MARY DANA
Quincy and Tom spent one more year at Andover. When they parted from the
old school it was with feelings of deep regret.
“I could be happy here for ten years more,” said Quincy.
“So could I,” replied Tom. “But, after all, this is only a narrow path
in the world of knowledge. Harvard is but a street and when we get out
into the world I suppose we shall find a boulevard.”
“I'm going to look down upon the world before I investigate its
thoroughfares,” remarked Quincy.
“What do you mean?”
“I shall visit Fernborough for only a short time this summer, a few days
in which to see the folks, and then I shall go to the White Mountains.
I'm going to stand on the top of Mount Washington, and look down on the
busy hives of men.”
Tom knew Quincy had received a letter from Mary, saying that she and her
aunt intended spending the summer at Fabyans, and he felt that Quincy,
being near Mary, would probably be on a higher pinnacle than any
mountain could supply, and the “eternal hills” would become objects of
secondary importance. But, Tom wisely refrained from mentioning these
thoughts, for lovers do not seek confidants unless help is needed.
Quincy found Fernborough but little changed, During the fourteen years
that he had been a resident of, or a visitor to, the town there had been
but little to disturb its serenity. Goldsmith's “Deserted Village” could
not have had a better record for unbroken placidity. The wrestling match
between young Quincy and Bob Wood had been an incentive to some animated
conversations at meal times and at the grocery, but the “locals” in the
_Fernborough Gazette_ had never risen above the usual level of,
Hal Prentiss has bought a Jersey cow,
Strout and Maxwell have a new wagon,
William Jones has painted his fence green,
Sol. Peters cut twenty tons of hay from his lot on the Center Road,
Mrs. Jerusha May is visiting her daughter Hannah at Westvale,
And more of the same kind, interesting to a rural community but
considered inconsequential by those conversant with more exciting
intelligence.
But Fernborough was destined to have its share of important events,
which incidentally interfered with the well laid plans of both Quincy
and Mary for the vacation in the mountains.
For the first time in the town's history newsboys went through its
streets, calling out “All about the Murder at Cottonton,” and offering
for sale copies of the _Cottonton Journal_. The boys held up the papers
so the headlines in large type could be seen. The word “Fernborough”
caught the eyes of those attracted by the word “Murder” and the copies
were soon disposed of, obliging many intending purchasers to share the
news with those who had been fortunate enough to obtain copies.
Quincy was in Mason Square when the newsboys arrived and he purchased
a paper. He glanced at the headlines and saw a name that caused him to
utter an exclamation of astonishment. He did not stop to discuss the
matter with any of the large crowd that had been collected, but whipping
up his horse soon reached Mary's home. Leaving the animal standing in
the yard he burst into the sitting room crying loudly, “Mary! Mary!”
“Why, what is the matter, Quincy--are you hurt?”
“No, but something has happened in Cottonton and they sent newsboys over
here with the papers.”
“Somebody living in Fernborough must be mixed up in the affair,” said
Mr. Dana, who was sitting in his rocking chair near the window.
“I should say there was, decidedly so. Sit down, and I'll read what it
says.”
“THE MURDER AT COTTONTON
“A YOUNG MAN NAMED ROBERT WOOD, A NATIVE OF FERNBOROUGH, ARRESTED AS THE
CRIMINAL AND LOCKED UP WITHOUT BAIL. ANOTHER CANDIDATE FOR THE ELECTRIC
CHAIR!”
“Bob Wood, he was the one who insulted you, wasn't he?”
“Yes, father, but that was a long time ago,” said Mary. “Do let Quincy
read the rest of it.”
“A brutal murder was committed last night at the Ellicott Mills,”
Quincy continued. “The unfortunate victim was Mr. Samuel Ellicott, the
treasurer and principal owner. He was found sitting at his desk with
his head crushed in. The blood-stained implement of destruction has
been discovered. Robert Wood, Jr., a native of the adjoining town of
Fernborough, has been arrested and held without bail. Young Wood
has been an employee at the mill, but had aspired to the hand of Mr.
Ellicott's only daughter Mabel. Mr. Ellicott was firmly opposed to the
match, and, with the view, probably, of forcing the young man to leave
the city, had discharged him from his employ. Mr. Ellicott was busily
engaged in making preparations for pay day, which occurs to-day, and was
alone in his office at the time. There seems to be no doubt of the guilt
of the accused. His cane was found in Mr. Ellicott's office and must
have been used to inflict the murderous blows which have deprived
Cottonton of one of its most enterprising and respected citizens.”
“What do you think of that, Mary?” asked Quincy.
“I don't know yet. What do you think, father?”
“The case has no mystery--no charm for the detective's mind. I was
thinking that naughty boys who plague little girls often become wicked
men. Now, what do you think?”
Mary did not answer at once. When she did speak it was the result of
deliberation. In a small way she had often tried to help her father out
in solving some of the mysteries that had come up in his line of work,
and now the detective instinct in her was strongly aroused as Quincy
knew it would be.
“Quincy and I both know the young man,--not pleasurably, I'll admit,”
she said, finally. “Everybody thinks him guilty, but we have no right
to join the multitude without cause. He may be innocent. It would be a
double victory to repay an enemy with kindness, and, perhaps, save an
innocent man's life.”
“Just what I thought you would say,” cried Quincy. “I feel too that
there is a chance that Wood is not the one. But what can we do?” he
continued.
“First, you must go and see Bob Wood's father, Quincy, and tell him that
I am going to investigate the affair, with my father's help. But tell
him he must be quiet about it. If we are to accomplish anything, it must
be done without any one knowing we are interested in the matter. Father
and I will look over all the papers that have reports of the trial,
and, perhaps you had better attend the trial yourself, and make careful
notes, for the papers do not always get things just straight. Then, I
want to see Miss Mabel myself, and see what she says.”
“But, why do you wish to do all this, Mary?” said Mr. Dana. “It strikes
me as being a simple case of a very brutal murder, and one in which
there is no doubt that the authorities have got the right man.”
“I don't believe him guilty, that's all.”
“That's an opinion,--not a reason.”
“I know it, but woman's intuition often comes nearer to the truth than
man's judgment.”
She threw her arms about her father's neck, and her eyes looked down
into his, “You'll help all you can, won't you, father?” she pleaded.
“Well, I have nothing else to do, and this affair awakens my interest.
But from what I know of the case now, I think they have the right man.”
“You're a dear, good father to help,” and she gave him another embrace
and a kiss.
The next day there was a preliminary meeting which Quincy attended at
Mary's request. It was with difficulty that Mary waited until he made
his report.
“The principal witness was Gustave Pinchot, the night watchman. He heard
loud voices but as Mr. Ellicott was quite deaf he did not attach much
importance to that. Pinchot didn't see anyone come in or go out.”
“Couldn't Bob Wood prove an alibi?”
“Hardly, for he testified that he went to the office that evening, and
Miss Ellicott said that he told her he was going.”
“No alibi--and no evidence yet,” said Mr. Dana.
“It's coming,” said Quincy. “Mrs. Larrabee with whom Wood boarded
testified that he had a heavy oaken staff and that he took it with him
when he went out that evening because he had sprained his ankle.”
“Did Mr. Wood acknowledge that the staff was his?”
“He did finally. He injured his case by saying, at first, that he didn't
take it with him, but Mrs. Larrabee's testimony knocked that.”
“Is that all the testimony against him?” inquired Mary.
“Oh, no,” continued Quincy. “Wood made a damaging statement that will
make it go hard with him. When he asked Ellicott for his daughter's
hand, the old man got mad and threatened to kick him out. Then the
judge asked Wood what he said when Ellicott threatened him and the young
fellow incriminated himself by saying that he told Ellicott if he did
that he would not live to do it again.”
“Did it appear that he had been kicked out?” inquired Mary.
“No; and Wood denied it as well.”
“And you saw his father, Quincy? What did he have to say?”
“He's all broken up, but says that his son is innocent.”
“Of course, that's to be expected,” said Mary, and then continued,
“I saw Mabel Ellicott yesterday. She's in love with him, sure, and of
course does not think him guilty. She told me, though, that Bob Wood had
said to her that if she were an orphan there would be no objection to
their marriage.”
“That would probably go against him, if the prosecution calls her at the
trial, and she testifies to that. But, what do you really think about
it, Mr. Dana?” asked Quincy.
“I have my suspicions, but I am not going to mention them yet. You two
young people are taking hold of the matter in good shape, and I want to
see what you can do about it; but, although, I do not say that Wood
is not guilty, I do say that I doubt if the government has sufficient
evidence to convict him.”
* * * * * * *
Mary became so interested in the case that she decided not to go to the
White Mountains for the summer, and Quincy also remained in Fernborough,
helping Mary as much as he could. Often they would go off on long tramps
in the surrounding country, and once Quincy went to Boston and was
gone several days. That they procured some evidence was clear from the
satisfied remarks made by Mr. Dana, who approved of the lines on which
they were working.
Although they had made some headway they were not ready to present
their theories when the time came for Bob Wood's trial. Many thought
him innocent, but the jury were of a different opinion, and brought in a
verdict of murder in the first degree.
The day after the close of the trial, the district attorney of Normouth
County was sitting in his office opposite the Court House. He was
preparing his address opposing the granting of a new trial, which he
knew would be proposed the next day by the counsel for the defence.
He had gone over the evidence time and time again. He was a
conscientious man. He felt that the law of the State had been
defied--had been outraged--and yet within his heart was that natural
feeling of sympathy and pity for the unfortunate being for whom but a
few short weeks of life remained, and he could not help regretting the
part he had been obliged to take in convicting the young man.
At that moment, a clerk entered and said that a young lady wished to see
him. In obedience to the direction given, the clerk withdrew; the door
was opened again, and a blue eyed, fair-haired girl entered. Standing
near the district attorney's desk, she said:
“Mr. Harlow, as there is no one here to introduce me, I will introduce
myself. My name is Mary Dana. My father is, or rather was, a detective
for seventeen years in Boston, but our present abiding place is the town
of Fernborough. In the city he often used to tell me of the cases on
which he was working, and I would try to solve them with him. Robert
Wood lived in Fernborough, and from the day of his arrest I have been
much interested in the case, and with the help of my father and a friend
of mine, Quincy Adams Sawyer, the son of the former governor, I have
been trying to find the man who murdered Mr. Ellicott,--for I have never
believed that Robert Wood was the guilty person.” She smiled, and added,
“Detectives, I believe, are more often interested in strengthening
evidence, and bringing about imprisonment and executions than they are
in trying to prove people innocent.”
“But, my dear young lady,” said the district attorney, “the young man
whom you speak of has already been proved guilty by a fair-minded jury.
There seems to be no question of his being innocent, and, after the jury
have returned their verdict it is rather late to still try to prove him
not guilty.”
“What I have to tell you I think is important. Can't you spare me a
little time?”
“I have a luncheon engagement in half an hour, and can give you twenty
minutes, but it will do no good, I am sure. Won't you sit down?” and Mr.
Harlow placed a chair for her near his desk.
“Thank you,” said Mary, as she seated herself, “I will be as brief as
possible. I have read of many murder cases, but I believe I never knew
of one in which there was more conclusive evidence against the person
accused than in this instance. When I first took up the case, my father
did not think there was a possible loophole of escape for him; but the
truth does not always appear on the surface. Then, jurors get wrong
impressions. Witnesses are often prejudiced. Sometimes the judge is
not impartial. Then there are coincidences which are fatal so far as
appearances go, but which can be satisfactorily explained.”
The district attorney nodded, somewhat impatiently, and fingered his
watch-chain.
“The day after the murder I called on Mabel Ellicott, primarily to ask
her some questions about Robert Wood, but I also had a chance to see
the body of her father, and to examine the wound upon the murdered man's
head. I decided that Mr. Ellicott had been struck with something else
beside the oaken staff which, covered with blood, was found near his
chair. In fact, I found in the wound certain foreign substances which
could not have formed part of an oaken staff.
“That was a clue, but I told it only to my father and Mr. Sawyer. It led
us to look for something else. I must confess that a week passed without
our discovering anything to bolster up my opinion. Finally, it occurred
to me that perhaps the foreign substances I had found in the wound
might have been on that part of the cane that comes in contact with the
ground. But we will drop that for the present.
“Back of the mill is a piece of sunken ground. During the night, after
Mr. Ellicott was murdered, there was a heavy fall of rain, and this
piece of sunken ground was covered with water to the depth of several
inches, in some places, at least six. I do not mean that the rainfall
was so great, but the water ran down from higher elevations until it
made, what appeared to be, quite an extensive pond.
“Mr. Sawyer and I made several circuits of this temporary pond; why, I
could not exactly tell you. A detective, I have been told, can seldom
tell why he examines certain objects so closely, but something seemed to
draw me towards that improvised lake.
“While looking at the water, I saw something which projected several
inches above its surface, and I had a curiosity to know what it was.
Mr. Sawyer put on a pair of rubber boots, and waded out to it, lifted
it from the water, and found it to be a large, irregular shaped stone
weighing at least ten pounds, which he brought back to me. He then went
back and splashed round in the pond with the hope of finding something
else of interest, but could discover nothing.
“I wondered how that stone came to be in the middle of that pond, and
we devoted several days after that to an examination of the surrounding
country. Back from the mill, some four or five hundred feet away, was a
ledge of rock. We, that is Mr. Sawyer and I, for I forgot to tell you my
father is now a cripple and could only help us with his advice at home,
examined its surface very carefully, using a magnifying glass and, to my
great satisfaction, I finally located a place into which the stone found
in the pond fitted nicely. Evidently, then, the stone had been detached
for some purpose, and that purpose having been accomplished, the stone
had been thrown into the pond.”
The district attorney looked at his watch again and betrayed signs of
uneasiness.
“Pardon me, Mr. Harlow, but would you not rather lose a dinner than send
an innocent man to his death?”
“You still have ten minutes,” was the district attorney's reply, “But,
I cannot see the connection between what you are relating and your idea
that Robert Wood is not guilty.”
Mary continued her narration.
“I asked Mr. Sawyer to examine the tools and implements in the mill
workshop and he found a pickaxe, one point of which had been subjected
to rather rough treatment. I naturally connected that pickaxe with the
ledge of rock that had been found in the pond.
“An examination of the night watchman's quarters followed. Mr. Sawyer
could discover nothing until he came to a small cupboard which was
locked. Locks, however, do not keep detectives, or criminals either,
from making further investigations. In the cupboard, he found a coil of
rope. There was a certain peculiarity about that rope of which I will
speak later.
“After that Mr. Sawyer loafed around the mill quite a good deal in the
evenings and became acquainted with Mr. Pinchot the night watchman. He
is a French Canadian. He told Mr. Sawyer that his parents lived in a
small town near Montreal, that they were both quite old and he was
their only living son, although he had five sisters, all working in the
States.
“He had saved some money, and as his parents had a farm, and needed
his assistance, he had resigned his position and the day following the
murder was to have been the last one at the mill. He had withdrawn his
resignation when told that the law would require him as a witness, and
has continued in service.
“Mr. Sawyer then made a trip to Boston and found that Mr. Pinchot had
not intended to go to Canada but had been making inquiries as to when a
steamer would sail for France. He had been told he would have to go to
New York. Am I taking up too much of your time, Mr. Harlow?”
“It makes no difference now. I am too late for the dinner. Pray
proceed.”
“While in the city Mr. Sawyer called upon the architects who drew the
plans for the Ellicott Mills. I mean the original plan, for many changes
have been made in the interior. He procured a copy of this, and we found
that when the mill was first constructed, the part used by the treasurer
at the time of the murder had been the receiving room for raw materials.
I next made an excuse for us to visit the mills one Sunday and we
investigated the second story of the mill. The floor was covered with
grease and dirt and was black with age. I got upon my hands and knees
and, with my magnifying glass, examined every foot of the floor.
“For a long time, my search was not rewarded, but, finally, I found a
white place in the wood. A splinter had been detached. With a knife, I
scraped the dirt from the floor. My search was rewarded. I had found
a trap door! Its former use was apparent. On the wall, above the trap
door, was a stout hook. Upon this hook the tackle had been put and goods
lifted from the receiving room to the story above.”
“Well what does all this lead up to?” asked the district attorney.
“I will show you very soon, now, Mr. Harlow. If you remember, the safe
at the mill was found open the morning after the murder but had been
closed and locked by the superintendent. This was a very foolish thing
to do, as the combination had been known only to the treasurer, and
it was several days before it was opened by an expert sent by the
manufacturers. It was then found that the money drawn by Mr. Ellicott
for the payroll, some three thousand dollars, had disappeared.”
“Yes, I remember,” said the district attorney, “the thief was never
found, and with the more important matter of the murder on our hands
little attention was paid to the loss of the money. It was clear from
the start that Robert Wood had nothing to do with it, because revenge,
not robbery was his motive. But, what does all this mean that you are
telling me?”
“I forgot to state, or, rather postponed saying it, that the coil of
rope that was found in the cupboard had a noose in one end of it, and
that in Mr. Ellicott's wound I found small particles of stone. I summed
up the case thus: Pinchot plotted to steal the money drawn for payday
and to kill Mr. Ellicott if it became necessary. He lifted the trap
door, having thrown the noose in the rope over the hook in the wall. Mr.
Ellicott was quite deaf and did not notice the opening of the trap door
or the man's descent by means of the rope. He used the stone because he
could throw it away and no weapon could be found. The murderer saw the
oaken staff. He knew that Mr. Ellicott had a visitor that evening so
he used the staff to complete his deadly work and left it behind as a
witness against an innocent man. He took the money from the safe, drew
himself up by the rope, closed the trap door, locked up the rope and
threw the stone into the pond. In France he would be safe to spend the
proceeds of his crime. A nice bit of circumstantial evidence, is it
not?”
“Then you believe in circumstantial evidence, Miss Dana?”
“In certain cases. But I think it would render the community just as
safe, and be more just to the accused if, in cases of circumstantial
evidence where there is the least doubt, the sentence should be
imprisonment for life with a provision in the law that there should
be no pardon unless the innocence of the life convict was conclusively
proven. When a murderer is taken red-handed, I would not abate one jot
or tittle of the old Mosaic law--an eye for an eye, a tooth for a
tooth, a life for a life. But you know that many murderers of whose
premeditated guilt there could be no doubt have been much more leniently
dealt with by our judges and juries than those caught in the coils of
circumstantial evidence.”
“Where is the watchman now?” asked the district attorney.
“Here in Cottonton, but he is intending to leave to-night for New York,
I found out this morning. Of course, he was not able to leave before
this as he had to stay in the vicinity, being a witness at the trial,
but his leaving so soon now simply seemed to confirm my suspicions, and
I thought it time to bring the matter to your attention.”
“Miss Dana,” said the district attorney, rising, and holding out his
hand to her. “I have done the best I could to convict Robert Wood of the
murder of Samuel Ellicott, because I really believed him guilty, and my
oath of office bound me to do my duty; but, if he is innocent, I believe
it as much my duty to right the wrong done him. You have built up a
careful case, and I myself shall ask for a stay of sentence until after
this new evidence can be presented to the Grand Jury. I believe you have
saved an innocent man, and I feel your future as a great detective is
assured.”
It was unnecessary for Mr. Harlow to apply for stay of sentence in the
case of The Commonwealth of Massachusetts _vs._ Robert Wood. Within an
hour after Mary Dana had left the district attorney's office, Gustave
Pinchot was under arrest, and, sitting in the same chair which Mary had
occupied, was confessing his crime.
The day that Robert Wood was discharged, with no stain upon his name,
Quincy and Mary took her father to Cottonton. At the prison they met
Robert's father who had come to take his son home. He was profuse in his
thanks to Mr. Dana, for to him he considered his son's escape from death
was due.
“You are wrong, Mr. Wood,” said Mr. Dana. “Your son owes his life not
so much to me as to my daughter here, and to Mr. Sawyer. She practically
worked up the case herself; I made but few suggestions, and it was at
her request that Mr. Sawyer made certain investigations that fitted in
with her own ideas and made success possible.”
“Miss Dana,” said young Robert, “a year ago I insulted you, and was
properly treated for my words and actions by Mr. Sawyer. I owe you both
an apology which I now make and ask your forgiveness. But for you, and
Mr. Sawyer, I should have died a felon. You have, indeed, heaped coals
of fire on my head.”
Mary answered, “That was forgiven long ago, but if you wish my
forgiveness you have it freely. How does Miss Ellicott feel now that you
are declared innocent?”
“She came to see me this morning and we are to be married as soon as
possible, and I am to become the treasurer of the mill. She will own
three-quarters of the stock.”
When Mr. Strout learned that Robert's release was due to the exertions
of Mary and Quincy he sniffed and exclaimed:
“Folks in love will do all sorts of things. She's gone on that young
Sawyer, and she only started in on the thing so she could have a chance
to traipse around the country with him. He'll come back here for her
some day, and her market'll be made. All I hope is that he'll take her
to Boston, or some other foreign place to live an' we shall see and hear
the last of 'em.”