WHAT THE CONFIDENTIAL CLERK KNEW.
“In order to get down to the facts in this case,” began Nick, addressing
the young man, “it will be necessary to apply for information to those
who are supposed to be in possession of the knowledge we seek. We have,
therefore, called you in first to set us on the way in our inquiry.”
“I am ready to answer any question which it is in my power to do?”
responded the young man, trying hard to repress his nervousness.
“What is your name?”
“Oscar Gay.”
“What is your business?”
“Confidential clerk.”
“For whom?”
“Bridgely & Byke.”
“Where are Messrs. Bridgely & Byke now?”
“Mr. Byke is in Europe--has been away about one month.”
“And Bridgely?”
“Bridgely has been dead more than a year.”
“Then Byke represents the firm as it existed before the death of the
senior partner--he constitutes the firm?”
Gay hesitated and shuffled uneasily in his seat for a few moments before
he replied:
“The firm name remains the same, but Mr. Byke has a partner.”
“Who?”
“Victor Redway.”
“The man I found in this room with you a while ago?”
“Yes.”
“This Redway, do I understand you, took a place in the firm after
Bridgely’s death?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And before that?”
“He was the confidential clerk of the firm.”
“Then you succeeded in the place made vacant by him when he was admitted
to partnership by Mr. Byke?”
“I did.”
“Now, Mr. Gay, who was that dead girl--she was scarcely more than a
girl.”
“Her name was Estelle Langdon. She was the office stenographer and
type-writer.”
“Where did she live?”
“Somewhere up in Harlem.”
“Was she married?”
Gay’s eyes gave a quick flash toward Nick’s face at this question--a
fact the detective mentally noted without pretending to notice it. The
answer came almost immediately.
“Not that anybody was aware of.”
“Has she relatives?”
“None--I believe.”
“How long have you known her?”
“About six months since she came here.”
“What do you know about the way she died?”
“Nothing, except what I saw as I entered the office just before you
came.”
“Tell us what that was--what you saw.”
“The body was lying there just as it is now. Mr. Redway was near by on
the side next to the window. When I entered, his body was in a bent
position, and one hand was extended toward the pistol on the floor.”
“About to pick it up?”
“Either that, or had just laid it down.”
Nick came to a dead halt in his queries at this answer, and sat for
thirty seconds looking Gay straight in the face. The latter became
plainly uncomfortable under the detective’s glance.
“Did you ever see that pistol before?” inquired Nick, when he once more
continued his examination.
“I did.”
“To whom did it belong?”
“To Victor Redway.”
“But the initials ‘E. L.,’ how do you account for them?”
“I can’t account for them. They were on the pistol as long as I knew
Redway to possess it.”
“How long is that?”
“Several months.”
“Did Redway carry this pistol regularly?”
“He never carried it.”
“Then where did he keep it?”
“In the drawer of his desk over there.”
Gay nodded to the flat-topped desk setting against the wall to the right
of the open window, and almost directly behind the corpse.
“You are sure of that statement?”
“Yes, I have seen it there often.”
“Didn’t he keep the desk locked?”
“No. I never knew him to carry a key to the desk.”
“Then Miss Langdon could have got the pistol herself had she chosen?”
“I suppose so.”
“What was the relationship of Redway and Miss Langdon?”
“What do you mean?”
“Were they on friendly terms?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Very confidential?”
“No, hardly that, I guess. Not in the presence of any one else, anyhow.”
“Might they have been lovers?”
“If they were, no one knew it.”
“Did they ever quarrel?”
“Not to my knowledge.”
“They occupied this office together?”
“Yes.”
“Where is your desk?”
“In that other private office,” pointing to an adjoining room into which
a door gave communication a little to the right of the desk on which the
body lay, and separated from the office they were in by a heavy division
wall. The door was closed, but a transom above the door stood wide open,
as Nick was quick to note.
He lost no time in fixing in his mind the location of this room in its
connection with the other two.
It formed the L to the suite, and had no direct communication with the
large or general office. There were two doors only to this third room.
One connected it with the room in which the body was found and the other
opened into the hall.
Therefore, to get into that room, it was necessary to enter either
directly from the hall or through both the other offices.
“This is Mr. Byke’s private office, I suppose?”
“Yes.”
“And you, as his confidential clerk, have your desk in there?”
“Only in his absence; when he is at home, I occupy a desk in the large
office.”
“Were you in there at your desk to-day?”
“Not since noon.”
“You were absent since noon?”
“Yes, until I returned just in time to be ‘in at the death.’”
There was a bad attempt to smile, as this was said, but the smile was
painfully forced.
“Then you know nothing about the manner of the tragedy?”
“Nothing.”
“You and Redway were exchanging hot words when I surprised you. What was
it that passed between you?”
“I accused him of having killed Miss Langdon.”
“And what reply did he make?”
“He was insolent. Asked me what I intended to do about it, and wanted to
know what proofs I had to fortify my charges.”
“And then?”
“You came almost before I could reply.”
“And have you any proofs?”
“Nothing but suspicion.”
“On what is that suspicion based?”
“Well, I’ve noticed that Miss Langdon has been growing fond of him for
the last few months. She showed it frequently. I imagined that he at
first received her preferences with pleasure, but that of late they had
become annoying to him.”
“That is the result of observation only?”
“That is all. I may be mistaken, too, you know.”
“Has Redway a family?”
“Do you mean is he married?”
“Yes. Has he a wife, children, or relatives with whom he lives?”
“I believe not--not that any one knows of.”
“Where does he live?”
“In bachelor apartments on Fifty-fifth street.”
“That will do for the present, Mr. Gay.”
The young man arose, and started to go into the other private room by
way of the communicating door, but Nick stopped him.
“Not there, Mr. Gay. You will be so kind as to remain in the outer
office until we have questioned the other parties.”
Gay scowled and went reluctantly back to the large office.
Nick gave the coroner a significant look, and remarked:
“He seems to be very anxious to get into that closed room, but he’ll not
do it till I’ve had a look in there first myself.”
“What do you make of this Oscar Gay?” asked the coroner.
“Nothing--yet. We’ll now see what Victor Redway has to say.”