Tragedy Trail | Page 5

been
chums for about three years. She always told me everything--and I
always told her everything. I'm sure that she wasn't in trouble, or
anything like that."
"No man in the case?"
"Oh, no! She did not care much for men. Neither of us had a sweetheart,
if that is what you want to know. We seldom went out evenings, except
together, and no men called on us here. It wasn't anything like that."
"Did you ever know of her having an enemy?"
"Never! She wasn't the kind to have enemies!" Mabel Higgins declared.

"You are sure that you have told me everything?"
"Why, yes! She was sitting there working on the centerpiece and
talking in an ordinary way about ordinary things. She just went into the
bathroom to get a drink and bring me one. She said something about
the water tasting queer----"
"You didn't tell me that before," the detective interrupted. He stopped
her further talk with a gesture and whirled toward the landlady.
"Mrs. Burke," he said, "let nobody use water from any of the faucets in
the house. Make sure of it! We don't want another tragedy here! I'll take
a bottle of that water along and have it examined immediately. And I'll
take that glass, too. Keep everybody out of that bathroom until we have
an expert investigate the plumbing and fixtures."
"But what--what does it mean?" Mabel Higgins gasped.
"Your chum was poisoned," the detective replied. "You didn't have any
poison around, did you?"
"Oh, no!"
"The doctor tells me that this poison causes almost instant death. She
took a drink of water and died. She made the remark that the water
tasted queer. It is just a supposition, of course, but we can't afford to be
taking chances. Mrs. Burke, I'd put this young woman in some other
room, where she will feel more at ease, and have this chamber closed
for the time being. We may want to make another investigation in
here."
"Come downstairs with me, Mabel," the landlady said in motherly
tones.
"I--I can't believe it!" the girl exclaimed. "I can't realize it. Just a short
time ago she was sitting there by the table, working on the centerpiece.
See? There is the needle stuck through the edge of the cloth, just as she
left it."

She picked up the piece of embroidery, fumbled at the needle, the tears
streaming down her cheeks again.
"Come on with me, dear," Mrs. Burke said, putting an arm around her
as the doctor motioned to get her out of the room. "Let's go
downstairs."
She led the weeping girl away, Mabel Higgins still clutching to her
breast the piece of embroidery upon which her chum had been working
just before she died.
The physician stepped out into the hall. The detective had filled a bottle
he had found, with water from the faucet in the bathroom, and took
possession of the glass from which Alice Patton had drunk a few
seconds before death claimed her. He turned out the lights and closed
the door, locking it and putting the key into one of his pockets.
"If I need you again before the inquest, doctor, I'll call you by
telephone," he said.
"Glad if I can be of service in any way."
"Oh, there may be nothing much to this case; and, again there may be a
great deal. A man never can tell in a case like this, especially at the first
glance. We may have to call in Terry Trimble before we are done, and
Heaven knows it isn't safe to call upon him unless the affair is highly
unusual and puzzling. He has helped the police out of several bad holes
recently. We hate to call upon him, of course--professional
jealousy--but sometimes we find it necessary."
"I've heard that he is good," the doctor said.
"Good? He's a wonder!" the detective replied, without any trace of the
professional jealousy he had mentioned.
"He keeps his wits about him when he's on a case. He declares that
there is no such thing as a mystery, and that what people call mysteries
can be read as easily as print, providing that a man knows how to read."

"Exactly," the doctor said; "providing that a man knows how. But not
every man does."
"Trimble doesn't look at a bit of dirt through a magnifying glass, and
then tell you that a red-headed man with a crooked nose did the murder
with an ax, and that you'll find him eating corned beef and cabbage at
the restaurant on the corner. Trimble just uses common sense, that's
all--common sense. That's why he's great!"
"You seem to admire him," said the doctor, starting to lead the way
down the stairs......
"I do! He showed me up once; that's why. I