THE INQUEST
The next day at the time appointed, three o'clock, I attended, as
representative of the State, the Coroner's hearing. Since my interview
with the Inspector, reported in the last chapter, I had seen no one
likely to throw any light upon the case. I had also avoided any personal
investigation as I did not wish to form conclusions, preferring to give
an unprejudiced hearing to the evidence as it was offered from the lips
of the witnesses on the stand.
When I entered upon the scene, the usual pomp and circumstance of such
proceeding were present. Behind his desk sat the Coroner, serious and
dignified, as became the presiding officer of the occasion.
Ranged to his right were the jurors as I had seen them at the house, no
more intelligent in appearance now than then, but perhaps with even
greater solemnity in their bearing and expression, as was demanded of
them in this hour of public importance.
I crossed over to the table on the Coroner's left, reserved for the
State officers, and took a seat there with the Inspector, Detective
Miles, and several policemen.
A mass of people filled the farther end of the room; most of them
spectators drawn to the scene by the morbid curiosity that always
attends on such occasions. Conspicuous among them I recognized Littell,
Davis, Benton, and others whom I knew to be present as witnesses. Van
Bult was not there, however.
Davis looked pale, nervous, and miserable. Poor fellow, evidently this
sort of thing did not agree with him. Benton was also nervous and
excited, I could see. Littell looked somewhat bored and tired, but gave
me a nod and came over to me, making his way into the forbidden precinct
without interruption, as can only be done by men such as he, who by
quick and mendacious assumption are in the habit of getting what is not
by right theirs.
As he leaned over my chair, he whispered: "This is a miserable affair,
Dick!" I was not inclined for conversation, however, as I wished to give
my entire attention to the proceedings, so I only motioned him to a
chair nearby.
Without unnecessary delay, the Coroner briefly stated the occasion of
the hearing, and then gave the results of his observation and
post-mortem. He did it with no more verbosity and display of
unintelligible technical terminology than the ordinary medical expert
indulges himself in on such occasions.
The jury and audience were able to glean from his testimony with
reasonable certainty, nevertheless, that White had died from a stab--I
believe he said "an incised wound"--made by a dagger or dirk or some
similar slim, sharp instrument driven with great force into the back,
just beneath the left shoulder blade, slightly downward in direction and
penetrating the heart,--such a blow as might have been given by a man
standing over him while he lay on his right side.
There was no other cause of death, for White was organically as sound as
the average man. In reply to a few suggestions rather than questions
from the Inspector, he added that, when he had first seen White about
eight o'clock the preceding morning, he had probably been dead some
hours, he could not say definitely; that he died suddenly, probably
without much outcry or struggle; that he had not killed himself, because
the wound could not have been self-inflicted. This much was reasonably
clear from his testimony, and as he was not afforded by
cross-examination an opportunity to explain or contradict himself, the
jury was left with some information on the subject.
Dr. Lincoln, who succeeded him, told of his early call about seven
o'clock by Benton; of his finding White dead, as described, on the
divan, and his subsequent assistance at the post-mortem.
In a very few words he corroborated the Coroner's testimony in all
important particulars and left no doubt in any one's mind that White had
been murdered some time early in the night and with the stiletto, which
was produced and identified by both him and the Coroner as the weapon
they found in the wound.
The sheath was also produced and fitted to the weapon and its location
over the divan described.
Benton was the next witness. He was laboring under considerable
excitement, but gave his evidence clearly. He testified to leaving White
the night of his death about quarter to one o'clock. That White had been
drinking, and was in an ill humor, but not drunk. That he had thrown
himself upon the divan almost immediately after we had left, and at the
same time had ordered the witness to go home, which order he had obeyed
without delaying to arrange anything. In the morning he had returned at
his customary hour, a little before seven o'clock, and had entered the
room, the door of which, contrary to custom, he had found unlocked. That
the room appeared just as he had left it and to his surprise he had seen
White still upon the divan, apparently asleep. That he went over to
arouse him and discovered he was dead and saw the dagger hilt protruding
from his back. That he had rushed out into the hall and called for help,
then into the street, leaving the door open behind him, to find a
policeman. That he succeeded in doing so within the block, and returned
with him to the house. When they got there they found the landlady and
the housemaid standing in the hall looking into the room, but they had
not apparently been in. That by direction of the officer he next went to
the police station and reported the case, and then came to me. After
which he sent a messenger for Mr. Littell and went himself for Mr. Van
Bult, but the latter had left the city by an early train, at least so
the servant said. That he had then returned to the house, where a large
number of people were gathered. He knew nothing further about the
matter.
The Inspector asked if there had been any money on the card table when
he had left that night, to which he answered that there had been some
large bills left by one of the gentlemen after the game, but that he did
not see them there in the morning.
The plaid cap, which had been found back of the divan, was here produced
and shown him and he was asked if he recognized it. He responded
promptly that it was a cap which White was in the habit of wearing
sometimes on rough nights and volunteered the statement that both it and
a corresponding ulster had been lying on the chair near the window the
night of the murder, but the latter was not there in the morning.
Benton was succeeded on the stand by Davis. The latter had little to
tell, however. He briefly related in a weak voice about our doings there
the previous evening, stating that he had left about the same time as
Benton, leaving White stretched out on the divan, and had closed the
door behind him. That he had gone up to his room and retired. In the
morning about seven o'clock he was aroused by a commotion and the call
of the housemaid and had dressed and gone down immediately to find White
dead on the divan, as described. That a police officer was then in the
room, and the landlady and housemaid were in the passage. That shortly
afterwards others came, myself among the number.
He also testified that Van Bult had left four fifty-dollar bills on the
table the night before and that they were there when he left, but that
he did not see them in the morning; so, also, he said the plaid cap and
ulster had been on a chair near the window, but were missing in the
morning.
He offered no further testimony and was permitted to leave the stand
without questions.
Littell was then called and told briefly and clearly what had happened
as I already knew it on the night of White's death. After reciting the
events of the evening, he stated that he had walked to Madison Square
with me and then continued uptown to his hotel. That on the following
morning while dressing, he thought about eight o'clock, he received a
note from Benton, which he produced, telling him of the murder, and that
he had then gone at once to White's house and found things as they had
been described. He corroborated Benton and Davis about the missing money
and the cap and ulster. He also was not cross-examined.
Van Bult was then called, but did not answer, and the sheriff's deputy
explained he was "non est." This, coupled with the statement of Benton
that he had left the city early on the morning of the murder, created
some stir among the audience, their first active demonstration of
interest that I had observed, though they had given close attention to
all the proceedings.
Next the day-officer on White's beat took the stand and told of his call
by Benton, the visit to White's rooms, and his guard over them until
others arrived on the scene and took charge. He confirmed the statements
of the previous witnesses as to the conditions of the room and position
of the body, but as he had not come on duty until six in the morning, he
could give no information on the important matter of what happened
earlier.
The Inspector here leaned over and asked me if I cared to testify, but
as I could throw no additional light upon the subject and preferred on
account of my official position not to take the stand, I declined. He
then suggested that as he had no further important testimony ready to
offer the hearing be adjourned to the second succeeding day.
I guessed that his purpose in omitting the testimony of the
night-officer was to collect evidence against Winters before disclosing
his case, but I felt it was only right he should do so and as I was
anxious that more should be learned if possible of the whereabouts of
the ulster, I agreed to the suggestion and the hearing was accordingly
adjourned.
After requesting him to send Detective Miles to me the following morning
to report, I gathered up the notes of the evidence which I had taken for
later use, and in company with Littell and Davis took my way to the
Crescent Club.
As we walked uptown Davis seemed too depressed for conversation, while
Littell with his usual serenity contented himself with the remark that
it was an unpleasant affair and he hoped it would soon be over.
I was not satisfied, however, to let the subject pass in so indifferent
a way, for I wanted some expression from him on certain points in the
case. I therefore asked him what he made of the disappearance of the
ulster. He answered rather impatiently, I thought, that he made nothing
of it, that he did not see how he could be expected to under the
circumstances, as no one had furnished him any information on the
subject.
At this Davis, who always had an ear for the ridiculous, laughed in a
half-hearted way.
I felt a little annoyed, however, at his indifference, more especially
as I was confident that his astute mind had not overlooked the incident
or its importance, and I asked him rather sharply not to trifle with a
serious subject, but to give me his real opinion, for I wanted it.
"Well, Dallas," he said, "if you must have it at this very undeveloped
stage of the evidence, I think that when you find the ulster you will be
on the track of the murderer," and after a moment's pause he continued:
"The ulster was in the room when we left it and it was not there the
following morning. Some one, therefore, was in the room in the meanwhile
and removed it. Now, it is very unlikely that more than one man was
there, and that man must have been the murderer as well as the thief."
He reflected a moment, and then went on: "The ulster, nevertheless, was
not taken for its value, for to have realized on it the thief must have
contemplated selling it and no man in his right senses, who had been
guilty of murder, would have jeopardized his neck by selling any article
taken from the scene of the crime so conspicuous as that ulster. No," he
resumed, after a moment's thought, "it was taken with some deeper design
and is now either destroyed or safely hidden, or, more likely still,
disposed of in some ingenious way that will only further baffle the
authorities when found."
Thus far Littell's reasoning had been similar to my own, only, as I had
to confess, clearer and more direct. I wished now to lead him a step
further and confront him with the dilemma that had met me when I learned
that White himself had worn the coat out that night after we left him.
So I told him that within less than half an hour after we parted with
him White had left the house wearing the ulster.
"How do you know that?" he asked.
"Because," I answered, "the night-officer saw him."
"Well," Littell said, "that is a curious coincidence, I admit, but it
does not interfere at all with our theory. If he did leave the house,"
he continued, reasoning apparently as much to himself as to me, "he
certainly returned, because he was murdered there, and upon returning he
removed the ulster and lay down again and the original conditions were
restored. I do not see that it alters the situation, except that it
drops the curtain a little later."
"Then," I said, "you adhere to the theory that the murderer took the
ulster?"
"Yes, I see no other solution," he replied.
I reflected that if Littell's reasoning were correct, then Winters, or
whomever the man may have been that the night-officer had seen coming
out of the vestibule of White's house, had not been the murderer, and I
determined to see what view Littell would take of it. I, therefore,
related this incident to him and continued:
"This man, it is thought by the police, was concerned in the murder, but
he did not have the ulster with him when he left the house."
Littell looked puzzled for a minute and then answered:
"I adhere to my opinion just the same; if that man did not have the
ulster, he was not the murderer. His presence on the scene that night
very likely had no connection with the crime."
"But," I insisted, "your reasoning is all premised upon the assumption
that White must have worn the ulster when he returned, for otherwise
there would be no necessity for accounting for its disappearance. Is it
not possible on the contrary that he left it somewhere and returned
without it?"
"No," he said, "not on such a wet night and in evening dress."
"I admit its improbability," I acknowledged, "but is it not possible,
nevertheless?"
"Not sufficiently so to be taken into account," he replied. "Most things
are possible, but if we stop to consider all the possibilities in a
case, we will have no time for the real facts and will arrive nowhere
and accomplish nothing. Take my word for it, Dick! the man who committed
the murder took the ulster."
This was my opinion, too, and as we had reached the club no more was
said.
On entering a servant told me that Mr. Van Bult was waiting for me in
the library; so we went there and found Van Bult seated in front of the
fire with an unopened paper in his hands gazing abstractedly before him.
We greeted him and then for some moments were silent. There was so much
to say and so little that seemed adequate. We four of all others were
most allied by friendship and intimacy with poor White and by the
incidents of that night with the tragedy of his death. All seemed too
oppressed with the memories of our last gathering to break the silence
and we stood waiting on one another for the first word. Several members
of the club in the meantime came to the door and looked in, but seeing
us four together turned back. At last Van Bult said:
"I suppose the papers have told me all you men know. I learned of it
first in Buffalo, and returned as soon as I could. I am sorry I went
away at all, but it was a matter of importance and I suppose I could
have been of no use here." He paused a moment, but none of us said
anything, and he went on: "So far as I can learn there is absolutely no
clue to the mystery. I did not know that poor Arthur had an enemy in
the world. Is there any evidence of a motive?" he concluded.
"None," Davis replied, "except that the money you left on the table was
gone."
"That was a small sum to murder a man for," he replied; "and no one knew
of its being there, either, but--" he hesitated, and then broke off:
"Does suspicion attach to any one?"
I refrained from answering but Littell said, "No."
Noticing my silence, however, Van Bult turned to me and asked if the
police knew more than the public.
"Yes," I told him, "they do; they think perhaps they have the right
man."
"It is clever work if they have really found him so soon," he answered,
"for it must have been a blind trail to pick up."
"Too clever by much," said Littell; "I don't believe it."
"Nor I," I joined in, but more to myself than the others.
Davis ventured no opinion. He only looked from one to another of us as
we spoke. I doubt if the subject would have interested him at all
except for our connection with it. After a while, in a pause in our talk
he suggested something "to eat and drink and billiards or anything to
cheer us up," as he said.
I don't think any of us were averse to a digression from the subject
which hung over us like a pall and we took his advice and to all
appearance, at least, the others put the subject away from them for the
remainder of the night. It was never out of my thoughts, however; till
the man who killed White was found and brought to justice I knew I could
not rest, and I fancy Littell and Van Bult had some idea of what was in
my mind, for they looked at me curiously now and then during the
evening, and at parting Littell said:
"Cheer up, Dick, the world is full of the troubles of other people, and
you will find your own enough to worry over."
Van Bult only told me to go to bed and sleep as he bade me good-night
and went off with Davis, but I knew he also thought I was dwelling too
much on the subject. I have no doubt they were right, but I could not
help it and went to my room to pass a sleepless night.