Picture Play Magazine (Oct-Nov 1915)

6 P TCTURE-PLAY 'WEEKLY Of the trial and conviction of the brilliant young district attorney the papers were full for many weeks. Jane forced herself to live through the dreadful days, though she would gladly have given her life if it could have helped Murray Campbell. Her adviser and closest friend in those trying days was Hamilton Ross. He had promised to find the man who had written the letter. But the case had come to trial and the writer was still unknown. Ross employed the best lawyers for the defense of Campbell, but to no avail. Young Strong had not died, but he lay in the hospital, delirious and dangerously ill. The wound in his head had healed, but it was thought unlikely that he would ever be a sane man again. Campbell was put away behind the bars, shut out from the happiness that beckoned him, forced to view the prospect of long years with only criminals and wardens for his companions. Jane had never forgotten his words : "I never struck him. It was an act of God." She set her own wits to fathom the mystery. She had handled the anonymous letter and had been puzzled by the curious aroma that clung to it. She had mentioned the aroma to Ross, but he had dismissed it curtly — too curtly, Jane thought ; and here began her first suspicion that the scientist himself had had something to do with the dastardly deed. She had read of volatile poisons which could be contained in sealed packages that were fatal when released. Where could she gain information about them? Where better than in the library of the great criminologist himself? Subtly she laid her plans for a visit to Ross' home. He was a methodical man and she readily learned that he always walked out for an hour in the afternoons. One of the memorable days in her life was that on which she, called on Hamilton Ross — and found him out, as she expected him to be. Kato, Ross' valet, invited her to come in and wait. Not only did she wait, but she entered into a very one-sided conversation with the valet, introducing herself, explaining her husband's plight, and telling him of her hopes that the great brain of the scientist would yet solve the mystery of the unknown writer of the incriminating note. Poor Kato, whose English was none of the best, listened with a growing bewilderment. He understood something of what she said, but was more conscious of her matchless charm ; and. when she stopped, he was ready to obey her slightest whim. "I must consult a book in his library," she insisted. "His laboratory and library are combined, as I know. Now conduct me there. Then return here and wait. If Mr. Ross comes in, send hi to me at once. The library — now !" Moving like an automaton, Kato 1 the way to the scientist's library, ai left her. She listened as his soft-sh< feet pattered downstairs. Then feve ishly she began, not to pore throu; books but to open drawers and re. letters. Ten, fifteen minutes passed, ai she found nothing. Then she came < a notebook marked : "The Moscc Case." Here was the story of the strange murdered altar boy. It fascinated hi More, it connected up with the myste letter that had sent her husband prison. It horrified her; sent the blood frc her cheeks. Jane had simulated unconsciousnc many times on the stage. Never in h life had she come so near to actua fainting as at that moment. "I've got him — but oh, God, the he ror of it!" She fell on her knees and praye "Give me strength now to be an actre It is for my husband's life." When Hamilton Ross returned frc his stroll. Kato was bubbling over wi a tale of an angelic woman who h visited him and had left a note. The note was written on his o\ stationery, and Ross smiled as he look at the signature. "Too bad I wasn't home, Kato. / ways be nice to the lady — very, ve nice to Jane Campbell. Let's see. S says she was tired and lonely a. wanted company. And you let her st and rest. I wish you'd made her w; till I came home. Never mind, Ka I forgive you all, for, listen." And read : " 'I do wish you'd run over to-nig Even if it is only for half an hoi Since poor Murray was taken aw my life is terribly dreary. And y are one of the few friends left to n Come and make me feel that life worth living just for one night. Wo; you come? Jane Campbell/ "How about it, Kato ? Won't come?" He slapped the goggle-ey Kato on the back, so far forgetting 1 dignity as to utterly shock the Orien valet. "It's all right, Kato. Everythi — everything is all right." Demure, in a modest gray gown, Ja waited her distinguished caller. He came in, buoyant, masterful.