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Augusta, Clara, 1839-1905

"The Fatal Glove"


Leo crouched a little way off, his eyes jubilant, his tail beating the
ground, evincing the greatest satisfaction. All present knew that the dog
rejoiced at the death of his master.
Alexandrine took a step toward the dead man, her back to the
horror-stricken group by the gate. She stopped suddenly, and lifted
something from the ground.
Darby, alert and watchful, was by her side in a moment.
"What have you there?" he demanded.
"My glove which I dropped," she answered, quietly, holding up the dainty
bit of embroidered kid.
The detective turned away satisfied; but Margie saw the girl's hand
shake, and her lips grow pale as marble, the moment Darby's keen eye was
removed from her face.
The discovery of the remains was followed by a long and tedious
investigation. There was an inquest, and a rigid examination of every
person who could by any possibility be imagined capable of throwing any
light on the murder, and after all was over, the mystery was just as dark
as it was at first.
Nothing was found to furnish the slightest clue to the assassin, except
a white cambric handkerchief just inside the graveyard, marked with the
single initial "A" in one corner. This handkerchief might have belonged
to the murderer, and it might have belonged to Mr.


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