id:

"Mrs. Houghton, I am sorry that I must look to you and your sisters for
answers to the most delicate and trying questions relating to this
history. I refer to the death of your mother at the hand of Keseberg."

He was so surprised and shocked as I replied, "I do not believe that
Keseberg was responsible for my mother's death," that he interrupted
me, lost for a moment the manner of the impartial historian, and with
the directness of a cross-questioning attorney asked:

"Is it possible that Mrs. George Donner's daughter defends the murderer
of her mother?"

And when I replied, "We have no proofs. My mother's body was never
found," he continued earnestly,

"Why, I have enough evidence in this note book to convict that monster,
and I can do it, or at least arouse such public sentiment against him
that he will have to leave the State."

Very closely he followed my answering words, "Mr. McGlashan, from
little girlhood I have prayed that Lewis Keseberg some day would send
for me and tell me of my mother's last hours, and perhaps give a last
message left for her children, and I firmly believe that my prayer will
be granted, and I would not like you to destroy my opportunity. You
have a ready pen, but it will not be used in exact justice to all the
survivors, as you have promised, if you finish your work without giving
Keseberg also a chance to speak for himself."

After a moment's reflection, he replied, "I am amazed; but your wish in
this matter shall be respected."

The following evening he wrote from San Francisco:

You will be glad to know that I have put Harry N. Morse's detective
agency of Oakland upon the track of Keseberg, and if found, I mean
to take steps to obtain his confession.

In less than a week after the foregoing, came a note from him which
tells its own story.

SACRAMENTO, _Midnight, April 4, 1879_

MRS. E.P. HOUGHTON,
DEAR MADAM:--

Late as it is, I feel that I ought to tell you that I have spent the
evening with Keseberg. I have just got back, and return early
to-morrow to complete my interview. By merest accident, while
tracing, as I supposed, the record of his death, I found a clue to
his whereabouts. After dark I drove six miles and found him. At
first he declined to tell me anything, but somehow I melted the mood
with which he seemed enwrapped, and he talked freely.

He swears to me that he did not murder your moth