An Appeal for Advice
A cold plunge wiped away the last vestiges of sleepiness, and ten
minutes later, I joined Godfrey in the dining-room, where he had ordered
lunch for both of us, and where we could talk undisturbed, since we were
its only occupants.
"I've been up only a few minutes myself," he began as I sat down. "But I
didn't get to bed till nearly noon. There was too much to do, this
morning."
"Tell me about it," I said. "I'm anxious to hear the developments."
"There aren't any."
"But you've cleared up the mystery of the murder?"
"Cleared it up! My dear Lester, we haven't been able to take the first
step toward clearing it up! We know the unknown was shot, but as to who
shot him, and why, we're utterly at sea."
"Once establish his identity----"
"That's just what we can't do. But perhaps I'd better tell you the whole
story."
"Yes, do," I said. "That's what I want to hear."
"Well," he began, "after I left you, I hurried downtown toward the
telegraph office, and it wasn't until I'd gone quite a way that I met a
patrolman. I stopped just long enough to tell him that he was needed at
the Kingdon place, for my time was getting short, and I couldn't afford
to waste a minute. It wasn't until afterwards that I thought of the
equivocal position you'd be in when the police arrived."
"I was certainly under suspicion," I laughed, "but there was no harm
done."
"After I got off my message, I stopped here at the hotel, and cleaned
up, for I was really a sight. I learned from the clerk that you'd
already arrived in custody of a policeman. I peeped in at you, and found
you sleeping like a log, not disturbed in the least by the presence of
the sentinel."
"The result of a clear conscience," I pointed out.
"So I told the cop, after he'd related your adventure with the chief.
Then I hurried back to the Kingdon place, and found that the coroner had
just arrived. He's an ambitious young fellow, named Haynes, and is
cleverer than the run of coroners. I introduced myself, told him what I
knew of the case and of your connection with it, and persuaded him to
recall the officer who was guarding you."
"The only thing that bothered me," I said, "was to explain our presence
in the house. How did you do it?"
Godfrey laughed.
"Oh, easily enough. We yellow journalists, you know, bear the reputation
of pausing at nothing. We're also credited with a sort of second sight
when it comes to nosing out news. I encouraged Haynes to believe that I
possessed both these characteristics. I dwelt upon the suspicious
circumstance of the light in the cellar, and led him to think that we
saw from the outside considerably more than we really did see. I didn't
tell him the whole truth, because I didn't want him to connect this
affair in any way with Miss Lawrence's disappearance. I want to work
that out for myself--it's my private property."
I nodded; neither did I desire that Miss Lawrence's name should be
connected with this tragedy--not, at least, until there was some
positive evidence against her. And I hoped against hope, knowing
Godfrey's persistence and cleverness, that no such evidence would be
found.
"After I'd convinced the coroner of our disinterested motives,"
continued Godfrey, "we went down to the cellar together, and, with the
help of a couple of policemen, dug up the body. One of the policemen
happened to be Clemley, who'd been stationed at the Lawrence place, and
he identified the man at once as the one who had asked him the way to
the Kingdon house. We got him out--and a good load he was--stripped back
his clothes, and found that he'd been shot in the breast. The wound was
a very small one, and there had been little external bleeding. There
were no burns upon the clothing, so the shot was fired from a distance
of at least five feet. The police surgeon ran in his probe, and found
that the bullet had passed directly through the heart, so that death was
instantaneous. From the expression of the face, I should say that the
victim had no suspicion of his danger--you remember that leer of
self-satisfaction. The course of the bullet was downward, which would
seem to indicate that he was sitting in a chair at the time, while his
murderer was standing up. He had been dead more than twenty-four hours.
The clay of the cellar was nearly as hard as rock, which accounts for
the fact that Harriet Kingdon was so long getting him buried."
"And it was she who fired the shot," I said, with conviction. "Marcia
Lawrence had nothing to do with it."
"Do you believe Lucy Kingdon knew anything about it?" he asked, looking
at me keenly.
"No--I'm sure she didn't."
"Then you apparently believe that one woman of only ordinary strength
could handle a body which taxed two strong men to lift! I tell you,
Lester, Harriet Kingdon unaided couldn't have taken that body to the
cellar and laid it in that grave. If Lucy Kingdon didn't aid her, who
did?"
"I don't know," I answered. "But it wasn't who you think."
"Well, I hope it wasn't--but I don't see any other way out."
"You don't know all the facts, yet," I pointed out. "And I'm not so sure
that Harriet Kingdon couldn't have handled the body alone. She didn't
have to lift it, but just drag it down the stairs and tumble it into the
hole. She could have done that, and removed the traces afterwards."
"But the body wasn't tumbled into the hole--it was laid in. Did you
notice its position--the feet were toward the inner wall. Do you suppose
she'd have dragged him by his legs?"
"She might have done anything, in her excitement," I persisted doggedly.
"You can't reason about what a woman would do under such circumstances."
"Perhaps not," Godfrey admitted; "but Haynes was struck with the idea,
too, that Harriet Kingdon must have had an accomplice. He believes, of
course, that the accomplice was her sister. I let him keep on believing
so--she can clear herself easily enough when the time comes; but just at
present I want him to think he knows the whole story."
"Yes," I agreed, "that's the best--keep the bomb from bursting as long
as you can."
"I'm not keeping it from bursting; but I can't explode it until I get it
properly charged. I see you're hoping I never will."
"Not with that charge!" I said fervently.
"Well, we won't talk about it now," said Godfrey, smiling at my
earnestness. "After the coroner had looked over the ground and got his
data, we lugged the body upstairs and examined it. It was that of a man
of about fifty, well-preserved, but showing marks of dissipation. The
tip of the little finger on his left hand was missing, as Clemley had
said. From his complexion, hair, and general appearance I should say
that he was undoubtedly an Italian. I've already told you how he was
killed."
"And you couldn't identify him."
"No."
"Nothing in his clothes--no letter, or anything of that sort?"
"Not a thing. There was some loose money in the trousers pockets, a
knife, a small comb, and a few other odds and ends, but no watch nor
pocketbook nor papers. However, I believe there had been. I fancied that
the inside pocket of the coat had been turned out and then hastily
shoved in again. One of the vest buttons was unbuttoned, and the lower
left-hand pocket of the vest certainly showed that a watch had been
carried in it."
"You mean these things had been removed?"
"I certainly do."
"But what was the motive of it all?" I demanded desperately.
"I don't know; I can't see clearly; but I'm sure of one thing, and that
is that it will lead back to Marcia Lawrence."
"I don't believe it!" I retorted. "I don't----"
The door opened and the clerk came in.
"Somebody wants you at the 'phone, Mr. Lester," he said; "long
distance," and he led the way to the booth.
It was Mr. Royce, and not until that moment did I remember that my
absence from the office was unexplained.
"I _was_ a little worried at first," he said, in answer to my question,
"but when I saw that special from Elizabeth in the _Record_ this
morning, I began to understand, especially when I called up your
landlady, and found you'd left the house in a hurry last night after
getting a telegram."
"Yes, it was from Godfrey."
"What's up? The clerk down there told me this morning that you'd come in
about daybreak looking like you'd been digging a sewer, and that a
policeman was guarding you in your room."
"Yes, I was suspected of murder for a while, but I'm not under guard any
longer. I'll get back to the office as soon as I can."
"Oh, take your time--I'm getting along fairly well. Of course I've read
the papers--there's no connection between this affair and that other
one, is there, Lester?"
"Godfrey thinks so," I answered, glancing around to make sure that the
door of the booth was securely closed. "He thinks the dead man was Miss
L.'s husband, and half believes she killed him."
I could hear Mr. Royce's inarticulate exclamation of disgust and anger.
"But of course that's all moonshine," I added.
"Moonshine! I should say so! Now, Lester, I want you to stay there till
you get this thing straightened out, if only for Curtiss's sake. I know
you can prove that any such theory as that is all bosh."
"I'll try to," I answered him, and hung up the receiver; but I confess
that I was not at all sure of my ability to accomplish the task.
As I left the booth, the clerk came toward me.
"There's a gentleman inquiring for you, Mr. Lester," he said. "He was
here about noon asking for you, but wouldn't have you disturbed. He's
over here in the parlour, waiting for you."
I followed him to the door of the parlour.
"This is Mr. Lester," he said to a white-haired old man who was pacing
nervously up and down, and left us alone together.
For a moment I did not recognise him, then as he came forward into the
clearer light, I found myself looking down into the face of Dr.
Schuyler.
"My dear Mr. Lester," he said, advancing with outstretched hand, "I hope
you will pardon this intrusion."
"It's not in the least an intrusion," I said, honestly glad to see him.
"Thank you. Let us sit down over here by the window, if you will. I do
not wish to run any risk of being overheard," and he glanced about
anxiously.
As I looked at him more closely, I saw that he was labouring under some
deep trouble or anxiety. His face was pale and haggard, and he fingered
his glasses with a nervousness which I knew was not habitual.
"The truth of the matter is," he went on, "that I feel the need of
advice--legal advice. I have friends here, of course, to whom I could
have gone; but I was told that you were interested in this case, and
from what I saw of you the other evening, I felt that I should like to
lay my difficulty before you. It is, as I said, a purely legal question,
or I should not have felt the need of any earthly counsel."
I thanked him for his confidence and begged him to continue.
"As I understand the law," he went on, "an insane person cannot be
punished for a crime."
"No," I said, "except by being confined in an asylum until cured--and
even that is largely discretionary."
"And what, in law, is considered insanity--what is the test for it?"
"Inability to distinguish right from wrong is the usual test. No man is
excused from responsibility for a crime, if he has the capacity and
reason sufficient to enable him to distinguish between right and wrong,
as to the particular act he is then doing."
I fancied I heard the clergyman breathe a sigh of relief.
"A person, then, may be sane as regards some things, and insane as
regards others?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Would the fact that a person had at one time been confined in an
asylum, and had occasional lapses from sanity afterward, tend to prove
that he was insane at the time of committing a crime?"
"It would tend to prove it very strongly; especially if the
circumstances under which the crime was committed were related in any
way to the cause of the insanity."
He paused a moment in deep thought.
"I cannot go that far," he said slowly, at last. "And yet--and yet--it
may be that you've hit upon the clue, Mr. Lester. I must have time to
think it over. Will you come to see me this evening?"
"Gladly," I said; "I only hope I can be of service."
"Thank you. I shall look for you between seven and eight. It may be that
I shall have something to tell you."
I watched him as he left the room, with a curious mixture of emotions.
What was it he would have to tell me? Who was it was insane? Was it----
And suddenly I seemed to catch a glimmer of the truth; I felt that,
however slowly and uncertainly, I was at last groping toward the light.