The Leavenworth Case by Anna Katharine Green (e reader comics txt) 📖

a letter directed to Mr. Leavenworth from some House, and dated—let’s see; that is an h, isn’t it?” And I pointed to the one letter just discernible on the line under the word House.

“I should think so; but don’t ask me.”

“It must be an h. The year is 1875, and this is not the termination of either January or February. Dated, then, March 1st, 1876, and signed——”

Mr. Gryce rolled his eyes in anticipatory ecstasy towards the ceiling.

“By Henry Clavering,” I announced without hesitation.

Mr. Gryce’s eyes returned to his swathed finger-ends. “Humph! how do you know that?”

“Wait a moment, and I’ll show you”; and, taking out of my pocket the card which Mr. Clavering had handed me as an introduction at our late interview, I laid it underneath the last line of writing on the second page. One glance was sufficient. Henry Ritchie Clavering on the card; H——chie—in the same handwriting on the letter.

“Clavering it is,” said he, “without a doubt.” But I saw he was not surprised.

“And now,” I continued, “for its general tenor and meaning.” And, commencing at the beginning, I read aloud the words as they came, with pauses at the breaks, something as follows: “Mr. Hor—Dear—a niece whom yo—one too who see—the love and trus—any other man ca—autiful, so char——s she in face fo——conversation. ery rose has its——rose is no exception———ely as she is, char——tender as she is, s—————pable of tramplin———one who trusted——heart——————. —————————— him to——he owes a——honor——ance.

“If———t believe —— her to——cruel——face,—— what is——ble serv——yours

“H———tchie”

“It reads like a complaint against one of Mr. Leavenworth’s nieces,” I said, and started at my own words.

“What is it?” cried Mr. Gryce; “what is the matter?”

“Why,” said I, “the fact is I have heard this very letter spoken of. It is a complaint against one of Mr. Leavenworth’s nieces, and was written by Mr. Clavering.” And I told him of Mr. Harwell’s communication in regard to the matter.

“Ah! then Mr. Harwell has been talking, has he? I thought he had forsworn gossip.”

“Mr. Harwell and I have seen each other almost daily for the last two weeks,” I replied. “It would be strange if he had nothing to tell me.”

“And he says he has read a letter written to Mr. Leavenworth by Mr. Clavering?”

“Yes; but the particular words of which he has now forgotten.”

“These few here may assist him in recalling the rest.”

“I would rather not admit him to a knowledge of the existence of this piece of evidence. I don’t believe in letting any one into our confidence whom we can conscientiously keep out.”

“I see you don’t,” dryly responded Mr. Gryce.

Not appearing to notice the fling conveyed by these words, I took up the letter once more, and began pointing out such half-formed words in it as I thought we might venture to complete, as the Hor—, yo—, see—utiful——, har——, for——, tramplin——, pable——, serv——.

This done, I next proposed the introduction of such others as seemed necessary to the sense, as Leavenworth after Horatio; Sir after Dear; have with a possible you before a niece; thorn after its in the phrase rose has its; on after trampling; whom after to; debt after a; you after If; me ask after believe; beautiful after cruel.

Between the columns of words thus furnished I interposed a phrase or two, here and there, the whole reading upon its completion as follows:

“—————— House.” March 1st, 1876.

“Mr. Horatio Leavenworth; Dear Sir:

“(You) have a niece whom you    one too who seems    worthy    the love and trust     of any other man ca    so    beautiful, so charming    is she in face form and    conversation.    But every rose has its thorn and (this) rose is no exception    lovely as she is, charming (as she is,) tender as she is, she    is    capable of trampling on     one who trusted her
heart a

him to whom she owes a debt of honor a    ance

“If you don’t believe me ask her to    her    cruel beautiful face    what is (her) humble servant yours:

“Henry Ritchie Clavering.”

“I think that will do,” said Mr. Gryce. “Its general tenor is evident, and that is all we want at this time.”

“The whole tone of it is anything but complimentary to the lady it mentions,” I remarked. “He must have had, or imagined he had, some desperate grievance, to provoke him to the use of such plain language in regard to one he can still characterize as tender, charming, beautiful.”

“Grievances are apt to lie back of mysterious crimes.”

“I think I know what this one was,” I said; “but”—seeing him look up—“must decline to communicate my suspicion to you for the present. My theory stands unshaken, and in some degree confirmed; and that is all I can say.”

“Then this letter does not supply the link you wanted?”

“No: it is a valuable bit of evidence; but it is not the link I am in search of just now.”

“Yet it must be an important clue, or Eleanore Leavenworth would not have been to such pains, first to take it in the way she did from her uncle’s table, and secondly——”

“Wait! what makes you think this is the paper she took, or was believed to have taken, from Mr. Leavenworth’s table on that fatal morning?”

“Why, the fact that it was found together with the key, which we know she dropped into the grate, and that there are drops of blood on it.”

I shook my head.

“Why do you shake your head?” asked Mr. Gryce.

“Because I am not satisfied with your reason for believing this to be the paper taken by her from Mr. Leavenworth’s table.”

“And why?”

“Well, first, because Fobbs does not speak of seeing any paper in her hand, when she bent over the fire; leaving us to conclude that these pieces were in the scuttle of coal she threw upon it; which surely you must acknowledge to be a strange place for her to have put a paper she took such pains to gain possession of; and, secondly, for the reason that these scraps were twisted as if they had been used for curl papers, or something of that kind; a fact hard to explain by your hypothesis.”

The detective’s eye stole in the direction of my