A SIFTING OF EVIDENCE.
Both men smoke on in a brief silence that Ashley breaks with an
inquiring “Well?”
“Much,” is Barker’s smiling response. “Now, my boy,” he adds briskly, as
he extracts a bunch of writing paper from his grip and sharpens his
pencil, “tell me everything you know concerning the dramatis personae in
this drama. We will get our facts together, and then I’ll give you my
theories—for I have more than one. Go ahead.”
When Ashley has exhausted his stock of information and has hazarded one
or two ingenious theories, the detective leans back in his chair and for
the space of five minutes says not a word. Finally he turns to Ashley.
“This Hathaway mystery,” he begins, “is either simplicity itself or it
is shrouded in a veil that only the patient search and unceasing effort
of months will lift. My first glance at the case led me to believe that
the murder was the work of a professional, so swiftly had it been
accomplished and so completely had the work of the operator been covered
up. But the most earnest search has failed to discover the presence in
town on Memorial Day of any person who could possibly be regarded as a
suspicious character, except Ernest Stanley, of whom more anon.
“Then the deed must have been committed by some one in Raymond. Thus far
we have evidence affecting four men—Derrick Ames, Cyrus Felton, Ralph
Felton, and Ernest Stanley. If two of the four were implicated it could
have been only the Feltons, father and son. I do not say that any of the
four is the guilty man. But a chain of evidence must be forged about the
slayer of Roger Hathaway, and in order that this chain shall be
complete, minus not a single link, it becomes necessary for us to
establish the innocence of these four men, if they are innocent, as well
as the presumptive guilt of a fifth party, if a fifth party committed
the crime.”
“In other words, we are hampered by a superabundance of clews.”
“Exactly. I will pardon your interruption, but no more of them, unless
they are good ones. Now, your attention.
“Roger Hathaway was killed in his office in the bank on the evening of
Memorial Day, some time between 7:45 and 8:30 o’clock. No definite
minute or five minutes can be fixed. Two of our characters were, we
know, and the other two may have been, at the bank between 7:45 and
8:30. To begin with Ames. Sam Brockway tells me that he saw Ames enter
the bank after Hathaway had handed a note to the boy, Jimmie Howe.
Brockway did not stay to see Ames come out; when the latter did emerge
he was unseen. It is not unreasonable to assume that Ames killed
Hathaway as the climax of a bitter quarrel over the latter’s daughter,
and that, to facilitate his escape, he helped himself to the bank’s
funds. But it is unreasonable to assume that subsequently he induced the
daughter to elope with him. That is the weak link in that chain.”
“But suppose that the elopement was already under way; that everything
had been arranged for, hour of departure, route and conveyance,” debates
Ashley. “Would not Ames argue that solitary flight, and a failure to
carry out the prearranged plans must weigh heavily against him? An
elopement is an excellent excuse for leaving town hurriedly, you know.”
“Possible,” returns the detective. “Now, the letter which you say Louise
Hathaway received from her sister, but the contents of which she refuses
to reveal, must have contained some reference to Ames which Miss
Hathaway has reasons for concealing. At any rate, there is good ground
for suspecting that Ames knows something of the murder of Roger
Hathaway, whether or no his own hand was stained with the cashier’s
blood. Now,” says Barker, turning to the blotter and the mirror on the
table, and propping up the reflector with the water pitcher, “look that
over carefully, Ashley, and tell me what you find.”
Ashley draws his chair up to the table and examines critically the
characters on the blotter as reflected in the mirror.
“All of the words which are distinguishable were not, when blotted, on
the same sheet of paper,” he asserts. “At least two and perhaps three
sheets of paper were used. The words, ‘your personal account overdrawn,’
must have been at the bottom of one sheet and those with the signature
attached upon another, but whether top, middle, or bottom of the page is
of no consequence.”
“Very good,” approves Barker. “That was the first conclusion I arrived
at when I examined the blotter. Now, how about those words, ‘Come to the
bank immediately’?”
“Their position is not so clear to me. Their nature would indicate that
they began the letter, but if so I cannot see why they should blot and
the words following them should not appear.”
“But if they were part of another letter—what then?”
“Ah,” remarks Ashley, thoughtfully.
“I am assuming, and I think reasonably, that the blotter was first used
upon the letter or letters whose contents we are attempting to guess,”
says Barker. “There are many faint marks around the legible words, but
naturally only the words concluding each page would be distinguishable.
Those above would be either dry or in process of drying. But what else
do you deduce, Ashley?”
“Well, the writing does not display, in my opinion, undue haste or
agitation. I am not an expert in handwriting, but I should say that this
letter was written at a normal speed and by a man in a comparatively
calm condition of mind. The signature is bold and firm, as are all the
legible characters. I should also say that this letter was the one which
Roger Hathaway sent to Cyrus Felton half an hour or so before he was
found dead in his office.”
“You remember Felton’s testimony at the inquest?”
“Perfectly. He stated that the note he received contained the simple
request: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’”
“Then you think he lied to the coroner?”
“It would seem so. Unless—”
“Unless the note he received at his house on the evening of Memorial Day
did contain only that brief summons, which is contained in the five
words at the top of the blotter.”
“Precisely,” agrees Ashley. “That brings us to the question, when was
the other letter written? It must have been previous to the note
referred to at the inquest, but how many hours or days before? Let me
have your theory, Barker. My mind is already shaping a shadowy one.”
The detective chews his cigar reflectively. “Suppose that Roger Hathaway
discovered, some time ago—within a few weeks, we will say—that the
affairs of the bank were not in the condition that they should be?” he
hazards. “An examination of the books showed not only that the
president’s personal account was overdrawn, but that certain operations
of the latter had jeopardized the soundness of the institution. The
knowledge might have been expected or unexpected. In either case the
cashier realized that something had to be done, and at once. So on the
day before Memorial Day, or even earlier, he wrote a letter to the
president and couched it in plain English. He instanced the overdrawal
of the president’s personal account and a number of other unpleasant
conditions, and urged upon that gentleman the necessity for an immediate
adjustment of the critical affairs, closing with the admonition, ‘Fail
not, Cyrus Felton, at the peril of your good name.’
“Having dispatched his letter to the president, the cashier waited
anxiously for a reply. It came in the form of a call by Felton at the
residence of Hathaway the evening before Memorial Day. The interview was
a stormy one. At least we know it was not harmonious. The cashier again
set forth the necessity for immediate action. Ways and means were
discussed, but no way out of the tangle seemed clear. In desperation the
cashier suggested some unpleasant but safe method of salvation. The
president responded angrily, ‘I can’t and I won’t!’ and the cashier
answered decisively, ‘Then there is only one alternative.’ Without
waiting to discuss this alternative, the president left the house in a
temper and the cashier sat up in his library for hours afterward,
meditating on the crisis.
“Now, what was this ‘one alternative’ indicated by the cashier? Clearly
publicity of the bank’s condition and its subsequent wreck. The next day
was Memorial Day. The cashier took part in the solemn services and in
the evening he went to the bank to perform some necessary work upon the
books, the teller being ill. No word had come from the president, no
intimation that he was prepared to follow out the course pointed out the
night before, and avoid the disgrace which the wreck of the bank would
entail. Again the desperation of the situation flashed upon the cashier.
The president must act, and at once. So the cashier indited a brief but
peremptory note to the president: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’ This
he delivered to Jimmy Howe, whom he found on the bridge tossing pebbles
into the stream.
“The president answered the summons. Within the cashier’s office the
accusation, apparently so plainly indicated on this blotter, was
repeated verbally. A sharp dispute followed. Hot words led to blows. The
drawer of the cashier’s desk was open and his revolver lay in view. Can
you supply the rest?”
“But the open vault and the missing money and securities?” contends
Ashley.
“The vault may have been, probably was, already open. The missing
funds—had been missing for some little time,” replies Barker, with a
significant smile. Then he resumes:
“Felton testified that on the night of the tragedy he reached the bank
about 8:20. As he left his house about 8:05 he must have got to the bank
not far from 8:15. It is not more than ten minutes’ walk, even at an
ordinary pace. He told Sheriff Wilson, when he found the latter at the
hotel, that he discovered Hathaway ‘only a few moments ago.’ Yet the
sheriff stated to me that he was positive it was 8:35 when he was
informed of the affair. He looked at his watch when he was accompanying
Felton to the bank. Again, Felton told the coroner that ‘it did not seem
more than a minute that I spent in the bank,’ so that here we have a
hiatus of fully a quarter of an hour. Now, where was Felton during that
fifteen minutes if not in the company of Roger Hathaway? If Hathaway was
dead when Felton reached the bank, why was not the sheriff informed
earlier? You see there is an apparent discrepancy that might be
explained on the theory that Hathaway was alive when Felton entered the
bank, and that an interview of ten or fifteen minutes was ended by the
death of the cashier.”
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