An overturned ink bottle on the table had
spattered wide, and added to the general confusion. In the midst
of the disorder lay the body of the murdered man, now cold in the
rigour of death.
The police commissioner arrived soon, took possession of the rooms,
and made a thorough examination of the premises. A letter found
on the desk gave another proof, if such were needed, that this was
not a case of suicide. This letter was in the handwriting of the
dead man, and read as follows:
Dear Friend:
I appreciate greatly all the kindness shown me by yourself and your
good wife. I have been more successful than I thought possible in
overcoming the obstacles you know of. Therefore, I shall be very
glad to join you day after to-morrow, Sunday, in the proposed
excursion. I will call for you at 8 A.M.--the cab and the
champagne will be my share of the trip. We'll have a jolly day
and drink a glass or two to our plans for the future.
With best greetings for both of you,
Your old friend,
John
G--, Friday, Sept. 23rd.
An envelope, not yet addressed, lay beside this letter. It was
clear that the man who penned these words had no thought of suicide.
On the contrary, he was looking forward to a day of pleasure in the
near future, and laying plans for the time to come. The murderer's
bullet had pierced a heart pulsing with the joy of life.
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