OLD SPICER BEGINS AN INVESTIGATION.
"What do you think of the case, Spicer?" asked the chief, carelessly.
"I have formed no decided opinion as yet," was the reply, "have you?"
"Well," rejoined the chief, "I am beginning to map out a theory."
"I should like to hear it," said Spicer.
"I have no objection to giving you my ideas," returned Bollmann,
"you see of late, the old woman had become more grasping than ever.
She didn't care who came here so long as they left plenty of money
behind them, and there's no doubt of it, the greater part of those who
frequented the place were a pretty tough set."
"That's evident, I think."
"Yes, young men and young women have been frequently seen in this
basement, whose hilarity was so violent at times during the night that
the upper tenants were more or less disturbed. We infer, too, from what
we have seen of the series of rooms we have stumbled upon, that they
were not for the accommodation of the most law-abiding of our citizens."
"You think, then, this murder was committed by some of the dead woman's
patrons?"
"I think that may be the case."
"And you will shape your investigation accordingly?"
"Yes; and our first move will be to find out who was here last night."
"Have you made any progress in that direction?"
"One of the tenants of the house--Otto Webber--who will remove from
here in a day or two, came into the basement last night, about 8.30,
to tell Mrs. Ernst he was about to vacate his apartments. He had with
him Alexander Lane and Andrew Lane, brothers, who live on Congress
Avenue. Andrew is to rent the tenement to be vacated by Webber. The
latter introduced the widow to him. While they were talking, the sound
of female voices and those of a couple of men reached them, from one of
the little back rooms."
"Ah-ha! did Webber catch a glimpse of them?"
"No, he did not see any of the party; neither did his companions. But,
Spicer, my men are hunting for that quartet."
"So?"
"Yes, just so."
"What else have you to go by?"
"A woman in the brick block which the widow owned, just back of this
and fronting on York Street, looked from a rear window, last night, and
saw a light burning here until nearly eleven o'clock."
"The quartet probably kept it up pretty late."
"Then Mrs. John Newstrum, who lives directly over this room, just told
me that she heard persons down here as late as ten o'clock, and after."
"Did she hear anything like a quarrel?"
"Nobody in the house heard any quarreling or loud words during the
night."
"Is it thought the murderers got away with much wealth?"
"When we searched the house, a little while ago, and talked with Mr.
Zunder here, we concluded that they probably got away with between four
and five hundred dollars. She was known to have about that amount by
her, as she was intending to pay certain bills that were due."
"Not a very big haul, if that's all they got."
"I am confident they got no more than five hundred dollars at the
most," said Mr. Zunder, emphatically.
"I'll bet they had good reasons for believing that they were going to
get more," observed Detective Reilly, confidently.
"There's no doubt about that," said the chief, quickly; "they supposed
the old woman kept her pile right here in this basement."
"My theory," remarked Brewer, "is that the murderer or murderers were
very familiar with the premises, and that they came here with the
intention of robbing the old woman of a big stake. In order to carry
out their villainous work, they first bound and gagged her, and then
got her onto the sofa there."
"You don't think, then, Phil, that they intended to murder her?" said
Old Spicer, inquiringly.
"I do not," was the reply. "You see, after they got that gag in her
mouth, they probably began to go through the several rooms, and
left her tied where she is now lying. The fact that she was such a
sufferer from asthma may not have been known to the criminals. With a
handkerchief stuck in her mouth, and her asthmatic difficulty, you can
readily see that an old woman like her could not live long."
"I believe you're right, Phil," said one of the other detectives. "I
don't believe they intended to kill her."
"Have you questioned everybody in the house?" asked Old Spicer of the
chief.
"Yes," was the answer, "we have had something to say to every one who
lives here."
"You learned nothing more, I suppose?"
"Nothing more of any consequence."
"Have you heard what this young man has to say, chief?" asked Officer
Cannon, indicating a person of about twenty-five who was standing by
his side.
"No," answered the chief; "what is it?"
"Speak up for yourself, young man," said the officer, encouragingly.
The young man, thus admonished, advanced and said:
"I was returning from a whist party with a friend about one o'clock
this morning. Just before we reached Spruce Street, on Oak, we heard
the loud talk of three men in a buggy. They acted as if they might be
partially intoxicated. The team was going as rapidly as it could. Just
before they came up to where we were they spied us, and we heard one of
them say, 'hush!' Not a word more came from their lips until long after
they had passed us, then we could hear them talking again."
"Hum! Did they come from this way?" asked the chief.
"Yes, sir; they were not far from this house when we first saw them."
"Which way did they go after they had passed you?"
"Toward Howe Street."
"Did you notice anything in the buggy?"
"Yes, sir; we both noticed it."
"What was it?"
"An ordinary packing box."
"In front?"
"No, sir; fastened in the rear, behind the seat."
"You are sure they didn't drive out Oak Street?"
"I am not quite sure; but I think they turned into Howe."
"I have heard something of this story before," said the chief, aside to
Old Spicer.
"It may be worth while looking those fellows up," returned the old
detective.
"I think so."
"What was it you had heard before?"
"Why, one of the women in the house here peered from her front window
down on the sidewalk, somewhere about midnight, she thinks, and saw
three suspicious-looking characters talking in subdued tones, near the
steps leading to the saloon below."
"Ah, I see; and joining our young friend's story of the three men
dashing toward Howe Street at one o'clock, or through Oak Street, as
_you_ think, with the woman's story of the whispering trio on the
sidewalk, you think there may be a clew that will lead to important
revelations?"
"It seems so to me---- Well, what is it, Woodford?"
"I've just found this handkerchief, sir," and Officer Woodford handed a
very fine embroidered handkerchief to the chief.
"Where did you find it?" asked Bollmann, curiously, as he carefully
examined the delicate piece of cambric.
"By the side of a chair in the next room. I fancy it may have belonged
to some one who was with the murderer or murderers."
"'S. S.'" mused the chief, as he caught sight of those initials in one
corner of the handkerchief; "I'd give something handsome to know what
those two letters stand for."
Old Spicer took the handkerchief from him, and after a moment's
inspection, said:
"Yes, this may prove a valuable clew. It may be well to cultivate the
acquaintance of S. S."
Chief Bollmann seized the cambric clew and hurried away.
The old detective turned to Maier Zunder and abruptly said:
"You have had charge of the dead woman's financial affairs for a long
time, I believe, sir?"
"Yes," was the reply, "for a good many years. In fact, I have looked
after her money matters and kept charge of her bank books of deposit
ever since she came to this city."
"You think she did not have a very large sum by her last night?"
"I am pretty sure she did not."
"Not more than four or five hundred dollars, I think you said?"
"Last Sunday she had one hundred and fifty dollars by her. She wanted
to paint her several houses, and I let her have four hundred more."
"Had she paid the painters, do you think?"
"I don't know. If she had, she must still have had some two or three
hundred dollars left."
"Has any money been found here by the police?"
"Not a great deal, I believe."
"Only one dollar and seventy-five cents has been found, either on her
person or about the premises," said George Morgan.
"How much had she in the banks, Mr. Zunder?"
"Her bank books show credits to the amount of $1500, and I have them
safe in my care."
"Have you any idea who the criminals may be?"
"I think I could make a pretty close guess, Mr. Spicer."
"I should like to know which way your suspicions point."
"Well, sir, it is my decided opinion that Margaret Ernst was murdered
by parties in this house."
"Oh-ho! that's it, eh? Well, I think I see your line of argument, sir,
and I must say you reason shrewdly."
"I am confident that when the truth is known you will find I am right."
"I shouldn't at all wonder."
"At least," added the financial manager, "you will find that some one
in this house is seriously implicated, mark that, Mr. Spicer."
"I will remember what you say." Then in another tone:
"Let's see, how old was she?"
"Her age has been stated as seventy-two. I think she was nearer
seventy-four or seventy-five."
"She was from Germany?"
"Yes, from Oxburg, in Bavaria."
"She had made a will?"
"Yes."
"To whom did she leave her property?"
"One half to her own relatives in the old country, and the rest to the
relatives of her last husband."
"He died about ten years ago?"
"Who, John Ernst?"
"Yes."
"Nearer twelve, I should say."
"He had been in this country some time?"
"Yes; he served in the Union army through the late war."
"What was her maiden name?"
"Margaret Tepley."
"You heard what Bollmann's detectives said. Do you think as they do,
that there was no intention to kill her?"
"Nonsense! She was deliberately murdered. The back of her head was
pounded against the arm of that sofa, and afterward she was smothered
with a pillow. No intention to kill her? Pshaw! the poor old lame woman
attempted to make a fight of it. Why, sir, she called out as loud as
she could. Her voice was heard distinctly by people in the house."
"So? You are quite sure of what you say?"
"Believe me. I know what I am talking about, Mr. Spicer."
"I must see some of the people of the house."
"Do so. Go into the matter thoroughly."
"I generally do, Mr. Zunder."
"I know that; hence, I have faith in you. And a word in your ear, Mr.
Spicer. Your work shall be well paid for. _I_ will see to that. As you
can easily understand, I feel more than an ordinary interest in this
case."
"I understand. And you can depend on me, and those associated with me,
to do our level best to get at the exact truth in this cold-blooded and
cowardly affair." And a moment later, after whispering to Stricket and
George Morgan, Old Spicer left the basement.