Detective Fiction Weekly. Vol. 36, No. 4, October 20, 1928

They insisted that while he had, unquestionably, made a study of poisons, he was not unique in this respect; that he would hardly stoop to strike an enemy under cover of darkness, that a poisoner was the lowest form of murderer, and that Molineux, with murder in his heart would be far more apt to settle things with his fists. But why should Molineux wish to strike at Cornish? Their paths had not crossed for a year and the differences were by that time forgotten on both sides.

What gain was there to be had from Cornish’s death?

The statement from Frederick Stearns of Detroit, who said that he had received a letter signed with Cornish’s name asking for news of a certain Harpster, which was not, he knew, written in Cornish’s hand, had much weight when it was proved to be written on egg blue paper topped by three interlaced crescents.

Cornish swore that only two people knew that Harpster had ever worked for Steams, himself and Molineux.

Molineux was put on the stand and given a chance to swear that he had not been aware of Harpster’s connection with the Stearns Company in Detroit and he failed to take oath to that effect, saying that while he did not recall hearing it, he “might have known it.”

Then Cornish invited himself once more on the stand. He said that he could prove that Molineux had lied under oath when he said that he and Barnet were friendly and cited an instance or two to confirm his point.

“One day,” Cornish related, “I saw Barnet out of the club on his way to a yachting trip. He seemed anxious to go, but presently he was back again, bag and baggage.

“I asked him why he had changed his plans, and he said that he could not go aboard as Molineux was there. Does that look as if they were the best of friends?”

The Verdict

The worst blow to Molineux, however, was the action of Heckman, who took the stand and swore that Molineux had hired a box from him. Only then did the accused man lose his calm.

He sprang to his feet shouting.

“I never saw Heckman in New York before to-day,” he insisted; “I only saw him in Newark when some one brought him to my office to identify me. He didn’t know me then. Why should he suddenly decide to know me now?”

Tilings looked blacker and blacker for Molineux. Seven handwriting experts took the stand and gave as their opinion the belief that the same hand had written the address on the poison package as had written the admitted Molineux writing. They swore, too, that he had declined to write certain given sentences in vertical writing when they requested that he do so.

His own handwriting experts said nothing to remove the impression created by those who spoke for the State. Colonel Gardiner from the district attorney’s office spent two hours summing up the evidence. The jury left the room and in another two hours brought back their verdict.

“We find,” said the coroner’s jury, “that Katherine Adams came to her death on December 28, 1898, at 61 West Eighty-Sixth Street by cyanide of mercury, a poison administered by Harry S. Cornish, to whom said poison was sent through the mails in a bottle of bromo seltzer by Roland B. Molineux.”

The Writing Experts

His friends were in despair when they heard the action of the coroner’s jury. They rallied round the general who threw his entire fortune into the defense of his son.

It was nearly a year before the case came to trial. During this time his friends proved themselves friends indeed by their attitude, his lawyers worked indefatigably to clear up the matter of the address on the poison package.

They made fierce assaults upon the proceedings of the prosecution, and finally succeeded in having one indictment thrown out, that of including in the affair the matter of the Barnet mystery. Then another grand jury from an up-State Supreme Court refused to indict at all and dismissed the indictment on grounds of faulty procedure.

Molineux was free — but was promptly rearrested while leaving the courthouse on a charge of assault filed by Cornish. In July he was again indicted and the case went to trial.

General Molineux sat beside his son, anxious, weary, loyal; Mrs. Molineux, too, sat at her husband’s side, smiling, self-contained, non-committal.

The trial, which was notable for its great length and unprecedented expensiveness, opened by formally establishing the death of Mrs. Adams. Then the handwriting experts took the stand and held it for nearly a week at a cost to the State of thirty thousand dollars.

They talked about pen habits and showed the court that every writer has them and that when any one wishes to disguise his hand, the thing to do, obviously enough, is to omit the characteristics which are his habitually. This was why the address on the poison package looked nothing like the admitted writing of Molineux’s — on the face of it, and why, to an expert, they looked very much alike indeed.