University of South Carolina Libraries
" " ; ISSUED SEMX-WEEKL^^ l. m. GRIST & SONS, Pnbii.hers. j % .Jfamilg Jleirspaper: 4or_ ,lie f romotion if (he political, Social, Agricultural, and Commercial gnosis if the ?outft. ESTABLISHED 1855. YORKYILLE, S. C., WEDNESDAY, MARCH 15, 1899. !N"0. 21. GLASS 3 By WETHER] Copyright, 1899, by Weatherley Chesne; Synopsis of Previous Installment In orderthat new readers of The E: quirer may begin with the following ii stallmentof this story, and Understand just the same as though they had read all from the beginning, we here give ? At-4. 11? -r 11 ?u:~w u. synopsis OI max ponum ui lb V* 11 it; 11 UI already been published: Commander Duncan Brett, R. N., ha' ine been accepted by Mabel Fenton, c bis way home finds her brother Georj bending over the dead body of a womai In her band is the broken ofi hilt of. glass dagger?a curio which has hung i George's room?the blade buried in tt woman's heart. A man, Fitzgerald, ei deavors to take possession of the woman jewelry. Brett interferes, whereupon tl man denounces him to the police as tl murderer, and he is marched to the sti tion. Brett proves his innocence and discharged. George Fenton endeavors I escape, but after a long flight is a last a rested, charged with the murder of Harr et Staples, a woman to whom he has lor been known to be attached. Mabel Fei ton has faith in her brother's innocenc She tells Brett that if George is guilty si will never marry him, being the sister < a murderer. Mr. Keigbley Gates is hear talking about the glass dagger. Brett r< solves to establish George's innocenc< George describes the murder of Harri< Staples as he witnessed it. She refused 1 marry him. He turned from her, bear her fall and saw a man running away, tt dagger being in her breast. Brett gel Harriet Staples' photograph and discot ers that it is the likeness of Lady Florenc Mostyn, daughter of the Duke of Lundj CHAPTER VIL AT THE DUKE OP LUNDY'S. I never paid away ?50 in my lif with creator rileasnre than I did to Ml Rogers. I was overjoyed at the succee of my plan, and I felt that now, at an rate, we bad advanced one step towar< the solution of the awful mystery. The announcement of the identity c the murdered Harriet Staples with th missing daughter of the Duke of Lund; increased a thousandfold the interest c the public, for the case was now trani planted to aristocratio regions and sui rounded with a halo of romance, an when it was further known tuat th discovery was the result of the missin letter competition the excitement wa rendered still more universal. For the moment 1 was puzzled t know how it was I bad not noticed th photograph of Lady Florence Mostyn ii the albums at Scotland Yard; for 1 die tinctly remembered seeing her mention ed. I returned there to make inquiries and to my great surprise found an altc gether impossible photograph over he nama No wonder nothing .had com from my search. The officials to whor I pointed this out were considerably in terested, and the Duke of Luudy wa written to on the subject. He replie that the photograph in the album wa not the one he had sgnt when his daogh on/1 m n o ftn ft 1 n loftf trci uioappcaiuu auu nao uuo, iu *av? that be never remembered to have eeei before. 80 here was a further mystery (and the eventual solution of it turne* out to be of great consequence to us ii our quest * It was now of the greatest momen to learn something more of the histor of the unfortunate lady about whos life so much terrible mystery had hung aud I hastened to put myself into com munication with tho Duke of Lundy. His grace was a very peculiar man? a man one instinotively felt it impossi ble to like, and yet a person whom i would be equally impossible not to re ^pect. He was a patrician to the back bone?faultlessly courteous, but icil; cold. The death of bis daughter inus bave affected\im terribly, but he pre aented au untroubled demeanor to th world, for had she not been dead to bin for years? I had one short interviev with him, in which he expressed regre at his inability to furnish me with an; details of her life that would be of serv ice tome. She had left bis roof witbou a word of warning, and he was absolute ly ignorant of her life from that day. It was evident I should have to loo! to other quarters for assistance, aud fo once in a way Dame Fortune favore me. I found out that Henry Wray, an ol schoolfellow of mine, was the rector c Lamford ? the parish in which tb duke's seat of Glenmore was situated and to him I at once went. He ha known Lady Florence Mostyn for som years previous to her disappearauct and he told me all he thought would b of use to me The girl?for she was or ly 20 when she left her father's roofwas of a happy disposition, and she wj a general favorite. She was equally t home in parish work, in the huntin field and in the ballroom. She was at complished and she was distinctly hanc some. As might be well imagined, sb had many suitors, but she turned a dec ear to all until a certain Mr. Arthc Durant made bis appearance, and o this man, in many respects the leas suitable of her admirers, she did nc look askance. There was some mystery about th: Durant. He was a colonial, had mad bis money in a store?be did not concet that?and he had returned to spend ii Had he been a rich Lancashire cotto man, or an ironmaster of native growtl it might have been difficult for him t have obtained the entree to the circle i which Lady Florence Mostyn inovet But to the rich American or colonii most things are possible. He had hire a hunting box for the season, and, thanl to his splendid horseflesh, his own pr< sentable appearance, unstinted liberaIit and genial disposition, he was soo moving on equal terms with the men b met in the field. He did not seem t care for society, and this made his socif advancement all the easier. He wt soon invited everywhere. Some iuviti tionB he accepted and some he refusec and among the former were those of tb Duke of Lundy. LEY CHESNEY. yg From the very first he had evinced a liking for Lady Florence, bnt thongb be N~ was never more animated or showed a" himself to greater advantage than when !f in her society, yet he did not obtrade ^ bis presence upon ber. JNay, ne even ^ seemed to avoid ber. Had be done tbis deliberately, and with set purpose, he f_ could not have played his cards better, >n 'or she was just the woman to appreci?e ate eelf mortification on ber acoonnt. I Q- gathered that she eventually let him see Ip that she did not wish him to keep aloof, ie and that be was only too happy to pur] sue his advantage. 's The man was in love with her?that ie was understandable enough. But it was i- not quite so easy to see why she cared *s (or him, as she undoubtedly did, for he ? was by no means as well bred or even j. as good looking as the majority of the g men of her own set. But it may be that '* the unconventionality oaused by the ^ rough and tumble life he had led was more attraotive to her than the out and d dried forms she had hitherto met with. 3" At any rate Durant was soon established as Lady Florence's attendant cavalier, a and whether in the hunting field or the d drawing room be sought her side and remained there with a look of quiet, r. unassuming proprietorship. :e It is not oertain that Durant proposed to Lady Florence, but it is certain that he asked the duke for permission to do so?permission that was peremptorily refused by that personage, who on that Q particular occasion came as near to los, ing his temper as ever he did in his life. ** ? ?j | JJurant was do iung?r ns&cu iu uwumore, and Lady Florence's freedom was ^ henceforward distinctly curtailed. ' Then Ehe vanished, absolutely and completely, leaving no trace behind, 0 and she had never been heard of again by her family or her friends until her J identification as the victim of the South Audley street murder. I ,] "And what about Durant?" I asked. ^ my friend. e "Ob, Durantl He staid his lease out g He seemed much cut up at Lady Flora ence's disappearance and went out very little afterward. 1 did hear he 0 took to drinking heavily. He went 0 away at tbe beginning of March. I rea member the date particularly, for tbe great robbery at GJenmore took place just before, and Durant's own place ^ was broken into as well." "And what happened to him after he r left the district?" 0 "Can't say. He disappeared entirely Q from our ken. Some 6ay he returned to . Australia and others that he went to a the bad. Anyway, he was never seen a again in our country." g "Have you any theory of your own about Lady Florence's disappearance?" The rector hesitated, and then said: 0 "Well, to tell you the truth, I have, 1 but it seems so unsupported by evidence j that it is nothing but a theory, and a seemingly a farfetched one, yet I have never been able to shake off my belief 1 in it. My idea is that Durant was in ' y some way implicated in her disappear0 ance." ; "In what way?" 1 ' "There you have me. I can't say. I I have not the slightest tangible evidence 1 for my suspicion, but I am firmly con a xt - i. i*_ 1 vinced iu my own mina mac n Mr. j Arthur Durant is alive he ooold tell ' you a great deal more ahout that mystery than we now know." 1 was somewhat disconcerted to hear ^ this. I had traced one person, only to tind that another wag indispensable, and the search for the second was probably 8 beset with the greater difficulties of the < a two t With this rather discouraging infor- 1 ? mation I returned to town. I made it , _ my first bur:1jaess to engage a private de- ^ t tective to trace Mr. Arthur Durant, but j h from the little knowledge we had of ( that gentleman, and the absolute igno- j k ranee we were in as to his present where- ( r aVuts, 1 had little hope that we should j (j gain any information likely to be useful on the fa6t approaching day of the d triaL I lf CHAPTER VIII. 6 MR. KEIQHLKY QATKS SPEAKS OF DURANT. ' ~ I was now at a complete standstill in 1 my investigations, and in sober truth 1 1 0 did not know which way to move next. ' Something, however, had to be done, 1 10 and that at once. '* In my despair I went again through the evidence that was. brought against 10 George at the police court trial and ran 11 over the witnesses who would appear ' 8 for the crown, and for the hundredth time I tried to find some flaw in the chain of damning evidence that would be adduced. Suddenly a thought struck te "My name is Brett?Duncan Brett." o me. This man, Keighley Gates, owing il to whose casual talk at the Hotel Metrois pole suspicion had fallen upon George, ? surely ho might be of use to us. I had 1, heard of the man, but bad not met him. 10 He was a great traveler, I remembered. Might he not have run up against Du rant in his wanderings? Even if be bad not met bim be might bave beard of bim, or, at any rate, be able to give na some clew in onr search. There was jnsi tbe odd chance that be might be ablo to help ns, and I oonld not afford to disregard it. _ . It appeared that Mr. GateB lived af the Metropole, and as sood as I obtained this information I went there in qnest of him. As lack had it, Mr. Gates was in the hotel when I called, and I was shown up to his room. As Mr. Gates was not a permanent resident there I was somewhat struck with the luxurious way in which his sitting room was furnished. There was a total absence of the usual hotel furniture, and in its place was a variety of articles that bespoke the catholio taete of the owner. There were easy chairs and lounges, covered with eastern rugs and silks and curtains of soft Indian texture. On the walls was a display of ourjous and fantastic weapons?Damascus swords, Moorish daggers and a genuine Andrea Ferrara. There were a few etchings, and on the mantelpiece a number of photographs, while on vari- , ous cabinets was arranged a goodly show of Bohemian and Viennese glaee." My ' eyes took all this in as I entered, but my ; chief attention was, of course, centered in Mr. Gates himself. He was a thin, wiry man of middle height, and one's first imriression of him was of an eye glass and a row of;yellow jagged teeth. A second later one noted that he had a pair of keen, piercing eyes and thin? very thin?lips. Foj the rest he was ' square jawed and dlean shaven. His hair was becoming scanty over his brow, and his nose was slightly colored. Mr Gates was writing when the waiter announced me. The keen eyes , looked inquiringly?1 had almost Baid distrustfully?at me. The waiter had bungled my name, so I hastened to explain who I was. "My name is Brett?Duncan Brett. Yon may possibly remember my name ' in connection with poor Feuton'e case." " Yes, Captain Brett," he said slowly. "I remember your name. Pray take a ohair. This one, I think, is passably ] comfortable. Will you have a cigarette? I can recommend these. I import them myself from Alexandria." Mr. Gates carefully closed up his ( writing case and seated himself negligently in an easy cbuir opposite me. "And how is George bearing up?" he j went on "It is a terrible position for him to be placed in That unlucky | speech of mine has caused me endless ; regret. But how could I know what ; was go ng to occur?" "Oh, quite so. I don't see that any blame attaches to yon, Mr. Gates. In the very worst case you only accelerated events, as George's arrest would inevitably have followed. He is bearing np as well as we could expect, but, of course, be feels his position acutely, and at the present moment things look very black against him. I hope that if you can help us at all in the defense you will do so." "If lean be of the slightest use, you may be certain of my services," he replied. "But I am afraid 1 don't see in what way I shall be able to assist you." "Well, I will tell you, Mr. Gates. You see we are firmly convinced of George's innocence, but perhaps 1 ought first to tell you 1 am engaged to his sister, which will account for the interest I am taking in the oase." "I believe I heard that," Gates replied. "Very well. We are, as I was saying, firmly oonvinced of our friend'a innocence, although the facts look very black. A few days ago I should have laid the defense was hopeless, but since the identification of the murdered woman as the Duke of Lundy's daughter? of which, of course, you have heard?I think there is a glimmer of daylight for as." " Well,.Captain Brett, 1 am listening," said Gates, as I made a pause. "I will be absolutely frank with you, Mr. Gates," I continued, "fori think you may be able to help us, sinoe you have traveled a great deal and have consequently rubbed up against innumer- \ able people in all quarters of the globe. We are at present trying to trace Lady ( Florence Mostyn's life from the day she \ left her father's house, and it bae been j uggested that one individual in partiou- , lar might shed a light on her mysterious , disappearance, if we could only find | him." i "And who may he be?" "A certain Arthur Durant Do you 1 happen to know him, sir?" Mr. Keighley Gates deftly ejected j half a dozen rings of cigarette smoke f ind then looked at me with a carious : smile on his lips. j "Well, yes, I do," he replied. "At \ ane time I knew him intimately, but I have not seen him for the last two or < three years. Still I get an occasional : letter from bira." ] I was overjoyed at this news. What a lucky inspiration it was that had , prompted me to look up Mr. Gates! , "Have you had a letter recently?" I j inquired. | "The last one would be about?let \ me see"?and Mr. Gates pondered for M a moment or two. "Yes, about four 1 months ago, as near as my memory , serves me." ] "And whore was he then?" , "He wroto from Denver, and said he was just moving on to Salt Lake City j and from there he intended going to j Frisco." "Then at this moment San Francisco 1 might be a likely spot to make inquiries 1 In?" : (iates iaugnea. "It certainly might be, but if yon i knew Arthnr Dnraut you would know the utter impossibility of following bis movements by nuy known or unknown method. As be mentioned Frisco, I should think New York or Florida a likely spot to find him in." I This news considerably depressed me. So much seemed to depend upon this man, and yet from Gates' account it was apparently hopeless to expect that i be could be found in time. "What would you advise us to do, Mr. Gates?" "Make inquiries by all moans in Salt Lake City and. Frisoo_,_but don't build any hopes in that direction. I ought to have a letter from him soon, and that will pnt ns on his track at once. I think I have his last epistle by me still. If so, the address will be useful. I'll look for it now." Gates nnlocked a drawer and looked hrnnch unmfl letters filed with extreme care. "I'm afraid I destroyed it," he said, at length. "I now remember what I kept it for, and as soon as the purpose was fulfilled I burned it. I never keep old letters; it would not fit in with my wandering life." This was disheartening. However, 1 determined to find out something about the man I wanted. "You say you knew him intimately, Mr. Gates?" "Yes, I did?that is, if living for three months on end with him gives me the right to do so. I first met Arthur Durant in the Alleghany mountains in North Carolina. He had gone up there to inspeot some mica mineB, and I was there to look at some gem deposits. We both foregathered at a little three roomed wooden house, whio? was more drinking shanty than hotel, and as the mica and gems were in adjacent strata we did much of our work together. It was a longish job, because the stuff we were after was undoubtedly there, and what we had to decide was whether the quantities would prfy for working, and ao three months of daily intercourse bad passed before we could arrive at our decision. Yon can get to know a man very well in that time. "Then I saw nothing of him until I ran up against him in the Strand about three years ago. He seemed to be in lover at that time. He told me be had made his pile and was then engaged in spending it. He bad juet taken a bunta cnnrfino Pfinnf.V. Rlld he lug UUA 1U M K^V*VIM|) ?v , afiked me to stay with him. 1 intended doing so, bnt never lonnd the time. I saw him again after he had given it up. He talked of traveling, bnt had no definite plans. Then I heard from him in Matabeleland and Sonth Africa generally. He writes to me three or four times in the twelvemonth, and the last letter I had from him wae, as I said, from Denver, about four months ago." "When he was in the country, Mr; Gates, he paid marked attentions to Lady Florence Mostyn, and, I believe, asked the Duke of Lundy for his daughter's hand. The duke refused it, and soon afterward Lady Florence disappeared. From your knowledge of the man, do you think it probable that Durant was conoerned in that? Do you think he persuaded the lady to run away with him, in fact?" Mr. Gates lay baok in his ohalr and reflected a few minutes before replying. Then he said slowly: "It is a difficult thing to be certain of any man's oonduot where a woman is concerned, Oaptain Brett I have known men who had always been the very soul of honor throw up all their traditions and come a cropper when the pettiooat appeared. I wouldn't stake my life on any man's line of action then, but my firm belief is that if Durant could not have got the lady straight and aboveboard he would have left her. He is not the man to do anything dirty or underhand. No, sir," and Gates rose and stood over me, looking me straight in the face, "no, sir. Arthur Durant is not a man of that sort. He is straight as a die, and I would trust him as I trust myself." "He certainly has a very good friend In you, Mr. Gates," I remarked, for Gates' defense of bis absent friend had somewhat surprised me. I had oertainly uot given himoredit of being capable of so muoh chivalrous feeling for anybody. Gates did not reply, but went on: "And Durant could hardly be the man you want, since he left the country so soon after the lady's disappearance. Be must have been an ardent lover, whoever persuaded her to take the step, and would soaroely have tired of her so soon." "There is oertainly something in that," I remarked. . "But there-would be no barm done in trying to tthd where Durant is," continued Mr. Gates. "I have friends both in Salt Lake City and in Frisco, and 3an either write to them to make in:jniries#or give yon'letters of introduction to them if you prefer to do so yourself. " "You are extremelykiDd," I replied, "and I cannot thank you enough for four offer and the information you have given me. If you would be good enough to write to your friends yourself on the matter, I shall be much indebted to you. [ simply want to be put in communication with Mr. Durant." "I understand perfectly," said Mr. Gates, "and I will write by the next mail and ask for a cable if uuranc is found." I thanked him warmly for his good offices and rose to go. And now notioe on what trivial things onr lives are made to hinge. I had been rather strnck by some of the weapons displayed on the walls, and as I walked toward the door made some remark abont them. Gates seemed pleased to show his cnrios and gave me some interesting particulars abont them. I was standing by the drawer which Gates had opened to find Dnrant's letter. It had jammed when be tried to close it and he had left it half open. In the corner nearest me I happened to notice a photograph on the top of .some papers. It struck my eye quite casually,and somehow it awakened recolleotions in my mind. I glanced at it again while my host was talking and showing the weapons. It was the pioture of a woman, and I was certain I had seen it before, but for the life of me I could not remember when or where, and all the time I was talking and listening to Gates my mind was groping for a clew, bat I ooald not find one. At last I bade my host adieu and left him. I was very well satisfied with my afternoon's work, for I felt sure that Durant would be able to help us and wishful to do so, since he had undoubtedly been in love with Lady Florence. I was thinking of this while I was making mj wuy out of the hotel.. I had just gUTnetT raff"pavemenf outside when snddenly it flashed across me why the photograph in Mr. Keighley Gates' drawer had attracted my attention. I had seen that photograph before, and it was then in the Scotland Yard albnm, over the name of Lady Florenoe Mostyn! What did this mean? Who conld this other woman be? Who had pnt her photograph in the Scotland Yard albnm? And for what purpose had it been done? There was something very mysterious here. TO BE CONTINUED. gUtswlIanemts! Reading. PENITENTIARY INVESTIGATION. 8ap?rint?ndeut Neal Admit* Shortage to the Amount of Over SIO.OOO. From the Greenville News. The penitentiary investigation, on Thursday, developed material evidence. J. Belton Watson swore that on March 2,1896, be signed a contract with the penitentiary for 30 convicts. On the same day he contracted with W. A. Neal for the restoration of his plantation for $14,000, to be pajd for in $2,000 installments, with interest. Neal and Watson had a private contract that the convicts were to be paid for and used entirely by Neal. The state has not received any pay whatever for convicts under '96, '97 and '98, although the '96 and '97 accounts are credited as being paid. They were really paid with notes discounted by the endorsement of W. A. Neal, superintendent. The notes were made by the two Ragsdales, foremen of the farms, and were discounted without any knowledge or consent of the penitentiary management. The notes average $2,000 each. T- - mo . t_ T17? 1 ae no acuuuui ia upcu, natouu says be made the labor contract with full assurances that Neal would make the settlements and believed that be had done so. In 1896 Neal being sick, Watson sold the crop, and after taking out bis annual payment got a receipt frpm Neal for $1,465 which-was supposed to go to settle the convict hire. It was never so used. There is a good deal on these lines. J. J. Fretwell sent a receipt for $350 for oats, paid last April, which money the penitentiary has not received. Contractor Fowler showed a draft for $500 made on him by Neal, which was paid, and the penitentiary has received none of this. W. Q. Hammond paid his account for $856 by a ten day draft, which was paid. Hammond's $800 and Fowler's $500 were deposited on the same day. Eight hundred and twelve dollars of this was credited to the two accounts at the penitentiary and $539 to Colonel Neal's personal account. At the afternoon session Colonel Neal said that when he left Anderson he owed Watson $6,000 on installments and tried to pay it back. Ragsdale, the farm foreman, became dissatisfied and the contract by which be again assumed charge of the farm was to pacify Ragsdale. He, Neal, said that he owed the penitentiary for the three years' convict labor. He said that he had made Watson 10 payments or about $6,000 on the $14,000 debt, and that the only reason be had not paid anything on the convict account was that the farm had not made it; but that he was still liable to Watson for the convict here, and Watson to the state under bis contract. Tba Ragsdales whose notes were discounted with his endorsement as superintendent, to pay the accounts on the penitentiary books, had no responsibility. The $1,400 receipt, be said, was for money he paid out in Anderson for farm expenses and he mildly intimated that be did not know how it was signed A. Neal, superintendent, but he did not deny it. Before taking a recess the one other item touched upon was the Fowler draft for $500 which was paid in 1895. He said that he received this money and had placed it to his personal account and used it for expenses. He had periodical settlements with the penitentiary as to these items of expense, traveling and otherwise; but that he had had uo settlement since this payment was made, therefore, there was no record or credit of this on the penitentiary books. FRIDAY'S PROCEEDINGS. A number of witnesses were examined in the penitentiary investigation today. Colohel Neal was re-examined. Referring to the collection of $500 from Hammond in 1895, be said that be kept the money and did not turn it over to the penitentiary. Mr. Fowler also paid $500, which be deposited to bis own account when the settlement was made. Mr. Burriss's statement was substantially correct as to the amount the witness owed to the state. He proposed to settle it with the board in December last but he was sick. He proposed to settle it and to pay every single nickel and not call on bis bondsmen for a cent. Mr.,Burriss's statement was conscientious and correct. The state will be protected and shan't loose a nickle. "I haven't got the money," he said ; "but with the assistance of my friends it will all be paid. The Russell note will also be paid." Colonel Neal said be didn't turn over the $1,000 received from Fowler and Hammond because he didn't know but that the penitentiary was due him. It was true he had used some of it personally ; but he intended to fix it in the settlement. A receipt was produced for traveling expenses from August, 1895, to January, 1896, amounting $161. As to why he did not account for the $1,000, he said that was because he hoped to be able to return it; but was not able at that time to do so. He kept a memorandum, but the amounts were not credited on the books of the penitentiary. In reply to Mr. Patton he said that if he had died, in the meantime, the state would have lost if bis bondsmen could not pay. Again, in answer to Mr. Patton, be said that he now thought that his conduct was not right from an ethical standpoint. About three or four hundred dollars a year was his ordinary traveling expenses. Referring to a payment of $500 by Cooley and Fowler, of which the peniteutiary got $256, he said he had got $244. On the same day $856.16 was collected from Hammond. Of this be kept $300, and turned the rest over to the penitentiary. He used it for his private purposes. In Mr. Watson's papers's there was a note for $800 endorsed by Colonel Neal as superintendent. Mr. Watson said it was made by him to pay Mr. Brazeale. Colonel Neal said that he did not remember about this; but his signature was to the note. He could not remember whether the penitentiary ever bad anything to do with the note. He endosed notes as superintendent to benefit the penitentiary. He would not say that Mr. Watson's statement was false. He simply did not remember whether it was a personal matter or not. Referring to 20 cows bought from Ragsdale for $500, he said that Ragsdale had bought them all over the county. Possibly two cows came from bis own farm. The cows were bought to supply the institution with milk. More cows were bought from Ragsdale. J The Neal plantation got a profit of about $2 a bead. Up to Friday afternoon, the specific claims developed against Colonel Neal were as follows: 1. Money collected on labor contract Cooley and Fowler, December 19th, 1895, $500. 2. Money collected from W. Q. Hammond, November 25, 1895, $500. 3. B. B. Ragsdale's note for labor used by Neal on his farms in 1897, $2,595.99. 4. C. W. Ragsdale's similar note for labor used by Neal on his place in 1890, *Z,U1Z.*/. 5. Convict hire for 1898 for labor used by Neal, $2,800. 6. W. W. Russell's note, endorsed by Neal as superintendent, and for which the bank holds the state liable, $600. 7. To balance of $1,352.22 collected of Cooley & Fowler and J. A. Hammond, February 24, 1897, deposited to personal credit of Colonel Neal and reported for credit, $539.95. 8. Cash received of J. J. Fretwell for oats and not accounted for, $387.11. 9. Check given by Colonel Neal to balance Watson's account for 1897 and still unpaid and carried as cash, $172. Total, $10,107.56. The convict contract is between Neal and Watson. Watson claims that he has receipts and that be settled for '96 and '97 and the penitentiary books show payments on the face. The banks bold the notes. CHARLESTON MURDER MYSTERY. Powen of the Grand Jury Are Compared With Those of the Coroner's Jury. There is a feeling on the part of the public that the investigation of the Pinckney murder mystery has not been as thorough as it might have been. This feeling may or may not be warranted ; but there seems to be at the bottom of the matter some things which give rise for such a belief. Judge Klugh evidently thinks that there is a possibility of such a thing. He has not said so ; but the idea is suggested as having been the possible occasion of some remarks that he made to the Charleston grand jury last Friday. Of course, if the coroner's jury has not done its duty, there is no guaran* * -t-- J i ?ill lee mat me grauu jury win eitucr. If there are behind the mystery influences that are powerful enough to nullify the oaths of the members of the coroner's jury, then the members of the grand jury may be expected to keep their eyes closed also. Of course, it is not at all certain that the coroner's jury has not done its full duty, and what Judge Klugh has said is not to be taken as a reflection on that body. His honor's remarks, however, which are as follows, are quite significant: "You are doubtless aware of the catastrophe that lately occurred in your city just upon the eve of the opening of this court?one which seems to be veiled in mystery, one unfortunately of a long series of incidents of that character that seems hardly possible for the efforts put forth to arrive at the truth. That matter is still under investigation in the proper tribune, to which the law in the first instance submits it. Yet the .course of that investigation followed from day to day shows that there is prevailing in this community a degree of lawlessness that menaces the safety of your citizens. "Now, Mr. Foreman aud gentlemeu, I do not instruct you at this time to maUa onu invuatiuriitirtn into that mat UJUO.V ?uj .-wv.0 ter; but only mention it as an illustration of the powers and duties of a grand jury. In cuse that mystery is cleared up by the tribune which now has it under investigations, then the grand jury will not have that duty to perform ; but in case the result of their investigation should leave the matter as it now appears to be, enveloped in mystery, and they acknowledge that their powers have not availed to ascertain the truth, then it would be emiuently proper, and within the scope and sphere of your sworn duties, that this grand jury should take some notice of this affair and that you, either by committee or as a whole, should make such investigation as might lead to the unraveling of the mystery. "The coroner's jury have limited powers; they have wide powers in the investigation of the facts of any particular case, and yet they have not the same powers that the grand jary would have. Your investigations are conducted behiod closed doors, and until you have completed an investigation no one is supposed to know what the develppments from the investigation are, nor what the result is. And it might be that the secrecy which is observed in investigations by a grand jury would lead to a disclosing of facts by persons who are in possession of facts ?and there must be somebody tbat knows something about that matter? which the coroner's jury, with its daily | proceedings conducted in public, might not oe aDie 10 encit, ana so, ir it oecomes necessary for the grand jury to take any action in that matter, I com* mend the affair to your most careful inquiry and searching investigation. It has been said through the public prints that there is no fund for the employment of other assistance than that afforded by the city police department in this investigation. There is a fund which possibly this grand jury might be able to reach upon a proper presentation of the matter, and that is the contingent fund, which is provided for the investigation of matters of that kind through the medium of reward offered by the chief executive of the state. It would be better that a part of that fund be used, if it can be used, to unravel the affair and bring the truth to light than that it should be offered as a reward to some irresponsible person wbo might or might not by their investigations succeed in bringing to light the perpetrators of this affair. "It is an appalling state of things ?Uaf Lr i r-? rl tuat a iiuusauuuu ux mav aiuu wM?u be enacted in the midst of this community at one of the most publio points in the city, at a corner of one of the most prominent streets in your city, and at a time when there were so many people apparently awake and passing back and forth and yet remain enveloped in the mystery in which it appears to be enveloped. "I have felt it to be my duty to mention this to the grand jury, that if there should be a failure to arrive at a satisfactory solution of the affair by the coroner's jury, then that'it should be impressed upon you that it should be your duty to investigate a matter of that kind along with all other matters of public welfare to the people of your community." FIFTY MILES FROM A NEEDLE. The idea of the loss of a darning needle becoming a public calamity seems to be strange to us of the present generation, for it is difficult for us to realize the privations of the pioneers who first went to Canada, the straits to which they were at times reduced from lack of artioles now as common as water and air, and the preposterous value they often set upon them. According to the story of an aged resident of Fitzroy, Ontario, he well remembers the time when there was but one darning needle in that county, and the only mill was a day's journey distant. ' One day, a Mrs. Dickson, who chanced to have temporary possesion of the darning needle, and had it care--l *? anvAn \n o KaMai* IUJiy BlUW 1U UDI )?.. ... ? , sec off for the mill with a bag of grain laid on the back of a horse. The good lady had a rough road to travel, and unfortunately lost the darning needle. This was a public calamity in Fitzroy. Nearly 20 housewives depended upon that darning needle for repairing socks and for other coarse mending. It passed from one log house to another, by special messenger, and every woman had the use of it one day in three weeks. Another darning needle could not then be procured nearer than Perth, a matter of 50 miles away. Tidings of the disaster which had befallen Mrs. Dickson soon spread, and on the following morning a dozen women, some of them accompanied by their children, and some of them by their husbands, turned out to search three miles of the forest path. It seemed a hopeless task, but keen eyes were bent upon every portion of the highway, and at length one little girl espied it. A great shout was raised, and the good news was carried along the line of searchers. The party returned home, and the rejoicings in newly settled Fitzroy that day were great. THE TONIC OF A HEARTY LAUGH. In their convalescence invalids of our well-to-do middle class are apt to be overloaded with gifts of flowers, or Haintv Hishps to temDt the capricious appetite, or magazines when they are able to read, or the last new novel. A more cheerful contribution to carry to a sick room is a good anecdote, a mirth-provoking story, or a bright piece of gossip, over which we can chuckle again and again. The welcome visitor is be who -has some cheery message to bring, some tale to recite which must be punctuated with laughter. The aroma lasts after the dowers have faded, and even after the terrapin has been discussed and forgotten. Do not forget that a good laugh is a tonic to the invalid depressed by tbe astonishing "sequela" of grip. A bit of humorous gossip or a piquant saying is a contribution of real value to tbe sick room. Help the invalid, depressed by the contemplation of tbe necessary but tiresome paraphernalia of the sick room (hot-water bags, medi/>!nn nhinlfl. douches and atomizers) V,"v r 1 . to escape from tbe atmosphere in which he has suffered solitary confinement. Make him laugh, and then miudful that there is no reserve of strength depart at once before you exhaust him, leaving behind tbe echo of delighted mirth, and a tale that can be passed along, desirable social coinage, to the next visitor who comes to the room. "He that takes a wife takes care," says Franklin; but Brown says that Franklin is wrong?"that he who takes care, doesn't take a wife."