And he escaped. A dozen most respectable citizens of Montclair all had the same thought, to notify the police. The dozen rushed to their telephones. When the police arrived De Angelo was dead. He had died instantly.
Deputy County Physician Muta went from Orange and had the body taken to the Morgue at Orange. De Angelo lived at No. 961 Wilson street, Montclair. His parents say he had dinner with them there at noon, then went out. They do not know where he went. The police are trying to learn.
In the parlor of the rooming house at 57 Green Street A. C. Hobson was busily tuning the piano this morning. As he bent above the humming wires, the lid of the instrument thrown back, a light step sounded down the corridor. Then he heard a fresh young voice, singing softly. Hobson smiled and ceased his work to listen.
The voice sang a line or two touching on cows and green fields.
“A kid from the country,” Hobson said, and went on.
A heavier step clumped on the stairway leading up from the street entrance. The song ceased abruptly.
“Hello, Maggie,” Hobson heard a man’s voice say. “What made you leave me?”
There was a little pause; then a girl’s voice answered sharply:
“Why do you follow me, anyhow? I don’t love you.”
“I came to take you back with me,” said the man. Hobson had stopped his tinkering. The sound of the man’s heavy breathing came in to him through the open doorway from the dim corridor. “Kiss me,” the man’s voice commanded.
The girl’s voice rose. “No,” she cried. “No. I don’t love you.”
The man swore. “Then no one else’ll have you,” he shouted.
Hobson stood motionless, as though paralyzed. Then he heard a scuffle; the girl cried out sharply. The restraint on him was broken at that, and Hobson rushed into the corridor. The struggling forms of man and woman were disappearing through the doorway of another room down the hall. An instant or two later, Hobson heard the crack of a revolver shot followed closely by a second. Then the moans of a woman in agony succeeded. Hobson ran into the room. Man and woman writhed on the bed.
Going to a telephone, Hobson summoned the police. Sergt. James O’Rile, acting captain of the Walnut Street Police Station, responded. It was twenty-five minutes before the ambulance arrived.