CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE
A slight sound behind him caused Douglas to wheel swiftly around. A
pretty woman, with astonishment written largely in her round eyes,
stood regarding the two men. She was carrying a handbag.
"Whom do you wish to see?" asked Brett sharply.
"No one, Monsieur," replied Annette, her accent denoting her
nationality. "I am Miss Thornton's maid."
Douglas started. "Eleanor--Miss Thornton!" Was it possible that she
could mean _the_ Eleanor Thornton he used to know?
"I am taking her bag to her room as she is spending the night here,"
added the servant.
"Indeed." Brett inspected her keenly. "When did Miss Thornton enter the
house?"
"A few minutes ago, Monsieur," vaguely. "Joshua showed Mademoiselle in
while I stopped a moment to speak with the chauffeur, and he left the
front door open so that I could enter."
At that moment the butler appeared from the dining room carrying a tray
on which were glasses and a pitcher of ice water.
"Joshua, is this Miss Thornton's maid?" asked Brett.
"Yessir," Joshua ducked his head respectfully as he answered the
detective. "Annette, Miss Eleanor done hab her same room next do' ter
Miss Cynthia's. Yo' kin take her things right upstairs, and tell Miss
Eleanor I done got der ice water fo' her."
With a half curtsey Annette stepped past the two men, and ran quickly
up the staircase.
"Stop a moment, Joshua," ordered Brett, as the butler started to follow
the maid. "Who opened the door into the library a few moments ago?"
"'Deed I dunno, suh; I been so busy takin' in cyards I ain't noticed
particular."
"Who has been in the hall besides yourself?" persisted Brett.
"Ain't no one," began Joshua, then paused. "Now I do recollect dat
Marse Philip cum in right smart time ergo, suh. He axed fo' yo', and I
tole him yo' was in de lib'ary. I 'specks he mighter been alookin' fo'
yo'."
"Ah, indeed; where is Mr. Winthrop now?"
"Ah dunno, suh."
"Well, find him, Joshua, and tell him I wish to see him--at once."
Brett's pleasant voice had deepened, and Joshua blinked nervously.
"Yessir, I'll tell him, suh, 'deed ah will," he mumbled, as he started
upstairs.
As Douglas and Brett walked across the hall to enter the library a man
stepped out of the drawing-room.
"Are you looking for me, Mr. Brett?"
The question was asked courteously enough, and Douglas was the more
astonished to encounter a hostile stare as the newcomer glanced at him.
"I hope you can give me a few minutes of your time," said Brett; "will
you be so good as to step into the library?" and he stood aside to
allow Philip Winthrop to enter first. Douglas followed them into the
room and locked the door. As the key clicked slightly Winthrop frowned,
and his pale face flushed.
"That is only a precaution against eavesdroppers," explained Douglas
quickly.
"Mr. Winthrop, this is Mr. Douglas Hunter, who is assisting me in my
efforts to unravel the mystery surrounding Senator Carew's death, and
with your permission will be present at this interview."
"Why, certainly," exclaimed Winthrop, with well simulated heartiness;
"won't you both sit down?" and he dropped into the revolving desk
chair. Douglas picked out his old seat in the window and turned his
back to the light the better to face Winthrop and Brett, who also sat
near the desk.
"When will they hold the inquest, Mr. Brett?" questioned Winthrop.
"The coroner, Dr. Penfield, told me to-morrow."
"Has Hamilton a lawyer to look out for his interests?"
"That's not absolutely necessary at the inquest, Mr. Winthrop. At
present the negro is simply held on suspicion. If the inquest so
decides, he will be charged with the murder and held for the grand
jury."
Douglas had been busy scanning Winthrop's face intently. He noted the
heavy lines in the handsome face, and the unnatural brilliancy of his
eyes. It was apparent to both men, by Winthrop's thick speech and
unsteady hands, which kept fingering the desk ornaments nervously, that
he had been drinking heavily.
"Where did you last see Senator Carew?"
"In this room yesterday afternoon."
"Did you see him alone, or were others present?"
"He was alone."
"Did he show you a letter which he was then writing?" inquired Douglas
at a venture, and was startled at the effect of his question on
Winthrop. The latter whitened perceptibly, and pulled his short black
mustache to hide his twitching lips.
"I know nothing about any letter," he stammered.
Brett did not press the point, but asked instead: "Where did you spend
last night?"
"I dined here with my mother and cousin."
"And afterwards?" put in Douglas.
"I went to the Alibi Club soon after dinner."
"How late did you stay there?"
"Most of the night," was the evasive reply.
"Please mention the exact hour you left the club," persisted Brett.
"I really cannot recollect the exact time; I did not reach this
house until after two this morning. We had a pretty gay time at the
club, and I was in no condition to remember the hour," and he smiled
deprecatingly.
Again Brett did not press the question. He turned over the pages of his
small memorandum book in which he had been making entries.
"Have you any idea where Senator Carew dined and spent the evening?"
"No," came the emphatic answer. "He asked me to tell my mother not to
expect him at dinner, that was all."
"Ah, indeed. Have you any idea when the Senator left the house?"
"No, I left him here, and went up to my room, where I stayed until
dinner was announced."
"Where is your room?"
"Third floor, back."
"Who has rooms on the next floor?"
"Senator Carew's bedroom, bath, and sitting-room are over this part
of the house; Miss Cynthia Carew occupies the suite of rooms across
the hall from his rooms. My mother and I have the third floor to
ourselves." Winthrop plucked nervously at the desk pad. "Talking is dry
work; won't you and Mr. Hunter join me, I'll ring for Joshua."
"One moment," Brett's tone was peremptory and, with an unmistakable
scowl, Winthrop sank down in his chair and leaned heavily on the desk.
"What members of the family were in the house yesterday afternoon?"
Winthrop thought for a moment before replying. "No one but my uncle and
myself," he said reluctantly. "My mother and Miss Carew went out early
to some bridge party, and did not return until just before dinner."
"I see." Brett leaned back in his chair and contemplated Winthrop
thoughtfully.
"Mr. Winthrop," asked Douglas, breaking the short silence, "were you
and your uncle always on good terms?"
"Why, yes." Winthrop's twitching fingers closed unconsciously on the
slender desk file, and as he spoke his shifting eyes dropped from
Douglas' clear gaze, and fell on the sharp steel desk ornament in his
hand. With a convulsive shudder he dropped it and sprang to his feet.
"What's all this questioning about?" he demanded loudly. "I've had
enough of this, you----" his hands clinched, and the blood flamed his
pale face, a gurgle choked his utterance, and before Brett could reach
him he fell prone across the desk.