The Spruce Street Tragedy; or, Old Spicer Handles a Double Mystery. Cobb Irvin Shrewsbury

with a severe asthmatic attack. She was rarely seen outside of this basement, for a flight of stairs was a terror to her."

      "She suffered from rheumatism, I have been told."

      "Yes, fearfully; it settled in her limbs, and caused a lameness, which was relieved somewhat by the assistance of the black walking-stick you see by her side."

      "But she did go out sometimes?"

      "Only at rare intervals, and then always in a carriage."

      "She was quite well off – rich, in fact?"

      "Of late years she has been increasing her wealth pretty fast. She owns this house, and the large brick block directly back of it, which fronts on York Street."

      "She was mighty close-fisted," observed Stricket.

      "Yes," assented the coroner, "she was of a parsimonious disposition, and by some in this neighborhood was called very grasping and miserly."

      "It seems to me the chief ought to know something about her affairs," remarked Stricket, in a musing tone; "for, if I remember rightly, he was employed by her years ago, when he was practicing law."

      "You are right, Mr. Stricket," assented the coroner, "years ago he was her counsel, but only, as he informs me, on two or three occasions."

      At that moment the chief and several other officials joined them. As they seemed very willing to talk, Old Spicer determined to be a listener, and very sparing of his own words.

      CHAPTER III.

      OLD SPICER BEGINS AN INVESTIGATION

      "What do you think of the case, Spicer?" asked the chief, carelessly.

      "I have formed no decided opinion as yet," was the reply, "have you?"

      "Well," rejoined the chief, "I am beginning to map out a theory."

      "I should like to hear it," said Spicer.

      "I have no objection to giving you my ideas," returned Bollmann, "you see of late, the old woman had become more grasping than ever. She didn't care who came here so long as they left plenty of money behind them, and there's no doubt of it, the greater part of those who frequented the place were a pretty tough set."

      "That's evident, I think."

      "Yes, young men and young women have been frequently seen in this basement, whose hilarity was so violent at times during the night that the upper tenants were more or less disturbed. We infer, too, from what we have seen of the series of rooms we have stumbled upon, that they were not for the accommodation of the most law-abiding of our citizens."

      "You think, then, this murder was committed by some of the dead woman's patrons?"

      "I think that may be the case."

      "And you will shape your investigation accordingly?"

      "Yes; and our first move will be to find out who was here last night."

      "Have you made any progress in that direction?"

      "One of the tenants of the house – Otto Webber – who will remove from here in a day or two, came into the basement last night, about 8.30, to tell Mrs. Ernst he was about to vacate his apartments. He had with him Alexander Lane and Andrew Lane, brothers, who live on Congress Avenue. Andrew is to rent the tenement to be vacated by Webber. The latter introduced the widow to him. While they were talking, the sound of female voices and those of a couple of men reached them, from one of the little back rooms."

      "Ah-ha! did Webber catch a glimpse of them?"

      "No, he did not see any of the party; neither did his companions. But, Spicer, my men are hunting for that quartet."

      "So?"

      "Yes, just so."

      "What else have you to go by?"

      "A woman in the brick block which the widow owned, just back of this and fronting on York Street, looked from a rear window, last night, and saw a light burning here until nearly eleven o'clock."

      "The quartet probably kept it up pretty late."

      "Then Mrs. John Newstrum, who lives directly over this room, just told me that she heard persons down here as late as ten o'clock, and after."

      "Did she hear anything like a quarrel?"

      "Nobody in the house heard any quarreling or loud words during the night."

      "Is it thought the murderers got away with much wealth?"

      "When we searched the house, a little while ago, and talked with Mr. Zunder here, we concluded that they probably got away with between four and five hundred dollars. She was known to have about that amount by her, as she was intending to pay certain bills that were due."

      "Not a very big haul, if that's all they got."

      "I am confident they got no more than five hundred dollars at the most," said Mr. Zunder, emphatically.

      "I'll bet they had good reasons for believing that they were going to get more," observed Detective Reilly, confidently.

      "There's no doubt about that," said the chief, quickly; "they supposed the old woman kept her pile right here in this basement."

      "My theory," remarked Brewer, "is that the murderer or murderers were very familiar with the premises, and that they came here with the intention of robbing the old woman of a big stake. In order to carry out their villainous work, they first bound and gagged her, and then got her onto the sofa there."

      "You don't think, then, Phil, that they intended to murder her?" said Old Spicer, inquiringly.

      "I do not," was the reply. "You see, after they got that gag in her mouth, they probably began to go through the several rooms, and left her tied where she is now lying. The fact that she was such a sufferer from asthma may not have been known to the criminals. With a handkerchief stuck in her mouth, and her asthmatic difficulty, you can readily see that an old woman like her could not live long."

      "I believe you're right, Phil," said one of the other detectives. "I don't believe they intended to kill her."

      "Have you questioned everybody in the house?" asked Old Spicer of the chief.

      "Yes," was the answer, "we have had something to say to every one who lives here."

      "You learned nothing more, I suppose?"

      "Nothing more of any consequence."

      "Have you heard what this young man has to say, chief?" asked Officer Cannon, indicating a person of about twenty-five who was standing by his side.

      "No," answered the chief; "what is it?"

      "Speak up for yourself, young man," said the officer, encouragingly.

      The young man, thus admonished, advanced and said:

      "I was returning from a whist party with a friend about one o'clock this morning. Just before we reached Spruce Street, on Oak, we heard the loud talk of three men in a buggy. They acted as if they might be partially intoxicated. The team was going as rapidly as it could. Just before they came up to where we were they spied us, and we heard one of them say, 'hush!' Not a word more came from their lips until long after they had passed us, then we could hear them talking again."

      "Hum! Did they come from this way?" asked the chief.

      "Yes, sir; they were not far from this house when we first saw them."

      "Which way did they go after they had passed you?"

      "Toward Howe Street."

      "Did you notice anything in the buggy?"

      "Yes, sir; we both noticed it."

      "What was it?"

      "An ordinary packing box."

      "In front?"

      "No, sir; fastened in the rear, behind the seat."

      "You are sure they didn't drive out Oak Street?"

      "I am not quite sure; but I think they turned into Howe."

      "I have heard something of this story before," said the