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The Split Guinea Feather Evanston electrical contractor. The contractor told them that Dillon had recently been in California. Of this he was certain for the reason that he had received a post -card from him mailed in Los Angeles about the ninth of May, in which Dillon had said he was coming back to Chicago in a few days and would want to go to work. Other cards were received from him dated at Los Angeles, Sacramento and San Francisco. Dillon had returned, and had been at work within the week. Moreover, he had told the contractor that he had just come from the Pacific coast. "Where had he lived?" they asked. "5420 Evanston avenue," the con tractor informed them. "No," another corrected, "he lived at 4621 Evanston." The detectives went to the first ad dress where they found Mrs. Dillon and her four children. Searching the house they discovered a woman's hand bag; it was bloody. Her husband, Mrs. Dillon said, had returned from the coast on Sunday, bringing it with him. She knew nothing more than that. "Let us go down to the other place," one of the detectives suggested. They went. Yes, Caiphias Dillon had lived there, but under the name of Jones. A woman had lived with him, and was known as Bessie Jones. She had gone to Norfolk, Va., where she had originally come from. This much was common gossip in the restaurants where the two had taken their meals. The detectives looked at each other wisely. They were nearing the end of their search; Bessie Jones, beyond all doubt, was the murdered woman. They telegraphed to Norfolk, to make cer tain of it. Back came a reply. A Bessie Jones lived there, but had left

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some time previous, to join Dillon in Chicago. The case was entirely clear now. Bessie Jones was harassing him; she had threatened to make trouble between him and his wife. He must get rid of her. So he had enticed her to Los Angeles, and had murdered her. They would gather up the few straggling ends and the case was com pleted. But they were mistaken. Two hours later a second telegram was received from Norfolk. Bessie Jones was alive, and at that moment in Norfolk. It is extremely trying to have to take up again a task you supposed had been finished, and work at it from another angle. But there was nothing else to do, in this instance, and so they did it. Or rather they stood ready while fate pointed the way. The captain of detectives was called to the telephone on the morning of May 19th. The newspapers that morn ing had printed a story identifying Dillon the suicide, as Dillon the bunga low murderer. "I think," said the voice on the telephone, "the name of the woman murdered at Los Angeles, was Quinn — Minnie Quinn." "Who is this talking?" cracked back the inquiry of the detective. It was a North Side physician speak ing. He had just read the story about Dillon. It had reminded him that a man named Dillon had sent a young woman to him for treatment. It was for the same cause found to exist in the woman murdered in the bungalow at Los Angeles, and that circumstance had awakened his suspicion. At last they were upon the right track. The North Side physician on being visited and further questioned, said the girl had told him her name and where she lived. She was a maid em ployed in Wilmette, and expected to