ROGERS GETS A SHOCK
Grady, Simmonds and Goldberger examined the room minutely, for they
seemed to feel that the secret of the tragedy lay somewhere within
its four walls; but I watched them only absently, for I had lost
interest in the procedure. I was perfectly sure that they would find
nothing in any way bearing upon the mystery. I heard Grady comment
upon the fact that there was no door except the one opening into the
ante-room, and saw them examine the window-catches.
"Nobody could raise these windows without alarming the house," Grady
said, and pointed to a tiny wire running along the woodwork. "There's
a burglar alarm."
Simmonds assented, and finally the trio returned to the ante-room.
"We'd like to look over the rest of the house," Grady said to Rogers,
who was sitting erect again, looking more like himself, and the four
men went out into the hall together. I remained behind with Hughes
and Freylinghuisen. They had lifted the body to the couch and were
making a careful examination of it. Heavy at heart, I sat down near
by and watched them.
That Philip Vantine should have been killed by enthusiasm for the
hobby which had given him so much pleasure seemed the very irony of
fate, yet such I believed to be the case. To be sure, there were
various incidents which seemed to conflict with such a theory, and
the theory itself seemed wild to the point of absurdity; but at least
it was a ray of light in what had been utter darkness. I turned it
over and over in my mind, trying to fit into it the happenings of the
day--I must confess with very poor success. Freylinghuisen's voice
brought me out of my reverie.
"The two cases are precisely alike," he was saying. "The symptoms are
identical. And I'm certain we shall find paralysis of the heart and
spinal cord in this case, just as I did in the other. Both men were
killed by the same poison."
"Can you make a guess as to the nature of the poison?" Hughes
inquired.
"Some variant of hydrocyanic acid, I fancy--the odour indicates
that; but it must be about fifty times as deadly as hydrocyanic acid
is."
They wandered away into a discussion of possible variants, so
technical and be-sprinkled with abstruse words and formulae that I
could not follow them. Freylinghuisen, of course, had all this sort
of thing at his fingers' ends--post-mortems were his every-day
occupation, and no doubt he had been furbishing himself up, since
this last one, in preparation for the inquest, where he would
naturally wish to shine. I could see that he enjoyed displaying his
knowledge before Hughes, who, although a family practitioner of high
standing, with an income greater than Freylinghuisen's many times
over, had no such expert knowledge of toxicology as a coroner's
physician would naturally possess.
The two detectives and the coroner came back while the discussion was
still in progress and listened in silence to Freylinghuisen's
statement of the case. Grady's mahogany face told absolutely nothing
of what was passing in his brain, but Simmonds was plainly
bewildered. It was evident from his look that nothing had been found
to shed any light on the mystery; and now that his suicide theory had
fallen to pieces, he was completely at sea. So, I suspected, was
Grady, but he was too self-composed to betray it.
The coroner drew the two physicians aside and talked to them for a
few moments in a low tone. Then he turned to Grady.
"Freylinghuisen thinks there is no necessity for a post-mortem," he
said. "The symptoms are in every way identical with those of the
other man who was killed here this afternoon. There can be no
question that both of them died from the same cause. He is ready to
make his return to that effect."
"Very well," assented Grady. "The body can be turned over to the
relatives, then."
"There aren't any relatives," I said; "at least, no near ones.
Vantine was the last of this branch of the family. I happen to know
that our firm has been named as his executors in his will, so, if
there is no objection, I'll take charge of things."
"Very well, Mr. Lester," said Grady again; and then he looked at me.
"Do you know the provisions of the will?" he asked.
"I do."
"In the light of those provisions, do you know of any one who would
have an interest in Vantine's death?"
"I think I may tell you the provisions," I said, after a moment.
"With the exception of a few legacies to his servants, his whole
fortune is left to the Metropolitan Museum of Art."
"You have been his attorney for some time?"
"We have been his legal advisers for many years."
"Have you ever learned that he had an enemy?"
"No," I answered instantly; "so far as I know, he had not an enemy on
earth."
"He was never married, I believe?"
"No."
"Was he ever, to your knowledge, involved with a woman?"
"No," I said again. "I was astounded when I heard Rogers's story."
"So you can give us no hint as to this woman's identity?"
"I only wish I could!" I said, with fervour.
"Thank you, Mr. Lester," and Grady turned to Simmonds. "I don't see
that there is anything more we can do here," he added. "There's one
thing, though, Mr. Lester, I will have to ask you to do. That is to
keep all the servants here until after the inquest. If you think
there is any doubt of your ability to do that, we can, of course, put
them under arrest--"
"Oh, that isn't necessary," I broke in. "I will be responsible for
their appearance at the inquest."
"I'll have to postpone it a day," said Goldberger. "I want
Freylinghuisen to make some tests to-morrow. Besides, we've got to
identify d'Aurelle, and these gentlemen seem to have their work cut
out for them in finding this woman--"
Grady looked at Goldberger in a way which indicated that he thought
he was talking too much, and the coroner stopped abruptly. A moment
later, all four men left the house.
Dr. Hughes lingered for a last word.
"The undertaker had better be called at once," he said. "It won't do
to delay too long."
I knew what he meant. Already the face of the dead man was showing
certain ugly discolourations.
"I can send him around on my way home," he added, and I thanked him
for assuming this unpleasant duty.
As the door closed behind him, I heard a step on the stair, and
turned to see Godfrey calmly descending.
"I came in a few minutes ago," he explained, in answer to my look,
"and have been glancing around upstairs. Nothing there. How did our
friend Grady get along?"
"Fairly well; but if he guesses anything, his face didn't show it."
"His face never shows anything, because there's nothing to show. He
has cultivated that sibylline look until people think he's a wonder.
But he's simply a stupid ignoramus."
"Oh, come, Godfrey," I protested, "you're prejudiced. He went right
to the point. Do you know Rogers's story?"
"About the woman? Certainly. Rogers told it to me before Grady
arrived."
"Well," I commented, "you didn't lose any time."
"I never do," he assented blandly. "And now I'm going to prove to you
that Grady is merely a stupid ignoramus. He has heard all the
evidence, but does he know who that woman was?"
"Of course not," I said, and then I looked at him. "Do you mean that
you do? Then I'm an ignoramus, too!"
"My dear Lester," protested Godfrey, "you are not a detective--that's
not your business; but it _is_ Grady's. At least, it is supposed to
be, and the safety of this city as a place of residence depends more
or less upon the truth of that assumption. On the strength of it, he
has been made deputy police commissioner, in charge of the detective
bureau."
"Then you mean that you _do_ know who she was?"
"I'm pretty sure I do--that is what I came back to prove. Where's
Rogers?"
"I'll ring for him," I said, and did so, and presently he appeared.
"Did you ring, sir?" he asked.
He was still miserably nervous, but much more self-controlled than he
had been earlier in the evening.
"Yes," I said. "Mr. Godfrey wishes to speak to you."
It seemed to me that Rogers turned visibly paler; there was certainly
fear in the glance he turned upon my companion. But Godfrey smiled
reassuringly.
"We'd better give him his instructions about the reporters, first
thing, hadn't we, Lester?" he inquired.
"Which reporters?" I queried.
"All the others, of course. They will be storming this house, Rogers,
before long. You will meet them at the door, you will refuse to admit
one of them; you will tell them that there is nothing to be learned
here, and that they must go to the police. Tell them that
Commissioner Grady himself is in charge of the case and will no doubt
be glad to talk to them. Is that right, Lester?"
"Yes, Ulysses," I agreed, smiling.
"And now," continued Godfrey, watching Rogers keenly, "I have a
photograph here that I want you to look at. Did you ever see that
person before?" and he handed a print to Rogers.
The latter hesitated an instant, and then took the print with a
trembling hand. Stark fear was in his eyes again; then slowly he
raised the print to the light, glanced at it....
"Catch him, Lester!" Godfrey cried, and sprang forward.
For Rogers, clutching wildly at his collar, spun half around and fell
with a crash. Godfrey's arm broke the fall somewhat, but as for me, I
was too dazed to move.
"Get some water, quick!" Godfrey commanded sharply, as Parks came
running up. "Rogers has been taken ill."
And then, as Parks sped down the hall again, I saw Godfrey loosen the
collar of the unconscious man and begin to chafe his temples
fiercely.
"I hope it isn't apoplexy," he muttered. "I oughtn't to have shocked
him like that."
At the words, I remembered; and, stooping, picked up the photograph
which had fluttered from Rogers's nerveless fingers. And then I, too,
uttered a smothered exclamation as I gazed at the dark eyes, the full
lips, the oval face--the face which d'Aurelle had carried in his
watch!