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Wheeling Sunday register. [volume] (Wheeling, W. Va.) 1882-1934, October 03, 1897, Image 12

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Persistent link: https://chroniclingamerica.loc.gov/lccn/sn86092523/1897-10-03/ed-1/seq-12/

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Author of “The j^Vystery of a Hansom Cab,” “Madame Midas,” “The
Queer Sjtory of Adam Lind,” “The Lone Inn,” “The
Masquerade Mystery,” “A Marriage Mystery,”
,‘The Carbuncle Clue,” &c., &c.
Great was the astonishment through
out the neighborhood when it became
known that Dr. Etwald, the clever phy
sician, of Deanminster, had been ar
rested on a double charge of murder
and theft of a dead body. Those who
did not like him—and they were the
majority—rejoiced openly that the as
sassin of Maurice Aylmer had been
found in Etwald’s person; but there
wras some who regretted that so bril
liant a man should be consigned to a
felon’s cell, and—possibly in the here
after—to a felon’s doom. But what
ever opinions, for or against the pris
oner, were held by the good people of
Deanminster and the surrounding
neighborhood, there was no doubt of
one thing: the trial of Max Etwald at
the Assizes would be the great sensa
tion of the year.
Major Jen worked hard to procure
evidence against the prisoner, and Da
vid Sarby worked just as hard to ob
tain material for the defense. The at
titude taken up by the young barrister
astonished everyone, and was univer
sally condemned. That he—who
might almost be called the brother .,of
the dead man—should defend the assas
sin of such brother, was almost incred
ible of belief. People were astonished
and angered by the very idea, and when
that idea beoame known to be an ac
tual fact the conduct of David was dis
approved on every side. Only one
man said nothing, and that man was the
very person who had the best right to
speak. While all talked Maj. Jen re
mained silent. Hi s reticence on the
subject caused almost as much scandal
as David’s inexplicable conduct.
Yet Jen knew what he was about,
and he was acting merely in accordance
with an agreement which he had made
with Sarby. After that memorable in
terview in the library, when Etwald
was accused and arrested, Arkel took
away his prisoner in custody by vir
tue of the warrant, and left Major Jen
alone with the counsel for the de
fence. The assassin, so-called, and In
spector Arkell left the room: they left
the house. When the sound of Et
waid’s carriage—for he went to Dean
minster Gaol in his own broughman—
had died away in the distance, Jen,
who had hitherto kept silence, raised
his head and looked at David.
“Well, sir,” he said, in an icy tone to
his adopted son. “I am waiting for
you to explain this very extraordinary
conduct. /
David replied in equally 'as cold a
tuner. t
“Major Jen \ have no exi
^Ijgyou.” J **c
i r-1 hi q rvn:u,(1 in?
K-e to sit there and tell me
■re a traitor, a coward, an
fcr,” echoed David, wit}^ a
tu hid v urrnn. M
HsiW A traitor to your*foster
was was your riva>
se MaurVe loved the wernan who
r«s you thaX^you act th4 unworthy
rt of defending his mvrtierer.”
“Very good, Major. I understand
why I am a traitor. But a coward?’'
“You are a coward in submitting
yourself to the influence of this base
assassin,” cried Jen, enraged by the
calmness of the young man, “and as
hfci ungrateful man—do you want an
fcplanation of that term?—you whom
I nave iovea ana Drougnt up as my
own son?”
“No. I can understand your anger
from your point of view.”
“My point of view! My point of
view!” raged Jen, stamping. “From
the point of view of the world, sir!
What will every one say when they
learn that you intend to defend Et
T ’‘They will say almost as cruel things
US ) uu ua*c otuu, n>uu uvu
still composed. “But I do not care
for the opinion of the public. I act
according to the dictates of my own
Jen drew back and stared at the
young man in angry surprise.
“Your own conscience?” he repeated
in disdain. “How can you talk in
that manner? What excuse can
“I have an excellent excuse,” inter
rupted David, rising.
“What is it, if I may be so bold as
to ask?”
“I refuse to tell you—at present.”
‘‘Indeed; and am I ever to learn the
reason of your extraordinary be
David considered.
“Yes, Major,” said he, at length.
“You shall learn my reason at—the
“At the trial?”
“I shall explain it when I make my
speech for the defence.’
“What do you mean?” cried Jon, his
curiosity getting the better of his anger,
“Is it possible that you believe in the
innocence of this man?
“As counsel for the defense you will
hardly expect me to answer that.”
“As your adopted father, I demand
an 'answer.”
“You shall have it, sir—at the trial.”
Thje obstinacy and marvellous com
posure the young man were not
withouriheir due effect on Major Jen.
He drew back, and after a moment's
Leonsideration, he spoke in all serious
;Daviu, saiu nt? muruj, mwc i»
. 1 I_Avf*«AV^inQP\7 1T1 1TA11P
FB^IUrimufe J --* — -
behavior, and you refuse to give me
your reasons therefor. If I wait until
the trial will you explain?”
“Yes. I have already told you so..
In my speech for the defence you will
be fully satisfied that I have good
cause to act as I am doing.”
“Very good,” said Jen calmly. “Then
I shall say nothing to anyone about
your curious behavior. I shall work
hard to secure the condemnation of this
scoundrel. You can do your best to
snve him. But against you, or for
you, I shall not open my mouth. At
the ’trial I shall expect an explanation.”
. “You shall have it.” »
m “But.” added Jen, raising his head,
■tag until that explanations we are ene
gg^tes—although not o[“—'-T -u~"
1 ' -Hitlre you to leavi
mly so—I shall
^would do so,
■k his head,
other way.
in Dean
minster and wait for the trial. I shall
defend Etwald to the best of my abil
ity; and then you can decide »/hether
I am tit to re-enter your house.”
“I can’t understand you, sir,” said
Jen, with a sigh. “Whatever your
reasons may be,I feel sure that I shall
not approve of them.”
“You approved of my reasons be
fore, Major. You shall approve of them
again. In the meantime, until the
i trial, let us remain strangers.”
He bowed, and without offering his
hand—which it is very probable Major
Jen would have refused to take—he
left the room. When the door closed
the older man sank into a chair and
passed his hand across a brow moist
with perspiration.
“There can be only one explanation,”
he muttered, “David is mad.”
The result of this conversation was
that David took up his residence in
Deanminster near to the gaol, and
saw Etwald frequently about his de
fence. The Doctor assured him that
he possessed sufficient power over
Dido, by reason of owning the Voodoo
Stone, to prevent her from becoming
a witness against him. Sarby was sat
isfied that if Dido did not appear to
give evidence, the case for the prose
cution would fall through. She was
the only witness of whom the barrister
and the prisoner had any fear.
On his part Major Jen, together with
Arkel, built up a strong case against
the man whom they truly believed to
be the culprit. Search had been made
in Etwald’s house, but no traces of
the dead body could be found. Its dis
appearance was almost as profound a
mystery as the reason which had in
duced Etwald to steal it. The reasons
for the theft of the devil-stick, for the
murder of Maurice, were plain enough;
but what had induced the Doctor t#
make away with the corpse no one
could discover. Etwald himself, even
to his counsel, was silent on the sub
Arkel had sought out as witnesses
against Etwald seven persons. First,
Mrs. Dallas, who was to prove that she
was hypnotized frequently by Dido.
Second, Isabella, who was to depose
that before the murder her mother had
been sent by Dido to “Ashantee” to
steal the devil-stick. Third, Batter
sea, who was to give evidence that he
had found the devil-stick within the
grounds of Mrs. Dallas. Fourth, Lady
Meg, who was to prove the offer of
Battersea to sell her the stick. Fifth,
Major Jen, who could explain the en
gagement of the dead man to Miss
Dallas, and the rivalry of his assassin.
Sixth, Jaggard, whose evidence would
i tend to show that Dido had drugged
him for the purpose of stealing the
body* And seventh, the most import
ant witness of all. Dido, who was to
impose to the manufacture of the
•poison, the refilling of the devil-stick
and the giving of it to Dr. Etwald so
that he might perpetrate the crime.
With these seven witnesses, Jen did
not see how Etwald could escape the
“Are you sure that all these people
will speak out?’’ asked the Major of
Arkel when the list was submitted to
“I am certain of all save one,” re
plied Arkel, in a dissatisfied tone, “and
the worst of it is that Dido is the
"Does she refuse to give evidence
against Etwald?”
"I should think so. Simply because
he is the holder of the Voodoo Stone.”
“Can we force her by threats to give
evidence?” said Jen, angrily.
“I don’t think so; it wouldn’t be
legal,” answered Arkel. “The only
chance of getting the negress to con
fess the whole truth is for either you
or I to gain possession of that stone.”
“Where is it?”
“Etwald carries it on his watch
chain. I saw him the other day in
prison, and he showed it to me. A
common little black stone, it is, but
Dido would kill him with pleasure to
get it.”
“Kill Etwald!” ejaculated Jen. Then,
after a pause, he added: “I believe
you are right, Arkel. for it is not the
man himself she cares about, but the
stone. However I’ll see Isabella and
make her persuade Dido to speak
against Etwald.”
The Major went at once to “The
Wigwam,” but, notwithstanding all his
eloquence, in spite of the tears and im
plorings of Isabella, the negress posi
tively declined to say a word against
the Great Master.
^ “While dat big man hab de Voodoo
Stone. I do notin'—notin’,” she said.
And from this obstinate position they
all failed to move her.
When Major Jen departed both Isa
bella and her mother were in despair.
Failing the proving of the crime
against Etwald. accusations might be
made against Mrs. Dallas. And this
result could be brought about by Dido,
did she choose; but the spell of the
Voodoo Stone was on her, and she re
fused to say anything likely to incul
pate its master.
“Why don't you get the Voodoo
Stone yourself, if you adore it so
much ’ cried Mrs. Dallas, exasperated
by this obstinacy.
Dido opened and shut her hand
“Ah, if hab dat Voodoo Stone. I be
great; great—de Queen ob the debbles.
But he no let it go!”
“Go and see Dr. Etwald. and tell him
you will give evidence against him
unless he gives you the stone.”
1 This suggestion came from Isabella,
I but of it Dido took no notice. With
out a word to mother or daughter, who
were both in tears, she left the room.
In the afternoon she was nowhere to
be found, and both Mrs. Dallas and Isa
bella came to the conclusion that she
had fled to avoid being forced into
giving incriminating evidence. They
fell into one another's arms, and were
beside themselves with terror. All the
evil done by Dido and Etwald seemed
likely to fall upon their innocent
“Still, there is a hope,” said Isabella,
recognizing the occasion for prompt
action, “we will speak to Major Jen
and ask him to send the police after
this wretched woman.”
This opinion was at once acted upon,
and a messenger was sent to “Ashen
tee;” but Major Jen was from home
•ad U was not till t o’clock that he
Prtwmted himself at ‘Tfcc Wigwum”
and heard the story of Dido's flight .
“But she can't be very far away,”
said Jen, hopefully. “I saw her In
Deanminster, and'thought she had
gone there with a message from you.”
“No, no,” cried Mrs. Dallas, wring
ing her hands. "She will catch the
train there and go to London. Oh,
why didn’t you stop her?”
“I wish I had known,” said Jen,
rather dismayed to find his fine case
against Etwald breaking down, “tut
even if we had forced her into court
she would not have given evidence
against the holder of the Voodoo
“Dat so!” said a horse voice at the
The three people turned, and saw
Dido, with an expression of triumph
on her dark face, enter the room.
“Dido!” cried Isabella. “You did
not run away?” ,
“No, missy, I tell de truth against
dat man.”
“But the Voodoo Stone,” said Jen,
Wondering what she meant.
Dido opened her clinched fist. The
Voodoo Stone lay in the palm of her
How she became possessed of the
Voodoo Stone, Dido refused to say.
Jen had learned from Inspector Arkel
that Etwald wore the tailisman on
his watch chain, and he wondered in
what fashion Dido had contrived to pen
etrate into prison and to obtain it from
the Doctor. The whole result of the
trial depended on the transfer of the
stone. If Etwald kept it Dido would
not dare to give evidence against him,
and so, in the absence of incriminating
details, he would go free. As it was,
the stone was now in the possession of
Dido, and for some reason, which Jen
was unable to fathom, she was quite
contented to betray her share in +he
Plot. By changing hands the Voodoo
Stone had transformed Dido into a
However, as the advantage derived
from the transfer was all on the side
of the prosecution, Jen did not think
it wise to inquire too closely into the
means which Dido had employed to
regain the talisman. He saw nothing
of David, who pointedly kept out of
his way. He made no inquiries of
Dido, and simply informed the Inspec
tor that the negress was reacy to ex
plain Etwald’s secrets, without telling
him why she was willing to do so.
Her Majesty’s Judges on Circuit
came to Deanminster, the court was
formally opened, and after some trivial
cases had been disposed of, the trial
of Regina vs. Etwald was announced.
The hall in which the court sat was
crowded with people from far and
near. There were even reporters from
London, sent down by the great dailies,
for the case had obtained more than
a local celebrity. Inspector Arkel,
with his seven witnesses on behalf of
the Crown, was at the table before the
Judges, and, with Major Jen, had held
several conversations with the Public
Prosecutor. David, calm and compos
ed, but paler than a corpse, was in his
place glancing over his brief, and ex
changing curt sentences with Etwald’s
solicitor. Lastly Etwald himself, the
terrible criminal, who, in the eyes of
the public, was a hardened and blood
thirsty monster, stepped into the dock.
Suave and smiling, he pleaded not
guilty to the indictment, and the trial
The Public Prosecutor stated the
case in all its fulness. The prisoner,
said he, was a medical man practising
in Deanminster. He had seen Miss
Isabella Dallas, and had fallen in love
with the lady, and also—which was
more important—with the fortune of
the lady. Evidently he had made up
his mind that no obstacle should stand
in the way of his marriage with Miss
Dallas. But it so happened that there
was one obstacle; the young lady was
in love with Mr. Maurice Alymer, a
young gentleman of position who held
a commission in Her Majesty’s army.
Her love was returned, and the young
couple were engaged.
Interruption by the prisoner’s coun
sel: “But without the consent of the
The Public Prosecutor thought that
the interruption of his learned friend
was out of place; as the refusal of Mrs.
Dallas—" mother, gentlemen of the
jury, to the young lady engaged to the
deceased gentleman, Mr. Maurice Aly
mer”—had nothing to do with the ac
tual facts of the case. The prisoner,
seeing that while Mr. Alymer lived, he
could never marry Miss Dallas, deter
mined to rid himself of a rival. The
prisoner had been in Barbadoes. and
while there he had learned many things
concerning African witchcraft, and had
become possessor of the Voodoo Stone,
a talisman which the black race held
in peculiar reverence. On his return
to England, the prisoner had become
acquainted with Mrs. Dallas, with the
daughter whom he designed to marry,
and with a negress called Dido, the
servant of the aforesaid Mrs. Dallas.
By means of the Voodoo Stone, the
prisoner made an absolute slave of the
negress, and could command her ser
vices at any time, even to the extent of
l he counsel for the defense objected
to the use of the word crime. Nothing,
he submitted, had yet been proved.
Counsel for the prosecution accepted
the correction of his learned friend,
and withdrew the obnoxious word
crime—if not altogether, at all events
for the time being. He would resume
his explanation of the case. Major
Jen, the adopted father of the deceased,
possessed a barbaric curiosity called by
civilized people the devil-stick, by bar
barians the wand of sleep. This he
had obtained from Ashantee, where it
was used to kill people inimical to the
King by the injection of poison. There
was no need to describe the devil-stick,
as it was on the table and would be
shown to the jury. This devil-stick_
\\ ith some impatience prisoner’s
counsel admitted that the devil-stick
had been used to kill the deceased and
requested the prosecutor to pass on to
more important details.
The counsel for the Crown thanked
his learned friend for the admission,
and would continue. The devil-stick
was stolen by Mrs. Dallas, who com
mitted the theft under the hypnotic
influence of the negresa Dido. By the
direction of Dr. Etwald, Dido refilled
the stick with fresh poison, being en
abled to manufacture the same from a
recipe of her grandmother's—said
grandmother having come from
Ashantee. where the stick—the devil
stick. be it understood—had been con
structed and used. She had given this
terrible weapon to the prisoner, who
with it had killed Mr. Alymer, his
Counsel for the defense submitted
that the crime had yet to be proved.
His learned friend was assuming too
The Public Prosecutor said that he
Ferted no more than he could prove
their lordships and the gentlemen
the Jury. The prisoner had killed
Mr. Alymer, and It van ter this of
fence. that he stood ik yonder dock.
As regards the theft of the body—
The lesser offense, said prisoner’s
counsel, was swallowed up and merged
in the greater; therefore, he protested
against the introduction of the theft of
the body.
The Judge thought that the two
crimes were, judicially speaking, one
and the same. It was right that the
Crown Prosecutor should place before
him the whole facts of the case. One
part might'neutralize or enhance or
explain the other. The Crown Prose
cutor was quite in order.
Counsel for the prosecution accepted
his Lordship’s ruling and would pro
ceed. The body of Mr. Aylmer was
taken to the residence of his adopted
father, Major Jen. There it was
placed in the bed room which had for
merly belonged to the living man.
Thence it was stolen by the prisoner.
Counsel for the prisoner: “All this
has yet to be proved.”
Counsel for the Crown: “I shall
prove it and at once. The jury are
now in possession of all the facts of
this very interesting case, and every
detail will be confirmed by the most
responsible witnesses. Call Major
Evidence—in brief—of Major Jen:
‘‘I was the guardian of the deceased
Maurice Alymer. I adopted him as my
son. He was in love with, and en
gaged to, Miss Dallas, but the mother
did not approve of the engagement. Dr.
Etwald, the prisoner, also loved Miss
Dallas, but she refused to marry him.
I showed the prisoner the devil-stick
and explained its use, whereupon he
wished to purchase it. I declined to
part with it, and afterwards it was
stolen. After its disappearance, Mr.
Alymer was killed by means of the
devil-stick poison. His hand was
i slightly scratched, and he could not
have died from so trivial a cause had
not the weapon used been poisoned.
Moreover, I recognized the perfume
which emanted from the body as that
of the devil-stick poison. Dr. Etwald
had threatened the deceased once or
twice. Afterwards, the body of de
ceased disappeared, and the. drug used
to stupefy the watcher of the dead was
the poison of the devil-stick.”
Miss Dallas deposed that she had
been engaged to deceased. Prisoner
wished to marry her and was jealous
of the late Mr. Alymer. Once or twice
he had threatened him. The negress,
Dido, was accustomed to hypnotize
Mrs. Dallas for nervous headaches.
While under the influence of hypno
tism Mrs. Dallas would act according
to the dictates of Dido. On the night
that the devil-stick was stolen from
the house of Major Jen, Mrs. Dallas
had been hypnotized by Dido. Witness
had followed her, and had seen the
theft of the stick. Afterwards Mrs.
Dallas had delivered it into the hands
of Dido. Witness never saw the devil
stick again. She had seen Mr. Alymer
on the night he was murdered, as he
had called to see her. Witness had
parted with him at the gates, and had
seen him go down the road towards
“Ashantee.” It was the last time wit
ness saw him. It was well known to
witness that Dido was under the influ
ence of Dr. Etwald, on account r> the
latter possessing the Voodoo Stone
charm. Dido had manufactured the
fresh poison of the devil-stick as a
penecea for nervous headache, from
which witness suffered. So far as wit
ness knew, deceased was in the beat
of spirits at the time of his death, and
had no intention of putting an end to
his life. Witness could swear that
prisoner was a bitter and jealous ene
my of deceased.
Mrs. Dallas declared that she suf
fered—like her daughter—from nerv
ous headaches. To cure these, she
submitted frequently to hvpnotic
treatment at the hands of Dido, who
was gifted with a strong will. On the
night the devil-stick was stolen she
had been hypnotized, but she did not
know what she did while under the
influence. While in the trance—as it
may be called—she never knew what
she did, and she had hitherto had
every confidence in Dido, as an old
and faithful servant, that she—Dido—
would not induce her to do wrong
things while hypnotized. She had
never seen the devil-stick, either at
the house of Major Jen or in her own.
The negress had prepared a drug for
the cure of headaches, which witness
believed was similar—as was judged
from the perfume—to the poison eon*
tained in the devil-stick. She knew
that her daughter wished to marry
the deceased, but for certain reasons—
not pertinent to the case—she had de
clined to sanction the engagement.
She would not have permitted her
daughter to marry Dr. Etwald, as she
did not like him or approve of the in
fluence which he exercised over Dido.
She knew what prisoner possessed the
Voodoo Stone, and by means of it
could make any member of the black
race do his will. Prisoner was a de
clared enemy of the deceased, and a
jealousy existed between them on ac
count of their daughter. In presence
of witnesses prisoner had threatened
deceased. She knew nothing of the
theft of the body.
L,<iuy ;ueg urance was called by the
prosecution to prove that a certain
mendicant, by name Battersea, had of
fered her the devil-stick for sale as a
curiosity. Knowing that it was the
weapon with which Mr. Alymer had
been killed—according to the reports
which were current at the time—she
had brought it to Major Jen. along
with the tramp.
Battersea entered the witness box
and deposed that he was of mixed
negro blood, and by reason of his su
perstition under the influence of Dido.
At times she hypnotized him, but he
did not know when she did it; he
thought it was Obi—African witch
craft. Sometimes he carried messages
between her and prisoner. Dr. Et
wald had told him to say one single
word to Dido—that was “devil-stick.’’
I He did not know what it meant. Af
! terwards the devil-stick—as he was
j told—disappeared and Mr. Alymer was
murdered. He found the devil-stick
on the grass, near the bushes, within
the gates of “The Wigwam.” Not
knowing what it was, he took it to
Lady Meg Brance.who sometimes gave
him money. She took witness and the
devil-stick to Major Jen, who now
possessed it. With regard to the steal
ing of the body, witness said that he
saw it placed in a carriage, and by
clinging on behind he had traced the
carriage to the house of Dr. Etwald,
in Deanminster. Prisoner drove the
carriage himself. Witness tried to get
money out of prisoner by telling him
what he had seen; but Dr. Etwald had
forced him to hold his tongue by
threatening him with the vengeance
of the Voodoo Stone. Being half an
African, witness was very much afraid
of the charm.
In his turn, Jaggard, but lately re
covered from his illness, related how
he had been drugged by Dido, and how
ah* had been concealed under the bed.
After hi* evidence, which did not take
long, had hem given, the principal
witness for the prosecution was call
ed, and the negress Dido, whose name
had been so often mentioned, entered
the witness box.
la brief her evidence was as fol
lows: “I am a fall-blooded negress,
born in Barbadoes. My grandmother
came from Ashantee, and knew all
about the wand of sleep. She taught
me how to manufacture the poison. I
came to England with my mistress, and
met with prisoner, who called at the
house. He knew a good deal about
Obi, and showed me the Voodoo Stone.
A spirit dances in the stone and I was
bound to do what the spirit told me.
It said that I was to obey prisoner. Dr.
Etwald wanted to marry my young
mistress, but she was engaged to Mr.
Alymer. Prisoner told me tht Mr.
Alymer must be got out of the way.
and suggested the use of the devil
stick, which he had seen in the smok
ing-room of Major Jen. I agreed to
help him; and by hyptonizing my mis
tress I made her steal the devil-stick.
She brought it to me, all unconscious
of having done so, and I filled It with
fresh poison. On the night of the mur
der Mr. Alymer called to see my mis
tress, also did Dr. Etwald. When Mr.
Alymer left I gave the stick to pris
oner, and he followed deceased to kill
him. Next day I heard Mr. Alymer
was dead. After a time prisoner told
me that we must steal the body, so that
traces of poison should not be found
when a post mortem examination was
made. I agreed to help him, and
gaining admission into the chamber of
death I hid under the bed. When Jag
gard fell asleep I drugged him with the
poison of the devil-stick and opened
the window, outside of which prisoner
was waiting. I assisted him to carry
the body to the carriage, and then left
him. That is all I know.”
This evidence closed the case for the
prosecution and—as may be guessed—
it caused a profound sensation in court.
Everyone without exception looked up
on the prisoner as guilty, and they con
sidered it futile when David Sarby
rose to deliver his speech for the de
fense. The young man was even pal
er than usual, and when he rose laid
down the devil-stick, at which he had
teen looking. When on his feet he
glanced round the court and caught
the gaze of Isabella, who was staring
eagerly at him. Then he turned to his
clerk. Dr. Etwald, still composed—
even after the frightful evidence that
had been given—smiled coldly on his
counsel. David shuddered, and pick
ing up the devil-stick, spoke sharply
and to the point.
“My lord, and gentlemen of the jury,
you have heard the evidence for the
Crown, which makes out that my client
is guilty. That evidence is wrong, as can
be proved by one witness. I am the wit
ness. In my rooms there is lying a con
fession, signed and witnessed, which sets
forth that I am the guilty person. It was
I, not Dr. Etwald, who murdered Maurice ,
Alymer.” (Sensation in the court). “Yes,
I was in love with Miss Dallas, and
therefore was jealous of Maurice. I knew
that Dido possessed the devil-stick—how,
it does not matter—and I bribed her to
to give it to me. I pretended to go to
Dondon on the night of the murder, but
instead of doing so I remained in the
grounds of Mrs. Dallas, where I obtained
the devil-stick from Dido. 1 saw Maur
ice meet w'ith Miss Dallas. I saw them
kiss and part. Inflamed by jealousy, I
rushed after him and met him on the
road. He turned in surprise, and flung
out his arms to keep me off. The devil
stick, with its poison fang protruding,
was in my grasp, and in throwing out
his arm I wounded him in the palm of ]
the hand, thus—"
David took the devil-stick firmly in his |
grasp and compressed the handle. At I
once the iron tongue with its drop of
venom appeared. With the sharp point
he made an irregular wound on the palm
of his hand, and cast the devil-stick on
th# table before him. A moment after
wards, amid the silent horror of the
crowded court, he fell down—dead.
(To be concluded.)
Trespassing on the Czar.
Cornhill Magazine.
“You had better get out here,” said
the countess, as the britzka came out
on the edge of the Crimean plateau,
above the broad belt of undercliff
which sloped away below us, a confu
sion of gray rock and green forest, to
the distant blue rim of the Black sea.
“You English like walking; besides,
I want some wild peonies, which you
can bring to the Villa W-. We
lunch at 2. Then this view has always
the same effect on strangers; you will
be silent or sentimental the rest of the
way, and it is an hour’s drive down.”
I thought marooning in a Crimean
forest a severe penalty even for such
offenses against the social code, but I
knew the countess too well to object,
though our acquaintance only dated
from that morning, when she had res
cued me from the posting master at
Simpheropol. He asked me for a drink
out of my railway reading lamp, under
the impression it was a flask. Being j
a nervous Englishman, I had not the j
courage to retuse nor the Russian to
explain. Besides, I thought it could
not be nastier than vodky, but it was,
and he gave me in charge for an at
tempt to drug him, though the paraffin
had certainly not acted as a sedative.
If the countess had not appeared and
settled everything out of hand by of
fering me a lift over the mountains to
Yalta, I might have become an inter
national incident.
“That path will take you straight
j down to the coast,” continued the
countess. “You had better not leave
! it. because of the Jewish vineyards; the
lders sit on stages in the middle and |
■ shoot. Oh, no! they don’t ask you 'to i
go, because, of course, no one would !
do anything a Jew asked him. The !
count—he is procurror of the dist ict j
I —was so puzzled last week because
; an elder’s gun burst when firing at a j
trespasser, and he was killed The j
widow and six children-Sad? Oh. I
j you don’t understand it. It was the |
i Jew that was kil'ed. Well, they all
• came and accused the trespasser of the j
' murder, but the count let him off Si
I beria because he agree! to marry the
widow. Yes, I think the poor feliow
was wrong to do so. But, then, if ibe
worst came to the worst, it would only
be Siberia again, and it’s onlj^ten years
for a Jewess. You will keep on the
path unless you meet people with packs,
especially if they look like Greeks;
they are always dangerous when smug
gling. And if you come to a house
keep away if it looks like a Tartar
farm, for the men are abroad all day
and the women shut up and the dogs
go about in packs. Once they ate a
Turk, all but his boots, and when the
relatives claimed them the Tartar said
they were his, because he owned the
dogs, and the Turk belonged to them
and the boots to the Turk; so the
count had them given to the pack and
restored them to the original owner.
Then when yon come to the meet fol
i 7 y--y^ - v 11 - ^
go the other way or you will come to
Livadia, the emperor’> villa. There
uw three cordons of soldiers aronnd it
and the neighborhood is very un
healthy, especially few strangers. It
is really very dangerous the way you
Englishmen will walk about in strange
countries. Be sure and remember
about the Jew watchmen and the Greek
smugglers and the Tartar dogs and
the peonies and Livadia and luncheon
at 2. I hope you will enjoy your walk.
Au revoir! Peskoryei, Ivan!”
I hoped so, too, but not confidently,
having suffered much abroad from the
national reputation for love of adven
ture. In appearance I knew the na
tionalities of the Crimea to be equally
disreputable, and I should have liked
a clearer indication of viciousness in
watchmen, smugglers and watchdogs
than their religion.
After an hour’s walk through the
woods I came out on the sea at-the
mouth of a wooded glen between two
low scarped headlands. Wherever
the cliffs were not absolutely sheer un
dergrowth and rank plants grew down
to the shingle beach. The path was
unmistakable, a rough track leading
up over the bluff on either side, but in
one direction it led to luncheon and
the countess, in the other to Livadia
and the cordons. Scarcely was I se
curely impaled on the horns of this
dilemma when I heard a clattering
above and a pony appeared over the
eastern bluff. On the pony sat a port
ly personage in a blue caftan and red
fez. In one hand he held a large white
umbrella open over his head; in the
other he held a closed green one, with
which he banged the pony when it
made a false step. Behind him a long
cavalcade of pack ponies successively
topped the sky line; every third or
fourth was led by a picturesque ruffian
with an armory of small arms in his
My rapidity of decision often in
creases with the emergency. In a mo
ment I had decided and had swiftly
ascended the western bluff. At the top
I turned. The cavalcade had halted
and the men were gathered around the
man on the pony, who was gesticulat
ing with the closed umbrella and en
forcing important points with the open
“Well,” thought I, “they are certain
ly smugglers, and probably Greeks. I
shall surely be taken prisoner and
probably be held to ransom. I wish I
had never left Ennismore gardens.
Better an August in London, where
police are. than a vlllegiature with
smugglers.” So I turned to go down
the other slope, when below in the
next glen I saw a flat-roofed building
in a courtyard. Not a soul was to be
seen, but the yard was full of dogs
(asleep in the sun or prowling.
“Well,” I thought, “they are certainly
watchdogs and probably Tartars. I
shall surely be bitten and possibly de
voured. I wish I had walked from Slm
phoropol. Better have worn out one's
boots than have preserved them at the
expense of one’s person.” So I turned
again and went into the woods on the
right. After pushing some way through
the grass I came out on a clearing
planted with vines. In the middle was
a staging and on it stood an unkempt,
elderly individual. The sun glinted on
the barrel of a long firelock as he
moved from side to side, uttering at
intervals a melodious bellow.
“Well,” thought I, “he is certainly
a watchman, and he looks like a Jew.
If he Bees me I shall surely be shot,
and possibly prosecuted. Bettor any
fate than a Jewish widow with six chil
dren.” S I returned to the cliffs and
made my way over the rocka, which
were piled half way up their face,
through very thick scrub. When I
reached the next headland I saw grow
ing above, on the top of the cliff, a
grand bed of wild peonies. I climbed
up a steep rock couloir to the top of
the bluff, and sitting down among the
peonies looked back on the supposed
Tartar farm lying below in the full
blaze of a Crimean sun. Nothing
stirred except some restless or flea-bit
ten dog, but in a strip of shade under
the eaves, on a bench which ran the
length of the house, lounged yellow
serge-clad soldiers in every attitude of
heat and boredom. Along the glen,
in shade of rock and tree, stood sen
tries, as invisible to me when on the
opposite bluff as I was then to them,
but now as painfully apparent to
me as I- But I was in the midst
of the peonies before this thought had
had time to take shape. Unfortunate
ly. in moving, I started a stone, which
fell over the cliffs onto the rocks be
low, ringing through the still air like a
pistol shot. It was instantly answer
ed by a hoarse challenge from the
beach, repeated a few yards further on,
and again further, until the flle-flre
of Russian gutturals died away round
the next headland and far inland up
the glen.
“Well," thought I, “they are certain
ly sentries, and evidently a cordon. I
wish I had never seen the countess.
Better be convicted of poisoning a post
master than arrested for trespassing
on the Czar. I shall surely be shot
and probably sent to Siberia, for this
is the Livadia cordon, and I am inside
I carefully parted the peonies which
screened me from the beach and look
ed down. A soldier was standing an
kle deep in the ripple in an odd, con
strained attitude. I wondered what
he was doing, until I noticed that a
little bright “o” under his cheek was
a rifle barrel and that I was looking
down the muzzle. I withdrew to the
depth of the peony bed. A half hour,
I should say, passed. I held my breath
all the time. I was roused by a noise
of clambering below, and slid one eye
toward the edge of the peony bed.
Close underneath the round, red face
of a Russian private rose over the
rocks; he clambered steadily up, hold
ing his rifle over his head and stop
ping occasionally to wipe sweat out of
his eyes, for the rocks were steep and
held the heat like a furnace, and he
was a northerner and a man of the
plains. At the foot of the little cliff
he stopped; he looked at the peony
bed at the top. he looked at the twenty
feet of steep rock below it, then picked
up a pebble and threw it up as a dep
uty. “Hooshi" said he. I scuffled
among the peonies to represent a start
led animal, and he sat down with his
back to the clifTs with the air of a man
■who haa done more than his duty and
means to neglect it a little. I picked
a bunch of peonies and looked out
again. He still, like a good Russian,
had his eyes fixed on Constantinople.
I crept into the woods and through
them, keeping a line which would take
me right out of the angle of the cordon
within which I was caught. In the
woods I passed the other two cordons
without difficulty, for I was on the
lookout and they ware not. Presently
I came against g holly hedge, broke
through it, and toond myself in a laby
rinth of gardens, through which I. wan
dered for hours, feeling like a charac
ter in the "Arabian Nights.’
•gain shall I see sock a sight
acres of undercut.
1 iMflMfttfar mi
they disturbed me no farther by
their profound bovs; finally, in a
Greek temple arranged as an orchid
house I came upon two young ladles l
cutting (lowers. My peonies appeared
to draw their attention, and after a
little whispering one asked in Russian:
“Pray, sir, would you tell us where you
found those peonies? My sister and I
have looked for them in the park, but
in vain. Oh, thank you! Indeed, we
did not mean to deprive you—but if
they were really intended for us—at
least you must allow us to compensate
! you!” and she handed me her basket
of orchids.
••’t he peonies,” said I, “grow on th«
bluff inside the outside cordon, but
they are difficult of access, and if 1
might sometimes bring some—”
“To General V-’s quarters, in the
left wing,” said she. “We will ex
change them for some of these flowers
which—are also diffic ult of access.”
A harsh voice called “Sonva.
“That is the general; we must n<4
stay; do svidanya.” said they.
I thought I must not either, and hua
ried away through the other end ol
the temple; but I now had a purpose,
A bunch of peonies had brought ms
into Livadia; a basket of orchids
should get me out of it.
I walked as quickly as dignity would
permit toward a distant stone wall in
which was a gate and grille faced out
side with sheet iron. Beside it stood
a guard house, before it two sentries
and a great golden double-headed eagle
sprawled and gaped above. As I came
up the two soldiers crossed bayoneta
before the gate.
“Why haven’t you opened the gate,”
said I; “I shalL positively have to
wait. | *. |
“Your well-bornship will pardon,’*
said one; “none may pass.”
"Absurd,” said I; “you know who I
am; open at once.”
“Your high-well-bornship will deign
to have patience; it is an order. His
majesty arrives to-morrow.”
“Of course, but I hasten to her su
preme excellency. Countess W-with
these flowers from the noble ladles,
the daughters of his excellency, the
highly honored General V-.”
“But I have not the key,” your ex
cellency,” said the poor mun, in great
“Disgraceful negligence," said I; “go,
get it at once.”
"But the sergeant has it, and he is
digging potatoes, and l dare not leave
my post.” j
i turned away in despair to try some
where else, when in the distance, up
the vista of gardens. I saw the two
young ladies of the temple, standing
with a big man in a large white cap
and the uniform of a general of tha
I guard. One of them held the fatal*
! peonies in her hand, and the big man
j appeared to be interested in the con
I versatlon. Suddenly he wheeled round
1 and strode swiftly in the direction of
the gate.
“There is General V-,” said I to
the sentries, pointing out the white
cap in the distance, as it appeared over
an intervening cluster rose. “If ha
comes and finds me waiting here, there
will be a terrible row. Now, I do not
like getting anybody into trouble, so I
will incommode myself so i’ar as to
climb over the gate.”
"Thank your high-well-born supreme
excellency," said the guards.
I went up that gate like a squirrel,
orchids and all, for the general's steps
were already crunching the gravel of
the path behind. As I bestrode the
golden eagle he saw me, picking up IBs, ,
sword, and ran. his spurs winking over
the grass in the sunlight and the or
ders twinkling on hia tunic. I pride
myself on being the first foreigner who
ever made a Russian general run.
I cut the descent short, picked my
self up and hurried down the avenue,
praying that the Iron gate might be
bullet proof and the potato garden not
convenient to the guard-house. I did
not run, but that was on account of
the patrols. Some of them barred the
way, but I waved them aside with the
orchids and they fell back apologetic
ally and saluted. Presently I met a
well-appointed brougham, empty. I
stopped it, got In and told the coach
man to drive quickly to the Villa
W-. At sunset I entered the Count
ess' hall.
I was met by the cotint. “You're
safe, then,” said he; "that will save
trouble; but,” he asked anxiously,
"have you the wild peonies of the
“No; but I have the hot-house or
chids of the general's daughter,” I re
plied. He shook his head dubiously,
and went Into the drawing room.
"You are late for luncheon," said the
countess, “and you have not the peon
less. Don’t explain; It will bore me—
oh, how lovely! You Englishmen are
wonderful. At noon I leave you In the
forest on foot looking for peonies; at
sunset you come out of it in a carriage
and pair, with priceless orchids. Pray
explain how you came by them. No,
it will not bore me. Why, Llvadla
has not the like. What! you think It
has? Very well. Then the count shall
take you there to-morrow' -you could
not get In otherwise—with an Intro
duction to General V-, the groom
of the palace, who will show you the
gardens. He has very pretty daugh
ters; take them a bouquet and they
will give you flowers which you ran
bring to me.”
But I did not explain, nor did I gn
to Llvadla, not seeing any point In
which I could improve on my first visit.
Among the wilder trlb-s of the Caucasus
every child is taught to tm< the dagger
almost as soon as he can walk. The chil
dren first learn to stab water with«mi
making a splash, and by Incessant prtie.
tlce acquire an extraordinary command
oven the weapon.
Vie U and pi) tf satisfied.
KOHL CO., 377 S,
Country Printer* would du well
to contult u* before gir
lax utlrntM.

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