THE INQUEST
When I awoke the sun was pouring into the room and my watch pointed to
eleven o'clock. After hours of pacing the floor in utter anguish of
spirit while the specter of murder stalked hand-in-hand with innocence
and love, outraged nature had asserted herself and I had found respite
in oblivion. But now the weary round of thoughts must be taken up again
and it was with a sigh of relief that I obeyed the summons to present
myself in the study where the coroner was holding the inquest.
The body had been removed and in the chair where it had so lately rested
reposed the coroner with his papers spread out on the table before him.
I noticed that he had taken the chair from the head of the table and had
placed it around the corner on the right side, facing the direction of
the door instead of the safe.
In the corner opposite the door sat the younger of the two detectives
who had accompanied the Sergeant to the house the night before. Beside
him was Orton, looking pale and dispirited, while huddled in the
adjacent corner like a herd of frightened cattle stood the servants,
their eyes fastened upon the coroner, watching his every movement as if
in terror lest they be accused of having murdered their master. Grouped
around the table but slightly behind the coroner sat the jury, and I was
glad to note that the coroner had had the good sense to pick a fairly
respectable set of men to judge the case, from which I argued hopefully
that the gray-haired, heavy-set gentleman in charge of the case might
possess a modicum of intelligence and a keener brain than the average
coroner.
Back of the jury stood Dr. Haskins, in conference with a rotund
individual whom I assumed rightly to be the coroner's physician. Beyond
the doctors sat the assistant district attorney, surrounded by the very
few newspapermen who had got wind of the affair and had insisted upon
being present.
Passing the jury I seated myself near one of the windows beside a man
whom I recalled having seen, but whom I could not at the moment place,
and looked around in vain for Ruth. Evidently Coroner Graves (I obtained
this information from the man beside me) intended to spare her as much
as possible, for which consideration I thanked him from the bottom of my
heart.
They must have been awaiting my presence since I was no sooner seated
than the coroner called on Doctor Haskins to give his testimony. The
doctor repeated what he had previously told me, that Philip Darwin had
been shot through the left lung, that death had resulted from internal
hemorrhage, and that the victim had lived at least twenty minutes after
the bullet had penetrated his body. Asked if he had examined Mr. Darwin
immediately upon his arrival, the doctor replied that he had first
attended Mrs. Darwin and that it must have been ten or fifteen minutes
later that he had entered the study. He had found Mr. Darwin lying back
in his chair with a smile on his lips, one hand closed over a
handkerchief, the other hanging limply over the arm of the chair. From
the condition of the body he must have been dead from twenty to thirty
minutes. Also there was a small abrasion on the little finger of his
left hand, as if a ring had been violently removed. Questioned as to
whether he was the family's physician, he said no, that he only knew Mr.
Darwin by sight and had probably been summoned because he was the
nearest doctor.
This evidence was partially corroborated by the coroner's physician, who
added that he had made a post-mortem examination and had extracted the
bullet, which had narrowly missed entering the heart. From the nature of
the wound it would have been impossible for him to have shot himself,
and the absence of all powder stains pointed to murder rather than
suicide.
Then he continued, with a slightly commiserating look in Dr. Haskins'
direction: "You have heard Dr. Haskins' testimony, your honor, that the
victim lived twenty minutes after he was shot, and that at the time that
the doctor examined him he had already been dead from twenty to thirty
minutes. This last statement is correct. The post-mortem examination
proves conclusively that Mr. Darwin died at midnight or shortly
thereafter. From questions that I have already put to Mr. Orton I have
learned that the shot was fired as the clock finished striking twelve,
therefore since that was the only shot fired Mr. Darwin must have died
immediately, or at the best, must have lived only five minutes, for Dr.
Haskins was in the study by twelve-thirty."
"But," interrupted Dr. Haskins, "the nature of the wound is such that
instantaneous death could not have possibly occurred."
"Please do not volunteer information unless you are being questioned,"
returned the coroner with some asperity. He turned to his physician,
"You were saying, Doctor?"
Dr. Haskins shrugged his shoulders at the coroner's words, while his
boyish face flushed angrily at the rebuke, and he walked away from the
table, but turned to listen as the physician took up the cudgels again
by answering the query he had propounded.
"Dr. Haskins is young in his profession and this is his first criminal
case, hence his natural inference that because in his medical books such
a wound should produce such results, therefore it must be so in
practice," said the coroner's physician, with pompous superiority. "Now
as a matter of fact where one man will live an hour another will survive
only a few minutes, depending on the life each has led. Now Mr. Darwin,
I have been told, led a very fast life, which probably accounts for his
quick demise. After all, you see, it's a question of fitting your facts
to the circumstances of your case and in this instance no other
conclusion is possible."
I could see that Dr. Haskins was not at all convinced, and I set it down
to professional jealousy and his desire not to be outdone by the
coroner's physician. I can imagine that that "is young in his
profession" rather stuck in his gorge.
When the physician had seated himself the coroner took up the bullet and
called the detective, to whom he handed it along with another object
that had been lying upon the table. Whereupon the detective took a step
forward and held up the object for our inspection. It was a
long-barreled thirty-eight caliber revolver, just the sort of weapon a
man would keep in his house for use against burglars, since it insured a
fair chance of more accurate marksmanship.
"This revolver, gentlemen," said the detective, speaking to the jury,
"was found on the floor beside the chair in which the victim lay. As you
can see for yourselves," here he broke the pistol, "it is fully loaded
with the exception of one chamber, which has recently been discharged.
The bullet extracted from Mr. Darwin's body corresponds in every respect
with the bullets remaining in this pistol. Therefore I have no
hesitation in stating that the deceased was killed with this weapon in
my hand."
He passed the revolver and the bullet to the jury, adding that Mr.
Darwin had been standing when he was shot, and that as he had been
engaged in writing the moment before, the inference was plain that he
had risen to meet the person who killed him.
"What makes you certain he was standing when he was shot?" inquired the
coroner.
"The carpet, if you'll notice," replied the detective, whose name, by
the way, was Jones, "has a very heavy pile. The marks made by that
arm-chair as it was pushed back from the table were apparent to me when
I examined the carpet around it. Now Mr. Darwin had been writing, for we
found a half-finished word on the paper before him, and must therefore
have been seated in the chair. Hence the only person who could have
produced those marks in the carpet was the victim himself, and they
could only have been made if, as I said, he had risen suddenly to meet
his murderer, who was evidently known to him, since Mr. Darwin was
smiling when he was killed."
There was a murmur of admiration for the clever way in which he had
deduced his statement, and the man beside me softly clapped his hands as
he whispered to himself, "admirable, marvelous. Upon my soul I could not
have builded better had I tried."
The thought came to me that my companion might be a detective also, and
that he was delighted with the intelligence displayed by his
professional brother, but I had no time to nurse idle speculations, for
Jones had resumed his seat, and I expected the coroner to make an
attempt to discover the ownership of the pistol. To my surprise he
ignored that point and turned his attention to the servants.
The butler, who was the first servant called upon and who was a vigorous
old man about sixty years of age, gave his name as George Mason and
stated that he had been in his position for thirty years. I saw the
coroner's face clear at this statement, for surely a man who had been
the family retainer for so long a time could be relied on not to pervert
any knowledge he might possess of the events of the previous night. The
coroner should have recalled that though not given to perverting justice
old family servants have a faculty for forgetting what they would rather
not explain.
"I understand that it is your duty to secure the house at night," began
the coroner.
"Yes, sir."
"What time do you usually lock up?"
"When Mr. Darwin left the house for the evening, sir. Or if he was away,
as he sometimes is, for days together, it would remain locked while he
was gone. That is, it was that way before his marriage, sir. Now I lock
up when Mrs. Darwin goes upstairs."
"What time did you close the house last night?"
"At nine-thirty, sir."
"You are sure you locked all the doors and windows securely?"
"Oh, yes, sir, everything except the study, for to my surprise Mr. Orton
was in there and said he'd lock the windows himself, sir."
"Why did Mr. Orton's presence in the study surprise you?"
"Because Mr. Darwin always keeps the study locked, sir. I have a
duplicate key to let the maid in to clean, sir, and it was my custom in
my rounds at night to knock on the door. If I got no answer I went in to
see that everything was all right, sir."
"How long has Mr. Darwin been in the habit of locking his study?"
"A good many years, sir, ten or more."
"For what reason?"
"I do not know, sir."
"Did Mr. Orton explain how he came to be in the study?"
"No, sir. When I found him there I withdrew at once."
"After that, what did you do?"
"I saw to it that all the servants had left the main wing and closed the
door into the servants' wing. When that door is closed it is impossible
to hear what goes on in the main part of the house, sir. We went to bed
and did not know the master was dead until Mr. Orton informed us this
morning, sir."
"I see. This applies to all the servants, you can swear to that?"
"Yes, sir, to all except the valet and Mrs. Darwin's maid. They do not
leave the main wing until dismissed for the night."
"Who opened up the house this morning?"
"The police, sir."
The coroner looked inquiringly at the detective, who answered promptly:
"Nothing had been tampered with. The burglar alarms on the windows were
all intact and the front door was double-locked when the doctor
arrived."
The coroner turned once more to the butler. "When did you last see Mr.
Darwin alive?"
"Yesterday about six o'clock, sir. He was just going out."
"Then he was not home for dinner?"
"No, sir. Mr. Orton and Mrs. Darwin dined alone, sir, for even Mr. Lee
was away."
"Who is Mr. Lee?"
"Mr. Darwin's nephew, sir. He has lived here ever since he was a lad,
sir."
Coroner Graves pondered a moment, then asked abruptly, "Have you ever
noticed any signs of ill-feeling between your master and mistress?"
The answer came without a moment's hesitation, "No, sir, and even if I
did it was not my place, begging your pardon, sir, to pry into the
affairs of my betters."
The jury smiled, but the coroner frowned as he told Mason that he was
through questioning him, for he was evidently a stickler in regard to
upholding the dignity of the law as embodied in his own proper person,
of course.
The examination of the other servants was a mere formality. None of them
knew anything of the tragedy and they were disposed of in a group with
the exception of the valet and Ruth's maid.
The former, being questioned, stated that his master had given him the
evening, that he had left the house at six and had not returned until
eight this morning. Where had he been at midnight, why at the Highfling,
on Fourteenth Street, dancing with his girl.
The coroner summoned a policeman and sent him out to verify this
statement, then called Ruth's maid, who supplied him with the first bit
of tangible evidence against her mistress.
"How long have you been in your present position, Annie?" he asked,
glancing at the sheet he held in his hand.
"Five months, sir," answered Annie, with a grin and curtsey. She was
quite a pretty girl and it was evident that she was bursting to tell all
she knew, so the coroner asked her to relate everything that had
happened the night before, admonishing her to be careful not to forget a
single detail.
She tossed her head. "As if I'm like to forget, sir, with it all ending
in murder, sir." She spoke the word in a thrilling whisper, enjoying to
the full her connection with so sensational an affair.
"Last night, sir, about ten-thirty, as I was getting my mistress ready
for bed, came a knock at the door and who should it be but Mr. Orton,
saying that the master wished to see my mistress in the study. Quick as
a wink she was after him down the stairs, and I hadn't hardly had time
to fix the bed before she was back again----"
"Be more definite," interrupted the coroner. "Was she gone five
minutes?"
"Nearer ten, sir," came the ready answer.
"Were you making the bed that it took you ten minutes to fix it?"
inquired the coroner, sharply.
The girl hung her head. "No, sir. I went out in the hall to see if I
could hear anything, but there was no sound and when I saw my mistress
coming up the stairs I ran back in the room and noticed the clock said
about twenty to eleven, sir."
"Be careful how you give false impressions, my girl. Remember that we
always learn the truth," said the coroner, severely.
The girl was quite abashed and just a little frightened. "It wasn't any
harm, sir," she murmured, "and I didn't hear anything, so I thought it
didn't have to be told."
"Go on with your story," shortly.
"Yes, sir. My mistress came back looking very excited and sat down at
her desk. She wrote something on a paper and put it in a white envelope,
then she told me to give it to her chauffeur and to tell him to go for
Mr. Davies and bring him back as fast as possible. She said I needn't
come back to her, so I did what she told me and then went to bed. I
don't know how long I'd been asleep when Mr. Orton woke me and told me
my mistress was ill. I flung on some clothes and followed him to her
room, where the doctor told me to stay the rest of the night. I didn't
know the master was dead until I went to get my breakfast. The butler
told me, and that is all I know, sir."
"You have no idea what was in the note?"
"No, sir. It was sealed."
The chauffeur was called next and testified that what the maid had
related with regard to him was correct. He had taken the note to my
house and delivered it to my man. When I had entered the machine he had
driven me to the Darwin home and left me at the front steps.
"Did the maid give you Mr. Davies' address?" asked an inquisitive juror.
"No, sir. I was Mrs. Darwin's chauffeur before her marriage and had
often driven Mr. Davies home, sir."
"Then Mr. Davies was acquainted with Mrs. Darwin before her marriage?"
This from another juror.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you not think it odd that your mistress should send for Mr. Davies
at that time of night?" inquired the coroner.
"I didn't think about it one way or 'tother. I'm paid to obey orders,
sir."
There was nothing more to be obtained from him and as by this time it
had grown late a short recess was called for luncheon. I had hoped to
see Ruth, but I was disappointed for she kept her room and so, not
caring to join the others in the dining-room, I had Mason bring me a
bite in the room adjoining the study.
When the inquest was reopened I once more took a chair near a window but
above the table instead of below it, where I could watch more closely
the witnesses as they were called. To my surprise my companion of the
morning again chose a seat beside me.
Then the coroner rapped for order and inquired if Gregory had returned.
"Yes, sir," answered the policeman promptly, coming forward and
saluting. "The valet's alibi is O. K., sir. The music hall attendant
remembers speaking to him at midnight, and his girl corroborated his
testimony."
"Very well. That effectually disposes of the servants," remarked the
coroner. "Now for the more important witnesses."
I was hoping that he would call me first, but the name that fell from
his lips was that of Claude Orton, private secretary and creature of the
murdered man.