CHMOItrAGUE CCUDYAR' OF CALIF. LIBRARY, LOS AHGELES WRITTEN IN RED OR THE CONSPIRACY IN THE NORTH CASE (A STORY OF BOSTON) BY CHAS. HOWARD MONTAGUE AND C. W. DYAR BRENTANO'S UNION SQUARE NEW YORK 1900 COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY THE CASSELL PUBLISHING CO. Alt rights reserved. CONTENTS. CHAPTER PACK I. FOUND DEAD, i II. A PERFUME AS OF A WOMAN, . . 14 III. MR. LAMM ASSUMES COMPLICATED RELA- TIONS 28 IV. AN UNBIDDEN GUEST, .... 45 V. AND WHO is THE AFORESAID MARIE ? . 60 VI. LIFE AFTER DEATH, .... 73 VII. THE INSPECTOR DISCOVERS NEW EVIDENCE, 92 VIII. APPLEBEE is TAKEN BY SURPRISE, . 103 IX. UNDER COVER OF THE NIGHT, . . 115 X. WHO is SHE? 127 XI. IN DANGER, 141 XII. THOMAS DECLINES TO STATE THEORIES, 153 XIII. STILL THE MOISSOT WOMAN, . . .167 XIV. MR. LAMM COUGHS BEHIND HIS HAND, . 180 XV. THE THING HAS A DARK LOOK, . . 192 XVI. CONSPIRACY ! 204 XVII. FETRIDGE is STILL RETICENT, . . .221 XVIII. MADAME RAYMOND, .... 237 iV CONTENTS. CHAPTER PAGE XIX. "So LONG AS SHE LIVES I AM IN DANGER," 247 XX. ASTONISHING DISCLOSURES OF WILLARD SMITH, 258 XXI. THE HEAD OF THE SERPENT, . . 271 XXII. THE MEDEA WEEPS ! .... 282 XXIII. DRAWING THE NET, .... 297 XXIV. " NAME THE MAN," 309 XXV. NOT WHAT THEY EXPECTED, BUT STILL 320 WRITTEN IN RED ; OR, THE CONSPIRACY JN THE NORTH CASE. CHAPTER I. FOUND DEAD. npHE private office of North & Stackhouse, State 1 Street, bankers and brokers, contained on the morning of Friday, June 16, 1887, a group of anxious and excited men, whose conversation plainly indicated that their uneasiness was caused by the continued and unexplained absence of Paul North, the senior partner. In State Street circles, North & Stackhouse were classed among the " plungers." For the first two years of the firm's existence, indeed, there had been but slight departure from the conservative policy followed by Mr. North, who, when in the broker- age business on his own account, had been content with a modest office in a comparatively quiet street leading eastward from Post Office Square. But, under the lead of Mr. Stackhouse an ener- getic man of forty, ten years his partner's junior banking had been added to brokerage ; and the firm had become widely known as the promoter of many daring enterprises. 2 WRITTEN IN RED. Nicaragua Midland was a speciality with North & Stackhouse. In season and out of season, Nicaragua Midland had been "boomed" with a persistency that caused some of the older magnates of "the street "to shake their heads ominously, but which had attracted, nevertheless, the admiration and co-operation of a multitude of people. Not all who invested their earnings under the Advice of North & Stackhouse had, it is true, found the venture profitable. But, for the most part, the losers had borne their ill fortune manfully, without complaining. Few angry outbursts from disappointed patrons had disturbed the optimistic hopes of the bright-eyed speculators, who, month after month, had made the rooms of these State Street bankers and brokers their favorite haunt. Twelve days previous to this June morning in 1887, however, a curious letter, in an unknown hand, had been laid on Mr. North's desk. The writing was an odd sort of scrawl, uncertain in its lines, but legible enough. This was the missive : " MY DEAR SIR. I am a desperate man, ruined by your manipulations of the property entrusted to your hands. I must have money enough to begin life again. I only ask for a little back out of all you robbed me of, but that little I must have. There is only one thing for you to do : Draw a check, for one thousand dollars, payable to bearer, and enclose it addressed to me at the post office, Boston. If you fail in this, I swear to shoot you down as I would a mad dog. If you are wise, you will not refer this matter to the police. That act would be your death warrant. " DANIEL STJCKNEY." FOUND DEAD. 3 Paul North, to whom, personally, this threatening letter was addressed, had consulted his partner, in some little uneasiness of mind. " It's all nonsense," Mr. Stackhouse had said, confidently. " A mere practical joke of some broker who wants to frighten you. A few of them were nipped in the last turn of the market in our favor, you know, and perhaps they hold North & Stackhouse responsible. But, if the matter dis- turbs you at all, why, turn the letter over to the police. They'll attend to it. We must look after Nicaragua Midland very sharply this week, North, and have no time to bother our heads about trifles." Nevertheless, Mr. North had troubled himself about the matter sufficiently to put the letter into the hands of Inspector Applebee for such action as seemed proper. Upon the advice of that quietly efficient person- age, a decoy letter had been written by Mr. North, enclosing a check for 1000 dollars, payable to bearer. An officer, in citizen's clothes, had been stationed on duty constantly at the post office, but no Daniel Stickney had called for the letter addressed to his name. As a precaution against any possible oversight, payment of the check had been stopped at the bank, a precaution which, thus far, had proved equally useless. " Just as I told you," Stackhouse had said to his 4 WRITTEN IN RED. partner after a few days. " A broker's practical joke." The letter soon passed out of mind, for business cares weighed heavily on both partners. What had long been feared had taken place. The market had become very " bearish." All stocks felt the mysterious influence of depression, and among the very first to fall was Nicaragua Midland. So absorbed and anxious had Mr. North become that he could talk and think of little except the market and its prospects. Was it altogether on the subject of Nicaragua Midland that he had held conference, late in the afternoon of the isth of June, with one of the chief investors, though not a director in the Nicaragua Midland Mr. Richard Fetridge? Whether or not, the interview had not been finished at the office ; for the two men had been seen to walk away together, still talking earnestly. Old Jobson, the veteran clerk of the firm, had looked after them as they passed up the street. " It's a tight time for North & Stackhouse," he had said to himself, shaking his head. " If things don't take an upward turn very soon, I'm afraid to-morrow's meeting of Nicaragua directors will do precious little good ! " The junior partner had left the office hours be- fore, outwardly calm. Whatever his forbodings may have been, Thornton Stackhouse was not the man to allow his troubles to show themselves in look or manner. FOUXD DEAD. 5 Paul North was the father-in-law of his business associate, and Thornton Stackhouse made his home in summer time at Mr. North's spacious villa at Swampscott, from whose broad windows the occu- pants enjoyed an exhilarating prospect of the sail- flecked ocean. At ten o'clock in the morning of this Friday, the i6th of June, the directors of Nicaragua Midland had assembled, pursuant to call, in the office of North & Stackhouse. Half an hour later every face wore a look of anxious expectation. " I don't understand it at all," exclaimed Stack- house, nervously walking up and down. " North is the most punctual of men, as you all know. He must be ill." "Ill !" echoed one of the directors. "Wasn't North all right when you left him at Swampscott this morning ?" Mr. Stackhouse waved his hand impatiently. " I didn't go down to the shore last night," he returned, shortly. " Stayed in town with a friend. I left North here in this office about three o'clock in the afternoon, and haven't laid eyes on him since ! " " Why don't you telegraph to his house ? " asked a little man near the door. " It's strange he hasn't sent some word himself before this time. But I suppose he's ill, and his daughters are so v/orried about him that they have forgotten to send. Just like women ! " the testy little bachelor added. The suggestion was acted upon instantly. After 6 WRITTEN IN RED. an interminable delay a response came, evoking a simultaneous murmur of dismay and the interchange of apprehensive looks. " SWAMPSCOTT, June 16. " Mr. North must have stayed in town. He has not been here since yesterday morning. " COMFORT II AR WOOD." " Strange ! " ejaculated Stackhouse, ringing the bell as he spoke. " Send Mr. Jobson in," he added, the next moment, to the waiting messenger. The old clerk was in the room before the mes- senger had left it, trembling all over with senile agitation. " At what time did Mr. North leave the office yesterday afternoon ? " Stackhouse demanded ab- ruptly. " It was after five o'clock, sir." " Was he alone ? " " No, sir. Mr. Fetridge was with him." " Probably went out of town somewhere with Fet- ridge," suggested one of the directors. " Delayed missed a train. Very provoking ! On this day, too, of all others ! But send round to Fetridge's office and see if he has been heard from." Unasked, the old clerk took upon himself the duty of messenger, and the party anxiously awaited his return. But one question and answer were interchanged meanwhile. " Has Nicaragua been quoted to-day, Stack- house ? " the little old bachelor queried. " Yes. Offered at 9. No takers. Off a point already, you see." FOUND DEAD. 7 The sound of footsteps and voices in the outer office announced to the anxious ear of Stackhouse the coming of Mr. Fetridge himself. The broker stepped forward. " Well ? " It was evident at first sight that the new comer was unduly agitated. He was a stalwart, handsome fellow, certainly not beyond thirty years of age. " I cannot imagine where North is any more than you," he exclaimed, without waiting for question. " I walked up the street with him yesterday after- noon, after a talk in his office." " Where did you leave him ? " Fetridge flushed and seemed considering a reply. All eyes were turned on him. " I don't know the exact point," he said at last. " At the corner of State and Washington Streets, I think it was." Stackhouse, who was very nervous and more affected than the occasion seemed to require, stared at Fetridge blankly, as if utterly at a loss to account for his confusion. " His town house is closed for the summer," he suggested, his eyes still on Fetridge's face. " He must have gone to some hotel." " Send a messenger to make the rounds ! " ex- citedly demanded the little bachelor. Richard Fetridge seemed to find the situation unaccountably embarrassing. He had no advice to offer. Stackhouse particularly appeared to dis- concert him. Murmuring something about having 8 WRITTEN IN RED. left a man waiting for him at his office, and that he presumed North would be found speedily, he hastened out and betook himself in the direction of his place of business. The necessity of haste in his return, however, seemed to become less obvious to him after he reached the open air. He stood stock still with his foot upon the flight of stairs leading to his office, and then, under the stress of a sudden thought, wheeled abruptly and walked energetically back up the street. In five minutes he was in police headquarters at Pemberton Square, inquiring anxiously of the official to whom the clerk referred him whether any notification of the disappearance of Paul North had been sent to him. The official professed ignorance of the matter. " When was he last seen, sir ? " " Yesterday afternoon about five o'clock, going up State Street from his office," Fetridge rejoined, avoiding further detail. And hastened to add : " He has a town house at Marlboro Street, you know. Perhaps it isn't my place to suggest it, but don't the police in such cases have authority to enter a man's premises if " Fetridge hesitated. The official observed him narrowly, wondering, no doubt, why he was so ob- viously agitated. "Undoubtedly ; if his friends desired it, and had any reason to believe that there was anything the matter, the police would enter the house." Fetridge thereupon urged the official to obtain FOUND DEAD. 9 permission from Thornton Stackhouse to make a search of the premises. He was unable to give any direct reason, and unwilling to put into words any definite suspicion, but he showed by his conduct that he had both. Eventually a messenger was despatched in search of Stackhouse, who thereupon responded in person. He seemed a little surprised to see Fetridge, and the official noted that there was a constrainedness and a lack of cordiality between the two men. Their opinions, however, coincided upon the matter in question. " By all means," said Stackhouse, " search the house in Marlboro Street. It is my residence as well as North's, and I authorize you if the men sent are discreet and trustworthy." The official arose. " Then I will send word at once by telephone to Station 4. You don't happen to have a key to the house about you ? " " Why, no," returned the partner. " My keys are in my wife's care at Swampscott, or I should have gone to the house myself." The message was sent, and while the police of the fourth division were acting in accordance there- with, Stackhouse and Fetridge sat waiting at head- quarters, the quiet broken only by the scratching of the busy pen of a clerk. No. Marlboro Street was a broad, brown house, the counterpart of half a hundred other dwellings within a stone's throw of Paul North's town residence. 10 1. RI1 TEN IN RED. As the sergeant and patrolman of the fourth divi- sion neared the place, they observed the outer door at the entrance, and saw that all the windows in the basement and first story were barred or shuttered. Curtains, closely drawn, lent a cheerless and deserted appearance to the windows above. " And yet," remarked the sergeant, as he went up the steps, " somebody has been here. The outer door is open ; the vestibule door unlocked." It was indeed true, and led at once to the con- clusion that Paul North was within. The officer rang the be!!. But though the sum- mons was repeated again and again it awoke no responsive life inside the darkened, echoing house. The sergeant calmly came to the conclusion that an entrance must be forced, and after a brief inspection of the premises sent Johnson, the officer, in quest of a ladder. The ladder was obtained from the nearest depository of the fire department ; and the officers were soon in the rear of Paul North's residence. It took but a minute to open the door of the yard. In another minute the ladder rested against a brick wall, and Officer Johnson, with a curious piece of flexible steel in his grasp, had pushed back the lock of a curtained window in the second story. " A bedroom," said the sergeant, pulling up the curtain with some difficulty, when they were both inside ; " bed untouched, however. Door open into that dark room in front. Other door open to the corridor, no doubt." FOUND DEAD. II \ The sergeant led the way through a. door diago- nally opposite the window by which they had gained entrance. It was the corridor, as he had expected. He set out methodically to peer into the rooms as he went along, but he met with an obstacle at the very outset. At the head of the broad front staircase the door refused to yield to his pressure beyond a limited degree. Officer Johnson was about to push the door vigorously when he was stopped by a warn- ing gesture from his superior. As the patrolman stepped back the sergeant, pressing against the door as lightly as possible, in- sinuated his way into the unvisited room. A half- stifled cry brought his subordinate to his side. " Don't move it ! Don't touch it ! " whispered the sergeant, putting an admonitory hand on the officer's shoulder. It was by no means horror which inspired his utterance. Both men looked down upon a figure, lying with outstretched, clutch- ing hands, close against the door. With the caution of experience the sergeant bent down, and placed his hand over the heart. " Dead ! " he said in a moment, half to himself, half to his companion, and straightened up without losing his composure. Officer Johnson, new to the force and to this kind of experience, by no means preserved his presence of mind in the emergency, and held fast to the sergeant. 12 WRITTEN IN RED, The room, seen through the twilight, had a weird, uncanny look ; the tables, enswathed in their coverings, seemed coffin shaped, and the chandelier, in its shroud of brown holland, might have been a ghost pointing down to the inanimate figure on the floor. " What's that on the wall by the door ? " whis- pered Officer Johnson, pointing with shaking finger. The sergeant had opened the window almost before his companion had finished the sentence. In the glare of the sudden instreaming sunlight on the tinted wall, low down, near the door by which the body lay, was a scrawl in dull red : " Stockhart Stockhaus Stockhouj ! " Thus the sergeant, as they both stared with all their eyes. " There's a ' Stack,' or ' Stock,' written there," said the officer, positively. " Whatever the rest may mean, that much is certain." He was still gazing at the message when he re- ceived a peremptory order to proceed to the station and notify the authorities. FOUND DEAD. 13 " For there's a hue and cry coming out of this thing, or I'm no prophet," the sergeant said. And as he waited for the coming of his associates the sergeant looked down thoughfully at the silent figure. What an uproar and commotion in the community would follow this discovery, so quietly made in the silent chamber ! The sergeant was philosopher enough in his way to think of this and to mutter to himself as he kept his lonely watch : ' Within twenty-four hours, for all you lie there so silent and utter no sound, the thoughts and con- jectures of a million people will center about you, and Heaven knows how many lives and loves you will make and break before you are through with them ! " The sergeant was quite right. The arm of a dead man may have a tremendous power to threat- en and control, and Paul North dead might work more mischief still than Paul North living. CHAPTER II. A PERFUME AS OF A WOMAN. PHILOSOPHICALLY reflecting, Sergeant Parr 1 continued, nevertheless, a careful scrutiny of the apartment. It was beyond doubt a library, for the backs of books showed behind the sheets that cov- ered certain articles of large bulk. The adjoining room was in all probability the sleeping chamber of the master of the house. A casual inspection satis- fied the officer that the bed had not been occupied since it was last made up. But there was something more important still in the sergeant's estimation to be ascertained, and on that he had ample time to reach a settled convic- tion. It was evident at first sight that the man on the floor had come to his death by reason of a bul- let wound. If his own hand had been responsible for the deed, the suicidal weapon must be some- where about. And as a careful search failed to reveal any trace of such a weapon, the sergeant had made up his mind long previous to the arrival of the investigating party that the case was a very serious one and involved at the outset a deep mystery. The scene soon changed. The room gradually 14 A PERFUME AS OF A WOMAN. 15 filled with alert and dignified men, whose profession made their attendance at such times a matter of too frequent occurrence to permit of their exhibit- ing any other sentiment in the presence of the grim witness of violent death than a keen and specula- tive business interest. In the vestibule below, two officers were stationed to challenge everybody who attempted to enter the house. Already in front of the building, so quickly and mysteriously does evil news disseminate itself, was gathered a throng which stared with fascinated horror at the upper windows and at every fresh ingoer and outcomer. Sergt. Parr had long since recognized Inspector Applebee, and had whispered in his ear that it was going to be a " big case." " So ? " said the inspector, lifting his eye-brows and half smiling. A moment later he was grave and apparently unconcerned. Dr. Jarret, the medical examiner for the district in which the body was found, came to the scene in a carriage. Till he arrived nothing was done. The State imposes upon the judgment and good sense of these officials grave responsibilities. In three minutes after his horse stopped in front of the house, Dr. Jarrett was at work examining, ques- tioning, weighing the evidences in his own mind. The casual observer would have looked in vain among these quiet officials for the inevitable reporter. Evidently the newspaper man was barred out ! Not at all. The public who look for a notebook, and expect to find in such circumstances a meddlesome 1 6 WRITTEN IN RED. young man writing with ghoul-like activity, would never have suspected the short, thick-set, black- haired, gentlemanly young man who talked with each person present in an easy way, which showed that he was personally acquainted with every one. Instead of flourishing a notebook the insignia of the property reporter of the theater, and of the beginners in the profession this man had no bet- ter use for his hands than a mechanical fondling of the pendant to his watch chain a trick which in some mysterious manner seemed to help him to think. Although he was young, his experience in criminal affairs, combined with his natural ability, had made his sagacity equal to that of anybody present, while his trustworthiness and reliability enabled him to be oftentimes in important cases a confidant of the authorities. This was Kingman F. Thomas of the Boston Globe. The medical examiner arose from a brief inspec- tion of the body, which was already identified as that of Paul North, the State Street financier. Everybody looked at him curiously, but his imper- turbable face told no tales. " Nothing has been disturbed ? " he asked of the sergeant. " We knew our business, sir. Everything is ex- actly as we found it." " Ah ! " No more and no less, came in a matter- of-fact tone from the medical examiner's lips. " Well, doctor," said Mr. Thomas, " how is it?" " I shall perform an autopsy." A PERFUME AS OF A WOMAN. I? This was said quietly. The medical examiner retrained from advancing his opinion at this stage, hut Thomas understood that the determination to perform an autopsy indicated serious suspicion on the physician's part. There was a tremulous touch on his shoulder, and he turned to meet the eyes of a man whom he did not know. "What what is that writing on the wall down there by the door ? " asked a shaking voice. " This is a friend of the family, doctor," inter- posed Inspector Applebee, by way of accounting for this unfamiliar presence there. " He was Mr. North's partner. Naturally he is very much over- come." In tones that were a trifle steadier, Mr. Stack- house repeated his question. Bending down to seek an answer himself, he started back, and would have fallen but for the opportune aid of the news- paper man. " A horrible sight ! I cannot look at it," he muttered, putting his hand over his eyes. " Tell me what you make it out ! " A glance of intelligence passed between the inspector and the sergeant. Each divined perfectly what had brought such a shock to the mind of Paul North's partner. Each understood fully the man's unspoken fear. Meanwhile Dr. Jarret, anplying certain mysteri- ous tests, seemed more intent upon determining 1 8 WRITTEN IN RED. the medium of this strange message than the mes- sage itself. "Written in blood," he said, eventually, '.ooking steadily at Stackhouse ; " and the condition of the forefinger of the right hand seems to indicate that the dead man wrote it." He paused and Stack- house sank into a chair. " But what odds ? The writing will endure, gentlemen. We have other things to do." He gave the inspector a meaning look and resumed his work. Thomas lost not a detail of this scene. But now, with Inspector Applebee as his close companion, the library and the adjoining room were examined minutely. The room had been used very recently. Regard- ing that point, there was no possibility of doubt. Chairs had been moved from their accustomed places. On the opened desk, which Mr. Stack- house at once identified as his partner's, stood, amid a heap of tumbled papers, a drop light. Near by, a burnt match. Obviously the windows had not been touched. The adjoining room, vouched for as Paul North's chamber by his partner, soon recovering his self- control, bore no traces of occupancy. As the door was open between it and the library, it was plain xhat the master of the house must have passed through the room. He had not slept there, for the bed's surface was unrma-d, and not a fold of the pillows had been disturbed. A PERFUME AS OF A WOMAN. 19 " One thing is evident," said Thomas. " This man was not killed for money. I saw the doctor take a well-filled pocket-book from his person, and not a thing in the house appears to have been dis- turbed." A call from Dr. Jarrett summoned the two men back into the chamber of death. " You had better look for the bullet, gentlemen," he said quietly. " It is evident that it went clear through him. and it is surely nowhere about his clothing." Instantly everybody was examining the room, the furniture, the walls, the carpet. But for some time, it appeared that the ball had been spirited away as mysteriously as the fatal weapon from which it had been fired. " Hallo ! " exclaimed Thomas, suddenly, as he pointed to the wall, " what's that up there above that picture ? " Thomas was pointing to a slight protuberance in the surface of the wall, directly opposite the bay- window, near the ceiling. " What, that ? " exclaimed the inspector. " Im- possible ! It is quite ten feet away trom the floor." " But it's a bullet, none the less," said Thomas, who had already mounted on a chair and began to ascertain the distance of the puncture above the carpet. " You are right, inspector," he said. " It is nine feet eleven inches from the floor, and is driven in diagonally, as if it had been fired from the corner ?0 WRITTEN IN RED. of the bay-window over there near the writing, desk." u I can't understand that at all," said the inspec- tor. " It must have been deflected in its course somehow to have got there. The man was evidently shot in the breast. His clothes in front are simply one mass of blood. Ah ! I see there was more than one shot fired. This is a stray ball." The house was searched from top to bottom. Nowhere was any trace of intrusion. " If Mr. North slept here at all last night," said the inspector, " it must have been in his chair in his library." Dr. Jarrett assented. Sergeant Parr, who had been notified from the fourth division that he need no longer remain on duty in the place, willingly volunteered to take, as he went out, a message to the captain in charge of the division. " I have sent for an ambulance," Dr. Jarrett explained to the group that surrounded him in Paul North's chamber. " The body will be taken to the morgue, and I will hold an autopsy at once. As Mr. North's partner is here, I will waive the r.sual formalities and state beforehand that there is little doubt that an inquest will take place, though I would ask reporters not to make any such direct announcement." Mr. Stackhouse bowed. " I quite understand, sir," he said, "and whatever testimony I can give I shall offer most willingly. But now I feel that I should take the terrible news A PERFUME AS OF A WOMAN. 21 to the family my wife, you know, was Mr. North's daughter." Ab Mr. Stackhouse went his way up the shady side of Marlboro Street, an initiated observer would hardly have failed to note that another man followed in his wake upon the opposite pavement. The quiet reporter meanwhile had busied himself in making a diagram of the second story of the North house, which appeared the next morning in his paper in substantially the following form : B d H 1 [I /v L