The Eaton Democrat

THE MURDERER'S DOUBLE.

On the 23d of May, 1832, Mary Rand, the keeper of a huckster shop in the village of Houghton, in the county of Durham, England, arose early, as she was going to make some purchases in a neighboring town. It was just day-break as she opened the curtains of her bedroom and looked forth. Immediately in the rear of her house was the open country, and in the field adjoining her premises she observed a man digging. As this was no unusual sight, she paid no particular attention to it, but dressed and went about getting her breakfast. As she was engaged at the fire, a shadow crossed the window and she looked up. At the same moment a tall, strongly-built man presented himself at the doorway. Mrs. Rand started and gave a shout, the man stepped into the room, and seizing a knife which lay on the table, he said: "Curse you, be still: or I'll make a hole in you!" The woman dropped into a chair and smothered her alarm. "Where's your husband?" the man asked. "My husband has been dead five years," was the answer. "Who is there in the house with you?" the man inquired. "Only my two boys, twelve and fourteen, and they're up-stairs, fast asleep," the woman answered. "That's lucky for you," said the man; "come, bustle and get me some breakfast." The woman with much fear and trembling complied, and the man ate a hearty meal, and drank a quart of home brewed ale. When he was through he said: You get up early, mistress. But for the light in your window I should have missed a good breakfast. I happened to be near by, so I jumped the fence and called in to see you. The woman then for the first time identified her visitor as the man whom she had seen digging in the field behind the house. After a pause the man asked, "have you got any of your husband's clothes?" "Yes, I have," was the reply, "and won't part with them." "Would they fit me?" the man asked. "My husband was just your size," Mrs. Rand said. "Look here," said the man, taking up the knife from the table and toying with it; I want you to lend me a good suit of your husband's clothes, and I'll return it to-night. Don't say no," he added, "for then I'll have to make you." The woman, in great trepidation and fear, said she would have to go up stairs for the clothes, whereupon the man said he would accompany her. The clothes were procured, and the man insisted on the woman's remaining in the room while he removed his old worn garments and put on a suit of the dead Mr. Rand's. "Now," said he, "if any one asks who I am, you must say I am your husband's brother, just returned from sea." The woman then explained that she was going to town, whereupon the man said: "That's first-rate, and I'll go with you." The poor woman was greatly taken aback, but durst not decline, and having aroused her two boys, she left the small shop in their charge and started for town, accompanied by the man. When they reached the suburbs of the town the man suddenly disappeared, and that was all the woman saw of him. Mrs. Rand returned home the same afternoon, the village was in a fearful state of consternation. At eight o'clock that morning, Mr. Greene, who resided at Houghton Hall and owned property adjacent worth fifty thousand dollars a year, had been found in his bedroom murdered. The hall stood only about one hundred yards from a street known as the Quay, the village consisting of three thoroughfares in the form of an arrow head. Mr. Greene was a widower and childless; he was over fifty years of age, and was much respected for his simplicity of manners and generosity. Investigation showed that a wall over thirteen feet high, which shut off the garden from the quay, had been scaled, and the perpetrator of the crime had entered the house by climbing a laburnum tree whose branches extended almost to the window of Mr. Greene's bedroom on the second floor. He entered, it was thought, early in the evening, and concealed himself in the garden, and later on scrambled up to the second story window. Mr. Greene was found lying on the floor close by a desk, at which he had evidently been sitting when assaulted in the rear. A towel had been flung over his head and then his assassin had strangled him, as was evident from the marks on the dead man's throat. His desk had been rifled, but it was not known that any money, or anything of value had been taken, as nobody was cognizant of Mr. Greene's private affairs. When Mrs. Rand heard the story of the crime, her mysterious guest of the morning arose to her mind, and she could not help associating him with the murder of Mr. Greene. The fact of his digging in the field behind her house suggested the possibility of his having hidden away plunder. All the evening these things dwelt in her thoughts, and she was once on the point of communicating the whole story to the police. She hesitated, however, to do so from the dread of being mixed up in the dreadful affair, and finally resolved to keep the visit of the man and all connected with it a secret. The officers of the law had meanwhile scoured the neighborhood to discover the murderer, and in Sunderland, the town to which Mrs. Rand had gone with her unwelcome companion, it was ascertained that on the morning after the murder a man and woman had been seen to enter the town together, and soon afterward separate. A farm laborer residing in Herrington, a village half-way between Houghton and Sunderland, swore to having seen the same man and woman passing through the place at about seven o'clock on the morning of the day in question. Finally, a tollgate-keeper identified the woman as Mrs. Rand, and the authorities visited her house to make inquiries. In her fear she denied having been with the man, but in such a way as to excite suspicion that she was lying. Her house was searched and under the bed in her own room was found the clothing worn by her strange visitor, which he had exchanged for a suit of her husband's. The clothes were coarse and patched, and such as might have been worn by a lighterman or river laborer. In the pocket of the jacket was found a bundle of letters. These proved to be of the greatest possible value, for they were addressed to the murdered man, Mr. Greene, and were from a younger brother, asking for loans of money, and promising amendment of life. This discovery left no doubt in the minds of the authorities that the wearer of these clothes was the assassin of Mr. Greene. When Mrs. Rand learned that they had found the clothes, and that they contained letters evidently stolen from Mr. Greene, she was in a dreadful state of excitement, and begged to be allowed to make a statement. Then she told of the man's visit, as already narrated, and of his having been seen digging in the field. She pointed out the spot as nearly as she could, and after a short search a newly-disturbed mold was found. It was dug up, and a tin box containing several hundred pounds was discovered. Papers in it showed that it was the property of Mr. Greene. Renewed search was made for the man, but all to no purpose. Mrs. Rand was arrested, and was finally held to await the action of the grand jury, as accessory after the fact. She was tried, and, thanks to her previous good character, was acquitted. In the meantime the dead Mr. Greene's younger brother had taken possession of the hall as next of kin. He had not been at the family seat for twenty years, having, when a mere youth, seduced his own cousin, and been driven forth to live the life of a vagabond. Nothing had been heard of him for years, and it was generally believed that he was dead until the letters found in the clothes discovered in Mrs. Rand's house showed by their date that he was alive and in England. The new Squire lived a secluded life, and became remarkable for his abstemiousness. The cousin whom he had wronged was living in retirement on a pension granted by the deceased Squire, and his successor, six months after taking possession of the estate, sought to remedy the evil he had wrought by privately marrying the now mature woman and installing her mistress of the hall. The new couple lived in the greatest harmony, and within a twelve-month of their marriage an heir was born. They kept no company, and seldom went beyond the precinct of their own domain. In the second year of their married life they drove into Sunderland, and returning the same night, an accident happened to the carriage just as they were entering Houghton, and they had to wait until another vehicle was sent for to convey them home. The villagers were drawn from their houses by the exciting event, and among them was Mrs. Rand. The moment she beheld Squire Greene she exclaimed: "Good Lord! there is the man that I saw digging in the field, and that come into my house and made me get his breakfast, and then swopped his clothes for my husband's." These words were overheard by one Makepeace, a village constable, and repeated next day to the rector, who was magistrate. So much importance was attached to them that Mrs. Rand was sent for, and privately examined by the magistrates. She swore positively that Squire Greene was the man who paid her the mysterious visit, and accompanied her to Sunderland. There was but one thing to do-to arrest Squire Greene for the murder of his own brother. This was done, and Mrs. Rand's identification of him was complete. It will be remembered that when Mrs. Rand's strange visitor changed his clothes for her deceased husband's, he would not trust the woman out of his presence, but insisted that she should remain in the room. When he removed his shirt he remarked that he could see behind him, as he had two heads, at the same time pointing out a wen between his shoulders, which closely resembled a rudimentary head. On examination, Squire Greene was found to have an excrescence in the same place and precisely similar to that on the strange man, as described by Mrs. Rand. There was an attempt made to prove an alibi, but it was shown by the prosecution that at the time of the murder of the late Squire, his brother was living in the slums of a low street in Sunderland; that he disappeared for a day; and on his return was flush of money. He explained this by stating that he went to Houghton by appointment, met his brother the very evening before the murder, and received from him one hundred pounds to secure himself a decent outfit prior to his returning home to lead a new life. This story was not credited, and the Squire was tried and found guilty, and hanged at Durham. Two years or more after this, the widow Rand was at work early on a Monday morning, hanging out clothes in her garden. Suddenly the visit of the strange man years before, and the dreadful tragedy that followed with its awful sequel, arose in her mind, and she mechanically turned her eyes toward the spot where she had first seen the man digging in the field. Was she crazed or dreaming? There in the very place was the same man, digging as before! She entered the house, half fainting, and briefly told the story to her sons, who were now stalwart young men. They went into the garden, and there, sure enough, was the man. In two minutes they had their guns ready, and one of them passed round the hedge to the gate below where the man was, while the other took up a position near a low stone wall which cut off part of the field from an open lot. Both showed themselves at one time, and called out to the man. He started up and prepared to fly. In a moment the young men closed in on him, covering him with their weapons. When he saw he was hopelessly entrapped, he dropped to the ground, and allowed himself to be captured. As they led him through the street Mrs. Rand confronted him. He was the double of the man who had visited her the morning after the Squire's murder, and bore a striking resemblance to the late squire, who had been hanged as his brother's assassin, even to the wen which had made Mrs. Rand's identification fatal. The authorities were sorely perplexed, but the man admitted that he was the murderer of Squire Greene, and that he had come back in the hope of finding the money he had buried there the morning after the perpetration of his crime. He gave his name as John Sedley. He saved the county the trouble of hanging him by jumping from the top of the stage coach while crossing the bridge into Durham, and fracturing his skull against an abutment.