Inn n ,'
M RECORD ON TlSCiin
AN ADVENTURE OF PETER CREWE " THE MAN ""j' J I
WITH THE CAMERA EYES" I I I
I By HAROLD CARTER j I I I
(Cojjjrlght.lSll.br W. 0. Chapman, In the United State and Great Britain)
' ' i hip et '
"ho case against Sanford certainly
ked black enough. Ho bad been
ested upon tbo cbargo of having
rdered his wife, and the evidence
ilnst him was as follows :
Us wife, a vaudeville actress, had
. him the preceding spring and had
used to return to him. The prln
nl causo for this separation ap
red to havo been hla Inability to
port her In comfort, so that she
ferred Independence, with tho cor
lty of a moderate Income through
own efforts, to the tlresomo.rou
3 of household duties In the home
a man earning a clerk's salary,
ring tho unseasonable months of
y and August she had earned a
illhood by posing for moving pic
3 plays. Sanford had repeatedly
ted her at her apartment to he
oh her to return to him. He had
n heard to utter threats in case
remained obdurate. On the occa
t of his last visit previous to the
;edy his wife had been heard to
sr him out of the house, and she
forbidden him to molest her fur-
ne week later, at nine o'clock In
morning, the maid who camo In
y to clean tho apartment found
i. Sanford lying dead in a chair
1 a deep stab wound immediately
eath the right arm. Death had
lently been almost Instantaneous,
there was no sign of a struggle,
the woman's face was as tranquil
hough she had flung herself down
n the cushions for n brief rest
r the labors of the day.
he chief witness against Sanford
the woman who rented the apart
it adjacent to Mrs. Sanford's. She
Ifted that she had met Sanford
i tho stairs on tho preceding ove
r, had seen him enter his wife's
tment, and subsequently heard
sounds of a violent altercation,
r which Sanford left the house in
ondltlon of Intense excitement
i hours or so later sho heard him
rn and ring Mrs. Sanford's boll,
heard voices raised in altercation
he apartment and heard Sanford
n leave, but In a stealthy and
etlve manner wholly unlike his
il method of departure. She heard
creep down tho stairs and list
1 at the wall, but could make out
urther sound next door. Doubtless
murder had already been accom
icd. le weapon with which tho murder
been committed was found in a
Iguous building lot next day. It
a Malay krlss, a knlfo with an
3dlbly keen edge, which Mrs. San
had owned, and the murder had
committed with an upward
st. Upon tho right side of the
f handle, when the blado was held
upward, wore the blood-prints of
gloved fingers.
hen called In for tho defense I
d Sanford to plead guilty to man
jhter. I told him there was every
on to hope that he would escape
a sentence of fifteen or twenty
3. In the first place, tho fact that
tad worn gloves, in the second
fact that the weapon had been
a from Mrs. Sanford's wall, where
d hung, clearly Indicated absence
premeditation; whllo tho Jury
d show every consideration to a
whoso wlfo had deserted him.
Sanford obstinately insisted that
as Innocent. Ho admitted that
md called on Mrs. Sanford the
lng before the tragedy to induco
o return to him. Sho had refused,
aid, and taunted him with tho
' of a rival for whose sake, she in
3d to obtain a divorce,
vas only half convinced, In spite
0 vehemence of Sanford's denial,
vo heard criminals assert their
'ence most convincingly, only to
their guilt after conviction.
,ve you any theory as to who
uurdorer was?" I asked,
he man she taunted mo about,"
Sanford. "He had been pester
kr for weeks to divorce mo and
y him, had threatened her with
1 unless sho consented. Sho pro
id to me that sho Intended to
ly; but I know In my heart that
ilways loved me. If I had only
;d more money sho would have
back to me. Do you think I
d have hung round her for
hs without some reasonable hopo?
you" she hated that fellow; she
tried to play teach of us off
st the other."
iford insisted that this man had
the second visitor on the night
le murder, and had slain Mrs.
ird In a Jealous rage when sho
y refused to marry him. Dut he
lever seen him and know nothing
s identity.
it was all I had to go upon. The
in in the apartment next to Mrs,
ird's admitted that she had not
Hy seen Sanford return on the
of the murder. She was con
d, however, that tho second vis
was he. She had no reason for
conviction, but she was all the
certain of It.
'&7 willing to bellevo that San
bad bad a rival for Mrs. San
i affections, and that he had fro
ly visited the woman. Probably
lad been holding off both men
Until she could decide to which one it
would prove more profitable to attach
herself. In fact, Mrs. Sanford had
had frequent visitors; sho was an at
tractive woman, and it was not hard
to believe that somo of them must
have fallen in lovo with her. But that
nny of these had murdered her
seemed quite unlikely. The particu
lar rival of whom Sanford spoke was
quite unknown to Mrs. Sanford's ac
quaintances; if such an one existed,
his Identity had been skilfully con
cealed. To discover him seemed an
impossibility. Thero was no letter,'
no shred of evidence, pointing to such
a man.
In my perplexity I turned to Crewe.
If anyone could help me run down this
mysterious suspect I knew this man
could. Ho had solved many a per
plexing problem for me through tho
aid of his wonderful visualizing pow
ers. No image that passed before tho
camera-llko eyes of Peter Crewe was
ever forgotten.
"Let us begin by assuming that
such a man exists," said Crowe, when
he had heard my story attentively.
"Are thero nny photographs of men in
Mrs. Sanford's apartment?"
Thero were dozens of photographs
of both men and women. In fact Mrs.
Sanford had had a hobby for collect
ing photographs of all her acquaint
ances. Tho npartment had been
sealed by the police, but, upon obtain
ing an order from tho authorities, wo
were enabled to enter. We found pho
tographs all round tho sitting room.
"If it is one of these," I said, "no
body knows which one."
"That is immaterial, so long as it Is
one of them," said Crewe, focussing
his eyes upon each in turn. Ho re
mained thus for several seconds in
front of each photograph, as though
some time were needed for the action
of the light to impress the images
Indelibly upon the retina.
"Now," said Crewe, "the probabili
ties are that sho met him in tho mov
ing picture company for which she
posed. Actresses and actors general
ly form a close corporation, and we
may almost take It for granted that
they belonged to the same trade. By
tho way, Langton, the photograph that
wo aro looking for is probably not
here."
"Not here?" I ejaculated.
"No," he said, pointing to the velvet
mantel cover. "Do you see anything
strange there? Surely you must, for
it is almost Impossible to keep a se
cret from velvet."
"I see some dust," I said.
"Look here and hero and here,"
said Crewe impatiently. "Do you seo
that faint line along tho nap of tho
velvet? That is where a photograph
stood for several weeks, but stands no
longer. Observe that thoro is an edg
ing of dust on either sldo of it. And
hero, and hero, these photographs be
side it once stood, but they were re
cently moved up about an inch and a
half closer. Langton, the murderer
undoubtedly took away his photo-'
graph and moved up the photographs
on either side in order to cover tho
gap left by tho removal. It was in
genious, and would havo baffled the
police. But velvet tells Its own tale,
and all the rubbing in the world
would not have erased those creases
in the nap. We are, then, bent upon
the search for a man whoso photo
graph is not hero Mrs. Sanford's
only friend whom we have not seen.
It simplifies matters enormously!"
"How?" I asked.
"In tho first place It bears out your
theory as to tho existence of such a
man, whom we have hitherto only as
sumed to exist. Secondly, we know
all Mrs. Sanford's friends but him.
Consequently, when wo seo him in the
moving pictures wo know him Instant
ly. But it is essential, in order to
verify certain suspicions that I enter
tain, that we should seo the knife."
"That can be done," I said. "It Is
In the custody of tho police, but I have
the right of inspection. Let us go
round to police headquarters imme
diately." No demur was made to our examin
ing the weapon, although a detective
romalned at hand while we looked at
It. It was a formidable affair, and one
which had evidently been put to use
by its Malay owner before it crossed
the seas to become the property of
the luckless actress. Its blade curled
In a succession of waves, and it was
as keen as the finest razor. Upon
tho right side, when held blade up
ward, appeared the bloody glovo
prints. "If them was only finger prints,
now," said tho detective, "we'd know
ho done It Instantly. Fingers is
never the same, but gloves baffles us."
"On tho contrary," said Crewe, "I
think we shall run the murderer to
earth with equal facility."
"You'vo got him, that's why," said
the detective, chuckling. "Gents, It's
as clean a case against tho accused
as we've handled this year."
"Not if he knows how to pitch
quoits," said Crowe, sharply. .
"What's that you say?" asked the
detective.
"I said, 'not If he knows bow to
pitch quoits,' " said Crewe. ' "Come,
Langton, this Is a very important
point. Wo must stop In at a sport
ing shop and got somo quoits. I sup
poso the prisoner will be allowed to
pitch them in tho prison yard?"
I was lost in amazement at this
now scheme of Crewe's, but I know
that it was useless to ask for an ex
planation until tho unfolding of tho
plot. Wo purchased a half dozen
quoits and took them to our prisoner;
to whom I introduced my companion.
Sanford was inclined to be sullen at
first, and demurred when requested
to pitch the quoits.
"Sanford," I whispered, "there's
more in this than you or I know. Don't
be obstinate. Mr. Crewe has got men
out of worse troubles, and apparently
by Just such aimless means."
"You can't hand him those things,
gentlemen," said tho Jailer, "without
a special order. I'm sorry, but that's
the strict rule."
"Well, then," said Crewe, "let me
seo you pitch them in imagination.
Now, here is the hoard. You have a
quoit in your hand. Now heavo it."
Sanford complied In a roluctant
manner. Though his action was not
very graphic, it evidently satisfied
Crewe.
"Excellent, Langton," ho comment
ed. "I have learned all that it was
necessary to know. And now we havo
to find Mrs. Sanford's friend whoso
photograph was removed from the
mantel."
"And that," I said, "is tho begin
ning of the whole difficulty. Wo seem
to be no nearer that than at the
first."
"If we can find the identity of the
man," said Crewe, "the rest will bo
easy. Now the probabilities aro
strongly in favor of his having acted
In the same company with her. In
such event we shall find him upon tho
screen at somo moving picture show."
"But," I Interpolated, "how will you
know it is the man? Will you suspect
every actor whose photograph was not
among Mrs. Sanford's effects? It
seems to me you aro stretching your
point very far. I confess I do not
know what your cluo is."
"Patience, Langton," said Crewe,
smiling. "If 1 wero to tell you I
should ceaso to be a mystery and be
come a very ordinary mortal in your
eyes. I confess that I enjoy the role
of enigma."
The company for which Mrs. San
ford had posed was at this time ad
vertising a new play dally. It con
trolled some three or four dozen mov
ing picture theaters in town, and as
tho plays grew stale they were sent
out into tho country districts. To
find the man we wero seeking, it
would therefore bo necessary to make
a careful and methodical Investigation
ot all the theaters which this com
pany controlled. Wo spent nearly a
week of nights in our search before
we found what we were looking for.
It was at a little cheap theater in a
slum that had grown up among a
maze of shops that catered to tho
needs of the residents in a new dis
trict ot high fiats and ostentatious, if
overblown, wealth. The play was a
typical southern drama. In a cell
crouched the negro, arrested upon a
charge of murder. Outside collected
tho mob, infuriated with liquor, thirst
ing for the prisoner's blood. With
ropes and pistols in their hands they
demanded that tho sheriff bring out
his prisoner.
Then the sheriff's daughter camo
out to persuade the crowd to abandon
its Intentions. As the girl tripped
forward across the screen Crewo and
I recognized Mrs. Sanford.
Awed for an instant, tho mob quick
ly regained its courage. It demanded
that tho sheriff come, out In person.
Among tho leaders of tho crowd I
recognized several of the originals of
Mrs. Sanford's photographs. Evident
ly Crewe's theory was correct that
sho selected her friends from among
her own profession.
Suddenly the Jail doors flew open
and the sheriff camo out In person.
Ho strode forward, .tall, scowling,
menacing. In ono hand he held a re
volver, and, as ho camo to a stop, ho
pointed this at tho breast of the mob
leader.
"There is our murderer," Crewo
whispered to mo, in the moment of
tense interest and silence that fol
lowed tho denouement.
Tho scene ended and a long-drawn
sigh went up from the audience in tho
little theater. Single-handed, tho sher
iff had defied the crowd; with his
menacing revolver he had driven them
from tho jail precincts. What next?
Tho interval was long and tantalizing,
and every shadowy profllo in the audi
ence seemed to disclose a mouth that
gaped for some sensational climax.
"That is our man," repeated Crewo
with suro conviction.
I was consciouf; cf a sensation of
rising anger. It angered me to bo
made the butt of his fantasies, to sit
beside him and hear him calmly an
nounce his conclusions while my mind
was striving painfully to pass from
ono inference to the next.
"Well, I "won't dispute your state
ment," I rejoined. "But even if it is
I see no reason why it should be, but
oven if it is how nro you going to
locate him? His photograph may bo
doings stunts on the screen while the
man in person is well on his way to
Alaska or South, America, or Tim
bucktoo." "They always como hack," said
Crewe.
"Why, the first instinct of any mur
derer is flight."
"Not in crimes of Jealousy," Crewe
answered. "And then thero Is tho
thrill of seeing an Innocent man ar
rested and likely to suffer tho ponalty
for the crime. No, no, Langton, our
friend is not very far from this city.
I should not be surprised to come
upon him any day, in, the court, tho
street. Besides, you must remember
that no photograph ot him exists; ho
thinks he is secure."
"And yet I'm willing to wager," said
I, "that, granting your theories aro
true, which I do not for the moment
admit, tho original of that sheriff is
not within a thousand miles of us at
this moment."
A new sceno was thrown upon the
screen. The gaping mouths opened
wider; the audience settled down for
its further installment of thrill. And
then I think my hair verily stood
upon end as if by somo magnetic
compulsion my eyes turned toward a
man seated upon the end bench im
mediately across tho aisle. There was
the original of the sheriff in the play,
seated with folded arms, but staring as
if hypnotized at that phantasm of him
self that strode and swore and played
tho hero by the side of his trembling
daughter, while tho mob menaced
them, yet impotent before tho revol
ver which ho held in the crook ot
his strong right arm.
I turned to Crowe. I caught his
arm. "Look! Look!" I whispered,
pointing.
For once my companion appeared
to lose his self-possession. His eyes
shifted alternately from the play-actor
upon the screen to the man on the,
bench and back again.
"Langton," he said, "for once you
get tho better ot me. Fool that I was,
I was so absorbed in theorizing that
I didn't look. ,1 didn't dare to hopo it
might be true. Watch him and, when
tho act ends, wo will take seats on
either side of him. You sit on his
left and keep your eyes on his hand
his left hand."
We took our places accordingly as
soon as the moving figures faded from
the screen. Tho man never stirred as
we sat down beside him. His gaze
was fixed singly upon the screen, and
he waited for tho final act of tho
drama. All round us rose tho excited
hum of voices. Crewe touched our
man upon tho arm, and he started in
his placo and leaned toward him
nervously.
"Keep quiet," said Crewo In a warn
ing voice. "After this act I want you'
to come with me nnd explain about
the murder of Mrs. Sanford."
Quick as a flash tho man's left hand
went down toward his hip pocket I
caught It and compressed it firmly be
tween my own.
"Well done, Langton," said Crowo
in a whisper. "Now, sir, will you come
quietly?" -
A shiver ran through our captive's
frame. He turned his eyes from ono
to another of us. Then ho seemed to
break down and he collapsed In his
seat limply.
"I killed her." he muttered. "Do
what you like with me. I meant to
give myself up anyway. Every day I
havo haunted the district, hoping that
I might bo arrested, intending to con
fess, but I hadn't the nerve, I am
glad It's over."
"Will you come now?" said Crewe,
"Let me seo the last act," ho plead
ed. "My God, you don't know what It
means to realize that I shall never see
her face again In life, except upon
that screen. I've come hero nightly to
look at hor. Let me watt till the end."
"On one condition," said Crewe.
"Langton, take the pistol out of his
left hip pocket."
"What I still fall to understand,"
I said to Crewo, "Is how you came to
associate this man with tho murder.
Even If hla photograph wore not
among Mrs. Sanford's effects, stil
thero must have been many ot her ac
quaintances who were similarly ab
sent. To mo It all seems like a happy
guess."
"The only guess," said Crewe, "was
In tho assumption that tho murderer
had been an actor In the same com
pany. And that was rather a prob
ability than a fortunate hypothesis."
"But what enabled you to feel so
suro that you were able to charge tho
man directly with the commission of
the crime?"
"Let us go back a way," Crewo an
swered. "Tho wound, if you remem
ber, wa3 immediately beneath the
woman's right arm. The murder had
been committed whllo sho lay back in
her chair."
"Yes."
"Did It occur to you that the mur
derer must have stood In a very
cramped position to Inflict tho wound
in such a location? And that It would
bo almost impossible to drive homo
tho steel forcibly enough to cause im
mediate death?"
"I confess that It did not. The evl
denco against Sanford seemed so con
vincing." "When you saw the knife, did you
deduce anything from tho fact that
the finger-prints wero on the right side
,ot tho blade?"
"Where else would they be?"
"Take out your pocket-knife Open
WHEN TO ANSWER A LETTER
Considering Them as a Part of a
Written Conversation the Pres
ent Time Is the Best.
When is tho best tlmo to answer a
letter? Considering a letter as part
of a written conversation, the best
tlmo to answer it is on the day when
it Is received. Evejy one knows that
the enthusiasm, sparkle and spontan
eity which makes correspondence de
lightful depend altogether on the
mood in which ono handles the pen.
On tho first reading of a letter the
writer seoms to bo almost in the room
and the words on tho page have the
cadence and reality of the 'spoken
voice Put the letter aside for throe
or four weeks and the effort of reply
is -evident The effervescence la
brushed from the draught and what
was originally cordial and tonic is
flat and Insipid. The best time to
answer a letter is the present time,
yet I heard a young girl complain not
long ago that sho could never keep
out of debt to her friends. "They al
ways answer by return mall, and I am
as badly oft as ever," sho asserted
with a sigh.
Home news never falls to satisfy
the child away from homo. Father
and mother at homo watch and wait
for letters from the absent children.
Homo letters and business letters
should be answered at the earliest
moment. As for those of compara
tively slight Importance, such as let
ters that are merely written to keep
up an acquaintance, one may use her
discretion. Bread and butter letters
obligatory after a visit should be sent
within a few days of a guest's return
home. Exchange
Strange Place for Birds' Nest.
When a Birmingham to Yarmouth,
England, express was examined at
Bourne, Lincolnshire, the other day,
a blackbird's nest with four young
birds was found underneath ono of
the carriages.
it. Hold It edgo upward. So. Now
on which side are the finger prints?"
"On tho left side," I said, much,
chagrined.
"Thten the Inference is?"
"That the murderer was left-hand'
ed."
"Exactly; and this accounts for the
position of the wound. If he held the
weapon In his left hand the blow
would fall most naturally where It
did. Many people, Langton, are partly
left-handed; that is to say, having
been trained to the use of tho right
hand, they revert to their natural In
stinct In moments of excitement. Our
murderer was doubtless ono of this
large class; therefore it is not neces
sary to suppose that ho used his left
hand habitually, in which event ho
would have left traces that would
havo aroused the attention even of the
stupid police. Well, then, when I
went to the moving picture show I was
looking for an unknown man with a
left-handed Instinct Did you notice
nothing in that sceno with the mob?"
"Ho held his pistol in his left
hand!" I exclaimed.
"Yes. But you saw It and let it
slip through the gates of memory."
"One more question? Why tho
quoits?"
"Merely to ascertain beyond a doubt
that our friend Sanford was not left
handed himself," said Crewe.
ONE DEFINITION OF LAUGHTER
Explanation of an American Humor
ist Many Persons In History
Who Never Laughed.
What Is laughter? An American
humorist has called It "an undignified
widening of the human mouth, accom
panied by a noise resembling a cough
In tho effort to avoid swallowing a
chestnut"
"Laughtor," says Prof. Sir Charles
Bell, "is a convulsive action of the
diaphragm. In this state the person
draws a full breath and throws it
out In Interrupted, short and audiblo
cachlnnatlons. This convulsion of
tho diaphragm Is the principal part
of tho physical manifestation of laugh
ter. "But there are several accessories,
especially the sharp vocal utterance
arising from the violent tension of
'the larynx and the expression ot the
features, this being a more Intense
form of the smile. In extreme cases
tho eyes are moistened by the eftbslon
from the lachrymal glands."
There are some people who cannot
laugh who are wholly unable to en
Joy either the physical or the mental
luxury of a laugh. Thus, It was said
of William III. that he was utterly at
a loss to understand what could be got
out of laughter except loss ot dignity.
There are many persons In history
who have beenaccordlng to common
report, Incapable of laughter. Queen
Mary I., John Knox', Robespierre and
Moltke are examples. The great Duka
of Wellington himself rarely, If ever,
went beyond a grunt.
Served Him Right.
"I have made all sorts of sacrifices
for you," complained tho husband,
driven to the wall at last "What
did you ever give up for mo?",!'What
did I ever give up for you?" repeated
the exasperated wife, "Well, I never!
Why, you cheap humbug, I gave ufr
three or four ot the nicest young' men
la this city that's what,"