Putnam's Pastime (Asher, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 9, Ed. 1 Monday, December 1, 1913 Page: 4 of 4
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PUTNAM’S PASTIME
By ANNA KATHARINE GREEN
AUTHOR OP “THE LEAVENWORTH CASE
THE FILIGREE BALirTlIE HOUSE OF THEWKSI’ERING PiNES
ILLUSTRATIONS DY
CI1ADLES W. ROSSER
3HT 1911 by STPKEJT ^ AM1TH
1911
10U
W
ty_
MOU J. MF.AJ) M CO
SYNOPSIS.
Oeor«?« AruPTHon and
markable looking man come
Clermont Hotel lo
wnxh IiIm ItarwlH in
Commotion attraetB thorn to the (
a ro-
of the
about us starn. Sweetwater, coinci-
denceB are possible. We run upon
them every day. But coincidence In
crime! that should make work for a
detective, and we are not afraid of
work. There’s my hand for my end
of the business."
"And here’s mine."
Next minute the two heads were
closer than ever together, and the
business had begun.
CHAPTER XIII.
Wlf« BOO
Ing man come out of
hotel, look around furtively. I
hl« hands in the snow and pass on. I
where ll Is found ihat tin* beautiful M
Edith Chnlloner has fallen dead. Amler-
ton describes the mun he saw wash his I
hands In tin* snow. The holel manager j
declares him to he Orlando Hrothersnn. ;
Physicians find tliat MIhh Challoncr was
•tabbed and not shot, which seems to I
Hear Brotherson of suspicion. Gryce. an
nged detective, and Sweetwater, his as-
sistant. take up the case. They believe
Miss Challoncr Blabbed herself. A paper
cutter found near tin* ac ne of tragedy m j
bellev • I to he the wv.ipon used Mr ('hal xim#» Clrriimatmces and
lom r tells ..f u hat.-l, of letters found In Time, Circumstances, ana
his daughter's desk, signed "O. B." All
are love letters except one which shows
that tin* writer was displeased. This let-
ter was signed bv Orlando Brotherson.
Anderson goes with Sweet water to Iden-
tify Brotherson. who Is to address a meet-
ing of anarchists. The place Is raided by
the police and Brotherson escapes with-
out being Identified. Brotherson Is found
living In a tenement under the name of
Bunn. Me is an inventor. Brotherson
fells the coroner of his acquaintance with
Miss Chnlloner and how she repulsed him
with scorn when he offered her his lo
Sweetwater recalls the mystery of
murder of a washerwoman in which i
details were similar to the Challoner
fair.
ove.
the
ome
af-
CHAPTER XII.—Continued.
Only the Dunn of today seemed to
have all his wits about him, while the
huge fellow who brushed so rudely by
me on that occasion had the peculiar
look of a man struggling with horror
or some other grave agitation. This
was not surprising, of course, under
the circumstances. 1 had met more
than one man and woman in those
halls who had worn the same look;
but none of them had put up a sign
on his door that he had left for New
York and would not he back till 6:30,
and then changed his mind so sudden
ly that he was back In the tenement
at three, sharing the curiosity and the
terrors of its horrified inmates.
"Hut the discovery, while possibly
suggestive, wns not of so pressing a
nature as to demand instant action;
and more Immediate duties coming
up, I let the matter slip from my
mind, to be brought up again the next
day, you Aoay well believe, when all
the ctrdBjBstances of the death nt the
Olennontpame to light and I found
'myself confronted by n prolilem verv
nearly the counterpart of the one then
occupying me.
‘‘But I did not see any real connec-
tion between the two cases, until, in
my hunt for Mr. Brotherson, 1 came
upon the following factB; that he waR
not always the gentleman he ap-
peared; that the apartment in which
lie was supposed lo live was not his
own but a friend's named Conway;
and that he was only there by spells.
When he was there, he dressed like a
prince and it wns while so clothed he
ate his meals in the cafe of the Hotel
Clermont.
"Of Brotherson himself i saw noth-
ing. He had eome to Mr. Conway's
apartment the night before—the night
of Miss Challoner’B death, you under-
stand—but had remained only long
enough to change his clothes. Where
he went afterwards Is unknown to Mr
Conway, nor can he tell us when to
look for his return. When he does
show up, my message will he given
him, etc., etc. I have no fault to find
with Mr. Conway.
"You have heard how Brotherson
bore himself at (lie coroner’s office;
what his explanations were and how
completely they fitted In with the pre-
conceived notions of the inspector and
tho district attorney. In consequence.
Miss Challoner's death is looked upon
as a suicide. A weapon was in her
hand—she impulsively used it, and an-
other deplorable suicide was added to
the melancholy list. Had 1 put in my
oar at the conference held in the coro-
ner's office; had 1 recalled to Doctor
Heath the curious case of Mrs. Spotts,
and then Identified Brotherson as the
man whose window fronted hers from
the opposite tenement, a diversion
might have been created and the out-
come been different. But 1 feared the
experiment. I’m not sufficiently In
with the chief as yet, nor yet with
the Inspector. They might not have
called me a fool—you may; but that’s
different—and they might have lis-
tened, but It would doubtless have
been with an air I could not have held
up against, with that fellow's eyes
fixed mockingly on mine. For he and
1 are pitted for a struggle, and I do
not want to give him the advantage
er even a momentary triumph. He's
the most complete master of himself
of any man 1 ever met, and It will
Jake the united brain and resolution
pf the whole force to bring him to
book—if he ever is brought to book,
which I doubt. What do you think
about It?"
"That you have given me an anti-
dote against old age,” was the ringing
and unexpected reply, as the thought-
ful, half-puzzled aspect of the old man
yielded impulsively to a burst of his
early enthusiasm. "If wo can get a
good grip on the thread you speak of,
and can work ourselves along by It,
though It be by no more than inch
jt a time, we Bhall yet make our way
Ihrough this labyrinth of undoubted
crime and earn for ourselves a tri-
umph which wilt make some of these
raw und inexperienced young fellows
Villain’s
Heart,
"Our first difficulty is this. We
must prove motive. Now, I do not
think it will be so very hard to show
Ihat tills Brotherson cherished feel-
ings of revenge towards Miss Chal-
loner. But I have to acknowledge
right here and now that the most skil-
ful and vigorous pumptng of the jani-
tor and such other tenants of the
Hicks street tenement as 1 have dared
to approach, fails to show that he has
ever held any communication with
Mrs. Spotts, or even knew of her ex
istence until her remarkable death at-
tracted his attention.”
“Humph! We will set that down,
then, as so much against us.”
"The next, and this is a bitter pill
too, is the almost insurmountable dif-
ficulty already recognized of determin-
ing how a man. without approaching
his victim, could manage to inflict a
mortal stab in her breast. No cloak
of complete invisibility has yet been
found, even by the cleverest criminals.
But there's an answer to everything
and I’m sure there’s an answer to this.
Remember his business. He's an in-
ventor, with startling ideas. Oh, I
know that I am prejudiced; but wait
and see! Miss Challoner was well rid
of him even at the cost of her life."
"She loved him. Even her father be-
lieves that now. Some lately discov-
ered letters have come to light to
prove that she was by no means so
heart free as he supposed. One of
her friends, It seems, has also con-
fided to him Ihat once, while she and
Miss Challoner wore sitting together, Hicks street."
she caught Miss Challoner in the ael
of scribbling capitals over a sheet of
paper. They were all 11.'s with the
exception of here and there a nearly
’’But that is all there Is to It,” he i
easily proceeded. "I knew Miss Chal
Ion r and I have already said how
much and how little I had to do with
her death. The other woman I did noi
know at all; I did not even know her
name. A prosecution based on grounds
so flimsy as those you advance would
savor of persecution, would it not?'
The inspector, surprised by this U"
expected attack, regarded the speak
er with an interest rather augmented I
than diminished by his boldness. The
smile with which he had uttered these
concluding words yet lingered on his
lips, lighting up features of a mold too
suggestive of command to be assort
ated readily with guilt. That the Im-
pression thuB produced was favor
able, was evident from the tone of the
inspector’s reply:
“We have said nothing about prose-
cution, Mr. Brotherson. We hope to
avoid any such extreme measures. |
and that we may the more readily do
so, we have given you this opportun- j
ity to make such explanations as the |
situation, which you yourself have 1
characterized ns remarkable, seems to J
call for.”
"1 am ready. But what am I called ]
upon to explain? 1 really cannot see,
sir." ■»
"You can tell us why with your
seeming culture and obvious means,
you choose to spend so much time in !
a second rate tenement like the one in ^
Hicks street."
Again that chill smile preceding the i
quiet answer:
“Have you seen my room there? It |
Is piled to the ceiling with books. I
When I was a poor man, I chose the
abode suited to my purse and my pas-
sion for first-rate reading. 1 have nev-
er seen the hour when 1 felt like mov-
ing that precious collection. Besides,
I am a man of the people. I have led
—I may say that I am leading—a dou-
ble life; but of neither am I ashamed,
nor have 1 cause to be. Love drove
me to ape the gentleman in the halls
of the Clermont; a brdad human inter-
est in the work of the world, to live
as a fellow among the mechanics of
1 could have the pleasure of seeing | game like this,
him eat them. When I came out of
the alley the small crowd had van-
ished, but a big one was collecting
up the street very near my home I
always think of my books when I see
anything suggesting Are, and natural-
ly I returned, and equally naturally,
when I heard what had happened, fol-
lowed the crowd into the court and so
up to the poor woman's doorway. But
my curiosity satisfied, 1 returned at
once to the street and went to New
York as I had planned.”
"Do you mind telling us where you
went in New York?"
“Not at all. I went shopping. I
wanted a certain very fine wire, for
an experiment I had on hand, and 1
found It in a little shop on Fourth
avenue. If I remember rightly, the
name over the door was Grippus. Its
oddity struck me.”
There was nothing left to the In-
spector but to dismiss him. He had
answered all questions willingly, and
with a countenance inexpressive of
guile. He even indulged in a parting
shot on his own account, as full of
frank acceptance of the situation as it
was fearless in its attack. As he halt-
ed in the doorway before turning his
back upon the room, he smiled for the
third time as he quietly said:
"I have ceased visiting my friend's
apartment In upper New York. If you
ever want me again, you will find me
amongst my books."
He was half-way out the door, but
his name quickly spoken by the in-
spector drew him back.
"Anything more?” he asked.
The inspector smiled.
“You are a man of considerable
analytic power, as I take it, Mr. Broth-
erson. You must have decided long
ago how this woman died."
“Is that a question, inspector?”
“You may take it as such.”
"Then I will allow myself to say
that there is but one common-sense
view to take of the matter. Miss
Challoner's death was due to suicide;
so was that of the washerwoman. But
there 1 stop. As for the means-the , ^ ^ tenement. th# janltor there
.. nnl/l roorvirn i 70
motive—such mysteries may
Before I’m done with
him, he’ll look me full in the face
and wonder if he’s ever seen me be-
fore. I wasn’t always a detective. I
was a carpenter once, as you know,
and I'll take to the tools again. As
soon as I’m handy with them I'll hunt
up lodgings in Hicks street. He may
suspect me at first, but he won't long;
I'll be such a confounded good work-
man. 1 only wish I hadn’t such pro-
nounced features. I want to deceive
him to his face. He’s clever, this
same Brotherson, and there's glory to
be got in making a fool of him. Do
you think it could be done with a
beard? I’ve never worn a beard.
While I’m settling back into my old
trade, I can let the hair grow.”
"Sweetwater! We'd better give the
task to another man—to some one
Brotherson has never seen and won't
be suspicious of?"
“He'll be suspicious of everybody
who tries to make friends with him
now; only a little more so with me;
that’s all. But I’ve got to meet that,
and I’ll do it by being, temporarily, of
course, exactly the man I seem. My
health will not be good for the next
few weeks, I'm sure of that. But I’ll
be a model workman, neat and con-
scientious with just a suspicion of
dash where dash is needed. He knows
the real thing when he sees it, and
there’s not a fellow living more alive
to shams. I won’t be a sham. I’ll be
it. You'll see.”
“But the doubt. Can you do all this
in doubt of the issue?"
“No; I must have confidence In the
end, and I must believe in his guilt.
Nothing else will carry ine through. I
must believe in his guilt.”
“Yes, that's essential.”
"And I do. I never was surer of
anything than I am of that. But I’ll
have the deuce of a time to get evi-
dence enough for a grand jury. That's
plainly to be seen, and that’s why I’m
so dead set on the business. It's such
an even toss-up."
“I don’t call it even. He’s got the
start of you every way. You can't go
Ifuf wTiy make use of one name as in your province hut they are totally
a gentleman of leisure and quite a dif- j outside mine! God help us all! The
ferent one as the honest workman?" j world is full of misery. Again I wish
"Ah, there you touch upon my real you good-day.
turned O, and when her friend twitted
her with her fondness for these two
letters, and suggested a pleasing
monogram, Miss Challoner answered,
‘0 B. (transferring the letters, ns you
see) are the Initials of the finest man
In the world.’ ’’
"Gosh! Has he heard this story?”
”1 don’t think so. It was told me In
confidence."
“Told you, Mr. Gryce? Pardon my
curiosity."
“By Mr. Challoner."
"Oh! by Mr. Challoner.”
"He Is greatly distressed at having
the disgracef.il suggestion of suicide
attached to his daughter's name. He
sent for ine in order to inquire if any-
thing could be done to reinstate her
in public opinion. He evidently does
not like Brotherson either."
“And what—what did you—say?”
asked Sweetwater, with n halting ut-
terance and his face full of thought.
"I simply quoted the latest author-
ity on hypnotism, that no person even
111 hypnotic sleep could be Influenced
by another to do what was antagonis-
tic to his natural instincts."
"Latest authority. That doesn’t
mean a final one. Supposing that it
was hypnotism! But that wouldn't
account for Mrs. Spotts' death. Her
wound certainly was not a self-inflict-
ed one."
“How can you be sure?"
“There was no weapon found In the
room, or in ihe court. The snow was
searched and the children too. No
weapon, Mr Gryce, not even a paper-
cutter. Besides—but how did Mr.
Challoner take what you said? Was
lie satisfied with this assurance?"
“He had to be. I didn't dare to hold
out any hope based on so unsuDstan-
tial a theory. But the Interview had
this effect upon me. If the possibility
remains of fixing guilt elsewhere than
on Miss Challoner's Inconsiderate im-
pulse, 1 am ready to devote any
amount of time and strength to the
work To see this grieving father re-
lieved from the worst part of his bur-
den is worth some effort and now you
know why i have listened so eagerly
to you. Sweetwater, I will go with
you to the -superintendent. We may
not gain Ids attention and again we
may. If we don’t—but we won’t cross
that bridge prematurely. When will
you be ready for this business?"
"I must be at headquarters tomor-
row."
“Good, then let it be tomorrow. A
taxicnb, Sweetwater. The subway for
the young. 1 can no longer manage
the stairs."
CHAPTER XIV.
A Concession.
“It is true; there seems to be some-
thing extraordinary in the coinci-
dence."
Thus Mr. Brotherson, In the pres-
ence of the Inspector.
secret. I have a reason for keeping
my identity quiet till my invention is
completed.”
"A reuson connected with your an-
archistic tendencies?”
"Possibly.” But the word was ut-
tered in a way to carry little convic-
,11
Il2i
L
ji
m
Em
E2“
“Gryce, You Shall Have Your Way.” j
tion. “I am not much of an anar-
chist,” he now took the trouble to de-
clare, with a careless lift of his shoul-
ders.
"We are glad to hear it, Mr. Dunn.
Physical overthrow carries more than
the immediate sufferer with it."
"We have no wish," continued the
inspector, "to probe too closely into
concerns seemingly quite removed
from the main issue. You will prob-
ably be anxious to explain away a dis-
crepancy between your word and
your conduct, which has come to our
attention. You were known to have
expressed the Intention of spending
the afternoon of Mrs. Spotts' death in
New York and were supposed to have : self by this venture
done so, yet you were certainly seen
in the crowd which invaded that rear
building at the first alarm. Are you
conscious of possessing a double, or
did you fall to cross the river as you
expected to?"
“1 am glad this has come up.” The
tone was one of self-congratulation
which would have shaken Sweetwater
sorely had he been admitted to this
unofficial examination. "I did mean to
go to New York and 1 even started on
my walk to the bridge at the hour
mentioned. But I got into a small
crowd on the corner of Fulton street,
In which a poor devil who had robbed
a vendor’s cart of a few oranges, was
being hustled about. There was no
policeman within sight, and so I
busied myself there for a minute pay-
ing for the oranges and dragging the
poor wretch away into an alley, where
The air seemed to have lost Its vi-
tality and the sun its sparkle when he
w-as gone.
“Now, what do you think, Gryce?”
The old man rose and came out of
his corner.
"This: That I’m up against the hard-
est proposition of my lifetime. Noth-
ing in the man’s appearance or man-
ner evinces guilt, yet 1 believe him
guilty. I must. Not to, is to strain
probability to the point of breakage.
But how to reach him is a problem
and one of no ordinary nature. If he
is not innocent as the day, he’s as
hard as unquarried marble. He might
be confronted with reminders of his
crime at every turn without weaken-
ing or showing by loss of appetite or
interrupted sleep any effect upon his
nerves. That’s my opinion of the gen-
tleman. He is either that, or a man
' r.t uncommon force and self-restraint.”
”J'm inclined to believe him the lat-
| ter."
"And so give the whole matter the
! go-by ?’’
"What do you want? You say the
I mine is unworkable."
“Yes, in a day, or In a week, pos-
| sibly in a month. But persistence and
: a protean adaptability to meet his
| moods might accomplish something,
j I don’t say will, 1 only say might, if
Sweetwater had the job, with unlim-
ited time in which to carry out any
plan he may have, or even for a
change of plans to suit a changed idea,
success might be his, and both time,
effort and outlay justified."
"The outlay? 1 am thinking of the
outlay.”
"Mr. Challoner will see to that. I
have his word that no reasonable
amount will daunt him."
"But this Brotherson Is suspicious.
He has an inventor’s secret to hide, if
none other. We can’t saddle him with
a guy of Sweetwater's appearance and
abnormal loquaciousness."
"Not readily, I own. But time will
bring counsel. Are you willing to help
the boy, to help me and possibly your-
ln the dark? The
department shan't loBe money by it;
that’s all I can promise."
"But It's a big one. Gryce, you shall
have your way. You’ll be the only
loser if you fall; and you will fail;
take my word for It.”
“I wish I could speak as confidently
to-the contrary, but I can’t. I can give
you my hand though, inspector, and
Sweetwater's thanks. I can meet the
boy now. An hour ago I didn't know
how 1 was to do it.”
would recognize you even if he didn’t.”
“Now I will give you n ... *•' ood
news. They’re to have a new jani-
tor next week. I Named that yester-
day. The present fils is too easy.
He’ll be out long before I’m ready to
show myself there; and so will the
woman who took care of the poor
washerwoman’s little child. I’d not
have risked her curiosity. Luck isn’t
all against us. How does Mr. Challon-
er feel about It?”
"Not very confident; but willing to
give you any amount of rope. Sweet-
water, he let me have a batch of let-
ters written by his daughter which he
foynd in a secret drawer. They are
not to be read, or even opened, unless
a great necessity arises. They were
written for Brotherson’s eye—or so
the father says—hut she never sent
them; too exuberant perhaps. If you
ever want them—I cannot give them
to you tonight, and wouldn't if I could
—don’t go to Mr. Challoner—you
must never be seen at his hotel—and
don’t come to me, but to the little
house in West Twenty-ninth street,
where they will be kept for you, tied
up in a package with your name on it.
By the way, what name are you going
to work under?”
"My mother’s—Zugg.”
"Good! I’ll remember. You can al-
ways write or even telephone to Twen-
ty-ninth street. I’m In constant com-
munication with them there, and It's
quite safe.”
"Thanks. You’re sure the superin-
tendent is with me?”
"Yes, but not the inspector. He
sees nothing but the victim of a
strange coincidence in Orlando Broth-
erson."
“Again the scales hang even. But
they won’t remain so. One side is
bound to rise. Which? That’s the
question, Mr. Gryce.”
CHAPTER XVI.
CHAPTER XV.
That's the Question.
many times has he
seen
"How
you ?"
"Twice."
“That’s unfortunate.”
"Damned unfortunate; but one must
expect some sort of a handicap in a
Opposed.
There was a new tenant in the
Hicks street tenement. He arrived
late one afternoon and was shown
two rooms, one in the rear building
and another in the front one. Both
were on the fourth floor. He de-
murred at the former, thought It
gloomy but finally consented to try it.
The other, he said, was too expensive.
The janitor—new to the business—
was not much taken with him and
showed it, which seemed to offend the
newcomer, who was evidently an Ir-
ritable fellow owing to til health.
However, they came to terms as I
have said, and the man went away,
promising to send in his belongings
the next day. He smiled as he said
this and the janitor who had rarely
seen such a change take place in a
human face, looked uncomfortable
for a moment and seemed disposed to
make some remark about the room
they were leaving. But, thinking bet-
ter of it, locked the door and led the
way downstairs. As the prospective
tenant followed, ho may have noticed,
probably did, that the door they had
just left was a new one—the only new
thing to be seen in the whole shabby
place.
The next night that door was locked
on the Inside. The young man had
taken possession. As he put away
the remnants of a meal he had cooked
for himself, he cast a look at his sur-
roundings, and imperceptibly sighed.
Then he brightened again, and sitting
down on his solitary chair, he turned
his eyes on the window which, uncur-
tained and without shade, stared open-
mouthed, as it were, at the opposite
wall rising high across the court.
In that wall, one window only
seemed to Interest him and that was
on a level with his own. The shade
of this window was up, but there was
no light back of It and so nothing of
the interior could be seen. But his
eye remained fixed upon it, while his
hand, stretched out towards the lamp
burning near him, held itself in readi-
ness to lower the light at a minute’s
notice.
Did he see only the opposite wall
and that unillumlned window? Was
there no memory of the time when,
in a previous contemplation of those
dismal panes, he beheld stretching be-
tween them and himself, a long, low
bench with a plain wooden tub upon
it, from which a dripping cloth beat
out upon the boards beneath a dismal
note, monotonous as the ticking of a
clock?
One might judge that such memo-
ries were indeed his, from the rapid
glance he cast behind him at the
place where the' bed had stood in
those days. It was placed differently
now.
But if he saw, and If he heard these
suggestions from the past, he was not
less alive to the exactions of the pres-
ent, for, as his glance flew back across
the court, his finger suddenly moved
and the flame it controlled sputtered
and went out. At the same Instant,
the window opposite sprang Into view'
as the lamp was lit within, and for
several minutes the whole interior re-
mained visible—the books, the work-
table, the cluttered furniture, and,
most interesting of all, Its owner and
occupant. It was upon the latter .‘.hat
the newcomer fixed his attention, and
with an absorption equal to that he
saw expressed In the countenance op-
posite.
But his was the absorption of
watchfulness; that of the other of In-
trospection. Mr. Brotherson—(we
will no longer call him Dunn even
here where he is known by no other
name)—had entered the room clad In
his heavy overcoat and, not having
taken it off before lighting his lamp,
still stood with It on, gazing eagerly
down at the model occupying the
place of honor on the large center
table. He was not touching it—not
at this moment—but that his thoughts
were with tt, that his whole mind was
concentrated on it, was evident to tho
watcher across the court; and, as this
watcher took in this fact and noticed
the loving care with which the enthu-
siastic inventor finally put out his fin-
ger to rearrange a thread or twirl a
wheel, his disappointment found utter-
ance in a sigh which echoed sadly
through the dull and cheerless room.
Had he expected this stern and self-
contained man to show an open in-
difference to work and the hopes of
a lifetime? If so, this was the first
of the many surprises awaiting him.
He was gifted, however, with the
patience of an automaton and contin-
ued to watch his fellow tenant as long
as the latter’s Bhade remained up.
When it fell, he rose and took a few
steps up and down, but not with the
celerity and precision which usually
accompanied his movements. Doubt
disturbed his mind and impeded his
activity. He had caught a fair glimpse
of Brotherson’s face as he approached
the window, and though It continued
to show abstraction, it equally dis-
played serenity and a complete sat-
isfaction with the present If not with
the future. Had he mistaken his man
after all? Was his instinct, for the
first time in his active career, who'- ’
at fault?
He had succeeded in getting
glimpse of his quarry in the privac
of his own room, at home with h
thoughts and unconscious of any es
ptonage, and how had he found him
Cheerful, and natural In all his move-
ments.
But the evening was young. Retro-
spect comes with later and more lone-
ly hours. There will be opportunities
yet for studying this impassive coun-
tenance under much more telling and
productive circumstances than these.
He would await these opportunities
with cheerful anticipation. Mean-
while, he would keep up the routine
watch he had planned for this night.
Something might yet occur. At all
events he would have exhausted the
situation from this standpoint.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
V
-
Maps Antedate Columbus.
It is said that there are well-authe
ticated maps showing the coasts <
Florida and Cuba, one dated 1414 an , '
the other 1492, before the return il
Christopher Columbus from Americ *
1
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Putnam, H. R. Putnam's Pastime (Asher, Okla.), Vol. 1, No. 9, Ed. 1 Monday, December 1, 1913, newspaper, December 1, 1913; Asher, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc859057/m1/4/: accessed April 24, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.