CONFLICTING WILLS
When Inspector Sewell arrived at King’s house the next day, he seemed
tired and hollow-eyed. That was the result of long hours of thought
and vain planning. Being of that healthy type of men who are used to
regularity and a full nine hours of sleep each night, the lack of it
showed plainly in his face. Yet his shoulders were erect, his eyes as
keenly alert as ever in spite of the dark arcs below them.
Mrs. Bascom met him at the door. By contrast, she seemed to have
rested and relaxed from her overwrought emotions of the previous day,
for her face was calm and unworried, her poise assured.
‘Good-morning, Ezra.’ She eyed him sharply and her mood softened
further.
‘’Mornin’, Ellen B. You look perky as a lark an’ fresh as a daisy.’
‘Can’t say you do, Ezra.’ It might have been a taunt, but her tone
robbed the words of any such interpretation.
‘Guess daisies an’ larks ain’t in my line,’ grinned Ezra. ‘How’s
Sylvia?’
‘Just the same.--Before I forget it, I think I left a handkerchief in
your automobile yesterday. Will you help me find it?’
Mrs. Bascom moved down the drive toward the car and Sewell followed,
after her meaning glance at him. When they reached it, she went to
one side and began fumbling around the seats while he did likewise
on the other.
‘I thought it best to take precautions,’ explained Mrs. Bascom
quietly. ‘I wanted you to see this letter I received in answer to one
I wrote.’
She dropped a sheet of notepaper to the floor of the automobile,
and Ezra, with a nod of approval, bent closer to read it while he
pretended to putter about. When he had finished it, he stuck the note
into his pocket.
‘Thanks, Ellen. I guess we’d better talk it over with the judge.’
‘I didn’t know what your plans were--whether you wanted to confide
anything to him or the others,’ answered Mrs. Bascom, and the
suggestion of her complete dependence upon his decision revealed to
what extent she had now confided in him.
‘Some things, yes, but not all. I--it’s sort of nice of you, Ellen
B., to--well, to do like this,’ stammered Ezra, suddenly ill at ease
for no accountable reason.
‘I want you to handle things--to assume the responsibility. That’s
why I told you,’ she replied readily. ‘I’m out of this from now on.’
‘Not if I can help it. You’ve got to assist me, Detective Bascom,’
he grinned, continuing before she could interrupt with more than a
vague gesture of deprecation--‘this is what I aim to do now, subject
to change without notice, as they say. Not a hint about what Sylvia’s
told you, nor about the knife nor King’s past. Otherwise I’ll act
trustin’ as ever, an’ you do it, too. Only keep your eyes an’ ears
open an’ don’t be surprised if I don’t follow my own rules.’
She nodded and suddenly whisked a handkerchief out from her skirt,
then pretended to take it from behind the seat.
‘Here it is. I found it, Ezra,’ she called quite loudly.
Sewell straightened up to see the judge approaching behind him across
the lawn.
‘’Mornin’ to you, Judge. You’re just the man I want to see now that
I’ve done my one good deed for the day by helpin’ Ellen find her
handkerchief--if you’d call that dinky pen-wiper such a thing. Let’s
get along into the house out of the sun.’
Judge Brant nodded to Mrs. Bascom, and the three moved toward
the house with some inconsequential remarks. In the hall, they
encountered Basil talking earnestly to Dr. New, so Sewell suggested
they make it a full conference. He led the way to King’s den, where
they all sat down comfortably.
‘You seen Miss Hawley yet to-day?’ the inspector addressed the doctor.
‘Yes. She is still resting.’
‘You mean unconscious?--Well, I hope it ain’t as serious as Mrs.
Bascom told me it might be?’
‘Can’t say definitely as yet--certainly not in its present stage.’
‘Nothin’ we can do to hurry things along a bit, then?’
‘Not until she comes out of her coma.’
‘Well, that’s kind of unfortunate, as I think what I’m goin’ to tell
you has to do with her, an’ I’d like to hear what she’d say about
it. However, let me ask you, Judge, a question to start.--About that
will, how does one of ’em have to be signed to make it legal?’
‘It must be signed by the executor in the presence of three
disinterested parties, each signing after him in the presence of the
others. Is that what you mean?’
‘Precisely. An’ whatever’s signed that way is a legal will, eh?’
‘If the witnesses to the instrument know it was a will, yes, and
providing there is no fraud or such contingency.’
‘Supposin’ there was a mistake. Supposin’ there was two wills an’ the
wrong one got signed, all legal like.’
‘That’s not definite enough. Could you prove absolutely that it was
an error?’
‘Not positively, perhaps.’
‘Then, if one was legally executed, it would stand, supposing your
premise to be true.--Are you implying this is what happened in the
case of King’s will?’
‘I think so, only what you say complicates matters, some. Here’s
the facts. Mrs. Bascom here has received a letter from one of the
witnesses, one of the guests, you know, who signed his will. I’ll
read part of it to you.’
Sewell adjusted his glasses with care, took a letter from his pocket
and read aloud:
We assembled in his library. There were several papers on his
desk, rather scattered about, some signed, others not. One of
these latter he took up, explaining it was his will and that we
were to witness it.
He glanced it over a minute, then wrote his signature. Of course
I never looked at what was written except to notice that it was
in his own hand. He gave me the pen first, and I was just about
to sign it when there was a terrible clatter outside and King
exclaimed, ‘Sounds like the local fire department in action.’ We
rushed to the window and threw it open, all leaning out to watch.
To us city people the apparatus was quaint and amusing, so we
watched until it disappeared up the road. I remember King said,
‘Just a brush fire and not dangerous if they’re going in that
direction, though it’s a bit breezy for any sort of a fire
to-day.’
When we went back to the desk, I picked up the paper that the
wind had blown a little to one side, and signed it under his
name. The others followed me.
That is all I remember. I’ve told it in as much detail as I
could....
‘The rest doesn’t matter,’ explained Sewell, folding up the paper
again. ‘One thing more, though. This witness showed her statement
to another one of ’em before sendin’ it, an’ he agreed to every
word--What do you think of that, Judge?’
‘I’d say it was perfectly legal,’ he answered slowly.
‘An’ that’s the one we found on King’s desk after he was killed,
the one makin’ Miss Hawley his heiress. But I want to explain what
I think really happened. There was another draft of a will. It was
found among some papers on his desk in the house here. This one
wasn’t signed except by King, an’ his writin’ was blurred a bit as
if somethin’ had smeared over it before the ink was dry.
‘Now that letter from the witness speaks of one or two interestin’
points. There were several papers on the desk, some already signed.
Again, there was a wind blowin’ when the window was opened,
interruptin’ the signin’. The paper was blown to one side, see?
Well, I guess you can figure out now what I’m drivin’ at. I believe
he’d signed one for the play, just a fake one meanin’ to fake some
witnesses for it. Then he signed the real one all right, but the wind
blew it aside and this witness picked up the fake by mistake.’
‘Ingenious--and plausible,’ chimed in Judge Brant, bringing his
hands together with a bang. ‘I’m positive something like that must
have occurred. Besides’--he turned to the others--‘remember King’s
expression when he first took up that will in the play? It was
not wholly acting, I believe now. He was genuinely surprised and
concerned for a moment, started to tear it up, then decided to go on
with the play. I’m sure it was when he discovered his error.’
‘Seems to bear out my theory, don’t it?’
The judge’s elation suddenly wilted. ‘But, Sewell, this is all
assumption. I don’t see how it can be definitely proved.’
‘You mean the signed one would stand in spite of this?’
‘It would be hard to discredit it.’
‘Why try to?’ interrupted Basil with assurance. ‘There’s no reason
for thinking he didn’t mean to make Miss Hawley----’
‘Yes, there is. He told me about his plans just the day before and
they included a bequest, but not the entire estate, to Miss Hawley,’
said the judge.
‘He may have changed his mind,’ argued Basil stubbornly. ‘It seems to
me she has a perfect right to insist on the terms of that will.’
‘Makes her quite an heiress--a right smart catch for some man, don’t
it?’ interposed Sewell calmly, his eyes meeting Basil’s squarely.
The latter’s dropped quickly before this taunt, as he turned away
with a gesture of bravado, but not before a flush stained his cheeks.
No one seemed to notice this except Mrs. Bascom who shot a glance of
approval at the inspector.
‘Now, folks, I’m pretty sure of one thing--to get back to the murder
part. Whoever did it must have known King pretty well to have had a
motive an’ he must have been right here on the spot.--I ain’t exactly
suspectin’ one of you here an’ I ain’t so sure about Ruel, so it
seems to me perhaps I’d better get along myself an’ call on every one
of the other guests present that night. It’s kind of a long process,
but it might lead to somethin’. What do you think?’
‘I’ve wondered why you didn’t do it before,’ remarked Judge Brant
dryly.
‘Not I,’ said Dr. New. ‘It seems to me the thing to do now, but only
as a sort of last gasp, when all else has failed. Of course, if you
had some definite clue, it would be different.’
‘That’s the funny part, ain’t it? There don’t seem to be any of ’em
to speak of. I ain’t said much about it to you before, folks, but
it’s struck me as queer all along that the murderer’s weapon hasn’t
turned up yet. That’s really the only argument against its bein’ one
of the guests, see?’
‘No, I don’t. What do you mean?’
‘Well, Doctor, it’s this way. Say one of ’em killed King with some
sort of knife. What could he do with it--where could he hide it? You
were all searched, an’ so was the barn. I even went over the ground
outside to see if it was buried. It wasn’t. Yet it must have been
hidden mighty quick after the murder unless it was some one from
outside who didn’t stay after his deed.’
‘What makes you think it wasn’t such a person?’ The question was
Basil’s.
‘Kind of a hunch, I guess; also the fact that whoever did it must
have known about King’s plans for the play pretty well or he’d not
have taken such a chance.’
‘A pretty strong argument against Ruel, then, isn’t it?’
‘Just as strong against you--or Miss Hawley,’ answered Sewell
briefly, and Basil abruptly subsided again. ‘Now, Doctor, let’s just
go over a point or two about the actual killin’, if you don’t mind.
We know it was skillful an’ sudden, struck right to the heart. I
just wondered whether that was an easy thing to do--hit the heart, I
mean--or did it require some special skill?’
‘Not at all. The blow penetrated the thorax between the sternal ribs
and----’
‘Hold on a bit. Thorax--I thought that was somethin’ in the throat?
Couldn’t you explain a bit simpler?’
‘Of course. The thorax is, in general, the part of the body between
the neck and abdomen. A blow directed at the heart, if it struck in
that region and hard enough, might pierce that organ or be deflected
into it by one of the ribs. Any one might have done it quite easily,
and death would be instantaneous with the stopping of the heart
action.’
‘I see.--Could a woman have done it, then?’
‘Yes.’
They were silent for a moment after this reply, the judge’s eyes
automatically glancing at Mrs. Bascom, then quickly away again.
‘Well, that’s only as I’d figured it out myself, an’ it don’t change
nothin’.--I guess that’s about all this conference is good for
to-day, unless some one’s got a suggestion to make.’
‘The only thing I can say is--let’s have some action,’ grumbled the
judge. ‘Things have been dragging on and on, but as far as I can see,
we’re no nearer finding the murderer. I don’t doubt your sincerity
in the least, Sewell, but I want to see King’s murderer brought to
justice.’
‘No more’n I do. If you can suggest some way of actin’, you’ve got me
beat.’
‘That’s just it. You’ve covered the ground thoroughly without
unearthing anything of value. Now, why not call in a little outside
help? It may be rather late in the day, but----’
Martha appeared in the doorway at this moment to interrupt with a
telegram for the inspector. This he read slowly without change of
expression, then got to his feet as he put the paper in his pocket.
‘I guess I will, Judge. I know a man for the job, an’ I’ll send a
wire to him right now by Pete who brought me this little business
matter.’
He left the room quickly, and was back again before any one spoke.
‘This man, name of Bartrum, ought to be here by to-morrow. Till then,
I guess there’s nothin’ to do but hold on.’
‘He’s a good man?’ asked Judge Brant earnestly. ‘I know a smart
detective myself, you see.’
‘I guess he’s smart as they make ’em,’ cut in Sewell with finality.
‘Good, I’ll wait till after he comes, then I really must get back to
my work. I’ve stayed longer than I had intended already.’
‘I also,’ added Dr. New. ‘If it were not for Miss Hawley’s condition
I’d have gone before. But I hope she’ll come around soon. If not, it
would be better to place the case in the hands of another doctor and
nurse, I’m afraid. It rather baffles me.’
‘Well, I guess that’ll be all right, gentlemen, an’ thanks for
stayin’ so long.--Ellen B., anythin’ I can do for you in the village,
or take you there, perhaps?’ drawled Sewell, his eyes meeting hers
for a brief glance.
‘No, thanks, Ezra.--But wait. I guess I will run down to the store a
minute, if you can spare the time.’
‘Certain sure. Got nothin’ to do but wait for help now.’
Mrs. Bascom bustled up the stairs for a peep at Sylvia, then hurried
out to Ezra, who was waiting on the piazza, chatting with the men.
The car was started and, Mrs. Bascom at his side, it chugged down
the road leaving a powdery cloud of dust behind it. Halfway to the
village, Ezra stopped by the side of the road quite suddenly.
‘Important errand, Ellen B.?’ he grinned.
‘Very. I need a spool of thread for the kitten to play with,’ she
replied with an answering smile. ‘What was it you wanted to tell me,
Ezra?’
‘Right smart at takin’ a hint, ain’t you?--Well, now, seein’ as we’re
partners in this business, I kind of thought you’d like to know about
that telegram. Women are supposed to be curious, you know.’
‘Not supposed to be--they are,’ corrected Mrs. Bascom in a
matter-of-fact tone.
‘Well, I’ll tell you, then. When Ruel had gone an’ I sort of guessed
where an’ why, I called up the police of Boston an’ told ’em to treat
him well, give him all the help possible. They did all right, an’ now
they’re wirin’ me some more information. Guess they must have done
some lookin’ around, too, an’ now here’s this man Bartrum they’re
sendin’ along to help. He knows all about that old case, see? They’re
sendin’ some more dope to me an’ it may be interestin’, but I guess
I can’t wait for it to come. Incidentally, I didn’t wire for him, as
he’s already comin’ as near as I could make out their message.’
‘So that’s your famous detective?’
‘Yep, though he may not know it!--But I declare I’d like to start
somethin’ right now--I’ve got to. I was thinkin’ most all of last
night how to lay a trap or somethin’, but I’m scared to--yet.’
‘You mean you really suspect one of those men here?’
Sewell nodded gravely, but declined to reveal his thoughts, and she
did not press him.
‘The knife--how about finding it suddenly? That might lure him into
exposing himself,’ suggested Mrs. Bascom eagerly.
‘An’ it only takes a woman that--’ he snapped his fingers loudly, ‘to
think of what took me most an hour! But it won’t do, Ellen. If some
one was after the knife in your house, he already knows you have it,
or thinks you have, an’ pretendin’ to find it would only make him
suspicious of a trap. No use doin’ that.’
They were silent for a moment, then Mrs. Bascom spoke.
‘Ezra, I’ve been wondering. Judge Brant seemed anxious to get hold of
a detective--but one that he knew. The moment you spoke of Bartrum,
he decided to leave. Do you suppose that has any significance?’
‘I can suppose lots of things, Ellen, an’ I’ll admit I’d thought of
that, but what’s the use? Dr. New’s leavin’ too, an’ both of ’em
have suggested gettin’ a detective, before. You can twist almost
anythin’ any one says or does into meanin’ somethin’ suspicious, when
you haven’t somethin’ definite to go on. But I’m gettin’ kind of
discouraged with myself, Ellen,’ he went on, his mouth drooping at
the corners--‘kind of losin’ faith in myself--about ready to give up.’
‘Give up? Don’t be a fool, Ezra Sewell. Don’t admit you’re stumped
when you’re not and you know it. Don’t fish for compliments from me!’
The tartness of her words revived him like a tonic. She had been
almost too docile since her confession, but this was more like her
old, vigorous self. Yet the flame was only temporary. When he egged
her on again, she bit her lip and answered mildly, turning the
subject.
‘We’ve had time enough to get to the village and back. Better turn
around so I can return and be with Sylvia. I’m worried about her,
Ezra.--By the way, does Ruel know?’
‘Not yet, though I kind of promised him a talk with her to-morrow.
He’s gettin’ restless an’ wants to see her. I guess you know why,
Ellen.’
‘Of course I do, the poor children.’
‘Children? Now don’t rub it in like that. Makes me feel like an
old Methuselah, an’ as to you--well, you ain’t exactly decrepit
yet--seems to _me_.’
With this remark, he started the car so abruptly that their heads
jerked backward painfully. When she had recovered herself, Mrs.
Bascom glanced at his whimsically stern face with its eyes held
straight to the front. It was a dubious compliment, perhaps, but
coming from him so unexpectedly it had taken her off guard. A reply
was impossible as he backed and headed for King’s house, so she
remained thoughtfully silent. When he stopped to let her out at
the door, however, she leaned close to make him hear as she gave a
parting word of advice.
‘Keep Ruel away for to-day, at least. Tell him some message from
Sylvia. Make up a strong one. You’d know what to say!’
Then she hurried into the house, leaving Ezra staring after her in
open-mouthed alarm.
He’d know what to say----Now what did she mean by that? The answer
worried him even more than the other questions on his mind as he
returned to the jail and spent an hour energetically sweeping up and
tidying the office. His message to Ruel seemed sufficiently personal
to pacify him for a time, however, especially when Ezra hinted it was
Sylvia’s own desire to rest and be at her best when they should next
meet.
Ezra’s housekeeping duties over, he was about to go outside again
when the telephone rang. It was Mrs. Bascom, who spoke in a low,
hurried voice.
‘I want you to come here after lunch. Take the back road and bring
Dr. Smith from the village. Be here by, but not before, two o’clock.
I’ll signal to you.’
With that the receiver clicked silent, and Ezra hung up. So Ellen was
at work again, eh?--She wanted the village doctor--why? Obviously to
see Sylvia. Again, why? And her abrupt manner----
‘Ruel,’ called Ezra, ‘do you know any funny stories? If you do, tell
me one quick so I can stop mullin’ over foolish ideas like I’ve got
now.’
But Ruel did not reply. He was asleep.
At the appointed hour, Sewell led the doctor toward King’s house
from across the orchard back of the barn. He consulted his watch to
be exact and scanned the house for some sign from Ellen. As they
approached cautiously, Mrs. Bascom appeared in the kitchen doorway
and beckoned for them to hurry, which they did.
‘Dr. Smith,’ she said as she led them toward the hall, ‘I want you to
look at Miss Hawley. I’ve been thinking back over her condition and
I’m not satisfied, somehow, with Dr. New’s diagnosis. He’s supposed
to be a fine nerve specialist, but--well, I’m not sure it’s all
nerves. The three men have gone for the mail.’
‘Tell me what you think,’ said the doctor, taking his cue from her
and not wasting time by idle questions to satisfy his curiosity at
this mysterious summons.
Briefly she recounted Sylvia’s symptoms of a nervous breakdown,
omitting the reasons for it, and Dr. New’s gloomy predictions,
then opened the door to Sylvia’s room. Sewell peeped in, but did
not enter, leaving that to Mrs. Bascom and the doctor. It was not
modesty that held him back, rather it was the realization that now
was a splendid chance to search the absent men’s rooms as he had been
planning to do.
Of necessity it was rather a hasty search, yet it was not
unproductive. He entered the judge’s room first, as it was the
nearest. Here everything was neat and precise as he had expected;
toilet articles arranged and orderly, clothes hung in the closet,
shoes in a row on the floor. A leather portfolio lay open on the
table, containing a sheaf of documents. One of them caught Ezra’s
eye and he slipped it out. It was a half-sheet with the typed
words--‘Prisoner No. 24578.’ This he tucked into his pocket.
The doctor’s room came next, a decided contrast in neatness. A suit
of clothes lay mussed in a chair, a medical book on the floor, while
the bureau top was a jumble of toilet articles. Two white pills lay
untidily on the carpet before the bureau, and Ezra neatly picked them
up. A handbag in the closet disclosed part of a doctor’s kit, a
stethoscope, some bottles of pills and liquids, and a roll or two of
bandages. As Ezra bent over this he sniffed once, smiled to himself,
then nodded and left the room.
Clothes for all occasions filled Basil’s room, each rather carefully
hung up or put away in drawers, but one thing in his almost empty
suit-case pursed Ezra’s lips into a soundless whistle. Tucked into
a side pocket next a flask, was a jimmy and a revolver! This latter
he unloaded, dropping the shells into his pocket, then, hearing
footsteps in the hall, hurried back toward Sylvia’s room.
The doctor and Mrs. Bascom stood there looking for him, the former
rather grim, the latter horrified, yet triumphant.
‘How is she?’ Sewell addressed the doctor, but his eyes were fixed on
Mrs. Bascom’s.
‘She will regain consciousness in a short time now.’
‘An’ she’ll be clear in her mind, do you think?’
‘Absolutely. She’ll only remember that she’s been asleep, probably. I
mean she will not know why she’s been unconscious for so long.’
‘But you do?’
‘I do!’
If he had expected to create a sensation by these words, the doctor
failed, for Sewell, still staring at Mrs. Bascom, merely nodded as if
the news was no surprise to him--was only a confirmation of some idea
of his own!