a .38? The calibre of the fatal bullets was
not generally known. And how did it “let
him out?” There had been no suspicion
directly levelled at him.

Lucas asked Stroebel to produce the re-
volver Porter had mentioned; the weapon
was handed over, a five chambered nondes-
cript revolver, .38 calibre. The Marshal
swung the cylinder out and squinted down
the chambers. Two shells had recently been
fired—there was rust in the other three
chambers.

“This gun has been recently fired,” said
Lucas quietly.

“Yes, took a couple of shots at a stump
about a week ago,” answered Stroebel.
“Was anyone with you at the time,”
asked the Marshal.

“Yes, Elizabeth Bartlett,” the youth re-
plied.

Lucas pocketed the revolver, saying he
would hold it for safe keeping. Stroebel
denied having any shells for it.

The story was checked with Elizabeth
Bartlett; yes, she had been with Al Stroebel
about two weeks ago when he fired two
shots at a stump on the outskirts of town.

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It was on a Sunday.
By this time it was late in the afternoon

of Friday, April 21st. The inquest would

open at 10.30 the next morning

POLICE CHECK ON SUSPECT

The two police officers were beginning
to see a little daylight but there was still
much to learn. They started an intensive
examination of young Stroebel’s background
and affairs.

His father was in Oklahoma City, Indian
Territory (Oklahoma was not yet a State.)
He had brothers and sisters, but there was
no trace of his mother. He had no proper
trade, but he had been trying to arrange
for the purchase of a small barber shop
from a man named Carpenter. He was to
pay for the business out of the proceeds of
a land deal his brother was putting through.
There was a curious feature about the
transaction that Moresby noticed. Carpen-
ter had mentioned that a hone was missing
from the stock, and Stroebel said the deal
was off. It seemed curious that a deal in-
volving $250.00 should he abruptly termi
nated over the small item of a razor hone.
Stroebel was $15 in arrears for board to
Mrs. Bartlett. Mrs. Bartlett said he was
often that much behind, and always settled.
The lad was very much in love with Eliza-
beth Bartlett and hoped to marry her. His
feeling in this direction were undoubtedly
reciprocated.

But—and this was a big but—if Stroebel
was looking for money to buy the barber
shop, and he had a hand in Marshall’s death,

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THE

SHOULDER STRAP

why didn’t he search the premises? In fact,
how did he know Marshall had money?
And as if in answer to this unspoken
question came elucidation. A boy named
Hilliard said that he and young Johnny
Bartlett had visited old Portugee John on
April 16th. They were laughing and joking
with the old man, and asked him why he
never married. The old man with a twinkle
in his eye was having his joke too, and told
them of a young woman in Portugal whom
he would one day marry—ana w suppurt
his argument he showed them a buckskin
bag full of twenty-dollar gold pieces.
Young Johnny Bartlett had mentioned

Judge Geo. A. Walkem.

—Photo courtesy Provincial Archives, Victoria, B. C.

the incident in Al Stroebel’s presence the
next day.

Now the threads were gathering into a
pattern — first Stroebel’s revolver, now
knowledge of the old man’s money. ut
why didn’t he take the money? Perhaps he
was disturbed?

And the only corroboration of Stroebel’s
statements came from Elizabeth Bartlett.
Was she telling the truth? Was there col-
lusion? She seemed to be too fine a type to
lend herself to the perjured tale of a mur-
derer.

“You know, Moresby,” said Lucas, “I’ve
got a hunch that Mrs. Bartlett knows some-
thing—there’s an odd look in ner cyes at
times.”

Impelled by detective’s instinct, hunch,
call it what you will, Lucas decided to keep
an eye on the Bartlett establishment that
evening.

The rain had ceased, and in the shadow
of a convenient building he took his stand.

Page Thirty-one