The Leavenworth Case By Anna K. Green - Chapters 34

Please join me while I read Chapter 34 from the story named "The Leavenworth Case" by Anna Katharine Green. This is a 37.5-minute story, accompanied by an additional 5 minutes of ambient music.

The story: In a quiet New York mansion, the night air grows still — and a single secret changes everything. Within the grand Leavenworth home, every glance, every pause, carries meaning. A respected man is found dead, and those who loved him most are left to face the delicate unraveling of truth.

As Detective Gryce listens and observes, hidden motives surface like ripples in calm water. The story moves slowly, gently, through layers of trust and deception — reminding us that every mystery begins not in chaos, but in silence.

Let this classic tale invite you to rest in the rhythm of curiosity and calm — where the search for truth becomes an act of stillness.

Transcript

Welcome to Restful Journeys. In this track I will be reading chapter 34 from the story The Leavenworth Case. Please find a comfortable place to sit or lie down and relax. Take a few moments to clear your mind and allow yourself to listen to these words. Let's continue with chapter 34, Mr. Grice Resumes Control. It out-herods Herod, Hamlet, A thing devised by the enemy, Richard the Third. A half-hour had passed. The train upon which I had every reason to expect Mr. Grice had arrived, And I stood in the doorway awaiting, With indescribable agitation, The slow and labored approach of the motley crew of men and women whom I had observed leave the depot at the departure of the cars. Would he be among them? Would the telegram of a nature preemptory enough to make his presence here, Sick as he was, An absolute certainty? The written confession of Hannah throbbing against my heart, A heart all elation now, As but a short half-hour before it had been all doubt and struggle, Seemed to rustle distrust, And the prospect of a long afternoon spent in impatience was rising before me, When a portion of the advancing crowd turned off into a side street and I saw the form of Mr. Grice hobbling, Not on two sticks, But very painfully on one, Coming slowly down the street. His face, As he approached, Was a study. Well, Well, Well! He exclaimed as we met at the gate. This is a pretty howdy-do, I must say. Hannah dead, Eh? And everything turned topsy-turvy. Hmph! And what of you think of Mary Leavenworth now? It would therefore seem natural, In the conversation which followed his introduction into the house, An installment in Mrs. Belden's parlor, That I should soon begin my narration by showing him Hannah's confession, But it was not so. Whether it was that I felt anxious to have him go through the same alterations of hope and fear it had been my lot to experience since I came to Arr, Or whether, In the depravity of human nature, There lingered within me sufficient resentment for the persistent disregard he had always paid to my suspicions of Henry Clavering, To make it a matter of moment to me to spring this knowledge upon him, Just at the instant his own convictions seemed to have reached the point of absolute certainty, I cannot say. Enough that it was not till I had given him a full account of every other matter connected with my stay in this house, Not till I saw his eye beaming and see his lip quivering with excitement incident upon the perusal of my letter from Mary, Found in Mrs. Belden's pocket, Not, Indeed, Until I became assured from such expressions as, Tremendous, The deepest game of reason, Nothing like it since the Lafarge affair, That in another moment he would be uttering some theory or belief that once he heard would forever stand like a barrier between us, Did I allow myself to hand him the letter I had taken from under the dead body of Hannah. I shall never forget his expression as he received it. Good heavens! Cried he. What is this? A dying confession of the girl Hannah. I found it lying in her bed when I went up a half hour ago, To take a second look at her. Opening it, He glanced over it with an incredulous air that speedily, However, Turned to one of the utmost astonishment as he hastily perused it, And then stood turning it over and over in his mind, Examining it. A remarkable piece of evidence, I observed, Not without a certain feeling of triumph, Quite changes the aspect of affairs. Think so, He sharply retorted. Then, Whilst I stood staring at him in amazement, His manner was so different from what I expected, Looked up and said, You tell me that you found this in her bed, Whereabouts in her bed? Under the body of the girl herself? I returned. I saw one corner of it protruding from beneath her shoulders and drew it out. He came and stood before me. Was it folded or open when you first looked at it? Folded, Fastened up in this envelope. Showing it to him, He took it, Looked at it for a moment, And went on with his questions. This envelope has a very crumpled appearance, As well as the letter itself. Were they so when you found them? Yes, Not only so, But doubled up, As you see. Doubled up, You are sure of that? Folded, Sealed, And then doubled up as if her body had rolled across it while alive? Yes. No trickery about it? No look as if the thing had been insinuated there since her death? Not at all. I should rather say that to every appearance she held it in her hand when she lay down, Turning over, Dropped it, And laid upon it. Mr. Grice's eyes, Which had been very bright, Ominously clouded. Evidently he had been disappointed in my answers. Laying the letter down, He stood musing, But suddenly lifted it again, Scrutinizing the edges of the paper on which it was written, And, Darting me a quick look, Vanished with it into the shade of the window-curtain. His manner was so peculiar. I involuntarily rose to follow, But he waved me back, Saying, Amuse yourself with that box on the table which you had such an adieu over. See if it contains all we have a right to expect to find in it. I want to be by myself for a moment. Subduing my astonishment, I proceeded to comply with his request, But scarcely had I lifted the lid of the box before me when he came hurrying back, Flung the letter down on the table with an air of greatest excitement, And cried, Did I say there had never been anything like it since the Lafarge affair? I tell you there has never been anything like it in any affair. It is the rummest case on record, Mr. Raymond. And his eyes, And his excitement, Actually met mine for the first time in my experience of him. Prepare yourself for a disappointment. This pretending confession of Hannah's is a fraud. A fraud? Yes, Fraud, Forgery, What you will. The girl never wrote it. Amazed, Outraged almost, I bounded from my chair. How do you know that? I cried. Bending forward, He put the letter into my hand. Look at it, Said he. Examine it closely. Now tell me, What is the first thing you noticed in regard to it? Why, The first thing that strikes me is that the words are printed instead of written. Something which might be expected from this girl, According to all accounts. Well, They are printed on the inside of a sheet of ordinary paper. Ordinary paper? Yes. That is, A sheet of commercial note of the ordinary quality? Of course. But is it? Why, Yes, I should say so. Look at the lines. What of them? Oh, I see, They run up close to the top of the edge. Evidently the scissors have been used here. In short, It is a large sheet trimmed down to the size of a commercial note. Yes. And is that all you see? All but the words. Don't you perceive what has been lost by the means of this trimming down? No, Unless you mean the manufacturer's stamp in the corner. Mr. Grice's glance took meaning. But I don't see why the loss of that should be deemed a matter of any importance. Don't you? Not when you consider that by it we seem to be deprived of all the opportunity of tracing the sheet back to the quire of paper with which it was taken? No. Then you are more of an amateur than I thought. Don't you see that, As Hannah could have had no motive for concealing where the paper came from on which she wrote her dying words, This sheet must have been prepared by someone else? No, Said I. I cannot say that I see all that. Can't? Well, Then, Answer me this. Why would Hannah, A girl about to commit suicide, Care whether any clue was furnished in her confession, The actual desk, Drawer, Or quire of paper from which the sheet was taken, On which she wrote it? She shouldn't. Yet, Special pains have been taken to destroy that clue. But there is another thing. Read the confession itself, Mr. Raymond, And tell me what you gather from it. Why, Said I, After complying, That the girl, Worn out with constant apprehension, Has made up her mind to do away with herself, And that Henry Clavering—Henry Clavering—the interrogation was put with so much meaning. I looked up. Yes, Said I. Ah, I did not know that Mr. Clavering's name was mentioned there. Excuse me. His name is not mentioned, But a description is given so strikingly in accordance. Here Mr. Grice interrupted me. Does it not seem a little surprising to you that a girl like Hannah should have stopped to describe a man she knew by name? I started. It was unnatural, Surely. You believe Mrs. Belden's story, Don't you? Yes. Consider her accurate in her relation of what took place here a year ago. I do. Must believe, Then, That Hannah, The go-between, Was acquainted with Mr. Clavering and with his name? Undoubtedly. Then why didn't she use it? If her intention was, As she here professes, To save Eleanor Leavenworth from the false imputations which had fallen upon her, She would naturally take the most direct method of doing it. This description of a man whose identity she could have at once put beyond a doubt by the mention of his name in the work, Not of a poor, Ignorant girl, But of some person who, In an attempt to play the role of one, Has signally failed. But that is not all. Mrs. Belden, According to you, Maintains that Hannah told her, Upon entering the house, That Mary Leavenworth sent her here, But in this document she declares it to have been the work of Black Mustache. I know, But could they not have both been parties to the transaction? Yes, Said he. Yet it is always a suspicious circumstance when there is a discrepancy between the written and spoken declaration of a person. But why do we stand here fooling when a few words from this Mrs. Belden you talk so much about will probably settle the whole matter? A few words from Mrs. Belden, I repeated. I have had thousands from her today and find the matter no nearer settling than in the beginning. You have had, He said, But I have not. Fetch her in, Mr. Raymond. I rose. One thing, Said I, Before I go. What if Hannah had found the sheet of paper, Trimmed just as it is, And used it without any thought of the suspicions it would occasion? Ah, Said he, That is just what we are going to find out. Mrs. Belden was in a flutter of impatience when I entered the sitting room. When did I think the coroner would come, And what did I imagine this detective would do for us? It was dreadful waiting there alone for something. She knew not what. I calmed her down as well as I could, Telling her the detective had not yet informed me what he could do. Having some questions to ask her first, Would she come in to see him? She rose with alacrity. Anything was better than suspense. Mr. Grice, Who in the short interim of my absence had altered his mood from the severe to the beneficent, Received Mrs. Belden with just that show of respectful courtesy likely to impress a woman as dependent as she upon the good opinion of others. Ah, And this is the lady in whose house this very disagreeable event has occurred, He exclaimed, Partially rising in his enthusiasm to greet her. May I request you to sit, He asked. If a stranger may be allowed to take the liberty of inviting a lady to sit in her own house. It does not seem like my own house any longer, Said she, But in a sad rather than an aggressive tone. So much had his genial way imposed upon her. Little better than a prisoner here, Go and come, Keep silence or speak, Just as I am forbidden, And all because an unhappy creature, Whom I took in for the most unselfish of motives has chance to die in my house. Just so, Exclaimed Mr. Grice. It is very unjust, But perhaps we can write matters. I have every reason to believe we can. This sudden death ought to be easily explained. You say you had no poison in the house? No, Sir. And that the girl never went out? Never, Sir. And that no one else has ever been here to see her? No one, Sir. So that she could not have procured any such thing if she had wished? No, Sir. Unless, He added suavely, She had it with her when she came here? That couldn't have been, Sir. She brought no baggage, And as for her pockets, I know everything there was in it, For my look. And what did you find there? Some money and bills, More than you would have expected such a girl to have, Some loose pennies, And a common handkerchief. Well, Then, It is proved the girl didn't die of poison, There being none in the house. He said this in a so convinced a tone she was deceived. That is just what I've been telling Mr. Raymond. Giving me a triumphant look. Must have been heart disease, He went on. You say she was well yesterday? Yes, Sir, Or seem so. Though not cheerful. I did not say that. She was, Sir, Very. What, Ma'am, This girl? Giving me a look. I don't understand that. I should think her anxiety about those she had left behind in the city would have been enough to keep her from being very cheerful. So you would, Returned Mrs. Belden. But it wasn't so. On the contrary, She never seemed to worry about them at all. What, Not about Miss Eleanor, Who, According to the papers, Stands in so cruel a position before the world? But perhaps she didn't know anything about that. Miss Leavenworth's position, I mean. Yes, She did, For I had told her. I was so astonished I could not keep it to myself. You see, I had always considered Eleanor as one above reproach, And it so shocked me to see her name mentioned in the newspapers in such a connection that I went to Hannah and read the article aloud and watched her face to see how she took it. And how did she? I can't say. She looked as if she didn't understand, Asked me why I read such things to her, And told me she didn't want to hear anymore, That I had promised not to trouble her about this murder, And that if I continued to do so, She wouldn't listen. Hmm. And what else? Nothing else. She put her hands over her ears and frowned in such a sullen way I left the room. That was when? About three weeks ago. She has, However, Mentioned the subject since? No, Sir, Not once. What? Not asked what they were going to do with her mistress? No, Sir. She has shown, However, That something was preying on her mind? Fear, Remorse, Or anxiety? No, Sir, On the contrary. She has often appeared like one secretly elated. But, Exclaimed Mr. Grice, With another sidelong look at me, That was very strange and unnatural. I cannot account for it. Nor I, Sir. I used to try to explain it by thinking her sensibilities had been blunted, Or that she was too ignorant to comprehend the seriousness of what had happened. But as I learned to know her better, I gradually changed my mind. There was too much method in her gravity for that. I could not help seeing she had some future before her for which she was preparing herself. As, For instance, She asked me one day if I thought she could learn to play the piano. And I finally came to the conclusion that she had been promised money if she kept the secret entrusted to her. And was so pleased with the prospect that she forgot the dreadful past and all connected with it. At all events, That was the only explanation I could find for her general industry and desire to improve herself. Or for the complacent smiles I detected now and then, Stealing over her face when she didn't know I was looking. Not such a smile as crept over the countenance of Mr. Grice at that moment, I warrant. It was all this, " continued Mrs. Belden, Which made her death such a shock to me. I couldn't believe that so cheerful and healthy a creature could die like that, All in one night, Without anybody knowing about it. But wait one moment. Mr. Grice here broke in. You speak of her endeavors to improve herself. What do you mean by that? Her desire to learn things she didn't know. As for instance, To write and read writing. She could only clumsily print when she came here. I thought Mr. Grice would take a piece out of my arm. He gripped it so. When she came here, Do you mean to say that since she has been with you, She has learned to write? Yes, Sir. I used to set her copies and— Where are these copies? Broke in Mr. Grice, Subduing his voice to its most professional tone. And where are her attempts at writing? I'd like to see some of them. Can't you get them for us? I don't know, Sir. I always made it a point to destroy them as soon as they had answered their purpose. I don't like to have such things lying around. But I will go see. Do, Said he. And I will go with you. I want to take a look at things upstairs anyway. And, Heedless of his rheumatic feet, He rose and prepared to accompany her. This is getting very intense, I whispered as he passed me. The smile he gave me in reply would have made the fortune of a thespian Mephistopheles. Of the ten minutes of suspense which I endured in their absence, I say nothing. At the end of that time they returned with their hands full of paper boxes which they had flung down on the table. The writing paper of the household, Observed Mr. Grice. Every scrap and half sheet which could be found. But, Before you examine it, Look at this. And he held out a sheet of bluish foolscap, On which were written some dozen imitations of that time-worn copy, Be Good, And You Will Be Happy, With an occasional Beauty Fades Soon, And Evil Communications Corrupt Good Manners. What do you think of that? Very neat and very legible. That is Hannah's latest. The only specimens of her writing to be found. Not much like some scrawls we have seen, Eh? No. Mrs. Belden says this girl has known how to write as good as this for more than a week, Took great pride in it, And was continually talking about how smart she was. Leaning over, He whispered in my ear, This thing you have in your hands must have been scrawled some time ago, If she did it. Then aloud, But let us look at the paper she used to write on. Dashing open the covers of the boxes on the table, He took out the loose sheets lying inside, And scattered them out before me. One glance showed they were all of an utterly different quality from that used in the confession. This is all the paper in the house, Said he. Are you sure of that? I asked, Looking at Mrs. Belden, Who stood in sort of a maze before us. Wasn't there one stray sheet lying around somewhere, Full of scrap or something like that, Which you might have got a hold of and used without your knowing it? No, Sir, I don't think so. I had only these kinds. Besides, Hannah had a whole pile of paper like this in her room, And wouldn't have been apt to go hunting around after any stray sheets. But you don't know what a girl like that might do. Look at this one, Said I, Showing her the blank side of the confession. Couldn't a sheet like this have come from somewhere about the house? Examine it well. The matter is important. I have, And I say no. I never had a sheet of paper like that in my house. Mr. Grice advanced and took the confession from my hand. As he did so, He whispered, What do you think now? Many chances that Hannah got up this precious document. I shook my head, Convinced at last. But in another moment, Turned to him and whispered back. But if Hannah didn't write it, Who did? And how came it to be found where it was? That, Said he, Is just what is left for us to learn. And beginning again, He put question after question concerning the girl's life in the She could not have brought the confession with her, Much less received it from a secret messenger, Unless we doubted Mrs. Belden's word. The mystery seemed unimpenetrable, And I was beginning to despair of success. When Mr. Grice, With an askance look at me, Leaned towards Mrs. Belden and said, You received a letter from Miss Mary Leavenworth yesterday, I hear. Yes, Sir. This letter? He continued, Showing it to her. Yes, Sir. Now, I want to ask you a question. Was the letter, As you see it, The only content of the envelope in which it came? Wasn't there one for Hannah enclosed in it? No, Sir. There was nothing in my letter for her. But she had a letter herself yesterday. It came in the same mail with mine. Hannah had a letter? We both exclaimed. And in the mail? Yes, But it was not directed to her. It was, Casting me a look full of despair, Directed at me. It was only by a certain mark in the corner of the envelope that I knew. Good heavens! I interrupted. Where is this letter? Why didn't you speak of it before? What do you mean by allowing us to flounder about here in the dark when a glimpse of this letter might have set us right at once? I didn't think anything about it till this minute. I didn't know it was of importance. I. . . But I couldn't restrain myself. Mrs. Belden, Where is this letter? I demanded. Have you got it? No, Said she. I gave it to the girl yesterday. I haven't seen it since. It must be upstairs then. Let us take another look. And I hastened toward the door. You won't find it, Said Mr. Grice at my elbow. I have looked. There was nothing but a pile of burnt paper in the corner. By the way, What could that have been, He asked of Mrs. Belden. I don't know, Sir. She had anything to burn unless it was the letter. We will see about that, I muttered, Hurrying upstairs and bringing down the washbowl with its contents. If the letter was the one I saw in your hand at the post office, It was in a yellow envelope. Yes, Sir. Yellow envelopes burn differently from white paper. I ought to be able to tell the tinder made by the yellow envelope when I see it. Ah, The letter has been destroyed. Here is a piece of the envelope. And I drew it out of the heap of charred scraps. A small bit less burned than the rest and held it up. Then there is no use looking here for what the letter contained, Said Mr. Grice, Putting the washbowl aside. We will have to ask you, Mrs. Belden. But I don't know. It was directed to me, To be sure, But Hannah told me when she first requested me to teach her how to write that she expected such a letter. So I didn't open it when it came but gave it to her just as it was. You, However, Stayed by to see her read it? No, Sir. I was in too much of a flurry. Mr. Raymond had just come and I had no time to think of her. My own letter, Too, Was troubling me. But you surely asked her some questions about it before the day was out. Yes, Sir, When I went up with her tea things. But she had nothing to say. Hannah could be as reticent as anyone I ever knew when she was pleased. She didn't even admit it was from her mistress. Ah, Then you thought it was from Miss Leavenworth? Why, Yes, Sir. What else was I to think seeing that mark in the corner? Though, To be sure, It might have been put there by Mr. Clavering, She thoughtfully added. You say she was cheerful yesterday. Was she so after receiving this letter? Yes, Sir, As far as I could see. I wasn't with her long. The necessity I felt of doing something with the box in my charge, But perhaps Mr. Raymond has told you. Mr. Grice nodded. It was an exhausting evening and quite put Hannah out of my head. But— Wait, Cried Mr. Grice, Embeckoning me into a corner. He whispered, Now comes in that experience of cues. While you were gone from the house and before Mrs. Belden sees Hannah again, He has a glimpse of the girl bending over something in the corner of her room, Which may fairly well be the washbowl we found here, After which he sees her swallow it in the most lively way. A dose of something from a bit of paper. Was there anything more? No, Said I. Very well, Then, He cried, Going back to Mrs. Belden. But— But when I went upstairs to bed, I thought of the girl and, Going to her door, I opened it. The light was extinguished and she seemed to be asleep, So I closed it again and came out. Without speaking? Yes, Sir. Did you notice how she was lying? Not particularly. I saw her on her back, In something of the same position in which she was found this morning. Yes, Sir. And that is all you can tell us? Either from her letter or her mysterious death? All, Sir. Mr. Grice straightened himself up. Mrs. Belden, Said he. You know Mr. Clavering's handwriting when you see it? I do. And Miss Leavenworth's? Yes, Sir. Now, Which of these two was upon the envelope of the letter you gave Hannah? I couldn't say. It was a distinguished handwriting and might have been that of either. But I think, Well, That it was more like hers than his, Though it wasn't like hers either. With a smile, Mr. Grice enclosed the confession in his hand in the envelope which it had been found. You remember how large the letter was which you gave her? Oh, It was large, Very large, One of the largest sort. And thick? Oh, Yes, Thick enough for two letters. Large enough and thick enough to contain this. Laying the confession folded and enveloped as it was before her. Yes, Sir. Giving it a look of startled amazement. Large enough and thick enough to contain that. Mr. Grice's eyes, Bright as diamonds, Flashed around the room and finally settled upon a fly traversing my coat sleeve. Do you need to ask how? He whispered in a low voice. Where and from whom this so-called confession comes? He allowed himself one moment of silent triumph. Then rising, Began folding the papers on the table and putting them in his pocket. What are you going to do? I asked hurriedly approaching. He took me by the arm and led me across the hall into the sitting room. I am going back to New York. I am going to pursue this matter. I am going to find out from whom the poison came which killed this girl and by whose hand this vile forgery of a confession was written. But, Said I, Rather thrown off my balance by all this. Q in the corner will be here presently. Won't you wait to see them? No. Clues such as are given here must be followed while the trail is hot. I can't afford to wait. If I'm not mistaken, They have already come. I remarked as a tramping of feet without announcement that someone stood at the door. That is so. He assented, Hastening to let them in. Judging from common experience, We had every reason to fear that an immediate stop would be put to all proceedings on our part as soon as the coroner was introduced upon the scene. But happily for us and the interest at stake, Dr. Fink of R proved to be a very sensible man. He had only to hear a true story of the affair to recognize at once its importance and the necessity of the most cautious action in the matter. Further, By a sort of sympathy with Mr. Grice, All the more remarkable that he had never seen before him he expressed himself as willing to enter into our plans, Offering not only to allow us the temporary use of such papers as we desired but even undertaking to conduct the necessary formalities of calling a jury and instituting an inquest in such a way as to give us time for the investigations we proposed to make. The delay was therefore short. Mr. Grice was enabled to take the 6. 30 train for New York and I to follow on the 10 p. M. The calling of a jury, Ordering of an autopsy and final adjournment of the inquiry till the following Tuesday having all taken place in the interim. That concludes Chapter 34 Mr. Grice Resumes Control from the story The Leavenworth Case by Anna Catherine Green Thank you so much for listening. I hope that you continue to enjoy this story, Become relaxed and possibly fallen asleep.