COVERING CLUES.
“And your mistress is Mrs. Maynard?” asked Chick.
“Of a certainty.”
Chick saw that the girl was antagonistic, but he did not show what his
thoughts were. The only way to secure information from the girl would
be to make friends with her. He asked:
“How is Mrs. Maynard this morning?”
“She is very ill, sir.”
“It is a terrible affair,” said Chick. “It is a wonder that all the
people in the house were not murdered in their beds.”
“I shall be afraid to stay here now,” said the girl, still speaking in
French.
“You surely are not going away?” asked Chick. “What will Mrs. Maynard
do? She surely can’t get a companion like you—young, devoted, and
attractive—every day.”
The girl blushed prettily. The flattery was winning its way, seemingly.
“I must go about my work,” said the girl. “I have to take to my
mistress some of her clothes from the closet.”
“Can I assist you?” asked Chick.
“Oh, no. It is only a few I carry.”
The girl went to the closet. Chick watched her every move and
glance. Entering the closet, she looked anxiously about. She seemed
disappointed at not finding something she sought. Passing her hands
swiftly along the line of garments suspended on hooks, the girl turned
them out from the wall and looked behind them.
“You are looking for something?” asked Chick.
“For a dress,” was the reply. “It is not here. Ah!”
Standing in the doorway of the closet, the girl’s eyes now fell on the
pink nightrobe, lying on the bed where Nick had tossed it.
The girl stepped briskly forth and seized the robe, doubling it up and
hiding as much of it from view as was possible.
“And yet she claimed to be looking for a dress,” thought Chick. “Here
is mistake number one for us. We should have hidden that nightrobe. I
presume the woman will see that we do not get it in our hands again.
Rather bright girl this. I wish Nick would happen in here just now.”
As if in answer to the thought, Nick appeared in the doorway. Chick
saw that his chief had sized up the situation at a glance. The girl
curtsied to the new arrival and moved off with the robe under her arm.
Nick watched her from the doorway as she passed along the hall toward
the front of the house.
When she came to the cross hall, directly in front of the room which
had been occupied by the dead man, she dropped the robe to the floor.
Instead of picking it up at once, she, with a little exclamation of
impatience, gave it a push with her foot, which sent it along the
floor, not toward the stairs, but to the south, down the hall which ran
straight from the head of the stairs to a wing of the house, the upper
floor of which was occupied by the servants as sleeping rooms.
Nick stepped quickly forward, but the girl was pushing the robe
along with her foot, and the dust on the linoleum was brushed aside,
obliterating any marks which might have been there. The detective
smiled at the strategy displayed.
The hall down which the girl passed was not a long one, and ended at a
door which connected with a hall in the wing. She was, therefore, soon
out of sight. As she closed the door Nick saw a disdainful smile on her
face.
“That’s a bright girl,” he said, as Chick stepped to his side.
“Mrs. Maynard is covering clues,” said the assistant. “Which shows that
she has much to conceal. The girl said she came after a dress, but went
away with the nightrobe which discloses the story of the struggle. She
was in Charley’s room before she came here. I wonder what she took from
there?”
Nick stepped down the hall a few paces and bent to the floor. When he
came back he held a shred of cotton in his fingers.
“She took the packing from the casket in which the diamonds were
brought here,” he said. “Mrs. Maynard is getting well fast. The robe
shows the struggle, and the packing shows her touch. But she came too
late.”
Chick drew the little drawer from the dresser and held it out—empty.
“And the handkerchiefs show the presence of the diamonds here, and also
the grab made for them by the old man. She must have taken them before
I got into the room, although I was only a second behind her. What does
it all mean, chief? Is it possible that Mrs. Maynard knows who killed
her husband?”
Nick made no reply. He stood in the hallway looking down at a footprint
left in the dust by the girl. He ended by taking a tape from his pocket
and measuring it. Then he went to the door at the south end of the
front hall and turned the knob. The door was locked, but he had it open
in a moment.
No one was in sight as he glanced down the hall in the wing. He stepped
inside and tried the door to the front room. It, too, was locked, but
was soon opened with his picklock. One glance at the interior showed
the detective that it was the room occupied by the maid.
It was in perfect order, except that the robe, just taken from the
other part of the house, lay across the back of a chair, and the
handkerchiefs, just taken from the dresser of her mistress, lay on the
bed. So Mrs. Maynard had not really regained them, after all!
“Well,” thought the detective, “she may have ordered the girl to get
them out of sight. It is a wonder to me that she did not think of that
sooner. We should have been all at sea had she ordered that floor swept
early this morning.”
Nick went to where his assistant stood and announced that he had about
concluded his work there.
“What did you find in the closet?” Chick asked.
Nick did not reply immediately. He seemed to be in one of his brooding
moods. He walked back to the rear room again and stood at the closet
door with his measuring tape in his hands. Again he went to the room
where the dead man lay and studied the position of the body and the
character of the wound which had resulted in instant death. Once more
he went over the hall leading to the door of the west room, this time
using a glass on every inch of it. Chick, standing at the door of
Charley’s room, heard him mutter:
“It isn’t possible. I surely must be mistaken. And yet here it is; in
black and red, literally. It is too brutal to be true! Too brutal! Too
unnatural!”
Chick pondered over the words for a long time. Nick was not much given
to talking his thoughts aloud, and Chick knew that he must be greatly
moved to do so now.
But Chick knew that his chief had made some discovery which he did not
care to communicate, because of his uncertainty as to its bearing on
the case.
“It’s an odd case,” said Nick presently. “We can only trace the stolen
gems to members of the family, and there is the murder.”
“But in terror of discovery,” said Chick, “is it not possible that even
a member of the family might have dealt the blow which killed the old
man?”
Nick made no reply. He walked down the hall leading to the servants’
quarters, and examined the floor both at the door and near it. The
cunning maid had swept the floor clean along the path of travel with
the robe, but Nick continued his investigations along the walls, where
the robe had not touched.
At last he turned away and, accompanied by his assistant, passed down
the stairs and entered the parlor on the floor below. There they found
Charley awaiting their arrival. Nick closed the door which communicated
with other parts of the house, and asked:
“How long has the maid been here?”
Charley smiled.
“Don’t waste your time there,” he said. “She came from Paris with aunt
ten or more years ago, and is devoted to the family.”
“When was your aunt married to Mr. Maynard?” was the next question.
“About ten years ago. They met first in Paris.”
“Then the maid was with your aunt before the marriage?”
“I think so. She is more of a companion than a maid, though.”
“How long has Anton lived here?”
“About a year.”
“And before that time?”
“He lived in Paris.”
“Supported by your aunt?”
“I think so.”
“Has she an income of her own?”
“A very small one. She lost most of it when she remarried.”
“I see. Is Anton to remain here? What I mean is, was it his purpose on
coming here to remain in this country?”
Charley laughed uneasily.
“There was nothing else for him to do,” he said. “He could no longer
live on the money he was receiving, and so he had to go to work or come
here.”
“Ah! And he did not like the idea?”
“He did not.”
“And the maid? She also longs for Paris?”
“Oh, you are off the track,” said Charley. “They do not get on well
when together, and the girl would not leave aunt. There is nothing in
that line.”
“You think they have a mutual dislike for each other?” asked Nick, with
a smile.
“I am certain of it.”
“How long since this began to show?”
“Well, they were shy of each other from the first. Lately they have
quarreled in the presence of the servants.”
“Only lately?”
“Only lately,” repeated Charley.
“They knew each other in Paris?”
“Yes, I think so, when they were children.”
“Now, how has Anton been supplied with money since he came here?”
“By my aunt.”
“Has he ever complained of the size of the allowance?”
“Not that I am aware of, but he has borrowed of me.”
“And repaid?”
“Never.”
There was silence for a moment, and then Nick asked:
“Was it generally known in the house that the diamonds were coming?”
“Yes. The matter was often talked of.”
Again there was a long pause.
“Oh, say,” said Charley presently, “you may as well give up that line
of inquiry. We know well enough how the thieves got into the house, and
how they got the gems. You see, they left plenty of clues behind. The
sheriff thinks he has them located already. What have you discovered?”
The detective had no idea of reporting progress at that time, so he
ignored the question and asked for Mrs. Maynard.
“She is too ill to be seen,” said Charley.
“And the maid is with her? By the way, what is the name of the maid?”
“Her name is Bernice. Yes, she is with my aunt.”
“Is Mrs. Maynard still unconscious?” asked Chick.
“Only partially so,” was the reply. “She is in a low condition,
physically, and the shock of last night has affected her seriously.”
“You have called a physician?”
“Of course.”
As the question was answered the physician made his appearance in the
parlor. He was old and gray, and had long been in attendance on the
family.
“How are your patients?” asked Charley.
“Mr. Sawtelle is so far improved as to be able to take the air in
the orchard,” was the reply, “but Mrs. Maynard is not satisfactorily
recovering from the shock.”
“Is she suffering pain?” asked Charley.
“I think not. The trouble seems to be a mental one. I fear for her
reason if there is not a change almost immediately.”
“Bernice is with her?” asked Charley.
“She was until a moment ago,” was the reply. “Then she called one of
the servants and left the house.”
Nick and Chick exchanged glances, and the latter almost immediately
left the parlor, taking the direction of the orchard as soon as he was
out of the house.
Passing along the south side of the house, Chick came to a barrier of
evergreens which shut out a view of the orchard from the front. Away to
the left, however, there was a gate, and the detective turned toward
it. As he moved along he heard voices on the other side of the hedge.
He could not distinguish the words, but the voices were those of Anton
and Bernice!
Chick passed through the gate and walked around the rear of the house
to the place where the ladder had been lifted to the roof of the
lean-to, hoping to see the couple on the way. However, the voices
ceased, and the young people were nowhere in sight.
The doctor quitted the parlor shortly after Chick’s departure, and,
thus left alone with Charley, Nick asked:
“You said this morning that you are a light sleeper. How did you rest
last night? Were you in your usual health when you awoke?”
“No,” was the reply. “I had a frightful headache, and my stomach was in
bad shape. It is seldom that I awake in bad condition. Perhaps I slept
too soundly.”
“Did you partake of food or drink after supper last night?” asked Nick.
Charley looked the surprise he did not express.
“Yes,” he said, in a moment, “it was a hot night, and we had ice cream
and lemonade in the parlor.”
“Who suggested it?”
“I think I did.”
“Who prepared it?”
“Some one in the kitchen.”
“Who served it?”
“Bernice.”
“How long did you remain awake after partaking of the cream and
lemonade?”
“Not very long. I was tired, and soon became sleepy and went off to
bed.”
Nick walked the floor for a moment.
“I know what your questions mean,” said Charley excitedly. “You think I
was drugged last night!”
Nick made no reply.
“I had thought of that,” continued Charley, “because of my unusual
sleep, but had rejected the notion because every member of the family
partook of the refreshments which were served, and because the
suspicion seemed to point to some member of the family as the burglar
and the murderer.”
“Never mind that now,” said Nick. “Did you see much of Anton last
night?”
“Yes, he was with me until I retired.”
“And Bernice?”
“She was with my aunt in the sitting room the greater part of the
evening.”
“You do not know whether she retired early?”
“Of course not. She usually does go to bed as soon as my aunt releases
her from duty for the night, and aunt went to her room early last
evening, before I did, in fact. Anton was the only one in the parlor
when I left.”
“Where was Bernice?” asked Nick.
“She was somewhere about the house. I remember now that aunt did not
require her services in her chamber.”
“She might have been in bed?”
“No, she was not, for I heard her voice downstairs, just before I left
for my room. She was somewhere at the back of the house.”
“What time did Mr. Maynard go to his room?” asked Nick.
“He was there most of the evening. He had what the boys call a grouch
about something, I guess.”
“Where were the diamonds during the evening?”
“In my trunk.”
Nick pondered a moment, and turned away, going to the door, from which
he turned back to ask:
“Were the diamonds in your trunk when you went to bed?”
Charley laughed.
“No doubt of that,” he said. “I looked at them.”
Nick walked to and fro on the lawn until Chick came up.
“You found Bernice in consultation with Anton, I presume,” he said.
“Yes, they were in the orchard together.”
“You could not hear their talk?”
Chick shook his head.
The county physician who served as coroner was now summoned and the
body placed at his disposal.
“I am sorry to have delayed you in your work so long,” Nick said, “but
I did not want to miss any possible clues by having it removed before
a thorough examination of the room had been made.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said the coroner. “I’ll get a few of the
neighbors together and hold an inquest right away. It will be death at
the hands of some person unknown, I suppose. Rather a bold deed, sir?”
“Yes,” said Nick soberly, “rather a bold deed.”