THE LEAVENWORTH MURDER

by .ANNA ICA.IHEBINE GREEN?

Authorus of

«'A Stiiange Disappearance" and

"The Swoud of Damocles."

XXIII

THK STORY OV A CHARMING WOMAN. Fo, H, fo, turn, 1 smoU tho Wood ol an Englishman, —Old Sovo. I hold you as a tbinff onakicd and sainted. • -Mkasokn KOlt MEASUIiK. " You have never hoard, then, any account ot the circumstances which led to his mnr riago?" It was my partner who spoke. I had been asking him to exphin to me Mr Leaven worth's well-known antipathy to tho Eng lish race. " No." " If you had," returned he, rousing up in his bed —he was not yet entirely recovered from his illnesa—"you would not need to ask me for this explanation. JJut it is not strange you arc ignorant of tho matter. I doubt if there are half a dozen persona in existence who could toll you whero Horatio Leaven worth found tho lovely woman who afterwards became his wife, much lc»i give you any details of the circumstances which led to the marriage." "I am vory fortunate then, in being in tho confidence of one who can. What were those circumstances, Mr Veeloy?" "It will aid you but little to hoar; but since you desire it, you shall. Horatio Leaveuworth when a young man win very ambitious ; so much so, that at one time he aspired to marry a wealthy lady of Providence. But chancing to go to England, ho tiiere met a young woman whose grace and charm had such an ell'ect upon him, that lie relinquished all thought of the Providence lady, though it was Homo ' time before he could fuco tuo prospect of marrying the one who had so greatly inter ested him ; as she was not only iv the humblest circumstances, but was encum bered with a clilld concerning whose parent age the neighbours professed ignorance and slit! hid nothing to say. But as is very apt to l>e the case in an ntfair like thic, lovo and admiration soon got the better of worldly wisdom. Taking his futuro in hit hands, he olFered himself as her husband, when she immediately proved herself worthy of his regard, by entering at onco into those ex planations he was too much of a gentleman to demand,

The story blio told wai very pitiful. It seems that she was an American by birtb, her father having been a well-known mer (■hunt ot Chicago. While ho lived, her home was ono of luxury, but just as sho was emerging into womanhood, ho died. It was at his funeral she met tlio man destined to bo her ruin. How he camo there sho never knew, lie was not a friend of her father's. It is enough he wns there and saw her, and that in three wcoka—don't shudder, sho was such a child—they were married. In twenty-four hours sho knew what that word meant for her; it meant blows. Evorett, lam telling no fanciful story. In twenty-four hours after that girl was mar ricii, her husband coming druuk into tho house, found her in his way and knocked her down, Jt was but the beginuiug. Her father's estate, on being sottled up, proving to be I«bs than expected, he carried her off to England, where he did not wait to be <lrunk, iv order to maltreat her. She was . notfreefrom hi* cruelty night or day. Before she was sixteen she hud run the whole gamut of human suffering, aud that, not at the hamU of a coarse, common ruflian, but from au elegant, handsome, luxury-loving gentleman, whoso tnste in dress was so niw, he would sooner fling a garment of hers into tho fire, than see bci go into com pany clad in a manner lie did not consider Ijecomine. She bore it till her child was him, then sho fled. . Two days after the little one saw tho light, she rose np from her bed and taking her baby in her arms, ran out of the house. Tho fovr jewels she had put inlo her pocket, supported her till she could set up a little shop. After that, she lived as one born and bred as she had been, might bo supposed to do, in a situa tion so at war with her earlier training a«d natural instincts. As for her husband, sho neither saw him nor heard from him, fiom the day she lef c him, till about two weeks before Horatio Leaveawortb first met her, when she learned from the papers that ho was dead. She was therefore free, but , thimgh she loved Horatio Leavenworth with all her heart, sho could not marry him. She felt herself forever stained and soiled by that one year of abuse and contamination. Nor could he persuade her. Not till the death of her child, a month or so after his proposal, did she con sent to give him her hand and what re mained of her unhappy life. He brought her to New York, surrounded her with luxury and every tender caro, but the arrow had gone too deep; two years from the day her child breathed its last, she too died. It was tho blow of his life to Horatio Leavenworth; he was never tho same man again. Though Mary and Kleanore shortly after entered lum home, ho never recovered his old light-heartedncss. Money became his idol, and tbc ambition to make and leave a great fortune behind him modified all his views of life. But one proof remained that he naver forgot the wife of his youth, and that was, ho could not bear to have the word ' Englishman ' uttered in his hear ■ ing." Mr Vi'cley paused, and I rose to go. " Do you remember how Mm Leuvenworth looked?" lacked, "Could you describe her to me ?" He seemed a little astonished at my re -1 quest, but immediately said,—"Sho was a very pale woman; not strictly beau tiful, but of a contour and expression of great charm. Her hair was "brown, her eyes grey-" " Aud very wide apart ?" He nodded, looking still more astonished. "How came you to kuow 1 havo you seen 'her picture?" I did not answer that question. On my way duwn staiis, I bethought me of a letter whioh I had in my pocket for Mr Vedey's son Fred, and knowing of no surot way of getting it to him that night that by leaving it on the library table, I stepped to the door of that room, which in this house was at the rear of the parlour, and receiving no reply to my knock, opened it and looked in. The room was unlighted, but a cheerful lira was burning in the grate, and by its glow I espied a lady douching on the hearth, whom at fmt glance I took for Mrs Veejay. But upon advancing and address ing her by that name, 1 saw my mistake ; for the person before me nob-only refrained from replying, but rising at iho sound of my voice, revealed a fo'm *o noble in its height anct conspicuous in its grace, that nil pos silnlity of its bcinsr that of the dainty little We ot my pariner fled,

"I see that I have made ft mistake," paid I, " 1 beg your pardon;" and would have feEt tho room, but something in the general attitude of tho lady before me, retrained me, and believing it to be Mary Leavcn wortli, I inquired, " Can it be this is Miss Leavenworth ? Tho noble figure appeared to droop, the gently lifted head to fall, and for a moment I doubted if 1 Had been correct in my sup position. Then form and head slowly erected themselves, a soft voice spoke and 1 heard n low "Yes," and hurriedly advanc ing, confronted-not Mary with her glanc ing, feverish gaze and scarlet, trembling lips—but Elcanore, the woman whose fafntest look had moved me from the first, the woman whose husband I believed myself to be cveu thcu pursuing to his doom. Tho surprise was too great; I could neither sustain nor conceal it. Stumbling slowly back, I murmured something about' having believed it to be her cousin; and then, conscious only of tho one wish to ily a presence I dared not encounter in my present mood, turned, when her rich, head full voice rose once more and 1 heard; " You will not leiiTC me without a word, : Mr lUymond, now that chance has thrown ua toseiher?" Then an I came slowly for ward, " Were you bo very mucli astonished to find me here ? " "I do not know—l did not expect— was my incoherent reply. "1 bad heard that you were ill ; that you went nowhere: that you had no wish to aeo your friends.1' " I hare been ill," she said, " but I am bettor now, and have come to tpend the night with Mrs Veeley because I could not endure th* stare of tho four wulls of my room any longer." This was said without any effort at plaiutiToncss, but rather as If sue thoueht it necessary to excuse herself for being where nh» was. "I am (jlid that you have done so,' said I. " You ought to-be here all the while. That dreary, lonetomo boarding-house is no place for you, Miss Leavenworth. It distresses us to (eel that you arc cxiliug yourself at this time." " I do not wish anybody to be distressed, she returned. "It is boat for me to bo where I am. It is not exile, nor am I alone. A litrlc girl is there, a child, one whose innocent eycH see nothing but innocence in mine. She will keep me from too great a despair. Do not let my friends be anxious; I can lienr it." Then in a lower tone,— " There is but ono thing thai utterly dis turbs mo, and that is my ignorance of what it goitiK on at home. Sorrow I can bear, bin suspense is killing me. Will you not tell me, then, something of Mury und homo ? I cannot ask Mrs Veeley ; nhe is kind, but bos no real knowledge of Ma>y or me, nor docs she know anything of our es trangement. She thinks mo obstinate, and blames mo for leaving my cousin in her troublo. But you know that I could not dv otherwise. You know"— Her voice wavered off into a tremble and she did not conclude. " I cannot tell you much," I hastened to Tcply, "but whatever knowledge is at my oommaud, is certainly yours. Is thero any thing in particular you would like to ask?" " I would like to know how Mary is, whether ahc is well and—and oomposcd." "Your cousin is not ill," I returned, " but I fear that I can hardly say aho is composed. She is in great anguish, Misi Lcavenworth. Sho :•» not only overwhelmed at the loss which has befallen her, but over come with anxioty for you. You must not think of her as being otherwise than troubled." " You soo her often then 1" " I am assisting Mr Harwell in preparing your unclo's booK for the press and neces sarily am mere much of tho time," repliod I. "My unclo's book?" The words came in a tone «f low horror. " Ym, Miss Leavenworth. It has been thought beat to bring it before the world, and—" '• And Mary has set you at tho task ? " Yes." It seemed as if she could not escape from the horror which had overtaken her," How could she t 0 how could sho ?" " She considers hers»lf as doing what her uncle would approve, lie was very anxious, aa yon know, to have tbc book out^ by Jnly ; she is but fulfilling his wishes—" " Do not Bfwak of it.'' cried »be falling a step back, " 1 cannot bear it." Then as if she feared she had hurt my feelings by her abruptness, lowered her voice and said, 111 do not, however, know of anyono I should be better pleasod to have charged with tho task, than yourself. With you it will be a work of respect and revorenca ; but a stranger—Ol could not have endured a stranger touching it." She was fast falling to her old horror, but rousing herself, murmured, —"I wanted to ask you .something: ah, I know—" and Bhemovod'a little so a« to face me. "I wish to inquire if everything is as before in tho house; the eerTants the same and— and other things t"

" There is a Mrs Darrcll there ; I do not know of any other change." " Mary does not talk of going away?" "I think Hot."

"But she has visitors? Someone be- Hide* Mrs Darrcll to help her bear her lonelinws ?"

I felt a deathly chill strike me, " Ye»," I replied, "a. few." "Would you mind naming them ?" she asked in a low, distinct Yoke. "Certainly not, 1' I returned, lookiog away from her face. "Mrs Vecley of course, Mm Gilbert, Miss Martin and a—a

•'Go on," »he whispered. "A gentleman by the name o£ Claver iog." " You speak that name with evident em barrassment," she s»id after a moment of intense anxiety on my part. "May I in quire why?" Astounded, I raised my eyes to her lace. It was Tory pale and flashed like marble in the fire-light, a&d wore the old look of self repressed calm I remembered so well. I immediately dropped my gaze. "Why? because there are some circum stances surrounding him which have struck me as peculiar. 1 " How so ?' she asked.

*" He appears under two names. To-day it is Clavering; a short time ago it was—" " Go on."

" Robbins."

Her dress rustled on the hearth ; there was a sound of desolation in it, but her voice when sbe spoke was expressionless as that of an automaton.

"How many times has this person of whose name you uo not appear to bo cer tain, been to see Maryi?" " Ones." "When wos it!" "Last night." " Did he stay long ?" "About twenty minutes, I should say." "And do you think he will come again ?" "No." "Why?"

" He has left the country,"

A short silence followed this. I felt her eyes searching my face, but doubt whether I had known that she held a loaded pistol in her hand, I could have looked up at that moment.

"Mr Eaymond> she said at length in a changed tone, " the last time I saw you, you were going to make snme endeavour to re

store me to my former position before the world. I did not wish you to do fo then, nor do T wish you to do so now. Can you not make me comparatively happy, then, by assuring me that you have abandoned or will abandon a prnjeet so hopeless?" "It is impossible," said 1; "I cannot abandon it. Much as I grieve to be a source of sorrow to you, it is best you should know that I can never give up the hope of righting you, while I live." She put out one quick hand in a sort_ of hopeless deprecation, inexpressibly touching to behold in the fast waning firelight. But I was relentless. " I should never be able to lie quietly in my grave if through any.wcakuesi I should miss the blessed privilege of setting the wrong right, and saving a noble woman from unmerited disgrace. And then see ing that she was not likely to reply to this, drew a step nearer and said, " Is there not some little kindness I can show you, Miss Leavenworth, which you can mention before we part? some message you would like taken, or some action performed which only a friend could do?" Sho stopped to think. " No," she said ; "I have only one request to make, and that you refuse to grant." "For the most unselfish of reasons," I urged. She slowly shook her head. "You think so," murmured she ; then before I could reply,"! could desire one little iavourshown me, however." " What is that?" " That if anything should transpire ; if Hannah should be found, or—or my presence required in any way, you will not keep me in ignorance. That you will let vi» Know the worst when it comes, without fail." "I will." "And now good-night; Mrs Veeley is coming back, and you would scarcely wish to be found here by her." " No," said I. And yet I did not go, but stood watching the firelight flicker on her black drees till tbe thought of Covering and tho duty I had for the morrow, c «me like cold steel to my heart, and I turned away towards the dooi. But at the thres hold I paused again and looked back. 0 the flickering, dying fire liame. 0 the crowding, clustering shadows! 0 that droopiug figure in their midst, with its clasped hands and its bidden fucc ! I see it all again ; I sec it as in a dream ; then darkness falls, a»d in the glare of gas lighted streets, I am hastening along, soli tary and sad, to my lonely|home.

XXIV. A REPORT FOLLOWED BY SMOKE.

Oft expectation fails, and montoft thero Whoro most it promises; and oft it hite. Where Hope is coldest, and Dcupairinoßtsita. —all's Wki.l that ends Well. WHES I told Mr Gryce that I only waited for the determination of one fact, to feel jostiiied id throwing the caso unreservedly into his hands, 1 a hided to the proving or disproving of the supposition that Henry Clavering had been a guest at the sajne watering-place with Elcanore Leavenworth tho summer before.

When, therefore. I found myself the next morning with tJie Visitor book of the Hotel Union at 11 in my binds, it was only by the strongest effort of will that I could re strain my impatience. The suspense, how ever, was short. Almost immediately I en countered his name written not half a page below thow of Mr Lcavenworth and bis nieces, and whatever may have been my emotion at finding my snispicions thus con firmed, I recognised the fact that 1 was in the poise*siori of a clue which .would yet lead to the solving of tte fearful problem which had been imposed upon me. Hastening to the tclegraph-oHico I sent a message for the man promised me liy Mr Gryce, ami receiving for auswer that he could not be with me before three o'clock, started for the house of Mr Mouell, a client of ours, living in R . I found him at home, and during our interviewof two hours, suffered the ordeal of appearing at e«se and interested in what he had to say, while my heart was heavy witk its first disappoint ment and my brain r>n iire with the excite ment of the work theu on my hands.

I arrived at the depot jdit as the train came in. There was bat one psseenger for X , a brisk young man, whose whole appearance was so different from what I ex pected Q's to be that 1 at once made up my mind he could not be the man I was looking for, and was therefore turning away dis appointed, when he approached and handed me a card on which Was inscribed the single character "!." Even then I could not bring mytolf to believe that the slyest ana moat successful agent in Mr Gryce's employ was before me, till catching hi& : eye, I saw such a keen, enjoyable twinkle sparkle for a moment from its depths, that all doubt fled, and returning Ins bow with, a show of satis faction I remarked, " You arc very punctual; I like that" He gave another short, quick nod. "Glad, sir, to please you. Punctuality is too cheap a virtue not to be practised by a , man on the look-out for a rise. But what orders, sir ? Down train due in ten minutes ; no time to §par«." 1' Down train 2 What have we to do with that?" " I thought you might wish to take it, sir. Mr Urown -" winking expressively at the name, "always checks his carpet bag for home when he sees me aiming, But that is your affair, I am not par ticular." " I wish to do what is wisest." "Go home, then, as speedily as possible." Ami he gave a third sharp nod exceedingly business-like and determined. "If I lea»e you, it is with the under standing that you enme first to me with your information. That you are in my employ and iv that of no one ebo for the time being, and that mum is the word till I give you liberty to spaak." " Yes, sir. When I work for Brown & Co., I work for them ; and when I work for Smith & Co., I work for them." " Very well then," said I giving him a memorandum I had made before leaving Mr MoneU's, "here are your instruc tions." He looked it over with a certain degree of care, then stepped into the waiting-room and threw it into the stove, saying in a low tone, —"So much in case I should meet with some accident; have an apoplectic fit or anything of that sort." " Bat -" ' " 0 don't worry; I shan't forget. I've a memory, sir. No need of anybody using pen and paper with me." And laughing in a short, quick way one would expect from a person of his appearance and conversation, he added—"You will probably hear from me in a day or so," . and bowing, took his brisk, free way down the street just as the train came rushint- up to the depot where I was. My instructions to Q were as follows : 1. To find out on what day,and in whose company, the Misses Leavcnworth arrived at R— the year before. What their movements were while there, 'and with wbom they most consorted. Also the date of their departure and such, facts us could be gathered in regard to their habits, etc., 2. Ditto in respect to a Mr Henry Claver ing, felliw guest and probable friend of said ladies, 3. Name of individual fulfilling the fol fpllowing requirements: Clergyman,Metho

(list, deceased f-ince last December or thereabouts, wbo in July of seventy-fire was located in some town not over twenty miles from X . 4. Also name and present whereabouts of a man at that time iv service of the above. To .say that I passed the interval of time necessary to a proper inquiry into these matters in any reasonable frame of mind, would be to give myself credit f"r an equanimityof temper which I unfortunately do not possess. Never have days seemed so long as the two whichintetpoeed between my return irom R—*— and the receipt of the following letter: Sir: 1. Individual* mentioned arrived in 11— July 3, 1875. Party consisted of four ; themselves uncle, and the jrirl named Hannah. Uncle remained three days and then left for a short tour through Massa chusetts. Gone two weeks, during which ladies were seen more or less with the gentleman named between us, but not to an exteat sufficient to excite gossip or occasi 'ti remark, when said gentleman left X abruptly, two doys after uncle's leturn. ' Date July 19. Ab to habits of ladies, more or less social. They were always to be seen at picnics, rides, etc.. and in the ball room, M—liked best, E considered grave, and towards the last of her stay, moody. It is remembered now, that her manner was always peculiar, and that Bbc was more or less shunned by her cousin. A servant-girl in the hotel says,, however, s^e was the sweetest lady ever breathed. No particular reason for this opinion. Uncle, ladieK a"d servant left X for Now York August 7, 1875. 2. H.C. arrived at the hotel in E July 6, 1875, ia company with Mr and Mrs Vaudtrvort, friend* of the about. Lefi July 19, two weeks from day of arrival. Little to be learned in regard to him. Ite membered as the handsome gentleman wbo was in the party with the L, girls,aud that; is all,

3. F , a small town, some sixteen or seventeen miles from R. had for its Methodist minister in July of last year, a man who has since died, Samuel Stebbins by name. Date of decease, January 7, of this year. 4. Name of man ia employ of S. S. at that time, is Timothy Cook. He has been absent, but returned to F two days ago. Can be seen if required. '■ Ah ha !" I cried aloud at this point in my sudden surprise and satisfaction ; "now we have something to work with 1" And sitting down I penned the following reply. "T.C. wanted by all means. Also any evidence going to prove that H. C. and E. L. were married at the house of Mr S. on any day of July or August last." Next morning came the following tele gram. ' "T.C. on the road. FemenibcßS a mar riage. Will be with you by 2p. m." At three o'clock on the same day, I stood before Mr Gryce. "I am here tomako my report," said I. The flicker of a smile passed over his face, and he gazed for the first time at hit bound up finger-ends with a softening aspect that must have done them good. "I am ready," said he. "MrGryce," I began, "dojouremember the conclusions we came to at our first in tcrriew in this house ?" " I remember the one you came to." "Well, well," returned I a little peevishly, " the one I came to, then. It van this : tbat if we could find to whom Eleanore Leavenworth felt tbat she owed her best duty and love, we should discover who it was that murdered her uncle." "And do you imagine you have ascer tained this?' "I do." Hi» eyes stole a little nearer my face "Well!" exclaimed he, " that is g6od: go on." "When I the business of clearing Eleanore Leavenworth from suspi cion," resumed I, "it was with tbo pre monition tbat this person would prove to be a lover, but 1 had no idea tbat he would prove to be her husband." Mr Grace's gaze Hashed like lightning to the ceiling. "What?" said he with a frown. " The lover of Eleano-e Leavenworth is likewise her husband," I repeated. "Mr Clavering holds no lesser connection to her than that." " Hovr have you found that out ?" deman ded Mr Gryce in a harsh tone that argued disappoiutment or displeasure. " That is not necessary for ma to state. The question is not hovr I became acquain ted with a certain thing, but is what I as sert in regard to it, true. I believe that it is, and if you will cast your eye over this summary of events gleaned by me from the lives of these two individuals, I think you will Bgree with me." And I held up before his eyes the following: "During the two weeks commencing July 6, of the year 1865, and endiog July 19, of the same year, Henry R. Claverinis of London,taad Eleanore Leavenworth of New York were guests in tb* same hotel. Fa<J, proved by Visitor book of the Hotel Union a t R , Ntw York. ■ They were not only guests in the same hotel, but are known to have beld more or less communication with each other. Fact proved by such servants now employed in B (M were in the hotel at that time. July 19. Mr Clavering left R abruptly, a circumstance that would not be con sidered remarkable if Mr Leavenworth, whose violent antipathy to Englishmen aa husbaads is publicly known, bad not just returned ftom a journey. July 30. Mr Clavering was seen in the parlour of Mr Stebbins, the Methodist minister at F , a town about sixteen miles from R , where he was married to a lady of groat beauty. Proved by Timothy Cook, a man in the employ o f Mr Stebbins, ivlw was called in from the garden to witness the ceremony and sign a paper stipposcd- to be a certificate, July 31. Mr Clavering t-akes steamer for Liverpool. Proved by newspapers of that date. September. Eleanore Leavenworth in her uncle's house in New York, conducting herself as u-ual, but pale of face and pre occupied in manner. Proved by servants then in her service. Mr Clavering in Lon don ; watches the United States mails with eagerness, lmt receives no letters. Fits up rooms elegantly as for a lady. Proved by Secret Communication from Lon don. November. Miss Leavenworth still in uncle's house. No tmblication of her mar riage ever made. Mr Clavering in London; shows signs of uneasiness; the room pre pared for lady closed. Proved as above. Jauuary 17, 1876 Mr Clavering having returned to Ameiica, engages room at Hoffman House, New York. March l,or 2. Mr Leaveaworth receives a letter signed by Henry Clavering, in which he complains ot having been nl-used. by one of that gentleman's nieces. A manifest shade f *lls over the family at this time. March 4. Mr Clavering under a false name inquires at the door of Mr Leaven worth's house, for Miss Eleanore Leaven worth. Proved by Thomas. " March Fourth ?" exclaimed Mr Gryce at this point. " That was the night of the murder." " Yes ; the Mr Le Roy Robbins said to have called that evening, was none other than Mr Clavering."

March 19. Miss Mary Leavcnworth', in a conversation with me, acknowledges that '= there in a otcret in the family, aud is just upon the point of revcaliug its nature when Mr Clavcrii.g enters the house. Upoa his dcpnrturo the declares her unwillingness .'"'»' ever to niunti'm the subject a<<ain." Mr Gryce slowly waved the paper aside " And from these facts you draw the in! ferenco that Eleanore Leavcnworth is ths wife of Mr Clavering ?" ; - , "I do." " And that being his wife—" "It would be natural for her to make what endeavour she could, to conceal any. thing sho knew serving t>> crimmato him. ' "Always supposing Clavering himself had done anything criminal?" " 01 course." " Which latter supposition you now pro pone to justify!" " Which latter supposition we must now | endeavour to prore justifiable." A peculiar gleam shot over Mr Gryce's somewhat abwiracted facb. "Then you > hivve no new evidence against Mr Caver ing?" •' I hliouM think the fact just given, of his standing in the relation of an unac. knowledged husband to the auspeeted party, was fojneihing." "Wo positive evidence as to his being the assassin of Mr Leavenworth, Tmeanr I was obliged to tell him no, noue which he would call of a positive nature. VBut I can show the existence of motive, and I can likewise show that it was not only possible, but probable that he was in the house at the time of tho murder." " Ah, yon can!" cried Mr Gryce, rousing a little from his abstraction. t T* .■■ ; "The motive was the usual one of self, interest. Mr Leavenworth stood in ihe way of Eleanore's acknowledging him as a busband, aud he must therefore he put out of the way." '.' "Weak!" i : " Motives for murders are sometimes weak." " Ihe moiive for (h's was not. There is not only two much calculation observable j iv the whole tiling, but the manner ofjt was too cold, for tho arm to have been* : nerved by any tiling short of the most •{ deliberate intention, founded upon the dead Host necessity of passion or avarice," "Avarice?" "Oue should never deliberate upol the causes which lead to the destruction of a rich man, without taking into account that most common passion of the human race," "But—" "Let us hear what you have to say of Mr Clavering's presence in the home atthe,. ' time of the murder." "Well," s»id I, "if iho motive was weak, I fear tbat you will find this more . ', no." And I related what Thomas, tie ■ " butler, had told me in regard to Mr Claver i«g's call upon Miss Leavenworth that night, and the lack of proof which existed as to his having left the house when sop. '•"•i! posed to do so. "That is worth remembering," said:Mr ;; Gryce at the conclusion, " Valueless as direct evidence that he was implicated in the crime, it would be very important a&. circumstantial." Then in a graver tons than any whichhe had yet used in bia ; conrersauona with me, he went on to say,. "Mrßajmond, are you aware that in all this you have been strengthening the case: against. Eleanore Learcnworth instead of weakening it?" I ould only ejaculate in my sudden i; wonder and horror. * :/ •' You have shown her to be secret, fly, and unprincipled, capable of wronging those to whom .sho was most bound, her uncle and her husband." "You put it very strongly," said I, con scious of a shocking discrepancy between '■'■■'.: this description of Eleanore's character, an<t all that 1 lwd pieconceived iv regard ta it. "'. No more so than your own conclusions '.'-• from thie story wan-ant me in doing."" , Then as 1 sattilen', murmured low, ami as if to himself, " If th<t c*ee was dark agaioßt her before, it is doubly so with this supposi tion established of her being the woman secretly married to Mr Clavering." "And yet," cried I, unable to give up. ,;,[■ without a struggle the hops I had been chrrishing for so long, " you do Dot, carnot ■'.. believe the noble-looking iJleanweguilty of • this hoiiible crime?" "No," said he, slowly; " jrou might at" well kni>w right here What I think about that. I believe Eleanore Leavenworth to be an innocent woman." " You do ? Tbcn what," cried I. swaying: between joy at this admission and doubt ai to the meaning of his former expressions,: y "remains to bo done! Mr Grycc quietly responded: "Why, nothing but to prove that your supposition* .; iv not true." XXV. TIMOTHY COOK. Look hero upon this plcturo aad on this, —Hamlet, I staked at him in amazement. " I donbt if it will be so very diißcnlt," staid he. Then in a sudden burst, " Where is the man Cook f "He is below," returned I; "he and Q, I brought them with me." * ' V> >: '*I);- V! "Tliat was wise; let us see the boys^. have them up." Stepfiing to the door I called them, "I expected of course you wonld want. to question them," said I coming b»ck. In another moment the spruce Q and the shock-headed Cook entered the room. ■ .: "Ah," »aid Mr Gryce, looking toward* the latter if not directly at him; " this is 4he deceased Mr Stebbins's hired man,is it?' Well, you look as though you could tell the truth." " I usually calculate to do that thing, sir J at all events I was never called a liar that I can remember." " Of course not, of course not," returned' the detective, very affably for him. Then, without any further introduction, —"What was the first name of the lady you saxr married in your master's house last. ■'_ . summer ?" . " Bless me if I know! I don t think I heard, sir." ' ; " But you recollect how she looked ?" "As well as if she was my own niothwv. ,; No disrespect to the lady, sir, if yon know her," he made haste to add, glancing hur riedly at me. "What I mean is. thatche was so handsome, I could never forget the. look of her sweet face if I lived a hundreds , yenra." '. " Can you describe her ?'' ; ; " I don't know, sirs ; she was tall and grand-looking, had the brightest eyes and smiled in a way to make even a commott man like me wish I had. never sefia her." ' , • "Would you know her in a crowd." " I would know her anywhere." " Very well, now tell us all you can about ; that marriage." 5 , :• " Well, sirs, it was something like this. ' I hadbeenin Mr Stebbins's employ I thould say about a year, when one morning as I was hoeing in the gaiden that runs along by the road, I saw a gentleman s'ep down from the depot, look up and down the road for a minute, and then walk rapidly to our gate and come in. I noticed him parti cularly, because he was so fine-looking unlike anybody in F , and, imlecdi unlike anybody I had ever seen, for that matter; but I shouldn't have thought niucbr ..

AUCKLAND, SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 2, 1882.