PREPARATIONS
My first thought, when I awoke next morning, was for Parks, for
Godfrey's manner had impressed me with the feeling that Parks was in
much more serious danger than either he or I suspected. It was with a
lively sense of relief, therefore, that I heard Parks's voice answer
my call on the 'phone.
"This is Mr. Lester," I said. "Is everything all right?"
"Everything serene, sir," he answered. "It would take a mighty smooth
burglar to get in here now, sir."
"How is that?" I asked.
"Reporters are camped all around the house, sir. They seem to think
somebody else will be killed here to-day."
He laughed as he spoke the words, but I was far from thinking the
idea an amusing one.
"I hope not," I said, quickly. "And don't let any of the reporters
in, nor talk to them. Tell them they must go to the police for their
information. If they get too annoying, let me know, and I'll have an
officer sent around."
"Very good, sir."
"And, Parks."
"Yes, sir?"
"Don't let anybody in the house--no matter what he wants--unless Mr.
Grady or Mr. Simmonds or Mr. Goldberger accompanies him. Don't let
anybody in you don't know. If there is any trouble, call me up. I
want you to be careful about this."
"I understand, sir."
"How is Rogers?" I asked.
"Much better, sir. He wanted to get up, but I told him he might as
well stay in bed, and I'd look after things. I thought that was the
best place for him, sir."
"It is," I agreed. "Keep him there as long as you can. I'll come in
during the day, if possible; in any event, Mr. Godfrey and I will be
there this evening. Call me at the office, if you need me for
anything."
"Very good, sir," said Parks again, and I hung up.
I glanced through Godfrey's account of the affair while I ate my
breakfast, and noted with amusement the sly digs taken at
Commissioner Grady. Under the photograph of the unknown woman was the
legend:
MR. VANTINE'S MYSTERIOUS CALLER
(Grady Please Notice)
And it was intimated that when Grady wanted any real information
about an especially puzzling case, he had to go to the _Record_ to
get it.
This, however, was merely by the way, for the story of the double
tragedy, fully illustrated, was flung across many columns, and was
plainly considered the great news feature of the day.
I glanced at two or three other papers on my way down-town. All of
them featured the tragedy with a riot of pictures--pictures of
d'Aurelle and Vantine, of Grady (very large), of Simmonds, of
Goldberger, of Freylinghuisen, of the Vantine house, diagrams of the
ante-room showing the position in which the bodies were found,
anatomical charts showing the exact nature of the wounds, pictures of
the noted poisoners of history with a highly-coloured list of their
achievements--but, when it came to the story of the tragedy itself,
their accounts were far less detailed and intimate than that in the
_Record_. They were, indeed, for the most part, mere farragos of
theories, guesses, blood-curdling suggestions, and mysterious hints
of important information confided to the reporters but withheld from
the public until the criminal had been run to earth. That this would
soon be accomplished not a single paper doubted, for had not Grady,
the mighty Grady, taken personal charge of the case? (Here followed a
glowing history of Grady's career.)
It was evident enough that all these reporters had been compelled to
go to Grady for their information, and I could fancy them damning him
between their teeth as they penned these panegyrics. I could also
fancy their city editors damning as they compared these incoherent
imaginings with the admirable and closely-written story in the
_Record_, and I suspected that it was the realisation of the
_Record's_ triumph which had caused the descent of the phalanx of
reporters upon the Vantine place.
I went over the whole affair with Mr. Royce, as soon as he reached
the office, and spent the rest of the day arranging the papers
relating to Vantine's affairs and getting them ready to probate.
Parks called me up once or twice for instructions as to various
details, and Vantine's nearest relative, a third or fourth cousin,
wired from somewhere in the west that he was starting for New York at
once. And then, toward the middle of the afternoon, came the
cablegram from Paris which I had almost forgotten to expect:
"Royce & Lester, New York.
"Regret mistake in shipment exceedingly. Our representative will
call to explain.
"Armand et Fils."
So there was an end of the romance Godfrey had woven, and which I had
been almost ready to believe--the romance of design, of a carefully
laid plot, and all that. It had been merely accident, after all. And
I smiled a little sarcastically at myself for my credulity. No doubt
my own romance of a secret drawer and a poisoned mechanism would
prove equally fabulous. In my over-wrought state of the night before,
it had seemed reasonable enough; but here, in the cold light of day,
it seemed preposterous. How Grady and Goldberger would have laughed
at it!
I put the whole thing impatiently away from me, and turned to other
work; but I found I could not conquer a certain deep-seated
nervousness; so at last I locked my desk, told the boy I would not be
back, and took a cab for a long drive through the park. The fresh
air, the smell of the trees, the sight of the children playing along
the paths, did me good, and I was able to greet Godfrey with a smile
when he called for me at seven o'clock.
"I've engaged a table at a little place around the corner," he said.
"It is managed by a friend of mine, and I think you'll like it."
I did. Indeed, the dinner was so good that it demanded undivided
attention, and not until the coffee was on the table and the cigars
lighted did we speak of the business which had brought us together.
"Anything new?" I asked, as we pushed back our chairs.
"No, nothing of any importance. The man at the morgue has not been
identified. In the first place, the Paris police have never taken his
Bertillon measurements."
"Then he's not a criminal?"
"He has never been arrested," Godfrey qualified. "More peculiar is
the fact that he hasn't been recognised here. Two million people,
probably, saw his photograph in the papers this morning. Some of
them thought they knew him and went around to the morgue to see his
body, but nothing came of it. The police have no report of any such
man missing."
"That _is_ peculiar, isn't it!" I commented.
"It's very peculiar. It means one of two things--either the fellow's
friends are keeping dark purposely, or he didn't have any friends,
here in New York, at least. But even then, one would think that
whoever rented him a room would wonder what had become of him, and
would make some inquiries."
"Perhaps he hadn't rented a room," I suggested. "Perhaps he had just
reached New York, and went direct to Vantine's."
Godfrey's face lighted up.
"From the steamer, of course! I ought to have guessed as much from
the cut of his hair. He hasn't been out of France more than ten days
or so. Excuse me a moment."
He hurried away, and five minutes passed before he came back.
"I 'phoned the office to send some men around to the boats which came
in yesterday. If he was a passenger, some one of the stewards will
recognise his photograph. There were three boats he might have come
on--the _Adriatic_ and _Cecelie_ from Cherbourg, and _La Touraine_
from Havre. There is nothing else that I know of," he added
thoughtfully, "except that Freylinghuisen thinks he has discovered
the nature of the poison. He says it is some very powerful variant of
prussic acid."
"Yes," I said, "I heard him say something of the sort last night."
"I had a talk with him this afternoon about it, and he was quite
learned," Godfrey went on. "This is a great chance for him to get
before the public, and he's making the most of it. I gathered from
what he said that ordinary prussic acid, which is deadly enough,
heaven knows, contains only two per cent. of the poison; while the
strongest solution yet obtained contains only four per cent.
Freylinghuisen says that whoever concocted this particular poison has
evidently discovered a new way of doing it--or rediscovered an old
way--so that it is at least fifty per cent. effective. In other
words, if you can get a fraction of a drop of it in a man's blood,
you kill him by paralysis quicker than if you put a bullet through
his heart."
"Nothing can save a man, then?" I questioned.
"Nothing on earth. Oh, I don't say that if somebody had an axe handy
and chopped your arm off at the shoulder an instant after you were
struck on the hand, you mightn't have a chance to live; but it would
take mighty quick work, and even then, it would be nip and tuck.
Freylinghuisen thinks it is a new discovery. I don't. I think some
one has dug up one of the old Medici formulae. Maybe it was placed in
the secret drawer, so that there would never be any lack of
ammunition for the mechanism."
"Godfrey," I said, "are you still bent on fooling with that thing?"
"More than ever; I'm going to find that secret drawer. And if the
fangs strike--well, I'm ready for them. See here what I had made
today."
He drew from his pocket something that looked like a steel gauntlet,
such as one sees on suits of old armour. He slipped it over his right
hand.
"You see it covers the back of the hand completely," he said, "half
way down the first joint of the fingers. It is made of the toughest
steel and would turn a bullet. And do you see how it is depressed in
the middle, Lester?"
"Yes," I said, "I was wondering why you had it made in that shape."
"I want to get a sample of that poison. My theory is that when the
fangs strike the hand, the shock drives out a drop or two of the
poison. I don't want those drops to get away; I want them to roll
into this depression, and I shall very carefully bottle them. Think
what they are, Lester--the poison of the Medici!"
I sat for a moment looking at him, half in amusement, half in sorrow.
It seemed a pity that his theory must come tumbling down, it was so
picturesque, and he was so interested and enthusiastic over it. And
it would make such a good story! He caught my glance, and put the
gauntlet back into his pocket.
"Well, what is it?" he asked quietly.
For answer, I got out the cablegram and passed it across to him. He
read it with brows contracted.
"That seems to put a puncture in our little romance, doesn't it?" I
asked, at last.
He nodded thoughtfully.
"Yes, it does," and he read the message again, word by word.
"Armand's man hasn't called yet?"
"No, I didn't get the message till about three o'clock. I suppose
he'll be around to-morrow."
"You will have to turn the cabinet over to him, of course?"
"Why, yes, it belongs to him. At least, it doesn't belong to
Vantine."
He slipped the message into its envelope and handed it back to me. I
could see that he was perplexed and upset.
"Well, in spite of this," he said finally, "I am still interested in
that cabinet, Lester, and I wish you would keep possession of it as
long as you can. At least, I wouldn't give it up until he delivered
to you the other cabinet which Vantine really bought."
"Oh, I'll make him do that," I agreed quickly. "That will no doubt
take a few days--longer than that if Vantine's cabinet is in Paris."
Godfrey raised a finger to the waiter, asked for the check, and paid
it.
"And now let us go down and have a look at this one," he said, "as we
intended doing. You will think me foolish, Lester, but even that
cablegram hasn't shaken my belief in the existence of that secret
drawer."
"And all the rest?" I asked.
"Yes," he answered slowly, "and all the rest." He said nothing more
until we stopped before the Vantine house, but I could see, from his
puckered brows, how desperately he was trying to untangle this quirk
in the mystery.
"The siege seems to have been lifted," I remarked, as we alighted.
"The siege?"
"Parks telephoned me that your esteemed contemporaries had the place
surrounded. I told him to hold the fort!"
"Poor boys!" he commented, smiling. "To think that all they know is
what Grady is able to tell them!" Then he stopped before the house
and made a careful survey of it.
"Which room is the cabinet in?" he asked.
"The ante-room is there at the left where those two shuttered windows
are. The cabinet is in the corner room--there is one window on this
side and two on the other."
"Wait till I take a look at them," he said, and, vaulting the low
railing, he walked quickly along the front of the house and around
the corner. He was gone only a minute. "They're all right," he said,
in a tone of relief.
"Of course they're all right. You didn't suppose--"
"If that cabinet contains what I thought it did, Lester--yes," he
added, a little savagely, as he saw my look, "and what I still think
it does--it wouldn't be safe in the strongest vault of the National
City Bank," and he motioned for me to ring the bell.
I did so, in silence.
Parks answered it almost instantly, and I could tell from the way his
face changed how glad he was to see me.
"Well, Parks," I said, as we stepped inside, "everything is all
right, I hope?"
"Yes, sir," he answered. "But--but it gets on the nerves a little,
sir."
I heard a movement behind me, as I gave Parks my coat, and turned to
see Rogers sitting on the cot.
"Hello," I said, "so you're able to be up, are you?"
"Yes, sir," he answered, without looking at me. "I thought I'd come
down and keep Parks company."
Parks smiled a little sheepishly.
"I asked him to, Mr. Lester," he said. "I got so lonesome and jumpy
here by myself that I just had to have somebody to talk to.
Especially, after the burglar-alarm rang."
"The burglar-alarm?" repeated Godfrey quickly. "What do you mean?"
"We've got a burglar-alarm on the windows, sir. It's usually turned
off in the day-time, but I thought I'd better leave it on to-day, and
it rang about the middle of the afternoon. I thought at first that
one of the other servants had raised a window, but none of them had.
Something went wrong with it, I guess."
"Did you take a look at the windows?" I asked.
"Yes, sir; a policeman came to see what was the matter and we went
around and examined the windows, but they were all locked. It made me
feel kind of scary for a while."
"Does the alarm work now?"
"No, sir; the policeman said there must be a short circuit somewhere,
and that he'd notify the people who put it in; but nobody has come
around yet to fix it."
"We'd better take a look at the windows, ourselves," said Godfrey.
"You stay here, Parks. We can find them, all right; and I don't want
you to leave that door unguarded for a single instant."
We went from window to window, and Godfrey examined each of them with
a minuteness that astonished me, for I had no idea what he expected
to find. But we completed the circuit of the ground floor without his
apparently discovering anything out of the way.
"Let's take a look at the basement," he said, and led the way
downstairs with a readiness which told me that he had been over the
house before.
In the kitchen, we came upon the cook and housemaid sitting close
together and talking in frightened whispers. They watched us
apprehensively, and I stopped to reassure them, while Godfrey
proceeded with his search. Then I heard him calling me.
I found him in a kind of lumber-room, standing before its single
small window, his electric torch in his hand.
"Look there," he said, his voice quivering with excitement, and threw
a circle of light on the jamb of the window at the spot where the
upper and lower sashes met.
"What is it?" I asked, after a moment. "I don't see anything wrong."
"You don't? You don't see that this house was to be entered to-night?
Then what does this mean?"
With his finger-nail, he turned up the end of a small insulated wire.
And then I saw that the wire had been cut.