To say that Waynscott was amazed on the appearance of the _News_ the
next morning would be to put it mildly. That a prominent lawyer should
be found dead in the best residence quarter of the city at the early
hour of ten, and that the police authorities should have nothing to
offer, was enough to set the whole city talking. Fullerton had not
been particularly popular, but he was a man of mark. A bachelor, he
had lived at a fashionable apartment house, the Wellington; he had no
family, no intimate friends, and there were men at his club who would
not play with him, but still he was a personage. The city buzzed with
the decorous joy of discussing a full-fledged sensation of its own.
Was it murder? Was it an accident? Had he any personal enemies? Was it
highway robbery? What were the police good for, anyhow? The result of
the coroner's inquest was awaited with the keenest interest.
The body had been taken to the morgue, and the inquest was held there
the next day. The significant testimony, as it was sifted out, was as
follows:
Donohue, the police officer, was called first. He testified that he
had been at the corner of Oak and Grant Streets when he heard the
Court House clock strike the quarter before ten. He had walked down
Oak Street one block at a slow pace, and had turned south on Sherman
Street, when his attention was caught by a gray something on the
ground at the edge of the sidewalk. At first he thought it was a large
dog. Then, as he walked toward it, he saw that it was a man fallen
against the curbing. He touched him, lifted his head, and found that
the man was not drunk but dead. He had heard no outcry, no
disturbance, no sound of running.
After satisfying himself that the man was dead he had blown his
whistle to call the officer on the next beat, and had sent him to
telephone for the patrol wagon. The first person who came up was Mr.
Lyon, but there soon was a crowd about them.
"Did you recognize the body as Mr. Fullerton?" the county attorney
asked.
"Not just at first," Donohue answered with some hesitation.
"Did you know him by sight?"
"Yes, sir."
"Yet you did not recognize him?"
"It was his coat. He didn't have that gray coat on usually,--not when
I saw him before that evening."
"When and where did you see him before that evening?"
"I was coming up Oak Street past the Wellington, and I saw Mr.
Fullerton come out with a lady. They walked so slow that I passed
them. Mr. Fullerton wore a long loose black topcoat. I noticed because
he had both his hands stuck in his pockets. So when I found the man in
a gray coat it threw me off. Afterwards--" Donohue hesitated again
over his astonishing conclusion--"afterwards we found that he had his
black coat on wrong side out. The inside was gray."
The overcoat was brought out for the jury and examined. It was a long,
loose garment, black on the outside, gray on the inner. Though not
intended for reversible wearing, it was obvious that it could have
been easily turned. The question that at once occurred to every
listener was whether the garment had been turned by Fullerton himself,
or whether it had been hastily and carelessly put on him by some one
else after he had fallen unconscious. This was obviously in the
examiner's mind when he asked next,
"Was the overcoat buttoned when you came upon him?"
"No, it was open."
"How was the body lying?"
"In a heap, as though his knees had crumpled up under him."
"Officer, did you see no one on the street from the time you left Oak
Street and Grant Street until you found the body?"
"No one but Mr. Lawrence. It is a quiet neighborhood."
"When and where did you see Mr. Lawrence?"
"On Grant Street, going toward Hemlock Avenue. He passed me while I
was standing on the corner."
"Just before you left the corner?"
"May be ten minutes before."
"If you had walked straight down Grant Street to Hemlock Avenue, down
Hemlock Avenue to Sherman Street, and up Sherman Street to the spot
where the body was found, how long would it have taken you to get
there?"
Donohue considered carefully before he answered, "About seven
minutes."
"Was Mr. Lawrence walking rapidly?"
"You might call it so."
"Officer, you spoke of seeing a lady with Mr. Fullerton when he left
the Wellington earlier in the evening. Did you recognize the lady?"
"No, sir. I did not see her face. She wore a veil."
"Did you notice anything else about her or her dress?"
"She wore a short fur coat and a muff. Her dress was dark. I noticed
as I passed by that she was crying under her veil,--sort of sobbing to
herself. That made me look sharp. Mr. Fullerton was walking kind of
swaggering, with his hands in his pockets."
"Would you know the lady if you saw her again?
"If she wore the same clothes, I might," Donohue answered somewhat
doubtfully.
The physician, Dr. Sperry, who had pronounced Fullerton dead, was next
called. He testified that he was returning from the concert, and was
on Hemlock Avenue when he heard the police whistle. When he saw the
crowd gathered on Sherman Street he had thought some one might be
hurt, and had gone up to offer his professional assistance. He had
found the man dead, with the mark of a severe blow on his temple.
"Dr. Sperry, will you describe the appearance of the wound?"
"It was a bruise rather than a wound. The temple was indented, showing
that the delicate bone there had been crushed in. The skin was broken,
and the blood had oozed down the left side of the face."
"Should you say that it was the mark of a heavy blow?"
"Yes, or a swinging blow. It was undoubtedly made by some dull
instrument, heavy enough to crush, and yet with a metallic edge that
cut the skin sharply."
"Would such a blow cause death at once?"
"Instantaneously."
"Can you say how long the man had been dead?"
"Not less than ten minutes. Not more than half an hour."
After an intimation that Dr. Sperry would be recalled later, Lyon was
called.
Lyon had made no mention of the running girl in his report for the
_News_, but he foresaw that that matter would come out in his
examination, and he hastily resolved that there was one point of
information which he would not volunteer,--the house which she had
entered. Let them ask him, if they wanted to get at that!
He testified, in answer to the preliminary questions, that he was
returning from the concert and was on Hemlock Avenue between Sherman
and Hooker Streets when he heard the policeman's whistle and ran back
to see what the disturbance was.
"You had passed the corner of Sherman Street a few minutes before?"
"Yes."
"And you saw nothing unusual?"
"I saw a man's muffler on the ground. I have turned it over to the
officers."
The muffler was produced and examined. At one place the folds were
stiff and matted together. The jury examined the stain.
"Was this spot wet when you picked the muffler up?"
"I did not notice."
"Did you see any one on the street?"
"While I was farther up on Hemlock Avenue I noticed a woman running
across the street."
"How was she dressed?"
"I was too far away to see."
"Did she wear a veil?"
"I think not. I could not swear to it, however."
"Did you see Mr. Lawrence?"
"No, not until I saw him in the crowd afterwards."
"I believe it was you who first identified the body?"
"Yes."
"Was Mr. Lawrence present when you did so?"
"Yes."
"Did you see him examine the body?"
"I did not see him touch it."
"Was he near enough to identify the body?"
"He was near enough, so far as that goes."
"He did not volunteer any information as to who the dead man was,
though he was near enough to recognize him, and presumably must have
recognized him?"
"I did not hear him say anything."
"Was the light sufficiently bright to enable you to see clearly?"
"It was rather a shadowy spot. There are lamps at the corners of the
block only. We were standing about the middle of the block."
The next witness sprung the surprise of the day. He was a boy of
eighteen, Ed Kenyon by name, who had been attracted by the quickly
spreading report of a murder. Asked to tell his story, he said:
"After the rest of the crowd had gone home, some of us fellows thought
we would hunt for the murderer, so we made up a party and looked in
all the alleys and went through some of the back yards around there.
Right across the street from where the body was found there is a
vacant lot. It is a good deal lower than the sidewalk and there is a
fence at the inside edge of the walk to keep people from falling off.
We looked over the fence and we could see that the snow had been
tramped down, as though there had been a scrap or something, so we
jumped in and explored for what we could find. When you are down
inside the lot there is a hole under the sidewalk, and we found this
poked in behind some weeds in the hole." And he produced the two
pieces of a broken cane.
Lyon happened to glance at Lawrence at that moment, and he was
startled by the look he surprised there. In an instant it was
banished, and Lawrence's face was as non-committal, as impassive, as
any in the room. But Lyon, watching him now in wonder, felt that the
passivity was fixed there by a conscious effort of the will.
The county attorney then recalled Dr. Sperry.
"In your opinion, could the fatal blow have been struck by such an
instrument as this cane?"
"It would be quite possible."
"Would such a blow be apt to break the cane?"
"That would depend on how it was held."
"Will you examine the gold knob at the end of this piece and say
whether you see anything to indicate that such a blow was actually
struck with it?"
"There are a few short hairs caught by a rough place where the metal
is joined to the wood. They look matted. It would require a scientific
examination to determine whether that is blood or not."
Arthur Lawrence was then called.
"Do you recognize this cane, Mr. Lawrence?"
"Yes, it is mine. My name is engraved around the gold top."
"Will you inform the jury when you last had it in your possession?"
"I regret to say I cannot. I lost the cane sometime ago."
"When and how did you lose it?"
"That I cannot say. I suppose I must have forgotten it somewhere. I
simply know that I have not had it in my possession for some little
time. I had missed it, but supposed it would eventually turn up and be
returned to me, as my name was on it."
"Please search your memory, Mr. Lawrence, as to the last time you had
it in your possession."
Lawrence looked thoughtful.
"I remember that I had it last Wednesday when I was in the State
Library, because I used it to reach a book on the top shelf."
"Did you leave it there?"
"I am under the impression that I took it away with me, but I have a
careless habit of forgetting canes and umbrellas, and I had an
exciting debate with Mr. Fullerton just before I left the room."
"With Warren Fullerton?"
"Yes."
"Did you leave the library with him?"
"No, I left alone. He was still there."
"You were on Sherman Street last night?"
"Yes."
"Will you give an account of your movements?"
"I was coming down Hemlock Avenue--"
"One moment. Where were you coming from?"
"I had been out for a tramp and was coming back. I had not been
anywhere in particular."
"How long had you been tramping?"
Lawrence seemed to consider his answer before he spoke. "Something
over an hour," he said.
"Were you alone all that time?"
"Yes."
"Did you see any one to speak to?"
"I spoke to Officer Donohue as I was coming back. I don't remember
noticing any one else on my walk."
"You may resume your account. You say you were coming down Hemlock
Avenue,--"
"I was midway between Grant and Sherman Streets when I heard the
policeman's whistle and I ran down to Sherman Street to see what the
trouble was."
"Did you see Mr. Lyon on Hemlock Avenue?"
"Yes."
"Where was he?"
"He was going down the street ahead of me."
"Mr. Lyon has testified that he was between Sherman and Hooker Streets
when the whistle was heard. That would put him nearly a block ahead of
you. Did you identify him at that distance?"
"He was not so far away when I first saw him."
"Where was he when you first saw him?"
"On Hemlock Avenue between Grant and Sherman Streets."
"Then you stood still, practically, while he walked a block?"
"He was certainly walking at a faster pace."
"Was there any one else on the street?"
"I saw no one except the girl who ran across Hemlock Avenue, of whom
Mr. Lyon spoke."
"Can you describe her?"
"No. I was farther from her than Lyon was."
"When you heard the policeman's whistle, did you go at once to the
spot?"
"No, I paid no attention to it at first. Afterwards, when I saw a
crowd was gathering, I fell in with the rest to see what had
happened."
"Did you recognize the body when you came up?"
"Yes."
"Did you have any reason for refraining from so stating?"
"I was shocked and startled to see who the man was. I had no definite
reason, either for speaking or for silence."
"What were your personal relations with Mr. Fullerton?"
"We were not friendly."
"When did you speak to him last?"
"Yesterday morning, in the Court House."
"What was the nature of your conversation at that time?"
"It was of rather a violent nature," said Lawrence, with the slightest
drawl. "I had occasion to slap his face."
The boys who had been with Ed Kenyon were called to corroborate his
story of finding the broken cane. Lawrence had changed his seat, and
now sat beside Lyon. He gave no sign of recognition at first, but
after a few minutes, when there was a buzz of talk in the room, he
turned to Lyon and said, with a casual air that could not conceal his
intention,
"You see what this is leading to. They will arrest me for the murder
before I leave the room. Don't answer me. Only listen and remember. I
am going to ask you to do me a favor,--the very greatest favor that
any living man could do me. I want you to go to the house that girl
entered and tell her that I am sending her word by you to keep from
speaking of this affair. Make her understand that she must volunteer
no information, make no explanation, say nothing, no matter what
happens. She will hear of my arrest. Make her understand that arrest
is a long way off from conviction. Make that as strong as you can.
Tell her that no jury in the world would convict on such evidence.
Make light of the whole thing as much as possible, but tell her that I
implore and entreat--I would use a stronger word if I dared--that she
say nothing to any one at any time in regard to this whole matter. To
you I will say--and remember this--that I would rather die than to
have her name entangled in this affair in any manner. I'll make a
fight for it first, of course, but literally, I would rather go
through with it to the bitter end than to have her life darkened by
any shadow, and this would be a shadow that could never be lifted. If
I could speak more strongly, I would. I am trusting this to you
because I must get word to her at once and convincingly, and I dare
not write,--and because I believe you are my friend. Her name is Edith
Wolcott."
And before Lyon could frame any answer, Lawrence had slightly moved
his position again, so as to put a space between them.
Lyon listened to the remaining testimony with attentive ears but a
throbbing brain. He had been suddenly swept into the very center of
the mystery. He knew no more than before, but knowledge was all around
him, pressing against the thin walls of his ignorance. His own share
in the evening's events suddenly became significant. Lawrence had made
no mistake in choosing his envoy. Neither had he made any mistake in
his diagnosis of the situation. Before he left the room, he had been
arrested for the murder of Warren Fullerton.