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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Hand and Ring, by Anna Katharine Green

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Title: Hand and Ring

Author: Anna Katharine Green

Release Date: March 17, 2010 [eBook #31681]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HAND AND RING***

 

E-text prepared by Suzanne Shell, Emmy,
and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team
(http://www.pgdp.net)
from page images generously made available by
Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries
(http://www.archive.org/details/toronto)

 

Note: Images of the original pages are available through Internet Archive/Canadian Libraries. See http://www.archive.org/details/handring00greeuoft

 

Transcriber's Note: Clicking on the second diagram (Page 364) will show the reader a larger, and somewhat more readable, version of the same.

 

 






BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
The Leavenworth Case. A Lawyer's Story. 16mo, cloth, $1.00; paper, 50 cents; 4to, paper 20 A Strange Disappearance. 16mo, cloth, $1.00; paper 50 The Sword of Damocles. 16mo, cloth, $1.00; paper 50 X. Y. Z. A Detective Story. 16mo, paper 25 The Defence of the Bride, and other Poems. Square 8vo., flexible cloth 1 00
G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, PUBLISHERS,
NEW YORK AND LONDON.



"'Look out,' cried the detective, 'or you will get yourself into trouble,' and he tightened his grip on the old creature's arm."—(Page 43.) (Frontispiece.) "'Look out,' cried the detective, 'or you will get yourself into trouble,' and he tightened his grip on the old creature's arm."—(Page 43.) (Frontispiece.) HAND AND RING BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
AUTHOR OF "THE LEAVENWORTH CASE", "THE SWORD OF DAMOCLES", "THE
DEFENSE OF THE BRIDE" ETC., ETC.




"For murder, though it have no tongue, will speak with most miraculous organ."


 

 



G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS
NEW YORK: 27 & 29 WEST 23D STREET
LONDON: 25 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN
1883

Copyright by
ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
1883



Press of
G. P. Putnam's Sons
New York

CONTENTS.
BOOK I. THE GENTLEMAN FROM TOLEDO. chapter  page I.  A Startling Coincidence 1 II.  An Appeal to Heaven 17 III.  The Unfinished Letter 31 IV.  Imogene 49 V.  Horace Byrd 67 VI.  The Skill of an Artist 85 VII.  Miss Firman 95 VIII.  The Thick-set Man 115 IX.  Close Calculations 128 X.  The Final Test 146 XI.  Decision 162
BOOK II. THE WEAVING OF A WEB. XII.  The Spider 168 XIII.  The Fly 175 XIV.  A Last Attempt 189 XV.  The End of a Tortuous Path 199 XVI.  Storm 205 XVII.  A Surprise 213 XVIII.  A Brace of Detectives 214 XIX.  Mr. Ferris 233 XX.  A Crisis 245 XXI.  A Heart's Martyrdom 258 XXII.  Craik Mansell 264 XXIII.  Mr. Orcutt 278 XXIV.  A True Bill 299 XXV.  Among Telescopes and Charts 306 XXVI.  "He Shall Hear Me!" 313
BOOK III. THE SCALES OF JUSTICE. XXVII.  The Great Trial 315 XXVIII.  The Chief Witness for the Prosecution 322 XXIX.  The Opening of the Defence 350 XXX.  Byrd Uses his Pencil Again 356 XXXI.  The Chief Witness for the Defence 369 XXXII.  Hickory 383 XXXIII.  A Late Discovery 392 XXXIV.  What Was Hid Behind Imogene's Veil 411 XXXV.  Pro and Con 436 XXXVI.  A Mistake Rectified 465 XXXVII.  Under the Great Tree 475 XXXVIII.  Unexpected Words 502 XXXIX.  Mr. Gryce 516 XL.  In the Prison 529 XLI.  A Link Supplied 555 XLII.  Consultations 568 XLIII.  Mrs. Firman 573 XLIV.  The Widow Clemmens 587 XLV.  Mr. Gryce Says Good-bye 600

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
  PAGE
"'Look out,' cried the detective, 'or you will get yourself into trouble,' and he tightened his grip on the old creature's arm." Frontispiece
"Taking her hand in his, he looked at her long and searchingly. 'Imogene,' he exclaimed, 'there is something weighing on your heart.'" 58
"He paused, sick and horror-stricken. Her face had risen upon him from the back of the chair, and was staring at him like that of a Medusa." 252
Diagram 364
"The curtains parted and disclosed the form of Imogene. 'I am coming,' she murmured, and stepped forth." 402

Note.—A portion of these illustrations originally appeared in Frank Leslie's Illustrated Newspaper, and have been used in this volume through the courtesy of Mrs. Leslie.

HAND AND RING. BOOK I. THE GENTLEMAN FROM TOLEDO. I. A STARTLING COINCIDENCE.
By the pricking of my thumbs,
Something wicked this way comes.
Macbeth.
THE town clock of Sibley had just struck twelve. Court had adjourned, and Judge Evans, with one or two of the leading lawyers of the county, stood in the door-way of the court-house discussing in a friendly way the eccentricities of criminals as developed in the case then before the court. Mr. Lord had just ventured the assertion that crime as a fine art was happily confined to France; to which District Attorney Ferris had replied:

"And why? Because atheism has not yet acquired such a hold upon our upper classes that gentlemen think it possible to meddle with such matters. It is only when a student, a doctor, a lawyer, determines to put aside from his path the secret stumbling-block to his desires or his ambition that the true intellectual crime is developed. That brute whom you see slouching along over the way is the type of the average criminal of the day."

And he indicated with a nod a sturdy, ill-favored man, who, with pack on his back, was just emerging from a grassy lane that opened out from the street directly opposite the court-house.

"Such men are often seen in the dock," remarked Mr. Orcutt, of more than local reputation as a criminal lawyer. "And often escape the penalty of their crimes," he added, watching, with a curious glance, the lowering brow and furtive look of the man who, upon perceiving the attention he had attracted, increased his pace till he almost broke into a run.

"Looks as if he had been up to mischief," observed Judge Evans.

"Rather as if he had heard the sentence which was passed upon the last tramp who paid his respects to this town," corrected Mr. Lord.

"Revenons à nos moutons," resumed the District Attorney. "Crime, as an investment, does not pay in this country. The regular burglar leads a dog's life of it; and when you come to the murderer, how few escape suspicion if they do the gallows. I do not know of a case where a murder for money has been really successful in this region."

"Then you must have some pretty cute detective work going on here," remarked a young man who had not before spoken.

"No, no—nothing to brag of. But the brutes are so clumsy—that is the word, clumsy. They don't know how to cover up their tracks."

"The smart ones don't make tracks," interposed a rough voice near them, and a large, red-haired, slightly hump-backed man, who, from the looks of those about, was evidently a stranger in the place, shuffled forward from the pillar against which he had been leaning, and took up the thread of conversation.

"I tell you," he continued, in a gruff tone somewhat out of keeping with the studied abstraction of his keen, gray eye, "that half the criminals are caught because they do make tracks and then resort to such extraordinary means to cover them up. The true secret of success in this line lies in striking your blow with a weapon picked up on the spot, and in choosing for the scene of your tragedy a thoroughfare where, in the natural course of events, other men will come and go and unconsciously tread out your traces, provided you have made any. This dissipates suspicion, or starts it in so many directions that justice is at once confused, if not ultimately baffled. Look at that house yonder," the stranger pursued, pointing to a plain dwelling on the opposite corner. "While we have been standing here, several persons of one kind or another, and among them a pretty rough-looking tramp, have gone into the side gate and so around to the kitchen door and back. I don't know who lives there, but say it is a solitary old woman above keeping help, and that an hour from now some one, not finding her in the house, searches through the garden and comes upon her lying dead behind the wood-pile, struck down by her own axe. On whom are you going to lay your hand in suspicion? On the stranger, of course—the rough-looking tramp that everybody thinks is ready for bloodshed at the least provocation. But suspicion is not conviction, and I would dare wager that no court, in face of a persistent denial on his part that he even saw the old woman when he went to her door, would bring in a verdict of murder against him, even though silver from her private drawer were found concealed upon his person. The chance that he spoke the truth, and that she was not in the house when he entered, and that his crime had been merely one of burglary or theft, would be enough to save him from the hangman."

"That is true," assented Mr. Lord, "unless all the other persons who had been seen to go into the yard were not only reputable men, but were willing to testify to having seen the woman alive up to the time he invaded her premises."

But the hump-backed stranger had already lounged away.

"What do you think about this, Mr. Byrd?" inquired the District Attorney, turning to the young man before alluded to. "You are an expert in these matters, or ought to be. What would you give for the tramp's chances if the detectives took him in hand?"

"I, sir?" was the response. "I am so comparatively young and inexperienced in such affairs, that I scarcely dare presume to express an opinion. But I have heard it said by Mr. Gryce, who you know stands foremost among the detectives of New York, that the only case of murder in which he utterly failed to get any clue to work upon, was that of a Jew who was knocked down in his own shop in broad daylight. But this will not appear so strange when you learn the full particulars. The store was situated between two alley-ways in Harlem. It had an entrance back and an entrance front. Both were in constant use. The man was found behind his counter, having evidently been hit on the head by a slung-shot while reaching for a box of hosiery. But though a succession of people were constantly passing by both doors, there was for that very reason no one to

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