THE IDENTIFICATION.
Carter conducted Peter Wright upstairs to the attic room in which the
body of the victim lay.
The coroner was making an examination, but he stepped aside, so as to
allow Mr. Wright to see the face of the murdered man.
The former proprietor of the Red Dragon Inn looked at the ghastly white
countenance long and intently.
All of the persons in the room watched him in silence.
Several times the old man shook his head back and forth and his brow
became contracted.
Finally he looked at Carter and shook his head dolefully.
“There is a certain familiar expression about that man’s features,” he
said, in a tone of awe, “but for the life of me I cannot recall who he
is. If he were a patron of the Red Dragon Inn while I was proprietor,
he has changed so that I cannot remember him.”
“I am very sorry that you are not able to identify the body, Mr.
Wright,” the detective said. “Will you kindly accompany me downstairs.
I want to have a private talk with you.”
“Lead on, and I will follow.”
The detective led the way down to the parlor.
As soon as they were inside the room he closed the door. Presently he
and Mr. Wright were ensconced in easy-chairs.
“Permit your memory to wander back ten or twelve years to the time when
you owned this place, and see if you can recall the name of any one of
your patrons who was sent to State’s prison.”
Mr. Wright started.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed.
Carter smiled and his eyes sparkled.
“What startles you?” the detective asked, with an assumed air of
surprise.
“Nothing startles me,” Mr. Wright rejoined.
“Then what is it?”
“That man is Alfred Lawrence--he has changed mightily--it is no wonder
I did not recognize him. But I know him now.”
“Who was Alfred Lawrence?”
“He was one of my old customers. He was sent to Sing Sing for fifteen
years for forgery. Don’t you remember the famous Lawrence will case?”
“I have a slight recollection of it. The trial took place while I was
away in Europe, and I read very little about it.”
“I will tell you about it.”
“Do so.”
“Alfred Lawrence was a well-to-do produce merchant, who had an office
on West Street and lived on Beach Street.
“His uncle, after whom he was named, was the senior member of the firm.
Old Alfred Lawrence was a bachelor.
“When he died a will was found, and in it he left all his estate to his
nephew.
“Simeon Rich, another nephew, and his sister contested the will. They
claimed that it was a forgery and that Alfred Lawrence had forged his
uncle’s signature.
“The case came up before the surrogate and the fight was a bitter one
on both sides.
“Lawrence’s wife, with whom he had lived unhappily, went before the
referee and swore that she had seen her husband forge the will. Her
testimony was corroborated by Blanchard, the chief witness, who was
Lawrence’s butler.
“It was hinted at, at the time, that Mrs. Lawrence and Simeon Rich were
very intimate.
“The will was broken. Lawrence was arrested, tried, convicted, and sent
to State’s prison.
“Then people forgot all about him.”
“What became of Mrs. Lawrence?” asked Carter.
“She lived for a time in the Beach Street house. A year after her
husband’s conviction the house was closed up and Mrs. Lawrence and her
child disappeared. The house has remained closed ever since.”
“Then there was a child?”
“Yes--a girl--she was about twelve years old at the time.”
“What became of Simeon Rich?”
“I do not know.”
“How was the estate divided?”
“That I do not remember.”
“Lawrence, you say, was a customer of yours?”
“He was, and he was a mighty fine fellow. I always believed he was
innocent, notwithstanding the fact that all the evidence was strong
against him.”
“And you believe that the murdered man is this same Alfred Lawrence?”
“I do.”
“Is this all the information you can give me, Mr. Wright?”
“It is.”
“What was the number of the old house on Beach Street in which Lawrence
resided?”
“I don’t remember, but you can find it easily. It is near Varick
Street, and it is the only house on the block that is closed.”
“Ah!”
“Some one is at the door,” said Peter Wright.
Carter arose from his chair and opened the door.
The police captain entered the room, followed by a policeman.
“Mr. Carter,” he said, “here is one of my men, Officer Pat Maguire; he
saw the murdered man last night.”
“Did he?” Carter queried, casting a searching glance at Maguire, who
replied:
“That I did, sir.”
“Sit down and tell me all about it.”
Pat Maguire took a seat.
“This morning,” he said, “I reported at the station house and I heard
about the murder. The instant I heard a description of the man read I
concluded it was the poor, forlorn, down-and-out old chap with whom I
had talked last night while on my beat.
“I came around here, took a look at the body, and I saw that it was the
old man. Then I instantly told the captain about the conversation I had
with him, and he brought me here to see you.”
“Tell me about that conversation, Maguire.”
Policeman Maguire gave Carter a clear account of the conversation
which he had held with the old man and described how he had acted.
When he concluded, Mr. Wright ejaculated:
“You see, Mr. Carter, that corroborates what I told you. There are no
reasonable doubts now about the man being Alfred Lawrence.”
“Why did he try to enter that house on Beach Street?”
“I cannot tell.”
“There is a deep mystery here,” remarked Carter, “one which I intend to
solve. Gentlemen, I must leave you. Please keep silent about what you
have told me.”
Before any one could utter a word, he had slipped out of the room.
“A strange man,” the police captain remarked, as soon as Carter was
gone. “Why has he left the room without giving any intimation of what
he was going to do?”
The information which had been imparted to Carter by Mr. Wright and the
policeman was important. He was certain now that the murdered man was
the ex-convict, Alfred Lawrence.
It was his intention to probe into that man’s history and learn more of
the details of the will case and the trial.
In doing this, would he be able to discover the motive of the murder?
After leaving the Red Dragon Inn the detective at once--without waiting
to go home--went to a near-by telephone exchange and called up the
keeper of Sing Sing Prison.
From this man he learned that Lawrence had been released early the day
before, that he had been furnished with clothing and a small sum of
money, and that he started for New York.
“What train did he leave on?” Carter asked of the keeper.
“The eleven-ten,” the keeper replied.
“Was he an exemplary prisoner?”
“Yes.”
“Did he have any visitors call on him?”
“None.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“During his imprisonment, did he receive many letters?”
“None.”
“Did he ever talk to you about himself?”
“No, he was always a taciturn man and he never talked to me or to
others about himself. When he left here yesterday he said that he
intended to be revenged on the persons who had wronged him, for, he
said, he had suffered for a crime of which he was not guilty.”
“Did he mention any names?”
“No.”
“How much money did you give him?”
“Ten dollars.”
From the telephone office the detective went in his automobile to the
old house on Beach Street. He stood on the sidewalk and inspected it.
There was no sign on the house to indicate that the formerly handsome
residence was for rent or for sale. All the windows were boarded up
tight.
A man, who lived next door, noticed Carter, and coming up to his side,
coughed nervously, to attract his attention.
“Are you thinking of buying or renting this place?”
“Is it for sale?” the detective asked, without answering the man’s
question.
“I do not know. I thought from the manner in which you were looking at
it that you thought about renting or buying it. No sign has ever been
up on the house.”
“How long have you lived in this neighborhood?”
“About twenty years.”
“Then you are pretty well acquainted with it?”
“That I am.”
“How long has this house been uninhabited?”
“About ten years, I think.”
“Were you acquainted with the last tenant?”
“I was. Alfred Lawrence and his family lived there. Lawrence was sent
to State’s prison on a charge of forgery. His wife and child moved
away, and from that day to this I never heard what became of them.”
“Have you ever seen any one visit the house?”
“No one has ever come here.”
“Was the furniture taken away?”
“Yes.”
“Then the house is evidently empty?”
“It is.”
“Were you acquainted with Lawrence enough to know anything about his
affairs?”
“I was not.”
“All I know is what I read in the newspapers at the time.”
“Was he a man of considerable means?”
“I always thought so.”
“Did you know Simeon Rich?”
“No.”
Not being able to secure any further information from the man, the
detective walked away.
Many thoughts crowded his mind and he asked himself innumerable
questions in regard to the case.
The prison keeper had told him over the telephone that Lawrence had
only ten dollars in his possession when he left Sing Sing, and the
bartender at the Red Dragon Inn had informed him that the man who had
been murdered had displayed a large sum of money when he paid for the
night’s lodging.
“From whom had Lawrence received money?” the detective asked himself as
he pondered over this. “He must have got money from some one.”
That was clear.
But the bartender might have been mistaken.
Nick told Danny to drive to a restaurant, where he procured an
excellent breakfast; then he directed the chauffeur to make a dash up
to the Grand Central Station, where he hoped to find some one who had
seen Lawrence leave the train and had noted the direction in which he
went.
What had Lawrence done from the time he left the depot until Pat
Maguire saw him standing in front of St. John’s Church looking into the
churchyard?
Would the detective be able to follow his footsteps?
Many would have looked upon such a task as Carter had set out to
perform as hopeless.
The railroad detective who was stationed at the depot was unable to
furnish Nick with any information.
Carter made inquiries of the porters and others, but none of them
remembered seeing any man who answered to Lawrence’s description.
Finally, he left the depot and went outside to the cab stand.
Here he commenced to question the drivers.
At last he found a man who, in reply to his question, said:
“I drove the old chap downtown in my cab.”
“Do you think you would be able to identify him if you should see him
again?” Carter asked.
“I do,” the cabman answered.
“Will you come with me?”
“What for?”
“I want you to take a look at a man and see if he is the same person
whom you drove downtown.”
“I can’t leave my cab.”
“Drive me down to the Cosmopolitan Hotel.”
“I’ll do that.”
Nick sent Danny home, got into the cab, and was driven away.
He had his reasons for not telling the cabman anything about the case.
Before he questioned him further he wanted to see if the murdered man
was the same person whom the man had had for a fare the previous day.
The cab stopped in front of the Cosmopolitan Hotel and the detective
alighted. He and the driver crossed the street and entered the Red
Dragon Inn.
To the chamber of death the detective conducted his surprised companion.
When they entered the room Carter pointed to the corpse and asked:
“Is that the man?”
“Dead!” the cabman ejaculated, as he started back, after having glanced
at the face of the murdered man. “Yes, sir, it is the man, all right.
He has been murdered!”
“Yes.”
“Did you fetch me down here to place me under arrest?”
“No.”
“I know nothing about this.”
“Come with me.”
“I’ll go with you, but I swear----”
“There, there, my man, don’t get excited. You will not be
arrested--rest easy on that score.”
“But----”
“Wait until we get outside, and then I will tell you what I want you to
do.”
They returned to the cab and stood on the sidewalk near it.
Carter was silent for a short time.
Suddenly he looked up into the pale face of the cabman and asked:
“Where did you drive him?”
“You mean----” the man stammered. The question had been asked so
suddenly that he was slightly confused.
“I mean the man whose body lies over there in the Red Dragon Inn.”
“I drove him down to the Manhattan Safe Deposit Company. He got out of
the cab, told me to wait for him, and then he went into the building,
where he remained for nearly half an hour. When he came out he paid and
dismissed me.”
“When he paid you did he display any large amount of money?”
“He had quite a large-sized roll of bills in his hand.”
“Did you drive away immediately after you received the money for your
services?”
“I did.”
“And you did not notice in which direction the old man went?”
“He went back into the building.”