Testimony
“It’s inconceivable, it’s impossible, it’s incredible!” Richard Bates
declared. “I’ll never believe it! Mrs Everett, even if she had the will,
could never accomplish such a deed!”
“But that Kate person could,” Zizi suggested, and Bates turned to her.
“But Mr Wise doesn’t accuse the maid,—he accuses the daughter! A
gentle, innocent young girl——”
“Now, wait a minute,” put in Wise; “I don’t say the daughter was at
fault,—she might have been a tool without knowing it. I mean, she may
have kept watch for her mother——”
“What do you mean,—kept watch? Miss Everett is not a numskull to be
told to ‘keep watch’ and blindly obey.”
“Nor is Mrs Everett ninny enough to expect that,” Wise returned. “But
the lady is clever enough to persuade her daughter to keep a lookout on
some plausible pretense——”
“But I don’t understand,” Bates persisted; “just how do you reconstruct
the crime,—on that theory?”
“Why, say Mrs Everett was in waiting, till Binney should come in——”
“Where was she?” Bates demanded.
“Perhaps behind one of the big pillars in the onyx lobby,—a dozen
people could hide behind them——”
“Rubbish! But go on.”
“Well, say she hid there with the knife, which she had procured from
Binney earlier,—he admired her, you know——”
“He admired every pretty woman. Go on.”
“And then, when Vail came in, and Moore took him up, the coast was
clear, and just then Binney happened in——”
“Strange that he should happen in just then!”
“Well, but he _did_, didn’t he? He _had_ to, didn’t he, to get there at
all? You don’t think he was hiding there _waiting_ to be killed, do you?
Well, then Binney came in, and the lady,—or her maid, Kate,—stepped
out and stabbed him, and then ran up the stairs,—and in the halls Miss
Everett was watching to see that there was no one looking on. She need
not have known what her mother was up to,—but—she was seen in the
halls that night by two separate witnesses.”
“Are you sure it was Miss Everett they saw?” asked Bates in a tone of
anxiety rather than surprise.
“Positive; they described her dress and ornaments exactly.”
“But she might have been in the halls for any purpose——”
“At two o’clock in the morning?”
“She might have missed her mother from the apartment and stepped out to
look for her.”
“But then she would have been in negligée or with a wrap over her
nightclothes. She was seen fully dressed, as she had been in the
evening.”
“Well,” and Bates spoke defiantly, “what does it prove? You haven’t
fastened the crime on Mrs Everett yet. You haven’t even any real
evidence against her.”
“Oh, yes we have,—but look here, Mr Bates. It won’t do for you to take
that antagonistic attitude toward me and my work. As you know, I told
you I must follow wherever the trail leads, and this indicative
direction must be followed up. It may be that the Everetts are not the
‘women,’ and if so, I’ll find that out. But I may say, that so far,
there are, to my mind, no women suspects but the Everetts or—your
aunt.”
“I’d rather you’d suspect my aunt! I’d rather the criminal should be my
aunt——”
“But, Mr Bates, I can’t consult your preferences as to the identity of
the criminal!”
“Now, don’t you worry, Mr Bates,” Zizi said, gently, “I don’t believe
your sweetheart or her mother are mixed up in this thing at all.”
“Why, Ziz?” and Wise turned a mild, questioning glance her way. He had
great faith in the opinions of his little helper, and was always ready
to revise his own judgment if hers contradicted it. For Zizi never spoke
thoughtlessly or without reason. And this last remark of hers indicated
some knowledge or indication that might turn the trend of suspicion.
“Because that little fluff of a Mrs Everett is too good-natured to kill
or to direct the killing of anybody.”
“She isn’t so awfully good-natured!” exclaimed Bates, involuntarily.
“You should hear her talk to my aunt!”
“Oh, yes, I know about that feud thing,” and Zizi smiled tolerantly;
“but that’s a sort of obsession or idiosyncrasy of the two women.
Really, Mrs Everett is a good-natured lady, and you needn’t have any
fights with your mother-in-law, unless you make them yourself.”
“Don’t be flippant, Zizi,” warned Wise. “This isn’t the time for
banter.”
“It’s the time for action,” said Zizi, springing from her seat. “I’m
going straight to Miss Prall with the whole story, and I think we’ll
learn a lot. Are you men coming with me?”
Like sheep, Bates and Wise followed her.
Pennington Wise was really more at a loss than he had ever before found
himself. The indisputable evidence of the dying man’s message was all he
really had to work on, and his work on that was not productive, so far,
of success. The women accused _must_ be found. But Wise, while he
realized there were no other suspects, couldn’t think the two ladies of
Feud fame were the ones.
True enough, they could both be said to have had motive, and, in the
house, anybody could be said to have had opportunity, yet both motive
and opportunity were slight ones, and the latter largely dependent on a
convenient chance.
It seemed absurd to think of Mrs Everett,—or Kate Holland,—waiting
behind a pillar, and then seeing the victim walk in! And yet he had
walked in; somebody had met him and stabbed him, so the other
suppositions were, at least, plausible.
The three went to the Prall apartment, and, strange to say, found Miss
Letitia in a quiet, placid mood.
She looked at them with a sort of wondering interest, and bade them be
seated.
“You’ve been here several days, now, Mr Wise,” she said; “have you made
any real progress?”
“It’s hard to say, Miss Prall,” the detective replied; “but if you’ll
give me the benefit of your opinions I may derive help from them.”
“Opinions on what?” and the sharp old face began to show its more usual
expression of asperity.
“On whether the murder of Sir Herbert was the work of Mrs Everett or
not.”
“Of course it was! I don’t say Adeline Everett held the knife, but she
was the instigator and commander-in-chief.”
“What makes you think so?”
“Because I know her. I know her soft, purring ways, and I know of the
tiger’s claws that are inside her velvet grasp.”
“Well, it seems strange, does it not, that she says pretty much the same
about you?”
“Me! Adeline Everett accuses me?”
“Yes; she says that perhaps you didn’t actually strike the blow, but
that you were aided and abetted by your companion——”
“That Eliza! She wouldn’t kill a fly, and Adeline knows it!”
“She suggested that your nephew might have helped you in the actual
crime——”
“Look here, Mr Wise, you’re talking mighty queer talk. I suppose murders
and killings are so much a part of your life that you think little of
one more or less; but it isn’t so with quiet, law-abiding citizens. And
if you think I’m going to take this accusation of another woman calmly,
you’re very much mistaken. I’m going at once to see Adeline Everett, and
if she did say that to you,—if you haven’t misrepresented or
exaggerated——”
“But wait a minute, Miss Prall. You are angry,—and perhaps justly
so,—at her accusation of you. Remember that you’ve also accused her of
the same crime!”
Letitia Prall looked at him. “That’s true,” she said; “now, as a
detective, you can judge between us. I’ll go to her rooms or you may
bring her here, and let us accuse each other. We can’t both be guilty,
and I can judge from her manner whether she is or not, even if you can’t
do that.”
“It would be a good test,” agreed Wise. “But I’m pretty sure that if
either of you really is the guilty person that you will be able to
pretend you are not, so plausibly as to deceive Sherlock Holmes
himself!”
“I could easily fool you if I wished to,” said Miss Prall, with dignity,
“but in this instance I’ve no occasion to do so.”
Zizi looked up at this, and said, “You could fool a man, Miss Prall, but
you couldn’t fool me.”
“Why not, child?” and the older lady looked at her curiously.
“Because one woman understands another. And I know that if you planned
to or wanted to kill a man, you would choose to do it in some less
conspicuous place than the onyx lobby.”
“Nonsense, Zizi,” Wise said, “no one would choose their own
apartment——”
“No; but Miss Prall would have waited for a chance on some of these
upper floors,—she never would have arranged the scene downstairs.”
“You’re right, girl,” said Letitia Prall, “though it’s uncanny for you
to think that out. I’ve wondered many times why any one chose so public
a place.”
“But that showed cleverness,” Wise insisted. “You see for yourself how
difficult of solution it makes the mystery. It gives room for assumption
that some one came in from the street.”
“There’s room for that assumption, if you like,” Zizi declared, “but
what’ve you got to back it up? Nothing.”
“What have you got to back up any theory?” cried Bates. “Nothing.”
“Then let’s get something!” exclaimed Letitia, rising from her chair.
“Come on with me to Mrs Everett’s and we’ll get something to back up
some theory, I’ll be bound!”
Glad of the chance,—for which he had maneuvered,—to see the two
inimical women together, Wise followed the others to the Everett
apartment.
The meeting between the two would have been comical, but for the
underlying element of tragedy that pervaded the whole situation.
“Why are you here, Letitia Prall?” was Mrs Everett’s greeting.
“To ask you why you accused me of murder,” answered Miss Prall, her
manner more the Grenadier than ever. “I’m told you sit in judgment on me
and I ask an explanation.”
“The facts explain themselves,” returned the blonde little lady; “it’s
not hard to understand why I think you killed a man whom you had often
expressed a desire to see dead!”
“Huh!” sniffed Miss Prall. “I’ve often expressed a desire to see you
dead,—but I haven’t killed you—yet! You know perfectly well, Adeline,
that saying I wish a person dead, is merely a habit of mine,—as you say
‘I nearly died when I heard it!’ Now, you didn’t nearly die at all, and
death is not so trivial as we seem to think it, when we talk so at
random. Lots of people, especially women, throw around phrases such as,
‘I thought I’d die,’ or ‘I could kill you for that,’ without any real
meaning to the words at all. So, once and for all, Adeline Everett, stop
using those silly phrases as evidence of my criminal tendencies! And
suspicion thus being lifted from me, I denounce you as the one who
killed Sir Herbert. And I have far more reason, for you were not only
interested in his demise because of the affair between your daughter and
my nephew but you had an ax of your own to grind. You wanted Sir Herbert
for your husband. Yes, you may well blush——”
“Hush up, Letitia Prall! Am I to be insulted in my own house? Are the
raving words, the wicked thoughts of a misguided, vicious woman to be
believed by those who hear them? I protest! I,—shut up, Letitia!”
For Miss Prall was talking at the same time, and her biting, scathing
words were only unheard because of the higher pitch and louder tone of
Mrs Everett’s voice.
The audience undertook to pour oil on the troubled waters but with no
success.
“Keep still, Richard,” Miss Prall ordered, when Bates began, “Please,
Auntie——”
And Mrs Everett screamed “Shut up!” to Zizi, who, almost laughing at the
strange scene, endeavored to placate one or both the combatants.
“You know you tried your best,” declared the irate spinster, “you know
you inveigled him in here, you wheedled and cajoled and fawned and
flattered——”
“How well you know the process!” screamed Mrs Everett; “because you
tried all your own pitiful, ineffectual cajoleries,—and all to no
avail! I didn’t have to make any effort to entice Sir Herbert to call on
me,—indeed, he came so frequently, I was forced to dissuade him, lest
people talk——”
“People always talk about you,—and rarely in flattering terms! You are
well known through the house for what you are, and if you weren’t
already planning to leave, you would be put out,—that I happen to
know.”
“You don’t know any such thing. You made that up——”
“I didn’t!”
“You did!”
“Hush!” Wise’s peremptory tone brought a momentary silence. “Now that
you’ve reached the stage of silly vituperation, it’s time to call a
halt. This foolishness is uninteresting as well as unpleasant. You two
ladies will answer a few questions,—in the name of the law!”
The last phrase, high sounding and threatening, had its desired effect.
Like most women, they had a hearty and healthy fear of that mysterious
thing called the law, and when it was held over their heads it acted as
a rod.
“You have accused one another of the murder of Sir Herbert,” Wise began,
trying to sound formal and awe-inspiring. “Have you, Mrs Everett, any
grounds for such accusation other than a foolish speech about wishing
the man was dead?”
“No,” was the sulky answer; “that is, I have no definite grounds, but
I’ve known Letitia Prall for many years and I know her to be quite
capable of murder or any other crime!”
“A belief in capability is not evidence,” said Wise, sternly, and turned
to Letitia.
“Have you, Miss Prall, definite evidence against Mrs Everett that you
accuse her?”
“She wanted the man dead——”
“That’s not evidence!” Wise fairly thundered; “answer my question.”
“Well, then, I’ve no eye-witness proof of her crime, but I do know that
her daughter was out in the hall, keeping watch——”
“Keeping watch over what—or whom?”
“Keeping watch to see that the way was clear; that her mother might
return unseen from the ground floor to her own apartment by way of the
stairs.”
“You mean you think Mrs Everett walked up seven flights of stairs after
the deed?”
“I couldn’t do it,” admitted plump Mrs Everett, drawing deep breaths at
the mere thought of such a thing.
“Nonsense!” retorted Miss Prall. “There’s only six flights, and they’re
easy steps. But, if not for that, what _was_ Dorcas out in the hall for,
all dressed, at that time of night?”
“She wasn’t, so far as I know,” replied the mother.
“It all hinges on that,” declared Wise, with as much earnestness as if
he believed himself what he was saying.
As a matter of fact he was striving, so far in vain, to gather some
hint, some side light as to which way to look for the criminal, for he
did not really think either of these women guilty, in deed or intent.
“What do you mean—all hinges on that?” Zizi asked, in rather a loud,
clear tone.
Wise took her hint,—it was a standing arrangement with them,—and
answered in an equally loud voice:
“I mean, that if the presence of Miss Everett in the hall that night can
be innocently explained, it will save Mrs Everett from——”
“From arrest!” spoke up Letitia, grimly.
“Arrest!” Mrs Everett gasped, and burst into hysterical weeping.
Zizi’s covert glance toward an inner door was rewarded and Dorcas flung
it wide open and ran into the room.
“I can explain it!” she cried, “I’ve been listening, and I’ll tell. I
was in the hall late that night, but it wasn’t as late as two o’clock.
Whoever says it was tells an untruth. I was in the hall about midnight
to,—to meet somebody.”
“Me,” said Bates, calmly. “This is no time for hiding any facts. I
wanted to see Dorcas on a special and important matter. She had tried
all the evening to get away from her mother but that lady was too
watchful, so Dorcas sent me word by a maid that she would grant me a
moment’s interview in the hall after her people were asleep. This she
did, and while we have no wish to exploit it, yet it was nothing wrong.
Dorcas is my affianced wife, and as her mother is not in favor of our
union it has been necessary for us to meet clandestinely.”
“And this was about midnight?” asked Wise, apparently not interested in
the clandestine part of it.
“Yes, not any later.”
“It was twelve when I got back to my room,” averred Dorcas. “Any one who
tells a different story is making it up.”
There was no doubting the statement of the clear young voice or the
truth stamped on the sweet young face, and all present believed her.
Mrs Everett forebore to chide, so interested was she in learning if this
confession would clear her from suspicion.
“We must look up the girl who told the story,” said the detective. “The
statement was about a veiled figure, and the assertion that it was Miss
Everett was not from a dependable source. But I believe Miss Everett
implicitly, and I want to see about some other details before I go
further in the matter at all.
“I’ll see that girl who told you the yarn, Penny,” Zizi said,
thoughtfully; “you go and look up those other people,—you know——”
“Very well, go ahead. It was Molly.”
“Of course it was. She’s a _News-Herald_. If you want to know _anything_
ask Molly. I’m going to ask her now.”
“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Dorcas, looking a little nervous and
agitated.
“Come along,” said Zizi, smiling at her, and Zizi’s smile was full of
comfort and cheer.
Mrs Everett began to say, “Oh, no, my child,” but before she could
protest Dorcas and Zizi had left the room.
“You see,” Zizi began to the other girl as they went to Zizi’s room,
“Molly is crooked.”
“Lame?”
“No,” and Zizi smiled at such ignorance of crime slang. “No, that means
she isn’t honest or, rather, honorable. She makes up yarns to suit
herself, and often to suit some one else who pays well for being suited.
Now, we’ll get her in here and quiz her, and you say little or nothing
at first, until we see what’s doing.”
Molly was summoned and Zizi began in a straightforward way:
“Molly, you saw some one in the halls the night of the Binney murder.
You’ve said it was Miss Everett. Here’s Miss Everett, do you still say
so?”
“Lord, no, Miss. I’ve found out who it was, and it was a man.”
“You said a woman.”
“I know I did, but I—I made a mistake. It was sorta dark, you know.”
“And you take back the statement that you saw a woman?”
“I do, miss.”
“Who paid you to do that?”
“Nobody, miss.” Molly’s round, blue eyes seemed truthful, but Zizi was
not sure.
“Well, now that you’ve decided you saw a man, who was the man?”
“That I don’t know—for sure.”
“Who do you think it was,—or, might have been?”
“I’m not saying,—for why should I make trouble for an innercent human
bein’?”
“You’re stalling until you see whether we’ll pay you more for your
information or he’ll pay you more to suppress it! Now, you’re foolish to
act like that, for nine chances out of ten it was an innocent man,
anyway.”
“Oh, no, miss; oh, no!”
“What do you mean by that?”
“The man was up to no good. He was searching in Sir Binney’s room.”
“Oh, he was. Then tell us his name, or the Law will make you do so.”
“You ain’t the Law, miss. I’ll be goin’ now, and when the Law has
anythin’ to say to me, lemmeno.”
“But wait a moment,” said Dorcas; “just tell me this. Did the man get
what he wanted from Sir Herbert’s room?”
“Yes,—I mean, I don’t know. How should I know?”
Angry at the slip she had carelessly made, Molly ran away and was down
the hall and around a corner before the girls realized she had gone.
“I know what they’re after,” said Dorcas. “Suppose I tell you,—and
perhaps we can do something to help along.”