*2- A
 
 THE DEATH CRY
 
 "Central declared that no one had called."
 
 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Frontispiece by 
 Eleanor Howard 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 ROBERT J. SHORES 
 PUBLISHER
 
 Copyright, 1917, by 
 
 ROBERT J. SHORES, Publisher 
 
 New York
 
 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 2136119
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 Cliapter Page 
 
 I THE EVENING BEFORE 11 
 
 II THE TRAGEDY 36 
 
 III THE INQUEST 45 
 
 IV SUSPICION 67 
 
 V STRAWS IN THE WIND 78 
 
 VI THE ARREST 91 
 
 VII A NEWSPAPER BOMB 102 
 
 VIII N. P.'S SILENCE 114 
 
 IX AT 1:10 129 
 
 X RUENNA 150 
 
 XI THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 159 
 
 XII MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 174 
 
 XIII THE TRIAL 186 
 
 XIV THE TRIAL CONTINUED 211 
 
 XV N. P.'S RETURN 220 
 
 XVI THE IRIS HEDGE *. 230 
 
 XVII THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 241 
 
 XVIII THE MOTIVE . 255
 
 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 
 
 I remember perfectly the conversation I had 
 with the Cuylers the evening of the tragedy, a 
 wonderful June night of fragrance and starlight. 
 An iris hedge separates our lawn from theirs, and, 
 seeing Eloise cutting the blue flowers, I strolled 
 over to chat with her, while N. P. finished the 
 evening paper. I never saw a man so wedded to 
 his paper. The hottest night he sits inside and 
 drips, rather than miss a single paragraph. 
 
 Eloise was full of the party she was giving 
 the next day to celebrate Mariechen's fourth 
 
 birthday. 
 
 11
 
 12 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "The cake came this afternoon," she said hap- 
 pily. "It's a perfect beauty. It has little Kew- 
 pies in frosting perched all round the edge. I 
 know Mariechen will go wild when she sees it. 
 And Mrs. Smith finished her dress this afternoon; 
 she looks like a darling angel in it." 
 
 "She is so pretty," I answered, sympathetically. 
 "Wasn't she clever to combine her father's dark 
 eyes with your golden hair?" 
 
 "I wish she'd taken more than her eyes from 
 him." A little breath of a sigh escaped from 
 Mrs. Cuyler. "She isn't a bit like him in disposi- 
 tion, and I have such a dread of her growing up 
 as timid as I am. You'll have to take us both hi 
 hand, Courtney, and show me how to make her 
 self-reliant like yourself." 
 
 I laughed shortly. The idea of lovely Eloise Cuy-
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 13 
 
 ler wishing her only child to be like me rather 
 than like her own exquisite self was absurd. 
 
 "Her father probably wouldn't approve of such 
 a procedure," I was saying, when Dr. Cuyler him- 
 self came out to join us, his cigarette glowing in 
 the dusk. 
 
 "Of what wouldn't I approve?" he inquired. 
 "Certainly not of engaging Kronig's orchestra to 
 play to-morrow. I believe that's the only frill 
 
 ' ' r ''-* ! ' WH* 
 
 we've neglected for the kiddie's ball; but I tell 
 Eloise we have to reserve something for the 
 debut." 
 
 Though he sometimes affected disapproval of 
 his wife's open adoration of their child, as far as 
 I could see he was every bit as bad himself. And 
 Mariechen as she had gradually evolved from 
 the Mary Katherine which combined the names
 
 14 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 of both grandmothers is certainly an adorable 
 
 baby. 
 
 "Don't pay any attention to him, Courtney," 
 
 Eloise retorted gayly. "He spoils her far more 
 than I do. I wish you could see the toys he's 
 bought for her to-morrow a beautiful collie pup 
 besides. But you haven't observed the lovely 
 thing he's given me." She held out her arm, and I 
 noticed for the first tune a new ornament upon it, 
 a wonderful bracelet of sapphires and diamonds 
 set in the new white gold. "Isn't it beautiful? I 
 had to scold him a little for being so extravagant, 
 but I really am mad about it." 
 
 "To-morrow isn't your birthday, too, by any 
 chance?" I asked, admiring as I so often did, with 
 a little bit of secret envy, the lovely curve of her 
 arm as well as the sparkling jewels upon it.
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 15 
 
 "Oh, no! But you know every year since Ma- 
 riechen was born Vincent has given me a present 
 on the anniversary. Isn't it a dear thing for him 
 to do?" 
 
 I glanced casually at Dr. Cuyler's clear profile 
 as I assented. It was a dear thing for him to do, 
 I thought, and exactly in keeping with his tender, 
 intense nature. I had known Vincent Cuyler in 
 his bachelor days and before he had "arrived", for 
 his emergence into the brilliant fashionable phy- 
 sician began about the tune of his marriage. Eloise 
 I had known only since her marriage and then just 
 in a casual way up until a year ago when the Cuy- 
 lers bought the place next to us. But it was plain 
 from the beginning that she was the one woman 
 in the world for him and as I knew her more inti- 
 mately I came to take a vicarious satisfaction in
 
 16 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 their happiness. In spite of all the bosh about 
 soul mates and affinities, one does occasionally see 
 two shining personalities whom God hath joined 
 together, even in a perverse old world like this. 
 
 But I am rambling away from my subject and 
 on a fruitless trail for my own very positive opin- 
 ion as to the felicity of the Cuyler's married life 
 didn't amount to a row of pins at the tune it was 
 needed. So to return to facts. 
 
 Darkness had fallen upon us as we talked and 
 just here I distinctly remember Dr. Cuyler's ex- 
 claiming: 
 
 "Eloise, are you getting chilly? I thought I 
 felt you shiver." He touched the sheer organdy 
 of her frock inquiringly. 'Tour sleeve feels damp. 
 I'll go into the house and get you a wrap. That 
 dress you have on is as flimsy as a surgical gauze."
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 17 
 
 "Oh, no," she detained him laughingly. "I'm 
 not cold, dear, really I'm not. I don't know what 
 made me shiver. Somebody must have stepped on 
 my grave, I guess." 
 
 "Why don't you come up and sit on our porch?" 
 I suggested. "N. P. won't be through with his pa- 
 per for another hour and I'm pining for good so- 
 ciety." 
 
 Dr. Cuyler was ready to accept my invitation, 
 but Eloise hesitated over it. 
 
 "There are several things I still have to do for 
 tomorrow packages to tie up, you know. And 
 I'm a little tired anyway; so I think I'd better go 
 in." Then, gracious as always, she added to the 
 Doctor. "You go and sit with Courtney awhile. 
 I know you'll enjoy a visit with her." 
 
 It was her husband's turn to hesitate. "I did
 
 18 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 want to talk with Mrs. Temple tonight. Several 
 things have come up about the Detention Home. 
 Perhaps I will go over for a half an hour. Sure 
 you won't mind, Sweet?" 
 
 "No, indeed. I'd love to have you, really I 
 would. Go right along." Her hand caressed his 
 coat sleeve reassuringly. "Goodnight, Courtney. 
 Don't forget to come over early tomorrow, please. 
 I'm counting so much on your helping me, es- 
 pecially with the little boys." 
 
 Fair and sweet, she moved across the grass, a 
 wraithlike figure with her lovely hair and bare 
 white throat and arms gleaming through the dark. 
 Unconsciously both her husband and I followed 
 her with eyes of admiration. If I had known 
 then but the Doctor was speaking, 
 
 "A 'wonderful clear night of stars', isn't it?"
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 19 
 
 he quoted, with an upward glance at the flashing 
 golden galaxy. "It's a sin to sit under a roof." 
 
 "Let's don't do it then," I jumped quickly with 
 his mood. 
 
 The Cuyler's yard is a bit lower than ours and 
 we have had a couple of steps built in the shallow 
 terrace as a short cut between the two lawns. I 
 sat down on the top step and invited him to join 
 me. 
 
 "Sure it won't be too damp for you?" he asked 
 courteously. 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. "Hardly. I'm as 
 tough as a pine knot, you know." 
 
 "That's what your athletics do for you." His 
 hand touched my warm arm as he folded himself 
 up on the lower step. "Superb circulation." It 
 was the Doctor, not the man who spoke. "I waa
 
 20 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 going to offer you my coat but apparently you 
 don't need it. I wish you could coax Eloise out to 
 golf with you," he went on. "She doesn't get as 
 much exercise as she should. Her garden is about 
 the only interest she has that keeps her out in the 
 open." 
 
 "Eloise isn't the type for athletics. You might 
 as easily imagine the Blessed Damozel in sport 
 clothes." 
 
 "Isn't that just like a woman?" he derided my 
 remark. "I'm not thinking of her appearance, but 
 of her health. Besides," he added with naivete 
 that was charming, "I think she's beautiful in any- 
 thing she wears! However " and he plunged in- 
 to the problem in the Detention Home that was 
 pressing on him at the moment. 
 
 Hand in hand with his fashionable practice Dr,
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 21 
 
 Cuyler kept up a vast amount of charitable work. 
 Eloise always furthered him in this, mothering the 
 strays, befriending the Magdalines and playing 
 Lady Bountiful to all the poor old men and wo- 
 men her husband would let her know about. He 
 had to draw the line somewhere, he used to say, for 
 Eloise never would, and her heart and purse were 
 continually being wrung by some poor creature in 
 distress. The impish little rascals in the Deten- 
 tion Home were about the only ones her loving 
 charity could not compass. Bad boys, she regret- 
 fully admitted, were beyond her ken. And this is 
 where I came in strong. I've always had an im- 
 mense amount of interest and sympathy for little 
 gutter snipes and somehow those troublesome pro- 
 teges of Dr. Cuyler's took to me and I to them. 
 I think it was a combination of the Blue Jay,
 
 22 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 my fast blue roadster, "V. V.", the white bull ter- 
 rier that always rides along, and the fact that I 
 can pitch ball and pitch straight, that first inclined 
 their calloused young hearts toward me. Any- 
 how, whenever they are particularly obstreperous 
 and whenever there is a row on between them and 
 the matron, or trouble with the trustees, Dr. Cuy- 
 ler invariably calls on me to go and mix up in it. 
 I'm explaining all this now in order that it may 
 be understood later how unjust were the news- 
 paper insinuations. 
 
 It was a particularly poignant situation that he 
 laid before me that night but though we were both 
 tremendously interested in the topic, neither of us 
 lost sight of the time, and I know that we did 
 not sit out there more than three quarters of an 
 hour. Dr. Cuyler had Eloise on his mind for she
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 23 
 
 was alone in the house except for Mariechen ; and 
 in the light that streamed through the open 
 French windows of our library I could see from 
 the sheets of paper littered around him that N. P. 
 was nearing the close of his evening stunt. 
 
 He was on the last page when I went into the 
 house to join him, his big bulk stodged into a 
 leather chair. He had all the lights blazing and 
 the room was like a furnace, but though his face 
 was terribly red and moist he looked up to greet 
 me with his usual easy smile. 
 
 "Been having a chat with the Cuylers?" he in- 
 quired comfortably. There is nothing that gives 
 N. P. quite such a satisfied feeling as to know that 
 I am enjoying myself without his being directly 
 responsible for my pleasure. "Why didn't they 
 come in?"
 
 24 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Oh, Eloise is getting ready for the party and 
 she had some last things to do. Mercy, N. P., it's 
 hot in here! I don't see how you stand it. Come 
 out on the porch and cool off before you have a 
 stroke of apoplexy." 
 
 "It is warm," he conceded mildly as though it 
 hadn't occurred to him before. "I was absorbed in 
 this Mexican business and I didn't seem to no- 
 tice. Whew! I'm thirsty. Do you suppose that 
 darky has left any beer on the ice?" 
 
 "That darky," America Parker, the black auto- 
 crat who has kept house for "Mr. Nat" since his 
 bachelor days and who rules our household with a 
 rod of iron, makes no distinction between meum 
 and teum in the kitchen, so I never know how 
 much of what I put there I may count on for my 
 own.
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 25 
 
 But I must be very exact from now on as to the 
 incidents that led up to the discovery of that aw- 
 ful night. We had found a couple of bottles on 
 the ice and N. P. was just applying the cork- 
 screw when we were startled by a woman's scream, 
 a terrible piercing scream that rose and wavered 
 and fell and rose again in a kind of shuddering 
 moan. 
 
 "For the Lord's sake!" 
 
 N. P. is about as easy to excite as the Rock of 
 Gibraltar, but that ghastly scream stirred even 
 him. He laid the corkscrew down and stared at 
 me. 
 
 "Something terrible has happened," I gasped 
 and started to my feet. "That was Eloise' voice ! 
 Come on, N. P." 
 
 We hurried out of the house with one accord
 
 26 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 and started toward the Cuylers'. They were il- 
 luminated upstairs and down but there was no 
 sign of any disturbance over there. No second 
 harrowing scream followed the first. Nothing 
 broke the silence of our quiet neighborhood but 
 the lively music of some frogs in the park across 
 the street. Out in the peaceful night N. P. was in- 
 clined to doubt the evidence of our ears. 
 
 "Seems perfectly quiet over there," he paused 
 to remark. "I guess there's nothing much the mat- 
 ter after all. Maybe Mrs. Cuyler had the night- 
 mare." 
 
 We waited uncertainly for a few minutes but I 
 could not feel satisfied to go hi without knowing 
 that everything was all right at the Cuylers'. 
 
 "Let's just go over and inquire, anyway," I sug- 
 gested. "We don't have to go in, you know, and 
 I don't believe they've gone to bed."
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 27 
 
 "Well, wait till I light my pipe," N. P. said re- 
 signedly. His interest in the scream had died 
 away with his own explanation of it. He fiddled 
 around with one match after another, but finally 
 I got him started. As we crossed the lawn the 
 doctor himself appeared upon his porch. 
 
 "Oh, what was the matter?" I cried to him. 
 "Has anything happened to Eloise?" 
 
 Dr. Cuyler stepped down to speak to us, and in 
 the glare of the porch light his face had a strained, 
 almost an embarrassed look. 
 
 "You heard her scream?" he inquired. "I was 
 afraid you would and that you'd think we'd caught 
 a burglar, so I came out to reassure you. There's 
 nothing wrong, only Eloise had a bad fright, and 
 it's shaken her up a bit." 
 
 "What in the world?"
 
 28 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 '. 
 
 "Only a harmless snake; but you know, Mrs. 
 Temple, how the sight of one always terrifies her. 
 This one got into the house in some mysterious 
 fashion and Eloise discovered it crawling out from 
 under the davenport. When she looked down and 
 saw it wriggling so near her foot she nearly had 
 hysterics. She was pretty well tired out tonight, 
 anyway," this last addressed apologeticaly to my 
 husband. 
 
 "No wonder she screamed," I said with empha- 
 sis, for men are so superior about these things. 
 "She has a perfect horror of snakes, I know. Did 
 you kill it? Where do you suppose it came from?" 
 
 "Probably from that vacant lot next door. I've 
 been trying all summer to get the owner to cut 
 those weeds. Yes, I killed it and threw it back in- 
 to the lot. That place is a regular nuisance. I'll
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 29 
 
 see old Timmons about it in the morning. It's 
 lucky for us you're our only near neighbors, or 
 we'd have had a swarm of excited females about 
 our ears by now. Sorry we kicked up such a dis- 
 turbance." 
 
 "I'm sorry Mrs. Cuyler's had such a shock to her 
 nerves," my husband said in his kindest voice. 
 "Sure there's nothing we can do for her?" 
 
 "Nothing, thank you. I've given her a dose of 
 veronal and she's lying on the couch. I'll put her 
 to bed in a few minutes and she'll be all right after 
 a night's rest. Awfully kind of you to come over 
 though." 
 
 As I write this I'm taxing my mind to see if I 
 had detected the slightest hint in his manner of 
 anything wrong. For the life of me I can't re- 
 member anything. There was regret for his wife's
 
 30 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 fright, perhaps a slight trace of annoyance at the 
 commotion they had caused. But other than that 
 well, I never was renowned for my perceptivity, 
 and blessed old N. P.'s mind is a logical rather 
 than an intuitive one. 
 
 We said goodnight and returned to our inter- 
 rupted crackers and beer. About an hour later,, 
 I should imagine it was, at any rate I was in 
 bed and nearly asleep and N. P. was fussing 
 with his studs in his clean shirt for the morning, 
 we heard the doctor's car being run out of the 
 garage, and then set off at a lively clip up the 
 street. 
 
 "A call, I suppose," N. P. observed from his 
 place at the chiffonier. "Glad I'm not a doctor. 
 Pretty tough after a hard day's work to be routed 
 out at this time of night to ease up some old
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 31 
 
 lady's asthma or to help a new voter into the 
 world." 
 
 "It's hard on Eloise, too," I murmured sleepily. 
 "She's not in very good condition to be left alone 
 after the shock she had this evening. I wonder 
 if I hadn't better call her up and see if she'd like 
 me to stay with her until after the doctor gets 
 back." 
 
 "Where are the maids?" 
 
 "Gone to a sister's wedding, or something." 
 
 "Both of them? I thought the reason Cuyler 
 wasn't willing to have that married couple sleep 
 in the garage was because he wanted Mrs. Cuyler 
 always to have someone in the house with her 
 for just such occasions." 
 
 "He did, but you know Eloise." We both 
 laughed indulgently. "She'd sacrifice herself any
 
 32 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 time to make somebody else happy. And this was 
 a very special affair, I believe fried chicken and 
 a lace veil and a wedding cake." 
 
 "Oh, well, I guess they'd call up if they wanted 
 us. Mrs. Cuyler's probably asleep, and the tele- 
 phone might startle her." N. P. dismissed the 
 subject easily, and as I was half asleep I yielded 
 to his viewpoint. Bitterly did I repent my deci- 
 sion later! Oh, for foresight instead of hind- 
 sight! 
 
 Some time in the night I was awakened by the 
 shrill, persistent sound of the telephone. N. P. 
 was sleeping heavily, and as if in obedience to 
 some imperative demand I stumbled out of bed, 
 instead of awakening him as I usually do when 
 the phone rings at night, and ran to answer it 
 myself. The sound of Mr. Cuyler's voice, loud
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 33 
 
 and shaken with emition, roused me with a ven- 
 geance. 
 
 "Mrs. Temple? Is your husband there?" he 
 called. "This is Cuyler. Tell him to come over 
 at once, for God's sake!" and hung up the receiver 
 before I could answer a word. 
 
 I went back and shook N. P. into conscious- 
 ness. 
 
 "Hurry! Hurry!" I implored him frantically. 
 "There is something terribly wrong over at the 
 Cuylers'. The doctor has just called up and asked 
 for you to come over at once." 
 
 I was struggling into kimona and slippers as I 
 spoke, and by the tune N. P. was sufficiently clad 
 I was ready too. 
 
 I clutched his arm, and with an ominous dread 
 at our hearts we raced across the lawn. The front
 
 34 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 door was unlocked, and there was a light burning 
 in the hall, but no one was downstairs. From 
 above I could hear a curious gasping sound. It 
 ceased, and everything was silent. N. P. halted 
 at the foot of the stairs and looked up frown- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Courtney, you better wait here. I'll go up 
 first and see." 
 
 I usually do as N . P. says when he speaks like 
 that; but Eloise's hysterical scream over the snake 
 had stirred me up a bit, and some unreasonable 
 dread for her clutched at my heart, so I could not 
 lag behind. 
 
 We went up the steps abreast, and just as we 
 reached the top that strangling moan came again. 
 It seemed to issue from the front bedroom, which 
 belonged to Eloise, and we turned in that direc-
 
 THE EVENING BEFORE 35 
 
 tion. Just outside the door N. P. tripped on a 
 hanging shoelace, so it was I who turned the knob 
 and looked in upon that tragedy.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE TRAGEDY 
 
 In thinking it out afterwards, it seemed to me 
 that I could have stood the horror better if it had 
 not happened in Eloise's own blue boudoir; that it 
 would have been a degree less frightful in any 
 other room in the house. But to stumble upon 
 a sight so revolting in that dainty place of ivory 
 woodwork and furniture, of soft blue draperies 
 and rugs, where even the filmy neglige* across the 
 chaise longue breathed of its beautiful owner 
 Ugh! my brain curdles at the recollection. 
 
 In the intimacy of that feminine atmosphere 
 Dr. Cuyler's big frame loomed dark and virile. He 
 
 36
 
 THE TRAGEDY 37 
 
 was leaning against the wall, his hands clenched 
 at his sides, his eyes riveted to the bed. Even 
 as I entered, there burst from his lips that strange 
 choking groan I had heard before. I followed 
 the direction of his wild gaze Eloise, Eloise! 
 Even yet I can scarcely believe it was you, dear, 
 that I saw! 
 
 She lay across the edge of the bed, her feet 
 resting upon the floor. She was in her nightgown, 
 and the lacy garment was torn and stained with 
 blood. I fought down a wild desire to shriek. 
 There were bruises on her delicate throat and 
 shoulder; the bright veil of her hair was clotted 
 with blood the whole left side of her head had 
 
 been crushed in. 
 
 * * * 
 
 I don't know how I long I stood there staring,
 
 38 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 watching the slow drip, drip of the red stream that 
 flowed sluggishly down the white counterpane. 
 
 It was N. P.'s hand on my arm that roused 
 me at last. 
 
 "Don't, Courtney. Don't look at her! Doctor, 
 for God's sake! Why don't you do something?" 
 
 He took a step toward the bed, as though to 
 lift the inert figure lying there. The doctor was 
 upon him with one spring. 
 
 "Don't touch her!" he commanded. "There's 
 nothing you can do or I can do. She's dead 
 quite dead. Don't you suppose I made sure of 
 that before I called you? She'd dead, dead " 
 his voice broke. 
 
 It was obvious that life had indeed left that 
 beautiful body. N. P. suddenly revised his first in- 
 clination. Still keeping his hold on me, he linked
 
 THE TRAGEDY 39 
 
 his other arm in Dr. Cuyler's and led us both to- 
 ward the door. 
 
 "I'll call for help," he said. "Better wait out- 
 side while I do it." 
 
 My gaze clung to the room. It was not much 
 disordered, but a chair was overturned, and I 
 noticed a clump of iris lying in some water on 
 the floor. Radiant with life, Eloise had held some 
 of those same heavenly blue flowers in her hands 
 as I talked with her a few hours ago, and now ! 
 
 "Wait a minute, N. P.," I urged him at the 
 door. "I can't go and leave her like this. Surely 
 there must be something I can do for her." 
 
 N. P. shoved me gently into the hall and closed 
 the door behind us. 
 
 "I'm going to call Dr. Penrose and the police. 
 Stay here while I do it."
 
 40 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 I waited in the silent, dimlit hall, my heart 
 pounding furiously against my ribs. I heard my 
 husband call the different numbers in quick suc- 
 cession. Presently he tiptoed downstairs to admit 
 someone. There was the sound of low voices and 
 the clanging of the ambulance away down the 
 street. 
 
 As the men began to ascend the stairs I beat 
 a hasty retreat into Mariechen's pink and white 
 nest across the hall. Oddly enough, this was the 
 first time the thought of her had occurred to any 
 of us. She was fast asleep and did not waken 
 when I bent over her. She was sprawled across her 
 litle bed hi the blessed, abandoned sleep of child- 
 hood, oblivious to all that had transpired. A bat- 
 tered elephant reposed close to her curly head; 
 one dimpled hand clutched a weather-beaten 
 Teddy bear.
 
 THE TRAGEDY 41 
 
 She had kicked the sheet entirely off, and the 
 cool night air was blowing straight across her. I 
 stooped to tuck her in, and as I recalled how 
 often I had seen her tender mother bending over 
 the same task, the iron band around my heart 
 relaxed, and to my own great surprise, I burst into 
 wild sobs. 
 
 Mariechen awoke at once with a frightened 
 baby wail, and I reproached myself for my lack 
 of self-control. By the time I had hushed her to 
 sleep again, the house was astir with many people 
 coming and going hurriedly, but with lowered, 
 shocked voices. N. P. came in soon after that, 
 and advised me to go home and take Mariechen 
 with me. 
 
 "There is nothing you can do here. She is 
 beyond help, as Dr. Cuyler said, and nothing can
 
 * 
 
 42 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 be touched until the coroner comes. I'll carry 
 the child over for you, and then I'll stay with the 
 doctor till morning." 
 
 "What have you found out?" I asked anxiously. 
 
 "Absolutely nothing," N. P. replied, with a 
 stern, sober face. "It is all wrapped in mystery. 
 Cuyler came home from his call and found what 
 you saw. He's almost in a collapse, and I haven't 
 talked with him much. Dr. Penrose has him in 
 charge at present. Hurry, Courtney. I want to 
 take you away from here." 
 
 I wrapped Mariechen in a blanket and put her 
 in N. P.'s arms. We made our way down the 
 back stairs and out at the side door. She did 
 not waken again until I had her settled in my 
 own bed, and then only to call for "Muwer" in 
 a sleepy voice.
 
 I 
 
 THE TRAGEDY 43 
 
 "Yes, precious. You're all right now with Auntie 
 Court. Shut your eyes and go to sleep." 
 
 N. P. had carried her upstairs for me, but he 
 was in a hurry to be back at the Cuylers'. I 
 caught him by the tail of his coat just as he was 
 tiptoeing out of the room. 
 
 "Wait a minute," I whispered. "Oh, N. P., I 
 can't bear to have you back over there." 
 
 It was a curious thing that while I was at the 
 Cuylers' no fear had touched me only a dumb 
 horror of that which had happened to my friend. 
 But now I shuddered at the thought of my hus- 
 band going back to that tragic house. 
 
 "Nonsense, Courtney," he began, but at the 
 sight of my face in the lighted hall he instantly 
 changed his tone. 
 
 "Why, child, you needn't be the least afraid.
 
 44 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 There's no danger over there now. The brute, 
 whoever it was, is as far away by this time as his 
 heels will carry him." 
 
 He patted my shoulder consolingly, and I was 
 half ashamed of my anxiety. But if I had known 
 then what I was to know later, no amount of 
 argument would have lulled my fears to rest. 
 
 "If you feel nervous you'd better have America 
 down here with you until I get back." 
 
 He went into the back hall and called up lustily 
 to the third floor. America usually sleeps like 
 a log. I don't think the trump of Gabriel would 
 awaken her, but "Mr. Nat's" stentorian "Hi there, 
 America!" always does. He waited until he heard 
 her creaking down the stairs, then he kissed me 
 and departed, leaving me to horrible recollections 
 for the rest of the night.
 
 CHAPTER HI 
 
 THE INQUEST 
 
 The sun was already up, and birds were singing 
 ecstatically when my husband came back home. 
 In the radiant morning light his face looked drawn 
 and grey, and his grim expression made the sun- 
 shine seem a travesty. I'd been watching for him 
 to come across the lawn and I was down at the 
 door to meet him. 
 
 "Have you come home to stay?" I asked. "And 
 wouldn't you like some breakfast?" 
 
 He assented wearily. Without asking any fur- 
 ther questions I led him into the dining room. 
 One thing I've learned in the nine years of my 
 
 45
 
 46 THE DETTH CRY 
 
 married life and I know my lesson perfectly I 
 never bother N. P. with questions when he is 
 hungry or tired or worried. 
 
 By the time he had had fruit and cereal and 
 a second cup of coffee his pleasant mouth had 
 relaxed into its natural lines, and he began to look 
 a little more like himself. 
 
 "Feeling better?" I inquired. 
 
 "George! I feel as if I'd waked up from a 
 nightmare," he answered. "To come to all this," 
 he motioned around the sunny dining room, "and 
 to see you at the table just the same " his 
 face clouded again. "Poor Cuyler! It might 
 have been my wife instead of his." 
 
 "How is he?" I plunged eagerly into the open- 
 ing he gave me. 
 
 "Like a man in a trance. You never saw any-
 
 THE INQUEST 47 
 
 thing so pitiable. It's natural, of course. But 
 it makes him seem unnatural, somehow." N. P. 
 struggled inarticulately to convey his meaning, 
 but abandoned it as a bad job. 
 
 "The funeral arrangements can't be made until 
 we hear from Mrs. Cuyler's mother. I've sent her a 
 succession of telegrams, breaking the news, and we 
 ought to have an answer soon," he went on more 
 coherently, finding himself on firmer ground. "The 
 police have the rest in charge. Cuyler's going to 
 offer a reward for the apprehension of the mur- 
 derer. We haven't decided on the amount yet. 
 I told him I'd think it over and let him know 
 later. Poor old chap ; he seems to rely on me for 
 everything." 
 
 Dozens of questions came tripping to my lips,
 
 48 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 and we fell into a prolonged discussion of the af- 
 fair. 
 
 "There'll be an inquest, you know," N. P. in- 
 formed me, "this afternoon at three o'clock; and 
 you and I will both have to testify." 
 
 It had an appalling sound to me. I dreaded it 
 at the tune, but as I look back at it now, after all 
 I've been through, a coroner's inquest seems a 
 comparatively simple matter. 
 
 I can't stop to speak of those ghastly hours I 
 put in at the Cuylers' that morning. Somebody 
 had to take the house in charge, and it was N. P.'s 
 own suggestion that I go over and do what I could. 
 There were older women, of course, and just as 
 intimate friends of the Cuylers, who would have 
 been glad to show their sympathy in that way, but 
 I was right there next door. It seemed so obvi-
 
 I 
 
 THE INQUEST 49 
 
 ously "up to me" that it is hard to realize even 
 yet that gossip could have made capital out of 
 my friendly ministrations. 
 
 The colored servants were in a panic and had 
 to be set to work. There were innumerable in- 
 quiries at the door and at the telephone to be 
 answered. I only saw the doctor for a few minutes 
 when I carried a tray of breakfast to him. He 
 kept himself immured upstairs, but I coaxed him 
 out on the upper verandah long enough to drink 
 a cup of coffee. 
 
 A telegram came from his mother-in-law, Mrs. 
 Wilding, while I was out there, and he turned 
 it over to me, asking that N. P. make the funeral 
 arrangements for the following afternoon. I felt 
 dismissed, and yet I couldn't bear to leave him 
 there alone. I made some tentative suggestions
 
 50 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 as to his seeing Mariechen, but he demurred very 
 positively. 
 
 "I cannot be away from here, and I do not 
 want her brought back to the house. If you will 
 keep her with you for the present it will be a 
 great kindness." 
 
 Of course I assured him of my willingness to do 
 so. We talked of the child a moment, and I was 
 just about to go when Dr. Cuyler surprised me 
 with a question. 
 
 "Will you come and see her a moment?" I knew 
 that he referred to Eloise. Remembering the night 
 before, I could barely repress a shudder at the 
 thought of entering that room again. Afterwards 
 I was glad that I had gone. 
 
 The coroner's visit concluded, skilled hands had 
 taken the place in charge, and there was nothing
 
 THE INQUEST 51 
 
 in the blue boudoir now to shock the sense. The 
 shades were only partly drawn, and the pleasant 
 subdued light filtered through the open windows. 
 Someone had replaced the iris in a slender vase. 
 Their sweet, insistent fragrance permeated the air. 
 The room looked just as I had seen it many times 
 except for the white, still figure on the couch. 
 They had swathed the upper part of her head with 
 tulle, I observed with gratitude, and her face was 
 as beautiful and natural as if she were just asleep. 
 She looked like some serene, lovely statue, and I 
 wondered, as I looked at her with a great lump 
 swelling in my throat, how anyone could have 
 wished to harm her, so fair, so gentle, so sweet. 
 Dr. Cuyler stood beside me in silence. Only when 
 I stooped down to kiss the soft curve of her throat 
 I heard the swift intake of his breath.
 
 52 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Thank you, Mrs. Temple," he said in a low 
 voice, as I turned with tear-blinded eyes to leave 
 the room. "You have made her seem almost her- 
 self to me again." 
 
 I parted with him at the door and did not see 
 hun again until the inquest was held that after- 
 noon. It was not to be until three o'clock, so I 
 had tune to go back home and arrange my house- 
 hold affairs. N. P. came to luncheon, and later 
 he escorted me again to the house on the other 
 side of the hedge. 
 
 The inquest was to be held in the library, and 
 the coroner and his jury and several of the neigh- 
 bors were already there when we arrived. The 
 florist's wagon had just driven away, and the 
 house was perfumed with heliotrope and roses. A 
 fresh sheaf of Eloise's iris had been brought in
 
 THE INQUEST 53 
 
 from the garden and lay in a cerulean heap on the 
 hall table. The doctor was not down, but when 
 everyone else had arrived, the coroner sent a 
 message upstairs requesting Dr. Cuyler's pres- 
 ence. He came in, looking neither to the right nor 
 to the left, and took the chair next to my hus- 
 band. N. P. held out a sympathetic hand, but 
 the doctor did not see it. N. P. thrust it into his 
 pocket and looked about him with what he be- 
 lieved to be an air of unconcern. 
 
 The coroner, a man named Beeman, rose and 
 gave a nervous explanation of the purpose and 
 method of conducting an inquest. He was twist- 
 ing his watch-chain agitatedly as he talked, and he 
 spoke in so low a voice that I heard him with 
 difficulty across the room. But as he began the
 
 54 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 examination of witnesses he regained his com- 
 posure, and things moved forward briskly. 
 
 Dr. Cuyler was the first witness called. His 
 pallor was startling, and his eyes looked like burnt- 
 out coals. In a lifeless voice he related all he 
 knew of the night's tragedy. 
 
 "I was called to see a patient about twelve 
 o'clock. I left my wife sleeping under the effects 
 of a dose of veronal which I had given her an 
 hour before. She had had a bit of a fright and 
 was nervous. I was gone an hour, perhaps longer. 
 I did not notice the time when I left my patient, 
 but it was one o'clock when I stopped in a drug 
 store to leave a prescription on my way home. 
 I was in the drug store about fifteen minutes, and 
 it may have been half-past-one when I arrived 
 home. I put my machine in the garage and let
 
 THE INQUEST 55 
 
 myself in with my night key at the front door. 
 The light in the hall a two-candle power bulb we 
 use when I am out was burning as I had left it. 
 
 "The house was perfectly silent as I entered, 
 although as I passed up the stairs I fancied I 
 heard the squeak of the swinging door between 
 the dining-room and the butler's pantry. I list- 
 ened a moment, but decided that it was the draft 
 from the open windows which made the door 
 move slightly. I went on to my wife's room and 
 noticed that her door was closed. I wondered at 
 this a little, for it always stands open at night. 
 I did not stop to speculate concerning it, but 
 turned the knob and entered the room. You know 
 what I saw." A tremor passed over his face, but 
 he went on in the same monotonous tone. 
 
 "I stood looking at my wife for a second a
 
 56 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 minute I don't know just how long I did stand 
 there. Finally I approached the bed and laid my 
 hand on her heart, though I had known the min- 
 ute I saw her that life was extinct. She had been 
 dead about fifteen minutes, I should say. As soon 
 as I was quite convinced of that fact, I tele- 
 phoned our next-door neighbor. Mrs. Temple 
 answered the phone, I think, and they both came 
 over at once. I believe I've told you all I know 
 that has any bearing on the case. Whatever ques- 
 tions you wish to ask I will answer if I can." 
 
 There was a full minute's silence when the tone- 
 less voice ceased and the doctor sat down. The 
 horror of that awful discovery lay dark upon us 
 all. The coroner cleared his throat apologetically 
 and began: 
 
 "It seems necessary to ask you some questions,
 
 THE INQUEST 57 
 
 Doctor, but I will be as brief as I can. What was 
 the cause of your wife's fright earlier in the even- 
 ing?" 
 
 Dr. Cuyler explained the episode of the snake. I 
 thought the faces of the jury were tinged with a 
 slight incredulity as they listened. To their mas- 
 culine minds it verged upon the ridiculous that 
 any woman should be so overcome at the sight of a 
 harmless garter snake she required a sleeping 
 draught to quiet her. 
 
 "What did you do with the snake after you'd 
 killed it?" 
 
 The passion for detail which is ever present in 
 a narrow mind prompted the juror's question. 
 
 "I threw it into the weeds in the vacant lot." 
 The juror nodded, satisfied. 
 
 "Have you missed anything of value since the
 
 58 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 murder? Can you assign robbery as the motive?" 
 It was the coroner who spoke. 
 
 "A sapphire bracelet I had given her the even- 
 ing before last evening, is gone. Nothing down- 
 stairs seems to have been touched." 
 
 "Have you examined her personal effects? Have 
 you looked through her dresser drawers?" 
 
 "Yes. There is nothing else missing." 
 
 "Hm! But of course the robber, if there was 
 a robber, may have been frightened away before 
 he finished his search. Was the bracelet a valuable 
 one?" 
 
 "Yes, it was rather valuable. I forgot to tell 
 you that there is also a vase missing from the 
 room." 
 
 "Indeed. Will you describe it?" 
 
 "I will try, although I have never examined it
 
 THE INQUEST 59 
 
 very closely," the doctor said. "It was one of our 
 wedding gifts, and my wife kept it always filled 
 with flowers. It was of bronze, with a jug-like 
 base and a slender stem. It stood about twelve 
 inches high, I imagine." 
 
 "Did it possess a financial value?" 
 
 "As to that I cannot say. I'm no judge of 
 curios. To me it was a vase and nothing more. It 
 may have been of interest to a connoisseur." 
 
 The coroner dismissed the vase with a wave 
 of his hand. 
 
 "Now, Doctor, about that call," he went on im- 
 pressively. "Where did you go at that tune?" 
 
 "I went to see Peter Rossbaum, at Fourth and 
 Grant streets. He had a touch of ptomaine pois- 
 oning," the doctor explained in- an uninterested 
 tone. The coroner made a note of the name and 
 address.
 
 60 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Eliminating the idea of robbery, there remains 
 the motive of revenge. Have you any knowledge 
 of any enemy or enemies which Mrs. Cuyler pos- 
 sessed?" 
 
 "None whatever. I do not believe there is a 
 human being who had cause to dislike my wife. 
 She was the gentlest, sweetest " his voice failed, 
 and he did not try to go on. 
 
 "And you, yourself. Is there anyone you know 
 of who might wish to injure you or yours?" 
 
 I was watching the doctor, and I imagined I 
 saw him start at this question, though he replied 
 evenly enough: 
 
 "No one. So far as I know, I have no ene- 
 mies." 
 
 "You are excused, Doctor. Will Mrs. Temple 
 please come forward?"
 
 THE INQUEST 61 
 
 It was my first experience of this kind and need- 
 less to say a trying one, but I told my story in 
 the clearest manner I could. I told of the conver- 
 sation the three of us had had that evening at the 
 hedge; I related how we had heard Mrs. Cuyler 
 scream and her husband's explanation of her 
 fright. I told of hearing the motor car leave later 
 on ; and I told how I'd answered the telephone in 
 the night. I described in as few words as possible 
 the condition of affairs in that upper room at the 
 time we entered it; even so I turned a little sick 
 at the recollection of it all. 
 
 The jury was deeply interested and asked in- 
 numerable questions when I finished. The con- 
 straint which Dr. Cuyler's manner had laid upon 
 them seem to lift with my recital. 
 
 Had I known Mrs. Cuyler long? How long?
 
 62 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 About six years. 
 
 Had I known her husband before his marriage? 
 
 Yes, several years in a professional way. 
 
 Had I seen any suspicious characters prowling 
 about the place? 
 
 No, I had not. 
 
 Et cetera, et cetera. I answered all their ques- 
 tions, satisfactorily I think, and was at last ex- 
 cused. 
 
 N. P. was next called and I did feel sorry for 
 the poor old boy. He was so fearfully certain that 
 he was going to say the wrong thing, so painfully 
 intent upon saying the right, that any jury might 
 have been excused from concluding he himself was 
 the guilty party. When he sat down, he was pant- 
 ing and perspiring as though he had been engaged 
 in chopping wood.
 
 THE INQUEST 63 
 
 A few of the neighbors were then examined as 
 to whether they had noticed anything unusual 
 either before or after the murder, whether they 
 had heard the scream earlier in the evening and 
 if they had any knowledge of any enemies of the 
 Cuylers. The situation of the doctor's house made 
 their testimony of little value. Ours is the corner 
 lot, the Cuylers' is next to it and then comes the 
 vacant lot. The only other house hi the block 
 belongs to the Aliens and as they were as the sea- 
 shore the house was closed for the summer. Across 
 the street is a pleasant little park. 
 
 The last person to testify was the physician who 
 had examined the body on his arrival at the house. 
 He described the nature of the wound and give it 
 as his opinion that it had been inflicted by some 
 blunt weapon, probably the head of an ax or
 
 64 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 hatchet. A thorough search of the premises had 
 yielded no weapon of any sort. It was clear that 
 Eloise' assailant had taken with him the fearful 
 tool of his crime. When Dr. Penrose was asked 
 as to the length of time Mrs. Cuyler had been dead 
 when he came, he replied that in his opinion life 
 had been extinct for half an hour or thereabout. 
 This of course coincided with her husband's theory 
 as it was all of a quarter of an hour after our ar- 
 rival at the Cuyler's home before Dr. Penrose ap- 
 peared. 
 
 This concluded the testimony. The jury with- 
 drew to consider their verdict and we waited in the 
 library to hear it. N. P. told me afterwards that 
 the whole inquest had been conducted in a 
 strangely informal manner, but I didn't know it. 
 The coroner, it seems, was new to the business, as
 
 THE INQUEST 65 
 
 he was acting in the absence of Dr. Lynch, the of- 
 ficial coroner. I don't see myself what more could 
 have been done at the time, but I know that later 
 the Prosecuting Attorney was bitter in his denun- 
 ciation of the proceedings. 
 
 The verdict was that Eloise Cuyler had come to 
 her death on the morning of June fourth, presum- 
 ably between the hour of one o'clock and one thir- 
 ty, at the hands of a person or persons unknown, 
 said death having been caused by a blow or blows 
 from some blunt instrument, probably the head of 
 an ax. 
 
 It was what we all expected of course. There 
 seemed absolutely no clew to the murderer. 
 
 As we left the Cuyler's, it was an unpleasant 
 surprise to find a crowd thronging the sidewalk 
 and eyeing the house with morbid curiosity. By
 
 66 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 night the whole town was ringing with the story, 
 and the intense public interest spurred police and 
 detectives alike to unusual action but with no im- 
 mediate results.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SUSPICION 
 
 The next two days were a waking nightmare of 
 publicity and strenuosity for me. I thought I 
 should probably take a back seat when Mrs. Wil- 
 ding came, but I had never met her before or I 
 should have known better. She was a frail, gen- 
 tle little lady, in mourning for her husband, and 
 too crushed by this second loss to have any in- 
 itiative left. I did all I could for her and the doc- 
 tor and for my Eloise keeping her precious baby 
 with me until not an outward sign of the tragedy 
 was left in the Cuyler home. 
 
 Mrs. Wilding decided to stay on a few weeks 
 
 67
 
 . 
 
 68 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 with her son-in-law and the night after the funer- 
 al she took Mariechen home. Gradually Dr. Cuy- 
 ler came out of his frozen apathy and took up his 
 duties as usual, but he was a wreck of his former 
 self any one could see that. 
 
 I am getting ahead of my story. The day after 
 the funeral (that is, Thursday) N. P. came home 
 greatly disturbed in his mind. While he was eat- 
 ing lunch he told me there were rumors abroad 
 that the police were not satisfied with the verdict 
 of the coroner's jury and were working on a theory 
 of their own. No one came out in the open and 
 put a name to the suspicions afloat, but it was 
 known that the Prosecuting Attorney had found 
 flaws in the doctor's story of the murder. 
 
 For instance, that snake incident, I had no- 
 ticed a number of men at work in the lot next the
 
 SUSPICION 69 
 
 Cuylers', cutting the weeds, and I, wondered at the 
 doctor's remembering at this time his threat to 
 have those weeds removed. But it appeared that 
 the men were employed by the police and their 
 object was not to get rid of the weeds but to find 
 the snake that the doctor said he had thrown 
 there. And it couldn't be found. Of course that 
 threw a terrible light on the affair. If there had 
 been no snake, what had caused Mrs. Cuyler to 
 scream? 
 
 "But there was a snake, of course!" I cried. 
 "What if they didn't find it? I suppose a cat 
 could have carried it off." 
 
 "Another strange thing." N. P. went on as if 
 I hadn't spoken, "is that Peter Rossbaum whom 
 the doctor says he called on that night has left 
 the city, he and his wife both, and no one knows
 
 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 where they are. So it can't be proved that Dr. 
 Cuyler did call upon Rossbaum." 
 
 "But we ourselves heard his car leave the ga- 
 rage." 
 
 "We heard a car leave, dear. Neither of us 
 could swear that it was his. And even so we don't 
 know where he went, if he did leave the place." 
 
 I sat and stared a moment. Gradually the mean- 
 ing of his remarks began to permeate my brain. 
 
 "N. P.!" I exclaimed indignantly. "Are you 
 trying to tell me that any one has dared to inti- 
 mate to you that Dr. Cuyler is implicated in all 
 this? That he that he Oh, I never heard of 
 anything so horrible!" 
 
 "It happens every day. Some brute of a man 
 is always killing his wife," N. P. replied in a mat- 
 ter of fact way.
 
 SUSPICION 71 
 
 I rose from my chair in a kind of blind rage. 
 
 "Don't talk like that!" I stormed. "It sounds 
 as if you thought " I broke off abruptly. "Na- 
 thanial Penfield Temple, do you mean to tell me 
 that you believe for one little instant that Dr. 
 Cuyler is responsible for the death of Eloise?" 
 
 "Certainly I don't believe it." My husband 
 flashed a stern but reassuring glance at me. "Sit 
 down, Courtney, and don't get so excited. I'm 
 only trying to show you how a case may be worked 
 up against the doctor." 
 
 A sudden thought struck me. 
 
 "Pshaw ! I can knock your old case in the head 
 at the start. Eloise screamed somewhere about 
 eleven o'clock. We can swear to that. And Dr. 
 Penrose said she had not been dead more than
 
 72 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 half an hour when he came and that was nearly 
 two." 
 
 I looked triumphantly at N. P. N. P. looked at 
 the carpet. 
 
 "She might not have been killed then, Courtney, 
 but she might have been struck and died three 
 hours later." 
 
 I gasped as though he'd thrown cold water in 
 my face. 
 
 "And do you expect me or anyone with a 
 spark of the milk of human kindness in his breast 
 yes, I know perfectly that's a mixed metaphor, 
 but I'm beyond syntax now you expect me to be- 
 lieve that Vincent Cuyler, the tender, adoring hus- 
 band that we know him to be sat for three hours 
 by the side of his wife, waiting for her to die from 
 a blow that he himself had inflicted? Oh, N. P.,
 
 SUSPICION 73 
 
 whoever started that tale has overreached himself. 
 It is so absurd I could laugh, if it were not for the 
 horror of the thing." 
 
 N. P. sighed. "I'm only telling you what people 
 are saying," he said again. "They don't know 
 him as well as we do, remember." 
 
 I sat for a few minutes absolutely stunned by 
 this revelation. It was almost as awful as losing 
 Eloise to have her husband even remotely sus- 
 pected of being her murderer. 
 
 "Does he know of these rumors?" I queried af- 
 ter a while. 
 
 "No, I don't believe he does. He wouldn't be 
 apt to, you know, until the police decide to act." 
 
 "Ought you to teU him?" 
 
 "Why? It would only worry him and perhaps 
 cause him to alter his usual habits in a manner
 
 - 
 
 
 
 74 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 to confirm suspicion. If he is innocent and of 
 course he is he has nothing to fear." 
 
 "Oh, yes," I replied with sarcasm. "We all 
 know that only the guilty are brought to justice 
 and the innocent are invariably cleared." 
 
 N. P. sighed again and folded his napkin. The 
 conversation haunted me all afternoon while I 
 was over with Mrs. Wilding but when I returned 
 for dinner I found the house in a commotion that 
 drove the Cuylers' affairs temporarily out of my 
 mind. 
 
 N. P. was throwing things like a madman into 
 a suitcase and America was waddling in and out 
 with clean handkerchiefs, fresh underwear and the 
 dear knows what all. 
 
 "Hello!" my husband greeted me, lifting a red 
 face from the shoes he was attempting to cram
 
 I 
 
 SUSPICION 75 
 
 into a corner already occupied by a box of collars. 
 "I was just coming after you. Got to leave here 
 in twenty minutes to catch the Sunset Limited. 
 I'm going to San Francisco on business for the 
 firm. Telegram came this afternoon for one of us 
 to come, and Weddle's down with tonsilitis, so it's 
 up to me. I hate like thunder to leave you now, but 
 it can't be helped. You can get some one to stay 
 with you, can't you, and America will look after 
 you all right. She's not afraid of the devil him- 
 self." 
 
 There was a sniff from that black potentate as 
 she reappeared in the doorway bearing a pair of 
 silk pajamas over her arm. 
 
 "Huccome yo' forgit dese yere Benjamens, Mis- 
 tah Nat?" she inquired scornfully. 
 
 N. P. used to wear nightshirts in his archaic
 
 76 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 bachelor days, and America has never forgiven me 
 for persuading him to be up-to-date in his night 
 attire. She laid the despised garments carefully 
 in his suitcase and took the key out of his un- 
 resisting fingers. 
 
 "Hit's plum full now," she said, "an' dat air 
 taxicab eatin' its haid off out in front. Put on 
 yo' hat an' tell Miss Co'tney goodby. De good 
 Lawd knows why yo' ain't takin' her along stid 
 o' leavin' her hyah alongside o' murderers and 
 thieves!" 
 
 N. P. was too busy with the first part of her re- 
 marks to give much heed to the latter but I rather 
 echoed her sentiments. I'm pretty well accus- 
 tomed to N. P.'s frequent absences on business and 
 I'm apt to be quite philosophic about them, but 
 somehow this tune was different. I had barely re-
 
 SUSPICION 77 
 
 gained my poise after living in the shadow of the 
 Cuyler tragedy the last four days, and already in 
 anticipation I missed the comfortable bulwark of 
 N. P.'s presence. He walked to the front door 
 with his arm around me, cheerfully unconscious of 
 my mood. 
 
 "Have a good tune while I'm gone," he said. 
 "Don't get morbid about the Cuylers and don't 
 mix up in that matter I spoke to you about. Cuy- 
 ler can take care of his own troubles, or if he can't, 
 you can't help him any. Goodby, little girl." 
 
 The screen banged and he was gone. I had good 
 reason in the days that followed to wish that I 
 had taken his advice.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 
 
 The day after N. P.'s departure I went as usual 
 to see if there was anything I could do for Mrs. 
 Wilding. She reminded me of Eloise in an older, 
 faded way and already I had become fond of her 
 for her own as well as for her daughter's sake. I 
 had made up my mind before I went to her that 
 morning that I would protect her if it were a pos- 
 sible thing from any knowledge of the ugly rum- 
 ors about her son-in-law. But I feared at first I 
 was too late. I found her in a state of frightened 
 bewilderment over a letter which had been handed 
 in at the door by an unknown messenger. It was 
 
 78
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 79 
 
 written on a half sheet of notepaper and inclosed 
 in a soiled envelope addressed to 
 
 "Mrs. Cuyler's Mother." 
 
 There were only two lines in a hand which, I 
 thought, showed evidence of some education. 
 
 "DOCTOR CUYLER KNOWS WHO KILLED 
 HIS WIFE. ASK HIM ABOUT THE OTHER 
 WOMAN." 
 
 "Do you think what do you suppose it 
 means?" quavered the little lady while I stared in 
 silence at the evil bit of paper. I thought hard. 
 
 "It's probably the work of some sensation lov- 
 ing gossip," I told her. "You know there are al- 
 ways such people who rise to the surface whenever 
 a crime is committed, eager to get themselves be- 
 fore the gaze of the public. I wouldn't give it an- 
 other thought if I were you."
 
 80 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Mrs. Wilding was plainly relieved at this opin- 
 ion. Dear lady, it never took much argument to 
 convince her. 
 
 "I wonder if I ought to show it to Vincent?" she 
 puzzled. 
 
 "Oh, I wouldn't. He has enough to bear with- 
 out troubling him with such vile insinuations. I 
 believe I'd just destroy it or no give it to me 
 and I'll keep it until Mr. Temple comes home. If 
 he considers it of any importance he'll know what 
 
 is best to do about it." 
 I took the letter home and locked it carefully in 
 
 the desk hi my bedroom where I hide whatever 
 money I'm keeping in the house. I never used to 
 think of being afraid of burglars, but I've grown 
 cautious since the murder. I remember distinctly 
 that I locked the desk for I was just putting the
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 81 
 
 key in my handbag when America appeared in the 
 doorway. 
 
 "Looky hyah, Miss Co'tney," she began indig- 
 nantly and she shook out a dusty, tumbled motor 
 robe, a handsome new one that N. P. had given 
 me for the Blue jay. 
 
 "Why, what's happened to it?" I exclaimed. 
 
 "Whut ain't happened to it, I say," America re- 
 torted. "I saw it layin' in de dust when I wuz 
 hangin' out ma dishtowels reckon yo'all dropped 
 it outen dat air rideabout, an' ef I ain't seen it and 
 picked it up dish yere good-for-nothm' pup would 
 a' chawed it to a frazzle. I lay I'd bust his haid 
 open ef he had." 
 
 She took a step into the room and from behind 
 her voluminous skirts V. V. cocked an impudent 
 eye at me, secure in the knowledge that America's
 
 82 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 bark, like his own, was considerably worse than 
 her bite. 
 
 " 'Taint no use for Mistah Nat to go spendin' 
 his money for folks to fling out in de road," she 
 muttered, reaching for my whistbroom. 
 
 "Don't brush that dirty thing in here," I stopped 
 her. "Take it out on the porch to clean it and 
 then put it back in the garage where it belongs. I 
 don't know how it got out of there anyway. I've 
 not been out in the car for two days." 
 
 America looked at me doubtfully. There was 
 no one apparently on whom to lay the blame. 
 Timothy, our chauffeur, was in the hospital for 
 repairs, having taken a disastrous joy ride in the 
 big car a couple of weeks ago. The car also was 
 laid up for repairs so that at the time the garage 
 was unoccupied except for the blue "rideabout", as
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 83 
 
 America calls it, which no one ever drives but me. 
 If I had stopped to puzzle it out then perhaps I 
 could have prevented what was to occur; but my 
 mind was occupied with that odious letter and I 
 didn't give the robe another thought. Mentally 
 I kept turning and twisting the doctor's affairs 
 and try as I might I could not dismiss him from 
 my thoughts. 
 
 Strangely enough that afternoon I had a visit 
 from the Prosecuting Attorney. When America 
 brought me his card I had half a mind to refuse 
 to see him, knowing how displeased N. P. would 
 be. But I didn't know whether one dared take 
 such high-handed measures with a representative 
 of the law, so I thought I had better go down. I 
 found two men, instead of one, awaiting me. 
 
 Mr. Lipman had with him what I suppose you
 
 84 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 would call a plain clothes detective, although his 
 clothes were anything but plain the loudest mus- 
 tard checks and the most brilliant thing in the 
 way of a tie that I have ever seen. He appeared 
 to slumber quietly through the entire interview. 
 At least he sat with his eyes half closed and his 
 hands resting peacefully upon his knees. There 
 was nothing sleepy about the Prosecuting Attor- 
 ney. I know that man asked me two hundred 
 questions. He began by wanting me to tell him 
 the story of the murder as it was known to me. 
 His confidential tone implied that I might tell him 
 the facts as they really were. His manner an- 
 noyed me from the start, and I gave him the very 
 briefest and barest version of it all that I could. 
 But that didn't discourage that Lippman person, 
 not a bit of it. He seized upon the fact that
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 85 
 
 neither N. P. nor I had had a glimpse of Eloise 
 after she screamed, and he marvelled that we had 
 not had foresight enough to insist upon entering 
 the Cuylers' house then. 
 
 "I did not see any necessity for it," I said curtly. 
 "Mrs. Cuyler was resting quietly, and there was no 
 occasion for us to go in. It never occurred to either 
 of us to do so." 
 
 "Then you don't know whether Mrs. Cuyler 
 was alive at that time or not?" 
 
 "Why, yes, she was alive," I reminded him test- 
 ily. "This all happened before the murder." 
 
 "How do you know it was before the murder?" 
 
 "Why, her husband said " I began, but stopped 
 at the look on his face. 
 
 "Ah, her husband said, did he? We're not so 
 much concerned with what he said as we are with
 
 86 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 what he did upon that night. Now, Mrs. Temple, 
 if you'll be so kind, I should like you to repeat his 
 exact words, as near as you can remember them, 
 when you entered the room of the murder." 
 
 "I thought you were not interested in what he 
 said?" I permitted myself this shot before comply- 
 ing with his request. "He didn't say much; it 
 doesn't take much of an effort to recall his words. 
 He told my husband that she was dead and that 
 he was sure of that before he called us. And 
 he said for Mr. Temple not to touch her." 
 
 "Thank you very much." He wrote something 
 in a little notebook which straightway gave me an 
 uneasy feeling. "Strange what unguarded things 
 an otherwise careful man will say, have you no- 
 ticed, Bailey?" he remarked aside to his seemingly 
 sleeping companion.
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 8 
 
 I rose from my chair to conclude the interview. 
 "If you have nothing further to inquire I will ask 
 you to excuse me, as I have an engagement at five 
 o'clock." 
 
 Mr. Lippman looked uncomfortable, as though 
 he choked over innumerable questions still to be 
 asked which he probably did but his zeal had 
 carried him a little too far. There was nothing 
 more to be got from me that afternoon. 
 
 The next day passed without event, but on Sun- 
 day another queer thing occurred, inexplicable hi 
 itself, but which joined hands ominously with its 
 predecessors. I spent the afternoon alone, reading 
 on the veranda. The vines formed a screen be- 
 tween me and the gaze of those curious ones who 
 still gathered to stare at the scene of the Cuyler 
 murder. Mariechen was playing in the front yard.
 
 88 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Occasionally she frolicked through the gap in the 
 hedge and came across the lawn to speak to me. 
 Her nurse was looking after her, so I didn't have 
 her on my mind, but once the girl went into the 
 house for something and presently Mariechen 
 came trotting over to me with a paper in her 
 hand. 
 
 "A man gived me this for Dranma. She's asleep." 
 I took the letter in my hand and instanly rec- 
 ognized the handwriting. It was the same as that 
 on the anonymous letter which had so distressed 
 Mrs. Wilding. I sat for a long time pondering 
 the advisability of showing her this one. It was 
 sure to contain another disquieting message, and I 
 hated for her to know about it. I finally made up 
 my mind that I was justified in opening it first. 
 And when I had read what it contained I was glad
 
 STRAWS IN THE WIND 89 
 
 that I had done so. This was the message: 
 
 "THE DOCTOR SAYS HE WAS ALONE 
 WITH HIS WIFE WHEN SHE SCREAMED. 
 HE WASN'T. I WAS THERE FOR THE PUR- 
 POSE OF ROBBING THE HOUSE, AND I 
 SAW THE MURDER. MAKE THE DOCTOR 
 TELL YOU ABOUT THE OTHER WOMAN." 
 
 Heaven knows that was bad enough! But it 
 wasn't the message itself that made me sit staring, 
 fascinated, at that paper. On the contrary, it 
 was the paper itself, a half sheet of the linen bond 
 I always use and which bore at the top the fa- 
 miliar Temple crest a hare and a raven, with 
 the words "Durante Vita" 
 
 N. P. had the die made for me a number of 
 years ago, and I always have my paper marked
 
 90 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 with it. As it is rather expensive, I reserve it for 
 my own private correspondence and I keep the 
 entire supply in my bedroom desk. That desk 
 has been locked for the last few days, as I have 
 said before, and the mystery of how anyone had 
 gamed access to it without my knowledge and 
 helped himself to this sheet of paper was prac- 
 tically insolvable. And yet, yet my eyes did 
 not deceive me. It undoubtedly was my own 
 paper on which I gazed, while little shivers of fear 
 began to chill my spine even in broad daylight. 
 
 Common sense argued that it was some kind 
 of a hoax, in disgustingly bad taste, of course ; but 
 common sense can't always satisfy our doubts. I 
 began to feel that whatever the mystery was I 
 could no longer bear the disquieting knowledge of 
 it alone.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE AEBEST 
 
 N. P. being away, I thought it best to take the 
 letters directly to Dr. Cuyler. It seemed a pity 
 to worry him, as I had said to Mrs. Wilding, but 
 in the light of this second communication coming 
 so closely upon the first, I really felt that it might 
 be better for him to know. 
 
 He was out on a prolonged case that night, and 
 I couldn't get in touch with him, so I called him 
 the next day over the phone and made an en- 
 gagement to take him for a ride after office hours. 
 
 I parked the Blue jay in front of the Rialto 
 Building,, where he has his office a foolish thing 
 to do, as I learned later, though, of course, I never 
 
 91
 
 92 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 thought of it at the time and went to do some 
 shopping. When I returned a little after four he 
 was just coming down from his office. We met on 
 the sidewalk, stepped into the car and drove at 
 once away from the downtown district. Dr. Cuyler 
 had very little to say, but he made an effort to 
 reply to my chatter while we were heading out for 
 the quieter boulevards. 
 
 It was just a week since the frightful night of 
 Eloise's death. He had aged so much in the brief 
 time that it might have been years. He had 
 lost flesh, his face was haggard, and his fine eyes 
 were darkened with the awful shadow of the tra- 
 gedy. I tried a tentative question or two. The 
 detectives he had employed were busily engaged, 
 he told me, but as yet had found no clew to the 
 murderer.
 
 THE ARREST 93 
 
 This was the time for me to speak of the mys- 
 terious letters I carried, and yet I dreaded to do it. 
 Instead I slowed up the car a bit as we turned 
 into the leafy Riverview Drive, and pretended 
 that I wanted to let "V. V." get out and run. Then 
 Dr. Cuyler turned to me and said gently: 
 
 "What is it on your mind, Mrs. Temple? You 
 said there was something you wanted to speak to 
 me about? I'm afraid my troubles are paining you 
 too much." 
 
 I felt the color mount hi my cheeks and a stric- 
 ture in my throat at his considerate tone. That 
 anyone should suspect such a man of crime was 
 preposterous, I thought hotly. The purport of 
 those letters was too vile to disclose to him. I 
 was half inclined even then to let the whole mat- 
 ter drop, but the burden of responsibility weighed
 
 94 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 heavily upon me. I took the letters from my bag 
 and handed them to him. 
 
 "These fell into my hands," I faltered, "and I 
 took care of them to save Mrs. Wilding anxiety. I 
 wouldn't have bothered you with them either 
 but for one thing," and I explained how they had 
 been delivered and the curious circumstance of 
 my paper with the crest. 
 
 Dr. Cuyler listened gravely to my story. A 
 faintly contemptuous expression crossed his face 
 as he examined the letters, and stuffed them into 
 his pocket. 
 
 "Do you suppose they might be a clew to the 
 murderer?" I asked after a bit, as he did not speak. 
 He emitted a short, unmirthful laugh that grated 
 on my ears. 
 
 "Not very likely. Anonymous communications
 
 THE ARREST 95 
 
 never have much value, you know. I'm sorry 
 you should have been troubled with the scurrilous 
 stuff." 
 
 His tone dismissed the subject. He stooped to 
 pick up my handkerchief; and then occurred the 
 strangest and most inexplicable of all the strange 
 and inexplicable things which had happened since 
 that awful night when Eloise came to her death. 
 As he bent down, a piece of paper fluttered to 
 the floor. I can't account yet for its presence in 
 the car. It may be that it was hi one of those 
 envelopes all the time, so small a piece that neither 
 the doctor nor I had seen it when we drew out 
 the large sheet. But whether it fell out unknown 
 to either of us when he read the letter, or whether 
 it was placed in the Blue Jay while she was in 
 the garage, I do not know. In view of what after-
 
 96 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 wards happened in the garage, I'm inclined to be- 
 lieve the latter theory to be the correct one. At 
 any rate, the question of how it got there didn't 
 enter my head until afterwards. An appalling 
 change came over the doctor's face as he glanced 
 at this bit of paper. He turned white to the lips, 
 and his eyes dilated with an unmistakable look of 
 horror. 
 
 "What is it? Oh, what is it?" I cried. 
 
 He swallowed as though something obstructed 
 his speech. Then he turned to me sternly. 
 
 "What does this mean Did you is it pos- 
 sible that you " 
 
 "I?" All the consternation that I felt sounded 
 in my voice. "I don't understand you, Doctor 
 Cuyler." 
 
 I took the paper from his hand and examined it
 
 THE ARREST 97 
 
 eagerly, convinced that it held some important 
 clew. I was nonplussed when I read the single 
 word it contained 
 
 "Ruenna." 
 
 The name, printed in rude letters, stared up at 
 me innocently. What was there in that to destroy 
 the doctor's accustomed poise? Was it the name 
 of a town, of a drug, or of a woman? I resolutely 
 put the last supposition from me. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Mrs. Temple," Dr. Cuyler 
 had regained his usual composure as he turned 
 to me again. "It was inexcusable of me to startle 
 you so. My nerves are a bit raw lately, and that 
 name brought back very vividly something that 
 I have tried to forget. Please don't give it another 
 thought. You've had more than your share of my 
 troubles, and you've done everything that a friend
 
 98 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 could do that is generous and kind and sweet. If 
 Eloise " he paused abruptly. 
 
 "I haven't done anything at all," I protested, 
 winking back a tear. "But I'm always ready and 
 willing, and if there ever is anything I can do, 
 won't you please call on me for Eloise's sake?" 
 
 He hesitated a moment. I had the feeling that 
 he wanted to steer the conversation away from 
 the strange name, for presently he said: 
 
 "There is something, Mrs. Temple, that I'd be 
 grateful if you'd give your attention to. That is 
 Eloise's garden. There are so many flowers that 
 need cutting, and I have no one in my house to 
 attend to them. Could you find time to cut some 
 for the hospital tomorrow? Eloise used to do 
 it about once a week, I believe." 
 
 "Oh, I'd love to. I'm so glad you spoke to me
 
 THE ARREST 99 
 
 about it," I cried, secretly resolving that I would 
 oversee the beloved place of Eloise's labors for 
 him and keep it from neglect until he had the 
 heart to take it up himself. 
 
 "Thank you. I knew you would. Is there any 
 kindness you wouldn't love to do for a friend?" he 
 asked, a sudden light glancing across his somber 
 face. "I have no words to tell you what your 
 sympathy means to me," he added, lifting my 
 hand to his lips. It was but a natural, graceful 
 manifestation of his mood and I shouldn't have 
 given the incident another thought if at that very 
 moment an automobile had not swung around the 
 corner, containing of all people the Prosecuting 
 Attorney. He shot an inquiring glance at us as he 
 carelessly tipped his hat. I felt the blood mount 
 
 jr 
 
 in my cheeks and I was suddenly and uncomfort-
 
 100 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 ably aware of being in a conspicuous position. I 
 whistled sharply to V. V. who was skirmishing 
 among the bushes, and set the Blue Jay on the 
 wing again. Dr. Cuyler, absorbed in his own 
 thoughts, apparently had not noticed my confu- 
 sion. 
 
 We were both rather silent on the homeward 
 drive. The Prosecuting Attorney with his hateful 
 glance faded from my thoughts. I felt relieved 
 from the too great responsibility I had borne and 
 though Dr. Cuyler's face was as stern and sad as 
 ever, the fresh air or the drive or something had 
 driven a little healthful color into it. 
 
 It was after six when we drove up the street 
 toward home. I noticed two men standing on Dr. 
 Cuyler's porch and I stopped directly in front of 
 the house to let him out.
 
 THE ARREST 101 
 
 "Don't bother about me," I said. "It's no 
 trouble to put up the car." So with an apology 
 for acting as I urged him, he got out and went up 
 the walk to meet the men.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 
 
 America had sounded the gong for dinner and 
 I was descending the stairs, my mind still occu- 
 pied with Dr. Cuyler and his troubles, when I 
 glanced out the hall window and saw him leaving 
 his house accompanied by the two men we had 
 noticed as we drove home. Almost simultaneous- 
 ly the telephone rang. As I entered the dining 
 room America greeted me with a message from 
 one of the Cuylers' maids asking that I come over 
 at once, as Mrs. Wilding was in a sad state. 
 
 Something shivery and cold got hold of me just 
 
 for a moment but I can't honestly say that I had 
 
 102
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 103 
 
 any premonition of the blow about to fall. Pre- 
 vious experience, however, had made me a little 
 panicky about telephone summons from that ill- 
 fated house. I hurried across the lawn with a furi- 
 tive wish that N. P. was pounding at my heels. 
 I found Mrs. Wilding upstairs alone in a tearful 
 heap upon her bed. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Temple," she greeted me with sobs, 
 "what have I ever done to suffer so much trou- 
 ble? I thought my cup was full when I lost my 
 precious daughter, but now they have taken yin- 
 cent too!" 
 
 "Taken him?" I questioned stupidly. "Taken 
 him where?" 
 
 "They have arrested him for Eloise's murder. 
 Think of it! Her own husband and my grand- 
 daughter's father! Oh, it is too cruel, too heart-
 
 104 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 breaking! In his own house, and before his inno- 
 cent child!" She wrung her frail old hands and 
 wept piteously. I could not utter a word to com- 
 fort her. My tongue clove to the roof of my 
 mouth, and there was a sudden roaring in my 
 ears. Dr. Cuyler arrested for the murder of Eloise ! 
 Had it indeed come to that? Had the world 
 swung suddenly and dizzily from its axis? 
 
 "But those men were not policemen," I heard 
 myself stammering at last. "At least they weren't 
 in uniform." 
 
 "No, they said they had been instructed to spare 
 Dr. Cuyler all the humiliation they could. But 
 they are policemen, and they are taking him to 
 jail. Think of it, Courtney! you will let me call 
 you so, my dear? My only child in her cold 
 grave, and the man to whom I gave her hi mar-
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 105 
 
 riage locked in the common jail charged with her 
 murder! Oh, why wasn't I taken before I came 
 upon these evil days?" 
 
 My heart bled for her in distress. I braced 
 myself to the situation and did everything I could 
 to soothe and quiet her, but I was finally obliged 
 to send for Dr. Penrose. I waited downstairs until 
 he came to assure me that Mrs. Wilding was at last 
 composed and able to sleep, then I started home. 
 At the hedge I turned back and asked for Marie- 
 chen to spend the night with me. I was sud- 
 denly afraid of my own thoughts and dreaded to 
 be left alone with them. Eloise dead, Dr. Cuyler 
 in jail, and N. P. gone! With Mrs. Wilding I 
 could lament that I too had fallen upon evil days. 
 
 The blessed baby was glad enough to leave that 
 subdued household for my pretty dining room
 
 106 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 and America's fluffy sponge cake and ice cream. I 
 kept her up until her head nodded like a heavy 
 rose. When I finally put her to bed in my own 
 room the gloomy forebodings I had been fighting 
 settled down upon me like a pall. No tiny doubt 
 of the doctor's innocence shook my faith in him 
 even then, but I was oppressed with anxiety and 
 I felt terribly helpless and alone. 
 
 Mariechen and I both slept late next morning 
 and came down to find America grumbling over 
 her waiting waffle batter. I tied on my small 
 guest's bib, and when she was happily engaged 
 with spoon and cup I opened the still damp morn- 
 ing paper. 
 
 "DR. CUYLER ARRESTED FOR MURDER 
 OF HIS WIFE. INSTRUMENT OF DEATH 
 FOUND IN WEEDS NEAR THE HOUSE.
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 107 
 
 PHYSICIAN IS JOY-RIDING WITH PRETTY 
 NEIGHBOR WHILE OFFICERS WAIT TO 
 ARREST HIM." 
 
 The room went round for a moment. Marie- 
 chen's golden head swam in a wavering sea of 
 light. I clutched the tablecloth to steady myself, 
 and took a deep draught from the cup of hot 
 coffee which America had just placed in front of 
 me. It must be that I had read it wrong. But 
 when I gathered my courage to look at the solid 
 print below, I found it worse even than I thought. 
 
 "This community, which a short time ago was 
 greatly shocked by the brutal murder of Mrs. 
 Cuyler, has again been stirred to the depths by 
 the arrest of the victim's husband as her assail- 
 ant. Prosecuting Attorney Lippman has been 
 quietly at work upon the case and has obtained
 
 108 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 enough evidence against the physician to justify 
 his arrest. The most important clew to the mur- 
 derer was found last Monday when men, sent tc 
 search for the snake which Dr. Cuyler claimed to 
 have thrown in the lot next to his house, came 
 upon a silver-headed cane marked with the doc- 
 tor's initials. The heavy knob is stained with a 
 dark substance which experts pronounce to be 
 human blood. Dr. Cuyler, when confronted with 
 this gory instrument, acknowledged freely that it 
 belonged to him, but says he has no idea how it 
 came in the place where it was found. He stead- 
 ily denies his guilt. It is his theory that an in- 
 truder whom he believes to have been in his 
 house during his absence caught up the stick 
 from Mrs. Cuyler's bedroom, and having used it 
 in the awful manner known, threw it into the
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 109 
 
 weeds as he fled. This is, of course, a plausible 
 theory, but unfortunately there are other damn- 
 ing facts which point to the doctor as the guilty 
 man. The Prosecuting Attorney will not give 
 these out until the time of the trial. One sig- 
 nificant fact is the continued intimacy between the 
 doctor and a neighbor and former friend of his 
 wife. This lady's husband is now absent from 
 the city, and gossip has it that this journey is 
 but a prelude to a permanent separation between 
 the couple. It is known that the lady in ques- 
 tion has been for some time closely associated 
 with Dr. Cuyler in charitable work. The fact has 
 now come to light that these two friend and 
 husband of the murdered woman had known 
 each other previous to the marriage of Dr. and 
 Mrs. Cuyler.
 
 110 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "A few of the questions which arise in the minds 
 of the public are: How much did Mrs. Cuyler 
 know of this friendship? Was she killed in a fit 
 of rage when she reproached the doctor on this 
 lady's account? Or did he remove her in order 
 to make way for the other woman? Feeling against 
 the physician is running high, and it is rumored 
 that he will not be admitted to bond." 
 
 For a long tune I sat staring at the paper, too 
 numb with surprise and misery to think. Then 
 slowly my anger began to burn. It was my name 
 that was flaunted at me through this thin veil 
 of insinuation. It was my clean and honest 
 friendship for an honorable man that was being 
 dragged through the mire it was my friend that 
 I was accused of betraying. Oh, it was horrible, 
 horrible ! And utterly unbelievable ! I crumpled
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 111 
 
 the paper in my hand and threw it under the 
 table. In a minute I fished it up again and opened 
 it out upon the cloth where the hateful headlines 
 leered at me with an almost human malevolence. 
 
 How had anyone dared to write such rotten stuff 
 about decent people? The editor of that paper 
 must be a cur, I thought. Suddenly another alarm- 
 ing idea occurred to me. It was not only my 
 name, but N. P.'s too, his fine old honorable name, 
 that was being tattled about the town. I could 
 picture to myself his emotions when his eye lit 
 on the front page of that paper, and I trembled 
 to think what he would do to the editor thereof. 
 
 It takes almost a cataclysm to arouse N. P/s 
 anger, he ig so slow, so tolerant, so self-controlled, 
 but when the floodgates are open look out for 
 the deluge! I saw it once, and I have never for-
 
 112 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 gotten. It was a little while after we were mar- 
 ried; a colored chauffeur was insolent to me. N. 
 P. overheard, and he burst out on that darky just 
 like a bull, knocked him down, and I almost 
 thought he'd kill him before he'd finished. I don't 
 exactly like to think about it now, but sometimes 
 when I'm provoked with N. P. for being so easy 
 going, I pinch myself and remember; although, 
 to be sure, that was when we were first married, 
 and N. P. has calmed down considerably about me 
 since. 
 
 However, this newspaper affair was something 
 to arouse any man with any self respect. I knew 
 N. P. would take the first train home after he got 
 hold of it. True to his habit, he always has the 
 home papers follow him wherever he goes, so I 
 had no hope that he would not see it while he was
 
 A NEWSPAPER BOMB 113 
 
 in California. It was simply a question of time. 
 I made up my mind that I might expect him back 
 by the following Saturday at the latest.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 N. P/S SILENCE 
 
 The morning after the story of Dr. Cuyler's 
 arrest got in the paper I wasn't a bit surprised on 
 looking in the glass to discover my first white 
 hair. I had lain awake most of the night worrying 
 over the hideous net of crime which was entang- 
 ling me as well as Dr. Cuyler ; worrying, too, over 
 its effect on poor N. P. If every hair in my head 
 instead of just one had turned white I wouldn't 
 have been surprised. 
 
 The whole thing was like a bad dream from 
 which I couldn't waken. Even the broad light of 
 day was not sufficient to dispel the gloom of my 
 
 114
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 115 
 
 thoughts. It was unthinkable that I, Courtney 
 Temple, was being dragged through the mire of 
 newspaper publicity like the commonest kind of 
 woman; yet that incredible thing was the only 
 truth in the matter. Of course every word that 
 paper printed concerning my relations with Dr. 
 Cuyler was a lie. I tried over and over again in 
 the long hours of the night to persuade myself 
 that it was only something I'd dreamed about, 
 but the miserable truth was not to be denied. The 
 paper had really dared to write an insinuating ar- 
 ticle about our friendship. 
 
 Unable to sleep, I got out of bed as soon as it 
 was light, and after a cold plunge that toned me 
 up a little, I put on a kimona and sat myself down 
 in front of my dressing table. It was then that 
 I discovered the white hair. I studied my reflec-
 
 116 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 tion in the mirror ; not from vanity, for I was too 
 miserable to care that my hair was turning white 
 and that my healthy color was bleached out to a 
 pasty grey, but with the full determination to 
 probe my conscience to its depths. 
 
 The thing that hurt me most of all was a feeling 
 that somehow I'd been disloyal to N. P. I wanted 
 to find out if I really had myself to blame, or if 
 I was simply the victim of circumstances. To 
 begin, then, had there every been anything in my 
 feelings or in my attitude toward Dr. Cuyler to 
 discredit our decent friendship? I searched my 
 memory for the most trivial incident, going back 
 over the years to my earliest acquaintance with 
 the handsome young physician. He had first 
 won my liking and N. P.'s when he brought me 
 through a severe attack of pneumonia. I honestly
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 117 
 
 couldn't find one thing I was ashamed to remem- 
 ber. 
 
 N. P.'s indulgence, coupled with the fact that 
 we have no children, has made possible for me a 
 much freer life than most married women have. 
 In that life of sports as well as of amusements, 
 motoring, golfing, dancing, traveling, have been 
 many men friends as well as women, but N. P.'s 
 implicit trust in me has always kept a magic circle 
 around my life. And I perfectly despise a married 
 flirt. 
 
 Flippant, careless I might have been. And Dr. 
 Cuyler is more than ordinarily attractive. With- 
 out him and Eloise I should have had to fare afield 
 for company many a night when N. P. was ab- 
 sorbed in business or in his papers. But as for 
 intentional disloyalty my love of fair play rose
 
 118 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 up just here to acquit me in the same impersonal 
 way it would have acquitted an outsider. 
 
 "Courtney Temple, you're an idiot," I cogitated, 
 chin in hand. "You've got so morbid over this 
 thing you can't tell black from white. Next thing 
 you'll be trying to persuade yourself you walked 
 over in your sleep and murdered Eloise. Brace 
 up, old girl, and get a little pep into you, for 
 heaven's sake. You're no queen of the movies. 
 You're just a plain, every-day woman whose hus- 
 band is coming home, as fast as he can travel, to 
 smash the editor of that paper into smithereens." 
 
 It was a distinctly cheering thought. The day 
 before, I 'd been in terror of what N. P. would 
 do. Now, after my wretched, wakeful night, I felt 
 a real satisfaction in knowing that he would cer- 
 tainly do something vehement.
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 119 
 
 So I managed to whistle up my courage for the 
 time being, but owing to my husband's extraordi- 
 nary behavior, it didn't last long. N. P. has a 
 pleasant habit of sending me a telegram or a 
 night letter every day or so while he is away. He 
 simply hates to write, but he wants to hear, so 
 that is the way he gets around me. I had a night 
 letter from him as usual on this doleful Friday, 
 and for several days after I heard in the same 
 way. When the fifth day brought another of those 
 night letters making no reference to the newspaper 
 account, and the sixth day and the seventh and 
 the eighth well, I didn't know what to think. 
 
 I've always heard there's no punishment like 
 suspense, and I believe it now. As I said before, 
 the fear that I first had of N. P.'s rage on coming 
 home had merged into a kind of righteous satis-
 
 120 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 faction in the anticipation. Soon that changed 
 into burning indignation when he didn't come or 
 even refer to the matter in the daily telegrams I 
 received. 
 
 Was he more indifferent than I had supposed? 
 Did he really not care what I did as long as I 
 didn't interfere with his precious business? Was 
 he furious, or disgusted? Was he even now in- 
 stituting divorce proceedings against me in Cali- 
 fornia? 
 
 Round and round in the treadmill of my mind 
 these questions whirled, and no grist in the shape 
 of a solution to the puzzle ever rewarded me. A 
 new white hair came every morning. America, 
 alarmed at my dwindling appetite, fairly outshone 
 herself in the preparation of my dainty meals, 
 but her best results were dust and ashes on my
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 121 
 
 lips. If it hadn't been for my neighbors' troubles 
 and the fact that Mrs. Wilding kept me pretty 
 busy, I think I should have taken the tram for 
 California in an attempt to clear up matters for 
 myself. 
 
 Eloise's mother had come to regard me as the 
 final resort in every emergency. She called me up 
 to know what to give Mariechen to eat; what 
 privileges to allow the second girl; to find out 
 what dessert Dr. Cuyler liked best (this was before 
 his arrest.) All the thousand and one crises of 
 housekeeping she trustfully referred to me. 
 
 Even in matters outside the house I had to take 
 a hand. There was the time the man came from 
 the florist's with some plants Eloise had ordered 
 early in the spring. Mrs. Wilding didn't know 
 where they were to be put. Would dear Courtney 
 please come over and show him?
 
 122 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 I didn't know either, but I said I would come. 
 I found the florist's man, a mild spectacled per- 
 son, waiting patiently on the side verandah, a 
 great hamper of plants beside him. 
 
 "All these?" I exclaimed in dismay. "Are you 
 sure that Mrs. Cuyler ordered all these?" 
 
 "Yes, ma'am. Here's the bill for them." 
 
 "But this isn't the time of year for setting out 
 plants." I glanced toward the garden, shimmering 
 with color in the warm June sunshine. "It's too 
 late for these things now." 
 
 The florist's man was apologetic. 
 
 "Well, ma'am, to be sure, it is. But these are 
 very rare varieties sent especially for Mrs. Cuyler, 
 and we had some trouble in getting them. They 
 ought to have been here a month or six weeks ago. 
 They came in a shipment to us this morning, and
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 123 
 
 Mr. Harrowgate told me to bring them right over." 
 "Well, I'm going to tell you to take them right 
 back," I began, determined not to be imposed 
 upon. And then I check my hasty speech. Was 
 it my place to give orders here? I suddenly saw 
 the matter in the light of the town's gossip. This 
 would be a nice tidbit for the Morning Gazette. 
 "Mrs. Cuyler's friend countermands her orders, 
 given before her death." I looked keenly at the 
 little man. How did I know that he was not 
 in the employ of the paper itself? He looked in- 
 nocent enough, but I had no assurance that he 
 wouldn't go straight from the garden to the editor 
 of the Gazette with this new item. I was trusting 
 nobody these days. So I changed my tone and 
 asked blandly. 
 
 "What would you advise about them? Of course 
 I want to do as Mrs. Cuyler would wish."
 
 124 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 The shade on his face lifted perceptibly. "Well, 
 I think there's several of these that can be set 
 out all right. It's too late for some, and those I'll 
 have to take back to the greenhouse. We might 
 sort them over if you can spare the tune." 
 
 He began unpacking the hamper with careful 
 hands. V. V. trotted up and commenced sniffing 
 at the man's feet. 
 
 "Don't mind him," I said reassuringly. "He 
 won't bother you." 
 
 "Oh, I know this dog," he answered. He gave 
 V. V. a friendly pat. "We got acquainted a while 
 back when I took this order. Now, here's a Ca- 
 mellia Japonica. That'YL have to go back, all right. 
 And these Gefion Phlox. I don't believe we'd 
 better risk these hi the open ground. But now 
 these Pompom Chrysanthemums and the Delphi-
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 125 
 
 nium they can go in as well now as earlier. Shall 
 I set 'em out for you, ma'am? Mrs. Cuyler talked 
 them over with me when I took the order, and I 
 know about where she meant to put 'em." 
 
 "Do," I assented with relief. "I know very little 
 about gardening, and I suppose you know a lot." 
 
 "Quite a bit, yes, ma'am," he answered mod- 
 estly. "I've always loved flowers, and I've worked 
 with them on and off most of my life. I wouldn't 
 want to do anything to spoil this garden, either. 
 It's about the prettiest in town according to my 
 notion." 
 
 He set to work with enthusiasm, talking un- 
 expectedly well about the flowers and their likes 
 and dislikes. I watched him with a new ache in 
 my heart. Eloise's flowers, frail, ephemeral things, 
 were alive and blooming hi the sweet summer sun-
 
 126 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 shine, while Eloise I caught myself up sharply. 
 I was getting too much in this habit of dismal 
 reverie. 
 
 "What about all these bulbs?" I inquired. 
 "What can we do with them?" 
 
 "Oh, they'll keep nicely until fall if you put 'em 
 in a dark place. All but these iris. Fall's the time 
 for setting out tulips, hyacinths and daffodils, but 
 iris is different. You dig 'em up in the fall and 
 set 'em out again in the spring." 
 
 "We might try putting these out now," I sug- 
 gested, beginning to grow interested in the matter. 
 "That hedge has nearly stopped blooming. Why 
 shouldn't we dig up some of those plants and put 
 in these bulbs instead?" 
 
 The little man was horrified. 
 
 "Oh, no, ma'am. I guess you don't understand
 
 N. P.'S SILENCE 127 
 
 about these iris. They're something very special 
 Paleta, they're called and the bulbs cost three 
 dollars apiece. The hedge is just Japanese iris, 
 pretty enough, but nothing like these rare ones." 
 
 "I see," I replied with proper awe. "We mustn't 
 insult these aristocrats by putting them with the 
 common herd. But oughtn't something be done 
 with that hedge? It seems to me it's entirely too 
 thick. We might thin it out a bit, anyway. I'd 
 like to keep it in good condition, Mrs. Cuyler was 
 so proud of it." 
 
 He tried to conceal how greatly my benighted 
 state of ignorance shocked him. 
 
 "It's perfect just as it is now," he declared 
 anxiously. "You'll make a great mistake if you 
 touch it, if you'll excuse my saying so. Take out 
 a clump here and there, and you'll never have 
 the same unbroken symmetry again."
 
 128 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Very well," I acquiesced, a little weary of the 
 subject. "I'll let it alone, and I'm much obliged 
 to you for the interest you've taken. You can 
 leave this bill with me. Dr. Cuyler will settle it 
 with Mr. Harrowgate." 
 
 He bade me a pleasant good-morning, and de- 
 parted. I gave no further thought to the little 
 episode then, but I've wondered since if things 
 might not have been different had I followed my 
 impulse and insisted then and there upon the thin- 
 ning of the hedge.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 AT 1:10 
 
 "Miss Co'tney, is you-all heerd 'bout de hant 
 at de doctah's?" 
 
 I looked up from my desk to see the fat form 
 of our cook standing in the doorway, her cushiony 
 black hands resting on her hips. It was the day 
 after my interview with the florist's man in Elo- 
 ise's garden. No more recent emergency had arisen 
 requiring my assistance at the Cuylers', and I was 
 devoting the temporary lull to an overhauling of 
 my papers and bills. 
 
 "No, I hadn't heard," I replied. "What kind 
 of a haunt is it?" The quickest way to get rid 
 
 129
 
 130 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 of America is to let her say her say and be done 
 with it. 
 
 "Hit's a bell," she told me, nodding her head 
 mysteriously. 
 
 "A bell? What sort of a bell? What does it do?" 
 
 "Hit rings. Yas'm, hit rings ebery night at de 
 time Mis' Cuyler was done killed. An' Mis' Wild- 
 ing, she just about crazy in de haid." 
 
 "America," I said sternly, "what nonsense are 
 you talking? If anything were wrong or out of 
 the ordinary at the Cuylers', I'm sure that Mrs. 
 Wilding would have sent for me." 
 
 "Yas'm, that whut she do now. That no-count, 
 light-complexion Melba, she say will you-all come 
 ovah 'cause Mis' Wilding she ain't feeling lak she 
 ought to. An' Melba, she say dat bell sure does 
 ring loud. She and de nuss gal dey heerd it 'way
 
 AT 1:10 131 
 
 up in de third story and hit lak to scared 'em 
 white!" 
 
 I went over to Mrs. Wilding, wondering what 
 fresh thrust Fate had given the little lady. I 
 hadn't paid much attention to America's story, 
 but to my surprise Mrs. Wilding practically con- 
 firmed it. 
 
 "The first time I heard the bell," she said in 
 response to my question, "was four nights ago, 
 the Monday after Vincent's arrest. It pealed 
 through the house, and I sprang up, thinking 
 it was the telephone. But when I took down the 
 receiver Central declared that no one had called. 
 I went back to bed, almost convinced that it had 
 been part of a dream. The next night it came 
 again, and last night, too ; and always at the same 
 time."
 
 132 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "And that time was?" I asked fearfully. Our 
 eyes met. 
 
 "It was ten minutes after one precisely." 
 
 This was the approximate hour at which it had 
 been decided that Eloise met her death. Mrs. 
 Wilding's white face and trembling hands told 
 that she was aware of this coincidence. 
 
 "Well," I said briskly, after a moment's reflec- 
 tion, "we'll solve the mystery without any more 
 ado. I'll telephone an electrician and have the 
 house wires examined." 
 
 But, to my surprise, Mrs. Wilding put out a 
 frail hand to detain me. 
 
 "My dear, I wish you wouldn't. Not now, at 
 any rate." 
 
 "Not have the matter investigated? But why, 
 dear Mrs. Wilding? Don't you want to know 
 what is causing that strange ringing?"
 
 AT 1:10 133 
 
 "No, I'm not sure that I do," she answered 
 bravely, though her face flushed with embarrass- 
 ment. "I know you'll think me a superstitious 
 old woman, but I have a feeling that it would be 
 better for us all if we made no effort to fathom 
 this mystery." 
 
 "You don't surely you don't think it is con- 
 nected with Eloise in any way?" 
 
 She looked down for a moment in silence, then 
 spoke with soft firmness. 
 
 "Courtney, it's like this. The winter before 
 Eloise was married she had an illness which was 
 largely a nervous one. She did not care for the 
 nurse we had for her, and she often wanted me 
 to sit with her, especially when she could not 
 sleep at night. I had a bell put in my room with 
 the button at the head of her bed, and when she
 
 134 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 grew too nervous to sleep she would touch this 
 button, and the bell rang in my room. Then 
 I would go and sit with her until she grew quiet. 
 Now it rings just as it did before, and I can't 
 try as I will I can't rid myself of the idea that 
 my child is calling me is wanting me even in the 
 place where she is gone." 
 
 Mrs. Wilding buried her face in her handker- 
 chief and sobbed quietly. I stood aghast at this 
 revelation. I did not doubt for an instant that 
 there was some perfectly natural explanation of 
 the bell, and it horrified me to think of the long 
 hours of suffering this already heart-broken 
 mother had endured. 
 
 "Dear Mrs. Wilding," I exclaimed, "let me stay 
 with you tonight and hear this bell for myself. 
 Perhaps I can explain it for you without any 
 outside help."
 
 AT 1:10 135 
 
 She grasped my arm convulsively. 
 
 "You must not ask anyone about it. I will 
 not have this talked over by "outsiders who would 
 see nothing in it but an old woman's ridiculous 
 superstition. I would not have mentioned it at 
 all, but that the maids have heard it, and I knew 
 they had spoken of it to your cook. You'll prom- 
 ise me? Thank you, my dear. And I shall be very- 
 glad if you will stay with me tonight." 
 
 So it was settled, and when the time came I was 
 on hand for my investigation. 
 
 Mrs. Wilding seemed grateful for my compan- 
 ionship, but she retired early, leaving me alone 
 in the Cuylers' guest room. I did not go to bed; 
 I merely exchanged my gown for a negligee and 
 sat down with a book to await the hour of one. 
 The book was not interesting, but my thoughts
 
 136 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 were, and I spent the time alternately in the re- 
 hearsal of scathing speeches which I would de- 
 liver to N. P. if I ever saw him again, and in 
 speculation about Dr. Cuyler in his lonely cell. 
 The little Dresden clock on the shelf at last 
 pointed to one. 
 
 I turned off my light and went softly into the 
 hall. I seated myself on the top step and waited 
 breathlessly, my teeth clicking together as I re- 
 membered what had taken place at this hour of 
 another night in the room across the hall. Would 
 the mystery of that tragedy ever be solved? Would 
 we ever know whose feet made their stealthy 
 way up the steps, halted before the door of the 
 blue room, and passed hi on their sinister errand? 
 
 Ting-a-ling aling! Loud and sharp through 
 the house pealed a bell. Listening for it though I
 
 AT I'lO 137 
 
 was, I started violently at the sound. It was so 
 shrilling, so insistent! I tried to decide from what 
 part of the house it originated, but other than 
 that I judged it to come from beyond the hall, I 
 could not locate the source. It rang for perhaps 
 ten seconds, then stopped, though the echoes 
 seemed to linger for much longer. A moment 
 later a door opened, and Mrs. Wilding appeared 
 in the hall. 
 
 "You hear?" she asked me quietly. Her face was 
 very white, but she seemed not to be afraid. "0 
 Eloise, my child! What is it you want of your 
 mother?" 
 
 I shook off the numbness that enveloped me. 
 
 "I'm going down to the kitchen and look 
 around," I announced firmly. "Someone is play- 
 ing upon your natural grief by a cowardly trick."
 
 138 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 But she put her arms around me and clung 
 piteously. 
 
 "Don't, Courtney, please don't! I don't want 
 you to do anything about it. And it wouldn't be 
 worth while anyway. I've thought this over care- 
 fully and I've come to the conclusion that it is 
 a warning of my own end. . My daughter is telling 
 me in this way that I am to join her in death as I 
 went to her hi illness. I accept it as such. God 
 knows I'm glad to go." 
 
 There was nothing I could say which shook her 
 in this morbid conviction. I recognized the fact 
 that her nerves had not recovered from the awful 
 shock they had received. It was useless to argue 
 with her, but I resolved in my own mind to do a 
 little quiet investigating in the morning. I felt 
 I could look about and still keep the letter of my 
 promise to Mrs. Wilding.
 
 AT 1:10 139 
 
 But when morning came I entered upon a day 
 which drove all thought of the mysterious bell 
 from my mind. I hope that I may never spend 
 another such twelve hours. It all grew out of the 
 desire to be of service to Mrs. Wilding. At the 
 breakfast table she asked me if I would perform 
 two tasks for her tasks which she herself dreaded 
 to undertake. Of course, I assured her of my 
 willingness to help her in any way I could. 
 
 "First," she said, playing nervously with her 
 fork, "is to put away Eloise's clothes. I spoke to 
 Vincent about them, and he wishes everything 
 given away except a few things which are to be 
 kept for Mariechen. It is my duty to attend to 
 this, I know, but I cannot bring myself to handle 
 the garments which are so closely associated with 
 
 Ejfv 
 
 my darling. Will you is it asking too much to
 
 140 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 desire you to do this for us for Mariechen and 
 me?" 
 
 "Certainly not," I answered. "I will begin di- 
 rectly after breakfast. And the other thing you 
 wanted done?" 
 
 "Is to go to the cemetery and see if they have 
 sodded the grave as Vincent directed. He sent me 
 word yesterday that he would like to have me see 
 to it. I suppose you will think me a very useless 
 somebody not, to do these things myself but, 
 Courtney, I dread it so " 
 
 "I know," I told her gently. "Don't worry 
 about it, dear Mrs. Wilding. I will see to it this 
 very afternoon." 
 
 We were about to leave the table when the door 
 leading from the pantry was flung open and Amer- 
 ica made an unceremonious entrance.
 
 AT 1:10 141 
 
 "Foh de Ian' sakes, Miss Co'tney, what kind of 
 gwines on is dese? Ghos'es in dis house an' ghos'es 
 in de rideabout barn, and burglars in we-all's 
 house." 
 
 "Burglars in our house? What in the world, 
 America?" 
 
 "Yas'm. In Mr. Nat's house dey wuz." Amer- 
 ica rolled her eyes with unction. "Sure as yo' 
 bawn, Miss Co'tney, dey been dar dis very night. 
 I went in yo' room dis mawnin' to air it out and 
 you jes ought to see whut I done seed! De desk 
 all open, and de drawers all emptied out an' de 
 debbil to pay sho. You-all jes come and look." 
 
 I acted upon her advice at once, assuring Mrs. 
 Wilding that I would return as soon as I had seen 
 to my affairs. 
 
 I found things as America had said. My desk
 
 142 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 had been ransacked, and the contents of both 
 chiffonier and dressing table emptied upon the 
 floor. I made a careful inspection of the confu- 
 sion but I could not see that a single article was 
 missing. My purse lay as I had placed it, in a 
 small inside drawer of the desk. To be sure, this 
 drawer was very tiny and unobtrusively placed, 
 but it seemed incredible that the thief should not 
 have found it, especially when he had the place 
 to himself for an unlimited length of time. 
 
 I decided the best thing to do was to summon 
 the police and I was on my way to the telephone 
 when I picked up a slip of paper which speedily 
 caused me to change my mind. It was a half 
 sheet of my own notepaper and it bore the single 
 word, "Ruenna," written over and over on it. 
 The writing was the same as that of the anony-
 
 AT 1:10 143 
 
 mous letters with which I had grown so unpleas- 
 antly familiar. As I stood looking at the minute 
 scrap pregnant with unuttered meaning Dr. Cuy- 
 ler's face rose before me white, drawn, marked 
 with unmistakable horror as I recalled it when 
 I had seen that name before. I realized suddenly 
 that this was no ordinary housebreaker who ig- 
 nored money but possessed himself of notepaper. 
 
 Who was Ruennaf The question beat upon my 
 brain with insistent force. A woman's name of 
 course. Was she young? Was she beautiful? 
 Above all what could she have been to Vincent 
 Cuyler? "Ask him about the other woman." For 
 the first time those letters began to assume im- 
 portance in my mind. 
 
 I put the bit of paper away and set about re- 
 storing order to the room. It would not do to
 
 144 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 call the police. They could give me no help in 
 this matter and it might well be that an inspec- 
 tion of the place would lead to some damaging evi- 
 dence against the doctor. I was wholly convinced 
 of his innocence; I was perfectly sure that noth- 
 ing really incriminating could be found against 
 him. And yet and yet I could not put the re- 
 membrance of his moment's terror from my mind. 
 
 I had dismissed America to her work some min- 
 utes before and I sought her now to warn her 
 against speaking of the burglary if one can call 
 it a burglary when nothing of value has been 
 taken then I went back to Mrs. Wilding. 
 
 I had not entered Eloise' room since she had 
 left it for the last tune. Involuntarily my eyes 
 travelled to the bed and then to the blue couch 
 where she had lain on that last sad day. Only
 
 AT 1:10 145 
 
 a rug before the bed made the room seem differ- 
 ent from the way I had seen it hundreds of times 
 before. But no gracious figure moved about here 
 now, no lovely voice bade me welcome as it had 
 so many times when I ran in for a morning chat. 
 All that was left to remind me of Eloise here were 
 her dainty garments and appurtenances and un- 
 der the rug a brown stain. 
 
 It was eyrie work handling those clothes. I 
 took from the drawers piles of fine lingerie and 
 sorted them out to the best of my ability. Her 
 ivory brushes and toilet furnishings I packed care- 
 fully away; her jewels I shut safely into a curi- 
 ous metal casket which stood on the dressing ta- 
 ble and left it there for her husband's disposal. 
 Then I went to the clothes closet and began re- 
 moving the gowns. Each had its intimate asso-
 
 146 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 elation with the wearer. There was the lavender 
 dimity that Eloise sometimes wore mornings; a 
 white crepe dinner gown; a black lace that had 
 formed a perfect setting for her fair beauty. I 
 lifted down the blue neglige I had seen on the foot 
 of her bed on that dreadful night and as I held it 
 for a moment in my arms I thought that in all pro- 
 bability it was the last gown my friend had ever 
 worn. 
 
 Was she happy when she donned it for that last 
 time? Was she thinking lovingly of her little 
 daughter's birthday on the morrow? And was her 
 heart warm with love for her husband because of 
 his thoughtful gift? I wondered where that brace- 
 let was now and if it was really for that Eloise 
 had been killed. It was a beautiful jewel and it 
 was not beyond the bounds of probability some
 
 AT 110 147 
 
 passerby had seen its brilliant sparkle and that 
 his cupidity had been excited. 
 
 I shook the gown gently to straighten out its 
 hanging folds, as I carried it toward the cedar 
 chest in which I meant to lay it. Was I mistaken 
 in thinking I had caught a gleam of gems in those 
 soft folds? I walked toward the window and ex- 
 amined the pretty thing carefully. There in a tiny 
 handkerchief pocket inside the gown was the 
 bracelet the sapphire bracelet that Vincent Cuy- 
 ler had given his wife. 
 
 So there had been no robbery! Had there been 
 no robber? My very soul sickened as I realized 
 what this admission implied. If it was not a 
 burglar, who then had killed Eloise? 
 
 Suddenly I thrust the bracelet hi the breast of 
 my gown. I would not tell of my discovery; until
 
 148 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 after the trial, at any rate, I thought fiercely. 
 There was enough damaging evidence against him 
 without this. 
 
 My silence and pallor when I came down stairs 
 were set down to the trying task I had just fin- 
 ished, and Mrs. Wilding was full of soft remorse 
 at having put this strain upon me. She was in- 
 sistent that I stay for luncheon but this I resolute- 
 ly declined. I felt that I must get away from this 
 house of tragedy and mystery for a time. And I 
 had yet to fulfill the second of Mrs. Wilding's re- 
 quests. 
 
 So I escaped to the haven of my home ; to the 
 reassuring presence of America, who touched by 
 my white face tucked me up on my couch, brought 
 me a bountiful lunch on a tray, and insisted with
 
 AT 1:10 149 
 
 autocratic kindness that I take a rest before going 
 out that afternoon. 
 
 I obeyed her willingly, for I had been pretty 
 well shaken up by the morning's work.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 BUENNA 
 
 The little sleep refreshed me and about three 
 o'clock I got out the Blue Jay and drove to the 
 cemetery. Mrs. Wilding had told me where to 
 find the grave, and I went directly to it. The men 
 were even then at work upon it, but I could see 
 as I reached the place that they had not accomp- 
 lished much. Indeed the flowers still lay, brown 
 and withered, in great, masses upon the mound, en- 
 tirely concealing the earth below. 
 
 "We're a little late getting at this job," one of 
 the men explained, touching his hat respectfully.
 
 RUENNA 151 
 
 and had to wait till we could get another load. But 
 we'll have this done in an hour, sure." 
 
 I stood watching them as they lifted off what 
 had so lately been exquisite blossoms. These they 
 tossed aside and began to loosen the earth, prepa- 
 ratory to placing the sod upon it. An exclamation 
 from one of the men startled me. I came nearer 
 and saw the man stoop and pick up some object 
 from the ground. 
 
 "My shovel struck against it," he said, and 
 handed it to me as though he recognized my right 
 to examine it. The object proved to be a pack- 
 age, wrapped in a fold of oilcloth and tied with a 
 string. Wondering, I broke the cord and bent 
 over what lay within. A photograph confronted 
 me. With a presentiment of what it was I hasti- 
 ly rewrapped it and spoke to the men.
 
 152 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "I will take this with me," I told them. "It is 
 something which must be given to the lady's hus- 
 band," and without waiting for their comments 
 or objections if they were minded to make any, I 
 walked away. But before I left the cemetery I 
 sought a bench under a tree in a secluded corner 
 and examined the picture with care. It was the 
 face of a woman a young and beautiful woman, 
 I should say. The eyes were large and expressive; 
 the lips full and a trifle sensuous; heavy masses 
 of dark hair crowned her head. The dress was hi 
 the fashion of some years ago; ten or twelve as 
 nearly as I could determine. The pasteboard be- 
 low had been cut away, undoubtedly to destroy 
 the name of the photographer and the city in 
 which it had been taken. I turned it over and on 
 the back were some words clear and black as
 
 RUENNA 153 
 
 though freshly written. As I recognized the hate- 
 ful writing which confronted me at every point I 
 could scarcely repress a shudder. The name was 
 "RUENNA," and underneath was written "THE 
 OTHER WOMAN." 
 
 Here was a clue with a vengeance. Not only 
 the name but the likeness of the woman in the 
 case. I thought despairingly that the toils were 
 certainly closing around Vincent Cuyler and I 
 seemed fated to be the instrument of his undoing. 
 If this should come to the notice of the Prosecut- 
 ing Attorney but he should never know of its 
 existence, I told myself with determination. I 
 would put it away with the sapphire bracelet and 
 the slip of paper I had found on my bedroom floor 
 that morning how long ago it seemed! and 
 when this trial was over and Dr. Cuyler walked
 
 154 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 among his friends a free and vindicated man, I 
 would give them into his care. So I planned con- 
 fidently; but even as I tied the string once more 
 about the oilcloth covering, a hand was extended 
 and a stern voice said, 
 
 "I'll take that, Mrs. Temple, if you please." 
 I turned with a start and my eyes met those of 
 Bailey, the detective. How long he had been be- 
 hind me I had no means of knowing. I after- 
 wards found that he had been watching me sha- 
 dowing, is the detestable way they put it, I be- 
 lieve ever since Dr. Cuyler was placed in jail. 
 He had followed me to the cemetery; had stood at 
 a little distance while I talked to the men; had 
 seen them give an object of some sort into my 
 hand; and then he had crept up behind me and 
 had tried to see over my shoulder what it was that 
 was occupying my earnest attention.
 
 RUENNA 155 
 
 It didn't take me long to recover from my aston- 
 ishment at seeing him and I was so angry that it 
 never occurred to me to feel afraid. 
 
 "I'll take that," he repeated. 
 
 "I think you won't," I told him coolly. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I will, my dear madam. That object 
 interests me immensely. You see, I saw where it 
 came from and it's certain to have some connec- 
 tion with the murder. So just hand it over and 
 save yourself trouble." 
 
 "What trouble? Do you mean to try to take it 
 from me by force? I think I wouldn't if I were 
 you. You look pretty soft," I told him cruelly. 
 "And if worst came to the worst I can always use 
 my lungs, you know. There is a man mowing the 
 grass not a hundred feet away." 
 
 "I'm not going to take it from you," he replied
 
 156 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 with annoyance. "I demand that you give it to 
 me in the name of the law," he finished pompous- 
 
 !y- 
 
 I laughed. 
 
 "Keep that sort of bravado for some ignorant 
 girl or frightened old woman. I know that you 
 have no authority to demand this. You are not 
 an officer yourself and even if you were you have 
 no papers which entitle you to make such a de- 
 mand. This package has been placd in my hands 
 to deliver to Dr. Cuyler and it will stay in my 
 care until I have fulfilled my trust. Now are you 
 satisfied that you will not get it? Then please 
 stand aside; I am going." 
 
 He opened and shut his mouth several times 
 but the words he wanted words which would 
 overwhelm me with the sense of my own audaci-
 
 RUENNA 157 
 
 ty and irreverence, would not come. I passed him 
 without a glance and walked hurriedly out of the 
 gate. Once in the Blue Jay I threw on the power 
 and sped swiftly down the boulevard. Over my 
 shoulder I saw the detective climb into the ma- 
 chine which was waiting for him and start after 
 me. He was following me actually he dared! 
 
 I led that miserable Bailey with his salt-pepper- 
 vinegar-mustard suit of clothes such a chase that 
 it is a thousand wonders I wasn't arrested for 
 speeding. Up one street and down another ; across 
 this avenue, down this lane, I went in my saucy 
 Blue Jay, while the other car came after me. To 
 his credit and that of his car I will say that I 
 wasn't far ahead of them at any tune but my 
 word! he was near nervous prostration before I 
 pulled up in front of my own house. It was un-
 
 158 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 dignified, as was forcibly brought to my attention 
 later, and I might have been killed in that mad 
 race. But when I parked the Blue Jay and de- 
 murely climbed my own steps, the sight of that 
 man's face was worth any risks that I had taken. 
 Rage, disgust, baffled desire for revenge all fought 
 for supremacy in his red countenance ; and though 
 I entered the library and sank into a chair on the 
 verge of exhaustion with all I had been through 
 since I got up that morning, I felt that I had had 
 at least one crumb of satisfaction in that trying 
 day.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 r 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 
 
 "Ghos'es in de rideabout barn." America's words 
 had made little impression on me at the time, but 
 I was soon to accord them deep respect. For sev- 
 eral days my rotund cook and self appointed guar- 
 dian had been throwing out hints as dark as her 
 face. Finally on Monday afternoon she came in- 
 to the living room and boldly broached the sub- 
 ject. 
 
 "Dey's ghos'es in de rideabout barn," she an- 
 nounced with portentuous solemnity. 
 
 "Oh, America," I said wearily. "What have you 
 go up your sleeve now?" 
 
 159
 
 160 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 She rolled apprehensive eyes in my direction. 
 
 "De good Lawd keep me fum gettin' anything 
 lak dat up ma sleeve," she muttered. "Go on and 
 laff at ole America if you lak, Miss Co'tney, but 
 dey sho is somepin mighty mysterious in dat air 
 barn." 
 
 "What is it like this time? Bells again?" 
 
 "No'm, hit ain't no bells dis time. Hit's lights! 
 Yas'm! Lights dat come an' go an' noises dat 
 ain't made by no human foots." 
 
 "When did you hear and see all this?" I in- 
 quired. 
 
 "I been seem' dat light for mos' a week, an* 
 las' night I wuz comin' in de back way from visit- 
 in' Mis' Newcome's Sallie, an' I heerd dat noise. 
 I tell you I ain't stoppin' none to see what makes 
 hit!"
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 161 
 
 "Why didn't you tell me about it then so I 
 could have investigated the matter?" 
 
 "Well, you see, Miss Co'tney, you done been 
 ober to Mis' Wilding's and when you come back 
 you look so tired lak, I 'low I won't bother you 
 none twell de zoological moment arrive, and hit 
 'pers to be now." 
 
 "Very well, America, I know about it. Tonight 
 I'll see if I can lay your ghost." 
 
 After she had gone I studied the matter with 
 some care. Allowing for America's exaggerated 
 view of what she had seen and heard I came 
 to the conclusion that there must be something 
 occurring in the garage of which I should know. 
 
 I am not sure that I have explained the situa- 
 tion of the garage. When the Cuylers bought the 
 place next to us they were obliged to build a garage
 
 162 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 for their car. Then N. P. decided to get a car and 
 he and the doctor built the garage together. It 
 was really one building, although his half stood 
 on his land and our half on ours, and there was 
 no communication between. A partition of heavy 
 boards separated them and the sliding doors 
 opened on each yard. This plan had not only 
 saved expense in building the garage but it had 
 taken up the minimum of space. Our side was 
 locked. That I knew for I had the key in my 
 purse; but to make sure I went down and exam- 
 ined the door. It was as I thought locked by a 
 padlock. I couldn't tell, of course, whether the 
 doctor's was secured or not, as the hedge entirely 
 separated the yards at this point. I went inside 
 our garage and looked around. The Blue Jay stood 
 perkily awaiting my pleasure, and N. P.'s dust coat
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 163 
 
 and cap hung on the wall. Worn out tires, heaps 
 of cotton waste, oil cans, in short, all the usual 
 appurtenances of a small garage were scattered 
 about, but as far as I could see there was nothing 
 to indicate that anyone but myself had entered 
 the place since N. P. left. 
 
 I closed and locked the door again and returned 
 to the house, but I made up my mind that I would 
 stroll out that way in the evening and see if I 
 could find the cause of America's mysterious lights 
 and noises. 
 
 I had visitors that evening and it was after ten 
 when they left. I had completely forgotten the 
 "ghos' " and it was the sight of America waddling 
 around on her nightly errand of locking doors and 
 windows that recalled it to me. 
 
 I slipped out the side door and walked toward
 
 164 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 the rear of the lawn. Even as I went, I saw a 
 thin ray of light through the high barred window 
 of the garage. It shone for a minute and then 
 disappeared. I was seized with an overpowering 
 impulse to flee to the house and I had taken sev- 
 eral hurried steps in that direction before I pulled 
 myself together and faced about the other way. I 
 crept close to the building and listened. From 
 within there came the faintest of noises. America 
 had not exaggerated. There was some one inside 
 who was moving stealthily about. 
 
 The light came and went fitfully. I judged it 
 was made by an intermittent flashlight. When I 
 had satisfied myself that I was not mistaken I ran 
 back to the house and called the police station. 
 This was an opportunity to investigate one mys- 
 tery, at any rate, unhindered by an old lady's mor-
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 165 
 
 bid fancies. I stated the case to the person who 
 answered my call and he assured me they would 
 have a cycle officer on the spot within ten min- 
 utes. It was barely that when I heard the explo- 
 sions of the motor as he came along at a terrific 
 rate of speed. 
 
 I was waiting for him at the front steps, chaper- 
 mmma 
 
 oned by America. I briefly explained the situa- 
 tion and handed the officer my key to the place. 
 Pistol in hand he walked out to the back yard and 
 up to the door of the garage, America and I skulk- 
 ing along at his heels. The "barn" was dark and 
 silent. The officer fitted the key into the lock and 
 then cautiously pulled open the door a crack. 
 
 "Come on out of there," he said in burly tones. 
 "I've got you covered, so don't try any funny busi- 
 ness. Get along out now!"
 
 166 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 There was no answer, no sound indeed but 
 America's excited gasps. The officer opened the 
 door wider, a bit at a tune, until he was able to 
 step inside. His flashlight searched every corner, 
 but nothing in the shape of a crouching and des- 
 perate intruder was to be seen. I called the offi- 
 cer's attention to the switch at the side of the door 
 and in a minute the place was flooded with light. 
 We entered and made an exhaustingly thorough 
 inspection, even poking the pile of waste in our 
 zeal. There was no doubt about it no one was 
 there. 
 
 "How do you suppose he got out?" I asked the 
 officer. He shook his head patronizingly. 
 
 "There wasn't no one here to get out, Miss. You 
 saw for yourself that the door was locked and 
 there's only that one window, too narrow for a
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 167 
 
 man to get through and too high up, and barred 
 besides." 
 
 "But there was some one here," I insisted stub- 
 bornly. "I tell you I saw a light and heard some- 
 body moving about." 
 
 "Now, Miss, he said hi a soothing tone, "let me 
 tell you how it was. You're all worked up and 
 nervous about that business next door and with 
 your husband gone and all, it's natural you should 
 be. Maybe you saw a light from some auto go- 
 ing by in the street and it shone in here and you 
 thought it came from inside. Now ain't that rea- 
 sonable?" 
 
 "But the noises? I suppose they didn't come 
 from the street?" 
 
 "They was probably caused by a rat inside. You 
 see there ain't no one here now and they ain't been
 
 168 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 no one, without they got through that locked door 
 and nothing but a ghost could do that." 
 
 America emitted a squeak and pulled at my 
 sleeve. 
 
 "Come on in, Miss Co'tney, chile, dere ain't no 
 use tryin' to ketch a ghos'. Let 'em alone, or yo'll 
 make 'em mad. Come on in de house ' 
 
 There seemed to be nothing else to do although 
 I was far from accepting the ghost theory. How- 
 ever, I thanked the officer, bade him goodnight 
 and returned to the house. After I had gone to 
 bed I lay thinking about the matter and I made 
 up my mind that I would do a little searching the 
 next night for myself. 
 
 Accordingly when morning came I went to the 
 cellar and dragged out a small step ladder used by 
 our chauffeur in cleaning the windows. I took the
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 169 
 
 opportunity to do this when America was busy 
 upstairs for I didn't want her to know what I in- 
 tended doing. I leaned this ladder not far from 
 the garage and waited for night to come. I told 
 America I would attend to the locking up that 
 evening and although she was very reluctant to 
 allow this, I sent her to bed before me. 
 
 At half past ten I slipped out of the house and 
 once more made my silent way to the garage. 
 Ah! There was the light again and the faint, 
 stealthy noise! I knew I had not been mistaken! 
 The triumphant consciousness of this made me 
 forget whatever nervousness I may have had at 
 first. 
 
 I picked up my ladder and carried it softly to 
 the window of the garage. Inch by inch I lowered 
 it against the side of the building, fearful that I
 
 170 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 would alarm the intruder by some sudden noise. 
 But I had it in place at last and the sounds with- 
 in continued. I gathered my skirts about me and 
 began the ascent of the ladder. It was somewhat 
 shaky and I thought every moment the thing 
 would topple over with me. I got to the top step 
 without mishap and leaned forward to look 
 through the window. All this time a dun but 
 steady light had been shining and the curious 
 scraping noise went on. The window was a little 
 above the level of my eyes and I grasped one of the 
 bars to pull myself up. At this moment the 
 zoological one, America would have said the 
 treacherous ladder lurched dizzily, and in striving 
 to regain my balance I overreached myself and 
 came crashing to the ground. 
 For a few minutes I thought I was killed, but
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 171 
 
 after a cautious inventory of my bones I decided 
 that with the exception of a few bruises and 
 scratches, physically I was as good as ever. Not so 
 my mental condition, however! I was mad clear 
 through as I realized that all hope of discovering 
 our nocturnal visitor was over, for that night at 
 least. The noise of my fall must have frightened 
 him away, although I found when I arose and went 
 to look, that the door was still tightly locked. 
 
 This time there was no incredulous policeman 
 or frightened cook to talk down my belief. In the 
 brief instant that I swayed on the top of the 
 ladder I had caught a glimpse of some dark object 
 within, which, partly concealed though it was by 
 the hood of the Blue Jay, I felt convinced was the 
 form of a man. He was croushed on the floor in 
 a listening attitude, and the faint light in the
 
 172 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 place came from the floor. Of these two facts I 
 was sure, and nothing could shake my conviction. 
 
 There was nothing further I could do about it 
 tonight. I reconnoitered cautiously around the 
 garage, looking for a possible clew to his entrance. 
 Only darkness and silence rewarded me. Long 
 after I had gone back into the house I puzzled 
 over the mystery. What was that man doing in 
 our garage? Why did he return there night after 
 night? Above all, how did he get into a perfectly 
 closed building? 
 
 I debated with myself what was the thing to 
 do next. Should I explain matters to the chief of 
 police and ask for a cordon of officers to surround 
 the house after ten o'clock? If they were all as 
 dense as the one I had had here the previous 
 evening they wouldn't be of much use, I thought 
 ruefully,
 
 THE MYSTERY OF THE GARAGE 173 
 
 Oh, if N. P. were only here! N. P. wouldn't 
 laugh at me and deride my burglar as a ghost. N. 
 P. knew that I wasn't an hysterical coward given 
 to conjuring terrors after nightfall. N. P. would 
 believe me when I said there was a man in the 
 garage, and N. P. would find a way to discover 
 that man, or something would have to give! 
 
 I fell asleep still undecided what course of action 
 to pursue, puzzled over it all the next day, and 
 when evening came again and brought no further 
 disturbance to the garage, no lights, no noises, 
 I concluded and told America that I had laid the 
 "ghost." Of course, my noisy fall had frightened 
 the intruder away. I hardly knew whether to 
 be glad or sorry. At any rate, it relieved me of 
 the necessity for immediate action; in the mean- 
 time I entertained the forlorn hope that N. P. 
 might still come home to my rescue.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 "MARIECHEN'S HORSIE" 
 
 One excitement tumbled on the heels of another 
 in those days! It was the next morning that I re- 
 ceived notification that Dr. Cuyler's trial was set 
 for the following Monday, July first, and that my 
 husband and I were subpoenaed as witnesses for 
 the defense. That was all very well for N. P. miles 
 and miles away and knowing precious little if he 
 did testify, but alas! poor me! I had been in 
 the thick of it from the very beginning, and was 
 primed with all sorts of damaging evidence which 
 I greatly preferred to share with no one. If only 
 I were in California or Kamschatka or Zululand 
 
 174
 
 MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 175 
 
 any place where I could escape from the whole 
 miserable mess. 
 
 No such luck for me, however. With a per- 
 fectly fatal tendency I had managed to be on the 
 spot every time a new development arose in the 
 now celebrated Cuyler case. It was foolish even to 
 hope that I could escape at this late hour. I re- 
 signed myself to the inevitable and began to plan 
 how little I could tell. 
 
 Mrs. Wilding received the news of the trial more 
 composedly than I had supposed she would. She 
 believed implicitly in Dr. Cuyler's innocence. It 
 was touching to see how absolutely she trusted 
 him. The shock of his arrest and the shame of 
 his confinement to jail had been a tragic thing 
 for her, but the trial itself she regarded as a sure 
 
 5T**f *" 
 
 means of his vindication. The sooner, then, that
 
 176 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 it began, the better, according to her point of view, 
 and I was thankful that she felt so. 
 
 I have often wondered if she knew the loath- 
 some rumors that were flying about the town con- 
 cerning her son-in-law and me. If she did, she 
 kept the knowledge to herself with fine delicacy. 
 She seldom read the newspapers, and she shrank 
 from any discussion of family affairs with an out- 
 sider, so it is possible she never knew. At any 
 rate, she trusted me through that wretched time 
 something that I still remember with gratitude. 
 
 "You spoil me dreadfully, Courtney, dear," she 
 said to me one day. "I'm getting to rely on you 
 for everything. But indeed I don't know what I 
 should do without you." 
 
 The remark was occasioned by my timely inter- 
 vention during a childish tantrum of Mariechen's.
 
 MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 177 
 
 I had heard her screaming from my yard, and 
 knowing how it distressed her grandmother, I 
 ran across the lawn in my composite role of peace- 
 maker, champion and protector. It is wonderful 
 to think what trivial circumstances lead to great 
 discoveries. I hadn't the slightest idea when I 
 went over that I was going for anything but the 
 purpose of quieting Eloise's baby, but as things 
 turned out, it was enough to make me embrace 
 the doctrine of predestination. 
 
 Mariechen is a perfect lamb most of the time, 
 but once in awhile she has a naughty fit, as all 
 children will. On this occasion she was crying 
 her heart out over a lost plaything which none 
 of the household could produce. 
 
 "Hush, hush, dear litle girl," Mrs. Wilding was 
 vainly pleading with her as I entered the room.
 
 178 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Her hands trembled as she turned to me, and her 
 delicate face was almost as red as the child's. 
 
 "0 my dear, I'm so glad to see you," she greeted 
 me. "Here's Mariechen making herself perfectly 
 sick over something she wants, and I don't know 
 where to find it for her." 
 
 "Why, darling," I exclaimed, "whatever is the 
 matter? Come here, you blessed baby, and tell 
 Auntie Court the trouble." 
 
 "I I want my horsie," Mariechen wailed at me. 
 "My dear pretty horsie what my Muwer let me 
 p'ay wiv." 
 
 "Your horsie, precious? Tell me where it is." 
 
 "I don't know where it is. I frowed it away 
 'cause it hurted me so bad." More tears and sobs. 
 "It was a bad horsie, and it bluggied up my nose, 
 so I didnt' like it for awhile. But now I want it, 
 I do, I do!"
 
 MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 179 
 
 I gathered the weeping baby into my arms 
 and looked inquiringly over her head, first at the 
 grandmother, then at the nurse-maid. 
 
 "Can't you find her rocking horse, Melba?" 
 
 "Don't want my wocking horsie; don't want 
 my gee gee ; don't want my aut'mobile ! " She cast 
 a scornful glance at the toys on the floor. "I want 
 my yiding horsie wiv the shiny head what used 
 to live in Daddy's closet. Muwer gived it to me 
 to yide on one day, but Melba won't give it to me 
 now. She's naughty, naughty Melba." 
 
 "Oh, she must mean a stick," I cried, light 
 breaking over me. "One of the doctor's walking 
 sticks. Haven't you seen it, Melba?" 
 
 Before she could answer Mariechen slipped 
 from my lap. 
 
 "I'll show you where I frowed it, Auntie Court,"
 
 180 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 She tugged at my hand. "It hit me in the face and 
 bluggied up my nose, so I frowed it away." 
 
 She ran to the window and pointed with insist- 
 ent finger. Suddenly an intuition seized me, so 
 strange, so wonderful I hardly dared entertain it. 
 Breathless with the thought, I hurried Mariechen 
 into the yard as fast as her fat legs could carry 
 
 her. 
 
 "Was it here you threw it, dear?" 
 
 "No, no!" She stamped with an impatient foot. 
 "Not here. I frowed it 'way over there." 
 
 It was as I had suspected. She pointed to the 
 weeds in the vacant lot where Dr. Cuyler had 
 thrown the dead snake and where the supposed 
 death instrument had been found. 
 
 I could hardly control myself as I stumbled on 
 the great discovery, but I managed to speak calmly 
 to the child. ' '"I" ~
 
 MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 181 
 
 "Well, Auntie Court will get your horsie pre- 
 sently," I assured her, "but first I want you to tell 
 me exactly how he looked. Did he have a long 
 black body and a silver head?" 
 
 "Yes, yes!" She bobbed her curls ecstatically. 
 "A booful shiny head." 
 
 Her tears were dried in anticipation but it was 
 some time before I was able to restore her treas- 
 ure to her. I hurried in to the telephone and 
 called up the office of the Prosecuting Attorney. 
 
 "This is Mrs. Temple, Mr. Lippman. Can you 
 come out to Dr. Cuyler's house at once? I have 
 some information for you." 
 
 My tone evidently aroused his curiosity for it 
 was not fifteen minutes before his machine buzzed 
 up to the door and he got out, accompanied by the 
 ubiquitous Mr. Bailey.
 
 182 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 I made Mariechen go over her story again, ex- 
 plaining and interpreting those terms which were 
 not understood by the men. I blessed Eloise for 
 the careful training she had given her little daugh- 
 ter. She was not a bit shy or tongue tied as so 
 many children are in the presence of strangers. I 
 could see that Mr. Lippman was impressed. 
 
 "That would account for the blood, you see," I 
 stammered in my excitement. "You believe the 
 child? You think her story is perfectly plausi- 
 ble?" 
 
 "It seems so," he admitted with some caution. 
 "But I'd like to try a simple test, if you don't 
 object. I'll have to take the little girl to my office 
 and I'd like you or her grandmother or both to go 
 along." 
 
 He looked at Mrs. Wilding and she in turn
 
 MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 183 
 
 looked at me. In the end of course we both went, 
 she to chaperon Mariechen and I to chaperon her. 
 I ran over home to get my hat and we started 
 down town at once. 
 
 The Prosecuting Attorney had two offices and 
 it was in the outer one that he bade us be seated 
 while he arranged matters to his liking within. 
 Presently he called to us and we went through the 
 door which closed behind us. A long table occu- 
 pied the center of the room. A desk, chairs and 
 a bookcase were the only other articles of furni- 
 ture. On the table and on the top of the closed 
 desk were scattered several objects umbrellas, 
 books, a yard stick and other things. 
 
 "Now, little lady," the attorney said hi what 
 he meant for a jocular tone, "you just look around 
 the place and see if you can find your horse."
 
 184 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 We watched in breathless silence while the big 
 brown eyes travelled around the room. Over the 
 table, the desk and the bookcase they searched, 
 lingered earnestly on the walls, studied the chairs. 
 Then with a gleeful shout the baby ran to a corner 
 of the room and snatched up something which she 
 hugged to her breast. 
 
 "Here's my horsie ! Mariechen's found her boo- 
 ful horsie!" 
 
 I turned to Mr. Lippman with, I fear, an air 
 of hardly concealed triumph. He was watching 
 the child meditatively, his gaze bent on the smart 
 walking stick which he had so fondly believed to 
 be the instrument of Dr. Cuyler's crime. 
 
 "This will make everything all right for Dr. 
 Cuyler, won't it?" I questioned excitedly. "How 
 soon will they dismiss the case against him?"
 
 MARIECHEN'S HORSIE 185 
 
 The Prosecuting Attorney gave me a pitying 
 glance. 
 
 "You didn't really think this would prove his 
 innocence, did you, Mrs. Temple? You're too 
 smart a woman for that. It simply shows that 
 one link in our chain of evidence is a false one; 
 but we have many others, Mrs. Temple, many 
 others!"
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 So it happened that Dr. Cuyler came to trial 
 on the following Monday. Mr. Brewer, the law- 
 yer for the defense, thought it best that Mrs. Wil- 
 ding should sit beside her son-in-law within the 
 enclosure, deeming the effect of her presence on 
 the jury a favorable one. The dear little lady 
 begged me so piteously to sit there with her that 
 I had not the heart to refuse, especially as Mr. 
 Brewer added his request to hers, but I realized 
 perfectly how the tongues of gossip would wag to 
 see me publicly allied on the side of Dr. Cuyler. 
 
 I will pass over the first few days of the case, 
 
 186
 
 THE TRIAL 187 
 
 filled as they were with the tiresome swearing in 
 of the jury. But the speech of the Prosecuting 
 Attorney I will give in part, for it astonished ev- 
 erybody, me most of all. 
 
 "The state will show," he said, standing upright 
 before the "twelve good men and true", "that for 
 some time there had been unhappiness between 
 the defendant and his wife. His profession carried 
 him largely among women. He was and is a 
 personable man and perhaps traded on his popu- 
 larity with the other sex to increase his practice. 
 His wife objected; objected to his being so much 
 with other women and especially to his friendship 
 for the wife of one of their near neighbors. The 
 state will show that upon the evening preceding 
 the murder Dr. Cuyler sat for some time in close 
 conversation with this woman, whose name I will
 
 188 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 not now mention, while the neglected wife was 
 brooding alone in the house. The evidence will 
 show that upon his entrance into the house she 
 reproached him for his conduct. That he retorted 
 with much bitterness. That she threatened to 
 sue for divorce. That he, knowing that such an 
 action would have a serious effect upon his pro- 
 fessional life, and in a fit of violent rage, struck her 
 repeatedly upon the head with some instrument 
 unknown to the court. That the scream which was 
 heard by Mr. and Mrs. Temple, their next-door 
 neighbors, was caused by her terror as she saw 
 him approaching her with intent to kill, and not 
 by any snake, as the defendant has claimed. That 
 the doctor then waited for a time, probably for an 
 hour, when he got out his car and drove about 
 for the purpose of later establishing an alibi. To
 
 THE TRIAL 189 
 
 further this end he stopped in a drug store and 
 ordered some medicines to be delivered at his of- 
 fice the next day. He spoke to two men who were 
 in the drug store, laughingly remarking that a 
 doctor's life was a hard one, thus calling to their 
 attention the facts of his appearance and profes- 
 sion, that they might afterwards testify to his be- 
 ing there at that hour. The evidence will show 
 that Mrs. Cuyler was not dead when he left her, 
 but that he, with the knowledge of anatomy he 
 possessed, was convinced that she would die within 
 an hour or so, and knowing that he left her, thus 
 making it appear to whatever medical aid was 
 summoned when he arrived that she had been 
 struck during his absence. But the evidence will 
 show that she lived until he returned ; was prob- 
 ably drawing her last breath as he came up the
 
 190 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 stairs. That he waited until he was certain she 
 was dead before summoning assistance. The state 
 will prove that after making the call upon his pa- 
 tient he became afraid that he had betrayed him- 
 self to that patient or his wife in some way per- 
 haps there were blood stains somewhere about 
 him; or perhaps he was in an uncontrollable state 
 of agitation. At any rate the patient one Peter 
 Rossbaum disappeared from the city and no 
 amount of search has ascertained his whereabouts. 
 It is known that the doctor drew out a sum of 
 money the afternoon previous to the murder and 
 that he has not satisfactorily accounted for its ex- 
 penditure ; the fact being without doubt that this 
 money was paid to Peter Rossbaum and his wife 
 on consideration that they disappear from the city 
 and remain away until after the murder had
 
 THE TRIAL 191 
 
 ceased to be a matter of public interest. All these 
 facts, gentlemen, the state will prove and the evi- 
 dence will show." 
 
 When he sat down I stole a glance at Eloise' 
 husband. He was sitting with folded arms, a 
 quiet, almost a pensive look upon his face; from 
 his expression one might have imagined he had 
 not heard a word of the Prosecuting Attorney's 
 speech. Mrs. Wilding on the contrary was tremb- 
 ling with indignation and I put my hand on her 
 arm soothingly. 
 
 The minor witnesses were called first. Two 
 neighbors living in the next block testified that 
 they had heard nothing on the night of the mur- 
 der until the police ambulance arrived; that they 
 had never known of there being snakes in the va- 
 cant lot next to the Cuylers' house. Nothing of
 
 192 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 importance was brought out by their testimony 
 one way or the other and they were not cross ex- 
 amined. 
 
 But when the fourth witness took the stand the 
 court room got a surprise. This was the manager 
 of the local telephone exchange and he testified 
 that it was the custom of the company after elev- 
 en o'clock at night, to keep a record of any call 
 for a private house. This was done, he explained, 
 to save people the annoyance of being roused from 
 their beds by a possible mistake. 
 
 "The number called for is written down and 
 the name of the person having that number is 
 found. Then the party calling is asked if he wish- 
 es to speak to that person rather than to that num- 
 ber. If he does, the call is given ; if he has mis- 
 taken the number he wishes, the mistake is point-
 
 THE TRIAL 193 
 
 ed out to him. In that way we know what calls 
 are made upon private houses after eleven 
 o'clock." 
 
 Pros. At. "And does that record show that a 
 call was sent in for the Cuyler home before one 
 o'clock on the night of June third?" 
 
 "There is no such call noted on my records." 
 
 This reply created a sensation. It was in re- 
 sponse to a telephone summons, the doctor had 
 said, that he had gone to see this Peter Rossbaum. 
 My heart sank as I saw this black mark being 
 placed upon the doctor's story and I looked eager- 
 ly at Mr. Brewer when he began a cross examina- 
 tion of this witness. 
 
 I believe I have said very little about Dr. Cuy- 
 ler's attorney. I was greatly disappointed when 
 I first saw him. He was a huge man, his chin
 
 194 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 hanging in pendulous folds upon his chest. He 
 sat with his finger tips barely meeting across his 
 vast front, his head down and his eyes peering 
 over his spectacles. After a bit I observed that 
 this quiet, intent gaze seemed to disconcert some 
 of the witnesses and that they floundered in their 
 testimony. He began with the telephone manager 
 in a manner misleadingy bland. 
 
 Q. "Now, Mr. White, you say that such a 
 record is kept in the telephone office such a 
 record as you describe?" 
 
 A. "I do. It is." 
 
 Q. "Where is it kept? I mean in what part 
 of the building?" 
 
 A. "In my own office." 
 
 Q. "And in consulting that record at the in- 
 stance of the Prosecuting Attorney you found no
 
 THE TRIAL 195 
 
 record of a call having been sent into Dr. Cuyler's 
 home after eleven and before one o'clock on the 
 night in question?" 
 
 A. "I found no such record." 
 
 Q. "Now, Mr. White, you say this rule applies 
 to private houses only. Not to hotels, or restaur- 
 ants, or the police station?" 
 
 A. "No, it does not apply to them." 
 
 Q. "But it does apply to private houses?" 
 
 A. "Yes, sir." 
 
 Q. "To all private houses?" 
 
 A. "Well, not to all, no, sir." 
 
 Q. "Ah, not to all, eh? Well, to whose houses 
 does it not apply?" 
 
 A. "To the houses of nurses and the chief of 
 police and " 
 
 Q. "Goon. And"
 
 196 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 A. "To the homes of physicians." 
 
 Q. "Just so.; to the homes of physicians. And 
 Dr. Cuyler is a physician?" 
 
 A. "I believe he is." 
 
 Q. "You know he is. Therefore there would 
 have been no record made your report would not 
 show if there had been a dozen calls at Dr. Cuy- 
 ler's home that night?" 
 
 A. "I suppose not." 
 
 Q. "Very good, Mr. White. Now, just one 
 more question. Is it not a fact that you were 
 dropped from the Country Club of which Dr. Cuy- 
 ler was at that time president because of a little 
 ah, indiscreetness, shall we say? in a game of 
 cards?" 
 
 A. "I was dropped from that club, yes, sir." 
 
 Q. "Well, well, we all have our little longing
 
 THE TRIAL 
 
 for retaliation," the attorney for the defense re- 
 marked benevolently and dismissed the discom- 
 fited witness with a wave of his pudgy hand. There 
 was a general smile through the room. The Prose- 
 cuting Attorney did not smile, however. He had 
 hoped a good deal from this promising bubble and 
 it had been punctured with ease by this irritating 
 lawyer. 
 
 The next witness was a woman I had never seen 
 before a Mrs. Miller who gave her address in 
 the extreme opposite part of town. She testified 
 that she had sat behind the Cuylers in the theatre 
 at a certain date, and had heard Mrs. Cuyler re- 
 proach her husband for his attentions to other wo- 
 men. She declared that the doctor was very 
 angry; had looked "as though he could kill his 
 wife." Personally I don't believe the woman ever
 
 198 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 saw Eloise in her life but she made a strong wit- 
 ness for the state as she clung to her story through 
 the fire of cross examination. 
 
 A Dr. Hillboro was called next. He stated that 
 he had seen the defendant the night of the mur- 
 der, somewhere about twelve o'clock, "driving like 
 mad, three miles north of the city, his face pale 
 and set and his manner intent." Questioned as to 
 his own reason for being at that place at such an 
 hour he said that he had been to see a patient and 
 was returning home. The patient was next called 
 and confirmed Dr. Hillboro's story of having been 
 at place named at the hour and date stated by 
 him. As the road mentioned was far away from 
 the residence of Peter Rossbaum, I could see that 
 this fact made an unfavorable impression on the 
 jury.
 
 THE TRIAL 199 
 
 I had been summoned of course as a witness for 
 the defense, so it was with the greatest surprise 
 mingled with some fear, that I heard my own 
 name called at this juncture. I walked the short 
 distance to the witness stand as firmly as I could 
 and after being sworn I took my seat. I faced 
 the room and up to this time I had not realized 
 how crowded it was. The aisles were jammed and 
 there were people leaning all around the sides of 
 the room. For a few moments it seemed to me 
 that all those eyes were charging me with the mur- 
 der, but I soon became so occupied with the storm 
 of questions hurled upon me by the Prosecuting 
 Attorney tljat I no longer saw them. I give the 
 report of my examination as it stood in the pa- 
 pers: 
 
 Q. "State your name."
 
 200 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 A. "Courtney Temple; Mrs. N. P. Temple." 
 
 Q. "Where do you live, Mrs. Temple?" 
 
 A. "At 452 Ashland Boulevard." 
 
 Q. "And you were living there at the time of 
 the murder, June fourth?" 
 
 A. "I was." 
 
 Q. "That is next door to the Cuylers' home?" 
 
 A. "It is." 
 
 Q. "You know this defendant?" 
 
 A. "I do." 
 
 Q. "How long have you known him?" 
 
 A. "I have known him for perhaps eight or 
 nine years." 
 
 Q. "That is, before his marriage?" 
 
 A. "Yes." 
 
 Q. "And before he began to practice in this 
 city?"
 
 THE TRIAL 201 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "How long had you known Mrs. Cuyler?" 
 
 A. "I think it is six years; since she came here 
 a bride." 
 
 Q. "You were on friendly terms with Mrs. 
 Cuyler?" 
 
 A. "Very friendly terms." 
 
 Q. "And with Dr. Cuyler?" 
 
 A. "Yes." 
 
 Q. "You have been associated with him in 
 philanthropic work?" 
 
 A. "I have; yes." 
 
 Q. "Was Mrs. Cuyer interested hi this work 
 also?" 
 
 A. "In some of it, yes." 
 
 Q. "But not in all of it?" 
 
 A. "No. You see, hi some "
 
 202 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Q. "Just answer the question I asked, please, 
 Mrs. Temple." 
 
 A. "Not in all of it." 
 
 Q. "Now, Mrs. Temple, will you please tell the 
 jury whether your friendship with Dr. Cuyler was 
 greater than with Mrs. Cuyler?" 
 
 Mr. Brewer: "I object to that question, your 
 honor. He has no right to ask it." 
 
 The Court: "Objection overruled. Witness may 
 answer the question." 
 
 A. "There was no difference in the degree of 
 my friendship with the Cuylers. I was friendly 
 with both." 
 
 Q. "But being associated with Dr. Cuyler in 
 this work closely associated as you were, you 
 would naturally become more friendly with him 
 than with his wife, would you not?"
 
 THE TRIAL 203 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "No? Why wouldn't you?" 
 
 A. "Because I was much more closely asso- 
 ciated with Mrs. Cuyler. I sometimes did not 
 see the doctor for several days at a time, but I 
 rarely passed a day without paying Mrs. Cuyler 
 a visit or receiving one from her." 
 
 Q. "And you think that Mrs. Cuyler returned 
 your friendship?" 
 
 A. "I am confident of it." 
 
 Q. "Now, Mrs. Temple, on the night that 
 Mrs. Cuyler was murdered, I believe that you 
 were the first person to enter her room after the 
 murder, were you not?" 
 
 A. "With the exception of Dr. Cuyler, yes. 
 My husband was just behind me." 
 
 Q. "Will you tell the jury, Mrs. Temple, in 
 what condition you found the defendant?"
 
 204 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 A. "He seemed dazed." 
 
 Q. "Did you regard his behavior as usual under 
 the circumstances?" 
 
 A. "I cannot answer that question." 
 
 Q. "Cannot? Why?" 
 
 A. "Because I do not know what is the usual 
 behavior under such circumstances. I have never 
 before seen a man in the presence of his murdered 
 wife." 
 
 Q. "Ah yes. All right, Mrs. Temple. Now 
 please state to the jury what were Dr. Cuyler's 
 words on that occasion?" 
 
 A. "He did not say anything that I know 
 of until my husband suggested moving Mrs. Cuy- 
 ler, and the doctor said, as nearly as I can re- 
 member, 'Don't touch her. She is dead.' ' 
 
 Q. "And is that all he said?"
 
 THE TRIAL 205 
 
 A. "No ; I think he added, 'I was sure of that 
 before I called you.' ' 
 Q. "Was sure, or made sure?" 
 A. "I don't know which word he used." 
 Q. "If you searched your memory very care- 
 fully, don't you think you could tell?" 
 
 A. "To the best of my recollection, he said 
 was sure." 
 
 Q. "And it didn't strike you as being strange 
 that he used such an expression at the time?" 
 A. "Certainly not. He is a physician." 
 Q. "Now, Mrs. Temple, did you or did you 
 not take Dr. Cuyler for a drive hi your own motor 
 car on the afternoon preceding his arrest?" 
 A. "I did." 
 
 Q. "What was your purpose in doing so?" 
 A. "I wished to consult him on various matters
 
 206 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 concerning his family life, and I did not want 
 to go to his office or ask him to my home." 
 
 Q. "I see. Well, Mrs. Temple, will you tell 
 us what you talked about during that drive?" 
 
 A. "Various matters. I cannot recall them 
 all." 
 
 Q. "But you can recall some of them, can you 
 not?" 
 
 A. "Yes. We discussed the advisability of 
 sending the doctor's little girl away to the sea- 
 shore for a time, but decided it would be better 
 for her to remain where she was if her grand- 
 mother, Mrs. Wilding, would stay with her." 
 
 Q. "And what else?" 
 
 A. "We talked about my husband's journey 
 and Dr. Cuyler spoke of his not having looked 
 well lately."
 
 THE TRIAL 207 
 
 Q. "And what else?" 
 
 A. "I believe Dr. Cuyler asked me to care for 
 his wife's garden and to send the flowers to the 
 hospital, as she had been in the habit of doing." 
 
 Q. "Was that the extent of your conversa- 
 tion?" 
 
 A. "No, we talked a bit longer, but I cannot re- 
 member just what was said." 
 
 Q. "Let me see if I cannot refresh your mem- 
 ory. Was there not mention made of some letters 
 anonymous letters received by you?" 
 
 A. "I believe there was." 
 
 Q. "Ah, strange you didn't remember that be- 
 fore, wasn't it? Now, about those letters, Mrs. 
 Temple. Where did you obtain them?" 
 
 A. "The first one was given to me by Mrs. 
 Wilding, who said a man had handed it in at
 
 208 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 the door. The second I took from Dr. Cuyler's 
 small daughter, to whom it had been given by a 
 strange man." 
 
 Q. "You will tell the jury, Mrs. Temple, the 
 purport of those letters?" 
 
 A. "They contained ridiculous hints of another 
 
 woman." 
 
 Q. "Please leave out the adjective. It grows 
 out of your own opinion, not the facts. Now 
 what did you do with those letters?" 
 
 A. "I gave them to Dr. Cuyler." 
 
 Q. "You gave them do I understand you, 
 Mrs. Temple, that you gave them to the defend- 
 ant in this case, and not to the proper authori- 
 ties?" 
 
 A. "Dr. Cuyler was not then the defendant in 
 the case, and I considered him the proper person 
 to have them."
 
 THE TRIAL 209 
 
 Q. "What did he say when you told him of 
 the or gave them to him?" 
 
 A. "He expressed his regret that I should have 
 been annoyed, but said he didn't attach very much 
 importance to them." 
 
 Q. "What did he do with these letters?" 
 
 A. "He put them in his pocket, I think." 
 
 Q. (Producing letters) "Are these the let- 
 ters?" 
 
 A. "Yes, I am sure they are." 
 
 Q. "Very good. Now, Mrs. Temple, I want 
 you to tell me about the visit you paid to the 
 cemetery June twenty-first, wasn't it?" 
 
 A. "I went there on that date." 
 
 Q. "Not since then?" 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "For what purpose did you go at that 
 time?"
 
 210 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 A. "I went at the request of Mrs. Wilding to 
 see if Mrs. Cuyler's grave had been sodded as 
 Dr. Cuyler had ordered." 
 
 Q. "And had it?" 
 
 A. "Not when I arrived. The men were just 
 beginning the work." 
 
 Q. "You stood and watched them for a tune?" 
 
 A. "I did." 
 
 Q. "And one of the men took some object from 
 the earth on the grave and gave it to ysff?" 
 
 A. "He did." 
 
 Q. "What was that object?" 
 
 A. "It was a photograph wrapped in oilcloth." 
 
 Q. "And what did you do with the photo- 
 graph?" 
 
 A. "I took it home with me." 
 
 Q. "Did you refuse to surrender it to Mr. 
 Bailey, a detective?" 
 
 A. "I did. He had no authority."
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE TRIAL CONTINUED 
 
 Here I must resort to my own words to describe 
 what followed. I had expected to be questioned 
 about the photograph, and I was resolved to de- 
 scribe it in such a way that, while not deviating 
 from the truth, I would leave the court and the 
 doctor completely in the dark concerning the 
 identity of the woman. But I reckoned without 
 the Prosecuting Attorney. To my horror, he 
 took from the table before him a brown paper 
 package which, being unwrapped, disclosed the 
 very picture I had left safely locked in my desk 
 that morning. I learned afterwards that an offi- 
 
 211
 
 212 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 cer, armed with a search warrant, had entered the 
 house and in spite of America's angry protests 
 had gone straight to the desk and obtained not 
 only the photograph but the sapphire bracelet as 
 well. Mr. Lippman required me to identify the 
 picture as the one I had brought away from the 
 cemetery, and then he turned it slowly in the di- 
 rection of Dr. Cuyler. 
 
 There was a breathless hush as the defendant 
 leaned slightly forward to look at it. There had 
 been only an expressionless calm upon his face 
 up to this time he had not even evinced a curiosity 
 to see the features of the woman whose likeness 
 had been interred in his wife's grave. But as he 
 obtained a clear view of the picture he started 
 from his chair with a low exclamation. 
 
 There was a significant pause. The state's at-
 
 THE TRIAL CONTINUED 213 
 
 torney was far too clever a lawyer to mar the ef- 
 fect of that revelation by a single word. He merely 
 laid aside the photograph and turned to me once 
 more. 
 
 Q. "Will you tell the jury, Mrs. Temple, if 
 you remember seeing the sapphire bracelet which 
 Dr. Cuyler gave his wife on the evening of her 
 death?" 
 
 A. "I do." 
 
 Q. "When did you see it?" 
 
 A. "I saw it on Mrs. Cuyler's arm as we stood 
 talking by the hedge. She removed it and handed 
 it to me to examine." 
 
 Q. "And that was the last you ever saw of it?" 
 
 There was a pause. Almost I determined to an- 
 swer "Yes," but the thought of the oath I had 
 taken before I sat in that chair prevented.
 
 214 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "No," I replied, "I have seen it since." 
 
 The stir in the court room showed the awakened 
 interest of the spectators. Truly I was proving an 
 exciting witness. 
 
 Q. "I will ask you to tell the jury when and 
 under what circumstances?" 
 
 A. "I was putting away some of Mrs. Cuyler's 
 clothing at the request of her mother, and I found 
 the bracelet in an inside pocket of the gown she 
 last wore." 
 
 Q. "When did you find this?" 
 
 A. "On June twenty-first; the morning of the 
 day I went to the cemetery." 
 
 Q. "Did you show the bracelet to Mrs. Wild- 
 ing?" 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "Did you notify the Prosecuting Attor- 
 ney?"
 
 THE TRIAL CONTINUED 215 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "Or the counsel for the defense?" 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "In fact, you did not tell anyone of this 
 discovery?" 
 
 A. "No." 
 
 Q. "Where did you put this bracelet?" 
 
 A. "In the desk in my bedroom." 
 
 Q. "Now, Mrs. Temple, knowing that the loss 
 of this bracelet was a strong indication that bur- 
 glarly had been committed and that Mrs. Cuyler 
 had been murdered in defense of this jewel, you 
 allowed the recovery of this bracelet to remain 
 unknown knowing as you did that it removed 
 all idea of there having been a burglar?" 
 
 A. "The question is somewhat involved, but I 
 suppose I did know that it proved there had been 
 no robbery."
 
 216 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Q. "And no robber?" 
 
 Objection offered by the defense on the ground 
 that the question called for an opinion and not 
 a fact. Objection overruled. 
 
 A. "I did not I do not know there was no 
 robber." 
 
 Q. "But you think it is likely?" 
 
 Another objection by Mr. Brewer, but before he 
 had completed it I had already replied: 
 
 A. "I have no opinion on the subject that I 
 wish to offer." 
 
 Q. "Now, Mrs. Temple, realizing that by re- 
 moving the idea of a robber, the evidence against 
 Dr. Cuyler was materially strengthened, why did 
 you conceal that bracelet?" 
 
 A. "I do not admit that it strengthens any 
 evidence against Dr. Cuyler."
 
 THE TRIAL CONTINUED 217 
 
 Q. "Then why did you conceal it?" 
 
 A. "I was waiting for the return of my hus- 
 band to obtain his advice as to what I had better 
 do with it." 
 
 Q. "Have you written Mr. Temple about it?" 
 
 A. "I have not." 
 
 Q. "And yet you tell this jury that you wished 
 his opinion about the disposal of the bracelet?" 
 
 A. "I did, and I do." 
 
 Q. "That is all, Mrs. Temple for the present. 
 I shall recall you to the stand later." 
 
 I sat down with a hopeless feeling that I had 
 injured Dr. Cuyler's case irreparably. I had made 
 it perfectly evident to everybody that I had con- 
 cealed the photograph and the bracelet because 
 I believed their appearance would implicate 
 Eloise's husband. I couldn't explain indeed, I
 
 218 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 woudn't have been allowed to if I had wished 
 that it was because of what they seemed to imply, 
 not because I believed there was any real guilt 
 in their presence, that I had not turned them over 
 to the state's attorney. All in all, I had done 
 quite as much damage as I feared I would. Oh, 
 if I only hadn't had to testify! 
 
 I was the last witness on the third day of the 
 trial, and when court adjourned it was openly 
 said among the spectators that the case against 
 Dr. Cuyler looked very dark indeed. Mrs. Wild- 
 ing and I were allowed to speak to him for a mo- 
 ment after the curious throng had pressed out. 
 
 "I'm afraid I've played the mischief with your 
 case," I told him with a flippant attempt to cover 
 my emotion. Dr. Cuyler's dark eyes met mine 
 with a look of understanding.
 
 THE TRIAL CONTINUED 219 
 
 "You're true blue, Courtney," he replied, "but 
 you couldn't help yourself this morning." 
 
 It didn't occur to me until I was nearly home 
 that he had never called me Courtney before. 
 Poor, poor Dr. Cuyler! I didn't care what he 
 called me, but I couldn't help wondering if Mr. 
 Lipman had overheard and attached his custom- 
 ary significance to a quite insignificant fact. "Give 
 a dog a bad name and hang him." I was applying 
 the proverb to my own troubles, but a shudder 
 passed over me as I realized how truly it applied to 
 Dr. Cuyler. An icy lump settled in my breast as 
 I parted from Mrs. Wilding and thankfully retired 
 to my own home to hide my head.
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 N. P/S BETUBN 
 
 That evening at dinner I received a belated 
 message from N. P. announcing that he would be 
 home in the morning. I was of two minds about 
 going to meet him. The train got in at seven 
 thirty, and the early hour would have been suffi- 
 cient excuse for not going if I had cared to use it, 
 but I knew from his telegram that he hoped to 
 find me waiting in the Blue Jay. It would have 
 been the best possible way to placate him. The 
 day after that sensational account in the paper I 
 would have been down on the platform in his 
 favorite frock, my hair done in the tame little 
 
 fashion he likes best, when the tram pulled in. 
 
 220
 
 N. P.'S RETURN 221 
 
 But three weeks had elapsed since then; three 
 weeks of strange, chilling conduct on N. P.'s part 
 and of worry and trouble on mine, and I was on 
 my dignity. So I sent a taxi to the station and 
 waited leisurely at home to receive him. 
 
 America had a wonderful breakfast to welcome 
 him, waffles and broiled chicken, and I don't know 
 what all. She invariably kills the fatted capon 
 when he comes home, though after he has been 
 back a day or two she relapses into her customary 
 habits, queer, dear, exasperating old soul that 
 she is. 
 
 I managed to delay my toilet so that I was 
 just pinning my belt when the taxi drove up to 
 the porte cochere. I peeked through the curtain, 
 and the moment N. P. stepped into view I knew 
 that something had happened. He was thin for
 
 222 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 him so that his clothes hung queer and loose. 
 Then he had the men carry in his heavy suitcase, 
 a most extraordinary performance for N. P., who 
 is the kind that always carries his own loads and 
 often other people's, too. 
 
 I heard his hearty greeting to America, then 
 the usual question 
 
 "Where's Miss Courtney?" and I left my dig- 
 nity behind as I ran downstairs to meet him. I 
 found him in his favorite leather chair in the liv- 
 ing room, fanning himself with his hat and pant- 
 ing a little. His face startled me, it was so hollow 
 cheeked and had such dark circles under the eyes. 
 
 "N. P., you've been sick and never told me," 
 I accused him as I flung myself into his arms. 
 
 He held me close and patted me gently as if I 
 were a little girl.
 
 N. P.'S RETURN 223 
 
 "There, Courtney, it's all right. Nothing to 
 worry about now. Bless your sweet heart, I'm 
 glad to see you again!" 
 
 It was hard to get a full confession from him. 
 He was just out of the hospital, he admitted, after 
 an operation for appendicitis; a little shaky but 
 perfectly all right, he explained, and with a clean 
 bill of health from the doctor in San Francisco. 
 The details I had to drag out of him by the 
 hardest. 
 
 He had been seized with a severe attack the day 
 after he arrived in California, he told me. The 
 doctor had pronounced it appendicitis and hustled 
 him off to a hospital, assuring him that an im- 
 mediate operation was imperative. There was 
 no time to send for me, so in order to save me anx- 
 iety N. P. had conceived the brilliant idea of dis-
 
 224 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 patching a series of his usual messages, just as 
 if nothing were the matter. 
 
 He wrote them all out before he went to the 
 operating room, and arranged at the hosptal to 
 have one sent every day while he was there. He 
 chuckled as he told me of his astuteness, but it 
 struck me in a different way. I swallowed hard 
 as I thought of his unselfish consideration for me 
 at such a tune. 
 
 "Oh, N. P.," I cried. "I'm so ashamed I could 
 eat the dust. If you knew all that's been going on 
 here, and how hurt and indignant I've been that 
 you didn't pay any attention to me!" 
 
 "I know now," N. P. said grimly, "but I didn't 
 get hold of a paper until the day I came out of 
 the hospital. Then I took the first train for 
 home."
 
 N. P.'S RETURN 225 
 
 "Didn't get hold of a paper?" I echoed him. 
 "Why, I supposed you had them every day. That's 
 why I was so surprised and mad." 
 
 "I was mad, too." A whimsical smile edged 
 along the stern line of his mouth. "You see, it 
 was a Catholic hospital, and they had a lot of 
 darn fool rules and regulations; wouldn't let a 
 patient have the newspapers, for one thing too 
 stimulating, they said. The Sisters make good 
 nurses, but my Lord! they're worse than America 
 to get around. I tried to persuade and threaten, 
 and even to bribe them, but I might as well have 
 approached Bunker Hill Monument. As long as 
 I was on my back I was helpless in their clutches." 
 
 There was something so ludicrous in the picture 
 of N. P. being bulldozed by a Catholic Sister that 
 I burst out laughing. But the thought of his re-
 
 226 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 cent danger and my childish lack of faith in him 
 sobered me again. I might have known there 
 was some good reason for his conduct. N. P. 
 never had failed me before when I needed him. 
 Why couldn't I have trusted him? 
 
 "You don't look to me as if you had any busi- 
 ness to be out of bed," I told him sternly. "Why 
 didn't you stay in California until you were 
 stronger, and let me come out to take care of 
 you?" 
 
 "I expected to do that, but the minute I got 
 wind of Cuyler's troubles I changed my mind. 
 I thought the place for me was right here. Then 
 you know I had to come anyway when I was sub- 
 poenaed." 
 
 "Of course. I hadn't thought of that." I stole 
 a sidelong glance at him. "What what do you
 
 N. P.'S RETURN 227 
 
 think about it all?" I volunteered the sheepish 
 question. Oh, what a hideous position I was in, 
 smirched, as I felt, in N. P.'s eyes. 
 
 "What do I think?" He flung around towards 
 me with his customary vigor. "I think it's a 
 damned outrage, that's what I think ! I beg your 
 pardon, Courtney," he added as an afterthought. 
 "I forgot myself for a moment." 
 
 "I don't care if you forget yourself again. Some- 
 body ought to swear about it, and of course I can't. 
 Oh, N. P., tell me truly, you don't blame me?" 
 
 I hadn't meant to ask him any such thing, but 
 somehow the question burst from my lips. My 
 husband looked at me a moment as though he 
 hadn't heard me aright. 
 
 "Blame you, child?" he asked in a puzzled way. 
 "What for?"
 
 228 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Didn't you see that awful article in the Gazette 
 about Dr. Cuyler and me ?" I faltered. 
 
 A sudden change passed over N. P.'s face ; kind 
 and good as he is, he looked for the moment as 
 implacable as an Indian. His big fist clenched in 
 sudden passion. 
 
 "Yes, I saw it," he admitted. "I'll see Adams 
 about it, too, in good time. The low-down, sneak- 
 ing cur!" He broke off abruptly and checked his 
 rising wrath. "We won't talk about him now. He's 
 hardly worth the powder to blow him up." 
 
 I was so relieved that I couldn't speak for a 
 moment. N. P. looked at me, and then I think he 
 understood. 
 
 "My poor little girl!" he said softly, and I went 
 straight into his arms again. 
 
 "Don't let's talk about me, either," I urged,
 
 N. P.'S RETURN 229 
 
 pressing my head close to his breast. "I've been a 
 thousand different kinds of a fool, and you're the 
 best, the dearest " 
 
 "You-all comin' to breakfus' dis mawnin'?" 
 America inquired from the dining room. "De 
 chicken's 'bout burnt up while you-all's lalligagin 
 in dar."
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 THE IRIS HEDGE 
 
 N. P. insisted on going down to the court room 
 as soon as he had swallowed breakfast. I was 
 not to be recalled until the next morning, but I 
 went along as usual to sit with Mrs. Wilding. It 
 makes me smile even now when I think of the stir 
 that N. P.'s entrance into the court room caused 
 that morning. 
 
 He marched boldly inside the inclosure, ex- 
 changed a warm handclasp with Dr. Cuyler, made 
 a great fuss about the placing of my chair, and 
 then turned a truculent gaze on the Prosecuting 
 Attorney. It was so exactly the look of a boy 
 
 230
 
 THE IRIS HEDGE 231 
 
 who squares his shoulders, doubles his fists and 
 yells, "Come on!" that for an instant it seemed 
 as if the state's attorney would accept the chal- 
 lenge. I watched them out of the tail of my eye 
 with a demure enough expression, but secretly I 
 was gloating over my big, whole-hearted cham- 
 pion. 
 
 "Oh, you don't know what a blessed relief it is 
 to have you home," I said to him for the hun- 
 dredth time that evening when we were enjoying 
 an after-dinner stroll about the yard. N. P. 
 beamed at my remark. I had been telling him 
 all the hair-raising experiences I had been through 
 in his absence, beginning with the anonymous 
 letters and ending with my tumble off the step- 
 ladder the night I tried to lay America's "ghos' '' 
 in the garage.
 
 232 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Miss the old man a little, did you, eh?" he in- 
 quired comfortably. "Strikes me somebody's been 
 pretty plucky through it all, anyway." 
 
 "Part of the time it was just a bluff. Mrs. 
 Wilding's afraid of her shadow, poor little dear, 
 and somebody had to be brave. But I've done 
 about all of it I care to, thank you. From now on 
 I'm going to hide behind your coat-tails every 
 time anybody says 'scat/ and I'm never going to 
 let you get an inch away from me again." 
 Arm in arm, we sauntered across the grass, laugh- 
 ing at my foolishness. Our vagrant footsteps 
 brought us close to the iris hedge. With the mem- 
 ory of that starry night a month ago when Eloise 
 had stood here with me, my light-hearted mood 
 vanished. 
 
 "It was just here that I saw Eloise alive for
 
 THE IRIS HEDGE 233 
 
 the last time," I voiced the thought that often 
 came to me. "She did look so adorable that night, 
 like a beautiful flower herself among all these sil- 
 very blue blossoms. Oh, N. P., why do you suppose 
 anyone would want to kill her, so lovely and so 
 gracious, so charitable towards every soul? I don't 
 believe I ever heard her speak an unkind word 
 of anybody in all the time I knew her." 
 
 N. P. was idly poking in the hedge with his 
 stick, and made no attempt to answer. He too had 
 been fond of Eloise. I knew by his silence how 
 deeply my words had touched him. We moved 
 along down the hedge, his stick waving in and out 
 among the long, swordlike leaves. 
 
 "I believe she loved this hedge better than any- 
 thing in the whole garden," I continued my 
 mournful reverie. "I was really glad when it
 
 234 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 stopped blooming, the fragrance reminded me so of 
 her and I couldn't get away from it. It's all so 
 suggestive of her awful death." 
 
 A sudden shiver ran over me. 
 
 "Don't think about it." N. P. patted my shoul- 
 der. "Let's get away from here if that's the way 
 it makes you feel. Hello, what's this?" 
 
 The silver tip of his cane had come in contact 
 with some hard object, and a curious metallic 
 sound resulted. He stooped and patted the dense 
 leaves. 
 
 "What the dickens?" 
 
 I bent over to see what he had brought to light. 
 
 "What is it?" I asked, straining my eyes through 
 the rapidly-falling dusk. 
 
 "Seems to be some kind of a vase," N. P. re- 
 plied.
 
 THE IRIS HEDGE 235 
 
 "A vase? Eloise's vase!" I cried with swift in- 
 tuition. We examined it a moment in startled 
 silence. It was indeed the bronze vase which had 
 disappeared from Eloise's room the night of her 
 death. Its heavy base was darkly stained, and 
 matted all around it was a handful of golden hair. 
 Eloise's hair, her lovely, silky hair, smeared and 
 stiffened with her blood! 
 
 "That's the thing he did it with," I shuddered, 
 clutching N. P. "Oh, don't you see? He must 
 have hidden it here that night." 
 
 "I believe you're right," my husband agreed, 
 turning it thoughtfully in his hand. "It's heavy 
 enough to have crushed her head like an egg- 
 shell." 
 
 At his words my taut nerves gave way, and 
 for the first I trust the last tune in my life, I 
 thoroughly and violently had hysterics.
 
 236 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 N. P. threw one arm around me and swept me 
 into the house, carefully holding the vase in the 
 other hand. In the midst of my excitement I re- 
 member noticing that he carried his arm stiffly 
 outstretched from his body. I suppose even now 
 
 S*ffl!**iL:"' -, -. 
 
 N. P. has nerves, though this was the first mani- 
 festation of them I had ever seen. 
 
 He called America, and with her assistance put 
 me promptly to bed. Thanks to their ministra- 
 tions, I finally relaxed and grew composed. N. P. 
 sat beside me for a long, long time, his big hand 
 clasping mine while I slept and dozed and waked 
 and dozed again. Finally, I suppose I released 
 him by falling asleep in earnest. I don't know 
 how long I slept, but I awoke in the dark to find 
 him gone. 
 
 With a confused idea as to the tune, I switched
 
 THE IRIS HEDGE 237 
 
 on the electric light. A glance at his pillow showed 
 that he had not been to bed. I hastily consulted 
 the clock on the bedside table. It was ten min- 
 utes past one. Where in the world was N. P.? 
 
 The dread coincidence of the hour brought me 
 wide awake. I jumped out of bed and ran into 
 the hall to call him. The house was dark upstairs 
 and down. I pushed the button at the head of the 
 stairs and light flooded the lower hall. In an un- 
 reasoning panic I ran swiftly from room to room, 
 calling his name. 
 
 He was not in the house. The thought of the 
 garage came to me with sudden poignance. Had 
 he gone out there to investigate the mysterious 
 happenings I had told him about? I unlocked the 
 kitchen door and peered out toward the garage. 
 The same faint, tantalizing light that I had seen
 
 238 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 before shone from the window. My heart beats 
 quickened with alarm as I stumbled down the 
 steps and over the narrow gravel walk. 
 
 "N. P.!" I called sharply. "Where are you?" 
 
 Oh, the relief to hear his blessed voice, a little 
 muffled but triumphant. 
 
 "All right, Courtney, I've got him! Go back 
 in the house and call the police, will you? Tell 
 them I have the man who murdered Mrs. Cuy- 
 ler." 
 
 The shock of this announcement stunned my 
 wits. I hurried into the house and obediently 
 summoned the police, but I have no idea what 
 I said. It must have been sufficiently startling, 
 for the man at the other end of the line let off a 
 series of stacatto exclamations which I did not 
 wait for him to conclude.
 
 THE IRIS HEDGE 239 
 
 I heard N. P.'s voice outside briskly admonish- 
 ing someone to "step along there/' and I turned 
 with tightly-locked hands to await their entrance. 
 My imagination raced ahead to meet some heavy, 
 low-browed brute, but when the door swung open, 
 revealing N. P. with his prisoner in his grasp, I 
 leaned against the wall and laughed and laughed. 
 
 "Oh, N. P.," I gasped. "Is that all you've 
 caught? That's no murderer! That's why, 
 that's the man from Harrowgate's Flower Farm." 
 
 The mild, spectacled gaze of the quiet little 
 man with whom I had spent an hour in Eloise's 
 garden met my eyes. 
 
 "Flower nothing!" N. P. growled, taking a 
 fresh grip on his captive. "I tell you, he's the 
 man who murdered Eloise Cuyler ! He admits the 
 fact himself."
 
 240 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "I didn't say I murdered her," the man pro- 
 tested equably. "I merely killed her, as Dr. Cuyler 
 did my wife. An eye for an eye, a head for a 
 head. He is a murderer, if you like." 
 
 "What in heaven's name does he mean?" 
 
 I stared at the shabby figure, convinced that 
 the man had lost his reason. 
 
 "I'll tell you all about it later," my husband 
 said with terse kindness. "Meanwhile I hear 
 the patrol, and if you don't want to appear in 
 that pink thing you have on " 
 
 It was maddening, but I heard myself the clang 
 clang of the police motor as it dashed up to our 
 door, and I had barely time to gain the upper 
 floor before the men began to file in.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 
 
 Why I didn't expire of curiosity and suspense 
 during the remainder of that night, I'm sure I 
 don't know. N. P. went down to the police sta- 
 tion with his prisoner, and later to the jail, where 
 he breakfasted with the doctor. He telephoned 
 me from there that everything was all right and 
 that he'd be home later to explain precious poor 
 consolation in my state of mind. I waited on 
 tenterhooks until he returned somewhere towards 
 the middle of the morning. 
 
 "Just about ready to burst, aren't you, Court- 
 ney?" he greeted me as I ran down the steps to 
 
 241
 
 242 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 meet him. " 'Twas a shame to go off that way 
 and leave you in the dark, but I reckon you'll 
 forgive me when I tell you how it all happened." 
 
 "Better be quick about it, then," I recom- 
 mended. "Come on the porch where I have some- 
 thing nice and cool for you to drink. You can 
 tell me everything while you're getting rested. 
 Poor dear, you look so hot and tired." 
 
 He followed me obediently. When I had him 
 comfortably established, the electric fan buzzing 
 over his head, the ice tinkling in his glass, I felt 
 that patience had ceased to be a virtue. 
 
 "Now commence! Why? How? No first of 
 all, tell me if Dr. Cuyler is free?" 
 
 "Yes, thank the Lord!" was the fervent answer. 
 I did wish that rapscallion editor of the Gazette 
 could have seen the expression on N. P.'s face
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 243 
 
 51 " ;, 
 
 at that moment. He certainly wouldn't have be- 
 lieved him a very jealous husband then. 
 
 "Well, that's all right then. Now begin with 
 what you did after I went to sleep last night." 
 
 "After you went to sleep last night? Let me 
 think a moment. Oh, I'll tell you what I did. I 
 went over to the doctor's yard and looked at the 
 house. That bell story had been on my mind 
 ever since you told me about it, and I was deter- 
 mined to find out the cause of the noise. An elec- 
 tric bell doesn't ring without a wire connected 
 somewhere, and it was that wire I was looking 
 for. I found it without any difficulty. It was 
 wound inconspicuously about the wire leading 
 from the doctor's garage to the house. The cook 
 was still in the kitchen, so I went in and told 
 her I wanted to do a little investigating. For a
 
 244 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 bit I could find no bell, but after poking around 
 awhile I discovered one very cleverly hidden be- 
 neath a shelf. 
 
 I went back out to the Cuylers' garage and 
 made a careful search, but I could find nothing. 
 The wire came through a crack in the outside wall 
 and disappeared in the flooring. I examined that 
 carefully for loose boards, but there weren't any. 
 Then I went inside and continued my investiga- 
 tions. And here I was more successful. It was 
 a good thing we put off cementing the floor until 
 old Hunt could do the job, for it was due to the 
 wood flooring that I discovered what I did. I 
 pulled at the boards near the spot on my side 
 where the wire entered the floor on the other 
 side. And sure enough, one board was loose. I 
 pried it up, and the next one to it as well. What
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 245 
 
 do you think I found? A nice little storage bat- 
 tery all complete, and arranged so that by means 
 of a key switch the man was able to ring the bell 
 in the Cuylers' pantry." 
 
 "I just knew it was something like this," I ex- 
 claimed triumphantly. "Of course, I wouldn't 
 have had the gumption to work it all out the 
 way you did, but if Mrs. Wilding had only been 
 willing to let me look " 
 
 "I'm just as glad she didn't," N. P. said quietly. 
 'Wait until I tell you the rest. It was about ten 
 o'clock then, so I came up on the porch to have 
 a cigar and think things over while I waited for 
 the ghost to walk. If you remember, it was al- 
 ways later than eleven-thirty when he appeared, 
 but I thought I'd take up my quarters before 
 then. I remembered your experience, and I de-
 
 246 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 cided to make the garage my base of operations. 
 For the life of me, I couldn't see how the fellow 
 got into the place when it was locked. But I 
 meant to find out that evening. So in about an 
 hour I went quietly down there, making myself 
 as inconspicuous as possible in case anyone was 
 looking that way from across the street. I crawled 
 into a corner behind a linen robe that was lying 
 there nice warm spot to spend a summer night! 
 I suppose I'd been there another hour when I 
 heard a noise that made me sit up and take notice. 
 It seemed to come from the garage, and yet it 
 didn't. I peered cautiously out from a corner of 
 the robe and strained my eyes to see. It was 
 pretty dark in there, only the starlight from the 
 window making things visible at all, but my eyes 
 were well accustomed to it, and I could make out
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 247 
 
 nearly the whole place. The noise seemed to come 
 from about where the battery was, and I glued my 
 gaze to that spot. First thing you know, one of 
 the big partition boards between the rooms bent 
 slowly in, and your ghost wiggled through the 
 opening. The fellow had worked there before until 
 he had drawn all the nails in the boards where they 
 were fastened to the beam above, and it was an 
 easy matter for him to replace them after he left 
 each night. 
 
 I had him covered from under the robe, but I 
 wanted to see what he was up to, so I lay low 
 and waited. He had a small electric torch with 
 him, and he put this on the floor and began to 
 pull up the loose flooring where his storage battery 
 was hid. When he had it all uncovered he pulled 
 out his watch and commenced to talk to himself 
 in a low, meditative tone."
 
 248 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "What did he say?" I aked with deep interest. 
 
 "Oh, nothing very intelligible. He muttered a 
 great string of nonsense about 'a life for a life and 
 an eye for an eye.' ' 
 
 "And 'a head for a head'," I burst in. "I know. 
 I heard him say that, too." 
 
 "I didn't hear him say anything about a head. 
 You must have imagined that," N. P. corrected 
 me. "There wouldn't have been any sense in 
 that." 
 
 "There isn't any sense in any of it, as far as I 
 can see. Well, go on." 
 
 "Where was I, anyhow? You do interrupt so, 
 Courtney. Oh, yes, and then he said, 'Once more 
 at the joyful hour will the bell peal forth its paean 
 of victory.' I didn't know what tune it was get- 
 ting to be, but I didn't want him ringing that bell
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 249 
 
 again, so I just stepped out and said, 'Hands up, 
 there!' He didn't jump or yell, as I thought he 
 might. He just turned around as quietly as pos- 
 sible and asked, 'Who are you? The owner of this 
 garage?' 
 
 " 'Yes/ I told him. 'And who might you be?' 
 
 " 'Oh, nobody in particular,' " he replied very 
 casually. 
 
 " 'What are you doing in here?' ' 
 
 " 'I'm preparing to celebrate a victory,' " he 
 told me. " 'I peal the bell of triumph every night 
 at ten minutes past one.' ' 
 
 " Wei, this is one night you won't peal it. What 
 are you celebrating with your bell?' ' 
 
 " 'I've done unto my enemy even as he did 
 unto me,' he half sang, half chanted. 'I've waited 
 long, long years to mete out justice, but my tune
 
 250 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 came at last, and now the doctor knows what it 
 means to a man to lay his wife cold in her grave, 
 her head crushed in by the hand of a murderer.' ' 
 
 "N. P., did you ever hear of anything so ex- 
 traordinary? Why, he must be a raving ma- 
 niac!" 
 
 "That's just what he is," N. P. informed me 
 quietly. "I felt sure of it as I listened to his weird 
 intoning and watched the pupils of his eyes dilate. 
 I resolved to be cautious. I jumped from behind 
 and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, but 
 he didn't offer any resistance. Poor skinny little 
 beggar, it wouldn't have done him much good if he 
 had. Just about that time I heard you calling 
 outside, so I marched him into the house and you 
 know the rest." 
 
 "Oh, but I don't! That's only the beginning!
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 251 
 
 Go on and tell me what happened after you took 
 him to the police station." 
 
 N. P. drew a long sigh and looked regretfully 
 at the morning paper. 
 
 "You going to keep me talking all the rest of 
 the day? Haven't you any mercy on a fellow, 
 Courtney?" 
 
 "Not a bit. You're just getting to the interest- 
 ing point. Go on and tell me what happened 
 down at the court house. What did the Prosecut- 
 ing Attorney say?" 
 
 N. P. chuckled. "Well, I suppose you would 
 enjoy hearing that part of it. I understand that 
 there's no love lost between you and Mr. Lipp- 
 man. Before I notified the state's attorney I went 
 first to Mr. Brewer got him out of bed, in fact, 
 to do it. And he and I mapped out a nice little
 
 252 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 surprise for our legal friend. You'd never suspect 
 it, but Brewer conceals a dramatic instinct that 
 glories in such a situation as he planned. 
 
 "We told no one of the identity of our captive; 
 just informed the police captain that we had a 
 dangerous lunatic we wanted safely cared for 
 until morning. Fortunately you were so excited 
 when you telephoned last night that they got 
 the impression at the station I had been mur- 
 dered, and you were holding the murderer. Then 
 we let Lippman get out his nice long rope in court 
 this morning to carry out his own execution, which 
 he did to the queen's taste. This was the day he 
 was to charge the jury, you know, and he did it 
 with a vengeance. I give you my word by the 
 tune he had drawn the picture of Cuyler as he saw 
 him and as he expected the jury to see him, I
 
 THE MAN IN THE GARAGE 253 
 
 :'-"-'-.' A . r . ? . 2 
 
 didn't recognize old Vincent. He wound up his 
 
 impassioned speech with the demand 
 
 " 'Gentlemen of the jury, if this man before 
 
 you now, hanging his head in guilty shame, did 
 
 
 
 not murder his wife, who did? I ask you that, 
 gentlemen, who did?' 
 
 "Mr. Brewer hoisted himself from his chair and 
 said smoothly: 
 
 " 'If you really would like to know so badly, 
 
 'if '0^01 
 
 Mr. Lippman, this person here at my left did.' 
 
 "George! It was great, Courtney! The judge, 
 the jury, Mr. Lippman, Dr. Cuyler and every 
 person in the court room whirled around as though 
 they had been shot, and stared at the poor little 
 wretch standing by Brewer, handcuffed and with 
 a big policeman at his back." 
 "Oh, dear, I wish I'd been there to see it. Why
 
 254 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 didn't you send me word what was happening?" 
 I reproached my husband. N. P. looked at me 
 and hesitated. 
 
 "I did think about it, but I concluded maybe 
 the excitement would be too much for you. Be- 
 sides, after all the notoriety of the affair, I thought 
 perhaps you'd just as soon offer your congratula- 
 tions to Cuyler in a less public place," he finished 
 so firmly that I knew it was useless to argue with 
 him. I was sorry, of course, for I would have 
 dearly loved to be in at the finish, but as that 
 was the only reference N. P. ever made to the 
 scandalous rumors about the doctor and myself, 
 I felt I owed him acquiescence.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 THE MOTIVE 
 
 Dr. Cuyler released from jail and the guilty 
 man confined in his stead, there remained only 
 the motive for the murder to be explained. N. P. 
 and I went together to welcome the doctor home, 
 and in order to mitigate as much as we could 
 the sadness of this homecoming, we carried them 
 all back to dinner with us. 
 
 Afterwards we sat out on the verandah a long 
 time, a curiously relaxed and tranquil group, like 
 weary mariners who have made port after a stormy 
 voyage. The ache of longing for Eloise was with 
 us all, but only time could lessen that. 
 
 255
 
 256 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 It was not until Mariechen had nodded off to 
 sleep, her yellow head against her father's breast, 
 that we approached the mystery. I had been 
 thinking of the quiet little man who had instructed 
 me about the iris bulbs. It didn't seem possible 
 that he could have perpetrated such a bloody deed. 
 Suddenly almost without my volition, a question 
 slipped past my lips. 
 
 "Dr. Cuyler, do you suppose there is any proba- 
 bility that man will ever regain his senses enough 
 to realize what he has done?" 
 
 "It is hard to say, Mrs. Temple. I had supposed 
 he was quite sane for some time. He was dis- 
 missed from the asylum a number of years ago." 
 Dr. Cuyler spoke with some constraint and so 
 sadly that I regretted my question. I was about 
 to change the subject when N. P. shook himself
 
 THE MOTIVE 257 
 
 out of the funny silence of his pipe and remarked : 
 
 "Curious thing how the fellow managed to de- 
 ceive everyone about himself so long, eh, Cuy- 
 ler?" 
 
 "I presume he was only insane on the one sub- 
 ject. That very often happens. A man may be 
 rational enough ordinarily, and yet be demented 
 along a certain line. In his case it was the idea 
 of revenge he brooded over all these years." 
 
 No one made any reply to this. We all realized 
 on what delicate ground we trod. It remained for 
 Dr. Cuyler himself to guide us through the laby- 
 rinth of the past. 
 
 "A few weeks ago nothing could have per- 
 suaded me that I would ever discuss this matter 
 with anyone," he said after a little minute. "Not 
 even with my family or such friends as you dear
 
 258 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 Temples have been. I never spoke of it to Eloise ; 
 not only because I wanted to spare her the painful 
 knowledge, but because it was so unspeakably 
 bitter to me." 
 
 At his tone all my curiosity ebbed away. 
 
 "Don't try to talk about it now," I begged. "As 
 long as you're free, what does it matter?" 
 
 "I'd rather tell you," he insisted. "It is much 
 better for you and N. P. and for Mother Wilding 
 too to know. I feel now that perhaps I've made 
 a mistake to try to hide it all these years. At any 
 rate, there shall be no further mystery. We've 
 had enough of them already." 
 
 "Dear Vincent," Mrs. Wilding stirred uneasily 
 in her chair. "There are some mysteries that can 
 never be explained." 
 
 I knew she was thinking of the midnight bell
 
 THE MOTIVE 259 
 
 whose ringing she attributed to the supernatural. 
 I wondered if she would be any happier for the 
 logical explanation. Whether she would or not, 
 there was no time to tell her now, for the doctor 
 had already commenced. 
 
 "I have to go back to the outset of my profes- 
 sional career to tell you of my first acquaintance 
 with this man whom N. P. found in the garage 
 last night. I knew him well at one tune, then 
 he went out of my life, and for years I have not 
 seen him nor thought of him any oftener than 
 I could help." Dr. Cuyler spoke with visible 
 effort, but he had steeled himself to the painful 
 story, and he went on. 
 
 "I first began to practice medicine in a small 
 town in Pennsylvania, where for awhile I had 
 only the usual rounds of births, deaths, mumps
 
 260 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 and chicken pox. It was good experience for a 
 young fellow, but I was more interested in sur- 
 gery, intending to specialize in that later, and I 
 waited with considerable impatience for what I 
 considered a real opportunity to show my mettle." 
 
 "But you never do any surgery now," I ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 "I'm coming to that presently," Dr. Cuyler re- 
 plied, and again I wished that I had not spoken 
 so hastily. 
 
 "This opportunity came at last in a strange, ill- 
 fated way. My next-door neighbor was a man 
 named Post Andrew Post who conducted a 
 small nursery on the outskirts of the town. He 
 was a kindly, likable fellow, with a great love for 
 his work and a tremendous fund of information 
 about all growing things. He had married rather
 
 THE MOTIVE 261 
 
 above himself, I gathered, and as so often hap- 
 pens in such cases, he fairly worshiped his wife. 
 
 "She was rather a handsome woman, as I remem- 
 ber I didn't know her as well as I did him and 
 though she had more education than he, they 
 appeared to be very congenial. I often used to 
 watch them working together about their place 
 and think what a happy couple they were. A 
 young bachelor, you know, is apt to be interested 
 in the newly married. 
 
 "One morning Post appeared at my office in a 
 state of great agtation. His wife had not been 
 well for several weeks. She was suffering terribly 
 with her head that morning. Would I come over 
 at once and attend her? 
 
 "I examined her carefully and found that she 
 had a tumor at the base of the brain which re- 
 quired immediate attention.
 
 262 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "Here was the very opportunity for which I 
 had waited. I took Post aside and explained the 
 situation. I told him the operation was not neces- 
 sarily dangerous, and I knew that I was fully 
 competent to perform it, but if he preferred to 
 call someone from the city to go ahead and do so. 
 He was aghast at my information went all to 
 pieces for a bit, in fact, but clung to me and 
 showed no desire to call in anyone else. How- 
 ever, he opposed the operation with all the fear 
 and distrust that is peculiar to his class. I had 
 a great time overcoming his prejudice, he was 
 so sure that the operation meant death to his 
 wife. I had to explain to him over and over 
 that she would certainly die if we didn't operate. 
 Finally I convinced him. 
 
 "There was no hospital hi town, so, to save
 
 THE MOTIVE 263 
 
 Post a lot of extra expense, I offered to perform 
 the operation in their home. I sent for a nurse, 
 and had Mrs. Post's bedroom carefully prepared 
 under my supervision. You see, this being my first 
 operation and one of considerable magnitude, I 
 intended to leave no stone unturned to make it 
 a success. And yet and yet well, it's useless 
 to speculate now. I will just tell you the facts. 
 
 "Post insisted upon being present when I oper- 
 ated, and though my better judgment told me 
 to refuse him, he was so insistent that in the end 
 I let him stay. That was my first mistake. My 
 second was in bearing the responsibility alone. 
 
 "Mrs. Post took the anaesthetic nicely, and I 
 began my work. I found conditions even worse 
 than I had anticipated. I won't go into a scien- 
 tific explanation; indeed, it would be impossible
 
 264 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 to explain how the thing happened. There were 
 great quantities of blood, and though the nurse 
 sponged it away as rapidly as possible, it inter- 
 fered greatly with my vision. Enough to tell you 
 that I made a wrong cut and severed the nerves 
 of respiration. I knew instantly what I had done, 
 but there was no help. She died in a moment 
 while I stood looking at her, my blood-stained in- 
 strument hi my hand. Post did not fail to per- 
 ceive the change in her breathing, and turned on 
 me like a madman. 
 
 " 'You've killed her!' he shouted, his face livid 
 and his eyes ablaze. 'You black-hearted butcher, 
 you've killed my wife!" 
 
 "Vincent!" A shocked, frightened wail came 
 from Mrs. Wilding. 
 
 "Oh, you poor boy!" I heard myself exclaim-
 
 THE MOTIVE 265 
 
 ing. N. P. got out of his chair and marched over 
 to lay a hand on Dr. Cuyler's shoulder. 
 
 "By George, old fellow!" he said in a voice of 
 deepest sympathy. 
 
 Dr. Cuyler looked from one to the other of us 
 with a tragic face. 
 
 "I couldn't deny it, you know," he said quietly. 
 "I felt myself to be as surely that woman's mur- 
 derer as though I had wilfully struck her down. 
 The rest is a hideous nightmare. I offered to do 
 anything I could, assume all expense, but Post 
 would have none of me. From the moment his 
 wife expired he turned against me with the most 
 intense hatred. I was obliged to to leave him 
 finally in the hands of his friends. 
 
 "I went back to my office in an agony of self 
 reproach. Of course, the little town buzzed with
 
 266 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 the affair, but no movement was taken to bring 
 action against me. I doubt, anyway, if there could 
 have been. I kept to the house the next few 
 days, dismissing the few patients who rallied loy- 
 ally about me. 
 
 "The day of the funeral I stood at my window 
 and watched the white casket as it was borne to 
 the hearse. Post walked just behind it, a stricken 
 man. As he reached the sidewalk he turned, in 
 the face of all the people, and shook both clenched 
 fists at my door. It was a startling demonstra- 
 tion which, as I recall it now, was but the germ 
 of his long-meditated revenge. 
 
 "That night I was awakened by a knocking 
 at my door, and when I went to open it I found 
 Andrew Post in his night clothes, a raving, gib- 
 bering maniac. I managed to overpower him and
 
 THE MOTIVE 267 
 
 keep him in my office until I had summoned help. 
 The next day he was taken to the insane asylum, 
 where he remained several years. I sold out my 
 office and left town immediately after this. But I 
 kept in touch with the authorities of the asylum, 
 feeling that I was responsible for his condition 
 and wishing to make what feeble reparation I 
 could by assuming his obligations. Later I went 
 to Europe. He was discharged while I was travel- 
 ing abroad, and though I tried to find him as 
 soon as I returned, I was not able to learn any- 
 thing concerning him. I supposed that he was 
 cured and no longer in need of financial aid. So 
 I closed the chapter on that fearful experience, 
 fondly believing that I need never open it again. 
 
 "Time, and experience gamed in European hos- 
 pitals, opened a wider outlook to me. I had gone
 
 268 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 abroad intending to study music, art, china paint- 
 ing anything but my profession. But I could 
 not keep away from it. In spite of that first dread- 
 ful experience, I could not withstand its irresist- 
 ible attraction. Finally I made up my mind to 
 return to America and begin over, but I promised 
 myself that I would never undertake surgical 
 work again, and I never have. It was the penalty 
 that I intended to pay for my mistake. I thought 
 it was sufficiently heavy, but Post, you see, 
 thought not. Circumstances brought me here, 
 where I opened an office and where the happiest 
 years of my life have been spent. I need not 
 tell you that this shadow of my youth has re- 
 mained ever with me. A man doesn't outlive a 
 thing like that, but happiness, success, the will 
 to forget did push it into the background of my
 
 THE MOTIVE 269 
 
 consciousness. I had not thought of the Posts 
 in some weeks before Eloise's death. After that 
 I could think of nothing but her." 
 
 The Doctor drew a long breath, and I knew 
 the weight of confession was lifted from him. 
 
 "Even when those anonymous letters appeared 
 with their lurid allusions to my past, it never oc- 
 curred to me to connect them with Post. He 
 told me today that he had been on my trail for 
 years, that he had come here to live with the 
 sole purpose of revenge, but as I never happened 
 to run across him I coudn't know that. You 
 remember, Mrs. Temple, the afternoon of our 
 drive, the day I was arrested, that I picked up 
 a piece of paper with a name on it?" 
 
 I nodded. "Ruenna, wasn't it?" 
 
 "That was her name, Mrs. Post's, I mean. It's
 
 270 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 very unusual. I have never heard it in connec- 
 tion with anyone but her. And it naturally re- 
 vived painful memories. If my arrest hadn't 
 followed immediately on that ride and knocked 
 all other thoughts out of my head, I think that 
 scrap of paper might have set me wondering. 
 That was the last I knew of Post until the other 
 day in court, when Lippman produced that pho- 
 tograph of Mrs. Post. So when N. P. turned up 
 this morning with Post, whom I hadn't seen in 
 twelve years, in his clutches, it was as great a 
 surprise to me as to anyone. I realize that I 
 have been singularly lacking in perception about 
 it all, but my brain seems to have been benumbed 
 lately." 
 
 "Did you have any talk with this Post?" I 
 asked hurriedly, to cover the doctor's painful 
 pause.
 
 THE MOTIVE 271 
 
 "A little, yes. He admitted the crime freely. 
 Seemed to have no compunction about it. Re- 
 venge had got to be an idee fixe with him. Through 
 his work at the florist's he found an opportunity 
 to call upon Eloise and familiarize himself with 
 the place. The rest was a matter of chance and 
 cunning. His hour came and he improved it. It 
 was my wife for his." 
 
 Dr. Cuyler's stern composure trembled. The 
 anguish of his thought shook us all. After a mo- 
 ment he mastered himself and went on evenly. 
 
 "The man is insane, of course. That accounts 
 for all the extraordinary things that have been 
 disturbing you, Mrs. Temple. The letters, the 
 commotion in the garage and all. He seems 
 not to have been able to keep away from the 
 place."
 
 272 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 "It accounts for everything," I said excitedly. 
 "I might have suspected long ago if I'd had any 
 wits at all. No one but a person utterly insane 
 would have thought of doing all the impossible 
 things that have happened here in the last four 
 weeks." 
 
 "Yes, I think it explains everything," the doc- 
 tor agreed wearily. "Post builded better than he 
 knew. His idea of revenge at first carried him 
 no further than exact retribution. Later, when 
 suspicion began to point to me, he conceived the 
 idea that it lay in his power to further that sus- 
 picion, and he did so, delightedly. He frankly 
 acknowledged this to me. Between his machina- 
 tions and one or two old coincidences, like Ross- 
 baum's disappearance he returned this morn- 
 ing, by the way the police were able to make 
 quite a showing against me.
 
 THE MOTIVE 273 
 
 "I've taken the matter up with Lippman, and 
 the case is to be dismissed, as, of course, Post can- 
 not be prosecuted. He is to be sent to the state 
 asylum tomorrow. I need not ask my two best 
 friends to keep the reason for his enmity in- 
 violate. As far as I myself am concerned, I feel 
 now that it doesn't matter; but for Mariechen's 
 sake I would like to put it all away from me." 
 
 He looked at the sleeping child with a grave, 
 tender expression, then rose and brought her over 
 to me. 
 
 "We must be going home," he said. "Will you 
 hold her a moment while I help mother?" 
 
 Mariechen roused a little at the transfer, but 
 settled herself comfortably for another nap. 
 
 "Want to stay wiv Auntie Court," she whim- 
 pered, snuggling closer in my arms as her father
 
 274 THE DEATH CRY 
 
 came to take her. If I had prompted the speech 
 myself, nothing could have better exemplified my 
 relations to the Cuyler family. Dr. Cuyler smiled 
 at N. P. as he took the child from me. 
 
 "You'll have to adopt us all, I think," he said. 
 "We don't seem able to get along without Mrs. 
 Temple." 
 
 I watched them cross the lawn, Mariechen's 
 sleepy head nodding over his shoulder, Mrs. Wild- 
 ing clinging to his arm. With those two helpless 
 legacies from Eloise dependent upon his affection 
 and care, I felt with thankfulness that he would 
 still find life worth living. And it was due to N. 
 P/s blundering cleverness that this was possible. 
 
 I turned with a rush of feeling to tell him so, 
 but N. P. was not there. I glanced in at the win- 
 dow and began to laugh with a whole-hearted
 
 * 
 
 ' 
 
 THE MOTIVE 275 
 
 enjoyment I had not known since Elolse died. N. 
 P. was stodged into his favorite leather chair. All 
 the lights in the room were blazing. Peace shone 
 on his face; every line of his big figure radiated 
 content. Madness, mystery and murder alike for- 
 gotten, N. P. was deep in his evening paper. 
 
 THE END
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL U8RARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000 043 700 4