or child!" he said. "She is dead,
Mrs. Pitman!"

"Not she--at Sewickley!"

"No," he said patiently. "That was Jennie Brice."

"But--Mr. Howell--"

"Mr. Howell is a young ass," he said with irritation. "He did not take
Jennie Brice out of the city that morning. He took Alice Murray in
Jennie Brice's clothing, and veiled."

Well, that is five years ago. Five times since then the Allegheny
River, from being a mild and inoffensive stream, carrying a few boats
and a great deal of sewage, has become, a raging destroyer, and has
filled our hearts with fear and our cellars with mud. Five times since
then Molly Maguire has appropriated all that the flood carried from my
premises to hers, and five times have I lifted my carpets and moved
Mr. Holcombe, who occupies the parlor bedroom, to a second-floor room.

A few days ago, as I said at the beginning, we found Peter's body
floating in the cellar, and as soon as the yard was dry, I buried him.
He had grown fat and lazy, but I shall miss him.

Yesterday a riverman fell off a barge along the water-front and was
drowned. They dragged the river for his body, but they did not find
him. But they found something--an onyx clock, with the tattered
remnant of a muslin pillow-slip wrapped around it. It only bore out
the story, as we had known it for five years.

The Murray girl had lived long enough to make a statement to the
police, although Mr. Holcombe only learned this later. On the
statement being shown to Ladley in the jail, and his learning of the
girl's death, he collapsed. He confessed before he was hanged, and his
confession, briefly, was like this:

He had met the Murray girl in connection with the typing of his play,
and had fallen in love with her. He had never cared for his wife, and
would have been glad to get rid of her in any way possible. He had not
intended to kill her, however. He had planned to elope with the Murray
girl, and awaiting an opportunity, had persuaded her to leave home and
to take a room near my house.

Here he had visited her daily, while his wife was at the theater.

They had planned to go to New York together on Monday, March the
fifth. On Sunday, the fourth, however, Mr. Bronson and Mr. Howell
had made their curious proposition. When he accepted, Philip Ladley
maintained that he meant only to carry out the plan as suggested. But
the temptation was too strong for him. That night, while his wife
slept, he had strangled her.

I believe he wa