Hide Article Text (OCR)
By DON MARK LEMON (Copyright, by Shortstory Pub. Co.) When a man has long had a bitter enemy, and one day that enemy is found dead on a man's premises with every mark of having come to his death by foul means, it goes hard with a man, and especially so if someone had once or twice overheard him threaten the life of that particular enemy. How much harder must it go with a man so situated if, a few minutes after his enemy is dead, that man is seen to typewrite and dispatch to a friend the information: “Have killed Jarobe!” Exceedingly hard—especially when the enemy’s name is Juzobe. James Miller was so situated. For years Juzobe had been his most bitter enemy and on a certain day in June, after Miller had been heard to threat en Juzobe's life, Juzobe was found dead at the back of Miller's house, with his skull crushed in at the top. True, the body was found directly beneath an open third-story window, from which a person might have fallen accidentally. But Miller did not put forward any such defense. He did not say, as he might have said, that his visitor, while sitting in the third-story window, had fallen out accidentally and been dashed to death. _In fact, Miller said nothing whatever in his own behalf—nothing to lift the dark cloud of suspicion resting upon him. He seemed entirely indifferent to everything, and appeared not to care whether fate should condemn and exe cute him or set him honorably free. He settled speedily into a deep apathy. Smith, Smith, Smith Smith was a law firm in San Francisco, where the death of Jarobe occurred, and on Miller’s arrest the head of the firm sought the accused at once, and offered to defend him. The four S's were four brothers, to whom the law was a thing which could be wrenched! “Sir,” said the prisoner, with a cynical smile, “your firm may be a very able one, but you can't clear me! Stop,” he added, as Smith was about to speak. “I don’t mind telling you that I held Jarobe out of my third story window and let him drop on his head 30 feet below. He lived like a dog and he died like a dog. Good af ternoon.” The representative of the four S’s was disconcerted for a moment only. He spoke not a word, but his looks said as plain as print, “Oh, is that all, my dear sir?” Then he got closer to Miller and set him aright. He ex plained to the prisoner that it did not amount to a string of dried peas whether he were guilty or not—the question was, could the law be wrenched? His own opinion was that it could, and he begged Miller to let the attempt be made, if only to show what could be done in such a case— just to see how hard a legal nut S., S., 8. S. could crack. “But,” he added, “just keep quiet—don’t talk.” Miller looked a trifle bored, but said: “Very well, sir, go ahead.” So Miller put himself into the hands of the Four S's, whose chief and representative departed after a few more words, his heart full of ambition and his bald head full of ideas, rather vague, it is true, as to how he and his brethren were to clear a self-confessed murderer, and that night, as the four economical Smith brothers lay side by side, spoon-fashion, in their big four poster, it seemed to them, individually and collectively, that they had as sumed gratuitously a rather big job. First they considered, only to re ject, the defense of insanity. For, though insanity may be a good plea in some places, it was growing monoto nous in San Francisco, where the real ly insane always took other grounds of defense. Next they considered and finally put aside the contention that their client had been forced to kill Ja robe in self-defense. Then they can vassed the merits of three or four more defenses, all master strokes when fresh, but now much too worn to serve. The next day the senior Smith called upon his client in a rather doubting mood, but to his surprise found Miller an entirely altered man. He had emerged from apathy and, grasping his lawyer's hand welcomed him eag erly, even fervently. “Mr. Smith,” he said, “if you will clear me of this murder charge and restore me to liberty I'll pay you for your services the sum of $200,000 in cash.” The lawyer looked at his client with something like suspicion. Per haps Miller, after all, really was in sane! “Yes,” the prisoner exclaimed, pas sionately, gripping the attorney's hands until they almost bled, I mean it—every word of it. Yesterday I thought her dead whom Jarobe parted from me with his fiendish falsehoods. But he lied like a car. She is living— I saw her through these bars, minis tering to the prisoners, like the angel she is. Yes, she lives! She shall know I was not false! We shall be united after all these years, and that wretch cannot come from his grave to prevent it! “My dear Mr. Miller,” cried the lov er, finally tearing his hands loose, and himself trembling between cupid ity and fear, “calm yourself, and be assured that no stone shall be left un turned in your defense. Two hundred
Newspaper Details
Monmouth Morning Gazette
Monmouth, Illinois, US
Tue, Jul 21, 1908
Page 7
Full Page
Clipped by
Anonymous
IN 19 Feb 2026
Other Publications Near Monmouth, Illinois
Monmouth College Society Catalogue 1856 to 1880
Monmouth College Yearbook Ravelings
Monmouth Courier
Monmouth College Newspaper Courier
Monmouth College Newspaper Clipper
