Salt Lake Telegram, June 3, 1922. Is it because Salt Lake City is a faraway foreign capital that I cannot make heads or tails of what should be a straightforward bit of scandal-mongering? 
She fainted while her underwear was on fire. Sheesh, what a mystery are the autonomous functions of the human body! But how odd that her dainties should catch fire and not the rest of her clothing. (Is silk particularly flammable, compared to other pre-synthetic fabrics?)
Then again, perhaps she was wearing only her underwear at the time–that would help explain their exclusive and limited combustion.
Or maybe she wasn’t wearing them at the time: She might have built a symbolic bonfire of her knickers on the hotel room floor before shooting the dude and herself.
The questions multiply the mysteries. . .
Anyway, I’m guessing “hotel attaches” are to house dicks as sanitary engineers are to garbagemen. Or maybe “attache” applies only to house dicks small enough to fit through transoms. But now let’s proceed to the intriguing literary aspects of the story.
Tucson Citizen, January 5, 1907. Interesting bit of reportage here. First you’ve got that skeptical “at least to the satisfaction of the police,” then a similarly qualified reference (“police say”) to a confession obtained “under the third degree,” meaning they beat the snot out of the guy. Which leads us to the point that the whole arson scenario makes zero sense. He sets fires and then runs into the burning buildings to steal “fluffy things”? There are easier ways than that to get your hands on some cashmere. 