“Achilles’ wrath to Greece, the direful springOf woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess sing.”
“Achilles’ wrath to Greece, the direful springOf woes unnumbered, heavenly goddess sing.”
I am no goddess, but I mean to write a song, and sing the proud man’s praise until his great deeds done in the heart-crushing business shall resound throughout the land. You had better marry Lottie, Mr. Demar, without delay; she is hissister, you know, and might catch the inspiration, and learn to despise common people.’
“‘Miss Bramlett, for Heaven’s sake don’t talk that way! You know how Lottie loves you—she would go any length to serve you. Harry worships you, and all will go well if you will only give him a little kind message.’
“‘I can only repeat what I have already said. I have no message for Mr. Wallingford.’
“I left her with heavy feelings weighing on my mind. Time rolled on, we all rolled on too—or rather drifted on toward our fate. At the end of six months matters were not improved, but had continued to grow worse. Lottie was as true to me as the needle to the pole; not a wave of misunderstanding ever crossed the calm sea of our happiness; all my spare moments were spent by her side. We were too happy to look into the dim future, but we drank in the sweet pleasure of the present, little dreaming of the great cloud of woe that was gathering over our heads, soon to burst on us with all its fury. Shortly after the misunderstanding between Harry and Viola he had fallen ill, and for six weeks his life seemed to be ebbing away slowly; but, thanks to Doctor Dodson’s skill and Lottie’s nursing, the vital spark was kept in the body until nature came to the rescue. His illness caused him to postpone his trip to California at least until fall, and we were encouraged to hope that we should be able to get him to abandon the trip entirely. I still clung to the idea that he and Viola would not drift apart forever.
“Viola never visited Lottie after the trouble with Harry. I saw her about four weeks after Harry was taken ill. I was not prepared to look for or expect such a change as was visible in her appearance; she presented a perfect picture of despair—her beautiful eyes had a languid, listless look in them that told plainly how she was suffering. Was this the beautiful, gay little girl that I had heard Lottie call the lively little cricket? Was it possible that one could change in that way in so short a time? I could scarcely believe the evidence of my own eyes. When I informed her that Harry was very ill, and that we all thought he was going to die, she started, gazed wildly at me for a moment, then burst into tears.
“‘I was in hopes I would go first,’ she said, ‘but I can follow him soon; there will be no money up there to keep us apart.’
“When I repeated her very words to him he was deeply affected, which increased my hopes of a reconciliation. He was greatly changed in many respects, and I thought the prospects of an understanding were brightening. The time was near at hand when I was to go to Philadelphia again to take my last course before receiving my diploma. Mr. Rockland had at last consented that Lottie and I should be married when I returned. During the summer Viola contracted a large number of debts, after having exhausted her cash income. Her guardian was very greatly annoyed and embarrassed by the demands of the creditors, and was threatening to resign his office as guardian. The trustees in New York were complaining of the continuous calls made on them for money, and had promptly refused to encourage such extravagance. I must, however, do Viola the justice to say that she did not squander the money where it would do no good, but was distributing it among the worthy poor people of the city. I was invited, one day, to go with her on a visit among the suffering people who were the recipients of her bounty, and, before I had finished the visit, I had occasion to change the unfavorable opinion I had formed in regard to her conduct. She went about the matter in a business-like manner; interrogated a family, ascertained what was needed to make them comfortable, gave an order on a merchant for the articles, and passed on to the next family, repeating the same good work there. I saw large numbers of ragged children clinging to her skirts and pressing kisses on her hands, while sickly mothers were praying for Heaven’s richest blessings to fall on the dear angel who had kept their children from starving. As I witnessed those affecting scenes, I was more inclined to indorse Viola’s course than I was to condemn it.
“The first of October found me again in Philadelphia, hard at work and full of bright hopes as to the future—reading Lottie’s sweet letters of love, and thinking of the happy day that was soon to make her my wife.
“One morning some three months after my arrival in Philadelphia, I was seated at the breakfast table of the Girard Hotel, when a servant laid a letter on my plate. I saw from the postmark that it was from Memphis, and I recognized the handwriting as Harry’s; I lost no time, of course, in opening it. Before I had read it half through I was perfectly paralyzed with horror, and made an effort to rise from my seat with a view of going immediately to my room. I staggered like a man intoxicated, and would have fallen to the floor, but that the steward caught me and kindly led me from the room.
“‘Your letter brings you bad news, I fear, Mr. Demar! You seem to be quite overcome; shall I get you a glass of wine, sir?’
“‘No, thank you,’ I groaned, rather than spoke; ‘help me to my room—I wish to be alone.’
“Several of my friends, seeing that something serious had happened, surrounded me, insisting that I should tell them what the matter was, but I begged them to leave me, as I wished to be alone.
“‘It is nothing, my friends,’ said I, ‘in which you can be of any assistance to me. I have received awful news from home, and shall take the first train to go there. I implore you leave me alone; I must think, I must act, and that immediately.’
“My request was complied with, and the steward kindly assisted me to my room, and left me alone. My hands trembled so I scarcely could hold the letter still long enough to finish reading it; and when I read it to you—which I mean to do—you will not be surprised at the manner in which its contents shook my nerves. It is true that I had been anticipating evil, but never had dreamed of such an awful thing as was described in Harry’s letter; my mind was not prepared for such dreadful news. I turned the paper on which the fatal news was written over and over; read and re-read the lines, endeavoring to find something that would raise a doubtas to the handwriting; but no, it was Harry’s hand beyond all question—the awful tidings were too true. I fell on a sofa, buried my face in my hands, and endeavored to collect my scattered thoughts, in order that I might take such action as the nature of the case demanded. How long I remained in that position I am unable to say, but it was a great while before I could regain composure sufficient to write. As soon as I could command my nerves I hastily penned the following note:
“‘DR. VANNESSE:“‘Dear Sir—I would esteem it a very great favor if you would visit me at my room at the Girard Hotel without delay, as I wish to consult you about a matter of the gravest importance. News of a most distressing character has just reached me from my home in Memphis, Tennessee, which makes it necessary for me to go there immediately. I would have gone to your quarters, but the shock caused by the awful news has almost prostrated me; hence I must implore you to come to me.“‘Respectfully,“‘EDWARDDEMAR.’
“‘DR. VANNESSE:
“‘Dear Sir—I would esteem it a very great favor if you would visit me at my room at the Girard Hotel without delay, as I wish to consult you about a matter of the gravest importance. News of a most distressing character has just reached me from my home in Memphis, Tennessee, which makes it necessary for me to go there immediately. I would have gone to your quarters, but the shock caused by the awful news has almost prostrated me; hence I must implore you to come to me.
“‘Respectfully,“‘EDWARDDEMAR.’
“I rang the bell; it was answered by a little boy.
“‘Take this note to Doctor Vannesse, at his rooms, over at the Continental Hotel, as quickly as you can; tell the porter to come up after my baggage at one o’clock, and have it checked to Memphis; and tell the clerk to prepare my bill—I wish to settle it,’ were the orders I gave to the bell boy.
“Then I began to pack my trunks and arrange everything for my journey southward, while the only consoling thought that came to my relief was that I should soon see Lottie, at all events. The bell boy had been gone with my note but a very few moments when Doctor Vannesse came dashing into my room, his handsome features blazing with excitement.
“‘Demar, what on earth has happened? You look like a corpse! tell me, quick, I beseech you! It must be something dreadful to make you look so pale!’
“‘Indeed it is dreadful! nay, it is horrible! I never have heard of such a thing before, in all the days of my life.’
“‘No doubt, no doubt whatever; but why do you not tell me what it is?’
“‘Be seated, doctor,’ said I, ‘and you shall know; but first let me ask you to furnish me the name of the best and mostexperienced detective officer in Philadelphia. I want one to go with me to Memphis. We have splendid officers there, but I am requested to bring one from here, so that we can have the services of both departments. There is a strange case to be worked up; great skill and experience will be required, as I think, and I sent for you to get your advice about the employment of some one here whose reputation is his recommendation.’
“‘Dabbs, Zip Dabbs is the man you want; if he can’t work up your case, it is not workable. He can pump all the secrets out of a man, while he makes the fellow think he is receiving, instead of giving, information. I guess you have heard of Zip Dabbs—everybody knows him by reputation—he is the very man you want; I’ll go with you to see him; it is doubtful whether you can induce him to go with you so far from his usual field of action; then it might cost you more than you are willing to pay—he charges very high for his services.’
“‘I care not for his charges,’ was my reply; ‘he shall be weighted down with money, if he wants it; money is no object with us in this case.’
“‘Then I advise you to go and see Zip at once, for he worships money, and will go with you to the end of the world if you will pay him well. You have, of course, heard the old maxim, “set a thief to catch a thief;” well, that applies to Zip Dabbs, with double compound force; he is well acquainted with the inside walls of many prisons, and has spent a great part of his life therein; but he has discovered a great secret, and that is, that he can make more money by putting other men in the penitentiary than he can by going there himself. He can change from a well-dressed politician to a dray driver in five minutes; and the change is so radical that no one can detect him. I have seen him spading a garden, in an old red flannel shirt, the hottest day of the summer season, and at night, dressed with exquisite taste, making the most melodious music on a piano. He is a splendid musician—sings and plays as well as anybody. He is as industrious as a honey bee, a splendid piano tuner, and, by this means, often gains admission to high circles where he wishes to obtain secrets that are locked safely from ordinary people. He is the most extraordinary man I ever saw; plays political demagogue toperfection; makes a splendid speech when he sets his head to the business; can change from a green, bashful back-woods Hoosier to a polished man of the world in ten minutes. He has reduced the art of disguising to a perfect science, and can make his way through locks without keys. I hope you will be able to engage him; he is the very man you want. But, by the by, old fellow, you have not informed me what has happened that causes you to want a detective.’
“‘Please let us go and see this man first. I wish to leave on the 2:30 train this afternoon; he may want time to get ready—we had better see him first. I can talk with you more at leisure after we have conferred with Mr. Dabbs. If you will accompany me I shall be under many obligations, and then I will detail to you the unfortunate intelligence which has made it necessary for me to employ a sharp detective.’
“‘Ah, yes! yes, you are right, Mr. Demar; I see you understand how to economize time; that’s quite a gift; time, you know, rolls on, whether we roll or not. It is a great thing to know how to roll on so as never to be behind time. We can go and find Mr. Dabbs first, and confer with him; then, while we talk matters over, he can make his arrangements so as to be ready to go with you.’
“‘Come along then, Demar; we’ll go to Dabbs’ quarters now. He holds forth on Chestnut street, just below Independence Hall; you may have noticed his sign sticking on a shabby panel at the foot of the stairs, on the right as you go down the street, beyond the hall. Queer man is Dabbs; you had better let me do the talking, as I know better how to manage him, perhaps, than a mere stranger would. I hope we shall find him disengaged, though it would be the merest accident if we did, for he is nearly always busy; he does more work than all the other detectives in the city. By the by, here’s his headquarters now; shabby quarters, aren’t they? Seems to me if I could coin money as he does, I’d rent more comfortable rooms. Just look at the dirt on that floor! don’t think it has been swept since the Declaration of Independence. I declare, I can’t see how people can stand so much dirt. Phew! what an infernal stench comes up through that hole! I must call the attention of the sanitary board to it; I declare,it is abominable, detestable! But come along, and let us get away from this place as soon as we can.’
“‘Where is Dabbs?’ inquired Doctor Vannesse of a little squint-eyed man with a very sharp nose, the end of which seemed to be making a desperate effort to get into his mouth.
“‘Gone out, sir,’ was the answer, made in a voice that sounded like the grunt of a hog.
“‘I guessed he was out, sir, as it is very plain that he is not in!’ said the doctor, angrily.
“I confess that the man’s very looks was an insult, and his voice was worse than assault and battery. He was smoking a cheap cigar, his shirt-front all stained with tobacco juice; his little round head was covered with a profusion of coarse black hair, standing out like porcupine quills, and I thought he was drunk as soon as I saw him.
“‘When will Dabbs be in?’ asked the doctor.
“‘Dunno,’ was the grunt.
“‘Where can he be found?’
“‘Dunno.’
“‘What do you know about Dabbs?’
“‘Nuthin’.’
“‘Come along, Demar—that fellow’s drunk. Maybe we can find some one on the next floor who can give us some information.’
“We had not reached the door when I heard some one behind me call Doctor Vannesse in a most pleasant voice, and turning round, we discovered the sharp-nosed man laughing as if he would shake himself to pieces.
“‘Ha, ha, ha! didn’t know me, did you, doc? thought I was drunk, too, ha, ha, ha! Come back and take seats; what can I do for you?’
“I was filled with astonishment; he was the very man we were looking for, so completely disguised that Doctor Vannesse, who had seen him a thousand times, did not recognize him. I never heard a more pleasant tone of voice, and his manners were those of a well-bred gentleman.
“‘By Jove, Dabbs!’ exclaimed the doctor. ‘I came very near knocking you down with a chair; who would have thought it was you? What’s up, Dabbs, that makes you look like old Nick’s engineer?’
“‘Some of old Nick’s agents have been out on an excursion, but I’ve got ‘em jugged; had just finished up the job five minutes before you came in. It’s a case of poisoning—always very difficult to work up, you know—but I peeled the peach at last. They had the wrong man arrested, as is usual in such cases, but I unearthed the guilty one, and he’s sure to get a through ticket.’
“‘Well, Dabbs, Mr. Demar here, who is a friend of mine, has a job on hand which he wishes you to work up; he wants you to go with him to Memphis; money is no object in this case—the pay will be liberal. Can you go?’
“‘I guess so, unless the boss has something on hand, just wait here a moment—I’ll go and see him. Nothing would suit me better than a trip down in Dixie.’
“Thus saying, he disappeared through a back door, leaving the doctor and me alone.
“‘Deuced sharp fellow, I assure you, Demar—works like a beaver, and hangs on like a badger; never fails to bring the truth to the surface; I hope you will secure him.’
“‘I shall consider myself lucky, indeed, if I can take him with me to Memphis. The case he has been telling us about is somewhat similar to the one I have on hand.’
“‘Ah, indeed! then he will be the better prepared to work it up; by the way, here he comes now. How is it, Dabbs, can you go?’
“‘Yes, it is all right; when do you wish me to start, Mr. Demar?’
“‘On the 2:30 train this afternoon—Pittsburg line; can you be ready by that time?’
“‘Oh, yes, I’m always ready; let me know the nature of the case you wish me to investigate. It may be necessary to send a telegram immediately; nothing like getting an early start in affairs of this kind; a warm track is much easier to follow than a cold one. I happen to have an old partner in Memphis, which I consider quite a lucky thing in this instance; I’ll send a dispatch directing him what to do until I arrive. Mr. Tadpoddle will be of invaluable service to me, for he has worked in Memphis, in my line, for many years. Give me your case at once, Mr. Demar, and then I’ll telegraph Mr. Tadpoddle what to do.’
“‘This will lead you into the light of the matter, Mr. Dabbs,’ I said, handing him the letter I had received from Harry.
“When he had read the letter he handed it back to me, saying:
“‘Bad job, Mr. Demar; these kind of cases are very difficult to manage; but Tadpoddle and I can do it if it can be done. I have just finished up a case similar to this one, and I must say that crimes of that kind are increasing fearfully; and the worst of it is the suspicion, in a majority of such cases, falls on the wrong man; I trust it will prove so in this one. If it should, however, turn out that they have arrested the right one, I must say it is a most horrible affair. I am glad that your friend Wallingford acted so promptly in having the premises placed in charge of an officer—it will facilitate our work very much; then it prevents any smuggling, or putting out of tracks by accomplices, which is often done by partners in crime. You may go now, Mr. Demar; I’ll meet you at the depot in time for the 2:30 train; I have nothing to do but pack up my traps, which won’t take many minutes.’
“‘Well, Demar,’ said Doctor Vannesse, ‘let us go to your room now, and then I will hear a history of this case of yours.’
“I went by the telegraph office and sent a dispatch to Harry, informing him that I would start immediately, accompanied by the best detective officer in the city. ‘Guard the premises closely—life and death may depend on that,’ were the closing words of my dispatch. Arriving at my room, I handed Harry’s letter to Doctor Vannesse, and while he was reading I sat and watched the changes in his countenance wrought by the dreadful news it contained.
“‘By Jove! Demar, this is most horrible! It beats anything I ever heard of; do you think she is guilty?’
“‘If she committed the murder she was insane—she never did it while in her proper mind; she was more like an angel than a murderess. The idea that she committed murder for money is absurd; she hated money, and was scattering her fortune promiscuously among the poor and needy. There has been a strangeness in her conduct for the last eight months which has greatly puzzled her friends, and it may bepossible that her mind was not right. She had had a misunderstanding with a young gentleman to whom she was very much attached.’
“‘Ah, yes! I see how it is; she has been laboring under temporary insanity,’ said the doctor; ‘but I fear that will not avail her in this case. The pleas of insanity are becoming so frequent that all courts view them with suspicion; I most earnestly hope you will be able to establish her innocence. Write to me, Demar, often, and keep me posted as to the progress of this case; I shall not be able to discard it from my mind until I know the final result. Good-by, old fellow, I must leave you now; success to you. My respects to that charming girl you are always talking about; I’d give a quarter’s salary to see her. If she is half so pretty as you say she is, it would delight me to look at her; Lottie, yes, Lottie—that’s the name, I believe—by the by, a very pretty name for a pretty girl; adieu.’
“When the doctor closed the door behind him as he passed out I began to arrange my baggage, while Lottie’s dear image floated before my mind; and my heart fluttered with excitement when I thought of the great pleasure it would afford me to be with her once more. I was at the depot twenty minutes ahead of time, and impatient and nervous; so much excited that I could not sit five minutes in one place. I think my pulse must have counted at least ninety to the minute; I snatched up a newspaper and tried to read, but couldn’t do it; looked at my watch a dozen times—compared it with the railway clock as often—then began to notice the crowd of travelers as they came hurrying in, hoping to see Dabbs among them, but he did not arrive until the conductor cried ‘All aboard!’ when I saw him elbowing his way through the crowd.
“‘I was afraid you would be left, Mr. Dabbs,’ I said, as he came up.
“‘Never was left in my life, sir; don’t think of me at all; I’m one of those kind of fellows that ain’t left; I know the value of time, sir; have been dispatching instructions to Tadpoddle; he’s got ’em before now—good, we’re off.’
“I found it a great relief to my restless mind to be with Dabbs, for he was an incessant talker, well posted on generalsubjects, and appeared to be willing to impart what he knew without any questions from me. He gave me an interesting history of many notorious criminals whose dark deeds had been brought to light by him as a detective officer. I would interest you with a repetition of them here, but my business is to describe occurrences more directly connected with my story. I will, therefore, read you Harry’s letter, as I think it will throw more light on the matter now in hand than anything I could say. Here it is:
“‘DEARED—Come home as quickly as you can; we are all in the deepest distress; a great misfortune has fallen on us, and we need you here to help us. Poor Lottie is in great sorrow, and your presence may help to console her. I beseech you not to lose a moment in coming. Viola is in jail, charged with the murder of her little brother. Oh, it is horrible! To think that poor girl should be thrust into a dungeon—like a common murderer—when she is as innocent as a lamb! the very thought makes the blood run cold in my veins. My conscience tells me that I am responsible, to some extent, for this terrible calamity, though not intentionally. The bare idea that Viola would commit such a foul, cruel murder, is preposterous! If every man, woman and child in the city of Memphis were to swear she is guilty, I would believe they were mistaken. Some awful mystery, some deep-laid scheme of villainy, has mixed itself up with the whole affair, and I mean to devote my life to the task of unearthing it. I have registered a solemn vow in Heaven never to seek rest until the perpetrator of this horrible crime is brought to justice. That the poor child has been cruelly murdered by some treacherous, cowardly villain, is a fact beyond all dispute; but the perpetrator has covered up his tracks so effectually that I fear we shall have no little difficulty in catching him. I love Viola; and since this trouble has come upon her I love her more than ever. I hate to use extravagant language, but the circumstances will justify it; I pray God to give me courage, strength and prudence, until I shall have unraveled this strange mystery. I must confess that the evidence points directly to Viola as the perpetrator of this unnatural murder; and there is where the mystery comes in. I happen to know that she loved her little brother devotedly, and instead of killing him, I believe she would have given up her own life to save his. She is an angel in gentleness, as pure as Diana, and I would stake my life, and all my hopes of salvation, on her innocence; yet many people believe her guilty. The poor child was murdered by poison, administered in his medicine. The post-mortem examination developed this fact, so as to place it beyond question, large quantities of strychnine being found in the stomach. I was led to hope that the evidence would establish the fact that the poison had been administered by mistake;but that hope was extinguished when Doctor Dodson made his statement. The child had been suffering with chills and fever for several days, and Doctor Dodson was called in to take charge of the case; he left five small doses of quinine with Viola, directing her to administer one dose every two hours, commencing at four o’clockP. M.The quinine was wrapped in small slips of blue paper, and the bottle out of which the doctor took it was found setting on the mantel, where he had placed it when he measured out the quantity to be given the patient; and after the child was dead two of the doses of quinine which the doctor had made up were found on the table by the bedside, which, upon examination, were found to be unmixed with any poison; that, of course, destroyed the theory that strychnine had been administered by mistake. Viola says that she gave the child three doses of the medicine, commencing promptly at four o’clock, as instructed by the doctor, and that soon after she gave him the third dose he began to complain of a burning in his stomach, which continued to grow worse until she became alarmed and called a servant to go after Doctor Dodson. The servant was gone a long time, and, when he returned, said that he had been unable to find the doctor; that he had been called to see a patient, and no one could tell when he would be back. By this time the child was in convulsions; Mr. Ragland and his wife were at the theatre, and no other persons were on the premises except the servants, one of whom was dispatched with instructions to bring the first physician he could find, while another was sent to the theatre after Mr. Ragland. The servant who had been sent for a doctor returned in about an hour, accompanied by Doctor Plaxico. It was ten minutes after ten when the doctor arrived, and he found the child in a dying condition. Mr. Ragland and his wife reached home a few minutes before the doctor. The child expired at 11.45P. M.He had been dead twenty minutes when Doctor Dodson came in, completely overwhelmed with astonishment at finding his patient dead. Doctor Plaxico requested Doctor Dodson to grant him a private interview, and they went into another room, when Doctor Plaxico closed the door, turned the key in the lock, and made a cautious survey of the room to assure himself that they were alone; then approaching Doctor Dodson, he spoke in a low, cautious tone, as if measuring every word he uttered:“‘“The poor child has been murdered, as sure as God is on His throne.”“‘“Merciful Heavens! Doctor Plaxico, don’t tell me that!” exclaimed Doctor Dodson, as he staggered to a sofa.“‘“I tell you the truth, and nothing but what I know to be truth! Would to Heaven it were not so, but the evidence is overwhelming. That boy died from the effects of poison administered to him by some one in this very house, this very night; I know what I say, and mean what I assert.”“‘“Stop, Plaxico! stop, I implore you; you don’t know what you are saying; you have been taking over-much wine.”“‘“No, you are wrong there! not a drop have I tasted within the last twenty-four hours; my brain was never more clear than it is this moment; and again I tell you the child has been murdered!”“‘“Don’t saymurder! it takes malice to constitute murder; who could bear malice against an innocent little boy like him?”“‘“Does the highwayman bear malice against the poor traveler when he kills him for his money?”“‘“But who gets any money by the death of this poor child?”“‘“The very one who administered the death-dealing drug.”“‘”’Tis untrue! and who utters it is an idiot!”“‘“Keep calm, Doctor Dodson, I beseech you; I can forgive your strong language, knowing, as I do, that you will soon be sorry for having used it; but you will be of my opinion as to this case before long. We must make an autopsy, and then you will doubtless be convinced that the child has been dosed to death with poison.”“‘Doctor Dodson leaned back on the sofa, buried his face in his hands and groaned. After remaining silent for a long time, endeavoring to collect his thoughts, he said:“‘“What evidence have you that causes you to conclude the child has been poisoned?”“‘“Having seen several persons die from its effects, and seeing the boy die from it this very night. I knew it was poison as soon as I arrived, and might have saved him if I had been here an hour sooner; but it was too late when I came.”“‘“Is that all your evidence?”“‘“No, no! not by any means; I have found something which I guess will startle you when you see it; look at that and tell me if you know what it is?”“‘“Of course—that is a small phial of strychnine; but what does that signify; will you please tell me?”“‘“I found this in a little drawer of a bureau in Miss Bramlett’s room. Her brother died from the effects of poison, and she was ordered by you to administer quinine to her brother, but she administered something else. Do I speak sufficiently plain? Do you understand me? Shall I say anything more by way of explaining what I mean?”“‘“Hush, hush! for Heaven’s sake, stop! give me time to think. How many papers of the quinine had been given to the child when you arrived?”“‘“Miss Bramlett said that she administered three doses, and that the last one made her brother sick!”“‘“Did you find the doses that had not been given to the patient?”“‘“I found two papers on the table near the bed containing quinine, and have them here now.”“‘“Have you examined them to see whether they contain quinine or something else?”“‘“Yes, their contents is pure, unadulterated quinine.”“‘“You don’t mean to say that you think Miss Bramlett has intentionally killed her brother!”“‘“But I do mean to say that very thing; who else could have done it? How could it have been a mistake? Didn’t she administer the medicine? Hasn’t the boy died from poison? Doesn’t she make a large fortune by his death? Wasn’t she alone with him all the time? What was she doing with this bottle of strychnine in her bureau? All the lawyers in Tennessee can’t save her neck!”“‘“Plaxico, you are crazy as a March hare! You don’t know what you are talking about! I knew that girl when she was a mere child—have known her ever since—and I tell you she is one of the most amiable, sweet, gentle, pure girls in the world. She doted on her little brother, and it is absurd to say that she has murdered him. As for money, she despises it, and has been squandering it by thousands, among the worthy poor of the city. I think the best policy for you to pursue is to keep your absurd opinions to yourself. The poor girl has plenty of sorrow to endure, without your help to increase it.”“‘Doctor Plaxico began to pace the floor rapidly; after a few minutes spent in that way he squared himself in front of Doctor Dodson, and, looking him earnestly in the face for several seconds in silence, he said:“‘“Dodson, I have many faults, I know—faults of which I am heartily ashamed—I have a weakness, when it comes to wine and other stimulants; but I profess to be an honest, Christian gentleman—a God-fearing man, if you please—and I cannot get the consent of my conscience to let this matter drop here. As I am a living man, I believe that child has been murdered—most cruelly deprived of his young life by his unnatural, heartless sister! Oh, sir! my heart grows faint when I think of it. She, whose duty it was to love and guard that young life, has slipped in instead like a thief and stolen it. Of all the crimes that ever were committed, this one appears to me to be the blackest, the most cowardly and damnable!”“‘“Is it not possible that you may be mistaken, after all, as to the cause of the child’s death?”“‘“Not at all; the symptoms were unmistakable and certain.”“‘“What course do you mean to pursue in regard to the case?”“‘“Notify the coroner, of course, have an inquest, make an autopsy, lay the evidence before the civil authorities, and then let the law take its course.”“‘“Be it so, then, and I pray God to give that poor girl strength to endure this great calamity, for of her purity and innocence I have no doubt whatever; and you will some day regret the share you had in bringing this suspicion down on her.”“‘“I never shall regret doing what is my plain duty; though I shall be more than delighted if it can appear that she is innocent; but I beg to say that I think you do me injustice when you speak of my bringing the suspicion down on her. It rather seemsto me that the circumstances are responsible for doing that, and not me.”“‘“One question I forgot to ask—have you said anything to Miss Bramlett about the phial of strychnine which you say you found in her bureau drawer?”“‘“No, I did not; nor have I mentioned it to any one but you. Mr. and Mrs. Ragland know nothing whatever about my suspicions.”“‘“Wouldn’t it be advisable not to mention your suspicions until after the autopsy?”“‘“Probably it would; if you advise that course, I shall gladly concur.”“‘“Be it so, then; let the coroner be notified at once.”“‘I was soundly sleeping in my bed when a messenger from Doctor Dodson came thundering at my door, demanding admittance. Before I was fully awake he informed me that the doctor wanted to see me as soon as I could come to his office. The messenger said that something serious must have happened, for he never had seen the doctor looking so nervous and unhappy. As soon as I could dress myself I hastened to the office. The night was very dark, the streets swimming in mud, the dim lamps at the corners cast a pale, sickly light over the pavement, my boot-heels made a loud, lonely sound as they struck the hard stones, while the messenger walked quietly behind me. My mind was in a fit condition to anticipate coming evil. And strange as you may think it, I felt sure that something awful had happened, and that Viola was in some way mixed up with it. The messenger had by no means exaggerated in his description of Doctor Dodson’s excitement. I never had seen him in such a state of agitation as I found him when I reached his office. He hurriedly gave me the details of what had occurred, in substance as I have given them to you, and I was astonished at the coolness with which I listened to the horrible narrative, but I believe I have become callous, and perhaps it is best for me to be so, as it will enable me to do the work before me with the deliberation that is so necessary. Doctor Dodson, Heaven bless him! agrees with me in the opinion that Viola is innocent, and will aid me in establishing it before the world. The first thing I did was to inform Lottie of what had happened, and send her to stay with Viola, in order to sustain her, as much as possible, under this great affliction. Lottie is in great distress, but is a perfect little heroine, and has been with Viola ever since the troubles commenced, indefatigable in her efforts to comfort and encourage her. The next step was to see the newspaper managers and induce them not to mention the matter in the papers. I had a double object in view, in that respect; in the first place, I wanted to keep Viola’s name out of public print; my next motive was to keep everything as private as possible, in order to let the detectives have a better chance to work up the case. Doctor Dodson went to see the coroner—who is a good friend of his—and thatofficer agreed that the inquest might be held privately. Doctors Dodson and Plaxico made a post-mortem examination, when the evidences of poison were unmistakable. The inquest was held in Mr. Ragland’s house, and only a few witnesses were examined. The verdict of the jury would have been different, no doubt, but for the phial of strychnine found in Viola’s bureau drawer, and what is most singular and unaccountable to me, is that Viola acknowledges she purchased the strychnine, but refuses to tell for what purpose. That circumstance alone caused the jury to render a verdict implicating her. Here is the exact wording of the verdict, after going on with the ordinary formalities and recitations as to dates, venue, etc.:“‘“We, the jury, do find that Harry W. Bramlett, whose body now lies before us, died from the effects of poison administered to him by Miss Viola Bramlett.”“‘I was present when the verdict was rendered, and I did not faint; in fact, you would have been surprised to see how calmly I received the awful news that I knew would consign Viola to the walls of a dungeon. I could not account for my calmness, unless it was produced by hopeless despair; yet I am by no means hopeless, for I tell you, Eddie, as certain as there is a God, Viola is innocent, and I mean to prove it. She knows something more than she is willing to tell, but I will yet influence her to tell all. She has sustained herself remarkably well through the trying ordeal; but there appears to be a callousness in her manner that frightens me. She seems to be indifferent as to her fate—says she don’t wish to live, but I hope she will be better as soon as the excitement passes off. Bring with you one of the most experienced detectives you can find in Philadelphia; don’t mind the cost; I have but little money myself, but my friends will aid me. Come without a moment’s delay. I have taken the precaution to have the premises closely guarded, in order to let the detectives have a fair chance to investigate the case. Everything in the two rooms occupied by Viola and her brother remains just as it was when the child died, and I have no doubt that a skillful detective will be able to unearth something that will explain the whole matter. I think I could put my finger on the guilty party in ten minutes, but what good would that do unless I could prove it? If my suspicions prove to be well founded, I shall raise a whirlwind here that will startle some people who feel very secure now. I will not breathe my suspicions to any one until I am able to confirm them. I believe I am becoming superstitious; for there seems to be an invisible influence at work upon me. It is the same feeling that told me to ride on the pilot of the engine when I saved Viola’s life. That same something tells me that I will again save her, and that she will be my wife. But this letter is too long, anyway, and I will sign the name of“‘Yours truly,“‘HARRY.’
“‘DEARED—Come home as quickly as you can; we are all in the deepest distress; a great misfortune has fallen on us, and we need you here to help us. Poor Lottie is in great sorrow, and your presence may help to console her. I beseech you not to lose a moment in coming. Viola is in jail, charged with the murder of her little brother. Oh, it is horrible! To think that poor girl should be thrust into a dungeon—like a common murderer—when she is as innocent as a lamb! the very thought makes the blood run cold in my veins. My conscience tells me that I am responsible, to some extent, for this terrible calamity, though not intentionally. The bare idea that Viola would commit such a foul, cruel murder, is preposterous! If every man, woman and child in the city of Memphis were to swear she is guilty, I would believe they were mistaken. Some awful mystery, some deep-laid scheme of villainy, has mixed itself up with the whole affair, and I mean to devote my life to the task of unearthing it. I have registered a solemn vow in Heaven never to seek rest until the perpetrator of this horrible crime is brought to justice. That the poor child has been cruelly murdered by some treacherous, cowardly villain, is a fact beyond all dispute; but the perpetrator has covered up his tracks so effectually that I fear we shall have no little difficulty in catching him. I love Viola; and since this trouble has come upon her I love her more than ever. I hate to use extravagant language, but the circumstances will justify it; I pray God to give me courage, strength and prudence, until I shall have unraveled this strange mystery. I must confess that the evidence points directly to Viola as the perpetrator of this unnatural murder; and there is where the mystery comes in. I happen to know that she loved her little brother devotedly, and instead of killing him, I believe she would have given up her own life to save his. She is an angel in gentleness, as pure as Diana, and I would stake my life, and all my hopes of salvation, on her innocence; yet many people believe her guilty. The poor child was murdered by poison, administered in his medicine. The post-mortem examination developed this fact, so as to place it beyond question, large quantities of strychnine being found in the stomach. I was led to hope that the evidence would establish the fact that the poison had been administered by mistake;but that hope was extinguished when Doctor Dodson made his statement. The child had been suffering with chills and fever for several days, and Doctor Dodson was called in to take charge of the case; he left five small doses of quinine with Viola, directing her to administer one dose every two hours, commencing at four o’clockP. M.The quinine was wrapped in small slips of blue paper, and the bottle out of which the doctor took it was found setting on the mantel, where he had placed it when he measured out the quantity to be given the patient; and after the child was dead two of the doses of quinine which the doctor had made up were found on the table by the bedside, which, upon examination, were found to be unmixed with any poison; that, of course, destroyed the theory that strychnine had been administered by mistake. Viola says that she gave the child three doses of the medicine, commencing promptly at four o’clock, as instructed by the doctor, and that soon after she gave him the third dose he began to complain of a burning in his stomach, which continued to grow worse until she became alarmed and called a servant to go after Doctor Dodson. The servant was gone a long time, and, when he returned, said that he had been unable to find the doctor; that he had been called to see a patient, and no one could tell when he would be back. By this time the child was in convulsions; Mr. Ragland and his wife were at the theatre, and no other persons were on the premises except the servants, one of whom was dispatched with instructions to bring the first physician he could find, while another was sent to the theatre after Mr. Ragland. The servant who had been sent for a doctor returned in about an hour, accompanied by Doctor Plaxico. It was ten minutes after ten when the doctor arrived, and he found the child in a dying condition. Mr. Ragland and his wife reached home a few minutes before the doctor. The child expired at 11.45P. M.He had been dead twenty minutes when Doctor Dodson came in, completely overwhelmed with astonishment at finding his patient dead. Doctor Plaxico requested Doctor Dodson to grant him a private interview, and they went into another room, when Doctor Plaxico closed the door, turned the key in the lock, and made a cautious survey of the room to assure himself that they were alone; then approaching Doctor Dodson, he spoke in a low, cautious tone, as if measuring every word he uttered:
“‘“The poor child has been murdered, as sure as God is on His throne.”
“‘“Merciful Heavens! Doctor Plaxico, don’t tell me that!” exclaimed Doctor Dodson, as he staggered to a sofa.
“‘“I tell you the truth, and nothing but what I know to be truth! Would to Heaven it were not so, but the evidence is overwhelming. That boy died from the effects of poison administered to him by some one in this very house, this very night; I know what I say, and mean what I assert.”
“‘“Stop, Plaxico! stop, I implore you; you don’t know what you are saying; you have been taking over-much wine.”
“‘“No, you are wrong there! not a drop have I tasted within the last twenty-four hours; my brain was never more clear than it is this moment; and again I tell you the child has been murdered!”
“‘“Don’t saymurder! it takes malice to constitute murder; who could bear malice against an innocent little boy like him?”
“‘“Does the highwayman bear malice against the poor traveler when he kills him for his money?”
“‘“But who gets any money by the death of this poor child?”
“‘“The very one who administered the death-dealing drug.”
“‘”’Tis untrue! and who utters it is an idiot!”
“‘“Keep calm, Doctor Dodson, I beseech you; I can forgive your strong language, knowing, as I do, that you will soon be sorry for having used it; but you will be of my opinion as to this case before long. We must make an autopsy, and then you will doubtless be convinced that the child has been dosed to death with poison.”
“‘Doctor Dodson leaned back on the sofa, buried his face in his hands and groaned. After remaining silent for a long time, endeavoring to collect his thoughts, he said:
“‘“What evidence have you that causes you to conclude the child has been poisoned?”
“‘“Having seen several persons die from its effects, and seeing the boy die from it this very night. I knew it was poison as soon as I arrived, and might have saved him if I had been here an hour sooner; but it was too late when I came.”
“‘“Is that all your evidence?”
“‘“No, no! not by any means; I have found something which I guess will startle you when you see it; look at that and tell me if you know what it is?”
“‘“Of course—that is a small phial of strychnine; but what does that signify; will you please tell me?”
“‘“I found this in a little drawer of a bureau in Miss Bramlett’s room. Her brother died from the effects of poison, and she was ordered by you to administer quinine to her brother, but she administered something else. Do I speak sufficiently plain? Do you understand me? Shall I say anything more by way of explaining what I mean?”
“‘“Hush, hush! for Heaven’s sake, stop! give me time to think. How many papers of the quinine had been given to the child when you arrived?”
“‘“Miss Bramlett said that she administered three doses, and that the last one made her brother sick!”
“‘“Did you find the doses that had not been given to the patient?”
“‘“I found two papers on the table near the bed containing quinine, and have them here now.”
“‘“Have you examined them to see whether they contain quinine or something else?”
“‘“Yes, their contents is pure, unadulterated quinine.”
“‘“You don’t mean to say that you think Miss Bramlett has intentionally killed her brother!”
“‘“But I do mean to say that very thing; who else could have done it? How could it have been a mistake? Didn’t she administer the medicine? Hasn’t the boy died from poison? Doesn’t she make a large fortune by his death? Wasn’t she alone with him all the time? What was she doing with this bottle of strychnine in her bureau? All the lawyers in Tennessee can’t save her neck!”
“‘“Plaxico, you are crazy as a March hare! You don’t know what you are talking about! I knew that girl when she was a mere child—have known her ever since—and I tell you she is one of the most amiable, sweet, gentle, pure girls in the world. She doted on her little brother, and it is absurd to say that she has murdered him. As for money, she despises it, and has been squandering it by thousands, among the worthy poor of the city. I think the best policy for you to pursue is to keep your absurd opinions to yourself. The poor girl has plenty of sorrow to endure, without your help to increase it.”
“‘Doctor Plaxico began to pace the floor rapidly; after a few minutes spent in that way he squared himself in front of Doctor Dodson, and, looking him earnestly in the face for several seconds in silence, he said:
“‘“Dodson, I have many faults, I know—faults of which I am heartily ashamed—I have a weakness, when it comes to wine and other stimulants; but I profess to be an honest, Christian gentleman—a God-fearing man, if you please—and I cannot get the consent of my conscience to let this matter drop here. As I am a living man, I believe that child has been murdered—most cruelly deprived of his young life by his unnatural, heartless sister! Oh, sir! my heart grows faint when I think of it. She, whose duty it was to love and guard that young life, has slipped in instead like a thief and stolen it. Of all the crimes that ever were committed, this one appears to me to be the blackest, the most cowardly and damnable!”
“‘“Is it not possible that you may be mistaken, after all, as to the cause of the child’s death?”
“‘“Not at all; the symptoms were unmistakable and certain.”
“‘“What course do you mean to pursue in regard to the case?”
“‘“Notify the coroner, of course, have an inquest, make an autopsy, lay the evidence before the civil authorities, and then let the law take its course.”
“‘“Be it so, then, and I pray God to give that poor girl strength to endure this great calamity, for of her purity and innocence I have no doubt whatever; and you will some day regret the share you had in bringing this suspicion down on her.”
“‘“I never shall regret doing what is my plain duty; though I shall be more than delighted if it can appear that she is innocent; but I beg to say that I think you do me injustice when you speak of my bringing the suspicion down on her. It rather seemsto me that the circumstances are responsible for doing that, and not me.”
“‘“One question I forgot to ask—have you said anything to Miss Bramlett about the phial of strychnine which you say you found in her bureau drawer?”
“‘“No, I did not; nor have I mentioned it to any one but you. Mr. and Mrs. Ragland know nothing whatever about my suspicions.”
“‘“Wouldn’t it be advisable not to mention your suspicions until after the autopsy?”
“‘“Probably it would; if you advise that course, I shall gladly concur.”
“‘“Be it so, then; let the coroner be notified at once.”
“‘I was soundly sleeping in my bed when a messenger from Doctor Dodson came thundering at my door, demanding admittance. Before I was fully awake he informed me that the doctor wanted to see me as soon as I could come to his office. The messenger said that something serious must have happened, for he never had seen the doctor looking so nervous and unhappy. As soon as I could dress myself I hastened to the office. The night was very dark, the streets swimming in mud, the dim lamps at the corners cast a pale, sickly light over the pavement, my boot-heels made a loud, lonely sound as they struck the hard stones, while the messenger walked quietly behind me. My mind was in a fit condition to anticipate coming evil. And strange as you may think it, I felt sure that something awful had happened, and that Viola was in some way mixed up with it. The messenger had by no means exaggerated in his description of Doctor Dodson’s excitement. I never had seen him in such a state of agitation as I found him when I reached his office. He hurriedly gave me the details of what had occurred, in substance as I have given them to you, and I was astonished at the coolness with which I listened to the horrible narrative, but I believe I have become callous, and perhaps it is best for me to be so, as it will enable me to do the work before me with the deliberation that is so necessary. Doctor Dodson, Heaven bless him! agrees with me in the opinion that Viola is innocent, and will aid me in establishing it before the world. The first thing I did was to inform Lottie of what had happened, and send her to stay with Viola, in order to sustain her, as much as possible, under this great affliction. Lottie is in great distress, but is a perfect little heroine, and has been with Viola ever since the troubles commenced, indefatigable in her efforts to comfort and encourage her. The next step was to see the newspaper managers and induce them not to mention the matter in the papers. I had a double object in view, in that respect; in the first place, I wanted to keep Viola’s name out of public print; my next motive was to keep everything as private as possible, in order to let the detectives have a better chance to work up the case. Doctor Dodson went to see the coroner—who is a good friend of his—and thatofficer agreed that the inquest might be held privately. Doctors Dodson and Plaxico made a post-mortem examination, when the evidences of poison were unmistakable. The inquest was held in Mr. Ragland’s house, and only a few witnesses were examined. The verdict of the jury would have been different, no doubt, but for the phial of strychnine found in Viola’s bureau drawer, and what is most singular and unaccountable to me, is that Viola acknowledges she purchased the strychnine, but refuses to tell for what purpose. That circumstance alone caused the jury to render a verdict implicating her. Here is the exact wording of the verdict, after going on with the ordinary formalities and recitations as to dates, venue, etc.:
“‘“We, the jury, do find that Harry W. Bramlett, whose body now lies before us, died from the effects of poison administered to him by Miss Viola Bramlett.”
“‘I was present when the verdict was rendered, and I did not faint; in fact, you would have been surprised to see how calmly I received the awful news that I knew would consign Viola to the walls of a dungeon. I could not account for my calmness, unless it was produced by hopeless despair; yet I am by no means hopeless, for I tell you, Eddie, as certain as there is a God, Viola is innocent, and I mean to prove it. She knows something more than she is willing to tell, but I will yet influence her to tell all. She has sustained herself remarkably well through the trying ordeal; but there appears to be a callousness in her manner that frightens me. She seems to be indifferent as to her fate—says she don’t wish to live, but I hope she will be better as soon as the excitement passes off. Bring with you one of the most experienced detectives you can find in Philadelphia; don’t mind the cost; I have but little money myself, but my friends will aid me. Come without a moment’s delay. I have taken the precaution to have the premises closely guarded, in order to let the detectives have a fair chance to investigate the case. Everything in the two rooms occupied by Viola and her brother remains just as it was when the child died, and I have no doubt that a skillful detective will be able to unearth something that will explain the whole matter. I think I could put my finger on the guilty party in ten minutes, but what good would that do unless I could prove it? If my suspicions prove to be well founded, I shall raise a whirlwind here that will startle some people who feel very secure now. I will not breathe my suspicions to any one until I am able to confirm them. I believe I am becoming superstitious; for there seems to be an invisible influence at work upon me. It is the same feeling that told me to ride on the pilot of the engine when I saved Viola’s life. That same something tells me that I will again save her, and that she will be my wife. But this letter is too long, anyway, and I will sign the name of
“‘Yours truly,“‘HARRY.’
“When I arrived at Memphis I of course meant to see Lottie before any one else, but in going to Mrs. Rockland’s residence I had to pass Harry’s office. I hurried in to see him a moment, and to inquire about the dear one I was so anxious to see.
“‘How is Lottie?’ were the first words I uttered.
“‘She is well,’ said Harry, ‘but of course anxious to see you.’
“‘Where will I find her?’
“‘She is at the jail with Viola, where she spends most of the time; the truth of it is, Lottie has got more sense than all of us put together. She has exhibited more true courage and prudence in this late trouble than any one of us. Who is this gentleman with you?’
“‘Oh, yes, I beg pardon, Harry; I forgot to introduce Mr. Dabbs. Mr. Wallingford, Mr. Dabbs; he belongs to the detective service, and has come to assist us in this unfortunate business.’
“‘I am glad to see you here, Mr. Dabbs,’ said Harry, offering him a seat; this is a most distressing affair, and I hope you will go to work at once. As to money, I beg you to understand that it is no object in this case; you shall have what you want. I hope you will be able to unravel this most singular mystery.’
“‘I shall endeavor to do so, sir; and I must request you not to let any one know that you have engaged my services. We must act with great caution; these kind of cases are often found rather complicated and difficult to manage. I have an old friend here who has been for many years engaged in the detective service—perhaps you may know him—Mr. Tadpoddle?’
“‘No, I am not acquainted with him.’
“‘Well, he’s a sharp fellow. I’ll go look him up, and we’ll commence business at once. It will be necessary, Mr. Wallingford,for us to meet occasionally; where shall I find you when I want to communicate with you?’
“‘Here at my office; you can come in the back way, and enter the inner room, where no one will disturb us.’
“‘All right, then, you shall hear from me soon; good morning, sir,’ and Mr. Dabbs went out.
“‘What a strange-looking man he is, Eddie!’
“‘Yes, but they say he is the most skillful detective that ever operated in Philadelphia.’
“‘Well, if that is so, I must say he belies his looks.’
“‘Come, Harry, I must see Lottie; I cannot stop to talk now.’
“‘Wait a moment till I close the office, and I will go with you.’
“‘Don’t walk so fast, Ed,’ said Harry when we started toward the jail, ‘I can’t keep up with you; I know you want to see Lottie, but you need not go like a whirlwind.’
“I was compelled to slacken my pace, much against my will, for I wanted to fly to her who was more dear to me than all the world contained.
“‘Have you made any new discoveries about the poisoning since you wrote me?’
“‘Nothing definite, but we think we will be able to strike a track soon; there have been strange doings at Mr. Ragland’s house.’
“‘How does Viola bear her trouble?’
“‘Ah! Ed, there is the thing that puzzles me; she acts so strangely in the matter. I can’t understand her. She knows something about this business that she will not tell, though she has promised to explain all when her mind gets more composed.’
“‘Is your confidence in her innocence still unshaken?’
“I was truly sorry I had asked the question when Harry’s eyes met mine.
“‘How can you ask me such a question when you are so well aware of the confidence I have in that dear girl? Don’t you know how I love her? Don’t you know I would as soon suspect an angel from Heaven as Viola?’
“I was not surprised at the extravagant language used, because I was in love myself, and knew how Harry felt. Ihad not walked more than three steps on the jail floor when I heard Lottie’s well-known voice exclaim:
“‘That’s Eddie,—I know his walk!’ and in a moment her darling head was on my shoulder, while her tears of joy fell on my breast. ‘Eddie, I am so glad you have come back to help us out of our great troubles; we have been looking for you anxiously, and the moment I heard your step I knew whose it was.’
“My heart was so full of joy that I could not speak for some moments.
“‘Come, Ed,’ said Harry, ‘you are making a simpleton of yourself about Lottie; leave her and come with me; we must go to Viola; how is she to-day, sister?’
“‘Improving some little, I think, though she can’t shed tears. If she could only have a good hearty cry, and shed some tears, I believe it would do her a great deal of good. There is a settled look of hopeless despair on her face that frightens me.’
“‘Does she talk much?’
“‘No; she scarcely ever says a word, except to answer questions. I have tried every way I could think of to lead her into conversation, but without success. She eats scarcely enough to sustain life, though she ate more at breakfast this morning than at any one time since she has been here.’
“‘Go in, Lottie, and ask her if she will receive a visit from Edward and me.’
“Lottie returned in a few moments and informed us that Viola would receive us.
“‘When I told her that you and Eddie wanted to come in to see her I was delighted to see her face brighten up, and she spoke so quickly and said she would be delighted to see you; I think it is a favorable sign; it is the first time she has manifested the least interest about anything since she has been here.’
“I was prepared to see a great change in Viola’s appearance, but not for such a one as it was. Her face was as white as marble, and I never had seen such a look of anguish as was fixed on her countenance. She rose, as we entered, and offered me her hand—it was as cold as a lump of ice.
“‘How is your health, Miss Bramlett?’ I inquired.
“‘Very good, I thank you,’ was the faint reply.
“I never was so embarrassed in my life, and Harry, poor fellow, stood like a statue, unable to aid me; he was more confused than I was. Lottie, however, came to my assistance promptly.
“‘Sit down, Eddie; sit down, brother, and let us talk over old times, while Viola and I are at work. Here, Viola, hold the hank while I wind the thread on this ball.’
“Viola moved her seat so as to face Lottie, and held out her little white hands to receive the hank.
“‘There, now; Eddie, you sit on this side, so I can look at you while I work; you have been away so long I have almost forgotten how you look. I declare, you look much better than you did when you went away; don’t you think he does, Viola?’
“‘Yes,’ she replied sadly.
“I was delighted at Lottie’s skill in maneuvering to divert Viola and lead her into conversation; it was a clever piece of strategy, and, to some extent, succeeded. The jailer was an old school-mate of Harry’s, and this proved to be a fortunate circumstance, as it enabled us to secure for Viola a large room, well lighted and ventilated. Harry had caused the floor to be covered with a costly carpet of the most exquisite texture, and heavy damask curtains hung over the windows; then over the damask were hung others of snow-white lace. A bureau, wash-stand, wardrobe and bedstead of polished rosewood gave the room a cozy appearance, while a sofa with red silk cushions seemed to invite the weary body to lie down and rest. On the bureau sat two large china vases, both filled with choice flowers. One rocking-chair, with soft velvet cushions, and two common cane bottom chairs constituted the furniture that Harry had caused to be put in the room. He had even had a costly curtain hung over the heavy iron door, in order to hide from Viola’s sight everything calculated to remind her that she was a prisoner. There was nothing to be seen on the inside of the room that looked like the walls of a prison, but it was more like a sleeping apartment. Lottie had been no less thoughtful than her brother of Viola’s comfort, for she had brought old Roderick to the jail, and that chatty bird usually made things lively wherever he went. Apair of canaries occasionally enlivened the room with a song, from the little silver-mounted cage that sat on the top of the wardrobe. All these pets had been brought there by Lottie.
“‘Harry,’ said Lottie, ‘you come and finish winding this thread while I go and see about dinner; we are going to have a real old-fashioned dinner to-day; mind you don’t tangle my thread; Viola, as soon as you get through with that hank you’ll find three more in my basket; I want you to hold them while Harry winds them off; will you, dear?’
“‘Yes, Lottie,’ was the soft reply.
“‘Lottie loves Ed! Lottie loves Ed! here we come, Lottie!’ screamed old Roderick, who was peeping down from the top of the wardrobe.
“‘Hush up, you old tattler! you needn’t tell all my secrets before company,’ said Lottie; and, taking me by the arm: ‘Come, you must go and help me get dinner; we don’t uphold any idleness here.’
“I divined her object, and followed her from the room, as it was evident she wanted to leave Harry and Viola alone.
“‘You are the sweetest darling in the whole world, Lottie!’ said I; ‘you can think of so many ways to make people comfortable and happy.’
“‘I am truly glad you think so; I am always happy when you are pleased with me.’
“‘You will always be happy, then, for I am always pleased with you.’
“‘Do you think Harry and Viola will ever make matters up, and be as they were in the good old days?’
“‘Yes, certainly I do; Harry’s pride has undergone considerable shrinkage since Viola’s troubles commenced, and I think he will be glad to come down from his lofty hobby.’
“‘You must put your wits to work, Eddie, so as to help me bring them to an understanding. I am going to have dinner served in Viola’s room, and you must assist in keeping up the conversation, and not sit there looking as if you had a blister-plaster over your mouth, as you did a while ago, but try to invent something to talk about. Now come along, and I’ll put you to work,’ and she led me to the steward’s headquarters.
“‘Mr. Toddleburg,’ said Lottie, ‘I want you to help me get a good dinner to-day, to be served in Miss Bramlett’s room; will you do it?’
“‘How could anybody refuse to do anything when requested by Miss Wallingford?’
“‘Thank you, thank you, Mr. Toddleburg; you are very kind.’
“As Lottie passed on and entered the cook-room, the little man said to me:
“‘That is the prettiest young lady I ever saw, sir, and she is as good as she is pretty. I’ll do anything to please her.’
“‘Why don’t you come along, Eddie? I mean to put you to work; you shall not be idle here. Take those eggs and break them in that bowl, and beat them well, while I get some flour and sugar; I am going to teach you how to make a real nice pudding.’
“I broke the eggs as she directed, and began to beat them very awkwardly, while I watched her beautiful form moving about like a fairy, her sleeves rolled up, exposing to view the prettiest pair of round, plump, white arms that any man ever saw. By the time I had finished beating the eggs she was measuring the flour into a tray.
“‘There now,’ said I, ‘my job is finished, Lottie; I think I have earned a kiss, and I demand payment.’
“‘I’ll have to give it to you, I reckon; I suppose I must be kind to my old thief, as he has been away so long.’
“Then she approached me, with her hands covered with flour, and held up her pretty lips to receive my kiss.
“‘There, now, go and grind some spice; be in a hurry—I shall need it soon.’
“I obeyed orders and ground the spice.
“‘Now go and tell the steward to have a small table carried to Viola’s room, and a nice white cloth spread on it; get four plates, four napkins, four goblets, and everything necessary for four distinguished guests.’
“I went to the steward, and he assisted in arranging the dinner table as Lottie had directed. This was the first time I had helped her to prepare a dinner since the old days of our tramphood, and it naturally caused my mind to strayback to those happy hours, making me forget the great troubles by which we then were surrounded. As soon as I had finished executing Lottie’s orders, I re-appeared in the cook-house, where I found her very busy with the preparation of the dinner.
“‘How are they getting on, Eddie?’
“‘How is who getting on?’
“‘Why, Harry and Viola, of course.’
“‘Oh, they are getting on splendidly, I judge from the appearance of things; the hanks were terribly tousled, the balls all scattered about on the floor, and Viola’s cheeks showed a little crimson tinge; in fact, she blushed perceptibly as I entered the room. Would you not say that was a favorable omen?’
“‘The very best in the world.’
“‘That was a skillful maneuver, Lottie, to put them to winding yarn; nothing could have been better.’
“‘I thought so; because if we can get them to talking freely all will come right.’
“‘They were conversing when I went in, and Viola dropped the yarn on the floor.’
“‘Ah! if we can just control Harry we shall all be happy once more. If Viola would only tell what she knows about the death of her brother, Harry would be able to establish her innocence and take her out of prison. She, of course, can never be happy while this dreadful suspicion hangs over her.’
“‘What is it that you think she knows and refuses to tell?’
“‘Oh, don’t ask me to tell you what I know. I am somewhat of a detective myself, and I’ll have you know that I can see into a mill-stone as deeply as anybody. You shall hear from me at the proper time; the murderer of that poor little boy is not in this jail by a long way.’
“‘What on earth do you mean? Do you know who is the guilty party?’
“‘I would stake my life on it.’
“‘If you know who committed that cruel murder why do you allow this poor girl to remain in jail?’
“‘Ah! there’s the rub; we must be able to make the proof before we flush the covey.’
“‘Have you mentioned to Harry anything on this subject?’
“‘Not a word; he was so much excited I was afraid he would commit some foolish blunder and spoil everything.’
“‘Lottie, do you know I think you are the most sensible, prudent girl that ever lived? I wish Harry had half the prudence you have; he has plenty of good sense, but he is so impetuous, so proud and unyielding!’
“‘He never was that way until Viola came from New York to spend the winter with me. He loved her devotedly, and thought it would be dishonorable to marry her while she was so rich and he so poor. If we can get them reconciled, and induce him to propose to her, then we shall soon be able to extricate her from this unpleasant situation. Did you know I have been afraid that Viola contemplated suicide?’
“‘No; I had no idea of such a thing.’
“‘Well, I have been afraid of it ever since Harry was so ill; and if he had died, it is my opinion that she would not have survived him an hour.’
“‘What circumstance led you to believe that?’
“‘Oh, don’t be so inquisitive; I am not going to tell you all my secrets. Go on about your business now; I am done with you until dinner is served.’
“I reluctantly obeyed, and returned to Viola’s room, where I was overjoyed to find Harry and her engaged in earnest conversation, in an undertone. I was a little sorry, however, when I saw that I had unfortunately interrupted a conversation in which they both seemed to be deeply interested, and I gathered up a few stray flowers that were scattered about the bureau top, and immediately left the room—making it appear that I had merely come in after the flowers.
“‘They are all right,’ said I to Lottie, as I entered the cook-room; ‘I surprised them in the midst of an earnest conversation, and they were both very much flurried; but I hastened to pick up these flowers and leave the room.’
“‘Did you learn what they were talking about?’
“‘I heard Harry tell one truth, if he never tells another.’
“‘What was it?’
“‘He said, “Viola, I know I have acted the fool; and I pray you to forgive me!”’
“‘And what did she say in reply?’
“‘I entered the room just then, but I saw from her looks that she was going to forgive him.’
“‘How unfortunate it was that you happened in at such a moment.’
“‘Well, didn’t you order me to go? and don’t you know I obeyed with reluctance?’
“‘Oh, bother your obedience! you are mighty good to obey orders when you want to; but I suppose I must forgive you, and let you stay here, though you shall not be idle. Set that pan on the stove there, and fill it with water; then take the other one off and wipe it dry with a napkin and put it back; don’t spill water on the other things; I think I shall make an excellent cook of you one of these days.’
“‘You can make anything of me, because you are such a darling teacher.’
“‘I couldn’t make a flatterer of you: nature has taken the job off my hands.’
“‘I wish nature had furnished me with some strong language so I could tell my Lottie how dearly I love her.’
“‘Look at you now! you are dropping the water in that bowl!’
“‘Oh, I ask pardon—I didn’t see it.’
“We delayed dinner until late in the afternoon in order to afford Harry and Viola an opportunity to come to an understanding; and we had reason to believe that what we so much desired had taken place. Lottie and I brought the dinner in, and when it was ready she managed to seat Viola and Harry on the same side of the table, and she and I sat at the other.
“‘Now, Viola,’ said Lottie, ‘I have made you some of your favorite soup; I know you will like it, and I am sure it will do you good, and shall be glad if you will try it.’
“Viola smiled faintly; it was the first thing like a smile that had lighted up her pale face since her brother’s death.
“‘You are very kind, Lottie,’ she said, ‘and I know I shall like the soup; I have no appetite, however, but will try some of it to please you.’
“‘Here are three bottles of home-made wine—real grape juice—take some, Viola, you’ll find it excellent. It is the best appetizer in the world—the very thing you need,’ she continued.
“Viola took a small glass of the wine and drank it.
“‘What do you think of it?’
“‘It is very good, and I think it will help me to regain my appetite.’
“We spent a couple of hours pleasantly at dinner; I assisted Lottie in clearing the table, and then Harry and I took leave of the young ladies, promising to visit them early next morning.
“‘Well, Harry,’ said I, as soon as we were out of the jail, ‘how stand matters between you and Viola?’
“‘Oh, we are all right now, I hope.’
“‘Tell me all about it.’
“‘Ah! Eddie, I have been very foolish, and I mean to make all the reparation in my power. Poor Viola! I have caused her much grief, but I thought I was acting right in what I did! She has promised to marry me when the proof of her innocence can be established.’
“‘Did she tell you for what purpose she had purchased the phial of strychnine?’
“‘No, she positively refuses to do so; and I consider that very unfortunate, because that is the strongest point against her. I have by no means abandoned the hope of yet persuading her to reveal everything she knows about the matter. Her mind is now in a very unsettled condition; and whose mind would be otherwise, with so much to endure! The only wonder is that she has been able to bear it at all.’
“‘When is her case to be tried?’
“‘It is my opinion that she never will be tried; we waived the preliminary examination which, according to our laws, would have brought her into a magistrate’s court,—and consented to let her be remanded to jail until the grand jury investigates the case. I took this course to prevent publicity, and to save Viola the pain of being compelled to appear at the bar as a common criminal. Of course she will have to be tried in open court, unless we can untangle the mystery in time to convince the grand jury of her innocence, which I mean to make a desperate effort to do. Viola is in possession of secrets connected with this matter which she refuses to reveal, but I am inclined to hope that as soon as her mindbecomes more composed she will consent to tell me everything.’
“‘Did you know that Lottie is also in possession of some strange secret bearing on this case?’
“‘Indeed I did not; pray, what is it?’
“‘She refuses to tell me, but says she will do so at the proper time.’
“‘I declare, there is no accounting for a woman’s freaks! If this is not a proper time to tell what they know, I should like to be informed when it would be.’
“‘I think you are wrong there. Lottie, you know, is a sensible girl, possessed of great prudence, and you may rest assured she will aid us at the right moment. She says she knows who it is that committed the murder, and that it is a person who never has been suspected.’
“‘Why does she refuse to tell us who it is, then?’
“‘Because the proof is wanting to establish the fact. By the by, Harry, have you no suspicions on your mind as to who perpetrated the murder?’
“‘I have, but am unable to offer any good reason for it; therefore, I could not think of naming the person on whom my suspicions rest.’
“‘Then it appears to me that there is but very little difference between the position you occupy and the one held by Lottie.’
“‘I must say that I cannot see it in that light; for I understand you to say Lottie informed you that she knew who committed the murder, while I say I only have a mere suspicion as to the perpetrator.’
“‘Well, it amounts to the same thing, after all, because Lottie, I guess, does not really know, positively, who is the guilty party; but we must all get together, some day soon, and have a plain talk and a better understanding. We must tell each other exactly what we know and what we think; then put our shoulders to the wheel and see if we can’t make things move in the right direction.’
“‘I agree with you there, Eddie; because if we fail in this business I am a ruined man.’
“‘We are not going to fail; have no fears on that score.But tell me how it was that you and Viola happened to make things up.’
“‘Well, I don’t mind telling you everything; because you are in love yourself, you know.’
“‘I should think I did know it.’
“‘Very good, then, I’ll tell you all about it. I wouldn’t tell it to you if you were not head and ears in love; because people who don’t love don’t understand such things. They sneer at the idea of a true and holy affection—call it nonsense, and all that; but you know how it is yourself, don’t you?’
“‘Oh, go on! I think I do.’
“‘Well, in the first place, you know my views in regard to unprincipled fortune-hunters, and that I had registered a solemn vow that I never would place myself in a position where such an imputation could be laid upon me. As to that, my mind is unchanged, but circumstances have materially changed. My uncle, who went to California about the time we came to Memphis, has made a large fortune, and I have received several letters from him, and I reckon I had better show you the last one, which came only ten days ago: here it is: