The words came like a stunning blow where a verbal counter-argument was
expected. Luckstone and his clients sat like beings who felt the ground
slipping from under them, yet were helpless in the paralyzing fear that
had seized them. The coroner's eyes traveled from Britz to Manning and
Greig, as if seeking confirmation of the detective's statement. But he
found only amazement written in their features.
Coroner Hart was the first to recover from the surprise occasioned by
Britz's revelation. He became aware of a growing skepticism that refused
to accept so obvious an explanation of the puzzling circumstances
surrounding the merchant's death. Surely the same solution would have
suggested itself to him ere this were it possible for twenty hours to
have elapsed between the time of the shooting and the discovery that
Whitmore was dead!
"If Whitmore was shot the night before, then he must have deliberately
chosen his office in which to die!" the coroner said in disparagement of
Britz's contention. "Why, it's impossible! I should have detected it the
moment I saw the wound."
Britz now produced the enlarged photograph of the wound as well as the
needle that he had found on the floor of Whitmore's office.
"It is all very simple--so simple that I eliminated the theory that
Whitmore was killed in his office at the very outset of the
investigation. The very preparations that were made to delude us
contained the evidence of their own clumsy manufacture. Look at the
photograph of this wound!" Britz held the photograph edgewise on his
desk. "Do you observe the perforations about the edge of the wound? They
tell the whole story. That wound had been sewed up and was opened again
with this needle." He held up the slim, steel darning needle to the
light.
"But why--why should he do this?" broke in the coroner. "It must have
been torture!"
"It was," Britz agreed.
"But the loaded pistol on his desk--how do you explain that?"
"I repeat, Whitmore was shot the night before," replied Britz. "It was a
mortal wound. The spleen had been penetrated and he was beyond the aid
of medical science.
"The doctor that was summoned undoubtedly told him he was doomed. There
was no way to stop the internal bleeding, but the patient might live
anywhere from twenty-four to seventy-two hours. We are all familiar with
the uncertainties of gunshot wounds--the medical records overflow with
cases of wonderful endurance shown by persons suffering from pistol
wounds.
"Now what did Whitmore do? Why, he decided to conceal the evidence of
his own murder. He instigated the conspiracy to shield his murderer.
Moreover he determined to make it appear that he had committed suicide.
So he went to his office in the morning armed with the pistol and the
needle. It was unquestionably his intention to fire a second shot into
the wound but first it was necessary to open it and he did so at great
pain. He died, whether from shock or weakness, before his hand was able
to reach the pistol on his desk. Had he been able to accomplish what was
in his mind, his clerks would have heard the shot, the authorities would
have found the pistol and the conclusion of suicide would have been
accepted without question."
"Did you see the physician who attended him?" interjected the coroner.
"Yes," replied Britz, "but I couldn't get a word out of him, and under
the law I could not force him to tell."
"But the clothing--his underwear would have shown where the blood had
dried," the coroner declared.
"Whitmore attended to that," replied Britz. "The moment he opened the
wound he permitted the fresh blood to stain the underwear. You see, with
the exception of his overcoat he wore the same clothing he had on when
he was shot."
Having established the time when the assassin fired the bullet into
Whitmore's body, Britz laid aside the picture and the needle and turned
savagely on Luckstone.
"Now, sir!" he exclaimed, bringing his fist down on the table. "That
disposes of your alibis! You had arranged them very craftily after the
shooting--all four of your clients spent the morning where disinterested
witnesses could see them. The very fact of their being compelled to
supply themselves with alibis proves their guilty knowledge of the
crime."
Luckstone was too experienced an attorney not to be prepared to meet any
new turn which the case might take. Besides, the coroner's attitude
seemed to be antagonistic to the police, and the lawyer resolved not to
abandon hope of having the entire matter disposed of at the present
hearing.
"It doesn't matter a particle to my clients when Mr. Whitmore was shot,"
he said, adopting an attitude of indifference. "Since I have entered on
a defense, I might as well proceed with it and end the terrible
uncertainty and annoyance which they have suffered."
The lawyer left his seat and stood facing Britz, ready to meet any new
evidence which the detective had to offer.
"This is what occurred on the night before Mr. Whitmore's death," he
proceeded. "Mr. Whitmore arrived home after a long business trip. He
communicated with Mrs. Collins and was informed that she, her husband,
Ward and Miss Burden had engaged a box at the opera. They went to the
opera that night. Miss Burden will bear us out in that. During the first
act Mr. Beard joined the party and toward the end of the performance,
Mr. Whitmore arrived.
"On leaving the opera house, Mr. Whitmore separated from the others.
Collins, Mrs. Collins, Ward and Miss Burden returned to Delmore Park in
the Collins machine. Beard accompanied them and spent the night with Mr.
Ward. Mr. Whitmore slept in Mr. Beard's home that night. Now what
becomes of your theory that Mr. Whitmore was shot by one of my clients?
Miss Burden was with them before, during, and after the performance."
Here was another alibi, more potent than the others. For it was evident
that if Whitmore was shot after the performance at the opera house, none
of the four suspects could be adjudged guilty of the crime. And it was
unlikely that Luckstone would have revealed as much as he did unless he
were absolutely sure of his ground. Miss Burden and the chauffeur were
witnesses whose testimony it would be impossible to shake.
To the coroner it looked as if all four of those before him had absolved
themselves from participation in the crime. In fact it would require
only the formal testimony of the witnesses named by Luckstone to insure
their acquittal.
"You say that Mr. Whitmore returned from a business trip?" asked Britz.
"Yes," answered Luckstone.
"That is untrue." The detective's jaw snapped viciously.
"What do you mean?" An angry flush suffused the lawyer's cheeks.
"I know precisely where Mr. Whitmore spent his time."
As if to avoid further controversy, Britz nodded to Greig and the latter
left the room. He returned after a moment accompanied by a man who, for
some reason, was trying desperately to hide behind the detective's broad
back. Evidently he had no relish for the rôle which he was to play in
this tense drama.
"Travis, step forward!" commanded Britz.
The newcomer stepped into the center of the room, a timorous, shrinking
figure, pale and haggard. At sight of him Luckstone gave a half-startled
gasp. A violent tremor traveled down Beard's frame. The agitation of the
lawyer and the secretary extended in milder form to the others in the
room.
"Travis, look around this room and see if you can identify the man that
hired you to impersonate Herbert Whitmore!" said Britz.
Travis's gaze wandered from face to face, finally fixing itself on
Beard's drawn features.
"That is the man!" he said, pointing a trembling forefinger at the
secretary.
"That is all!" Britz dismissed him.
This dramatic interruption of the hearing served to increase the
strained expectancy with which those in the room had followed the
proceedings. A dozen times Manning and Greig had experienced a darting
sense of alarm as Britz's case threatened to collapse. Momentarily they
expected to hear him acknowledge that he had erred in his accusations
and to see him abandon his efforts to fix the crime on Mrs. Collins,
Collins, Ward and Beard.
But with each new setback Britz became all the more determined. And now
he favored Luckstone with an exultant gleam that carried no hope of
compromise.
"You realize the significance of the identification, don't you?" Britz
inquired with exasperating coolness.
"I don't see what it has to do with the murder," Luckstone retorted. "My
clients never saw Mr. Whitmore after they left him at the opera house."
"Then you mean to intimate that if he was shot that night, the shooting
was done by an outsider?"
"That is the only reasonable inference."
"It is a most unreasonable inference," said Britz.
"Why?"
"Because it does not explain why Mr. Whitmore should have tried to give
his death the aspect of suicide. Moreover, had he been shot by an
outsider, the police would have been notified at once. As a final reason
for discarding any theory that he was shot by someone outside of the
four persons whom you represent, I mention the silence which they have
so consistently maintained."
"They have done so by my advice," said the lawyer.
"And do you still advise them to remain silent?"
"I do, except as to proving an alibi."
"You deem that sufficient?"
"I do. It is all that would be required before a jury."
"I suppose that you have effectually silenced the physician who attended
Mr. Whitmore," said Britz, "and I know that the servant in Mr. Beard's
house was permitted to spend the night in question with his parents in
Newark. So there is nothing left but to ask Mr. Beard to tell us who
killed Mr. Whitmore."