[Editorial] down town -> downtown
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<p>The synopsis of the story is alone given, as literary style is not our object—we want mystery.</p>
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<section id="a-guess-proof-mystery-story-1" epub:type="chapter">
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<h3 epub:type="title">Chapter <span epub:type="z3998:roman">I</span></h3>
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<p>Judge Smith, a highly esteemed citizen of Plunkville, is found murdered in his bed at his home. He has been stabbed with a pair of scissors, poisoned with “rough on rats.” His throat has been cut with an ivory handled razor, an artery in his arm has been opened, and he has been shot full of buckshot from a doublebarreled gun.</p>
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<p>Judge Smith, a highly esteemed citizen of Plunkville, is found murdered in his bed at his home. He has been stabbed with a pair of scissors, poisoned with “rough on rats.” His throat has been cut with an ivory handled razor, an artery in his arm has been opened, and he has been shot full of buckshot from a double-barreled gun.</p>
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<p>The coroner is summoned and the room examined. On the ceiling is a bloody footprint, and on the floor are found a lady’s lace handkerchief, embroidered with the initials “<abbr class="name">J. B.</abbr>,” a package of cigarettes and a ham sandwich. The coroner renders a verdict of suicide.</p>
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</section>
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<section id="a-guess-proof-mystery-story-2" epub:type="chapter">
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<section id="a-strange-story" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
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<h2 epub:type="title">A Strange Story</h2>
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<p>In the northern part of Austin there once dwelt an honest family by the name of Smothers. The family consisted of John Smothers, his wife, himself, their little daughter, five years of age, and her parents, making six people toward the population of the city when counted for a special write-up, but only three by actual count.</p>
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<p>One night after supper the little girl was seized with a severe colic, and John Smothers hurried down town to get some medicine.</p>
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<p>One night after supper the little girl was seized with a severe colic, and John Smothers hurried downtown to get some medicine.</p>
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<p>He never came back.</p>
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<p>The little girl recovered and in time grew up to womanhood.</p>
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<p>The mother grieved very much over her husband’s disappearance, and it was nearly three months before she married again, and moved to San Antonio.</p>
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<p>That night when her husband came home he noticed a curtain stretched across one end of the sitting room, but he had so long been used to innovations of all sorts that he was rather afraid to investigate.</p>
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<p>It might be stated apropos to the story that the lady’s husband was addicted to the use of beer.</p>
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<p>He not only liked beer, but he fondly loved beer. Beer never felt the slightest jealousy when this gentleman was out of its sight.</p>
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<p>After supper the lady said: “Now, Robert, I have a little surprise for you. There is no need of your going down town tonight, as you generally do, because I have arranged our home so that it will supply all the pleasures that you go out to seek.”</p>
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<p>After supper the lady said: “Now, Robert, I have a little surprise for you. There is no need of your going downtown tonight, as you generally do, because I have arranged our home so that it will supply all the pleasures that you go out to seek.”</p>
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<p>With that she drew the curtain and Robert saw that one end of the sitting room had been fitted up as a bar—or rather his wife’s idea of a bar.</p>
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<p>A couple of strips of the carpet had been taken up and sawdust strewn on the floor. The kitchen table extended across the end of the room, and back of this on a shelf were arranged a formidable display of bottles, of all shapes and sizes, while the mirror of the best dresser had been taken off and placed artistically in the center.</p>
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<p>On a trestle stood a fresh keg of beer and his wife, who had put on a coquettish-looking cap and apron, tripped lightly behind the bar, and waving a beer mug coyly at him said:</p>
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<p>“It’s an idea I had, Robert. I thought it would be much nicer to have you spend your money at home, and at the same time have all the amusement and pleasure that you do down town. What will you have, sir?” she continued, with fine, commercial politeness.</p>
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<p>“It’s an idea I had, Robert. I thought it would be much nicer to have you spend your money at home, and at the same time have all the amusement and pleasure that you do downtown. What will you have, sir?” she continued, with fine, commercial politeness.</p>
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<p>Robert leaned against the bar and pawed the floor fruitlessly three or four times, trying to find the foot rest. He was a little stunned, as he always was at his wife’s original ideas. Then he braced himself and tried to conjure up a ghastly imitation of a smile.</p>
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<p>‘Til take a beer, please,” he said.</p>
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<p>His wife drew the beer, laid the nickel on the shelf and leaned on the bar, chatting familiarly on the topics of the day after the manner of bartenders.</p>
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<section id="her-ruse" epub:type="volume se:short-story">
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<h2 epub:type="title">Her Ruse</h2>
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<p>“How do I keep John home of nights?” asked a Houston lady of a friend the other day.</p>
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<p>“Well, I struck a plan once by a sudden inspiration, and it worked very nicely. John had been in a habit of going down town every night after supper and staying until ten or eleven o’clock. One night he left as usual, and after going three or four blocks he found he had forgotten his umbrella and came back for it. I was in the sitting room reading, and he slipped in the room on his tiptoes and came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes. John expected me to be very much startled, I suppose, but I only said softly, ‘Is that you, Tom?’ John hasn’t been down town at night since.”</p>
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<p>“Well, I struck a plan once by a sudden inspiration, and it worked very nicely. John had been in a habit of going downtown every night after supper and staying until ten or eleven o’clock. One night he left as usual, and after going three or four blocks he found he had forgotten his umbrella and came back for it. I was in the sitting room reading, and he slipped in the room on his tiptoes and came up behind me and put his hands over my eyes. John expected me to be very much startled, I suppose, but I only said softly, ‘Is that you, Tom?’ John hasn’t been downtown at night since.”</p>
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</section>
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</body>
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</html>
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<p>And then my capillaries relaxed, for I dimly saw him footing it away through the darkness. But he walked so swiftly and silently and contrary to the gait promised by his age that my composure was not all restored, though I knew not why.</p>
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<p>That night I was foolish enough to take down some dust-covered volumes from my modest shelves. I searched “Hermippus Redivvus” and “Salathiel” and the “Pepys Collection” in vain. And then in a book called “The Citizen of the World,” and in one two centuries old, I came upon what I desired. Michob Ader had indeed come to Paris in the year 1643, and related to the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Turkish Spy</i> an extraordinary story. He claimed to be the Wandering Jew, and that—</p>
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<p>But here I fell asleep, for my editorial duties had not been light that day.</p>
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<p>Judge Hoover was the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Bugle’s</i> candidate for congress. Having to confer with him, I sought his home early the next morning; and we walked together down town through a little street with which I was unfamiliar.</p>
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<p>Judge Hoover was the <i epub:type="se:name.publication.newspaper">Bugle’s</i> candidate for congress. Having to confer with him, I sought his home early the next morning; and we walked together downtown through a little street with which I was unfamiliar.</p>
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<p>“Did you ever hear of Michob Ader?” I asked him, smiling.</p>
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<p>“Why, yes,” said the judge. “And that reminds me of my shoes he has for mending. Here is his shop now.”</p>
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<p>Judge Hoover stepped into a dingy, small shop. I looked up at the sign, and saw “Mike O’Bader, Boot and Shoe Maker,” on it. Some wild geese passed above, honking clearly. I scratched my ear and frowned, and then trailed into the shop.</p>
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<p>After about four months in Washington, Miss Lydia discovered one morning that they were almost without money. The “Anecdotes and Reminiscences” was completed, but publishers had not jumped at the collected gems of Alabama sense and wit. The rental of a small house which they still owned in Mobile was two months in arrears. Their board money for the month would be due in three days. Miss Lydia called her father to a consultation.</p>
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<p>“No money?” said he with a surprised look. “It is quite annoying to be called on so frequently for these petty sums. Really, I—”</p>
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<p>The major searched his pockets. He found only a two-dollar bill, which he returned to his vest pocket.</p>
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<p>“I must attend to this at once, Lydia,” he said. “Kindly get me my umbrella and I will go down town immediately. The congressman from our district, General Fulghum, assured me some days ago that he would use his influence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to his hotel at once and see what arrangement has been made.”</p>
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<p>“I must attend to this at once, Lydia,” he said. “Kindly get me my umbrella and I will go downtown immediately. The congressman from our district, General Fulghum, assured me some days ago that he would use his influence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to his hotel at once and see what arrangement has been made.”</p>
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<p>With a sad little smile Miss Lydia watched him button his “Father Hubbard” and depart, pausing at the door, as he always did, to bow profoundly.</p>
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<p>That evening, at dark, he returned. It seemed that Congressman Fulghum had seen the publisher who had the major’s manuscript for reading. That person had said that if the anecdotes, <abbr>etc.</abbr>, were carefully pruned down about one half, in order to eliminate the sectional and class prejudice with which the book was dyed from end to end, he might consider its publication.</p>
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<p>The major was in a white heat of anger, but regained his equanimity, according to his code of manners, as soon as he was in Miss Lydia’s presence.</p>
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<p>“You call that a joke, do you, you old reptile,” shrieked the excited lady. “I’m going home to mamma this evening and I’m going to stay there. Thought you’d fool me by cutting it out, did you? You sneaking, dissipated old snake you! I’ve got my trunk nicely packed and I’m going straight home—don’t you come near me!”</p>
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<p>“Maria,” gasped the bewildered man. “I swear I—”</p>
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<p>“Don’t add perjury to your crimes, sir!”</p>
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<p>The man tried unsuccessfully to speak three or four times, and then grabbed his hat and ran down town. Fifteen minutes later he came back bringing two new silk dress patterns, four pounds of caramels, and his bookkeeper and three clerks to prove that he was hard at work in the store on the night in question.</p>
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<p>The man tried unsuccessfully to speak three or four times, and then grabbed his hat and ran downtown. Fifteen minutes later he came back bringing two new silk dress patterns, four pounds of caramels, and his bookkeeper and three clerks to prove that he was hard at work in the store on the night in question.</p>
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<p>The affair was finally settled satisfactorily, hut there is one Houston man who has no further curiosity about woman’s curiosity.</p>
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</section>
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</body>
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