BY WHOSE HAND?
Recalling the promise given Medora Royal, and now feeling a decided
interest in the case itself, Nick Carter at once hastened to Fordham,
and approached the rectory just before nine o’clock.
The news of the crime had spread, and at one of the side gates a curious
crowd had gathered, restrained from entering the grounds by one of the
local police.
Near the house, and at some distance from the street, was a group of
men, including several officers and a physician, also the rector
himself, all apparently interested in the doctor’s examination of a body
lying upon the ground at their feet.
That Doctor Royal was among them, rather than in the house, suited Nick
to the letter. Slipping into a disguise, that he might not thus early be
identified with the case, Nick hastened to the adjoining cross-street on
which the dwelling fronted. There he encountered none to oppose his
entrance, and he strode quickly up the long gravel walk and rang the
door-bell.
The summons brought Dora Royal to the door, and Nick, observing her
shrink with surprise, quickly made himself known.
“I come in response to your telegram, Miss Royal.”
“But you are not Mr.——”
“Oh, yes, I am,” interposed Nick significantly. “I do not wish to be
recognized by others, however. I want a word with you alone, that I may
add to the instructions I gave you yesterday.”
Now convinced of his identity, Medora Royal hastened to admit him to a
reception-room, the door of which Nick quietly closed.
“Our interview must be very brief, Miss Royal, for I wish to have a look
at the evidence out yonder before it is seriously disturbed,” said he,
declining a chair. “First, however, state anything that you know of the
affair.”
“I know but very little, sir, save that it is most dreadful,” said the
girl, pale and agitated.
“That is true, Miss Royal, but I wish to get at the superficial facts as
quickly as possible.”
“If you will question me, sir, perhaps I more readily can——”
“I will do so,” interposed Nick, appreciating her nervous excitement.
“Tell me when and by whom the body was discovered?”
“About eight o’clock, sir, and by a young man who is employed here as a
gardener.”
“It is that of Cecil Kendall?”
“Alas, yes.”
“Dead?”
“For many hours, surely. He appears to have been killed with a——”
“Wait for my questions, please,” said Nick. “Was Kendall here in the
house last evening?”
“He was not.”
“Who was here?”
“Only my father, myself, and two servants,” replied Dora. “We all
retired soon after nine o’clock.”
“What of your brother?”
“He has not yet returned from Boston. That is, sir, unless—unless——”
“Unless what, Miss Royal?”
“Unless he arrived in New York yesterday, and remained at his room in
the city.”
“Very probably that is what he did,” nodded Nick, both to relieve the
girl and conceal his own misgivings. “Where is his room in town, Miss
Royal?”
“At the Carleton Chambers. He prefers to keep a room there, rather than
come out each night from college.”
“I see,” bowed Nick. “Now tell me, has your father said anything to you
about his interview with Moses Flood?”
“Not one word, sir.”
“And you have had no callers here since yesterday afternoon?”
“None, Detective Carter.”
“Kindly do not mention my name, Miss Royal,” smiled Nick. “Even the
walls may have ears.”
“I will be more guarded, sir.”
“And if you are still willing to follow my advice, I wish to add to my
instructions,” said Nick, now having learned the important facts which
she could impart to him.
“I am more than anxious to do so,” Dora answered feelingly. “Your
immediate response to my telegram convinces me that you have my welfare
at heart, and I will be rigidly governed by your instructions.”
“It will ultimately prove to your advantage,” said Nick earnestly. “I
shall leave no stone unturned to bring about that which is dearest to
you. This murder, however, if such it is, threatens to create serious
complications, and it will very possibly circumstantially incriminate
innocent parties.”
“Oh, oh, is it possible?”
“Let come what may, Miss Royal, I want you to trust the case entirely to
me, and do exactly what I advise.”
“Indeed, sir, I will.”
“Under no circumstances are you to mention me in connection with the
case, nor disclose our relations.”
“I will not.”
“Furthermore, whatever happens, or whoever appears to be involved, you
must volunteer no opinion of the case. If you are questioned, however,
answer precisely the same as if you had not overheard your father’s
interview with Moses Flood, and as if you and I had never met. Will you
do this?”
“I certainly will.”
“Then you may safely leave all the rest to me,” declared Nick warmly.
“By whom did you send the telegram this morning?”
“By our chambermaid.”
“Does she know to whom it was addressed, or of what it consisted?”
“Neither, sir. I sent it to the telegraph office under seal.”
“Very good,” said Nick approvingly. “Be equally guarded in the future,
or till I further advise you. This must be all for the present, Miss
Royal, as I wish to make a few investigations outside. I will leave by
the front door and pass around the house, that our interview here may
not be suspected.”
“But how am I to repay you, or thank you for——”
“By following my instructions to the letter,” Nick gently interposed, as
he led the troubled girl into the hall. “Keep them constantly in mind
and trust me to be constantly alert to your interests. No more now, Miss
Royal. You shall hear from me later.”
The last was said at the open door, and with the final word Nick nodded
and smiled encouragingly, then left the veranda and quickly made his way
around the house.
The interview had occupied but a very few minutes, and as Nick
approached the group of men gathered near Kendall’s body, the physician
was just about concluding his examination of the remains.
With a few rapid glances Nick took in the superficial evidence bearing
upon the crime. The body lay upon the greensward to the right of a
gravel walk leading around the house, and nearly midway between the walk
and the library windows. The plot of grass between the walk and the
house was about ten feet wide, and Nick promptly deduced one important
point.
“There is no door on this side of the house, nor any direct approach to
one from either gate,” he quickly reasoned. “Evidently Kendall came
around here to peer through the library window before entering the
house, and was struck down as he approached, or while quietly
withdrawing. For some reason he must have aimed to learn who was
within.”
A glance at the gravel walk and the greensward near-by, however, gave
Nick no clue. If Kendall’s assailant had left any telltale footprints
behind him, both his own and those that might have revealed the
movements of his victim had been obliterated by the heavy tread of the
several men gathered about the murdered man.
The body evidently lay where it had fallen, with arms outstretched and
face upturned, gory and ghastly in the morning sunlight. The skull had
been fractured by several blows with a heavy weapon, obviously a
bludgeon of some kind, and from the shocking wounds the blood had oozed
over the brow and hair of the stricken man, forming a sickening pool in
the matted grass on which his head rested.
“Clad just as he was when he left Flood’s gambling-house,” thought Nick.
“He must have come directly out here. There’s no sign of the satchel,
however, in which he had brought away his winnings. It looks as if the
motive was robbery.”
And Nick recalled the frenzied threats of young Harry Royal, but decided
it was too early in the game to draw any reliable conclusions.
Nick reverted almost immediately to the physician, who had risen while
wiping his soiled hands, and now addressed his several companions. Three
of these were officers of the local police, among them Captain Talbot,
of the precinct station, and one was a plain-clothes man from the
central office, Detective Joe Gerry.
Nick knew all of them very well, and they him, yet for the present he
preferred to hide his identity.
“A case of murder, Detective Gerry, that’s what it is,” declared the
physician, turning to the central office man. “The question is, By whose
hand was the crime committed?”
“How long has he been dead?” demanded Gerry bluntly.
“About twelve hours.”
“That would be since nine o’clock last evening?”
“That hits very near to it,” replied the physician.
“You are sure of this man’s identity, Doctor Royal?”
“Positively,” cried the rector, obviously much agitated. “He has been a
frequent visitor here. I cannot comprehend how such a fate could have
befallen him.”
“I’ll admit that the motive appears to be obscure,” replied Gerry,
staring down at the body. “It cannot have been robbery, for neither his
jewelry nor his pocketbook has been taken. No, no, the motive cannot
have been robbery.”
“You’ll change your mind, Gerry, when you learn that this man won ninety
thousand dollars just before coming out here,” said Nick to himself.
“Are some of your men searching the grounds for evidence, Talbot?”
inquired Gerry, turning to the captain of police.
“Yes, several of them,” nodded Captain Talbot.
The detective reverted to Doctor Royal.
“Were you at home last evening?” he demanded.
“I was,” bowed the rector. “Both my daughter and myself.”
“Did you have any callers?”
“None, sir. We were alone all the evening.”
“In what part of the house?”
“In the library, sir, from dinner until after nine o’clock.”
“Where is the library located?”
“These are the windows, sir, right here.”
“Oh, ho!” exclaimed Gerry. “Is that so? It looks as if this man had
designed to peer into them, and had been caught in the act, if not done
up for it. Possibly we may find a motive for the crime by looking a
little deeper. You say that this man Kendall was a friend of your
family?”
Nick Carter saw what was coming, yet he made no move to head it off. His
immediate design was only to observe the trend of the case, and then
shape his own course accordingly.
Doctor Royal grew even more pale upon hearing the remarks of the central
office man, and he fell to wringing his hands with a sort of nervous
apprehension. He was thinking of his son, who for several days had been
absent with Kendall, and had not yet returned.
Yet there lay Cecil Kendall, slain by the hand of an assassin, and the
unaccountable absence of Harry Royal still remained to be explained.
The mystery of it all dismayed the worthy clergyman, yet, despite his
desperate misgivings, he nerved himself to answer quite firmly:
“Yes, sir, Mr. Kendall has been a friend of my family for several
years.”
“Were you expecting a visit from him last evening?” asked Gerry, with a
keen eye to the rector’s perturbation.
“I cannot say that I was.”
“Has he called here frequently?”
“Quite so.”
“Come, come, Doctor Royal, what were his precise relations here?”
demanded Gerry suspiciously. “You appear averse to letting go of
something. If you know of any facts that may shed a ray of light upon
this case, let’s have them at once. I’m sure that you personally can
have no reason for hiding anything.”
“By no means,” cried Doctor Royal, with extreme nervousness. “I would
give the world to know the truth of this dreadful affair.”
“What of Kendall, then, and his relations here?”
“Well—really—as a matter of fact, he was in love with my daughter,”
faltered the rector, trembling visibly. “In a word, Detective Gerry, he
was about the same as engaged to her.”
“Oh, ho! Then it’s barely possible that jealousy led some party to kill
him,” cried Gerry, quickly snapping up the clue. “Has your daughter any
other admirer who might be guilty of this?”
“I—I—really I can name no one who——”
“Stop a bit!” cried Captain Talbot abruptly. “Here comes Kelly on the
run. By thunder, I believe he has the weapon with which the crime was
committed!”
Every eye was quickly turned in the direction indicated.
Along a path leading around the stable and to a gate at the rear of the
extensive grounds a policeman was hurriedly approaching, holding above
his head what appeared to be a stout stick. As he drew near, however, it
was seen to be a heavy cane, highly polished, and with a round silver
head.
“What have you there, Kelly?” cried Detective Gerry sharply.
“See for yourself, sir,” replied the officer. “I found it thrust beneath
a lot of brushwood under the wall at the rear of the grounds.”
The detective uttered a cry as he seized it.
“Good God! it’s covered with blood,” said he. “And see! here are bits of
scalp and hair dried on the side and head of it.”
“His hair!” cried Talbot, pointing to the lifeless man near-by.
“No doubt of it—not a shadow of doubt!” exclaimed Gerry. “It’s the
weapon with which the deed was done.”
Even Nick Carter was a little startled, as well as a good deal puzzled.
For Nick had almost instantly recognized the cane. It was the same that
Nick had seen Moses Flood take from a rack just before leaving his
gambling-house at half-past eight the previous evening.
Over the face of Doctor Leonard Royal there had come an expression not
easily described. It was that of sudden and overwhelming relief, mingled
with convictions and a bitterness that scarce had bounds. He no longer
was restrained by apprehensions concerning his son, and the latter’s
unaccountable absence, for he now believed that he read aright the
appalling evidence before him. With a cry of bitter condemnation he
sprang forward and laid his hand on Detective Gerry’s arm.
“Oh, the knave! the knave!” he exclaimed, in tones that startled all
hearers. “I now see it all. I should have known it—I should have known
it!”
“Good heavens, Doctor Royal, what are you saying?” demanded Gerry,
involuntarily drawing back.
“That cane—it belongs to Moses Flood,” cried the rector, pointing wildly
at the gory stick.
“To Moses Flood!”
“I have seen him carry it countless times,” cried the excited clergyman.
“You are right—you are right! Jealousy was the motive for this crime.
The cane belongs to Moses Flood, and only yesterday——”
“Do you mean Moses Flood, the gambler?” interrupted Gerry, in tones that
began to ring with exultant convictions.
“The same—the same!” cried Doctor Royal. “Only yesterday I scornfully
refused him the hand of my daughter, and told him she was already
engaged to Cecil Kendall. Jealousy must have been the motive. Flood must
be the guilty party. Only yesterday I——”
“By heavens, then, Flood is the man we want!” exclaimed Gerry, again
interrupting the pale and excited rector.
Nick Carter could see only too plainly the result of the discoveries
made there that morning, and he did not wait to hear more.
“Flood, eh?” he said to himself. “Not by a long chalk. Cane or no cane,
Moses Flood never killed this man. It’s plainly time for me to get in a
bit of lively work, and head off this man Gerry. He’ll now go at the
case like a bull at a gate.”
As he turned from the scene, bent upon hastening away, Nick caught sight
of a white, frightened face at one of the library windows—the face of
the girl from whom he had recently parted, and who plainly had seen and
heard all.
Darting around a corner of the house, Nick rapped smartly on one of the
side windows. The sound quickly brought Dora Royal to him, and he signed
for her to raise the sash.
“Do not be alarmed,” he then cried softly. “Your face will betray you
unless you conceal your feelings. Did you hear all that was said out
there?”
“Yes, yes, every word,” moaned the girl breathlessly. “Oh, oh, it cannot
be possible! He never did it—he could not have done it!”
“Take my word for that, Miss Royal, and suppress your fears,” Nick
hurriedly answered. “Let the evidence be what it may, never believe that
Flood committed that crime. I have no time for more. Be guarded,
constantly guarded, and follow my every instruction to the letter.”
“I surely will, sir. And you?”
“I’m off to queer the move against Moses Flood.”