The publisher of this book utilises modern printing technologies as well as photocopying processes for reprinting and preserving rare works of literature that are out-of-print or on the verge of becoming lost. This book is one such reprint.
CONTENTS: - CHAPTER I. STRANGLED
- CHAPTER II. "SOMETHING BIG IN IT"
- CHAPTER III. THE RUBY RING
- CHAPTER IV. TWO TRAILS
- CHAPTER V. THE HUSBAND'S STORY
- CHAPTER VI. MORLEY IS IN A HURRY
- CHAPTER VII. MISS FULTON IS HYSTERICAL
- CHAPTER VIII. THE BREATH OF SCANDAL
- CHAPTER IX. WOMEN'S NERVES
- CHAPTER X. EYES OF ACCUSATION
- CHAPTER XI. THE $1,000 CHECK.
- CHAPTER XII. THE MAN WITH THE GOLD TOOTH
- CHAPTER XIII. LUCY THOMAS TALKS
- CHAPTER XIV. THE PAWN BROKER TAKES THE TRAIL
- CHAPTER XV. BRACEWAY SEES A LIGHT
- CHAPTER XVI. A MESSAGE FROM MISS FULTON
- CHAPTER XVII. MISS FULTON'S REVELATION
- CHAPTER XVIII. WHAT'S BRACEWAY'S GAME?
- CHAPTER XIX. AT THE ANDERSON NATIONAL BANK
- CHAPTER XX. THE DISCOVERY OF THE JEWELS
- CHAPTER XXI. BRISTOW SOLVES A PROBLEM
- CHAPTER XXII. A CONFESSION
- CHAPTER XXIII. ON THE RACK
- CHAPTER XXIV. MISS FULTON WRITES A LETTER
- CHAPTER XXV. A MYSTIFYING TELEGRAM
- CHAPTER XXVI. WANTED: VENGEANCE
- CHAPTER XXVII. THE REVELATION
- CHAPTER XXVIII. CONFESSION VOLUNTARY
- CHAPTER XXIX. THE LAST CARD ***
a selection from CHAPTER I. STRANGLED:
When a woman's voice, pitched to the high note of utter terror, rang out on the late morning quiet of Manniston Road, Lawrence Bristow looked up from his newspaper quickly but vaguely, as if he doubted his own ears. He was reading an account of a murder committed in Waukesha, Wisconsin, and the shrieks he had just heard fitted in so well with the paragraph then before his eyes that his imagination might have been playing him tricks. He was allowed, however, little time for speculation or doubt.
"Murder! Help!" cried the woman in a staccato sharpness that carried the length of many blocks.
Bristow sprang to his feet and started down the short flight of stairs leading from his porch to the street. Before he had taken three steps, he saw the frightened girl standing on the porch of No. 5, two doors to his left. Although he was lame, he displayed surprising agility. His left leg, two inches shorter than the right and supported by a steel brace from foot to thigh, did not prevent his being the first to reach the young woman's side.
Late as it was, half-past ten, she was not fully dressed. She wore a kimono of light, sheer material which, clutched spasmodically about her, revealed the slightness and grace of her figure. Her fair hair hung down her back in a long, thick braid.
Neighbours across the street and further up Manniston Road were out on their porches now or starting toward No. 5. All of them were women.
The girl-she was barely past twenty, he thought-stopped screaming, and, her hands pressed to her throat and cheeks, stared wildly from him toward the front door, which was standing open. He entered the living room of the one-story bungalow. A foot within the doorway, he stood stock still. On the sofa against the opposite wall he saw another woman. He knew at first glance that she was dead.
The body was in a curious position. Apparently, before death had come, the victim had been sitting on the sofa, and, in dying, her body had crumpled over from the waist toward the right, so that now the lower part of her occupied the attitude of sitting while the upper half reclined as if in the posture of natural sleep. One thing which, perhaps, added to the gruesomeness of the sight was that she had on evening dress, a gown of pale blue satin embellished in unerring taste with real old Irish lace..
