TRICKERY.
As was quite natural, the three men, thrown so strangely and
unexpectedly together at the doctor's cottage, sat up late after the
inquest, and discussed the strange death of Charles Brierly in all its
bearings. As a result of this they slept somewhat late, except the
detective, who let himself out of the house at sunrise, and lighting a
cigar, set off for a short walk, up one certain street, and down
another. He walked slowly, and looked indolently absorbed in his cigar.
But it was a very observant eye that noted, from under the peak of his
English cap, the streets, the houses, and the very few stray people whom
he passed. It was not the people, though, in whom he was chiefly
interested. Ferrars was intently studying the topography of the town, at
least of that portion of it which he was then traversing with such
seeming aimlessness.
From the doctor's cottage he had sauntered north for several blocks,
crossed over, until he reached the upper or terraced street, and
followed it until he had reached the southern edge of the village and
was in sight of the school-house not far beyond. Turning here he crossed
a street or two, and was nearing the house where the dead school teacher
had lived, when he saw the front door of the house open, and a woman
come out and hasten away in the direction in which he was moving. She
hurried on like one intent upon some absorbing errand, and, knowing the
house as the late home of Charles Brierly, and the woman as its
mistress, Ferrars quickened his steps that he might keep her in sight,
and when she turned the corner leading directly to the doctor's cottage
he further increased his speed, feeling instinctively that her errand,
whatever its nature, would take her there.
He was not far behind her now, and he saw the doctor standing alone upon
the side porch, saw the woman enter at the side gate, and the meeting of
the two.
Mrs. Fry, with her back towards him, was making excited gestures, and
the face of the doctor, visible above her head, changed from a look of
mild wonder to such sudden anxiety and amazement that the detective
halted at the gate, hesitating, and was seen at that instant by the
doctor, who beckoned him on with a look of relief.
"Look here, Ferrars," he began, and then turned to assure himself that
Brierly had not arisen, and was not observing them from the office
window. "Come this way a few steps," moving away from the porch and
halting where the shadow of the wing hid them from view from within the
main dwelling. "And now, Mrs. Fry, please tell Mr. Grant what you had
begun to tell me. I want his opinion on it. He's not a bad lawyer."
"A good detective'd be the right thing, I think," declared the woman.
"It's about Mr. Brierly's room, sir. He had a small bedroom, and another
opening out from it, where he used to read and study. You know how they
were, doctor!"
The doctor nodded silently.
"Well, last night, you remember, when you brought this gentleman and his
brother to my place to look at the rooms. You or he decided not to go up
then, but told me to close the rooms, and he would come
to-morrow--to-day--that would be."
"Yes, yes!" said the doctor, impatiently, "we remember all that, Mrs.
Fry."
"Well, I'd had the rooms locked ever since I heard that he was dead."
Mrs. Fry was growing somewhat hazy as to her pronouns. "And I had the
key in my pocket. Then, well, after a while I lit the lamp in the
sittin' room so's it wouldn't seem so gloomy in the house, and went out
and sat on my side stoop, and after a little my neighbour on that side,
Mrs. Robson, came acrost the lawn--there aint no fence between, ye
know--and we talked for some time, and my little girl fell asleep with
her head in my lap."
"Don't be too long with the story," broke in the doctor. "I don't want
it to spoil Mr. Brierly's breakfast, for he needs it badly."
"Yes, sir. Well, just about that time--it must have been half-past
eight, I guess--and there was plenty of folks all along the street, a
boy came running across the lawn and right up to me.
"'If you please,' he says, touching his hat rim, 'Mr. Brierly, down to
the doctor's, forgot to get the key to his brother's room, and he sent
me to get it for him.' I s'pose I was foolish. I felt hurt, thinkin' he
couldn't trust me with his brother's things, an' so I jest hands out the
key and no questions asked."
A look of sudden alertness shot from the eyes of the detective, and he
arrested the doctor's evident impatience by a quick shake of the head
unperceived by the woman, who was addressing her narrative to the
doctor, as was natural.
"I s'pose," she went on, "that I shouldn't a' done it, but I didn't
scent anything wrong then. Mrs. Robson went home in a few minutes, and
then I roused my little girl up and took her in and put her to bed. She
was asleep again a'most as soon as her head touched the pillow, and the
night was so pleasant-like that I threw my shawl on my shoulders and
went out onto the front stoop. I felt sort o' lonesome in the house all
alone."
"Of course," commented Ferrars, seeing the dread of their criticism or
displeasure that was manifest in her face as she paused and looked from
one to the other. "One naturally would in your place."
"Yes, I suppose so," she went on, reassured. "Well, I hadn't been out
there two minutes when that same boy came running up the walk, all out
of breath, and says, sort of panting between words, 'Ma'am, the lady
that lives next the engine-house by the corner stopped me just now an'
asked me to come back here an' beg you to come down there quick! Her
little boy's got himself burned awful!'"
"Ah! I see!" Ferrars spoke low, as if to himself, and his face wore the
look of one who is beginning to understand a riddle. "You went, of
course?"
"Yes, I went."
"Go on with the story, please. Tell it all as you have begun. Let us
have the details," and he again nodded toward the doctor, who was
regarding him with profound surprise, and put a finger to his lip.
"My sister-in-law lives in the house by the engine-house," Mrs. Fry
hurried on, "and knowing how careless she is about keepin' things in the
house against such times, I ran back into my bedroom and got a bottle of
camphor and a roll of cotton batt. 'Run ahead, boy,' I says to the boy,
'an' tell her I am coming; I must lock up my doors and winders.' 'She's
in an awful hurry,' he says, 'cryin' fit to kill. I'll set right down
here and watch your house, ma'am; I can do no good there.' The boy spoke
so honest, and Mary's boy is such a dear little fellow, that I jest lost
my head complete, and ran off down the sidewalk. At the corner I looked
back. The boy was sittin' on the doorstep, an' I heard him whistlin';
someway it made me feel quite easy. But when I got to the house and
found them all in the sitting-room, and Neddy not hurt at all, but sound
asleep on the floor, I was so took back that I just dropped down on a
chair and acted like a wild woman. Instead of rushin' back that very
minute, I sat there and told how I had been tricked, and scolded about
that boy, an' vowed I'd have him well punished, and so on, until Mary
reminded me that I'd better get back home and see if the house was all
right, or if 'twas only a boy's trick."
"It looked like one, surely," was the detective's easy comment.
"That's what Mr. Jones said. He's my neighbour. He was just going home,
and we overtook him. Mary told him about the boy and he laughed and said
that some boys had played that sort of trick last summer two or three
times, sending people running across the town on some such fool's
errand. He thought maybe 'twas some boy that I had offended some way;
and then I thought about how crisp I was about givin' the boy Mr.
Brierly's key, and it made me feel sort of easier. But Mr. Jones went in
with us when we got to my house. We looked all around downstairs and
everything was all right. Nellie was fast asleep still, and not a thing
had been disturbed. Then we went upstairs, 'just for form's sake,' Mr.
Jones said, and looked in all the bedrooms, and even tried Mr. Brierly's
door. Everything seemed right, and so Mr. Jones and Mary went away, and
I went to bed. But someway I couldn't sleep sound. I felt provoked and
angry about that boy, and the more I thought of him, of his being a
stranger and all, the uneasier I got. Then I began to imagine I heard
queer sounds, and creaking doors, and, right on the heels of all that,
came a loud slam that waked Nellie, and made me skip right out of bed."
"A shutter, of course," said the doctor, as she paused for breath.
"Yes, a shutter, and I knew well that every shutter on my house was
either shut tight or locked open. I look to that every night, as soon
as it's lamp-lighting time; them downstairs I shut, them upstairs I
open, sometimes. I knew where that slammin' shutter was by the sound,
and it set me to dressing quick. I had opened the shutters on Mr.
Brierly's windows that very afternoon, thinking the rooms would not seem
quite so dreary and lonesome when his brother came to look through 'em
and they was locked open, I knew well! All the same, it was them
shutters, or one of 'em, that was clattering then, and I knew it."
"Were you alone in the house, you and your little girl?" asked Ferrars.
"All alone, yes, sir; and I took Nellie with me and went out into the
hall----"
"You mean downstairs?"
"Yes, sir. We sleep downstairs. Now, I thought I had seen that
everything was right when Mr. Jones and Mary was with me, but when we
went into that hall--Doctor--" turning again toward that gentlemen, for
she had addressed her later remarks to Ferrars,--"I guess you may
remember a shelf just at the foot of the stairs. It's right behind the
door, when it stands open, and that's why we hadn't seen it, or I hadn't
before. Well, I always set the lamp for Mr. Brierly's room--his bedroom
lamp, that is--on that shelf for him every morning, as soon as it had
been filled for the night's burning; and the morning he was killed I
had put it there as usual, and it had been there ever since. It was
there when Mr. Brierly and you two gentlemen called, after the inquest."
A queer little sound escaped the detective's throat, and again he
checked the doctor's impatience with that slight movement of the head.
"I don't call myself brave," the woman went on, "but I caught Nellie by
the hand--I was carrying my bedroom lamp--and ran up the stairs and
straight to Mr. Brierly's door. I don't know what made me do it, but I
stooped down to look through the keyhole, and there in the door was the
very key I had given to that boy to take to Mr. Brierly's brother."
"What did you do?" asked the doctor, breathlessly.
"I set down my lamp very softly, told Nellie in a whisper not to make a
noise, and then very carefully tried the key. It turned in the lock. I
didn't dare go in, but I locked the door, left the key in it, and went
downstairs and out at the front door. I went around the house and stood
under the window of that room. The side window shutter that I had
fastened back was swinging loose. I went back to the sitting-room,
locking the front door and the doors from the hall into the front room
and sitting-room, taking out the key of the front door, and leaving the
other keys in the locks, on my side. Then I lit the big lamp, pulled
down the curtains, fixed the side door so I could open it quick, and set
the big dinner bell close by it. I made Nellie lie down on the lounge
with her clothes on, and there I sat till morning. Before daylight I
went into the kitchen and moved about very softly to get myself a cup of
coffee, and a bite of breakfast for Nellie. I had been careful not to
let her see how I was scared, and she went sound asleep right away. As
soon as I thought you would be up I awoke my little girl, and left her
sitting upon the side stoop, while I came here to you. Mr. Brierly's
brother ought to be first to enter that room, and--if there was anyone
there last night--they're there yet."
"What room is that which I ought to enter, Mrs. Fry?" said a voice
behind them, and turning, all together, they saw Robert Brierly standing
at the edge of the porch where it joined the wall of the doctor's room.
"I was afraid of this," muttered Doctor Barnes. But the detective seemed
in nowise disconcerted. Neither did he seem inclined to listen, or allow
Brierly to listen to a repetition of Mrs. Fry's story.
"You are here just in time, Mr. Brierly," he said, briskly. "Mrs. Fry
believes that someone has paid a visit to your brother's room during the
night, and as she says, you are the one who should investigate, and I
think it ought to be done at once, if you feel up to it."
"I'll be with you in a moment," replied Brierly, promptly, and he went
indoors by way of the French windows which had given him egress.