• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

"Well, Viola, I - of course I'd do anything for you in the world. You know that, dearie. But if the law feels that Harry must be locked up I wouldn't like to interfere."

"Oh, Aunt Mary !"

"Besides, he says he did quarrel with your father," went on Miss Carwell. "And he won't say what it was about. I don't want to talk about any one, Vi, but it does look suspicious for Mr. Bartlett."

"Oh, Aunt Mary! Oh, I'll never forgive you for that!" and poor Viola broke into tears.

They left the courtroom and returned to The Haven. Harry Bartlett sent a hastily written note to Viola, asking her to suspend judgment and trust in him, and then he was taken to the county jail by the sheriff - being assured that he would be treated with every consideration and lodged in one of the witness rooms.

"Isn't there some process by which we could free him?" asked Viola. "Seems to me I've heard of some process - a habeas corpus writ, or something like that."

"Often persons, who can not be gotten out of the custody of the law in any other way, may be temporarily freed by habeas corpus proceedings," said Colonel Ashley. "In brief that means an order from the court, calling on the sheriff, or whoever has the custody of a prisoner, to produce his body in court. Of course a live body is understood in such cases.

"But such an expedient is only temporary. Its use is resorted to in order to bring out certain testimony that might be the means of freeing the accused. In this case, if Harry persisted in his refusal not to tell about the quarrel, the judge would have no other course open but to return him to jail. So I can't see that a habeas corpus would be of any service."

"In that case, no," sighed Viola. "But, oh, Colonel Ashley, I am sure something can be done. You must solve this mystery!"

"I am going to try, my dear Viola. I'll try both for your sake and that of the memory of your father. I loved him very much."

The day passed, and night settled down on the house of death. Throughout Lakeside and Loch Harbor, as well as the neighboring seaside places, talk of the death of Mr. Carwell under suspicious circumstances multiplied with the evening editions of many newspapers.

Colonel Ashley in his pleasant room at The Haven - more pleasant it would have been except for the dark chamber with its silent occupant - was putting his fishing rod together. There came a knock on the door, and Shag entered.

"Oh !" he exclaimed at the sight of the familiar equipment. "Is we - is yo' done on dish yeah case, Colonel?"

"No, Shag. I haven't even begun yet."

"But - "

"Yes, I know. I've just heard that there's pretty good fishing at one end of the golf course that's so intimately mixed up in this mystery, and I don't see why I shouldn't keep my hand in. Come here, you black rascal, and see if you can make this joint fit any better. Seems to me the ferrule is loose."

"Yes, sah, Colonel, I'll `tend to it immejite. I - er I done brung in - you ain't no `jections to lookin' at papers now, has you?" he asked hesitatingly. For when he went fishing the mere sight of a newspaper sometimes set Shag's master wild.

"No," was the answer. "In fact I was going to send you out for the latest editions, Shag."

"I'se done got `em," was the chuckling answer, and Shag pulled out from under his coat a bundle of papers that he had been hiding until he saw that it was safe to display them.

And while Shag was occupied with the rod, the colonel read the papers, which contained little he did not already know.

The next day he went fishing.

It was on his return from a successful day of sport, which was added to by some quiet and intensive thinking, that Viola spoke to him in the library. The colonel laid aside a paper he had been reading, and looked up.

In lieu of other news one of the reporters had written an interview with Dr. Baird, in which that physician discoursed learnedly on various poisons and the tests for them, such as might be made to determine what caused the death of Mr.