May 27, 2025 • 16 mins
Get entranced with The Hemlock Avenue Mystery, a thrilling piece from the mystery series penned by Lily Augusta Long under the alias Roman Doubleday. A lawyer finds himself in the thick of a murder accusation, having allegedly killed a legal adversary. Amidst the tumult, a persistent newspaper reporter decides to delve into the mysterious case. Complicating the plot are two women under suspicion, and another seemingly oblivious to the crime. With limited clues at his disposal, the reporter transitions into a detective, unwinding one enigma at a time. This gripping narrative is brought to life by the compelling narration of Roger Melin.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
Chapter eighteen of The Hemlock Avenue Mystery by Roman double Day.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter eighteen.
Lyon's first intention had been to wait until the house
was quiet that night before attempting to carry out his
plan of burglarizing Fullerton's apartment, But after the developments of
(00:23):
the afternoon, he felt that it was unwise to risk
even an hour's delay. Bede was too active to be
allowed much headway. As he made his preparations, he could
not help reflecting with amusement on the way in which
fate was using him. Here was he a newspaper man
bending every energy to keep this affair out of the papers,
(00:47):
a law abiding man working to frustrate the efforts of
the officers of the law, an averagely moral man deliberately
planning to commit technical burglary. If he be caught in
his efforts, he might find himself in jail Beside lawrence,
and to be arrested for attempted burglary was somehow less
(01:08):
dignified than to be arrested for murder. There are delicate
shades and crime that appealed to the sensibilities of the artist. However,
he was in for it, and though the situation might
appeal to his philosophical nature as full of paradox, he
had no intention of modifying his plans. It was eight
(01:30):
o'clock when he got into the room which he had
taken in the Wellington. He had got his keys from
Hunt and mentioned casually that he was going out later
in the evening. It was a cloudy, moonless night, and
though the street lamps spread a diffused light through the
air everywhere, the rear of the Wellington was as much
(01:51):
in the shadow as it was possible for any place
in the city to be. A jetting angle of the
wall in which there were no ways windows gave him
further protection in his venture. He fastened one end of
his rope ladder securely on the inside ledge of his window,
and then dropped it down. It reached just to Fullerton's
(02:14):
window on the floor below. Cautiously, Lion went down the
frail support. It was a windy night, and the gust
that came around the corner tossed the free end of
the ladder wildly, but his weight steadied it, and though
he swayed dizzily for a few minutes, he soon swung
down to a point where he could get a footing
(02:35):
on the broad window ledge of Fullerton's room. He had
come prepared to cut out a piece of glass opposite
the window catch, but as he put his hand upon it,
he felt it yield, and to his surprise and very
much to his relief, he found that he could push
the sash up. This not only would save time, but
(02:57):
it would enable him to cover his trail more effectively.
Curiosity made him pause, even in his hurry, to examine
the catch, and he found that, through a shrinkage of
the wood, the snap on the lower sash did not
reach to lock into the upper. It looked locked, but
it did not catch. It would be possible, therefore for
(03:21):
him to leave it still apparently locked from the inside.
When leaving, he fastened the end of his ladder so
that it would not blow out of his reach, and
then pulled down the window and drew the curtains to
exclude the light. Only then did he venture to strike
a match and turn on the nearest gas jet. He
(03:42):
remembered the general arrangement of the room very well from
his former visit. Here was the large square writing table
in the middle of the room, and there to the
right of it. On the floor was the rug Hunt
had spoken of where the letters lay. Lion sat down
before the table and studied the arrangement quietly. A man
(04:04):
sitting here could toss the letters to the rug easily
with a careless flip of his right hand. But a
letter would not of itself fall from the table to
the rug, even if blown from the table by a
strong gust from the open window, an idea that he
had had in his mind as a possibility, It would
not be apt to fall upon the rug. The direct
(04:26):
line would carry it to one side. For the present
he would eliminate the table. Where else could the letters
have been placed so as to fall upon the rug?
Assuming that Fullerton had written them the last evening he
was in the room, and had either forgotten to leave
them for mailing, or had laid them aside for some
(04:47):
reason when his collar arrived, where would he have been
apt to leave them? Lyon took his position on the
rug and studied the various pieces of furniture which lay
in unobstructed lines. From them point there was a small
table against the wall, and on it a circular pipe
tray with an array of pipes above it, fastened against
(05:11):
the wall, at a height which a man could reach
only of standing, was a small Chinese cabinet, carved in
the semblance of a dragon and gleaming with scarlet and gold.
Like the serpent marked notepaper, it bore witness to Fullerton's
fantastic taste. It would be quite in keeping with his
(05:31):
habits for him to use this as a repository for
his letters. Lion walked over to examine it. It opened
readily at his touch. The inside of the cabinet was
filled with tobacco jars. He tried to lift it from
the wall, but it was too securely fastened to make
this easy. But the idea that this was and must be,
(05:54):
the place where Fullerton had deposited Miss Wolcott's letters had
now taken possession of him, and, stepping up on a chair,
he examined the cabinet closely on all sides. From that
point he at once saw what he had not noticed before,
that on one side, near the bottom, was a crack,
(06:15):
and the white corner of an envelope was plainly visible.
With the help of his pen knife, he pulled it out.
It was addressed to Fullerton in a delicate hand. There
was at least no more mystery as to how the
letters had reached the rug. Evidently Fullerton had placed them
at some time for some purpose in this cabinet, and
(06:39):
they had been shaken loose at the dramatically opportune moment
when Hunt found them. Probably the jarring of the wall
when the furniture in his upper apartment had been moved
out had helped to dislodge them, or perhaps they occasionally
slipped out even when Fullerton was there. Without exciting suspicions
of supernaturallygency, the letters he wanted were probably inside. He
(07:05):
again examined the cabinet within and without, and though he
could find no secret drawer, he saw, by the shallowness
of the space within, as compared with the depth on
the outside, that there must be a drawer beneath the
compartment where the tobacco jars reposed. Well, if needs must,
(07:25):
he inserted the strongest blade of his knife and pried
open the whole side, not so difficult a task as
one might have supposed, for the delicate wood of the
cabinet had not been expected to resist the dry heat
of a modern apartment house, and it was badly cracked
at several points. As the side came loose in his hands,
(07:47):
he saw that under the ostensible interior was a shallow
drawer filled with packages of letters, longer documents, and note books.
He gathered the whole mass together and tied it hastily
into a bundle in his silk neckerchief. Then, with a
view to Beade's possible explorations, he carefully pressed the loose
(08:10):
side back into place. At that moment he heard through
the silence the metallic rattle of the elevator. Someone was
stopping at this floor. Hastily concluding that it was wiser
to make his escape unseen, if possible, with the booty
which he had already secured, than to risk discovery by
(08:31):
lingering on the chance of finding more, Lyon softly turned
out the gas and made his escape by the window,
Carrying his knotted kerchief like an emigrant's bundle in his hand.
He pulled the window down behind him and climbed up
his ladder to his own room. As he leaned out
to pull up his rope ladder, a sudden gleam of
(08:54):
light shot out into the night from the window below.
Bead was in Fullerton's room. Lion's heart was jumping, partly
from the unusual physical exertion, partly from the excitement. He
stood still for a moment, considering whether he should examine
his find here and now, or try to make his
(09:15):
escape from the building with it. Before he opened the bundle,
he had suddenly a panicky feeling that Bede might appear
at any moment and demand his papers. Had he really
covered his tracks, or had he left some perfectly obvious
clue for the detective to follow. His rope ladder lay
(09:35):
in a heap at his feet. He rolled it up
and poked it into the bottom of his bag, and then,
taking courage, he opened up his bundle. The first thing
that fell out was a good sized package, neatly wrapped
and sealed and superscribed. This package is to be delivered
(09:56):
to Edith Wolcott's husband on his wedding day, with the
compliment and congratulations of Warren Fullerton. Lyon smiled grimly as
he slipped the package into his pocket. There was little
doubt as to the contents of the sealed packet, and
with the recovery of those unhappy love letters, his immediate
(10:17):
object had been most perfectly accomplished. He glanced at his watch.
It was not yet nine. He might be so fortunate
as to be admitted yet, and to save her even
one night of the oppression which he had witnessed would
be worth much. He hastily packed the balance of his
(10:37):
trophy into his bag without examining it, and made his
way out of the apartment and out of the building,
taking the staircase instead of the elevator. He felt reasonably
sure that his departure had been unobserved, and so indeed
it proved. When he reached Hemlock Avenue, the lights were
(10:57):
still burning in Miss Wolcott's house, and it was Miss
Wolcott herself, who, after a little delay, opened the door
in answer to his ring. It struck him that she
looked less mistress of herself than usual. She had a startled,
not to say, nervous air. I hoped it might be you,
(11:19):
She said, Come to the library, and she led the
way into the room, where a dancing fire blazed upon
the hearth. I only stopped for a moment to bring
you this package, said lyon, if you wouldn't mind, I
wish that you would open it so that you can
tell me whether or not it contains the letters you
spoke of the other evening. She took the package from
(11:43):
him with a startled look, but without a word, a
characteristic of hers which he was coming to understand. He
turned away and picked up a book on the table
to withdraw his presence from her as much as possible.
As she tore open the wrappings. Then he heard her
give a gasping sigh, and he turned quickly toward her.
(12:06):
She had sunk into the chair before the fire, and
with her hands before her face, she was sobbing, with
a childish abandon that was so poignant it brought a
catch into Lion's throat, even though he saw that her
tears were tears of relief and joy. Scattered on the
floor at her feet, where they had slipped from her
(12:27):
trembling fingers, were dozens of little letters, the dainty little
notes of a young girl's inscribing like the fallen petals
of blossoms that had been torn down by a harsh wind.
They lay in pathetic disorder, witnessing to a beauty that
had been and was no more. Lion reached for his
(12:49):
hat and moved silently to the door, but at his movement,
she rose, crushing back her tears with that self control
which had become second nature with her. Oh wait, she
cried breathlessly. Don't go yet, don't leave me alone with them,
Lion laughed, Poor little letters, they looked so forlorn. The
(13:15):
power to hurt was never in them, only in a
man's wicked mind. She drew a long, sobbing breath. Still,
I don't want to touch them. Oh, I have so
hated the thought of them all these years. It seems
as though all the world had been lying under the
oppression of the fact that they were lurking in the dark,
(13:37):
waiting a chance to spring out upon me. Would you mind?
Would you put them on the fire for me? Certainly,
said Lion, with perfect gravity. He knelt down by the
fireplace and gathered the white handfuls up and laid them
upon the coals. When the last little envelope had curled
(13:59):
up into fit me ash, he rose. She was standing
erect before the fire, with a vitality and radiance in
every line of her figure that made her like a
different being. Truly, women are beyond all understanding, thought Lion,
as he waited for her next word. Thank you, she said,
(14:22):
and the simple phrase on her lips seemed like a
paean of thanksgiving. Now one more thing. You know everything.
You are the only one who does. Will you tell
mister Lawrence about these letters. He has always been a
good friend, and I should like to have him know.
(14:43):
I am sure he will be glad to learn that
you will be free from further annoyance and anxiety, he
said cheerfully. But as from my telling him, suppose instead
I arrange for you to see him yourself tomorrow. It
could be done without any publicity, you know, and it
would be a godsend to him to have a visit
(15:03):
from you. You can't imagine how stupid it is to
be in prison. A visit from anyone would be a
welcome diversion. She looked, thoughtful and abstracted. Tomorrow, she hesitated.
I don't know. I may not be at home tomorrow
(15:24):
well the day after. If you must postpone it, I'll
send you word, she said. After a moment, he thought
a shadow had crossed her face, but it might only
have been a shadow of thought. When he again reached
for his hat, she put out both hands impulsively. However,
(15:44):
things turn out other things, she said, somewhat incoherently. I
shall never never forget what you have done for me.
You have given me back myself. Lyon smiled to himself
as he left her. How long would she keep possession
of that gift? If Lawrence were only free? End of
(16:08):
Chapter eighteen,
Chapter eighteen of The Hemlock Avenue Mystery by Roman double Day.
This LibriVox recording is in the public domain. Chapter eighteen.
Lyon's first intention had been to wait until the house
was quiet that night before attempting to carry out his
plan of burglarizing Fullerton's apartment, But after the developments of
(00:23):
the afternoon, he felt that it was unwise to risk
even an hour's delay. Bede was too active to be
allowed much headway. As he made his preparations, he could
not help reflecting with amusement on the way in which
fate was using him. Here was he a newspaper man
bending every energy to keep this affair out of the papers,
(00:47):
a law abiding man working to frustrate the efforts of
the officers of the law, an averagely moral man deliberately
planning to commit technical burglary. If he be caught in
his efforts, he might find himself in jail Beside lawrence,
and to be arrested for attempted burglary was somehow less
(01:08):
dignified than to be arrested for murder. There are delicate
shades and crime that appealed to the sensibilities of the artist. However,
he was in for it, and though the situation might
appeal to his philosophical nature as full of paradox, he
had no intention of modifying his plans. It was eight
(01:30):
o'clock when he got into the room which he had
taken in the Wellington. He had got his keys from
Hunt and mentioned casually that he was going out later
in the evening. It was a cloudy, moonless night, and
though the street lamps spread a diffused light through the
air everywhere, the rear of the Wellington was as much
(01:51):
in the shadow as it was possible for any place
in the city to be. A jetting angle of the
wall in which there were no ways windows gave him
further protection in his venture. He fastened one end of
his rope ladder securely on the inside ledge of his window,
and then dropped it down. It reached just to Fullerton's
(02:14):
window on the floor below. Cautiously, Lion went down the
frail support. It was a windy night, and the gust
that came around the corner tossed the free end of
the ladder wildly, but his weight steadied it, and though
he swayed dizzily for a few minutes, he soon swung
down to a point where he could get a footing
(02:35):
on the broad window ledge of Fullerton's room. He had
come prepared to cut out a piece of glass opposite
the window catch, but as he put his hand upon it,
he felt it yield, and to his surprise and very
much to his relief, he found that he could push
the sash up. This not only would save time, but
(02:57):
it would enable him to cover his trail more effectively.
Curiosity made him pause, even in his hurry, to examine
the catch, and he found that, through a shrinkage of
the wood, the snap on the lower sash did not
reach to lock into the upper. It looked locked, but
it did not catch. It would be possible, therefore for
(03:21):
him to leave it still apparently locked from the inside.
When leaving, he fastened the end of his ladder so
that it would not blow out of his reach, and
then pulled down the window and drew the curtains to
exclude the light. Only then did he venture to strike
a match and turn on the nearest gas jet. He
(03:42):
remembered the general arrangement of the room very well from
his former visit. Here was the large square writing table
in the middle of the room, and there to the
right of it. On the floor was the rug Hunt
had spoken of where the letters lay. Lion sat down
before the table and studied the arrangement quietly. A man
(04:04):
sitting here could toss the letters to the rug easily
with a careless flip of his right hand. But a
letter would not of itself fall from the table to
the rug, even if blown from the table by a
strong gust from the open window, an idea that he
had had in his mind as a possibility, It would
not be apt to fall upon the rug. The direct
(04:26):
line would carry it to one side. For the present
he would eliminate the table. Where else could the letters
have been placed so as to fall upon the rug?
Assuming that Fullerton had written them the last evening he
was in the room, and had either forgotten to leave
them for mailing, or had laid them aside for some
(04:47):
reason when his collar arrived, where would he have been
apt to leave them? Lyon took his position on the
rug and studied the various pieces of furniture which lay
in unobstructed lines. From them point there was a small
table against the wall, and on it a circular pipe
tray with an array of pipes above it, fastened against
(05:11):
the wall, at a height which a man could reach
only of standing, was a small Chinese cabinet, carved in
the semblance of a dragon and gleaming with scarlet and gold.
Like the serpent marked notepaper, it bore witness to Fullerton's
fantastic taste. It would be quite in keeping with his
(05:31):
habits for him to use this as a repository for
his letters. Lion walked over to examine it. It opened
readily at his touch. The inside of the cabinet was
filled with tobacco jars. He tried to lift it from
the wall, but it was too securely fastened to make
this easy. But the idea that this was and must be,
(05:54):
the place where Fullerton had deposited Miss Wolcott's letters had
now taken possession of him, and, stepping up on a chair,
he examined the cabinet closely on all sides. From that
point he at once saw what he had not noticed before,
that on one side, near the bottom, was a crack,
(06:15):
and the white corner of an envelope was plainly visible.
With the help of his pen knife, he pulled it out.
It was addressed to Fullerton in a delicate hand. There
was at least no more mystery as to how the
letters had reached the rug. Evidently Fullerton had placed them
at some time for some purpose in this cabinet, and
(06:39):
they had been shaken loose at the dramatically opportune moment
when Hunt found them. Probably the jarring of the wall
when the furniture in his upper apartment had been moved
out had helped to dislodge them, or perhaps they occasionally
slipped out even when Fullerton was there. Without exciting suspicions
of supernaturallygency, the letters he wanted were probably inside. He
(07:05):
again examined the cabinet within and without, and though he
could find no secret drawer, he saw, by the shallowness
of the space within, as compared with the depth on
the outside, that there must be a drawer beneath the
compartment where the tobacco jars reposed. Well, if needs must,
(07:25):
he inserted the strongest blade of his knife and pried
open the whole side, not so difficult a task as
one might have supposed, for the delicate wood of the
cabinet had not been expected to resist the dry heat
of a modern apartment house, and it was badly cracked
at several points. As the side came loose in his hands,
(07:47):
he saw that under the ostensible interior was a shallow
drawer filled with packages of letters, longer documents, and note books.
He gathered the whole mass together and tied it hastily
into a bundle in his silk neckerchief. Then, with a
view to Beade's possible explorations, he carefully pressed the loose
(08:10):
side back into place. At that moment he heard through
the silence the metallic rattle of the elevator. Someone was
stopping at this floor. Hastily concluding that it was wiser
to make his escape unseen, if possible, with the booty
which he had already secured, than to risk discovery by
(08:31):
lingering on the chance of finding more, Lyon softly turned
out the gas and made his escape by the window,
Carrying his knotted kerchief like an emigrant's bundle in his hand.
He pulled the window down behind him and climbed up
his ladder to his own room. As he leaned out
to pull up his rope ladder, a sudden gleam of
(08:54):
light shot out into the night from the window below.
Bead was in Fullerton's room. Lion's heart was jumping, partly
from the unusual physical exertion, partly from the excitement. He
stood still for a moment, considering whether he should examine
his find here and now, or try to make his
(09:15):
escape from the building with it. Before he opened the bundle,
he had suddenly a panicky feeling that Bede might appear
at any moment and demand his papers. Had he really
covered his tracks, or had he left some perfectly obvious
clue for the detective to follow. His rope ladder lay
(09:35):
in a heap at his feet. He rolled it up
and poked it into the bottom of his bag, and then,
taking courage, he opened up his bundle. The first thing
that fell out was a good sized package, neatly wrapped
and sealed and superscribed. This package is to be delivered
(09:56):
to Edith Wolcott's husband on his wedding day, with the
compliment and congratulations of Warren Fullerton. Lyon smiled grimly as
he slipped the package into his pocket. There was little
doubt as to the contents of the sealed packet, and
with the recovery of those unhappy love letters, his immediate
(10:17):
object had been most perfectly accomplished. He glanced at his watch.
It was not yet nine. He might be so fortunate
as to be admitted yet, and to save her even
one night of the oppression which he had witnessed would
be worth much. He hastily packed the balance of his
(10:37):
trophy into his bag without examining it, and made his
way out of the apartment and out of the building,
taking the staircase instead of the elevator. He felt reasonably
sure that his departure had been unobserved, and so indeed
it proved. When he reached Hemlock Avenue, the lights were
(10:57):
still burning in Miss Wolcott's house, and it was Miss
Wolcott herself, who, after a little delay, opened the door
in answer to his ring. It struck him that she
looked less mistress of herself than usual. She had a startled,
not to say, nervous air. I hoped it might be you,
(11:19):
She said, Come to the library, and she led the
way into the room, where a dancing fire blazed upon
the hearth. I only stopped for a moment to bring
you this package, said lyon, if you wouldn't mind, I
wish that you would open it so that you can
tell me whether or not it contains the letters you
spoke of the other evening. She took the package from
(11:43):
him with a startled look, but without a word, a
characteristic of hers which he was coming to understand. He
turned away and picked up a book on the table
to withdraw his presence from her as much as possible.
As she tore open the wrappings. Then he heard her
give a gasping sigh, and he turned quickly toward her.
(12:06):
She had sunk into the chair before the fire, and
with her hands before her face, she was sobbing, with
a childish abandon that was so poignant it brought a
catch into Lion's throat, even though he saw that her
tears were tears of relief and joy. Scattered on the
floor at her feet, where they had slipped from her
(12:27):
trembling fingers, were dozens of little letters, the dainty little
notes of a young girl's inscribing like the fallen petals
of blossoms that had been torn down by a harsh wind.
They lay in pathetic disorder, witnessing to a beauty that
had been and was no more. Lion reached for his
(12:49):
hat and moved silently to the door, but at his movement,
she rose, crushing back her tears with that self control
which had become second nature with her. Oh wait, she
cried breathlessly. Don't go yet, don't leave me alone with them,
Lion laughed, Poor little letters, they looked so forlorn. The
(13:15):
power to hurt was never in them, only in a
man's wicked mind. She drew a long, sobbing breath. Still,
I don't want to touch them. Oh, I have so
hated the thought of them all these years. It seems
as though all the world had been lying under the
oppression of the fact that they were lurking in the dark,
(13:37):
waiting a chance to spring out upon me. Would you mind?
Would you put them on the fire for me? Certainly,
said Lion, with perfect gravity. He knelt down by the
fireplace and gathered the white handfuls up and laid them
upon the coals. When the last little envelope had curled
(13:59):
up into fit me ash, he rose. She was standing
erect before the fire, with a vitality and radiance in
every line of her figure that made her like a
different being. Truly, women are beyond all understanding, thought Lion,
as he waited for her next word. Thank you, she said,
(14:22):
and the simple phrase on her lips seemed like a
paean of thanksgiving. Now one more thing. You know everything.
You are the only one who does. Will you tell
mister Lawrence about these letters. He has always been a
good friend, and I should like to have him know.
(14:43):
I am sure he will be glad to learn that
you will be free from further annoyance and anxiety, he
said cheerfully. But as from my telling him, suppose instead
I arrange for you to see him yourself tomorrow. It
could be done without any publicity, you know, and it
would be a godsend to him to have a visit
(15:03):
from you. You can't imagine how stupid it is to
be in prison. A visit from anyone would be a
welcome diversion. She looked, thoughtful and abstracted. Tomorrow, she hesitated.
I don't know. I may not be at home tomorrow
(15:24):
well the day after. If you must postpone it, I'll
send you word, she said. After a moment, he thought
a shadow had crossed her face, but it might only
have been a shadow of thought. When he again reached
for his hat, she put out both hands impulsively. However,
(15:44):
things turn out other things, she said, somewhat incoherently. I
shall never never forget what you have done for me.
You have given me back myself. Lyon smiled to himself
as he left her. How long would she keep possession
of that gift? If Lawrence were only free? End of
(16:08):
Chapter eighteen,
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