FIVE SMALL SPANGLES.
Such an experience could not fail to emphasize Mr. Gryce's interest in
the case and heighten the determination he had formed to probe its
secrets and explain all its extraordinary features. Arrived at
Headquarters, where his presence was doubtless awaited with some anxiety
by those who knew nothing of the cause of his long detention, his first
act was to inquire if Bartow, the butler, had come to his senses during
the night.
The answer was disappointing. Not only was there no change in his
condition, but the expert in lunacy who had been called in to pass upon
his case had expressed an opinion unfavorable to his immediate recovery.
Mr. Gryce looked sober, and, summoning the officer who had managed
Bartow's arrest, he asked how the mute had acted when he found himself
detained.
The answer was curt, but very much to the point.
"Surprised, sir. Shook his head and made some queer gestures, then went
through his pantomime. It's quite a spectacle, sir. Poor fool, he keeps
holding his hand back, so."
Mr. Gryce noted the gesture; it was the same which Bartow had made when
he first realized that he had spectators. Its meaning was not wholly
apparent. He had made it with his right hand (there was no evidence that
the mute was left-handed), and he continued to make it as if with this
movement he expected to call attention to some fact that would relieve
him from custody.
"Does he mope? Is his expression one of fear or anger?"
"It varies, sir. One minute he looks like a man on the point of falling
asleep; the next he starts up in fury, shaking his head and pounding the
walls. It's not a comfortable sight, sir. He will have to be watched
night and day."
"Let him be, and note every change in him. His testimony may not be
valid, but there is suggestion in every movement he makes. To-morrow I
will visit him myself."
The officer went out, and Mr. Gryce sat for a few moments communing with
himself, during which he took out a little package from his pocket, and
emptying out on his desk the five little spangles it contained, regarded
them intently. He had always been fond of looking at some small and
seemingly insignificant object while thinking. It served to concentrate
his thoughts, no doubt. At all events, some such result appeared to
follow the contemplation of these five sequins, for after shaking his
head doubtfully over them for a time, he made a sudden move, and
sweeping them into the envelope from which he had taken them, he gave a
glance at his watch and passed quickly into the outer office, where he
paused before a line of waiting men. Beckoning to one who had followed
his movements with an interest which had not escaped the eye of this old
reader of human nature, he led the way back to his own room.
"You want a hand in this matter?" he said interrogatively, as the door
closed behind them and they found themselves alone.
"Oh, sir--" began the young man in a glow which made his more than plain
features interesting to contemplate, "I do not presume----"
"Enough!" interposed the other. "You have been here now for six months,
and have had no opportunity as yet for showing any special adaptability.
Now I propose to test your powers with something really difficult. Are
you up to it, Sweetwater? Do you know the city well enough to attempt to
find a needle in this very big haystack?"
"I should at least like to try," was the eager response. "If I succeed
it will be a bigger feather in my cap than if I had always lived in New
York. I have been spoiling for some such opportunity. See if I don't
make the effort judiciously, if only out of gratitude."
"Well, we shall see," remarked the old detective. "If it's difficulty
you long to encounter, you will be likely to have all you want of it.
Indeed, it is the impossible I ask. A woman is to be found of whom we
know nothing save that she wore when last seen a dress heavily
bespangled with black, and that she carried in her visit to Mr. Adams,
at the time of or before the murder, a parasol, of which I can procure
you a glimpse before you start out. She came from, I don't know where,
and she went--but that is what you are to find out. You are not the only
man who is to be put on the job, which, as you see, is next door to a
hopeless one, unless the woman comes forward and proclaims herself.
Indeed, I should despair utterly of your success if it were not for one
small fact which I will now proceed to give you as my special and
confidential agent in this matter. When this woman was about to
disappear from the one eye that was watching her, she approached the
curbstone in front of Hudson's fruit store on 14th Street and lifted up
her right hand, so. It is not much of a clew, but it is all I have at my
disposal, except these five spangles dropped from her dress, and my
conviction that she is not to be found among the questionable women of
the town, but among those who seldom or never come under the eye of the
police. Yet don't let this conviction hamper you. Convictions as a rule
are bad things, and act as a hindrance rather than an inspiration."
Sweetwater, to whom the song of the sirens would have sounded less
sweet, listened with delight and responded with a frank smile and a gay:
"I'll do my best, sir, but don't show me the parasol, only describe it.
I wouldn't like the fellows to chaff me if I fail; I'd rather go quietly
to work and raise no foolish expectations."
"Well, then, it is one of those dainty, nonsensical things made of gray
chiffon, with pearl handle and bows of pink ribbon. I don't believe it
was ever used before, and from the value women usually place on such
fol-de-rols, could only have been left behind under the stress of
extraordinary emotion or fear. The name of the owner was not on it."
"Nor that of the maker?"
Mr. Gryce had expected this question, and was glad not to be
disappointed.
"No, that would have helped us too much."
"And the hour at which this lady was seen on the curbstone at Hudson's?"
"Half-past four; the moment at which the telephone message arrived."
"Very good, sir. It is the hardest task I have ever undertaken, but
that's not against it. When shall I see you again?"
"When you have something to impart. Ah, wait a minute. I have my
suspicion that this woman's first name is Evelyn. But, mind, it is only
a suspicion."
"All right, sir," and with an air of some confidence, the young man
disappeared.
Mr. Gryce did not look as if he shared young Sweetwater's cheerfulness.
The mist surrounding this affair was as yet impenetrable to him. But
then he was not twenty-three, with only triumphant memories behind him.
His next hope lay in the information likely to accrue from the published
accounts of this crime, now spread broadcast over the country. A man of
Mr. Adams's wealth and culture must necessarily have possessed many
acquaintances, whom the surprising news of his sudden death would
naturally bring to light, especially as no secret was made of his means
and many valuable effects. But as if this affair, destined to be one of
the last to engage the powers of this sagacious old man, refused on this
very account to yield any immediate results to his investigation, the
whole day passed by without the appearance of any claimant for Mr.
Adams's fortune or the arrival on the scene of any friend capable of
lifting the veil which shrouded the life of this strange being. To be
sure, his banker and his lawyer came forward during the day, but they
had little to reveal beyond the fact that his pecuniary affairs were in
good shape and that, so far as they knew, he was without family or kin.
Even his landlord could add little to the general knowledge. He had
first heard of Mr. Adams through a Philadelphia lawyer, since dead, who
had assured him of his client's respectability and undoubted ability to
pay his rent. When they came together and Mr. Adams was introduced to
him, he had been struck, first, by the ascetic appearance of his
prospective tenant, and, secondly, by his reserved manners and quiet
intelligence. But admirable as he had found him, he had never succeeded
in making his acquaintance. The rent had been uniformly paid with great
exactitude on the very day it was due, but his own visits had never been
encouraged or his advances met by anything but the cold politeness of a
polished and totally indifferent man. Indeed, he had always looked upon
his tenant as a bookworm, absorbed in study and such scientific
experiments as could be carried on with no other assistance than that of
his deaf and dumb servant.
Asked if he knew anything about this servant, he answered that his
acquaintance with him was limited to the two occasions on which he had
been ushered by him into his master's presence; that he knew nothing of
his character and general disposition, and could not say whether his
attitude toward his master had been one of allegiance or antagonism.
And so the way was blocked in this direction.
Taken into the room where Mr. Adams had died, he surveyed in amazement
the huge steel plate which still blocked the doorway, and the high
windows through which only a few straggling sunbeams could find their
way.
Pointing to the windows, he remarked:
"These were filled in at Mr. Adams's request. Originally they extended
down to the wainscoting."
He was shown where lath and plaster had been introduced and also how the
plate had been prepared and arranged as a barrier. But he could give no
explanation of it or divine the purpose for which it had been placed
there at so great an expense.
The lamp was another curiosity, and its varying lights the cause of
increased astonishment. Indeed he had known nothing of these
arrangements, having been received in the parlor when he visited the
house, where there was nothing to attract his attention or emphasize the
well-known oddities of his tenant.
He was not shown the starling. That loquacious bird had been removed to
police headquarters for the special delectation of Mr. Gryce.
Other inquiries failed also. No clew to the owner of the insignia found
on the wall could be gained at the pension office or at any of the G. A.
R. posts inside the city. Nor was the name of the artist who had painted
the portrait which adorned so large a portion of the wall a recognized
one in New York City. Otherwise a clew might have been obtained through
him to Mr. Adams's antecedents. All the drawers and receptacles in Mr.
Adams's study had been searched, but no will had been found nor any
business documents. It was as if this strange man had sought to suppress
his identity, or, rather, as if he had outgrown all interest in his kind
or in anything beyond the walls within which he had immured himself.
Late in the afternoon reports began to come in from the various
tradesmen with whom Mr. Adams had done business. They all had something
to say as to the peculiarity of his habits and the freaks of his mute
servant. They were both described as hermits, differing from the rest of
their kind only in that they denied themselves no reasonable luxury and
seemed to have adopted a shut-in life from a pure love of seclusion. The
master was never seen at the stores. It was the servant who made the
purchases, and this by means of gestures which were often strangely
significant. Indeed, he seemed to have great power of expressing himself
by looks and actions, and rarely caused a mistake or made one. He would
not endure cheating, and always bought the best.
Of his sanity up to the day of his master's death there was no question;
but more than one man with whom he had had dealings was ready to testify
that there had been a change in his manner for the past few weeks--a
sort of subdued excitement, quite unlike his former methodical bearing.
He had shown an inclination to testiness, and was less easily pleased
than formerly. To one clerk he had shown a nasty spirit under very
slight provocation, and was only endured in the store on account of his
master, who was too good a customer for them to offend. Mr. Kelly, a
grocer, went so far as to say he acted like a man with a grievance who
burned to vent his spite on some one, but held himself in forcible
restraint.
Perhaps if no tragedy had taken place in the house on ---- Street these
various persons would not have been so ready to interpret thus
unfavorably a nervousness excusable enough in one so cut off from all
communication with his kind. But with the violent end of his master in
view, and his own unexplained connection with it, who could help
recalling that his glance had frequently shown malevolence?
But this was not evidence of the decided character required by the law,
and Mr. Gryce was about to regard the day as a lost one, when Sweetwater
made his reappearance at Headquarters. The expression of his face put
new life into Mr. Gryce.
"What!" he cried, "you have not found her?"
Sweetwater smiled. "Don't ask me, sir, not yet. I've come to see if
there's any reason why I should not be given the loan of that parasol
for about an hour. I'll bring it back. I only want to make a certain
test with it."
"What test, my boy? May I ask, what test?"
"Please to excuse me, sir; I have only a short time in which to act
before respectable business houses shut up for the night, and the test I
speak of has to be made in a respectable house."
"Then you shall not be hindered. Wait here, and I will bring you the
parasol. There! bring it back soon, my boy. I have not the patience I
used to have."
"An hour, sir; give me an hour, and then----"
The shutting of the door behind his flying figure cut short his
sentence.
That was a long hour to Mr. Gryce, or would have been if it had not
mercifully been cut short by the return of Sweetwater in an even more
excited state of mind than he had been before. He held the parasol in
his hand.
"My test failed," said he, "but the parasol has brought me luck,
notwithstanding. I have found the lady, sir, and----"
He had to draw a long breath before proceeding.
"And she is what I said," began the detective; "a respectable person in
a respectable house."
"Yes, sir; very respectable, more respectable than I expected to see.
Quite a lady, sir. Not young, but----"
"Her name, boy. Is it--Evelyn?"
Sweetwater shook his head with a look as naive in its way as the old
detective's question.
"I cannot say, sir. Indeed, I had not the courage to ask. She is
here----"
"Here!" Mr. Gryce took one hurried step toward the door, then came
gravely back. "I can restrain myself," he said. "If she is here, she
will not go till I have seen her. Are you sure you have made no mistake;
that she is the woman we are after; the woman who was in Mr. Adams's
house and sent us the warning?"
"Will you hear my story, sir? It will take only a moment. Then you can
judge for yourself."
"Your story? It must be a pretty one. How came you to light on this
woman so soon? By using the clew I gave you?"
Again Sweetwater's expression took on a touch of naïveté.
"I'm sorry, sir; but I was egotistical enough to follow my own idea. It
would have taken too much time to hunt up all the drivers of hacks in
the city, and I could not even be sure she had made use of a public
conveyance. No, sir; I bethought me of another way by which I might
reach this woman. You had shown me those spangles. They were portions of
a very rich trimming; a trimming which has only lately come into vogue,
and which is so expensive that it is worn chiefly by women of means, and
sold only in shops where elaborate garnitures are to be found. I have
seen and noticed dresses thus trimmed, in certain windows and on certain
ladies; and before you showed me the spangles you picked up in Mr.
Adams's study could have told you just how I had seen them arranged.
They are sewed on black net, in figures, sir; in scrolls or wreaths or
whatever you choose to call them; and so conspicuous are these wreaths
or figures, owing to the brilliance of the spangles composing them, that
any break in their continuity is plainly apparent, especially if the net
be worn over a color, as is frequently the case. Remembering this, and
recalling the fact that these spangles doubtless fell from one of the
front breadths, where their loss would attract not only the attention of
others, but that of the wearer, I said to myself, 'What will she be
likely to do when she finds her dress thus disfigured?' And the answer
at once came: 'If she is the lady Mr. Gryce considers her, she will seek
to restore these missing spangles, especially if they were lost on a
scene of crime. But where can she get them to sew on? From an extra
piece of net of the same style. But she will not be apt to have an extra
piece of net. She will, therefore, find herself obliged to buy it, and
since only a few spangles are lacking, she will buy the veriest strip.'
Here, then, was my clew, or at least my ground for action. Going the
rounds of the few leading stores on Broadway, 23d Street, and Sixth
Avenue, I succeeded in getting certain clerks interested in my efforts,
so that I speedily became assured that if a lady came into these stores
for a very small portion of this bespangled net, they would note her
person and, if possible, procure some clew to her address. Then I took
up my stand at Arnold's emporium. Why Arnold's? I do not know. Perhaps
my good genius meant me to be successful in this quest; but whether
through luck or what not, I was successful, for before the afternoon was
half over, I encountered a meaning glance from one of the men behind the
counter, and advancing toward him, saw him rolling a small package which
he handed over to a very pretty and rosy young girl, who at once walked
away with it. 'For one of our leading customers,' he whispered, as I
drew nearer. 'I don't think she is the person you want.' But I would
take no chances. I followed the young girl who had carried away the
parcel, and by this means came to a fine brownstone front in one of our
most retired and aristocratic quarters. When I had seen her go in at the
basement door, I rang the bell above, and then--well, I just bit my lips
to keep down my growing excitement. For such an effort as this might
well end in disappointment, and I knew if I were disappointed now--But
no such trial awaited me. The maid who came to the door proved to be the
same merry-eyed lass I had seen leave the store. Indeed, she had the
identical parcel in her hand which was the connecting link between the
imposing house at whose door I stood and the strange murder in ----
Street. But I did not allow my interest in this parcel to become
apparent, and by the time I addressed her I had so mastered myself as to
arouse no suspicion of the importance of my errand. You, of course,
foresee the question I put to the young girl. 'Has your mistress lost a
parasol? One has been found--' I did not finish the sentence, for I
perceived by her look that her mistress had met with such a loss, and as
this was all I wanted to know just then, I cried out, 'I will bring it.
If it is hers, all right,' and bounded down the steps.
"My intention was to inform you of what I had done and ask your advice.
But my egotism got the better of me. I felt that I ought to make sure
that I was not the victim of a coincidence. Such a respectable house!
Such a respectable maidservant! Should she recognize the parasol as
belonging to her mistress, then, indeed, I might boast of my success. So
praying you for a loan of this article, I went back and rang the bell
again. The same girl came to the door. I think fortune favored me
to-day. 'Here is the parasol,' said I, but before the words were out of
my mouth I saw that the girl had taken the alarm or that some grievous
mistake had been made. 'That is not the one my mistress lost,' said she.
'She never carries anything but black.' And the door was about to close
between us when I heard a voice from within call out peremptorily: 'Let
me see that parasol. Hold it up, young man. There! at the foot of the
stairs. Ah!'
"If ever an exclamation was eloquent that simple 'ah!' was. I could not
see the speaker, but I knew she was leaning over the banisters from the
landing above. I listened to hear her glide away. But she did not move.
She was evidently collecting herself for the emergency of the moment.
Presently she spoke again, and I was astonished at her tone: 'You have
come from Police Headquarters,' was the remark with which she hailed me.
"I lowered the parasol. I did not think it necessary to say yes.
"'From a man there, called Gryce,' she went on, still in that strange
tone I can hardly describe, sir.
"'Since you ask me,' I now replied, 'I acknowledge that it is through
his instructions I am here. He was anxious to restore to you your lost
property. Is not this parasol yours? Shall I not leave it with this
young girl?'
"The answer was dry, almost rasping: 'Mr. Gryce has made a mistake. The
parasol is not mine; yet he certainly deserves credit for the use he has
made of it, in this search. I should like to tell him so. Is he at his
office, and do you think I would be received?'
"'He would be delighted,' I returned, not imagining she was in earnest.
But she was, sir. In less time than you would believe, I perceived a
very stately, almost severe, lady descend the stairs. She was dressed
for the street, and spoke to me with quite an air of command. 'Have you
a cab?' she asked.
"'No,' said I.
"'Then get one.'
"Here was a dilemma. Should I leave her and thus give her an opportunity
to escape, or should I trust to her integrity and the honesty of her
look, which was no common one, sir, and obey her as every one about her
was evidently accustomed to do?
"I concluded to trust to her integrity, and went for the cab. But it was
a risk, sir, which I promise not to repeat in the future. She was
awaiting me on the stoop when I got back, and at once entered the hack
with a command to drive immediately to Police Headquarters. I saw her as
I came in just now sitting in the outer office, waiting for you. Are you
ready to say I have done well?"
Mr. Gryce, with an indescribable look of mingled envy and indulgence,
pressed the hand held out to him, and passed out. His curiosity could be
restrained no longer, and he went at once to where this mysterious woman
was awaiting him. Did he think it odd that she knew him, that she sought
him? If so, he did not betray this in his manner, which was one of great
respect. But that manner suddenly changed as he came face to face with
the lady in question. Not that it lost its respect, but that it betrayed
an astonishment of a more pronounced character than was usually indulged
in by this experienced detective. The lady before him was one well known
to him; in fact, almost an associate of his in certain bygone matters;
in other words, none other than that most reputable of ladies, Miss
Amelia Butterworth of Gramercy Park.