ANOTHER LOCKED DOOR
Physically stunned by surprise, the two detectives stared at Stimson’s
lean, dark face, while, with the swiftness of a dream, their trained
mentalities passed the whole case in review--to no purpose. In face
of the little they had learned, such a second killing seemed utterly
meaningless. It supplied no dreadful link, fitted no vacant niche in
even the most shadowy of their theories. By slightly different channels
they swung to the same mental mooring. First and second killing, if
done by the same hand, were the work of an irresponsible madman.
“Where’s the body?” rapped Bernard suddenly.
The butler started.
“Beg pardon, sir! I was not speaking physiologically. I referred to the
location of Mr. Graham at the time he was shot--in the door between the
library and the front room. Mr. Graham is not dead. He is seriously and
painfully wounded.”
“Good!” cried Landis in relief. “Where is he?”
“We put him to bed and the doctor has been here to dress his wound. He
has a slight fever and is extremely nervous. He has asked for you both
several times.”
“You must know who did it this time!”
“No, sir! There is no clue. It happened at almost exactly the same time
as before. The back of the house was unguarded as before, thanks to the
removal of the police.”
Catching the note of reproach in Stimson’s voice, Landis glanced at the
man sharply.
“And the members of the household?” he inquired with a certain dryness.
“In their rooms as before, sir.”
“You’ve called the local police?”
“No, sir. Both Miss Mount and Mr. Graham preferred to await your
return. I phoned for the doctor only.”
Without further parley Landis went to the telephone and summoned
Sergeant Forbes and two patrolmen. They waited grimly in the deserted
library until the police arrived, posted the sergeant at the rear door
of that room and sent the policemen to patrol the grounds. In the
meantime they had examined the Japanese bow, which Landis had left
unstrung. It was strung again and another Japanese arrow was missing.
An inspection under the light showed no trace of finger-prints on bow
or quiver. Both shone as though recently polished.
At Stimson’s suggestion they also visited, while they waited, the
little reception-room. There were no traces of blood on the door-sill
between the two rooms but they found a mark on the front wall of the
smaller room to show where the deflected arrow had struck almost
broadside on and dropped to the carpet. Even at that angle, the sharp
arrowhead had cut a deep gash in the heavy wallpaper and plaster
beneath. The arrow, unblunted, lay where it had fallen. Landis picked
it up by one vane and carried it to the light. Blood clung to the sharp
metal of the long, elliptical head, filmed the shaft and had darkened
the feathers. If the shaft had borne finger-prints no trace of them
remained.
Landis replaced the arrow where he had found it and with Bernard
mounted at once to Graham’s room, leaving the sergeant to keep watch on
the ground floor.
They knocked and entered to find Graham sitting up, his flushed face
turned eagerly toward the door. They saw that his right arm was tightly
bandaged.
“Thank the Lord you’ve come,” he said hoarsely. “The butler came up to
tell me you were back. Being the object of an attempted murder is a
little out of my line!” He managed a wry smile but it was easy to see
that he was feverish and badly shaken by his wound.
“Lie down, old chap,” said Landis soothingly. “Tell us about it if you
feel able. Is the wound a bad one?”
“Not at all dangerous, the doctor says. It went through the inner side
of my upper arm here and scraped the bone, so it’s fairly painful. But
the shock of it upset me a bit.”
“Feel up to telling us about it?”
“You bet I do! I want to get it off my chest before they have another
try and get me! Crazy thing is, so far as I know, I haven’t an enemy in
the world!”
Landis nodded.
“What happened exactly?”
Graham lay back on his pillow and passed his left hand across his
forehead.
“I--they all went to the funeral. Even Ethel went. She and Miss Mount
are great friends and Miss Mount urged her to go along and keep her
company. I guess Ethel wanted to go anyway because Mr. Harrison was so
nice to her.”
The two detectives glanced at each other casually and Bernard smiled at
Graham.
“So you stayed at home alone?”
“Entirely alone. All the servants went, too. I sorted what I could find
of Harrison’s papers, ready to turn them over to Mr. Brent as senior
trustee. I got interested studying that bunch of company prospectuses
in his desk. The whole lot of them came home about six and--”
“Including Joel Harrison?” interrupted Bernard.
Graham laughed nervously.
“Oh, yes. He went and came back fuming over the whole business. You
never know how he’ll take anything. Ethel and I went up to our rooms.
She was tired and nervous after the ordeal. She said the funeral seemed
just horrible instead of sad, because Mr. Harrison had been murdered.
So I got her to take a nap, dressed for dinner and went down to the
library again. I sat down at Harrison’s desk to read prospectuses until
the gong sounded--”
“What time did you get down to the library?”
“About seven, I should think.”
“Did you happen to notice the Japanese bow?”
“Yes, I did, before I sat down. Finding the library just as it was
Saturday night, shadowy, fire burning and all, I wandered to the end of
the room to look at it, as a person will after a tragedy--”
“Of course,” nodded Landis eagerly. “Well?”
“It was just the same--strung and leaning against the armor--”
Landis leaned forward.
“But it wasn’t left strung!” he interrupted sharply. “I unstrung it
late Saturday night!”
Graham shuddered.
“Good Lord!” he cried hoarsely. “Whoever did it was waiting in the
hall, perhaps! But the door was open. I didn’t see anybody about!”
“You didn’t look, of course,” growled Bernard. “Tell us the rest and
don’t worry! They won’t get another crack at you. We’ll see to that!”
“While I was sitting at Harrison’s desk,” said Graham suddenly, “I
heard a sound in the formal garden outside the windows. I’m sure of it
now! I didn’t pay much attention then. But I did hear footsteps, soft
ones, on the gravel just once or twice--at least it sounded like the
crunch of gravel under foot.”
“What time was that?” demanded Bernard.
Graham shook his head.
“Ten or fifteen minutes past seven, maybe. I’m not sure.”
“Go on.”
“But that’s all!” retorted Graham. “I didn’t see or hear anything at
all! When the gong rang I cleared the desk and walked down the library
to the little door just as Harrison did on Saturday night!” Graham
writhed nervously under the bedclothes at the recollection. “Just as
I got to the doorway into the front room some blind instinct made me
swerve aside a little and walk faster. Maybe it was association of
ideas. Maybe it was a tiny sound behind me, though I don’t remember
hearing a thing. The next instant something hit my right arm. It was
just like being punched violently. Only there was a fierce, grinding
sort of pain with it. Anyhow, my legs gave out and I spun round and
fell at the same moment. I just crumpled in the doorway. The shock or
the pain knocked the wits clean out of me. I heard Susan’s scream in a
dim sort of way. But I never thought of looking back into the library
to see who had shot me!”
“Was there anybody in the front room?” Landis asked.
“Yes. Miss Mount and Susan were there. I believe Miss Mount was over by
the window and Susan near her with a tray.”
“What happened then? Did anyone see anything at all?” demanded Bernard
in evident exasperation.
Graham shook his head.
“Miss Mount says the way I fell blocked the doorway so she ran round
through the hall into the library and switched on the top lights as
before. But she saw nothing unusual. She ran to the end of the library
and looked into the back hall. It was deserted. Susan was screaming
like mad, so she ran into the front room.”
“Can _you_ give us any help at all of your own knowledge? Can’t
tell how reliable anyone else is in this case!”
“I can’t! My first clear recollection is coming up the front stairs
between Stimson and Russell and being put to bed. Stimson had phoned
for the doctor and he came very soon after and dressed my arm. He
offered to send me a nurse, but Ethel was awake by that time and
insisted on nursing me herself. Doctor Stanford said it would be all
right.”
“Have you made any further investigations?”
“I have not!” Graham retorted with emphasis. “I’ve stayed coyly here
in my bedroom, wishing to Heaven I had a revolver. I hadn’t any
yearning to give anybody a second try at me, thank you!” Graham laughed
apologetically. “The pain and shock bowled me over, I guess. It was a
narrow escape. Ethel and that lucky swerve of mine just about saved my
life!”
“Why Mrs. Graham?” asked Landis quickly. “She was asleep, wasn’t she?”
“No. She was dressing by that time. Stimson or somebody called to her
and she ran in. The arrow had cut a big vein and I was bleeding like a
stuck pig. Ethel ran across the hall to Miss Mount’s room for bandage,
found the door locked and ran back and tore up one of my shirts and
tied my arm up tight. I felt pretty faint. So I told them all that I
felt nauseated--”
“All who? Who was in the room?” asked Bernard.
“I’m not sure; Russell and Stimson and Ethel of course and three or
four more. The two girls were there, I think, and Allen. I don’t
remember. Anyway, I had a crawling feeling that any one of them might
have shot me, Lord knows why, so I cleared them all out--said I wanted
to be alone and rest. I’d have liked to have Ethel stay, but I couldn’t
very well insist on being alone and keep her, so I sent her down to
get her dinner. I kept her back and told her to tell everybody that I
didn’t feel like seeing anybody just then. Frankly, I was in a panic!”
“Then the doctor came up to see you?”
“Yes. Ethel came up with him. She hadn’t been able to eat but she’d
stayed away like a darling. She hung around while the doctor dressed my
arm, looking like a little ghost. The shock of it, on top of the strain
of the funeral, had done her up. I sent her across to Miss Mount for a
sleeping powder and then sent her to bed, with her door locked!”
“Thought Miss Mount’s door was locked!” said Bernard.
“Well, she was in her room,” answered Graham a trifle irritably. “She
must have unlocked it again.”
“You haven’t had any other visitors?”
“Stimson came up once after the doctor left to clean up a bit and see
if there was anything I wanted. But he gave me the creeps, too, and I
said I only wanted to know when you got back and to see you at once.”
Landis got up from the edge of the bed on which he had been sitting.
“Mighty sorry you’ve had such a bad time of it, Graham,” he said.
“Guess we shouldn’t have left the house unguarded. But it’s guarded
now. There are three police about. I’ll lend you a revolver, though, if
you’re nervous. I’ve got one in our bag.”
“No, I don’t feel so panicky now. Tell you what! Lock my door on the
outside and shove the key under it again. I’ll try and get some sleep.”
He managed a smile. “Only, I hope to Pete you’ll find out who did it
and run him in quick! This is no place for Ethel--or me, either!”
“We’ll do that little thing,” said Landis, “and don’t worry! Nobody
will come near you tonight. I’m going to station one of the cops up
here in the hall so don’t get nervous if you hear his heavy tread. Good
night.”
“Good night,” answered Graham, “and thanks a lot.”
They withdrew, locking the door on the outside and flicking the key
under it. Then they went down the front stairs, noticing how the
bloodstains on the carpet, thickest outside Graham’s door, dwindled
as they descended and ceased altogether just inside the library door,
where, presumably, Graham’s clothing had not yet become saturated.
Landis asked Sergeant Forbes to station one of his men outside Graham’s
door. Then he and Bernard set about the same procedure as before,
questioning the servants first. He found them all gathered in the
kitchen which buzzed like a beehive with their chatter.
Harley had been in the garage when the gong rang. He heard Susan scream
and ran in through the lower wing hall at once but saw no one at all on
the way. He found Miss Mount, Susan and Stimson with Graham and hurried
out the front door. He ran around the house at once. But there was no
one about.
Susan, still tearful but in possession of her senses, told them that
she and Miss Mount had been in the reception-room as usual. She had
sounded the gong and gone back. Miss Mount had just begun to close the
window and she herself was pouring cocktails when she looked up and
saw Mr. Graham in the doorway from the library. Then he had spun half
round and fallen in a heap. It was all more than Susan could stand and
she was going to give notice.
Stimson could add nothing of importance. He had been in the pantry when
Susan screamed and had run into the hall in time to see Miss Mount
darting into the library. She switched on the lights and ran to the
end. He went to help Mr. Graham if he could. Miss Mount came back. Then
the others began to arrive and he and Mr. Russell, finding Mr. Graham
alive, had carried him up to his room. Stimson had telephoned at once
for a doctor, without waiting for orders from Miss Mount. She was busy
with Susan again. He saw no one and nothing suspicious.
The cook and Helen Stokes had been in the kitchen all the time and
could not tell the detectives anything at all.
Angry and mystified, betraying the first if not the second, Landis
and Bernard continued their inquiries. Miss Mount came downstairs
while they were interviewing the servants and they questioned her
first. Allen, Russell and the two girls were in the drawing-room. Joel
Harrison had gone to bed. They asked Miss Mount into the library as
before.
“Please give us a detailed account of your movements since six o’clock
and what you saw and heard,” Bernard ordered her rather roughly. “Omit
nothing, whether you consider it important or not!”
“Your tone and manner,” replied Miss Mount, with fire in her eye, “are
regrettable and entirely unnecessary. As Mr. Landis is in charge of
this case, I’ll address my remarks to him, if you don’t mind!”
“Address ’em where you please but address ’em!” growled Bernard.
“I returned from the funeral about six and went to my room for a few
minutes to rest and change my dress. I came downstairs again about
six-thirty,” Miss Mount told them. “I went for a little stroll in the
sunken garden as I often do, then moved about through the kitchen,
pantry and dining-room until about seven-twenty, when I went into the
library for a word with Mr. Graham. I went on into the reception-room
to wait for Susan with the glasses. She brought them a few minutes
later. When Stimson brought in the cocktails, left the shaker and
returned to the dining-room, I told Susan to ring the gong. She did
so and came back. Then I closed the window. I had just closed it when
Susan screamed and I turned and saw Mr. Graham fall.”
“What did you do then?” asked Landis quietly.
“Mr. Graham had fallen in the doorway, so I ran around through the hall
into the library and switched on the lights as I did Saturday night.
The end of the library was deserted and the door was open. I ran to
the end. The hall was empty. I came back. Stimson had appeared and was
helping Mr. Graham to his feet. The others were gathering so I went
into the front room to try and quiet Susan. That is all I know.”
“Why did you lock your door when you came downstairs at six-thirty?”
Bernard demanded. “You don’t usually lock your door, do you?”
Miss Mount started very slightly and stared at him.
“I do not! I never lock my door. I did not lock it this evening, Mr.
Bernard!”
“A minute or two after Graham was helped upstairs, Mrs. Graham went
across the hall to your room to get some bandage. Your door was locked
then!”
“I think she must have been mistaken.”
Bernard’s instant retort was delivered with open suspicion.
“I _don’t_ think she was mistaken!”
“You may think what you please!” she snapped.
“Have you any idea,” Landis interjected smoothly, “who tried to murder
Graham as they murdered Harrison--and why?”
“I have no idea whatever, Mr. Landis!”
“When did you next go to your room?” he inquired.
“When the doctor came. Ethel--Mrs. Graham asked me to go up with her
and I did but the doctor did not seem to want me in the room so I
crossed to my own. My door was not locked then! I waited there in case
I was wanted and presently Mrs. Graham came over for a sleeping powder,
which I gave her.”
“You made no effort to dress Graham’s wound as soon as he was hurt? You
remained downstairs?” asked Landis.
“There were plenty of others to look after him!” said Miss Mount
sharply. “Stimson is quite capable of such a simple dressing as that, I
imagine!”
“What makes you think it was simple?” Bernard shot at her. “You didn’t
see the wound, did you?”
“The doctor told me it was only a flesh wound.”
“After he came!” snapped Bernard. “You didn’t know that the wound
wasn’t serious, possibly mortal and desperately in need of dressing
until the doctor came, did you? Why didn’t you find out?”
“Mr. Graham was able to walk! He had his hand on his arm. It was easy
to see that the arrow had pierced him there. A wound in the arm is
seldom mortal, Mr. Bernard!”
The two detectives eyed her steadily for a moment.
“Is that all?” she inquired at last.
“That’s all--for the present!” Bernard’s tone was ominous and
threatening.
Miss Mount rose and started calmly for the hall.
“You’ll wait in the reception-room, please!” snapped Bernard, “where
Harrison was murdered!”
Miss Mount whirled, stared at him furiously for a moment, then turned
on her heel and walked into the front room without a word.