PENDLETON IS VASTLY ENLIGHTENED
The Hammondsville local was taking on its passengers. It was a sooty
train, made up of three coaches and a combination baggage and smoking
car. The gateman pointed out its conductor, inside, and the two
approached him.
He was a spare, elderly man with a wrinkled, shrewd face, and a short,
pointed manner of speech.
"Oh, the General Passenger Agent sent you?" said he, examining them.
"All right. What's wanted?"
"Your train stops at a station called Cordova, does it not?"
"It stops at every station on the run. Cordova's one of them."
"There is an institution at Cordova, I believe?"
"For deaf and dumb kids--yes."
"Of course some of the people from there ride in and out with you at
times."
"I don't get many of the youngsters. But the folks that run the place
often come to the city."
"You are acquainted with them, of course. I mean in the way that
local conductors come to be acquainted with their regular riders."
Purvis grinned.
"Say," said he. "It's hard to get acquainted with some of them asylum
people. There's only a couple of them that can talk!"
"I see." Pendleton noted Ashton-Kirk's dark eyes fixed steadfastly
upon the man's face as though he desired to read the remainder from
his expression. "There is one of them," continued the investigator,
"whom perhaps you have noticed. He's rather a small man, and wears
thick glasses. He also dresses very carefully, and he wears a silk
hat."
"Oh, yes," said the conductor, "I know him. He goes in and out quite
often. Very polite too. Always says good day with his fingers; if the
train is crowded, he's a great little fellow for getting up and giving
his seat to the ladies."
"Have you ever heard his name?"
"Yes. It's Locke. He's some kind of a teacher."
Ashton-Kirk thanked the man, and with Pendleton walked through the
gate. As they were descending the stairs to the street, Pendleton
said:
"And now he wears a silk hat, does he? But you have not made sure of
the man. You forgot to inquire if Mr. Locke favored the German
dramatists."
For a moment Ashton-Kirk looked puzzled, then he burst into a laugh.
"Ah," said he, "you remember that."
"Of course I remember it. How can I forget it? You go prancing about
so like a conjurer that there's not a moment that I don't expect
something. If you finish by dragging the murderer from your sleeve,
I'll not be at all astonished. Your methods lead me to expect some
such a finale."
"To explain each step as I take it," said the investigator, "would be
much more difficult than the work itself. However the time has now
arrived for me to enlighten you somewhat upon this point, at least. I
am quite convinced that this man Locke played a leading part in the
murder of Hume. He is in a manner definitely placed, and I can speak
of him without fracturing any of my prejudices."
They got into the car, and Ashton-Kirk continued to the chauffeur:
"Christie Place." Then to Pendleton, he added as the machine started,
"I want to make some inquiries at the house where Spatola lived; and
in order to make the matter clearer, we'll just drop in at 478."
As they proceeded along at a bounding pace, the investigator related
to Pendleton what had passed between Edyth Vale and himself a few
hours before. Pendleton drew a great breath of relief.
"Of course I knew that her part in the matter was something like
that," he said, "but I'm glad to hear it, just the same." He looked at
his friend for a moment and then continued: "But how did you know that
Edyth heard a door close immediately after the pistol shot?"
They had just drawn up in front of Hume's, and as Ashton-Kirk got out,
he said:
"If you had only used your eyes as we were going over the place," said
he, "you'd have no occasion to ask that question."
There was a different policeman at the door; but fortunately he knew
the investigator and they were allowed to enter at once. When about
half way up the stairs, Ashton-Kirk said:
"This, I think, is about the place where Miss Vale stopped when she
saw the light-rays moving across the ceiling and wall of the hall. You
get the first glimpse of those from this point. Remain here a moment
and I'll try and reproduce what she heard--with the exception of the
cry."
Pendleton obediently paused upon the stairs; Ashton-Kirk went on up
and disappeared. In a few moments there came a sharp, ringing report,
and Pendleton, dashing up the stairs, saw his friend standing holding
open the showroom door--the one with Hume's name painted upon it.
"It's the bell," said Ashton-Kirk, pointing to the gong at the top of
the door frame. "When I examined it this morning I saw that it was
screwed up too tight, and knew that it would make a sound much like a
pistol shot to ears not accustomed to it."
Pendleton stared in amazement at the simplicity of the thing.
"I see," said he. "While Edyth stood listening on the stairs someone
opened this door!"
"Yes; someone unacquainted with the place. Otherwise he would have
known of the bell."
"But how did you know that Edyth heard a door close?"
"Whoever rang the bell closed the door after him. It has a spring lock
like the street door; and was locked when Miss Vale tried it a few
moments later."
"You say that the ringing of the bell shows the person who rang the
bell to have been unacquainted with the place. I think you must be
wrong here. Spatola is acquainted with the place; he was here at the
time. This is proven by the scream of the frightened cockatoo which
followed the ringing of the bell."
"It was not a cockatoo that made the sound," said Ashton-Kirk. "Give
me a moment and I think I can convince you of that."
The gas in the hall was lighted; the investigator stopped at the foot
of the stairs leading to the fourth floor.
"Persons," he continued, "who secretly enter buildings, as a rule
never trust to the lighting apparatus of the buildings. One reason for
this is that it is not under their control--another that they cannot
carry their light about with them."
He pointed to the lowermost step of the flight; there, as before, were
the stump of candle, the burnt matches, the traces of tallow upon the
wood.
"There were two or more men concerned in this crime," proceeded
Ashton-Kirk, "and that is the method of lighting that they chose--a
candle."
"Two men! How do you know that?" asked Pendleton.
"You shall see in a moment," replied the investigator. Then he
continued: "And the candle was used not only for illumination--it
served another purpose, and so supplied me with the first definite
information that my searching had given me up to that time."
Pendleton looked at the discouraged little candle end, with its long
black wick, the two charred splinters of pine wood and the eccentric
trail of tallow droppings. Then he shook his head.
"How you could get enlightenment from those things is beyond me," he
said. "But tell me what they indicated."
"The candle and the match-sticks count for little," said Ashton-Kirk.
"It is the tracings of melted tallow that possess the secret. Look
closely at them. At first glance they may seem the random drippings of
a carelessly held light. But a little study will show you a clearly
defined system contained in them."
"Well, you might say there were three lines of it," said Pendleton,
after a moment's inspection.
"Right," said Ashton-Kirk. "Three lines there are, and each follows a
row of tack heads. These latter were, apparently, once driven in to
hold down a step-protector of some sort which has since become worn
out and been removed."
The speaker took a pad of paper and a pencil from his pocket. Across
the pad he drew three lines one under the other. Then with another
glance at the candle droppings upon the step, he made a copy of them
that looked like this:
[Illustration: sketch of clue]
Pendleton bent over the result under the flare of the gas light; and
as he looked his eyes widened.
"Why," cried he, "they look like a stenographer's word-signs."
"Good!" said Ashton-Kirk. "And that, my dear fellow, is exactly what
they are. There, scrawled erratically in dripping tallow, is a three
word sentence in Benn Pitman's phonetic characters. It is roughly
done, and may have occupied some minutes; but it is well done, and in
excellent German. I'll write it out for you."
Then he wrote on the pad in big, plain Roman letters:
HINTER
WAYNE'S
BILDNISSE
"There it is," said the investigator, "done into the German language,
line for line. Brush up your knowledge now; let me see you turn it
into English."
Pendleton, whose German was rusty from long disuse, pondered over the
three words. Suddenly a light shot across his face; then his eyes were
in a blaze.
"_Behind Wayne's Portrait!_"
He fairly shouted the words. Astonishment filled him; he was trembling
with excitement.
"By Heaven," he gasped, "you have it, Kirk. Now I understand the
smashing of the portraits of General Wayne. There was something of
value hidden behind one of them--between the picture and the back! But
what?"
"It was nothing of any great bulk; the hiding place indicated points
that out, surely," said Ashton-Kirk, composedly. "A document of some
sort, perhaps."
Pendleton stood for a moment, lost in the wonder of the revelation;
then his mind began to work once more.
"But I can't understand the writing of the thing upon the step," said
he.
"It was the fact that it was written that proved to me that there were
at least two men concerned. One knew the hiding place of the coveted
object; and this is how he conveyed the information to his companion,"
pointing to the step.
"But," protested Pendleton, "why did he not put it into words? Surely
it would have been much easier?"
"Not for this particular person. As it happens, he was a mute."
Again Pendleton's eyes opened widely; then recollection came to him
and he said:
"It was Locke--the man concerning whom you were making inquiries of
the railroad conductor!"
Ashton-Kirk nodded, and replied.
"And it was he who shrieked when the door of the showroom opened. The
out-cry of a deaf-mute, if you have ever heard one, has the same
squawking, senseless sound as that of a psittaceous bird like the
parrot or cockatoo."
"But," said Pendleton, "the fact that the man who scrawled these signs
upon the step _was_ a deaf-mute, scarcely justifies the eccentricity
of the thing. Why did he not use a pencil, as you have done?"
"I can't say exactly, of course. But did it never happen that you were
without a pencil at a time when you needed one rather urgently?"
"This thing has sort of knocked me off my balance, I suppose," said
Pendleton, rather bewildered. "Don't expect too much of me, Kirk." He
stuffed his hands in his pockets dejectedly and continued: "You now
tell me that this man was a mute. Yesterday you said he was small,
that he was near-sighted, that he was well dressed and knew something
of the modern German dramatists. You also told the conductor that he
wore thick glasses and a silk hat. Now, I suppose I'm all kinds of an
idiot for not understanding how you know these things about a man you
never saw. But I confess it candidly; I _don't_ understand."
"It all belongs to my method of work," said Ashton-Kirk. "It's simple
enough when you go about it the right way. I have already given you my
reasons for thinking the man who did this," pointing to the step, "to
be a mute. I judged that he was of small stature because he chose the
bottom step upon which to trace his word signs. Even an ordinary sized
man would have selected one higher up."
"All right," said Pendleton. "That looks good to me, so far."
"The deductions that he was well dressed and also near-sighted were
from the one source. His hat fell off while he was tracing the signs;
that showed me that he was forced to stoop very close to his work in
order to see what he was about. You see that, don't you?"
"How did you know his hat fell off?" asked Pendleton, incredulously.
"Mrs. Dwyer is evidently paid to clean only the hall and lower
stairway," replied Ashton-Kirk, composedly. "And that she sticks
closely to that arrangement is shown by the condition of this upper
flight. The dust upon the step is rather thick. If you will notice,"
and he indicated a place on the second step, "here is a spot where a
round, flat object rested. That this object was a silk hat is
positive. You can see the sharp impress of the nap in the dust; here
is the curl in the exact center of the crown as seen in silk hats
only. And men who wear silk hats are usually well-dressed men."
"But how can you be at all sure that the hat fell off? Isn't it
possible that he took it off and laid it there?"
"Possible--yes--but scarcely probable. A well-dressed man is so from
instinct. And his instinctive neatness would hardly permit him to put
his well-kept hat down in the dust."
"Go on," said Pendleton.
"The stairs have been used since the hat fell there; but the dust has
not been disturbed. There is a hand-rail on the other side of the
flight, and consequently, all went up and down on that side."
"I can understand the thick glasses," said Pendleton, "his being
near-sighted suggested those. But what made you think he cared for the
modern German dramatists?"
"That was a hazard, merely," and the investigator laughed.
"He knew German and was apparently a man of intelligence. No man who
combines these two things can fail of admiration of Hauptmann,
Sudermann and their brothers of the pen. And then a mute who knew
shorthand well enough to have such ready recourse to it, struck me as
being unusual. They all know the digital sign language; but German and
phonography classed him as one above the ordinary. This knowledge
brought the suggestion of an institution. Then came the suggestion
that he might be an instructor in such an institution. The fragment
from the railroad ticket hinted that the institution might be out of
town. Fuller's research placed two such institutions. The ticket
counter at the railroad office narrowed it down to one. The conductor
of the train all but put his hand on the man."
There was a short silence. Then Pendleton drew a long breath.
"Well, Kirk," said he. "I don't mind admitting that you have me
winging. I'll tell you now it's clever; but if I can think of a
stronger word later, I'll work it in instead."
"We have a pretty positive line on one of the criminals, and we will
now turn to the other," said the investigator, briskly. "It was this
other who committed the murder. The infirmities of Locke, the mute,
made it impossible for him to venture into the rooms. The risks for a
deaf and short-sighted man would be too great. Danger might creep upon
him and he neither hear nor see it. For some reason which I have not
yet discovered, but it may have been distrust, he had not informed his
confederate as to the whereabouts of the object of their entrance.
When they got as far as this hall, he concluded to do so; but as
neither man had a pencil, he conveyed the information as shown; then
the confederate entered Hume's apartments by the door which Mrs.
Dwyer found open. This, by an oversight, may have been left unlocked,
or the criminals may have had a key. However, that does not affect the
case one way or another.
"It is my opinion that Hume was seated at his desk at this time and
heard the intruder enter the storage room; then pushing back his chair
as we saw it, he arose. The criminal, however, sprang upon and struck
him so expertly that he collapsed without a sound. Then the bayonet
came into play.
"A search followed for the thing desired--a search, short, sharp and
savage. The murderer either found what he sought, or the footsteps of
Miss Vale upon the stairs frightened him. At any rate he pulled open
the showroom door--the one with the gong; Locke, still in the hall,
screamed and both fled up these stairs to the roof and away."
Pendleton had waited patiently until his friend finished. Then he
said, with a twinkle in his eye:
"You say the murderer opened the show room door, the gong rang and
then Locke screamed. Now, old chap, that's not possible. If Locke is
deaf, he couldn't hear the gong; and so there would be no occasion for
him to cry out."
"I think if you'll go back over what I've really said," spoke
Ashton-Kirk, "you will find that I have made no mention of Locke
crying out because of the gong. I said the murderer opened the door
that has the gong. Then Locke screamed, not because he heard anything,
but because of the sight he saw."
"Ah!"
"He caught a glimpse of Hume upon the floor--as we saw him."
"You think, then, that Locke's intentions were not murder?"
"At the present time I am led to think so. The confederate either was
forced to kill to save himself, or he had nursed a private scheme of
revenge. And the ferocity of the blow with the bayonet inclines me to
prefer the latter as a theory."
"That brings us back to both Morris and Spatola," said Pendleton,
gravely. "By all accounts both bore Hume a bitter grudge. But the fact
that both criminals escaped by the roof shows familiarity with the
neighborhood, as Miss Vale pointed out to you. This seems to point to
Spatola."
"So does the purchase of the bayonet, and in the same indefinite
fashion," said Ashton-Kirk. "But come, we motored to Christie Place
more to inquire about this same Italian than anything else. So let's
set about it."
They thanked the policeman in charge and left the building. As they
proceeded down the street toward the house in which the newspapers had
informed them Spatola lived, the investigator paused suddenly.
"I think," said he, "it would be best for us to first see Spatola
himself, and ask a few questions. This might give us the proper point
of view for the remainder."
And so they once more got into the car; and away they sped toward the
place where the violinist was confined.