Late as it was when I retired, I was up betimes in the morning—as soon, in fact, as the papers were distributed. The Tribune lay on the stoop. Eagerly I seized it; eagerly I read it. From its headlines you may judge what it had to say about this murder:
A STARTLING DISCOVERY IN THE VAN BURNAM MANSION IN GRAMERCY PARK.
A Young Girl Found there, Lying Dead under an Overturned Cabinet.
Evidences that she was Murdered before it was Pulled down upon her.
Thought by Some to be Mrs. Howard Van Burnam.
A Fearful Crime Involved in an Impenetrable Mystery.
What Mr. Van Burnam Says about it: He does not Recognize the Woman as his Wife.
So, so, it was his wife they were talking about. I had not expected that. Well! well! no wonder the girls looked startled and concerned. And I paused to recall what I had heard about Howard Van Burnam's marriage.
It had not been a fortunate one. His chosen bride was pretty enough, but she had not been bred in the ways of fashionable society, and the other members of the family had never recognized her. The father, especially, had cut his son dead since his marriage, and had even gone so far as to threaten to dissolve the partnership in which they were all involved. Worse than this, there had been rumors of a disagreement between Howard and his wife. They were not always on good terms, and opinions differed as to which was most in fault. So much for what I knew of these two mentioned parties.