THE ALAMANCE GLEANER
' * * •
VOL. LII.
THE
POISONED
BOOTS
i
By H. M. EGBERT
(Copyright by W. a. Chapman.)
I SUSPECTED Louise Carey from
the first; but In that I was no dif
ferent from the farmer's neigh
bors. John Carey had married a
second time, late In life, when his
three sons were growing up to man
hood. Jim, the eldest, was twenty;
Frank, eighteen; Leonard, the young
est. fourteen.
John Carey was rich, and Louise
Brand had been a poor girl in the city
when the elderly man, making a busi
ness trip there, saw her working as
a. stenographer in the lawyer's office.
The courtship was brief, and they
were married three weeks after their
tirst meeting. f
John Carey had been a close-fisted
man, but a good neighbor and had
been generally esteemed. He fell un
der the rule of his young wife. His
Hons resented the stranger's presence
In,the home. Quarrels between father
and sons ensued. There was a bad
one a week before the farmer's death.
He changed his will, leaving every
thing to ffs wife, vfclth reversion to
Leonard, the youngest, the only one
who cared for his stepmother. Be
tween the two a devoted attachment
sprang up.
The motive .for murdering John
Carey? Fear lest he should change
Ids will again. Three days 'later
Carey came in from the field, where
he had been binding, in high spirts.
He had his supper, pulled off his boots,
complained of feeling ill, and lay dowu
on the lounge. Nobody else was in the
room. When his wife entered, an
hour later, lie was dead, his lower
limbs and body terribly Swollen. \
It was like snake pofton; the ex
perts said the condition of the body
resembled that of a man Who had been
struck by a rattler. But there was no
rattler in the house, though they were
plentiful in the figjd. If Carey had
been killed by a snake, the poison
would have taken effect before Jie en
tered his home.
John Carey was buried, and the few
whispers on the part of the neigh
bors died away. Jim and Frank had
left the house at the time of the quar
rel. They started suit, alleging undue
influence. They hid removed their
personal effects, including some cloth
ing, the property of their father.
Close-fisted like him, they did not see
the sense of leaving his effects to
Louise; and she offered no objection.
It was just a month later that the
second death occurred. Jim Carey had
gone to the stepmother's house to talk
things over with her. Louise Carey
was a sensible woman and had volun
teered to come to a settlement. Ac
cording to her story, they had practi
cally reached an agreement. She had
given her stepson tea, and he had com
plained that his father's boots hurt
him and pulled them off. A few mo
ments later he began to complain. She
fan to the telephone and summoned
the doctor, recognizing the same .symp
toms as those of which her husband
had died. Before the doctor arrived,
Jim was dead, and dreadfully swollen.
The boots? They were a pair of
high, farmers' boots, and John Carey
had worn them for nearly a year be
fore his death. If there was poison in
•he boots, it wonld have taken effect
iong before. Jim had worn them dur
ing his four-mile tramp from where he
"ved to his stepmother's house. It
was suspected that she had a store of
Poison, which she had secretly admin
istered. The police ransacked the
house from roof to cellar, but could
find nothing. It was then that I was
called in.
Universally suspected, universally
shunned, Mrs. Carey lived a wretched
"fe. The Httle boys had begun to call
" ut afttfc - her in the street. She would
have left the house but for Leonard,
who believed In her, and to whom she
*as passionately devoted, I resided in
jhe village, assumed the guise of an
"tending purchaser of real estate, and
frLat capacity I visited the Carey
arm, to talk -over the price. Mrs.
ar 7 was wlHlng to sell, after the
'rouble had .been cleared up. She
•"truck me as a sensible woman, and I
ad my doubts as to her culpability.
farmer's boots had been thrown
a *ay in the attic, with the rest of his.
c othing. i found an opportunity by
Ko "ig to th'e' house when Mrs. Carey
*as away, to look at them. It did
occur to me that there might be some
s n>tkp venom In them, but Icassured
l ' mt th ' B WEB not the case " 86
as most people know, snake ven
m acts aR a toxic agent only when in-
odureil through an abrasion. Swal
t We '; Is harmless. And it seemed,
if f "y° a ' ) ' e in the extreme that, even
HIP R ° WERE POISON in the boots,
Pr e would have jteen an abrasion on
aeti foot ° f each °' th e two men ex "
y w,| ere the poison would be free
10 enter.
A °d, again, rattlesnakes, for all
their reputation, only Inflict a maxi
mum of discomfort, not death. I think
the number of cases of fatal rattle
snake poisoning is less than a dozen.
It would have been Impossible for th«
men to have died in so short a time.
Quite by accident, however, I
learned that a circus had p'assed
through the village six months before.
Among its attractions had been a Hin
du snake charmer, who had amused
and astonished the people until the
circus passed, to be soon forgotten. I
learned that Mrs. Carey had attended
the circus with Leonard, and had been
seen to speak to the man.
This looked bad. After all, if it
was snake poison, Mrs. Carey was the
only person with a motive to kill. I
withdrew my favorable opinion. I
watched her more narrowly.
I had actually invested S2OO in an
option on the property. This gave me
plenty of opportunity to visit there. I
was at the farm one afternoon when
Leonard came out of the house; and
I saw the woman's face blanch.
"Leonard!" she gasped. "Your fa
ther's boots!"
I looked and saw that the boy was
wearing the identical boots which the
two men had worn before their death.
They were much too large for him, but
they came up toward the knee, and
were very serviceable for harvest
work.
that's all right, mom," he an
swered. "They'll come in handy out
In the field. Why, mom, I've had these
on for nearly two hours, and if there
was poison in them I guess I'd have
felt it before now."
"Take them off!" screamed Mrs.
Carey. And yet, agitated though she
was, there was no sound of guilty
knowledge in her voice, only of fear.
'tl wish I'd buried the things," she
sobbed wildly. "If it hadn't been for
your father and brother having worn
them, folks wouldn't* accuse me of hav
ing killed them."
Leonard ran to hqf and put his arms
about her. "Why, mom, folks are liars,
that's sill," he *sald. He clenched his
\ fists. "Just let me see the man who
says you are a murderess !"• he cried.
"And, mom," lie added, "I'll take them
off right away." ( '
lie sat down in the sun and pulled
off the boots. Then, carrying them in
his hand, he ran in his stockinged
feet back into theiiouse.
I saw the tension on Mrs; Carey's
face. Presently Leonard came back,
wearing a pair of ordinary boots. He
looked very sober and paler than be
fore. He came rather unsteadily up to
his mother.
"I don't feel well, mom," he gasped,
and fell at her feet. Mrs. Carey
screamed wildly, and I carried the boy
into the house and called the doctor.
The- doctor arrived in half an hour
and diagnosed the case as hopeless.
By that time Leonard's legs were
swollen to three times their size, and
he was black below the waist. But I
refused to accept the verdict.
Mrs. Carey and I worked over him
all that day. It was a desperate effort
to keep him awake, attd we could not
walk him on his swollen feet. But we
punched and struck him, and pulled
up his drooping eyelids. We struck
him and pushed him from side to side,
trundling him about the room. Some
how we managed to prevent the coma
of death from developing that night,
and by morning the boy was better.
The doctor, who called expecting him
to be dead, was amazed.
The next day was a critical one, but
by nightfall Leonard was able to go to
sleep, and by the next morning the
sweHlng had gone down a little and he
was on the way to recovery. Then,
only, did I think of the boots.
The story had spread through the
village, and warrant for Mrs. Carey's
arrest ha«l already been issued. It
was I who confronted the constable at
the. door with my evidence. For I had
slashed the boots to pieces and discov
ered the mystery. •
In the left boot was nothing. But in
the right boot, set near the ankle, was
a tiny snake fang, with a portion of
the venom sack attached to it. It had
been thrust out with such violence
that it had penetrated the leather and
carriMl this minute portion of the poi
son sack with It.
It was set downward at such .an
angle that it would not abrade the
s£in when the boot was put on, but
must Inevitably do so when it was
pulled off.
The explanation was an obvious one,
and it cleared Mrs. Carey, who n o*r re
sides, with Frank and Leonard, j\ l the
old place, esteemed by everyon/ The
deadly poison was identified with that
of the Indian hooded cobra. The snake
had escaped the and
had struck at the farmer's leg, with
out his knowledge. T\A fang, remain
ing In the tough leader, had done no
injury pulled off his
boots. Then it had killed him.
Bouquets for Judgea
Bouquet of flowers and scented
herbs are given, every morning In the
summer, to judges hearing cases in
London's central criminal court. This
Is a survival from the days when the
courts were made unhealthy by evil
doers from the underground cells.
THE
HAPPY HOME
By MARGARET BRUCE
WNU Service
Ruga From Old Raga
I don't know of anything In all our
modern, home-decorating that does us
more credit than our revival of early
American furniture, textiles, utensils,
and quaint household devices of all
sorts. What could be less appropriate
for us than ornate reproductions of
the various French periods, say? And
what could be more appropriate than
the solid colonial pieces In mahogany
or maple, the hand-woven bedspreads,
the rush-seated chairs, pewter dishes
and candlesticks, odd little footstools,
doof knockers, and fireplace Imple
ments that we.have Inherited from
our own forefathers? These things
belong to us—they are ours!
Among the loveliest of these lega
cies from the past is the rag rug In Its
various guises. iThere isn't anything
more attractive or more In keeping
with our genuine or reproduced secre
taries, four-poster beds, little sewing
tables, lift-leaf or pie-crust tables,
mahogany or gilt-framed colonial
mirrors, than this simple floor cover
ing that speaks of the pioneer clays
when every American housewife uti
lized each scrap of cloth left from the
family wardrobe.
To my mind, the so-called "hit or
miss" pattern is the most satisfactory
for rugs of large size. These are made
of strips Of every color and pattern.
with an occasional stripe of solid col
or run through to give a sense of
solidity. These rugs are made now
by„many domestic factories, where the
old colors and treatment are success
fully copied. They are inexpensive
as well, and have the added virtue of
being washable.
The oval or round braided rag rugs
are beautiful indeed, especially in the
small bedside or hall sizes, and in
the rich dark variegated colors that
look so well In the living room that
follows the old ideas. A good many
modern women are collecting their
own old rags, as did their great-grand
mothers, and having them woven to
order in some of the weaving studios
throughout the East; but unless these
materials are well preserved, £he rug
is not apt to last as long. For home
weaving, it is better to use nnbieached
muslin dyed to the exact shades de
sired. One Acolor generally predomi
nates, to harmonize with the hangings
of the room where the rug is to He.
On Time to the Minute
One day recently 1 Bat in the cor
ridor of a large hotel, waiting for a
friend. Near me,
H standing easily
against the pan
eled wall, was a
graceful yoang
woman who was
evidently waiting
also. She was
charmingly
dressed, well
groomed and un
hurried. It was
afternoon. Ten
minntes later a
crisp young busi
ness man walked down the corridor,
glancing from right to left. Then, his
face lighting up, he came toward her.
"By George, Bess, you're right on
time to the minute. I never knew a
girl before who didn't keep a chap
waiting half an hour fr more. How do
you do It?"
The girl laughed.
"Why, you're the one who is on time
to the minute." she declared. "I was
ten minutes ahead of time! You see,
I know how tiresome It Is to stand
waiting for someone to keep an ap
pointment, especially wlien you are
one of the sort who is always punctual
—and I know you are. It's Just as
easy to be a Httle early as a little
late, and people can depend on you."
Then, as they moved away, she added,
a little shyly:
"I'm In training to have breakfast
and dinner on time to the minute—
some day. You'll see!"
He looked down at her-with an en
gaged man's entranced face, and I
had to turn away from tbe foolish
vapiUness of his smile. But I won
dered, as I sat there and watched
twitching, impatient men stand first
on one foot and then the other, look
at their watches, and gnash their
teeth, obviously waiting for their later,
If not better halves, why wonftn can
not get the habit of being on time
to the minute.
(Copjrrlfht.l
GRAHAM, N, C., THURSDAY DECEMBR 23, 1926. •
OUR COMIC SECTION
'
£ Going Full Speed ~|J~]
THE FEATHERHEADS ; Faniiy Gives Strong Interference
isp 9 \ n iiiiiiiiiF • .iiaiii'i
' L \r ■WE WILL NOW HME A V . '! ! H / WW4.TS YOOP NAME? \L T 'IF I
/ MONOLOGUE CRONLUE \ IPPP* \L S&ID ~^ E -JUDGE \ 1
| SILVER TONGUE OFTUE ) P— • I/ LOCKSMITH .SAID IAS \ |
\ MYSTIC ENTERTAINER— / {======= I I MADE (K BOLT FOR THE /
\ ye I DOOQ~-WELL,SAID TUE /
I You KNEW WE U*D COMPANY) 1 1 ISSU1 SSU c H / /I, * . \ ' ! !
I IBNISUT- COME AW»/ FDOM Jv "f" 0 ? \
I j .
PETTY THINGS
W\
>C
Helen—"And I became furious when
he persisted in kissing me and hold
ing my hands." Belle —"Why get an
gry over such petty things?"
Sure Sign
"Helen," said Mr. Hill, "I think that
bashful boy friend is out on
the porch trying to make a call." .
"Why, father," exclaimed Helen, "I
didn't hear anyone ring."
"Neither did I," acknoweledged dad.
"But I hear his knees knocking to
gether."
Reason for a Reputation
"How did Thompson get the reputa
tion of being a dog fancier?"
"Whenever he seea a pup that Is
particularly ugly he refers to It as a
beauty."
Phrased Unfortunately
Ilev. William Collins, to whom
the Liberal church of Denver has Just
given the title of "Bishop of Right
eous Ilell," said at n Denver t«-a:
"Our Idea is that the Modernists
are wrong In trying lo abolish Hell,
for Hell serves a righteous purpose
In keeping a great many people
straight.
"Righteous Ilell—Do you see?
The phrase perhaps Wlli appear
confusing to some. Perhaps like the(
old lady's compliment. It Is unfortun
ately worded. The ol.d lady you
know:
" 'I did enjoy your sermon so much,
sir. lit was like water to a drowning
roan. v " .
Tagged Again
"I asked a policeman, like yon told
me."
"Welir
"He said I was on the wrong side
of the street, so I left the car there
and walked over."
Poor Henry
Mrs. Peck (after tjiey had retired) —
Henry, why do you feign sleep when 1
want to talk to you?
Henry—l am not feigning sleep, my
dear, but I fain would sleep.
FUNCTION OF THE LID
Reggie—"And the rude fellow re
ferred lo my hat as a lid. Miss
Sharpe." Miss Sliarpe—"Well, a lid-Is
usually found covering a hollow re
ceptacle you know, Mr. Sharpe."
r
The Limit
"He has a mean disposition, hasn't
he?"
"I should say so. He's the kind of
a man who'll rake In a jack-pot on a
bluff, and then, after he's stacked up
the chJps will spread out four hearta
and a spade for everybody to look
at." —Detroit Free Press.
Slight Mistake
"I won't throw any more callera out
of my daughter's parlor."
"What happened?"
"The girl next door had come over
to show her new knickerbockers."
NO. 46.
THE EXCEPTION
The youngs woman was shown round
the ship by a mate. She saw every ,
thing. Including the cabins, the stoke
hold, and the saloons. At last they
came to the bridge, where the captain
was standing.
"Ah, so that's the captain," re
marked the visitor. "He's the man
whose word is law while you're at sea.
Isn't her
"No, madam, not this time," said
the mate. "Yon see, the wife's com
ing with him on this trip."—Edinburgh
Scotsman.
•
RIGHT DIRECTION
. '
She (under spell of vernal moon)
—Let's sit on the step and talk.
He (under same spell)— That's a
step in the right direction. I'd say.
No Need to Hurry
"Judge." requested the prisoner at
the bar, "I'd like to start serving my
sentence right away, so I'll have it
over quicker.
"So hurry, my boy." replied the
j Judge genially. "It's going to be a
life sentence." American Legion
Monthly.
Bad Outlook
"Tills Is a knotty case. Eight worn- *
en on the jury."
• "And the woman you defend?"
"Is accused of stealing another
woman's cook."
"What's worrying yon?"'
"I'm afraid they'll hang ray client."
Kill the Dog
Harold—There's the handkerchief
you dropped last night, dear. I slept
with It under my pillow and Fve
kissed It a thousand times.
Alice—That isn't my handkerchief.
That's little Fldo's sweater.
Correct Conclusion
"Black chile, does you all know what
deceit am?"
"Suttinly I does. Beelzebub."
"Den what is It?"
"Well, when I leans ovah an' heahs
sometbln' rip, I knows dat's de seat."
A Sad Mistake
Wilkes—So the bridegroom didn't
(how up at the wedding?
Crandall —No; they forgot to send
him an Invitation.
Question
"Dolly's all right if you know how
to take her."
''Well, I'm taking her In a taxi, is
that the proper way?"
A PRETTY PICKLE
• Old Maid Sour Pickle*—Look at
ttidse disgusting Sweet* Pickles!
Her Opinion
Angry Girl to* Druggist—This van
ishing cream Is a fake.
Druggist—How come?
Fnrldus Female—l've used It on my
nose every night for two weeks, and
It's Just as long as It ever was!
No Sign of a Breakdown
Disgusted Parent —How much longer
do you expect me to iq on supporting
you?
• Stolid Son —Well, father, yon know
you are in the pink of condition.
* " ' •