Robert "Robin" Hemingray - Carlotta Campiglio

CONVINCED NO SERIOUS QUARRELS

MARRED THEIR BRIEF WEDDED LIFE

ROBERT HEMINGRAY, the racing man, and his

friends say they are wholly unable to find a

motive for Mrs. Hemingray's suicide. They agree

in saying that any domestic quarrels there may

have been were insignificant in character.

Figures in the Tragedy.

The center drawing is a likeness of Robert Hemingray, husband of the

girl-wife who ended her life; below is a portrait of C. T. Hemingray,

his brother, and above a portrait of the latter's wife appears. She is the

"Rose" who was mentioned in Mrs. Hemingray's ante-farewell letter.

GOSSIP ALONE

MADE SOME

TROUBLE

Friends of Robert Hemingray

Insist That He Was Not the

Man to Strike a Woman

Under Any Circumstances.

CANNOT EXPLAIN

UNHAPPY RESULT

Sitting yesterday in the big bay-window of his apartments in the Palace Hotel, with a brother racing man at either side of him, sipping from a long glass of whisky and soda, Robert Hemingray avowed his inability to explain why on the previous night, in the bedchamber of their suite at the Knickerbocker, 1340 Pine street, his beautiful young wife had sent a bullet through her brain, or why she should have written these words in the letter addressed to him that was found after her death:

"When you told me you did not care to talk with me I just longed to kiss you, throw my arms around your neck, but you would have knocked me down, so I die without one kiss."

The telephone in the other end of the room had just rung to tell one of Hemingray's friends that Hemingray was wanted at once at Corbett's poolrooms, and the husband of the dead girl had asked his friend to say that he would go as soon as the drinks came and the drinks had come just as the message was being sent.

The reporter read aloud the above quoted sentence from Carlotta Hemingray's last love letter - because the turfman had seemed to discredit the fact that his wife had written such a phrase as "but you would have knocked me down."

I didn't read her letter, I wouldn't let any one read it to me; I was too badly shocked," said Hemingray, sipping. "I am unable to explain why she should have written such a thing, or why she should have killed herself. I never struck any woman in my life."

His manner was cool and collected, but the pallor of his clean-shaven face and the drawn expression about his mouth suggested something of the nervous affliction from which he says he has suffered for several years.

OBJECTED TO GOSSIP.

"Our little quarrels were always on the same subject, gossip," he went on, "and never what you would call serious. A race track man must not have his affairs talked about. I tried to impress that on her. Before I went down town last evening to get the Christmas magazines - so that she and I could read them together to-day - I said to her, 'Don't gossip to any one, don't, don't,' and she said, 'I haven't gossiped,' and I said 'Well, don't; don't gossip.' That's the whole size and substance of our quarrel last night. I went down town and - you know the rest. It was the first time I had left her alone in the three weeks we have been here. She went to the track every day that I did. We were always together."

"Why" - he turned to one of his friends - "weren't she and I in the middle of the floor, dancing, only the other night? Don't you remember?"

The friend remembered; and Hemingray, after another sip, said: "I can think of nothing that worried. Why, frequently I told her that if she was tired I would send her home to her mother. Have you any idea when the Coroner's inquest will be held? I'm anxious to ship the body to her mother and go down somewhere near Los Angeles to rest. I'm all broken up."

He drank meditatively for an instant, then added in a resentful tone: "I've had more trouble in my life than was coming to me. A year ago the best friend I had was crushed in an elevator. I don't know what to say about that remark of hers in the letter. It looks as though she meant to convey that I was so angry I might have knocked her down if she had thrown her arms around me. But she had no cause to think that. Anyone that has seen us together could tell you that."

We were married," he said, in answer to the direct question, "in a little suburb of Chicago, more than three months ago. I don't remember the date nor the place, nor the name of the man that performed the ceremony - except that he was an old minister and married us at his home. I could drive there now, although I'm not so very well acquainted with Chicago. We were out for a drive on the day we got married."

Hemingray finished what was left of the whisky and soda in a single gulp. "When you get Corbett's on the 'phone tell them I'll be down there right off," he said to one of his friends.

"Rose," for whom Carlotta Hemingray left a note, asking that her clothing be sent to her mother, Mrs. P. F. Campiglio of Cincinnati, is the wife of C. T. Hemingray, a brother of the widower. She said yesterday that she knew nothing of the tragedy nor of the quarrel that had preceded it, until after the body had been removed by the Coroner. The door to her apartments at the Knickerbocker adjoins the door of those occupied, until Saturday night, by her brother-in-law and his wife. She did not hear the shot because the water was running in the washstand of her bedroom, where at the time she was lying ill.

NO SERIOUS QUARREL.

"They had their little tiffs," she said, "but the tiffs never amounted to anything serious. It is beyond belief that Bob Hemingray ever raised his hand to a woman. He is a man of splendid honor. His nerves troubled him a great deal and sometimes when she would be playing ragtime or laughing, he would cry out for her to stop. For all I knew their life had been a happy one ever since they were married. No, I don't know the date of their wedding - only that it took place in Chicago some three and a half months ago."

C. T. Hemingray did not seem to place much confidence in the reporter's observation that a portion of the dead girl's letter had just been read to his brother for the first time.

"Why," he said, "publication of that letter has worked him all up. He has been worrying all morning over the inference that he was likely to knock her down if she caressed him. There was nothing in their little quarrel to justify it. He was warning her against gossiping when I went into their rooms to get him to accompany me down town. He didn't like her to talk about his business affairs, and he said so with some feeling. But there was no row, there wasn't even a scene; it was just a small family quarrel."

The brother of the widower went into the hall and explained how his hand was almost on the knob of Carlotta Hemingray's door when the shot rang out from her bedroom.

"A minute earlier and you might have saved her," was suggested.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "The folding doors to the bedroom were closed. She lay there, with the pistol in her hand, I think, waiting until she heard us coming, before she fired the shot. They had lived here only three weeks, while I've been here several months. My brother wrote to me from Chicago about three months ago telling me of his marriage. That was the first I knew of it."

"Carlotta Hemingray was the most beautiful woman I ever saw," said Mrs. Locke, wife of the proprietor of the Knickerbocker. "At times she was very happy, and now and again, just the reverse. One day she would ask my advise about what to do with a cross husband, and the next day she would be bubbling with spirits. I never was witness to their quarrels, and I cannot believe that Mr. Hemingray is the sort of man that knocks a woman down. Nor did she seem to be the sort of girl to invite brutality. She was highly cultured, and her mother, who, she told me, was at one time an actress, has splendid social connections in Cincinnati. The mystery of her suicide is inexplicable, for she had everything to live for; she was young and she was as beautiful as ever a woman could be."

FROM CINCINNATI.

Mrs. Hemingray's body lies at a local undertaking shop awaiting instructions from her mother in Cincinnati as to its disposal. The police are satisfied that the case was purely suicidal, the husband, nor his brother, C. T. Hemingray, will be detained. Their peculiar action in leaving the hotel immediately is fully explained, according to the police, by the husband's statement that he is a sufferer from a heart trouble and feared the shock which would follow the sight of his dead wife.

A dispatch received from Cincinnati last night says:

The news of the death by suicide of Mrs. Robert Hemingray in San Francisco last night was received as a shock by the numerous friends of the young woman. She is well known in this city and was popular among her set. Before her marriage to Hemingray she was known as Miss Carlo Campiglio and resided with her parents, Professor and Mrs. Campiglio at 636 West Fourth street.

When Mrs. Campiglio was informed last night of the death of her daughter she became hysterical and it was necessary to summon a physician to attend her. The young woman who ended her life was but eighteen years of age. She who was Miss Carlo Campiglio will be remembered by men around town as one of the most strikingly beautiful girls who ever walked the streets of Cincinnati. Her father has been organist of St. Paul's Church, on Seventh street, a number of years and conducted a music store across the river in Covington, Ky.