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( THE MARK OF CAIN )
Copyright, X917, by^J^B^LJpplncott^Oa^J_^
Coroner Berg was disheart
ened. He had a natural dislike
for the “person or persons un
known” conclusion, and yet,
what other one was possible?
Perfunctorily, he called the of
fice boy, who was employed in
Mr. Trowbridge’s private of
! fice.
I A few of the audience noted
1 that this was the youth who had
' remarked “Gee!” with such en
thusiasm and gave him a second
look for that reason.
“What is your name?”
“Fibsy.—I mean Terence Me-.
Quire.”
“Why did you say Fibsy?”
! “ ’Cause that's what I’m most
lv called.”
“Why?”
“ ’Cause I’m such a liar.’
“This is no time for frivolity,
\ young man; remember you re a
witness.”
“Sure! I know what that
, means. 1 ain't a goin’ to lie now,
you Bet! T know what I’m
about.” *
| “Very well, then. What can
you tell us of Mr. Trowbridge’s
movements yesterday?”
“A whole heap. I was on the
job all day.”
“‘What did you see or hear?”
“I seen and heard a whole lot.
But I guess what’ll interest you
most is a visitor Mr. Trowbridge
had in the mornin’.”
“A visitor?”
“Yep. And they come near
havin' a fight.”
The audience listened breath
lessly. The red-headed, freckle
faced youth, not more than 16,
held attention as no other wit
ness had.
It was not because of his heroic
presence, or his manly bearing.
Indeed, he was of the shuffling,
toe-stubbing type, and by his own
admission, lie had gained a nick
name by continual and more or
less successful lying. But in
spite of that, truth now shone
from his blue eyes and human
nature is quick to recognize the
signs of honesty.
“Tell about it in your own
way,” said the coroner, while
the reporter braced up wiife new
hope.
“Well, Mr. Berg, it was this
way. Yest-day niornin’ a guy
blew into the office,——— ”
“What time?”
“ ’Bout ’leven, I guess. It was
’bout an hour ’fore eats. Well,
he wanted to see Mr. T. and as
he was a feller that didn’t seem
to want to be fooled with, I
slips in to Mr. T.’s private office
an’ I sez, ‘Guy outside wants to
see you.’ ‘Where’s his card?’
says Mr. T. ‘No pasteboards,’
says I, ‘but he says you’ll be
pleased to meet him.’ Well,
about now, the guy, he’s a big
one, walks right over me and
gets himself into the inner of
fice. ‘Ilello, Uncle Rowly,’ says
he, and stands there smilin’.
‘Good gracious, is this you,
Kane?’ says Mr. Trowbridge,
kinder half pleased an’ half mad.
‘Yep,’ says the big feller,—and
sits down as ea’m as you please.
‘Whatter you want?’ says Mr.
‘Briefly? says the guy,
lookin’ sharp at him. ‘Yes,’ an’
Mr. T. jest snapped it out.
‘Money,’ says the guv. '-1
thought so. How much?’ an’ Mr.
T. shut his lips together like he
always does when lie’s mad.
‘Fifty thousand dollars,’ says
Friend Nephew, without tiie
quiver of an eyelash. ‘Good
morning,’ says uncle s’renely.
But, the chap wasn’t fazed.
‘Greeting or farewell?’ says he,
smilin' like. Then Mr. T. lit
into him. ‘A farewell, sir!’ he
says, ‘and the last!’ But
Nephew comes up smilin’ once
again, already, yet! ‘Oh, say,
now, uncle,’ he begins, and then*
lie lays out before Mr. T. the
slickest minin’ proposition it was
ever my misfortune to listen to,
when 1 didn’t have no coin to go
into it myself! But spiel as
beautiful as - he would, he
couldn’t raise answerin’ delight
on the face of his beuefaetor-to
be. He argued an’ he urged an’
he kerjoled, but not a mite could
he move him. At last Mr. Trow
bridge, he says, ‘No, Kane, I’ve
left you that amount in my will,
or I'll give it to you if you’ll
stay in New York city; but I
won’t give it to you to put in
any confounded hole in the
ground out west!’ And no
amount of talk changed that idea
of Mr. T.’s. Well, was that
nephew mad! Well, was he!
Not ragin’ or blusterin’, but just
a white and still sort o’ mad,
* 7
like he’d staked all and lost. He
got up, with dignerty and he
bowed a little mite sarkasterkul,
and he seys, ‘ ’Scuse me fer
troublin’ you, uncle; but I know
of one way to get that money.
I’ll telephone you when I’ve
raided it.’ And he walked out,
not chop-fallen, but with a stride
like Jack the Giant Killer.’
Fibsy paused, and there was a
long silence. The coroner was
trying to digest this new testi
mony, that might or might not
be of extreme importance.
“What was this man’s name?”
he said, at last.
“I don’t remember his full
name, sir. Seems ‘sif the last
name began with L,—but I
wouldn’t say for sure.”
“And his first name?”
“Kane, sir. I heard Mr. Trow
bridge call him that a heap of
times, sir.’’ *b*»*—*-“ - .
“Kane!” >
“Yes, sir.” And the Fibsy
added, in an awed voic<5, “that’s
why I said, ‘Gee’!”
The coroner looked at the ex
pectant audience. “It seems to
me,” he began slowly, “that this
evidence of the office boy, if
credible or not, must at least be
looked into. While not wishing
to leap to unwarranted conclu
sions, we must remember that the
Swede declared that with his
dying breath, Mr. Trowbridge
denounced his murderer as Cain!
It must be ascertained if, instead
of the allusion to the first murder
er, which we naturally assumed,
he could have meant to designate
this nephew, named Kane. Does
any one present know the sur
name of this, nephew?”
there was a stir in the back
part of the room, and a man
rose and came forward. He was
tall and strong and walked with
that free, swinging step, that sug
gests to those who know of such
things, the memory of alfalfa and
cactus. With shoulders squared
and head erect, he approached
the coroner at his table and said,
“I am Kane Landon, a nephew of
the late Rowland Trowbridge.”
CHAPTER VI.
Out of the We3t.
A bomb dropped from an air
plane could scarcely have caused
greater excitement among the
audience. Every eye in the room
followed the tall young figure, as
Kane Landon strode to the table
behind which the coroner sat.
That worthy official looked as if
he had suddenly been bereft of
all intelligence as well as power
of speech. In fact, he sat and
looked at the man before him,
with such an alarmed expression,
that one might almost have
thought he was the culprit, and
the new witness the accusing
judge.
But Mr. Berg pulled himself
together, and began his perfunc
tory questions.
“You are Kane Landon?”
“Yes.”
“Related to Mr. Trowbridge?”
“I am the nephew of his wife,
who died many years ago.”
“Where do you live?”
“For the last five years I have
lived in Denver, Col.”
“And you are east on a visit?”
“I came east, hoping to per
suade my uncle to finance a min
ing project in which I am inter
ested.”
“And which he refused to
do?” •
“Which he refused to do.”
There was something about the
young man’s manner which was
distinctly irritating to Coroner
Berg. It was as if the stranger
was laughing at him, and yet no
, one could show a more serious
face than the witness presented.
The onlookers held their breath
in suspence. A vice stared at
young Laudon. She remembered
him well. Five years ago they
had been great friends, when
she was 15 and he 20. Now, he
looked much more than five
years older. He was bronzed,
and his powerful frame had ac
quired a strong, well-knit effect
that told of outdoor life and
much exercise. His face was hard
and inscrutable of expression.
He was not prepossessing, nor
of an inviting demeanor, but
rather repelling in aspect. His
stern, clear-cut mouth showed a
haungthy curve and a scornful
pride shone in the steely glint.
of his deep gray eyes. He stood
erect, his hands carelessly
clasped behind him, and seemed
to await further questioning^
Nor did he wait long. "*The
coroner’s tongue once loosed, his
queries came direct and rapid.
“Will you give an account of
your movements yesterday, Mr.
Landon!”
“Certainly. The narrative of
my uncle’s office boy is substan
tially true. I reached New York
from the west day before yester
day. I went yesterday morning
to see my uncle. I asked him for
the money I wanted and he re
fused its. Then I went away.”
“And afterward!”
‘ ‘ Oh, afterward, I looked about
the city a bit, and went back to
my hotel for luncheon.”
“And after luncheon?”
Landon’s aplomb seemed sud
denly to desert him. ‘ ‘ After lun
cheon,” he began, and paused.
He shifted his weight to the other
foot; he unclasped his hands and
put them in his pockets; he
frowned as if in a brown study
and finally, his eyes fell on
Avice and rested there. The girl
was gazing at him with an eager,
strained face, and it seemed to
arrest his attention to the ex
clusion of all else.
“Well?” said the coroner, im
patiently.
Landon_fair hair was thick .
and rather longer than the con
ventions decreed. He shook
back this mane, with a defiant
gesture, and said clearly, “After
luncheon, I went to walk in Van
Cortlandt park.”
The audience gasped at Lan
don curiously. Hoyt was a clev
er man and quick reader of char
acter, but this young westerner
apparently puzzled him. He
seemed to take a liking to him,
but reserved decision as to the
justification of this attitude,
j Avice went white and was afraid
she was going to faint. To her,
.the admission sounded like a con
fession of the crime, and it was
too incredible to be believed.
And yet, as she remembered
Kane, it was like him to tell the
truth. In their old play days, he
had often told the truth, she re
membered, even though to his
own disadvantage. And she re
membered, too, how he had often
escaped with a lighter punish
ment because he had been frank!
Was this his idea? Had he really
killed his uncle, and fearing dis
covery, was he trying to fore
stall the consequences by admis
sion?
Mr. Landon, went on the
coroner, “that is more or less in
criminating statement.. Are you
aware your uncle was murdered
in Van Cortlar»dt park woods
yesterday afternoon?”
“Yes,” was the reply, but in
a voice so low as to be almost in
audible.
“At what time were you
there?”
“I don’t know, exactly. I re
turned home before sundown.”
“Why did you go there?”
“Because when with my uncle
in the morning he happened to re
mark there were often good golf
games played there, and as it
was a beautiful afternoon, and I
had nothing especial to do, I
went out there.”
“Why did you not go to call
on your cousin, Miss Trow
bridge?”
Landon glared at the speak
er. “You are outside your priv
ileges in asking that question. I
decline to answer. My personal
affairs in no way concern you.
Kindly get to the point. Am I
under suspicion of being my
uncle’s murderer?”
“Perhaps that is too definite
a statement, but it is necessary
for us to learn the truth about,
your implication in the matter.”
“Go on, then, with your ques
tions. But for Heaven’s sake,
keep to the point, and don’t bring
in personal or family affairs.
And incidentally, Miss Trow
bridge is not ray cousin.”
The words were spoken lightly,
almost flippantly, and seemed to
some listeners as* if meat to divert
attention from the business in
hand.
“But she is the niece of the late
Mr. Trowbridge.”
‘“Miss Trowbridge is the
(laugher, who died years ago. 1
am the nephew ol Mr. ’1 row
bridge’s late wife, as I believe 1
have already stated.”
Nobody liked the young man’s
manner, ll was careless, indif
ferent, and inattentive. He stood
easily, and was in no way em
barrassed, but his bravado,
whether real or assumed, was dis
tasteful to those who were earn
estly trying to discover the facts
of the crime that had been com
mitted. There were many who
at once leaped to the conclusion
that the Swede’s testimony of
the victim's dying words, proved
conclusively that the murderer
was of a necessity this young
man, whose name was Kane, and
who so freely admitted his pres
ence near the scen^f the trag
edy. _
“As you suggest, Mr. Lan
don,” said the coroner, coldly, V
“we will keep to the point. When flfe
you were in Van Cortlandt park,
yesterday, did you see your
uncle, Mr. Trowbridge there?”
“I did not.”
The answer was given in a
careless, unconcerned way that
exasperated the coroner.
“Can you prove that?” a.
snapped out.
Landon looked at him in mild
amazement, almost amusement.
“Certainly not,” he replied;
“nor do I need to. The burden
of proof rests with you. If you
suspect me of/having killed my
uncle, it is for you to produce
proof. ’ ’
Coroner Berg locked cha
grined. He had never met just
this sort of a witness before, and
did not know quite how to treat
him.
And yet Landon was respect
ful, serious and polite. Indeed,
one might have found it hard
to say what was amiss in his at
titude, but none could deny there
was something. It was after all,
an aloofness, a separateness, that
seemed to disconnect this man
with the proceedings now going
on; and which was so, only be
cause the mau himself willed it.
Coroner Berg restlessly and
only lialf-consciously sensed this
state of things, and gropingly
strove to fasten on some facts.
Nor were these hard to find.
The facts were clear and start
ling enough, and were to a legal
mind conclusive. There was, so
far as known, no eye-witness to
the murder, but murderers do
not usually play to an audience.
“We have learned, Mr. Lan
don,” the coroner said, “that
you had an unsatisfactory inter
view with your uncle; that you
did not get from him the money
you desired. That, later, he was
killed in a locality where you
admit you were yourself. That
his dying words are reported to
;be, ‘Kane killed me! wilful mur
der.’ I ask you what you have
to say in refutation of the con
clusions we naturally draw from
these facts?”
there was a hush over (he
whole room, as the answer to tins
arraignment was breathlessly
awaited.
At last it came. Landon looked <0
the coroner squarely in the eye,
and said: “I have this to say.
That my uncle’s words,—if, in-'
deed, those were really his words,
might as well refer, as you as
sumed at first, to any one Use,
as to myself. The name Cain,
would, of course, mean in gen
eral way, any one of murderous
intent. The fact that rnv
name chances to be Kane is a
mere coincidence, and in no pease
a proof of my guilt.”
The speaker grew more em
phatic in voice and gesture as
he proceeded, and this did not
militate in his favor. Rather, his
k-ritation and vehement manner
prejudiced many against him.
Had he been cool and collected,
his declarations would have met
better belief, but his agitated
tone sounded like the last effort
in a lost cause.
With harrowing pertinacity,
the coroner quizzed and pumped
the witness as to his every move
of the day before. Landon was
forced to admit that he had
quarreled with his uncle, and
left him in a fit of temper, and
with a threat to get the money
elsewhere.
“And did you get it?” queried
-.lie coroner at this point.
“I did not:”
“Where did vou hope to get
it?”
“I refuse to tell you.”
“Mr. Landon, your manner is
' not in your favor. But that is
not an essential point. The
I charges I have enumerated are as
yet unanswered; and, moreover,
II am informed by one of my as
sistants that there is furth r . vi
dence against you. Kami a: om,
i come forward. ”
The stolid-looking Swede came.
“Look at Mr. Landoii," a.id
Berg; “do yon think yon saw
him in Van Cortland!-park yes
terday?”
“Ay tank Ay did.”
“Near the scene of the mur
der?”
‘•Ay tank so.”
“You lie!”
The voice that rang out' was
that of Fib.sy, the irrepr. s ibl.e.
And before the coroner could
| remonstrate, the boy was up be
| side the Swede, talking to him
in an earnest tone. “Clera
Sandstrom,” he said, “you are
saying what you have been toid
to say! Ain’t you?”
“Ay tank so,” returnecHhe im
perturable Swede. •
(To be continued next week.)
It is reported that various religiou* (
organisations throughout the coun
try have united in a campaign to forca
stricter observance of Sunday
through a constitutional
