look forward with any hope, since already he had held the
position of district attorney for two consecutive terms, a
length of office due to the fact that not only was he a good
orator of the inland political stripe but also, as the chief legal
official of the county, he was in a position to do one and
another of his friends a favor. But now, unless he were so
fortunate as to be nominated and subsequently elected to
this county judgeship, defeat and political doldrums loomed
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737
ahead. For during all his term of office thus far, there had
been no really important case in connection with which he
had been able to distinguish himself and so rightfully and
hopefully demand further recognition from the people. But
this …
But now, as the Coroner shrewdly foresaw, might not this
case prove the very thing to fix the attention and favor of
the people upon one man—the incumbent district attorney—
a close and helpful friend of his, thus far—and so
sufficiently redound to his credit and strength, and through
him to the party ticket itself, so that at the coming election
all might be elected—the reigning district attorney thus
winning for himself not only the nomination for but his
election to the six-year term judgeship. Stranger things than
this had happened in the political world.
Immediately he decided not to answer any questions in
regard to this letter, since it promised a quick solution of the
mystery of the perpetrator of the crime, if there had been
one, plus exceptional credit in the present political situation
to whosoever should appear to be instrumental in the
same. At the same time he at once ordered Earl Newcomb,
as well as the guide who had brought Roberta and Clyde to
Big Bittern, to return to Gun Lodge station from where the
couple had come and say that under no circumstances was
the bag held there to be surrendered to any one save
himself or a representative of the district attorney. Then,
when he was about to telephone to Biltz to ascertain
whether there was such a family as Alden possessing a
daughter by the name of Bert, or possibly Alberta, he was
most providentially, as it seemed to him, interrupted by two
men and a boy, trappers and hunters of this region, who,
accompanied by a crowd of those now familiar with the
tragedy, were almost tumultuously ushered into his
presence. For they had news—news of the utmost
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738
importance! As they now related, with many interruptions
and corrections, at about five o’clock of the afternoon of the
day on which Roberta was drowned, they were setting out
from Three Mile Bay, some twelve miles south of Big
Bittern, to hunt and fish in and near this lake. And, as they
now unanimously testified, on the night in question, at
about nine o’clock, as they were nearing the south shore of
Big Bittern—perhaps three miles to the south of it—they
had encountered a young man, whom they took to be some
stranger making his way from the inn at Big Bittern south to
the village at Three Mile Bay. He was a smartishly and
decidedly well dressed youth for these parts, as they now
said—wearing a straw hat and carrying a bag, and at the
time they wondered why such a trip on foot and at such an
hour since there was a train south early next morning which
reached Three Mile Bay in an hour’s time. And why, too,
should he have been so startled at meeting them? For as
they described it, on his encountering them in the woods
thus, he had jumped back as though startled and worse—
terrified—as though about to run. To be sure, the lantern
one of them was carrying was turned exceedingly low, the
moon being still bright, and they had walked quietly, as
became men who were listening for wild life of any kind. At
the same time, surely this was a perfectly safe part of the
country, traversed for the most part by honest citizens such
as themselves, and there was no need for a young man to
jump as though he were seeking to hide in the brush.
However, when the youth, Bud Brunig, who carried the
light, turned it up the stranger seemed to recover his poise
and after a moment in response to their “Howdy” had
replied: “How do you do? How far is it to Three Mile Bay?”
and they had replied, “About seven mile.” And then he had
gone on and they also, discussing the encounter.
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739
And now, since the description of this youth tallied almost
exactly with that given by the guide who had driven Clyde
over from Gun Lodge, as well as that furnished by the
innkeepers at Big Bittern and Grass Lake, it seemed all too
plain that he must be the same youth who had been in that
boat with the mysterious dead girl.
At once Earl Newcomb suggested to his chief that he be
permitted to telephone to the one inn-keeper at Three Mile
Bay to see if by any chance this mysterious stranger had
been seen or had registered there. He had not. Nor
apparently at that time had he been seen by any other than
the three men. In fact, he had vanished as though into air,
although by nightfall of this same day it was established
that on the morning following the chance meeting of the
men with the stranger, a youth of somewhat the same
description and carrying a bag, but wearing a cap—not a
straw hat—had taken passage for Sharon on the small lake
steamer “Cygnus” plying between that place and Three Mile
Bay. But again, beyond that point, the trail appeared to be
lost. No one at Sharon, at least up to this time, seemed to
recall either the arrival or departure of any such person.
Even the captain himself, as he later testified, had not
particularly noted his debarkation—there were some
fourteen others going down the lake that day and he could
not be sure of any one person.
But in so far as the group at Big Bittern was concerned, the
conclusion slowly but definitely impressed itself upon all
those present that whoever this individual was, he was an
unmitigated villain—a reptilian villain! And forthwith there
was doubled and trebled in the minds of all a most urgent
desire that he be overtaken and captured. The scoundrel!
The murderer! And at once there was broadcast throughout
this region by word of mouth, telephone, telegraph, to such
An American Tragedy
740
papers as The Argus and Times-Union of Albany, and The Star of Lycurgus, the news of this pathetic tragedy with the
added hint that it might conceal a crime of the gravest
character.
An American Tragedy
741
Chapter 3
CORONER HEIT, his official duties completed for the time
being, found himself pondering, as he traveled south on the
lake train, how he was to proceed farther. What was the
next step he should take in this pathetic affair? For the
coroner, as he had looked at Roberta before he left was
really deeply moved. She seemed so young and innocent-
looking and pretty. The little blue serge dress lying heavily
and clinging tightly to her, her very small hands folded
across her breast, her warm, brown hair still damp from its
twenty-four hours in the water, yet somehow suggesting
some of the vivacity and passion that had invested her in life
—all seemed to indicate a sweetness which had nothing to
do with crime.
But deplorable as it might be, and undoubtedly was, there
was another aspect of the case that more vitally concerned
himself. Should he go to Biltz and convey to the Mrs. Alden
of the letter the dreadful intelligence of her daughter’s
death, at the same time inquiring about the character and
whereabouts of the man who had been with her, or should
he proceed first to District Attorney Mason’s office in
Bridgeburg and having imparted to him all of the details of
the case, allow that gentleman to assume the painful
responsibility of devastating a probably utterly respectable
home? For there was the political situation to be
considered. And while he himself might act and so take
personal credit, still there was this general party situation to
be thought of. A strong man should undoubtedly head and
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742
so strengthen the party ticket this fall and here was the
golden opportunity. The latter course seemed wiser. It
would provide his friend, the district attorney, with his great
chance. Arriving in Bridgeburg in this mood, he ponderously
invaded the office of Orville W. Mason, the district attorney,
who immediately sat up, all attention, sensing something of
import in the coroner’s manner.
Mason was a short, broad-chested, broad-backed and
vigorous individual physically, but in his late youth had been
so unfortunate as to have an otherwise pleasant and even