergasts me,
is that they have the reputation of being fighters from
6 'way back'! Oh, it's too much for me! I can't make
it out.”
“ But, Doc," laughed his companion, “hasn't it
occurred to you that the defence sees, as clearly as the
prosecution, that Mr. Charles Bertram is fairly caught,
and that their client's best policy will be ultimately to
confess? Can you not conceive how, under these cir-
cumstances, they might just sit back and watch things
drift? "
“ Yes,” replied the doctor; “ and I can also see that
they might be intending to admit the facts, and contend
that · Charlie Bert' is morally irresponsible.”
“ Now, that is precisely what I expect, and I look
forward to that confession with a good deal of interest,


462 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
for I expect it to enlighten me upon the one detail which
as yet I have not mastered; for the rest, I flatter myself
I could write his 'confession for him now to his complete
satisfaction,-if he mean to tell the truth.”
“ And that detail is? ”
“You'll know all about it soon, Ned,” George replied.
“ To-morrow I go upon the stand myself, and there'll be
something doing, as they say, all the time. You'll
witness a somewhat unique and Poo-Bahish entertain-
ment, consisting of the severe and critical examination
of your friend George by your friend Maitland,
that's about what it will amount to, for I have coached
Barton in regard to what he is to ask me,-so if I get
beside myself, you will understand how it happened. I
intend to hew to the exact line, but, you know,
"• The best laid schemes o'mice and men
Gang aft a-gley.'”
"—And you may be like the fellow Robert Bridges
tells about when he says:
6. He sits in a sea-green grotto with a bucket of lurid paint,
And draws the Thing as it isn't, for the God of things as they
ain't.'»
“ By the way, George," continued the doctor;
“ apropos of Adrian Moreton's bereavement, isn't it
strange how Calamity seems to adopt some individuals
and families for her very own? Here are three deaths in
the Moreton household,-father, son and mother, and
all of them were the result of others' acts.”
“ Yes, and the blow is especially hard coming at just
this time,” his companion replied. “ He proposed to
Miss Sherwood the day before yesterday and was, of
course, rejected. This disappointment, the trial of one
of his brother's murderers, and then the news of his


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 453
sad bereavement make up a load under which almost any
man would stagger.”
“ Yes, and besides this, the Consolidated Wireless is
in a bad way,” replied the doctor. “The decrease of
capitalisation, being now an accomplished fact, Mont-
rose says, has utterly ruined any market there was for
the stock.—Hello! Speak of angels Good-evening,
Eric. I heard the bell, but I had no idea it was you,"
and Dr. Willard drew up a chair for his guest.
“ We were just speaking of you, Eric,” said George.
“I understand that the Consolidated is not in what
you would exactly call a buoyant condition.”
“ Buoyant! Ye gods!” exclaimed the young inventor,
with manifest disgust, “it's as flat as a doctrinal ser-
mon! Oh! these wonderful financiers have done the
trick all right, and you haven't seen their Machiavelian
masterpiece either! Their latest move is to charge me
with having received the money of the people upon
whom they unloaded their stock. I was coolly informed
yesterday that a Mrs. Harris had lost thirty thousand
dollars through me, and later, the very same day, that
a fellow named “ Armstrong' had lost all kinds o’
money' through my rascality. Now isn't that nice?”
“ But didn't you sell these people stock?” the doctor
asked.
“ Sell them stock!” ejaculated Eric. “Why, I
wouldn't know either one of them if I met them both in
my porridge-dish !Egad! I don't know now that they
are not merely imaginary creatures.”
“ But why should your financial associates wish to
blacken your character after ruining your prospects?”
Willard asked in a puzzled tone.
“ I will tell you,” responded Eric. “ Hansel & Son
had quite a finger in this pie, and unloaded a good block
of stock for cash which they needed in their business.'


454 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
The people who bought it are now howling that they
have been swindled. Well, the Messrs. Hansel are try-
ing to float another enterprise and, of course, the Wire-
less transaction is thrown in their teeth at every turn.
They see no better way to “save their face' than gen-
erously to credit me with all the blame.”
“ But how dare they do this?” asked the doctor.
“ It's a matter of cowardice, not of daring,” rejoined
the inventor. « Telling the truth would be where the
courage would come in. The Messrs. Hansel are no
fools. They work by innuendo. They “ permit’ it to
be understood that all the stock was mine, and that I got
all the money. They are even kind and truthful enough
to create the impression that my invention is worthless,
and that I sold them-sold, mind you a gold-brick.
They were, forsooth, grievously disappointed in me and
mine; but in the enterprise they are now capitalising
they have an inventor who is the soul of honour,' and an
invention destined to revolutionise the entire Solar Sys-
tem, etc., etc., etc.,” and young Montrose laughed a
hard, bitter laugh.
“ It's all pretty low-down trickery, Eric,” said George
sympathetically, “but never you mind. The devil
hasn't yet invented the lie which can stand the test of
time, and the truth will some day be known.”
6 And I make the prophecy now and here," exclaimed
Willard earnestly, “ that the name of Montrose will
live as that of a benefactor of his race when these
financial liars and tricksters are but a handful of for-
gotten dust!”
“ And in the meantime?” said Eric solemnly.
“ In the meantime? ” laughed Maitland. "Why, in
the meantime, my Romeo, ~Love can hope where reason
would despair."
The troubled expression on Eric's face gave place to


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 455
a look of sweet contentment, as, seizing Maitland's
hand, he exclaimed:
“ As a doctor, George, ministering to a mind dis-
eas'd,' and plucking from the memory a rooted sor-
row, you are certainly a magician!”
" That's so!” laughed Willard; “ for in Nature's
materia medica love is put down as wizardry.”


CHAPTER IV
But few minds, it has been said, are capable of comprehending
the doctrine of chances. In the throwing of a single die there is,
of course, one chance in six that the four, say, will come upper-
most. Suppose now, we throw five times without getting the four.
What is the ratio of likelihood that the next trial will give it to
us ?—Can the accumulated experience of a die affect its future?
If so, how can we estimate any chance in connection with it? If
not so, how can there be any chance in connection with it to es-
timate?-Verily, the calculus of probabilities is but another
expression for the algebra of coincidences, and in the presence
of what appear to us as irreconcilable axioms, it behooves us to
search for a new generalisation.
THE fourth day of the trial of Charles Bertram for the
murder of James Eldredge Moreton was entirely con-
sumed in hearing the testimony of George Maitland. It
is not often that a counsel in a case is, at the same time,
its most important witness; and there was, therefore, a
quite unusual flutter of excitement when District
Attorney Barton called Maitland to the stand. The
questions he asked were those the witness had himself
prepared, and were intended to develop a multitude of
facts with which the reader already is familiar, as well
as many which, thus far, have not been put before him.
In view of these circumstances, therefore, it does not
seem necessary to quote Maitland's testimony in extenso,
it being considered quite sufficient to repeat its novel
and more essential portions.
The witness told how he had been employed by Mr.
James Moreton as a private detective, in the belief that
he might be able to shed some light upon certain mys-
terious threatening letters which were causing the young
financier considerable anxiety. Several of these letters
were put in evidence, the witness testifying as follows:
456


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 457
Q. Did you notice anything peculiar in regard to these
missives?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Please state what attracted your attention.
A. I first noticed that they all bore the selfsame hi-
eroglyph to which, at that time, I was unable to attach
any meaning. Later, Mr. Moreton showed me a news-
paper representation of the weapon which had killed
his father some twenty-five years previously. Upon the
blade was the same hieroglyph.
Q. What did you infer from this?
A. But two explanations presented themselves to my
mind. The mysterious figure, I thought, might be the
symbol of some brotherhood or organisation pledged
to wreak vengeance, not only upon the elder Moreton,
but upon other members of his family as well; or it
might have been adopted, in these present instances, by
some person or persons who knew nothing whatever of
its real significance, and merely made use of it to im-
press Mr. Moreton with the great gravity of the threats
directed against him. When I learned what the assas-
sins of the elder James Moreton had said to his wife
at the time of the murder, and considered carefully the
singular fact that in no instance did the letters demand
money,—or anything else for that matter,—as an alter-
native to the threatened fate, I was led to consider the
former theory as by far the more probable, although,
for reasons which seemed to me quite sufficient at the
time, I led Mr. Moreton himself to accept the other view
of the matter.
Q. What other peculiarities, if any, did you notice?
A. The majority of the letters were typewritten.
They were dated at cities separated from each other
by very considerable distances, and their enclosing en-
velopes showed them to have been mailed at these places.


458
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
My suspicions were naturally aroused when I discovered
that every one of the typewritten letters had been
written upon the same machine.
Q. Do you mean the same make of machine?
A. I mean the identical instrument. One of two con-
clusions seemed inevitable. Either the writer of these
letters carried a machine with him from city to city,
or else he wrote them in one place and dated and mailed
them as if written in another. The latter theory im-
pressed me as the more probable.
Q. How were you able to determine that all these
letters were printed upon the same machine?
A. By certain typographical peculiarities. There are
as many as thirty-five of these, but a few will be suf-
ficient to illustrate what I mean. If you will carefully
compare all the letters, you will note that the small “ e,”
the letter which is of most frequent occurrence in our
language, exhibits, in every instance, a little open place
at its extreme top, caused by a nick in the type which
produced it. Furthermore, you will see that it has
undergone a leftwardly rotation of several degrees.
Now, these two peculiarities alone would be quite suffi-
cient to settle the whole matter; for it would be very
unlikely that two machines would have the same letter
nicked; still more unlikely that the nicks would be of the
same size; increasingly improbable that they would
also be upon the same part of the same character; and
a million times less likely that all these peculiarities
would be found upon a type which was in anywise
noticeably displaced. What should be said, then, when
we find the displacement invariably to be of a rotative
character? What when we further ascertain that the
rotation is always to the left? And what when it is
invariably the same number of degrees?
Q. How did you make sure of this last point?


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 459
A. I photographed the various letters, and then en-
larged them, by lantern projection, to more than a
hundred diameters, after which I measured the angular
rotative displacement of the vertical axes of the “e's ”
upon a protractor.
Q. Are there other peculiarities common to all the mis-
sives which can readily be pointed out?
A. Yes, sir. The small “m” is rightwardly displaced
in every instance, and, being an over-wide letter, the
“ huddling” effect is very noticeable. Small “ a,” “ C,"
and “v” all print too high; while “ g,” “n,” “0,"
6 s,” and “ u” all print too low. Cap. “W” and small
“1” are both “ off their feet,” and print too heavy at
their lower edges ; while small “h, small “j” and
Cap. “R” have just the reverse defect. There are
many other purely typographical evidences,—which
could only be shown with scientific instruments,—which
go to corroborate what the nicked and rotated “e”
alone proves beyond a peradventure.
Q. You say you are sure all these printed letters were
written upon the one machine. Do you know the name
of this machine?
A. Yes, sir. They were all written upon a Remington.
Q. Have you any reason to suspect any particular
Remington?
A. Yes, sir; more than that, I know absolutely that
they were all printed upon that identical machine there
upon the table,—the machine which was brought here
from the room occupied by Messrs. Bertram and Gates
in Mr. Moreton's suite of offices at 30 Broad Street.
This announcement created a profound sensation among
the listeners, who watched the net slowly close about
Charles Bertram with that absorbing interest which
possesses a hunter as he nears the end of the trail of
big game.—Mr. Barton continued:


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 461
ington, but that Mr. Bertram continued to do most of
the work, so that he, Gates, never had enough to do to
acquire any considerable degree of dexterity. Bertram,
on the contrary, he informs us, could take slow dicta-
tion, and frequently did so. He states that Mr. More-
ton himself was a rapid operator. It is evident, there-
fore, that this machine must have been kept in a
condition permitting its rapid operation. A typewriter
which is suitably adjusted for slow manipulation is not,
of necessity, in proper working condition for a rapid
operator. Every time a key is released, the carriage
moves one space, to make room for the next letter to be
printed. If, therefore, the keys be struck in very rapid
succession, the carriage must make its step-by-step
movements with great rapidity, and this can only be
brought about by a very considerable tension of the
spring operating it. This tension makes the key-action
somewhat harder, but it is simply indispensable to a
rapid writer, for without it the carriage would respond
so sluggishly that the characters would be superimposed
upon one another. Now, Messrs. Bertram and Gates are
the only persons who could have written those letters,
because only they had the opportunity. I believe I can
show conclusively that no one of the missives is in the
typewriting of Mr. Gates.
Q. Please explain what leads you to this conclusion.
A. If you will examine these letters you will find ample
evidence to sustain my contention. Let us, for example,
take two of them written several months apart, the one
dated Philadelphia, December 20th, and addressed to
Mr. Moreton, and the other dated New York, June 13th
-the very day of the murder and addressed to me.
We will consider the former first. The seventh word in
the body of this letter is the word “ sealed,” and I will
ask you to note that the “d” partially overlaps the “ e"


462 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
in the final “ed ” of the word. The third word of the
next sentence is “ of,” the “f” of which is in contact
with the “o.” In the next sentence the fourth from
the last word, “and,” shows the “n” and the “d”
overlapping, and both of them too near the “ a." Take,
now, the letter which I received by special delivery the
morning after the murder. The eighth word, “that,"
and the “ing" in the twenty-fourth word, exhibit the
same “ huddling " tendency. The ninth word in the
fifth sentence is “ progress,” in which you will at once
observe that the two final “ s’s ” are partially super-
imposed. Look at the very last sentence. The “ing”
in “meddling” and the “an” in “ can ” are huddled
together.
Q. Will you state what bearing this has upon your
conclusion?
A. It shows that the machine upon which all these
letters were printed,—the machine which was given a
carriage-tension sufficient to meet, let us say, the ordi-
nary requirements of two such skilled operators as Mr.
Moreton and Mr. Bertram,—was yet too sluggish for the
man who wrote these letters, when he came to print the
familiar, - because oft-recurring, — combinations of
characters to which I have invited attention. Now, if
you will examine James Moreton's letter-book, you will
find in all the letters written by Mr. Bertram between
December 20th and June 13th,—the respective dates of
the two missives we have just examined,—the same
“ huddling” tendency exhibited in such familiar combi-
nations as “ed,” “ an,” “ing,” etc. As you turn back-
ward from December 20th, you find the tendency less
and less marked the more remote the date, until it prac-
tically disappears a few weeks from the time we are told
the Remington was installed.
Q. How was it when the Caligraph was used?


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 463
A. Here is the book containing the Caligraph work
just prior to the introduction of the Remington. You
will note the same tendency to “bunch ” familiar com-
binations.
Q. You rely wholly, then, upon the statement of
Gates that he was not a rapid writer upon either ma-
chine to prove that these letters were the work of Mr.
Bertram?
A. No, sir. If Mr. Gates had claimed to be a skilled
operator, I should not have hesitated to contradict him.
Q. Upon what ground?
A. Please turn again to the letter-books. You note
that all the letters written by Bertram are initialled
“ C. B.” under the words “ dictated to," while the few
that Mr. Gates printed bear the letters “ H. G.” simi-
larly located. Now, you will look in vain for any
“huddling ” of characters in letters bearing the initials
“H. G.," while you will find abundant evidence of
erasures, improperly spaced punctuations, badly aligned
capitals,—showing that the shift-key was not properly
operated,—and an occasional mixture of upper and lower
case, not always completely erased.
In the letters initialled “ C. B.” you do not find these
mistakes, but you do find the “huddling” tendency, and
an occasional transposition of characters, as “ ain" for
“ian ”-defects peculiar to rapid writers.
Q. Are there any other observations which have influ-
enced your conclusion ?
A. Yes, sir. Mr. Bertram got to be as rapid a Cali-
graph operator as his employer, though the latter had
used that machine several years before Bertram even
learned its keyboard. Now, the Caligraph keys have a
short dip, and a hard action, requiring, if you please, a
sharp, staccato touch for their manipulation. Once
acquired, the Caligraph operator never fully forgets this


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 465
Remington. You will note that where the Caligraph
arrangement runs “w, t, r, e, y,” the Remington order
is “w, e, r, t, y.” In printing “rtpent” for “repent,"
the finger of the operator strayed on to the old familiar
key which, in the Caligraph, used to produce “ e," and
got “t” as a result. In the word first written“ mur-
dtrer" the " + " is accounted for in the same way. Now,
where the Caligraph keyboard runs “a, s, d, f, g, h, c,"
the Remington order is “a, s, d, f, g, h, j,” the “c” of
the Caligraph occupying the place of the Remington
“j," which accounts for the word “ necessary” being
misspelled “nejessary.” I regard all this as the most
conclusive evidence that these letters were written by one
in whose subconsciousness still lived the “ memory,” if
you will permit the term, of the Caligraph's key arrange-
ment. We know that this could not be said of Henry
Gates, and are accordingly able, it seems to me, to state
with the most absolute assurance that every one of those
letters was written by Charles Bertram. If, now, you
will examine this cryptogram, which I myself found
immediately after the murder close by the body of the
victim, you will observe that it, too, was written upon
the identical machine used in the production of the
threatening letters.
Q. Is there anything else in regard to these letters
which has influenced you in the conviction you say you
have formed?
A. Yes, sir. The date of the earliest of these letters
is but a little subsequent to that of the first two false
entries in Bertram's books. The first defalcation repre-
sents money which Bertram took for a stock “ flier,"
and which doubtless he expected at once to replace. The
market declined, and the second false entry indicates
funds which went to cover margins. Then came a bear
raid, resulting in a panic, which swept Mr. Bertram clean
e iden/ou will the stog


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 467
of this robbery among criminals of the very highest
grade of intelligence.
Q. Do you know how this powder came to be upon the
floor?
A. It was used in the robbery, and a little of it was
accidentally spilled.
Q. Please explain how it was used.
A. The mixture is one of several substances belonging
to the recently discovered science known as “ alumino-
thermics,” and is called “thermit.” When a pound,
say, of this “ thermit” is ignited by applying a storm-
match to a small pinch of ignition-powder placed in the
middle of its surface, a reaction is at once started. This
extends quickly and steadily from the point of ignition,
and,no matter what the quantity used,—involves the
whole mass in less than a minute. This reaction develops
a heat estimated at fifty-four hundred degrees Fahren-
heit. Now, several pounds of this “ thermit” were placed
by the robbers in a large crucible and ignited. When
the reaction had taken place the crucible was tapped
at the bottom and its contents poured upon the safe,
through which it promptly melted a hole. The clay dam
which had served to retain the molten contents of the
crucible in contact with the portion of the safe to be
melted had left such unmistakable evidences of its use
that I could not but marvel that my official friends were
so readily led astray.
Q. Do I understand that you feel assured that elec-
tricity played no part in melting the hole in the safe?
A. It could not possibly have done so. I examined the
insulation upon the outside mains. It had not been tam-
pered with.
Q. But might not the current which lighted the office
have been employed?
A. No, sir. All that current comes through a metre


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
469
someone, for the pages upon which it was printed were
the only ones in the magazine which had been carefully
pressed open, and the second page of the article—which
is numbered “ 242 ” in the publication-bore a minute
blot of carmine ink, such as bookkeepers use for rulings.
I am confident, of course, that this very article, which
describes the exact method of melting a hole through a
heavy plate of wrought iron, furnished the informa-
tion for this very clever exhibition of the cracksman's
craft.
The witness then described some of his discoveries at
163 Lombrose Street. He explained how the pistol had
been fired by someone standing at, or near, the place
where he remembered Charles Bertram stood when the
lights went out. He illustrated, with great care, the
clever way in which the current had been short-circuited
so as to blow the metre-fuse and plunge the room in
darkness.
He dwelt at length upon the fact that there were no
windows whatever in the room, and no possible means
of egress or ingress save the one door. He impressed
upon the Court, by repeated statement, the fact that
this door was locked, and that he himself and many
others stood just outside it in the hall until the arrival
of the medical examiner and the officers. He then told
how he and Dr. Carew returned to the room with the
examiner and the officers, and of the terrible shock
which there awaited them. When he testified with pains-
taking detail to this miraculous disappearance of the
corpse, notwithstanding the fact that the District Attor-
ney had already alluded to it, in a general way, the jury,
no less than the spectators, fairly gasped in open-
mouthed amazement. It was quite another thing to
have every particular so graphically put before them.
Some were even loth to believe their ears, and a buzz of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 471
million knives was available in this particular instance.
Now, how shall we find whether or not this identical one
of the twenty-five million knives actually did the whit-
tling in question?
Q. That is precisely what we want to know.
A. Upon examination we find that this knife has sev-
eral peculiarities which we will separately consider.
First: there is a nick somewhere about half an inch from
the lower end of the blade. Now, in twenty-five million
knives how many would be likely to have nicked blades?
Only those which had been improperly used. Let us,
however, place the estimate very high,—say, two out of
every five,—or, in round numbers, ten million. Now, I
have been able, by lantern projection, to determine
with absolute certainty the precise location of this
nick to within a thousandth part of the length of the
blade.
Q. Just what do you mean by its location ?
A. The exact distance of the nick from the declivitous
shoulder near the handle, where the cutting edge sud-
denly ceases. This shoulder registered itself upon the
board at the same time that the nearest nick did, thus
enabling me to determine, to within a thousandth part
of the length of the blade, just the distance between this
nearest nick and the aforementioned shoulder.
Q. I think that is clear.
A. If so, it will be seen that this nick might have
occupied any one of nine hundred and ninety-nine other
readily distinguishable locations along the blade. This
far more than justifies us in dividing our ten million
by one thousand, which gives us a quotient of ten thou-
sand. Now, all this is thus far computed upon a basis
manifestly too liberal to the other side ; for we have
simply added improbabilities where we would have been
justified in multiplying them, since, if the chance of a


474
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
I cut away a thin, transverse section of this electrotype,
and carefully mounted it upon a slip of glass. The rest
was a mere matter of lantern projection. I placed the
knife-blade itself in one lantern and my prepared sec-
tion in another, and brought the one image down upon
the other. They were so exactly alike that I could bring
the enlarged images within a hundredth of an inch of
each other without perceiving the slightest deviation
from absolute parallelism. Their superimposition was
perfect!
Q. Where did you procure this knife?
A. I borrowed it of Mr. Charles Bertram.
This announcement created a profound sensation. All
eyes were turned toward the prisoner, who shifted his
position uneasily and seemed, on the whole, noticeably
nervous.
Q. You have testified to the disappearance of the mur-
dered man's body immediately after the crime was com-
mitted, and while you and many others were standing
in the hallway just outside of the only door leading from
the room in which you had left the corpse. Can you tell
us how, without detection, the assassin, alone or assisted,
removed his victim's body from the room in which he
killed him?
A. Yes, sir. I believe I can.
As the witness made this reply the court room as-
sumed a grave-like stillness. So intense was the interest
that the spectators seemed to hold their breath as with
one accord. At last they were to know how the impos-
sible,—for so they regarded it, -had been achieved!
The District Attorney continued.
Q. Please state to what you owe this belief.
Everyone leaned forward in order that no word of the
witness's reply might be lost. Expectation was keyed
to its utmost limit. As Maitland was about to answer


CHAPTER V
The difference between curiosity and interest is the difference
between skin and bone,-between the epiphyte and the tap-root.
We are curious about detached experiences, but only those things
interest us which fit into the cosmic mosaic adorning the deep
and dimly lighted penetralia of our subconsciousness.
The fifth day of the trial opened with George Mait-
land still on the stand. District Attorney Barton con-
tinued his examination from the point where it had been
interrupted by the previous day's adjournment. The
District Attorney's last question, “ Please state to
what you owe this belief,” was read, and the witness
answered as follows:
A. When I had discovered how the lights were turned
off, and the manner in which the pistol had been fired,
I at once became impressed with the idea that every-
thing had been worked from within the room. The some-
what elaborate devices for deception which I had already
discovered were clearly arranged by someone who re-
peatedly had access to the room. Then I remembered
where Mr. Bertram had stood when the lights were
extinguished, and my suspicions immediately assumed
a definite trend. Suddenly I recollected seeing at least
two books upon magic in the little wall-closet at 30
Broad Street, and with this recollection came the
thought that these works might very possibly throw
some light upon the mysteries still unsolved. I im-
mediately locked and sealed the room and left the
building. In less than an hour I was examining the
contents of the fireproof closet in the Johnston Build-
476


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 479
I suddenly removed my hands and let the book fall open
at random. It opened at page 321. I repeated the
experiment five times, with the result that I got page 321
four times and page 325 once, making a total of 321
five out of six times. This I considered as very good
evidence that the volume had been opened at page 321
sufficiently often, or held open sufficiently long, to
render that particular portion of the volume less resist-
ant to flexure than any other. I then read pages
321 and 325 and found that both of them treated of
Baron Kempelen's automaton chess-player. I recorded
my results, and performed the same experiment six
times upon No. 3. This was a little flat-backed volume,
and the covers would not of themselves fall clear back
upon the desk. I had, therefore, to note the place where
the volume gaped open the widest. The results were as
follows: pages 97, 102, 97, 111, 97, 102. Upon exam-
ination I found that “ Mælzel's Chess-Player " occupied
pages 90 to 128 inclusive, page 97 containing an illustra-
tive diagram. The very first page of this article con-
tains a reference to the identical book we have catalogued
as No. 2, while a perusal of No. 2 shows Baron Kempelen
to have been the inventor of the automaton exhibited
in Great Britain by M. Mælzel in 1819-20. Let us now
look at No. 4. What is meant by “ Autom. Brit.”? Of
course, “ Automaton” at once suggests itself to us as
the full outline of the first abbreviation, and, a moment
later, “ Britannica” as that of the second. This I
assumed to be a reference to the article “ Automaton”
in the Encyclopædia Britannica. This, of course, I
could not at once verify.
Q. Did you subsequently read that article?
A. Yes, sir; and found it dealt with Kempelen's
Automaton. I proceeded in the same manner with No.
5, and got 370, 46, 370, 373, 46, 370. Upon exami-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 483
compartments of this wardrobe was thoroughly ex-
amined at the time we are considering?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. How, then, did this wardrobe enable the assassin
to secrete his victim's body if the corpse was not in it
at the time of its examination?
A. The corpse was in it at the time of its examination,
and the murderer also.
This announcement utterly staggered both jury and
spectators.
Q. How could the corpse of a child,—to say nothing
of that of so large a man as James Eldredge Moreton,-
be concealed in the wardrobe during the actual time
when five men were examining both its compartments
by the light of a large kerosene lamp? .
This was precisely what the spectators and the jury.
wished to know.
A. If you will examine No. 2 or No. 5 upon my cata-
logue of the contents of the little fireproof closet at 30
Broad Street, you will discover that the basic principle
of Baron Kempelen's automaton chess-player has only
to be applied to our wardrobe to make everything per-
fectly plain. With this wardrobe, as with the Baron's
automaton, no space large enough to secrete the small-
est human being was left unexamined, but,—and here
is the secret of the whole deception,—we did not examine
both compartments at one and the same time.
Q. Will you explain this more specifically?
A. Yes, sir. The assassin seized the corpse by its
waist, and, holding it in an upright position in front
of him, entered the compartment marked “1” on my
diagram, and closed its door behind him, the spring
lock holding it fast. Then, pressing against the mov-
able partition, he passed with the corpse into compart-
ment“ 2,” when the position of the rectangular, hinged


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 485
a crime should not have considered the possibility of
these wardrobe doors being opened in an order different
from that which actually obtained?
A. It certainly did at first, and I even went further,
and asked myself what assurance the assassin had that
both doors would not be opened at once. As I studied
the matter more thoroughly, however, and examined more
closely into the intricacies of the wardrobe, I found
that the assassin had provided against both of these
points with an ingenuity which amazed me. The means
employed for this purpose have impressed me as some of
the strongest evidential circumstances making toward
the prisoner's guilt.
Q. Please explain yourself more fully.
A. Mr. Bertram had much to do with the appointments
at 163 Lombrose Street. To my mind this is a most
significant fact. The railing about the door enclosed
this wardrobe and the letterpress stand, and ended a
few inches beyond the northern end of the wardrobe.
The space enclosed by this railing was not wide enough
to permit the copying outfit to be moved away from the
front of the wardrobe a sufficient distance to permit its
doors to swing, while the desk at which Mr. Bertram sat,
when he examined the qualifications of the stockholders
and proxies, prevented anyone from moving the letter-
press stand near enough to the hall door to permit the
opening of compartment No. 1. The northerly angle
of the railing rendered it similarly impracticable to move
the copying cabinet far enough in that direction to
enable one to open compartment No. 2 of my diagram.
Thus it will be seen that it was absolutely impossible to
open both doors at once without either bodily lifting
the copying cabinet over the railing or moving Mr.
Bertram's desk, neither of which acts would have been
at all natural under the circumstances.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 489
the threaten?63 Lombrose She gruesome
the victim had been buried with a watch not in his pos-
session at the time of his murder, and without the one he
was known to possess; and several reasons why this
might have been done formulated themselves in my mind,
only to find that they could make no headway against the
conviction that one John White was hurrying away from
New York with James Moreton's head in his trunk.
The witness then related the details of the gruesome dis-
interment in the rear of 163 Lombrose Street, and again
adverted to the threatening letter he had received by
special delivery the morning after the murder. He said
this letter left no doubt that his search with the hound
upon the night of the murder had been observed either
by the assassin or an accomplice.
He told how he had found the mysterious cryptogram
by the murdered man's body, and the document was
placed in evidence. He then adverted to the letter he
had received from Madame Duval, and told how he and
Dr. Willard had learned through her the whereabouts
of the buried body. Explaining, then, the system of
the cryptogram, and submitting a translation of the
same, he called attention to the fact that the informa-
tion derived from Madame Duval was precisely that
contained in the cipher.
At this juncture District Attorney Barton said:
“ The ramifications of this case are quite extraordi-
nary, and, if followed to the uttermost, would show a
record of crime not only on the part of the prisoner, but
upon that of several others as well. The prosecution is
prepared, if necessary, to follow every evidential thread
to its remote end, but it has no desire, at this juncture,
if it can be avoided, to examine into matters which will
inflict injury in somewhat remote quarters. We can-
not but feel, in view of the overwhelming evidence against
the accused, that he may desire, before this trial is


490
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
finished, to avail himself of his privilege to withdraw,
with the consent of the Court, his former plea and plead
guilty. Such a course would save certain of his friends
a deal of very painful notoriety. In view of these con-
siderations, if it please the Court, the prosecution will
not at present examine the witness upon all collateral
lines of evidence, though it may be necessary to do so
a little later.
The witness then testified to many things with which
the reader is already familiar, going into Madame
Duval's planchette-communication with great thorough-
ness.
District Attorney Barton then returned to the subject
of the disposal of James Moreton's body, and the ex-
amination proceeded as follows:
Q. Do you believe the same man who killed Mr. More-
ton also made away with his body?
A. I do, most assuredly.
Q. Do you believe the accused performed both of these
acts?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Can you inform us just when and how the body was
disposed of?
A. I did not see the act performed, and can, therefore,
offer no direct proof. My own convictions are the result
of circumstantial evidence which impresses me as of a
very high order of probability.
Q. Is it your belief that the accused buried his victim
early upon the night of the murder?
A. No, sir.
Q. Do you think he buried him before the commission
of the robbery?
A. No, sir.
Q. Between that time and daylight?
A. No, sir.


492 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Q. (By the Court). Why, then, did you assert it as
your belief that James Moreton's corpse was buried
between ten and eleven o'clock on the night of June 13th?
A. I am not aware, Your Honour, that I made any
such statement.
Q. (By the Court). You certainly did.
A. You mistake, Your Honour; I am positive I did not.
Again the laugh went round.
The Court. The stenographer will please read the
question to which the witness replied by naming a time
between ten and eleven o'clock on the night of the
murder.
The Stenographer (reading). “When, in your
opinion, did he dispose of his victim's body?”
The Court (to witness). Now, sir; what reply did you
make to that?
A. I replied: “ Between ten and eleven o'clock on the
night of the murder, I should think.”
The spectators began to wonder if the witness were
losing his senses, while the jury looked as if it had just
answered that question in the affirmative.
Q. (By the Court). And what, pray, did you un-
derstand me to ask?
A. I think your exact words were: “Why, then, did
you assert it as your belief that James Moreton's corpse
was buried between ten and eleven o'clock on the night
of June 13th? ”
Q. (By the Court). Well, sir?
A. Your difficulty, Your Honour, arises from your as-
sumption that disposed of and buried are synony-
mous in this case.—I believe James Moreton's corpse
was disposed of by sinking it in the Hudson between
the hours I have mentioned. I do not believe it was ever
buried by the assassin.
The spectators looked helplessly at each other. The


CHAPTER VI
The fire-engine has the right of way before all other traffic;
and there are times, in the lives of all of us, when it seems as if
the horrent hosts of Calamity were a sort of infernal fire depart-
ment, taking precedence over all the normal activities of our
hopes.
“SEE here, Mr. Detective,” said Dr. Willard to George
Maitland about three hours after the occurrence of the
events last narrated, “what makes you think · Charlie
Bert' threw the body into the river?"
“ Because I learned, after my return from New Zea-
land,” answered Maitland, “ that a man's body, loaded
down with stones, had been brought up by a dredger a
few weeks after the murder. The corpse, of course,
was in an unrecognisable condition. It remained at the
morgue unclaimed, and was finally buried. As nearly
as can be estimated from its recorded condition when
found, it must have been thrown into the water some-
where about June 13th. Of course I have something
more accurate than the condition of the corpse to go
by; for instance: The body was thrown into the river
nearly three hundred feet from shore. The boat
used was hired of one Michael Riley, who was able to
fix the hour from the fact that his suspicions were
excited by the strange behaviour of the two young men.
He had seen them row out from shore, go up the river
a short distance, then row in shore and take some sort
of large bundle aboard. The moon was bright, but his
eyes were too old to enable him to tell much about this
bundle, except that it had seemed heavy enough to
require both men to lift it. Then the boat had been
494


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 495
taken out into the stream, and he had heard a splash,
as if some heavy object had been dropped over its side,
though he had not actually seen anything consigned to
the waters. The boat was at once returned to him, and
it contained no bundle. He gave me a far better de-
scription of Bertram and Gates than I could reasonably
expect so long after the occurrence. I had the body
which the dredger brought up disinterred for examina-
tion. Its measurements and the colour of the hair were
right for Moreton's body. The teeth were almost per-
fect, only one of them,—the left lower wisdom tooth,-
having been filled. I visited Moreton's dentist and
learned from his books that he had filled James
Eldredge's third lower left molar just prior to the
Christmas before his death. It was the only time More-
ton had ever been to him, and he did not think he had
ever had any other New York dentist. He did not
remember noticing any other fillings.”
“But I can't understand, George,” interrupted Wil-
lard, “what part the body we unearthed played in this
affair, and why the watch and that expensive jewelry
should have been buried.”
“ Why, simply to make us believe the body was that of
James Moreton, and that the crime was one of ven-
geance,—or, what amounts to the same thing, that rob-
bery was not its purpose. If Henry Gates had remained
faithful to his principal we should have a very much
harder nut to crack. Bertram, of course, relied upon
Gates keeping his mouth shut, instead of which he has
been frightened into telling how Moreton was robbed of
his watch, jewels, etc., the day before the murder.
Bertram took these valuables then because he wanted to
fix up that quicklime-grave the night before the murder.
163 Lombrose Street was then an innocent locality,
whereas he knew that, twenty-four hours later, it would


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 497
“ How should the shape of the skull betray anything?"
asked the doctor.
“ Because the buried man was a negro, a worthless,
drunken vagabond, known by the luscious cognomen of
* Persimmons Pete. If you had ever seen him, you would
be sure to remember him. He was over six feet tall;
had a limping, shambling gait, which was the result of
three factors, namely :-the nervous condition due to his
inebriacy; a pronounced case of that bow-leggedness so
common to his race, and an inequality in the length of
his legs, the right one being some two inches shorter
than its mate. His left arm had been broken when a
child, and so badly set that he could not straighten it,
in short, he looked, for all the world, like a thing of
shreds and patches' dropped in the gutter from
Nature's remnant-counter. He was found dead in the
street and sent to the morgue. Dr. Carew obtained
the body, and Bertram must have gotten it from him.
He probably told him he wanted it to dissect, though I
am fully persuaded that a word from Madame Duval
would have secured the cadaver without question, and
without explanation.”
“ Upon my soul, George, you amaze me!” exclaimed
the doctor. “ The body was buried in quicklime for the
same reason, I suppose, that the head was removed, viz.,
to prevent the immediate discovery of the ruse."
“ Exactly,” replied his companion briefly.
“Do you know, George," continued Willard, “I feel
almost as bad for Carew as I do for Bertram. His case
is a tragedy in ethics. Think of it! Because years
ago, out of pure kindness of heart, he did an illegal act,
he must now be made the unwilling puppet of such a
woman as Madame Duval.”
“ It is indeed dreadful for a man of his superior moral
fibre,” George replied; " and I sincerely hope Bertram
the bodund sent to thter. Her
in, I supposes te discovery briefly.


498 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
will break down and confess before we are forced to drag
the good doctor into the case. As yet the prisoner has
shown no signs of weakening; still we, who know his
remarkably keen intelligence, cannot but conclude that
he sees the hopelessness of his case quite as clearly as
we do. Now, such being the fact, is he going gratui-
tously to subject “The Eichberg' and the Madame to
what he knows full well is in store for them? I cannot
think so.”
“I quite agree with you," replied his companion. “ By
the way, you mustn't forget to be in good season to-
morrow night. Suppose you call for me here, and we'll
go up to Madame La Salle's together. Can you make it
as early as 7:30? The first wedding is to take place at
8:30, and the best men would be considered the worst
men if they were late, you know.”
“ I'll be here at 7:30, Doc,” George replied. “ Which
couple is to be married first, Mrs. Moreton and Eric?”
“ No; Miss Sherwood and Elbert, I believe,” said Wil-
lard. “Did you ever see two finer couples ? It makes
one sentimental to think of them!”
The sixth day of Charles Bertram’s trial opened with
George Maitland still upon the stand.
The witness testified at length to particulars already
narrated in regard to the exhuming of the corpse of
“ Persimmons Pete” from its quicklime-grave in the rear
of 163 Lombrose Street. He showed why this make-
believe body of James Moreton had been buried in
advance, and told all he knew in regard to the disposal
of the real body, by consigning it to the waters of the
Hudson upon the night of the murder. He detailed
fully, link by link, the unanswerable chain of circum-
stantial evidence making for the conviction that the
body taken from the river actually was that of the
Hudse real body, all he knew iton had been this make-
stilly, link on the night signing it and to the cried in
bodytial evidencink, the unof the murdthe waters isposal


500 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
been that of the murdered man, the prosecution has
decided to offer evidence upon this subject.”
The examination then proceeded as follows:
Q. Who took charge of the contents of the grave in the
rear of 163 Lombrose Street?
A. I did.
(The prosecution then exhibited a collection of human
bones and other articles taken from the grave.)
Q. Can you tell me what these bones are?
A. Yes, sir; they are the bones of “ Persimmons Pete,"
a negro, exhumed from the grave at 163 Lombrose
Street.
Q. Might they not be the bones of James Moreton?
A. No, sir; they are not the bones of a white man.
Q. Explain to us upon what you base these convic-
tions?
(The witness took up the various articles in the ex-
hibit from time to time to illustrate his testimony.)
A. I have here the femur and tibia of the right leg of
the subject. Adjusting these bones in their proper
relative relations, you perceive at once that this right
leg is bent laterally, or bowed, to a very noticeable
degree. Let us take, now, the bones of the left leg. We
note a similar lateral curvature, though in this case
the curve is not quite so marked. If we consider the
bones of both limbs together, we shall at once perceive
the cause of this. Here we have them arranged side by
side. Placing, now, the head of each femur upon this
line upon the table, and being careful that its corre-
sponding tibia properly articulates with its lower end,
let us mark carefully the exact location of the lowest
point of the inner malleolus of each of these tibia. If,
now, we measure from these points to the line upon
which the heads of the femora rest, we shall discover that
the distance, in the case of the bones of the right leg,


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 505
prognathous skull should not at once expose the de-
ception.
Q. Please explain that more fully.
A. A prognathous skull is one which has a gnathic
index above 103 degrees, and a facial angle below 80
degrees. The African and Australian are prognathous,
or “forward-jawed,” while the European is orthogna-
thous, or“ upright-jawed.” A low facial angle is due to
the ape-like slope of the face of the African and Aus-
tralian, as distinguished from the nearly upright Euro-
pean face.
The witness then related how he had discovered the hair
while cleaning and repairing the skeleton for future
use. He testified that he had placed it under a micro-
scope and convinced himself that it had been cut off
when the head had been severed from the body. He said
that he had regarded this hair of such great evidential
value that he had preserved it with the utmost care.
He explained that if he had known, at the time he had
first discovered it, what he had since learned about the
structure of hair, he should at once have perceived that
it never came from the head of James Moreton. When
asked what evidential importance he had originally at-
tached to it, the witness replied that its colour and
“ kinky" tendency had gone far to convince him that
it had come from the murdered man's head; while the
nature of the cut by which it had been severed threw
much light upon the condition of the instrument by
which the act had been performed, as well as upon the
method of its use. The witness had then asked that a
hair known to have come from James Moreton's head
be taken from Mrs. Moreton's locket and laid beside his
exhibit. This request had been complied with, and the
jury had satisfied themselves that the two were, as far as
they could see, indistinguishable.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 507
Q. Please tell us the significance of these figures.
A. They represent the shapes of the cross sections of
hairs of four different races, as given by Pruner-Bey.
These races are as follows: “a” Japanese; “b” Ger-
man; “c” African negro; “d” Papuan. We have, in
the three slips of paper upon the table, the hair from the
head of a Japanese, a German and a negro, while I
have here one from the head of James Moreton and one
found in the grave containing this skeleton. Let us
take this last one first. I will adjust it under the micro-
scope so that each juror may see for himself.
The jurors then examined it carefully, and the witness
continued:
You perceive that its section is precisely the shape of
that marked “c” in my diagram. Here is a section
which I have taken from the hair removed from Mrs.
Moreton's locket, and known to have come from the
murdered man's head. You observe that its outline
is that of the “b” of our diagram, which shows a section
of a hair from a member of the Caucasian race. You
will please note how impossible it would be to confuse
this outline with that of the hair found in the grave.
Clearly, then, this latter was not from the head of a
Caucasian. Let us see if, quite irrespective of Pruner-
Bey's researches, we can show it to have come from a
negro. Here is a section of the hair I found in the
paper marked “ N.” You will note that its form is
precisely that of the section taken from the hair found
in the grave.
The witness then prepared sections of the Japanese
and German hairs wrapped in the two remaining papers,
and the jurors examined them as they had already ex-
amined the others.
Q. How tall was Mr. James Moreton ?
A. On the first day of June,—less than two weeks be-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 509
'A. I believe that two persons were concerned in the
actual murder, but I do believe that but one entered
the wardrobe with the victim's corpse, for the simple
reason that that article of furniture is not large enough
to secrete the bodies of three men. I feel confident that
the accused not only participated in the murder, but
that he secreted the corpse in the wardrobe unassisted,
between the times stated, and that he subsequently
removed the same.
Q. Did he not leave the building with Messrs. Willard
and Gates ?
A. Yes, sir; but he and Gates almost immediately de-
tached themselves from Willard.
Q. And then you believe Bertram came back and
secreted the body?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Would he have had time to do so before the arrival
of the medical examiner?
A. Yes, sir, ample.
Q. Do you know at what time the medical examiner
arrived?
A. Yes, sir; at ten minutes of four.
Q. Might it not have been ten minutes earlier or later?
A. No, sir; not one minute earlier or later.
Q. When did you all go into the hall?
A. Not far from twenty minutes after three,-prob-
ably not more than eighteen,- I did not look.
Q. You are sure it was after three?
A. Yes, sir,-positive. The meeting was not called
to order till three.
Q. Thank you; that will do.
This was the first occasion upon which the defence
had cross-examined a witness, and the jury, no less than
the spectators, were entirely at a loss to understand
why they had done so in this particular instance, since


510
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
they did not attempt to break down so much as a single
statement the witness had made.
At this juncture District Attorney Barton said:
“ The prosecution rests its case here, secure in the
assurance that the Court will allow it to be reopened
for the introduction of further evidence, should such
action be necessary to the ends of justice.”
Mr. Storrow then opened for the defence. He omitted
the customary speech, a fact which much displeased the
prosecution, since it left them entirely in the dark as to
what the defence expected to prove.
Elbert Reiss was the first witness called. He testified
to having had a dagger indistinguishable from that
which the assassin had used, and admitted that he him-
self had been suspected on account of this weapon, and
had been unable to produce it when called upon to
do so.
The sight of this weapon, so like the one which had
killed his father, and the discussion of the gruesome
details connected with its use, seemed deeply to move
Mr. Moreton. It is, indeed, true that Adrian and his
brother James were never very companionable; and it
is likewise true that the father died before Adrian was
old enough to remember anything; but horror often
waits for a being to acquire the structure wherewith
to shudder,—at all events, it appeared to have done
so in this case.
Mr. James Rice was the next witness called for the
defence. He testified to being a police officer in Jersey
City; that his beat included Lombrose Street, and that
he was on duty in that vicinity on the afternoon of the
murder. At about twenty-five minutes after three he
had heard a woman's cry in the vicinity of Shrove Place.
He had hurried in that direction, and had seen a woman
and two men, all of them young, engaged in an alterca-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 513
them as they sat together in Madame La Salle's parlour
would easily have understood what made the hearts of
the two men opposite beat so wildly against their ribs.
Elbert and Eric pretended to converse, but neither one
knew what the other said,—he only knew that opposite
him sat an idolised being,—his heaven and his religion !
“ Ah! here they are,” said Reiss, as the doorbell rang.
Each diese four fely pre ting very
A momentey would not fail Reiss, as the
A moment later Maitland and Willard were shown in.
Each did his best to make his manner fit the occasion,
but if these four people had not had their powers of ob-
servation completely pre-empted, they would at once
have perceived that something very serious had occurred.
While Elbert and Marion, who were to be married first,
were taking their places, Dr. Willard whispered to Mait-
land:
“ Had we not better call him out now?”
“ No, not yet," replied his companion. “Elbert
would have no heart to bestow if we did. It will strike
him almost as hard as Eric!”
So the two men held their peace till Elbert Reiss and
the sweet young lady by his side were pronounced man
and wife.
Then Maitland beckoned to Eric, and the two men left
the room.
Mrs. Moreton waited patiently for her lover's return,
but in his place came Maitland. She glanced inquir-
ingly into his face and then sprang to her feet.
“ What has happened? ” she cried, unable to suppress
her alarm.
Maitland's face was as pale as ashes, and his lips
trembled as he replied:
“ Eric—Mr. Montrose has been suddenly taken ill-
very ill,-he-he begs that the ceremony be postponed
till-till his recovery."


514 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“ Til? Eric ill! I will go to him!” and Mrs. More-
ton started toward the door.
Maitland gently restrained the anxious woman, as he
said:
“ Alas, that is impossible! he has left the house."
With a low cry the woman fell, a limp mass, into his
arms.
Through the troubled mind of Elbert Reiss rang these
words, with the awful, sinister, rasping resonance of
the clang of doom: “ If the law can't reach him, the
lawless can; and I call you gentlemen to witness, now and
here, that if James Moreton perpetrate this outrage,
I'll put him where he can't repeat it, as sure as my name
is Eric Montrose!”
Again and again the terrible threat cried out its hollow
jargon deep in the very heart of Reiss's fear, till, un-
able to endure it longer, he rushed across the room and
seized Willard's arm with a grasp that fairly made the
doctor wince.
“ Speak, man! There is some mystery here, and you
can solve it!” he exclaimed close to his friend's ear.
“ Eric is not sick! I can see it in your face! Tell me!
Where is he?”
“ He he has left—the house!” stammered the doctor.
6 Left the house?!” repeated the artist. “What do
you mean? Did he go alone? Those officers—I saw
across the street-did-did he go with them?"
“I–I cannot answer!” the other replied..
“He did, then; I see it in your face! Oh, my God,
this is awful!” And the strong man buried his face
in his hands and wept like a child.


CHAPTER VII
Sin is subjective, crime objective. The motive is morally the
fact. In the domain of ethics the desire is the act. No law, save
only ecclesiastical law, has ever attempted to punish an inchoate
thought. Between the wish and its expression, however, there
usually is a close family likeness, wherefore it frequently happens,
that when the unclean bird of suspicion is looking for a criminal,
it settles where it scents a desire, confident that it has smelled
out a fact.
“When the defence sprung that incontrovertible alibi
upon us,” Maitland was saying to Willard as they pro-
ceeded from Madame La Salle's to their car, “I was
completely phased,' as the boys say. Then, like an in-
spirational flash, I perceived the one little bit of mosaic
necessary accurately to position every evidential fact,
and to give artistic completeness to this wonderful
masterpiece of crime !—There was only one course to
pursue, and precious little time to think about that.
The very first thing to do was to prevent the ceremony
by which Eric Montrose had planned to make Mrs.
Moreton his wife. This would save her from the shame,
the scorn, the contumely, and the public reproach which
she inevitably would have to bear were the marriage
consummated.”
“ But how will all this affect the State's case, George?”
asked Willard. “As I understand it, . Charlie Bert'
is the only man at present on trial, and you can't, I
suppose, take any action against anyone else in this
case. Under these circumstances what will you do? ”
“ As soon as the defence rests, we shall ask permission
to reopen and to introduce new evidence,” Maitland re-
plied. “ Then you may look for sensations; and if we
case. Under these action against anyone you can't, I
515


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 517
chief witness to the effect that he fully believed
that Charles Bertram, having helped to murder James
Moreton, returned almost immediately to the scene of
his crime and, alone and unassisted, concealed the corpse
in the wardrobe,—would probably content itself with the
alibi it had already proved in regard to the disposition
of the murdered man's body. Others,—and there were
many of them,-expected the defence would plead in-
sanity and moral irresponsibility, while not a few
thought the accused would confess, rather than suffer
his friends to endure the ordeal at which the State had
hinted in no uncertain terms. Besides all these, there
were still others who believed that Charles Bertram had
covered his tracks with such consummate skill that even
so clever a man as George Maitland would find himself
quite unable to weave any net about him through which,
at the proper moment, the slippery clerk would not pass
with derisive ease.
An ill-concealed excitement prevailed throughout the
room as Mr. Storrow arose to continue his examination
of the witnesses for the defence.
His very first words were a surprise, not only to the
spectators, but to the jury as well.
“Mr. Elbert Reiss will please take the stand," he said.
The witness replied to a number of questions, a large
percentage of which did not seem to have any very im-
mediate bearing upon the case, but to which the prosecu-
tion did not object, and then the examination proceeded
as follows:
Q. Were you not, shortly after the murder of James
Eldredge Moreton, arrested and examined in regard
thereto and subsequently discharged?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. During that examination were you shown a weapon
like this?


518 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
(Mr. Storrow took the dagger found at 163 Lombrose
Street from among the exhibits, and passed it to the
witness).
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did you not then testify, in substance, that it was
so much like a weapon you had recently used as a model
in your work that you would not swear it was not the
identical instrument?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Were you not then requested to go to your studio
and get the weapon you had used as a model? And did
you not go, in company with an officer, to search for it?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did you find it?
A. No, sir.
Q. Was there not another weapon produced at your
examination very like yours?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Was not mention also made of the existence of a
similar weapon in the police archives at Washington ?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Do you know of any other weapon like this, besides
the two just mentioned?
A. No, sir.
Q. Could either the weapon in the archives at Wash-
ington or the one produced by a lady at your examina-
tion possibly have been the one which killed James
Moreton on June thirteenth?
A. No, sir. The Washington weapon is still there
and has never left the police archives. The one found
at 163 Lombrose Street was in possession of the authori-
ties at the time when the lady produced a poniard so
nearly like it as to be indistinguishable from it.
Q. If, then, one of these three weapons be the one you
used for a model, and if one of them inflicted the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH , 519
Did Mr. my knowicies ever visit howledge
wounds which killed James Moreton, which one must it
have been?
A. Why—as you put it-it must-it must have been
mine,—that is, it couldn't possibly have been either of
the other two.
This admission created a profound sensation.
Q. And you cannot swear that it was not yours?'
A. No, sir, I cannot.
Q. Did Charles Bertram ever visit your studio?
A. No, sir ;—that is, not to my knowledge.
Q. Did Mr. Henry Gates ever visit it?
A. Not to my knowledge.
Q. Did Mr. Eric Montrose ever visit your studio?
This question fairly electrified the spectators.
A. Why, yes, sir,-often, very often,-in fact he as-
sisted me in the care of it.
Q. Was the weapon you used as a model accessible to
Mr. Montrose between the time when you saw it last at
your rooms and the time when your search proved it to
have disappeared? .
The excited spectators leaned forward as if they were
but one organism in order that no word of the witness
might escape them. Elbert Reiss was very pale and
trembled visibly. It seemed to him as if he were about to
adjust a noose upon the neck of the man who had been to
him more than a brother. He faltered, his voice broke,
—and then he stood mute as if transfixed.
Mr. Storrow repeated the question with insistent em-
phasis. At length the witness replied in an almost
inaudible tone:
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Can you swear that Eric Montrose did not take this
weapon from your studio?
A. I cannot believe
Q. — I'm not asking what you believe, but what you
mignbled visibly. It she neck of the man his voice broke,


522 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
Q. Did you ever hear him make any threat, or utter any
language which could be construed as a threat, in re-
gard to this matter?
The colour left the witness's face, and he hesitated.
A wil soology, ed helple pitie
Q. Will you please repeat, as nearly as possible, the
exact phraseology of this threat.
The witness looked helplessly about him, and he could
not have presented a more pitiable spectacle of absolute
misery had he been swearing away his own life. It was
some little while before he could speak, and then only in
a faltering, tremulous aspirate.
A. As nearly as I—can remember-he said: “If the
law can't reach him, the lawless can,_and—I call you
gentlemen to witness now and here that if James More-
ton perpetrate this outrage-I'll-put him where he
can't repeat it—as sure as my name is-Eric Mont-
rose!”
At this reply many a listener looked knowingly at his
neighbour as if to say, “ Aha! I thought so!”
The defence continued.
Q. Who were the “ gentlemen ” referred to?
A. Mr. George Maitland and myself.
Q. What! Did George Maitland hear that remark?
A. Yes, sir.
Mr. Storrow looked slowly about the room, shaking his
head gravely the while, and then said:
“ Indeed, Mr. Reiss, you surprise me! That will do,
thank you."
Again the State declined to cross-examine. Then, to
the astonishment of every other person in the room,
with the single exception of Mr. Plaisted, Mr. Storrow
said:
“ The defence rests here."
Mr. Walter Brooks, an eminent criminal lawyer who


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 523
had watched the case day by day with great interest,
leaned over and whispered to Osric Shultz.
“ Clever fellows, Plaisted and Storrow," he said.
“ They made no opening speech, so as to keep the
prosecution guessing, and now, you see, they are play-
ing to work in most of their best evidence in rebuttal.
The State is welcome to every card it can see in their
hands."
To this Shultz whispered the following reply:
“ I guess you've struck it about right, Brooks. Stor-
row never was much of a fellow for feeding the op-
position. He keeps his tricks well up his sleeve, and if
the prosecution hasn't prepared its case, they may be
precious sure he won't help them to do it.”
While this whispered dialogue was progressing, Messrs.
Barton and Maitland and Messrs. Plaisted and Stor-
row were holding an animated discussion with the Court.
The spectators would have given considerable to know
what all this was about, but the pleasure was denied
them. Then Mr. Storrow went and whispered some-
thing to Charles Bertram, who nodded his head in the
affirmative as he replied. Mr. Storrow then held a whis-
pered conversation with the Court and the prosecution,
after which all returned to their respective places.
Mr. Maitland then arose and said:
“ Your Honours and Gentlemen of the Jury: Every
nation in the world has, at some time or other, had its
ordeals for the detection of guilt. In India all the sus-
pected members of a household were made to take a
mouthful of rice, upon the assumption that the guilty
one would be unable to swallow it. In England, the
corsnaed, or trial-slice of consecrated bread and cheese,
was used in a similar way, and for the same purpose.
You have read in the English legend how Queen Emma
walked over the red-hot ploughshares, and if you were


524 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
to go to Arabia to-day you would find the ordeal by
red-hot iron recognised by law. I need not call your
attention to the water ordeal, for you are all familiar
with the ducking of old women supposed to be witches,
a survival of a judicial rite forming part of the old
Hindu law-book of Manu.
“ The 'bitter water,' mixed with the dust of the taber-
nacle floor, mentioned in Numbers; the red water of
Guinea’; the African mbundu root, Calabar bean, and
tangena nut have all been used as ordeals to determine
the innocence or guilt of a suspect. In Burmah, suits
are still determined by furnishing each of the contesting
parties with a candle exactly equal in size and both
lighted at the same moment. He whose candle burns
the longest wins his cause.
“I have cited these few cases to show how general has
been the belief in various kinds of ordeals. What is the
explanation of this wide-spread faith?
“There are, in every human organism, certain pro-
cesses which are affected by the emotions, quite inde-
pendent of the will. Just as fear checks the flow of
saliva, so do the inner emotions impress themselves upon
the circulation of the blood. If, now, we can find some
way of observing the changes in the circulation of a
criminal, we shall be able, no matter how calm and indif-
ferent he 'may outwardly appear, accurately to gauge
the condition of his internal emotions. Several instru-
ments may be used for this purpose, among them the
cardiograph, kymograph, hemadynamometer, sphygmo-
graph, sphygmophone and hematachometer.
“ By the use of the sphygmograph M. Voisin exposed
a sham epileptic in Paris by showing that his sphyg-
mogram bore no resemblance to that of a true epileptic
before and after a fit; and Enrico Ferri refers to a case
where the sphygmograph showed that a person accused


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 527
pendent systems of little levers operating these two
minute recording pens, and you have perhaps asked
yourselves why I should need more than one. I will ex-
plain. I have assumed, Gentlemen of the Jury, that
most of you are unfamiliar with sphygmographic
records, and I have, therefore, placed before you a
double instrument in order that you might have, side
by side with the sphygmogram of the accused, that of
a known innocent person, made at precisely the same
moment.
“Let me briefly describe the working of the instru-
ment. This drum is made steadily to revolve by clock-
work. You see about its lower half something which
looks like a screw thread, but which is in fact a coil of
fine piano wire, carefully imbedded in a little groove,
turned in a screw-cutting lathe, in order that its con-
volutions may be kept apart. About the upper end of
the drum is wrapped this record-paper, with its double
ruling for the two records. This occupies the major
portion of the cylinder, because its spiral is coarser, and
is in duplicate. These are the pens,—one resting upon
each record; and these the levers actuating them. You
will note that these levers cause a vibration only in the
direction of the axis of the drum, and you will also ob-
serve that this pointer, attached to the electro-magnet
traversing the piano wire, always perfectly lines with
the recording pens, so that we may always see, when we
reproduce the vocal record, just what each pen was
doing at the precise instant any syllable of that record
was spoken.
“ In this way, Gentlemen of the Jury, I shall be
enabled to put before you a sphygmogram of the ac-
cused, side by side with that of an innocent person, and
both matched by the words which are responsible for
their peculiarities; for, by letting the instrument run a


528 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
few seconds before and after I speak the words selected
for the test, you will, by comparison, be able to as-
certain both the natural personal equation of each sub-
ject, and the actual effect produced thereon by my
utterance.
“Nothing now remains but to select a second subject,
and your first thought most likely will be that it is en-
tirely immaterial who fills this office. This, however, is
not quite the case. Were I to select a deaf-mute, or a
foreigner unacquainted with our language, you will
readily see that much of the value of the test would in-
evitably be lost. If, now, I could find someone who had
absolutely no personal or even humanitarian interest in
this affair,—someone, say, whose emotions were no more
affected by a murder than the normal man would be by
the killing of a mouse,—and were the person to submit
to the test, I should expect you, when I exhibited his
sphygmogram in comparison with that of the accused,
to inform me that I had proved, not that Mr. Bertram's
record indicated any undue excitement on his part, but
rather that the sphygmogram supposed to serve as a
standard evinced a phenomenal apathy on the part of the
person who made it. Such a position would, under those
circumstances, be quite tenable. It behooves us, there-
fore, most carefully to forestall such an eventuality; and,
in order to do this, Gentlemen of the Jury, we must select
someone known by you to have both a normal horror of
murder and a fair amount of interest in this case. In
order that we may, in this test, be not only just but
generous to the defence, we have secured for our second
subject the man of all men in this room who, as one
bereaved by murder, should have the deepest horror
thereof, and the profoundest interest in this case, Mr.
Adrian Canova Moreton !”
At this announcement a great wave of excitement swept


530 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
precisely what he had intended to say, and no one had
failed to notice the almost burning concentration with
which he had watched his subjects while speaking; but
neither the conviction nor the observation gave them the
slightest hint why he had spoken so strangely, and in
such a hesitating manner.
“That will do, gentlemen ; thank you," said Maitland,
as he stopped the mechanism and relieved his subjects of
all connection therewith. “ The experiment, I see, has
been very successful, and I shall prove by it all that I
expected.”
The spectators leaned forward excitedly in order that
they might lose no word of what followed. Their
strained attention, however, was unrewarded, for at this
point the Court took a recess.


532 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
Q. Do you consider this figure indelible?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. You expect to carry this adornment, then, to the
day of your death?
A. Yes, sir. There is no way of removing it.
Q. Among the list of things found in the little closet
at 30 Broad Street was the slip of paper with type
writing upon it, which is numbered “10” in my cata-
logue. The first dozen characters upon this paper are
as follows: et&yi)iy)qe%.
By the body of James Moreton, at 163 Lombrose
Street, was found another slip of paper containing a
cryptogram. This cryptogram has been solved, and by
applying its key to the twelve characters I have just
read, we get the number “ 5883.” Can you tell me the
significance of that number?
A. No, sir.
Q. Did Mr. Bertram ever tell you that he regretted
having had this figure tattooed into his arm?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Did he say anything about attempting to re-
move it?
A. He said he would give a good deal if it were off
of him,-or words to that effect.
Q. Did he tell you he was going to try to rid himself
of it?
A. I do not remember that he did.
Q. Can you swear that he did not?
A. No, sir; I couldn't be certain. He may have told
me and I may have forgotten it.
(Counsel for the State then exhibited a volume entitled
“ Dick's Encyclopedia of Practical Receipts and Pro-
cesses," and passed the same to the witness.)
Q. Did you ever see that book before?
A. Yes, sir. Either this or one very like it.


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 533
Q. Where did you see it?
A. In the room occupied by Mr. Bertram and me in
the Johnston Building.
Q. Did you ever see Mr. Bertram consult it?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Are you familiar with the work?
A. No, sir.
Q. If you will open it you will observe that its receipts
and processes are consecutively numbered from one to
sixty-four hundred and twenty-two, inclusive. Please
turn now to No. 5883 and read its heading.
(The witness did as directed and read as follows: "No.
5883. To Remove Tattoo Marks from the Skin.”)
Thank you. The slip of paper found in the little fire-
proof safe contains, then, does it not, a recipe by which
Mr. Bertram expected to remove the figure tattooed into
his arm?
A. I knew nothing of the existence either of the paper
or of the recipe until I saw them at this trial, and
know, therefore, nothing whatever of Mr. Bertram's
expectations in the matter, further than that he ex-
pressed himself as very anxious to be rid of the tat-
tooing.
Q. Where were you on the night of June 13th?
A. I-I was here--here in Jersey City, part of the
time.
Q. Were you rooming in Jersey City at that time?
A. No, sir.
Q. Was Mr. Bertram?
A. No, sir.
Q. Was not Mr. Bertram with you?
A. I think quite likely—we were together a good deal
about that time.
Q. Don't you know that he was with you, and that you
went out in a boat together?


534 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
This question created a profound sensation. The wit-
ness turned deathly pale and his voice trembled as he
replied:
A. Yes—1—I do know we were together.
Q. And that you went out in a boat together?
(It was some time before the witness could find his
voice.)
A. Wewe went out together.
Q. On the Hudson ?
A. On the Hudson.
Q. In a boat belonging to Michael Riley?
A. In-in Michael Riley's boat.
Q. You rowed out from the shore, turned up the river
a short distance, then proceeded in shore, and took on
board a large bundle?
A. Yes~no—that is—I-I decline to state.
Q. On the ground that your answer would incriminate
yourself?
A. Y—yes, sir.
The spectators were now at a fever heat of excitement.
They had felt sure, but a moment since, that the wit-
ness was about to confess to assisting in sinking James
Moreton's corpse in the Hudson upon the night of his
murder. But now, however, after admitting almost
every other detail, he apparently lacked the courage to
commit himself to the full truth.
Q. Did not that large bundle contain a man's dead
body?
A. L-I decline to answer that.
Q. Will you swear that it did not contain a corpse?
A. N—no, sir. I-I will not swear either way.
Q. Will you swear that Eric Montrose knew the con-
tents of that bundle?
A. No, sir.
(Counsel for the State then passed to the witness the


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 535
copy of The Napier Daily News which had been placed
in evidence during the examination of Mr. Moreton, and
called his attention to the conspicuous personal sur-
rounded by the heavy black border.)
Q. Did you ever see that before this trial?
A. No, sir.
Q. Did not Mr. Bertram have that personal inserted?
A. I do not know that he did.
Q. Do you know that he didn't?
A. No, sir; I do not.
Q. You will please examine this.
(Counsel for State passed to the witness a copy of The
Napier Daily News.)
Compare it, please, with the copy of the same publica-
tion just shown you. Satisfy yourself that the date and
the edition of the two are identical. Note, further, that
there is no variation whatever in the contents of the two,
except in the single particular of this personal. Am I
correct in all this?
A. Yes, sir; so far as I can see.
Q. Do you find the same personal in each copy?
A. No, sir.
Q. How do you account for it?
A. I cannot account for it.
Q. Could Mr. Bertram explain it to us?
A. I do not know.
Q. What do you think?
A. I-well—perhaps he could.
Q. That is all, thank you.
The defence did not cross-examine.
The State then exhibited the two copies of The Napier
Daily News to the jury. That first put in evidence
was marked “ No. 1” and that latter introduced
“ No. 2.” Comparison showed absolute identity
throughout both papers, with the single exception of


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 539
thought of the loss of his father, his brother, and his
mother; of the terrible ordeals of the trial, so replete
with bitter reminiscence; but it never occurred to them
that the beautiful young woman just then approaching
the witness-stand was the sole cause of the shock that
so unnerved him. Had the thought been suggested to
them, the majority would have said to themselves;
“ Adrian Canova Moreton isn't likely to be thinking of
love at the trial of one of his brother's murderers ”-or
words to that effect-and straightway would have de
nied it entertainment. How wide of the mark are ever
prone to fly the swift arrows of human judgment!
The spectators recognised the witness as Miss Marion
Sherwood, the brilliant young dramatic star, and were
themselves much taken aback at hearing her addressed
as a married woman, for the wedding at Madame La
Salle's had been strictly private, and no one had, as yet,
made a confidant of the press.
on the
Erior to shine it
Omitting the usual formalities, Mrs. Reiss's testimony
is as follows:
Q. I have here the weapon with which Mr. Charles
Bertram is alleged to have fatally stabbed Mr. James
Eldredge Moreton on the thirteenth day of last June.
Please examine it closely, and tell me if you ever saw
it prior to said thirteenth day of last June.
(Counsel for the prosecution passes the weapon to the
witness, who examines it with minute care.)
A. I should say it was the identical instrument I for-
merly owned. If so, it was in my possession prior to last
June.
This answer creates much astonishment among all
those who either have not read the particulars of Reiss's
arrest or have forgotten them during the intervening
months. They remember what the defence has elicited


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH 541
the salt scald one sees his tething to it. Thich has
behold, andsive efforte agony is cars yet no. His faces
throw him into a veritable spasm of grief. His sturdy
frame trembles like that of a sobbing child which has
lost the nothing which is everything to it. His face
is hidden and no one sees his tears, yet no one doubts
that the salt scald of agony is falling thick and fast.
His convulsive efforts at self-mastery are painful to
behold, and those whose good breeding amounts to
altruism refrain from watching them, knowing that
they themselves, in like circumstance, would deeply
appreciate a similar kindness. No one guesses, of
course, the real cause of this outburst, or suspects, for
a moment, that it is influenced by any calamities other
than those which the trial, acting like a leaven in the
lump of memory, quickens into such awful vividness.
(The witness returns the weapon to the counsel for
the State, who places it upon the table among the other
exhibits, as he continues the examination.)
Q. Were you present at the studio when Mr. Reiss
and the officer searched for the weapon?
A. Yes, sir.
Q. Was Mr. Montrose there?
A. Not during the search; he came in, however, before
I left.
Q. What was the result of that search?
A. The dagger could not be found; it had-
A horribly inhuman, guttural cry drowns the last
words of the witness's reply as Mr. Moreton springs to
his feet, seizes the dagger from the table and rushes
with maniacal fury at Mrs. Reiss. With cat-like agility
the victim's husband jumps forward and catches the
assailant's arm as the dagger enters the flesh.
With a low cry of fear and pain the woman falls.
The struggle over the weapon is short and terrific, and
when it ends both men are upon the floor. Reiss is
beside himself with rage, while his antagonist is in a
..


552 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
which will be perfectly obvious to you. At the stock-
holders' meeting Moreton intended to create an alter-
cation, and would probably have done so by an unfair
counting of votes had not the White affair offered a
better opportunity. When the lights went out More-
ton stabbed himself.”
“ But, George, that's impossible!” exclaimed the
doctor.
“It's true, nevertheless ! ” retorted his companion, lay-
ing a little slab of cork with a small hole in its centre
upon the table. “ It was a pretty trick, and I'll ex-
plain it to you, but you must never divulge a word of
what I tell you. It might do your fellow-craftsman,
Carew, an incalculable harm,—a harm against which
I fully guaranteed him when he confessed to me one or
two little details of which I was not quite sure.”
“ Indeed, George, you astonish me!” exclaimed the
doctor.
“Now, listen!” said Maitland. “We thought the
Madame had made capital out of Carew's past when,
in reality, it was James Eldredge himself who had per-
formed that pleasant function, and had dragooned the
good doctor into utter subserviency to his own will.
There was a good, generous bit of hypnotism mixed up
with it, too, though to this day Carew has remained
in ignorance of that fact.”
“ But how did Moreton get out of 163 ? " Willard
asked.
“Why, Doc,” George replied, " you surely know that
without my telling you. He did for himself just what
we thought · Charlie Bert' did for him. There was the
trick-cabinet; all he had to do was to use it. In short,
Ned, the most remarkable thing about this whole case
is that almost everything having any criminal sig-
nificance which can be predicated of Charlie Bert'


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 555
personate his brother Adrian, who was named in all his
insurance policies as his beneficiary. It was arranged
that Dr. Carew should break the news to Adrian by
letter,-by wire would have been much too quick,--after
delaying a sufficient time to enable James to get upon the
ground and get things fixed.”
.
"“ Why, what had he to get fixed, George?”
“Good gracious, Doc !” exclaimed his companion,
6 is it posssible that you have not yet perceived that all
Adrian's New Zealand troubles were deliberately planned
by James, and executed by Maoris in his pay?"
“ For heaven's sake, George! You don't mean that
James Moreton secured control of Te Toke, do you?”
Ned gasped.
“ More than that, Doc!” Maitland replied. “There
never was any Te Toke society outside of James
Moreton's fertile imagination. It was all a plan on his
part to terrorise Adrian, and to prevent him from dis-
closing his identity. in a way that would jeopardise
the success of the elaborate fraud James was perpe-
trating. It would have been very inconvenient, to say
the least, had the real Adrian shown up in this city
just as the false Adrian was collecting the insurance
money. To prevent this, James devised the whole Te
Toke swindle, and subjected his brother to the grossest
cruelty, besides disfiguring him for life.”
“ But he had his own face tattooed, George,” said the
doctor.
“ What of that? ” replied the other. “He had little
or no sensibility to pain, and as for his own disfigure-
ment, he meant, as we have seen, to get rid of all that in
good time. He wanted to make sure that Adrian
wouldn't dare come to New York, even under an assumed
name, so he branded him with as little compunction as
a ranchman would exhibit in branding a steer.”


556 THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 18TH
« But I don't see, George, why he published the Te
Toke personal if he wanted to keep Adrian away,"
objected the doctor.
“ You forget, Ned, that his publication was very
limited, consisting of but two copies, one for himself
and one for Tomo, their purpose being to explain how
it happened that he came back to New York after his
supposed solemn oath to the contrary," Maitland replied.
“ It was our publication which undid him and brought
the real Adrian back. He didn't really publish it for
fear Adrian might see it, and, acting upon it, do the
very thing of all things he most dreaded,,so he pub-
lished the watch-this-spot’ ad. instead.
“ As soon as Adrian was safely disposed of, he hurried
back here. Just how he pierced' my New Zealand dis-
guise and learned, moreover, that Tomo was returning
with me, I don't happen to know. He sent the “ cooked
up' personal, I suppose, before leaving, or arranged
to have it sent later. He pretended illness upon Tomo's
first visit in order to prevent the Maori from question-
ing him upon matters which might expose his deception.
One of the cleverest things in this whole masterly fraud
is the way in which James Moreton utterly submerged
his own hateful personality in the lovable character of
his brother Adrian. It was as rare a bit of acting as
I've seen for many a day, and explains what has hereto-
fore always been a great mystery to me, viz., how on
earth he ever succeeded in winning such a woman as
Mrs. Hortense Marie Merriam.”
“ And so Dr. Carew was privy to the whole affair? ”
His companion did not reply directly to his question.
" James Moreton's body, when examined, exhibited
two wounds. That in the back was prepared in advance
by Dr. Carew, and was merely a painted imitation,
assisted by a slight, shallow cut in the flesh. The wound


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 557
TON
in the breast was also very shallow, and was made by
a specially designed, telescoping trick-dagger, the blade
of which, upon release of a secret detent, slipped up-
wardly into the handle to within less than an inch of
its point. This cork-pad here was in Moreton's pocket
just over his heart. He placed the point of the dagger
against it, released the detent, and pressed vigorously.
The weapon pricked through the cork-pad just enough
to make a slight flesh wound, in which condition it was
held upright by the pad and looked for all the world as
if buried to the hilt in the prostrate man's heart. All
that was necessary was to make sure that Dr. Carew,
who knew the dagger's secrets, should extract the
weapon and examine the victim. This was easily
arranged By releasing the blade while removing
the dagger the effect was precisely that of withdrawing
its full length from the wound. You perhaps noticed how
Carew started when you told him you were a doctor
and offered to assist him. He was afraid your pro-
fessional eye would discover the whole clever trick.”
“ But his protest, George, at Moreton's treatment of
White!”
“ Acting—just natural acting,” Maitland replied.
“ You see, the good doctor spoke precisely as he felt,
and—and would have acted had he been free. The senti-
ment itself was perfectly spontaneous and honest, and
was, therefore, extremely convincing.–The vest and
this bit of cork were accidentally left behind, but the
telescope dagger was removed and Romeo's dagger left
in its place.
“At the time, of course, I had not the faintest shadow,
of a doubt that Moreton had actually been murdered,
for which reason this little cork-pad possessed no sig-
nificance whatever for me. The small size of the hole
in the vest ought to have aroused my suspicion, but, I


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH 559
the insurance the assumed character will understand: ne
was all he was playing for; and if his wife had per-
mitted the first will to be administered, it wouldn't have
worried him any. You see, Doc, his mind was alienated,
and his ethical nature perverted. You, of course, know
that insane persons may, outside of their maniacal orbit,
be affected by precisely the same motives, the same hopes
and fears, loves and hatreds, which influence the healthy
mind. James Moreton's master-craving was for crim-
inal excitement. Scarcely second to this was his infatu-
ation for Miss Sherwood, or, to be exact, Miss Alis Ora
Leigh. Incidentally, he wanted to implicate Reiss, so
as to prejudice the artist's suit in the same quarter; to
cast suspicion upon, and to get rid of his wife; to
escape the legitimate results of the Haswell indebted-
ness; to save what money he had ; to get still more from
the insurance companies; and to have yet another op-
portunity, in the assumed character of his brother, to
press his suit with the actress. You will understand, of
course, that all these factors were not considerations
from the start, several of them being mere after in-
centives to a man who needed no further prodding."
“ And Charlie Bert's' jack-knife, George?” asked
the doctor.
“ It wasn't his, Ned. It belonged to Moreton, and
Charlie simply appropriated it after his employer's
supposed murder. After all the knife testimony was in,
I succeeded in finding the fellow who sold it to Moreton.
I tell you what, Doc, after all's said and done, it's the
unique and startling parallelism existing between the
cases of Moreton and Bertram which astonishes me
most of all.—But there! I'm glad it's all over,
Ned, and that it has turned out so well. From the
moment I realised that upon me would devolve the
thankless task of preventing Mrs. Moreton from in-
nocently becoming a bigamist, to the instant you pro-


THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
563
how, only yesterday, she had asked one of Tarore's
friends where Lenore had gone, and had been unable to
elicit any reply to her question other than “No hea!
No hea! really can't or I am sure get a promePe asked me
“ You really can't complain, Lucia, my dear,” laughs
Mrs. Montrose, “ for I am sure whenever you address
Tarore as “Mrs. Moreton' you get a prompt response
from me. Just think of it, my husband here asked me
only the other day, if I were ashamed of the name of
Montrose!”
“ I shall have to take Eric apart and reason with him
in pieces,” said Maitland jocosely, “if that's the way
he's talking to you before your honeymoon is over. If
ten of us can't keep him in better subjection than that,
what would he have been if we hadn't come along? Of
course, the rest of us expect you newly married couples
fully to realise that we took this long trip halfway
around the world not because we needed an outing, or
wished to see New Zealand, but simply for the purpose
of chaperoning turtle doves who were too young to fly
so far alone.”
And so the merry party rambles on, like school chil-
dren at a holiday picnic. Dr. and Mrs. Willard and
Mr. and Mrs. Maitland have been wedded a number of
years, but for all that appearances would indicate to
the contrary, the whole five couples might have been
married yesterday.
The “ odd” woman, Lucia Moreton, Adrian's sister, is,
paradoxically, the most even of them all, her whole
manner being characterised by a sweet and serene con-
tentment,—a high plateau of well-being with no am-
bitious sky-aspiring peaks, and no deep, dark, abysmal
valleys. Between her and Mrs. Reiss there is a love like
unto that existing between mother and daughter.
The generosity of the younger woman,—the only


566
THE MYSTERY OF JUNE 13TH
“Ay, truly! what more but love? ” ejaculates Mait-
land, with fervour. “I give you a toast!” he continues:
“ To the Queen of Hearts; the daughter of Tender-
ness; the mother of Love, and Heaven itself-woman!
May she tarry ever with us, and tightly clasp our
hand as we pass into the long shadow of the Ret-
rospect!"