A CHANCE OBSERVATION.

by Charles A Place

      One day while studying sun spots with me telescope, which was a fine and powerful instrument, it occurred to me to fit my terrestrial eye piece to the tube and amuse myself looking around the country. I had frequently tested the power of my glass by reading the time on a church clock in a neighboring town, and counting lightning rods on distant buildings and in various other ways, and I never tired of making fresh tests.

      On this day I had been through my routine, and, while sweeping the glass slowly around for fresh objects of interest, I saw, through a vista in a distant piece of woods, two men carrying a small but seemingly heavy trunk.

      I knew the woods perfectly, having become familiar with every square yard of it in my gunning expeditions.

      The sight of two men carrying a trunk in the woods was singular enough to excite my curiosity. I speculated on their probable errand, and, remembering that there was a railroad station not far from there, I decided that they were on their way to intercept a train.

      As I watched, the two men, putting the trunk down and using it for a seat, began an animated conversation, which, I judged, was an argument. My opinion was based on their gestures and facial expressions, which I could see plainly.

      One of the men was much taller than the other, much better dressed, and had much finer features. The other, who was of low stature, but very powerful looking, owing to great breadth of shoulders and depth of chest, was dressed like a laborer.

      I could see these men so plainly that it seemed strange that I could not hear their voices; and I felt so much like an eavesdropper that when they started simultaneously and looked in my direction I instinctively shrank back to avoid observation.

      They must have heard some noise which startled them, for they rose quickly and stood in attitudes which betokened expectancy. They stood thus alert, watchful and apparently listening, for a few instants, and then resumed their seats, as if what had disturbed them was no longer an object of anxiety.

      The tall man soon rose, in a decisive sort of way, and the other, rather reluctantly, as I thought, walked away. I concluded that the tall nan had sent him back for some forgotten piece of baggage. It seemed natural that the relations of the two men should be those of master and servant; but I could not understand the equality indicated by the mutual labor of carrying the trunk, or the apparently familiar air of discussion.

      No; I was mistaken in my surmise; the servant, if he were such, had not gone more than a few steps, for here he was again bearing a pickax and spade.

      The tall man in the meantime had been walking about as if selecting a spot to bury the trunk, for he pointed to a large hollow beside a granite bowlder, where the servant began digging, after having cleared away the leaves which had collected there.

      While the servant was digging the master sat on the bowlder watching him at work, and smoking a cigar which I saw him take from a pocket cigarette case and light.

      When the hole was ready the two men lifted the trunk into it and the short one covered it with earth he had thrown out and then carefully covered the place with leaves The spot selected was a good one for the purpose, as the hollow merely looked a little shallower than before.

      After the short man had carefully concealed the tools beneath a projecting part of the rock and tilled the crevice with leaves, the two held a short conversation and separated, going in different directions, the tall man toward the railroad station and the other in the direction from which they had come with the trunk. Just as the men disappeared I heard steps coming up the observatory stairs.

      I drew a long breath, as one does after having finished a chapter in an interesting book, and, turning from my glass, saw a servant bringing me a telegram. It bore the announcement of a near relatives death, and it drove from my mind all thought of the occurrence which had just engrossed my attention so thoroughly.

      As soon as I could get a train I was on my way to a distant city, where I had to represent my family at the funeral of my late relative.

      Circumstances connected with business pertaining to my relatives estate detained me somewhat more than a month.

      Boon after my return home I heard of robbery which had been committed in the neighboring town of a month or more before.

      Mr. Hammond, a wealthy gentleman, who owned a fine place on the bank of the river, had been robbed of several thousand dollars' worth of jewelry, silverware and other things, among which was a very fine collection of precious stones, both cut and uncut.

      No trace of the stolen articles had been found, nor had any clew to the identity of the burglars been discovered.

      Finding, by comparing dates, that the robbery was committed the night before I left home, I jumped at a conclusion; the men in the woods whom I had seen making the strange burial of a trunk were the robbers, and were burying their plunder on the day following the robbery.

      I had spoken to no one of what I saw that day; in fact, I did not remember thinking of that scene again until I heard of Mr. Hammond's loss.

      Thinking it a duty to inform Mr. Hammond of what I had seen I drove over to the next day, and called at his house, although personally we were unknown to each other.

      I was ushered into the parlor by the servant, who took my card to his master, and I waited some time for his appearance. While thinking over what I should say by way of introduction to the story I had come to tell I was startled by seeing before me in the door way one of the very men I had seen bury the trunk. It was the tall, well dressed one.

      Before I had recovered from the shock of surprise caused by the sight of him, he advanced with the ease of a well bred host and welcomed me, calling my name, and putting the matter beyond a doubt that this was Mr Hammond himself.

      "I am very sorry to have kept you waiting so long, Mr. Brainard," said he seating himself near me "but I have busy with some men who have been out hunting for my missing gardener, who disappeared so mysteriously the day before yesterday. You may have heard about it?"

      There was no doubt that this was Mr. Hammond, the owner of the house, but what should I say to him? Tell him that I had seen him in the woods that day helping to bury the treasure of which he had been robbed! No; that was too absurd.

      Not being able now to speak of the motive for my call, I decided to answer his last words and trust to the drift of the conversation to help me. So I answered rather awkwardly:

      "No, I had not heard of your gardener's disappearance; but I heard last night for the first time of the robbery that occurred here about a month ago."

      "Yes; that was as mysterious and inexplicable as the disappearance of the gardener; but the latter occurrence has so engrossed my attention for the past two days as to put the former almost out of my mind."

      "What sort of a looking man was your gardener?" I asked, not knowing what to say, but wishing to say something.

      "A rather striking looking man on account of his powerful physique. He was not a tall man, being a trifle under the average height, in fact; but from his hips up he was one of the strongest looking men I ever saw. Here, I can show you much better than I can describe how he looks."

      Rising, Mr. Hammond walked to the corner of his room and returned with a photograph of his house. The gardener had been taken in the view, and there he stood — the very man whom I saw in the woods burying the trunk. I could not mistake that figure and face. A small head surmounted the shoulders, The face was plainly distinguishable in the picture, and I could, without difficulty, identify it as the one I had seen through my telescope.

      Mr. Hammond probably noticed my critical examination of the picture, for he broke the silence which lasted during my long scrutiny by asking:

      "Did you ever happen to see him, Mr. Brainard?"

      "Yes," said I, "and under circumstances so peculiar that to tell you about it was the sole object of this call."

      "Indeed!"

      "I did not know until now," I continued, "that he was your gardener, or that he had disappeared: but the day after the robbery at your house I saw this man," tapping the photograph with my finger as I spoke, "with another man, in a piece of woods not far from here carrying a trunk containing something heavy, and I saw this man dig a hole and bury the trunk."

      "Another man, do you say? What sort of a looking man?" asked Mr. Hammond, quickly.

      "By no means so striking in his individuality," I replied. "He was taller than the gardener, I should say" —

      "And his face; did you see that? Could you recognize him?"

      "No," said I, answering the last question only, "I did not tell you that I saw the whole affair with my telescope from my observatory in ⸺. I had been studying sun spots, and, by the merest chance, I was looking around the country with my terrestrial eye piece when I happened upon this scene in the woods."

      It may have been my imagination which made me think Mr. Hammond breathed more easily.

      "What you have told me does much to clear up the mystery both of the robbery and the disappearance of the gardener. Strange that we should not have thought of the relations these two events might bear to each other! But we had never suspected John in the slightest degree. To be sure, we have had him only a few months, but he has been sober, industrious and apparently trustworthy in every way.

      "We were much puzzled by the fact that the entry was made without violence, After what you have told me, it is very easy to see it all."

      I did not know what to think of Mr. Hammond's coolness in the matter, Was it all feigned: or was I dreaming! I began to doubt that I had seen the gardener, even; yet there was his likeness in my hand and here was the other man I had seen, sitting before me. Perhaps there might be some reason why Mr. Hammond wished these jewels to disappear, and perhaps, after having used his gardener to secrete them, he had quietly sent him away, knowing where to find him when he wished.

      "By the way, Mr. Brainard, do you think you could go to that spot in the woods!"

      "Yes indeed: I am familiar with every square foot of that ground, and have been many times at that very place. If you like, I will show you just where it is."

      "The very thing I was about to request. If not too great a tax on your time and kindness, I would like to have you go with me, and show me where the rogues buried my jewels. Ah! Mr. Brainard, you do not know how much I feel the loss of those. No one but a collector can appreciate that part of it."

      His eyes fairly sparkled with enthusiasm as he spoke of his collection and tried to make me understand that the beauty and rarity which his specimens possessed were seldom equaled even in public collections.

      "Of course," said he, "there will be no chance of recovering anything; but you know we might find some clew at the spot where the things were buried which would lead to the apprehension of the robbers. Can we drive there?"

      "No; the shortest and best way, as it seems to me, is to take a boat and drop down the river to the nearest point and walk from there."

      We did so immediately, and when we arrived at the place where I intended to leave the boat Mr. Hammond exclaimed:

      "Why, this is the very spot where the boat was found when we were searching for the gardener! It was the finding of the boat which led to the theory that John had come down here to bathe, had been taken with cramps, and drowned. I have not favored that theory at all. John was not the sort of man to be drowned while swimming."

      I was almost persuaded by the man's manner and his evident willingness to go to the place that he was innocent of deceit.

      "I am afraid this means that you will never see your collection again, Mr. Hammond," I said. "The disappearance of the gardener and the finding of the boat here are proof enough to my mind that he came here and dug up the treasure and went off with it."

      "Of course, of course; I don't expect to find anything here; but we may find a clew."

      When we arrived at the opening in the woods and saw the bowlder on which I had seen Mr. Hammond sitting that day, the scene of a month ago came back so vividly that again I felt sure that this was the man whom saw. I could not understand his self possession. Was he doing all this for a blind?

      He looked with much interest when I pointed out to him the top of my observatory, just peeping over the trees, in the distance, and said:

      "How fortunate that you were studying sun spots that day, Mr. Brainard; but for that it would all have been a mystery still."

      Then turning to the rock, he continued:

      "Is this the place?"

      "Yes," said I, somewhat surprised that he should have asked; for I was very sure I had not told where the trunk was buried.

      Trying not to show that I was surprised, I said:

      "Let us look this place over carefully before disturbing any of the leaves or earth."

      We did so, and found nothing.

      "Now we will see if the trunk has been dug up. I think if it had been the place would not have been so carefully recovered."

      I then looked for the tools under the rock and found them without difficulty. I went to work immediately, and began to scratch away the leaves, preparatory to digging, when I saw something glitter among the leaves.

      "Ha! A clew!" I exclaimed, stooping to pick it up.

      It was an old fashioned watch key — a large oval piece of chalcedony, set in gold. Holding it up for Mr. Hammond to see, I said:

      "This may lead to the discovery of the robbers, and possibly to the recovery of your property."

      He was silent.

      Looking up from the key in my hand, I saw that he was deathly pale and trembling violently.

      "So," I thought, "at last your self possession deserts you."

      Feeling sure that the key belonged to him and that he had dropped it there, I said:

      "That did not belong to the gardener, did it?"

      "No," he answered, almost in a whisper; "that belonged to my father, and to my grandfather before him."

      "Oh! Then it was among the stolen jewelry? The rogues dropped it when they buried or dug up the trunk."

      "No; it was not among the stolen things," Mr. Hammond replied, in a measured sort of way. There was something about the tone of his voice which had a sadness in it, I thought.

      Not liking to watch his discomfort, I began digging energetically. I had not dug far when the spade struck something soft and yielding, yet with resistance enough to stop the spade. I struck it again, and this time I uncovered what appeared to be cloth, and the next stroke showed it to be the sleeve of a man's coat, with a ghastly hand protruding from it.

      I jumped back with a cry of horror. At the same instant a similar exclamation escaped Mr. Hammond's lips.

      "This is work for the coroner," said I.

      "And the hangman," added Mr. Hammond, in a whisper.

      My first thought was of the missing gardener, and I believed I was in the presence of the murderer as well as the murdered. Could it be possible? If so, why had he come here and let the discovery be made! Moreover, what motive could have induced him to kill the gardener? These thoughts flashed through my mind rapidly.

      Second thought caused me to look more closely at the dead hand. Perhaps this was not the gardener after all.

      No, it was not; most certainly, this hand never did any work; the fineness of the skin and the appearance of the nails plainly showed that the hand was not that of a working man.

      Without further thought of coroners, I began to dig again, though very carefully now, and finally using my hands.

      Very soon I uncovered the unfortunate man's face.

      Great heavens! Was I awake or dreaming some horrible dream!

      Here, lying partly buried in the earth, were the face and form of Mr. Hammond. Here was Mr. Hammond dead and buried. Here was Mr. Hammond standing looking into his own grave and trembling like an aspen.

      With an effort I convinced myself that was awake, and not dreaming.

      This wonderful likeness accounted for my cruel misjudgment of Mr. Hammond.

      Yes; I could see that this man was older looking than Mr. Hammond, now that I examined his face, Death had changed it somewhat, but I could swear to the identity of this man and the man who sat smoking a cigar on the rock.

      "Who is he?" I asked, feeling sure Mr. Hammond could answer me.

      "My brother."

      "Killed by the gardener?" I said.

      "Yes: I fear so, and all for those miserable jewels, I must tell you a very sad story, Mr. Brainard, in order to explain this to you.

      "My poor brother, here, was even more fond of jewels than I, and had a remarkable collection of his own, although mine excelled his in many particulars. Our mother, who — yes, I must tell you — died insane, had the same passion for jewels, and I think transmitted it to us. I have no doubt that my brother, in his mania to add my specimens to his own, bribed my man — whom he may have sent here months ago for this purpose — to assist him. I feel sure that John killed him to get the jewels, as well as the bribe."

      Mr. Hammond's unfortunate brother was buried in the family lot after a coroner's inquest, which found that he came to his death by the means of some blunt instrument in the hands of some one unknown to the jury.

      No one save Mr. Hammond and myself ever knew the motive of the murderer.

      Nothing was ever heard of the gardener or the jewels.

      Detectives privately employed by Mr. Hammond reported that a man answering to bis description sailed for England in an English bark which never arrived. Probably she foundered at sea, carrying down the gardener and Mr. Hammond's jewels. — Chicago Herald.