The Leavenworth Case By Anna K. Green - Chapters 36

Please join me while I read Chapter 36 from the story named "The Leavenworth Case" by Anna Katharine Green. This is a 19.5-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 continue reading The Leavenworth Case by Anna Catherine Greene. 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 37, Gathered Threads. This is the short and the long of it. Merry Wives of Windsor. Promptly, At the hour named, I made my appearance at Mr. Grice's door. I found him awaiting me on the threshold. I have met you, " said he gravely, For the purpose of requesting you not to speak during the coming interview. I am to do the talking, You the listening. Neither are you to be surprised at anything I may say or do. I am in a facetous mood. " He did not look so. And may take into my head to address you by another name than your own. " if I do. Don't mind it. Above all, Don't talk. Remember that. " And without waiting to meet my look of doubtful astonishment, He led me softly upstairs. The room in which I had been accustomed to meet him was at the top of the first flight. But he took me past that and to what appeared to be the Garrett story. Where, After many cautionary signs, He ushered me into a room of singularly strange and unpromising appearance. In the first place, It was darkly gloomy, Being lighted simply by a very dim and dirty skylight. Next, It was hideously empty, A pine table and two hardback chairs set face to face at each end of it, Being the only articles in the room. Lastly, It was surrounded by several closed doors with blurred and ghostly ventilators over their tops, Which, Being round, Looked like the blink eyes of a row of staring mummies. Spurious spot. And in the present state of my mind made me feel as if something unearthly or threatening lay crouched in the very atmosphere. Nor, Sitting there cold and desolate, Could I imagine that the sunshine glowed without. Or that life, Beauty, And pleasure paraded the streets below. Mr. Grice's expression, As he took a seat and beckoned me to do the same, May have had something to do with this strange sensation. It was so mysteriously and somberly expectant. I know, But folks with such matters before them mustn't be too particular as to the places in which they hold their consultations. " if they don't want all the world to know as much as they do. " Smith and he gave me an admonitory shake of his finger while his voice took a more distinct tone. I have done the business. The reward is mine. The assassin of Mr. Leavenworth is found and in two hours will be in custody. Do you want to know who it is? " Leaning forward with every appearance of eagerness and tone and expression, I stared at him in great amazement. Had anything new come to light? Any great change taken place in his conclusions? All this preparation could not be for the purpose of acquainting me with what I already knew. Yet he cut short my conjectures with a low, Expressive chuckle. It was a long chase, I tell you. Raising his voice still more. A tight go, A woman in the business too. But all the women in the world can't pull the wool over the eyes of Ebenezer Grice when he is on a trail, And the assassin of Mr. Leavenworth, And— Here his voice became actually shrill in his excitement. And of Henna Chester is found. Hush. He went on, Though he had neither spoken nor made any move. You didn't know Hannah Chester was murdered. Well, She wasn't in one sense of the word, But in another she was, And by the same hand that killed the old gentleman. How do I know this? Look here. This scrap of paper was found on the floor of her room. It had a few particles of white powder sticking to it. Those particles were tested last night and found to be. . . Poison. But you say the girl took it herself. That she was a suicide. You are right. She did take it herself. And it was a suicide. But who terrified her into this act of self-destruction? Why, The one who had the most reason to fear her testimony, Of course. But the proof, You say? Well, Sir, This girl left a confession behind her, Throwing the onus of the whole crime on a certain party believed to be innocent. This confession was a forged one, Known from three facts. First, That the paper of Pond which was written was unobtainable by the girl in the place where she was. Secondly, That the words used therein were printed in coarse, Awkward characters, Whereas Hannah, Thanks to the teaching of the woman under whose care she has been since the murder, Had learned to write very well. Thirdly, That the story told in the confession does not agree with the one related by the girl herself. Now, The fact of a forced confession throwing the guilt upon an innocent party, Having been found in the keeping of this ignorant girl, Killed by a dose of poison, Taken with the fact here stated, That on the morning of the day on which she killed herself, The girl received, From someone manifestly acquainted with the customs of the Leavenworth family, A letter large enough and thick enough to contain the confession folded, As it was when found, Makes it almost certain to my mind that the murderer of Mr. Leavenworth sent this powder and this so-called confession to the girl, Meaning her to use them precisely as she did, For the purpose of throwing off suspicion from the right track, And of destroying herself at the same time. For, As you know, Dead men tell no tales. He paused and looked at the dingy skylight above us. Why did the air seem to grow heavier and heavier? Why did I shudder in vague apprehension? I knew all this before. Why did it strike me then as something new? But who was this, You ask? Ah, That is the secret, That is the bit of knowledge which is to bring me fame and fortune. But secret or not, I don't mind telling you. " Lowering his voice and rapidly raising it again, The fact is, I can't keep it to myself. It burns like a new dollar bill in my pocket. Smith, My boy. The murderer of Mr. Leavenworth. " But stay. Who does the world say it is? " Whom do the papers point and shake their heads over? A woman. A young beautiful woman. Bewitching, Woman! The papers are right. It is a woman. Young, Beautiful, And bewitching too. But what won? Ah, That's the question. There is more than one woman in this affair. Since Hannah's death, I have heard it openly advanced that she was the guilty party in the crime. Bah! Others cried as the niece who was so unequally dealt with by her uncle in his will. Bah! Again! But folks are not without some justification for this latter assertion. Eleanor Leavenworth did know more of this matter than appeared. Worse than that, Eleanor Leavenworth stands in a position of positive peril today. If you don't think so, Let me show you what the detectives have against her. First, There is the fact that a handkerchief, With her name on it, Was found stained with pistol grease upon the scene of murder. A place which she explicitly denies having entered for 24 hours previous to the discovery of the dead body. Secondly, The fact that she not only evinced terror when confronted with this bit of circumstantial evidence, But manifested a decided disposition, Both at this time and others, To mislead inquiry. Shirking a direct answer to some questions and refusing all answers to others. Thirdly, That an attempt was made by her to destroy a certain letter evidently relating to this crime. Fourthly, That the key to the library door was seen in her possession. All this, Taken with the fact that the fragments of the letter, Which this same lady attempted to destroy within an hour after the inquest, Were afterwards put together, And were found to contain a bitter denunciation of one of Mr. Leavenworth's nieces, By a gentleman we will call X. In other words, An unknown quantity makes out a dark case against you. Especially after investigations revealed the fact that a secret underlay the history of the Leavenworth family, That, Unknown to the world at large, And Mr. Leavenworth in particular, A marriage ceremony had been performed a year before, In a little town called F, Between a Miss Leavenworth and this same X. That, In other words, The unknown gentleman who, In the letter partly destroyed by Miss Eleanor Leavenworth, Leavenworth, Complained to Mr. Leavenworth of the treatment received by him from one of his nieces, Was in fact the secret husband of that niece. And that, Moreover, This same gentleman, Under an assumed name, Called on the night of the murder at the house of Mr. Leavenworth and asked for Miss Elinor. But now you see, With all this against her, Eleanor Leavenworth is lost if it cannot be proved. First, That the articles testifying against her, Viz. The handkerchief, Letter, And key passed after the murder through other hands before reaching hers, And secondly, That someone else had even a stronger reason than she for desiring Mr. Leavenworth's death at this time. Both of these hypotheses have been established by me. By dint of mulling into old secrets and following unpromising clues, I have finally come to the conclusion that not Elinor Leavenworth, Dark as are the appearances against her, But another woman beautiful as she and fully as interesting. Is the true criminal. In short, That her cousin, The exquisite Mary, Is the murderer of Mr. Leavenworth, And by inference of Hannah Chester also. He brought this out with such force, And with such a look of triumph and appearance of having led up to it, That I was for the moment dumbfounded and started as if I had not known what he was going to say. The stir I made seemed to awake an echo. Something like a suppressed cry was in the air about me. All the room appeared to breathe horror and dismay. When in the excitement of this fancy I have turned round to look. I found nothing but the blank eyes of those dull ventilators staring upon me. You are taken aback. Mr. Grice went on. I don't wonder. Everyone else is engaged in watching the movements of Eleanor Leavenworth. I only know where to put my hand upon the real culprit. You shake your head. Another fiction. You don't believe me. Think I am deceived. Ebenezer Grice deceived after a month of hard work. You are as bad as Miss Leavenworth herself, Who has so little faith in my sagacity that she offered me of all men. " An enormous reward if I could find for her the assassin of her uncle. But that is neither here nor there. You have your doubts and you are waiting for me to solve them. Well, Nothing is easier. Know first that on the morning of the inquest, I made one or two discoveries not to be found in the records, Vis-à-vis that the handkerchief picked up, As I have said, In Mr. Lemonworth's library, Had notwithstanding its stains of pistol grease. I decided perfume lingering about it. Going to the dressing-table of the two ladies, I sought for that perfume, And found it in Mary's room, Not Elinor's. This led me to examine the pockets of the dresses respectively worn by them the evening before. In that of Elinor I found a handkerchief. Presumably the one she had carried at that time. But in Mary's there was none. Nor did I see any lying about her room as if tossed down on her retiring. The conclusion I drew from this was, That she, And not Mary, Was in Elinor's room when the basket of clean clothes was brought up, With this handkerchief lying on top. But, Knowing the liability, We are to mistake in such matters as these. I made another search in this library and came across a very curious thing. Lying on the table was a penknife. And scattered on the floor beneath in close proximity to the chair were two or three minute portions of wood freshly chipped off from the leg of the table, All of which looked as if someone of a nervous disposition had been sitting there. Whose hand in a movement of self-forgetfulness had caught up the knife and unconsciously whittled the table. A little thing you say. But when the question is, Which of the two ladies, One of a calm and self-possessed nature, The other, Restless in her ways and excitable in her disposition, Was in a certain spot at a certain time, It is these little things that become almost deadly in their significance. No one who has been with these two women an hour can hesitate as to whose delicate hand made that cut in Mr. Leavenworth's library table. But we are not done. I distinctly overheard Elinor accuse her cousin of this deed. Now, Such a woman as Eleanor Leavenworth has proved herself to be never would accuse a relative of crime without the strongest and most substantial reasons. First, She must have been sure her cousin stood in a position of such emergency that nothing but the death of her uncle could release her from it. Secondly, That her cousin's character was of such a nature she would not hesitate to relieve herself from a desperate emergency by the most desperate of means. And lastly, Been in possession of some circumstantial evidence against her cousin, Seriously corroborative of her suspicions. Smith, All this was true of Eleanor Leavenworth. As to the character of her cousin, She has had ample proof of her ambition, Love of money, Caprice and deceit. It having been Mary Leavenworth, And not Elinor, As was first supposed, Who had contracted the secret marriage already spoken of. Of the critical position in which she stood, Let the threat once made by Mr. Leavenworth to substitute her cousin's name for hers in his will, In case she had married this X, Be remembered. As well as the tenacity with which Mary clung to her hopes of future fortune, While for the co-operative testimony of her guilt in which Elinor supposed to have had, Remember that previous to the key having been found in Elinor's possession, She had spent some time in her cousin's room, And that it was at Mary's fireplace the half-burnt fragments of that letter were found. And you have the outline of a report which, In an hour's time from this, Will lead to the arrest of Mary Leavenworth as the assassin of her uncle and benefactor. A silence ensued which, Like the darkness of Egypt, Could be felt. Then a great and terrible cry rang through the room, And a man's form, Rushing from I knew not where, Shot by me and fell at Mr. Grice's feet, Shrieking out. It is a lie. A lie. Mary Leavenworth is as innocent as a babe unborn. I am the murderer of Mr. Leavenworth. I, I, I! " It was Truman Harwell. That concludes Chapter 36, Gathered Threads, From the story The Leavenworth Case, By Anna Catherine Green. Thank you so very much for listening, I hope that you continue to enjoy this story, Become relaxed and possibly fallen asleep.