A PECULIAR INTERVIEW.
Carter lapsed into silence after the cabman had answered his last
question.
It was clear to him now that Lawrence had secured money at the
Manhattan Safe Deposit Company.
Did he get the money out of a box, which he owned, or from some one
connected with the company?
The detective proposed to find out. He happened to be acquainted with
the cashier of the safe deposit company, so he ordered the cabman to
drive him to the gentleman’s house.
Fortunately, Carter found the cashier at home, and he was received by
him in his library.
“Were you acquainted with an Alfred Lawrence?” the detective inquired
of the cashier as soon as he was seated.
The gentleman started in surprise, and asked:
“Why do you ask that question?”
“I want information,” Carter replied, with a smile. He paused for a
moment, and then he continued: “I can see from the manner in which you
started that you knew Alfred Lawrence.”
“Yes, I did know Alfred Lawrence, and I always regarded him as an
honest man. In spite of the fact that he was tried and found guilty of
forgery, I have always believed he was innocent. But why do you come
here asking about Lawrence?”
“Lawrence was murdered at the Red Dragon Inn early this morning.”
“No! It can’t be true!”
The gentleman bounded out of his chair and, standing in the center of
the room, gazed at Carter with an expression of astonishment upon his
face.
“It is true, nevertheless,” the detective replied.
“I saw him yesterday. He had just been released from Sing Sing Prison.”
“Please be seated and try to be calm. I want you to recall to your mind
all that occurred yesterday between you and Lawrence. It is important
that you should remember everything.”
“I will try and do as you request.”
The gentleman resumed his seat, and for some time he bowed his head,
resting it upon his hand.
The detective remained quiet.
Patiently he waited for the cashier of the safe deposit company to
speak. He desired to let him have plenty of time in which to recall to
his mind all that had happened between him and the murdered man on the
previous day.
Finally the gentleman raised his head and gazed intently into Carter’s
face.
“This is a great shock to me,” he remarked, as he passed his hand over
his forehead. “Lawrence came into my office about two o’clock.
“At first I did not recognize him on account of the great change that
had been wrought in him.
“When I learned who he was I was glad to see him.
“He sat down and told me about his prison experience.
“In years gone by we had been friends.
“When he was tried I did what I could to help him.
“The evidence was too strong against him, and he was convicted.
“When he was sent to prison he left in my care some securities to
dispose of. I sold them and placed the money on deposit with the Bank
of North America.
“I wrote to him about it, and he said that he desired me not to
communicate with him again until he should be free. Then he would call
upon me. If I were to die I was to provide in my will that the money
should be placed with some trust company for him.
“Well, as I said, he called on me yesterday. He asked me for two
hundred dollars, and I gave it to him.”
The gentleman paused.
“How much was the full amount?” asked Nick, upon whom the cashier’s
information was making a clear impression of innocence on the part of
Alfred Lawrence.
“About seven thousand dollars,” the cashier answered.
“Did Lawrence talk about his family?”
“He did not.”
“Did he talk about any one?”
“All he said was that he intended to prove that he was not a forger.”
“Did he say how he was going to do it?”
“No.”
“Were you ever acquainted with Simeon Rich?”
“No.”
“Is he living in the city?”
“I don’t know.”
“And you don’t know what became of Lawrence’s wife and child?”
“I do not.”
“Did you know that Lawrence’s house on Beach Street has remained vacant
for years?”
“No.”
“When Lawrence left you did he say where he was going?”
“He did not.”
“Did he say that he would call on you again?”
“He promised to call and see me to-morrow.”
“Did Lawrence run a safe deposit box?”
“He did. He had one with our company.”
“Did he open it yesterday?”
“No. He told me that he intended to open it to-morrow.”
“Did he have the key?”
“He did.”
“Do you know the number of the box?”
“I do not.”
“To-morrow I will find out the number for you.”
“Can’t you do so to-day?”
“Why?”
“I want to examine the contents of that box.”
“You will have to wait until to-morrow, Mr. Carter. Then I will get
permission for you to open the box.”
“I suppose I’ll have to wait.”
“I am sorry that I can’t help you to-day.”
“So am I.”
Carter gave the cashier an account of the mysterious murder at the Red
Dragon Inn and then he departed, promising to call on him at his office
early the next morning.
So far he had progressed fairly well with the case, though he had not
secured any information which would throw light on the mystery.
The murdered man’s identity was established and Carter had learned
something about his history.
But that was not much.
Who could have committed the crime?
Was Lawrence murdered by a common thief or by one who was afraid of him
and desired to put him out of the way?
Carter asked himself these questions.
He was not prepared to answer either one of them.
He had discovered no clew.
He had learned nothing upon which he could base a theory.
Leaving the cashier’s house, he dismissed the cabman, and, hailing a
taxicab, rode home, where he went to his study and sat down to smoke
and think.
It was now evening. He had not wasted a moment since early in the
morning, but he was not satisfied with his work. He had looked through
the directory and had not been able to find in it the name of the man
who had been instrumental in sending Lawrence to State’s prison.
Did he have any suspicion that that man could have anything to do with
the murder?
If he did not, then why was he so anxious to find out what had become
of that man? He wished he had a more accurate description of the man
who had entered the barroom of the Red Dragon Inn after Lawrence.
“That man may know nothing,” he muttered as he thought about him,
“but, nevertheless, I should like to find him.
“Who is he?
“What was he doing in the inn?
“Did he simply step in to get a drink, or did he follow Lawrence in?
“I’m puzzled.”
The detective arose from his chair and commenced to pace back and forth
across the room.
All the time he puffed away vigorously on his cigar and blew the smoke
out in a long stream. Whenever he was annoyed about anything he always
smoked in this way. He was so deep in thought that he did not hear a
knock on the door until the person without had knocked several times.
Carter halted in the center of the room and called out:
“Come in.”
The door was opened by Nick’s butler and Peter Wright entered the room.
At a glance the detective saw he was excited.
“I’m glad you are in, Mr. Carter,” Wright ejaculated, as he sank down
in a chair.
He was puffing and blowing from exertion, and it was several minutes
before he became composed. He mopped his brow with a large red bandanna
and laid his hat down on the floor by the side of his chair.
“It was a peculiar experience,” he ejaculated, looking at the
detective, “very peculiar--very peculiar----”
Mr. Wright had a rapid way of speaking when he was excited, and he had
a habit of repeating certain words and phrases to emphasize what he
said.
“It was deucedly peculiar,” he repeated, after a slight pause.
Carter could not help smiling as he said:
“Mr. Wright, you forget that I know nothing about it.”
“That’s so--confound it! I am so excited I can hardly collect my
thoughts. But it was a deucedly peculiar experience, all the same,” he
replied.
“Tell me all about it.”
“Tell you all about it? So I will--yes--yes. Peculiar--it was very
peculiar----”
“No doubt. Try and collect your thoughts.”
“I will.”
Mr. Wright mopped his brow for the twentieth time, blew his nose, and
then, rolling his bandanna up into a ball, threw it into his hat,
saying, as he rested his elbows upon the arms of the chair and leaned
forward:
“Mr. Carter, I think I have important information for you.”
“That is what I want,” the detective replied.
Nick was perfectly calm.
Not a muscle of his face moved.
But those shrewd eyes of his sparkled like two gems.
“It was this way,” Mr. Wright continued, after a momentary silence:
“After you left me I returned to my room in the hotel and sat down
to glance at the morning newspaper. I could not remain quiet for any
length of time, because my mind was dwelling continuously on the murder.
“Well, an hour passed. I was pacing up and down the room trying to
recall to my mind everything I had known and had heard about Lawrence,
when there came a knock at my door.
“I called out for the party to come in, and a tall, handsome, stylishly
dressed woman entered the room.
“I was taken by surprise and was slightly confused. I thought at first
the woman had mistaken my room for some one else’s. But she looked at
me very calmly, and when I did not speak she said:
“‘Are you not Mr. Wright?’
“Instantly I pulled myself together and acknowledged that I was the
individual. I invited her to be seated.
“As far as I could remember, Mr. Carter, I had never seen the woman
before in all my life.
“‘You are Mr. Peter Wright?’ she asked again, as soon as she was
seated, and she placed considerable emphasis upon ‘Peter,’ looking me
straight in the eyes with such intensity as if she were endeavoring to
read my most secret thoughts.
“‘My name is Peter Wright,’ I said, and I commenced to experience a
creeping sensation all over me.
“Never before had I been in such a position.
“It may have been my imagination, but I thought that she was making an
effort to exert some influence over me.
“Well, that is neither here nor there. It is a waste of time for me to
go into details about my feelings----”
“Go on,” Carter interrupted, “tell your story your own way, and do not
make any attempt to abridge it. I am deeply interested.”
“Let me see--oh, yes. As I said, I thought she was trying to hypnotize
me.
“As soon as I said that I was Peter Wright she asked:
“‘Were you the owner of the Red Dragon Inn at one time?’
“I replied in the affirmative, and I saw a smile encircle her lips.
“‘You don’t remember me,’ she said, after a pause.
“‘Indeed, I do not,’ I replied. ‘I cannot recall that I ever saw you
before.’
“‘No doubt, no doubt,’ she murmured. She glanced around the room and
ran her hand across her forehead. ‘I have changed wonderfully,’ she
went on. ‘Twenty years works wonderful changes in all of us,’ and she
smiled, with the sweetest smile I ever beheld upon the face of a woman.
“‘We all change,’ I interpolated, and she replied:
“‘You are right. I was a girl when you saw me last, and now I am a
woman. Mr. Wright, do you not remember Isabella Porter?’
“The instant she mentioned the name I remembered her.
“Her parents used to live a few doors from the Red Dragon Inn. Her
father was a produce merchant. When she was a small girl I used to give
her pennies to spend. Her father died and her mother moved out of the
neighborhood. I lost track of them, and I had not seen nor heard of
Isabella until she appeared in my room.
“To tell you the truth, Mr. Carter, even after she had told me who
she was, I studied her face, but could not see a line in it that was
familiar to me. I believed she was Isabella Porter, all the same.
“I told her that I remembered her name, and then for a time she was
silent. She bowed her head, and seemed lost in deep thought.
“Suddenly she glanced up at me.
“‘I’ve called to see you on a peculiar errand,’ she informed me.
“‘What is it?’ I asked.
“‘One night about ten or eleven years ago,’ she said, ‘a man called on
you at the Red Dragon Inn and gave you a package to keep.
“‘The man was a stranger to you.
“‘On the package was written the name of Edward Peters.
“‘You put the package in your safe and the man never called for it.’
“She paused and fastened her eyes upon me, Mr. Carter, with that
strange, uncanny, searching look--it was certainly peculiar, _very_
peculiar!
“I recalled the incident distinctly, but something within me seemed to
tell me to pretend ignorance about the package, to try and draw her out
and find out what she was aiming at, so I said:
“‘I don’t remember any such incident.’
“Isabella Porter started and her face darkened.
“‘You don’t?’ she ejaculated, in a tone of annoyance.
“‘No,’ I replied. I was perfectly calm now, you see, and I had full
command of my senses.
“Isabella eyed me closely, but I returned her gaze unflinchingly.
“Why I acted in this way I cannot tell. An unseen force seemed to be
guiding me.
“‘What did you do with the contents of your safe?’ Isabella asked.
“‘When I sold the place,’ I replied, ‘I removed the contents of the
safe. I placed the paper in a box and locked it up in the safe deposit
vault. Since that time I have never looked at it,’ which was the truth.
“‘Then the package must be in your box,’ Isabella ejaculated, and her
countenance brightened. ‘Mr. Wright, I want that package.’
“‘If it should be among my papers,’ I replied, ‘I can’t see why I
should deliver it to you. It does not belong to you.’
“She bit her lips with annoyance and exclaimed:
“‘I must get possession of that package, Mr. Wright.’
“‘Why?’ I asked.
“‘I can’t tell you the reason why,’ she answered. ‘You would not
understand if I were able to explain. But, Mr. Wright, please let me
have that package.’
“‘What is in it?’ I asked.
“‘I can’t tell you,’ she replied.
“‘Oh, well,’ I said, with a false laugh. ‘It is nothing to me.
To-morrow I will hunt through my papers at the safe deposit company and
I will see if the package is among them.’
“‘Can’t you look to-day?’ she asked, with great eagerness.
“‘No,’ I replied; ‘to-day is a holiday and the vault is closed.’
“‘Then I suppose I must wait. What time shall I call upon you
to-morrow?’
“‘About eleven o’clock,’ I answered.
“‘I will be here on time,’ she said, and she arose from her chair.
“‘Where are you living?’ I inquired.
“‘At No. -- West Nineteenth Street,’ she replied.
“‘With your mother?’
“‘My mother has been dead five years. I reside in a flat alone.’
“‘Are you married?’
“‘No, no,’ she laughed.
“I wanted to question her further, but I refrained.
“Isabella departed.
“As soon as she was out of the room I locked the door.
“I had lied to her, Mr. Carter. The box with the contents of my old
safe in it was not in the vault of the safe deposit company, but it was
resting under my bed.
“I pulled it out into the center of the room and unlocked it. I
examined the contents, and at last came across the package with the
name of Edward Peters written across the face.
“It was sealed.
“I broke the seals and tore off the wrapper.
“Another wrapper was beneath, and upon it was writing.
“I read the indorsement.
“As the words appeared before my eyes I was so overcome with excitement
that I could not move or think for some time.”
Mr. Wright paused, looked at Carter, put his hand into the breast
pocket of his coat, and pulled out a large package.