are a busy man, we will now excuse you. Let Dr. Jacobs be called."
As this gentleman, as well as the witness who followed him, merely
corroborated the statements of the other, and made it an accepted fact
that the shelves had fallen upon the body of the girl some time after
the first wound had been inflicted, I will not attempt to repeat their
testimony. The question now agitating me was whether they would endeavor
to fix the time at which the shelves fell by the evidence furnished by
the clock.
X.
IMPORTANT EVIDENCE.
Evidently not; for the next words I heard were: "Miss Amelia
Butterworth!"
I had not expected to be called so soon, and was somewhat flustered by
the suddenness of the summons, for I am only human. But I rose with
suitable composure, and passed to the place indicated by the Coroner, in
my usual straightforward manner, heightened only by a sense of the
importance of my position, both as a witness and a woman whom the once
famous Mr. Gryce had taken more or less into his confidence.
My appearance seemed to awaken an interest for which I was not prepared.
I was just thinking how well my name had sounded uttered in the sonorous
tones of the Coroner, and how grateful I ought to be for the courage I
had displayed in substituting the genteel name of Amelia for the weak
and sentimental one of Araminta, when I became conscious that the eyes
directed towards me were filled with an expression not easy to
understand. I should not like to call it admiration and will not call it
amusement, and yet it seemed to be made up of both. While I was puzzling
myself over it, the first question came.
As my examination before the Coroner only brought out the facts already
related, I will not burden you with a detailed account of it. One
portion alone may be of interest. I was being questioned in regard to
the appearance of the couple I had seen entering the Van Burnam mansion,
when the Coroner asked if the young woman's step was light, or if it
betrayed hesitation.
I replied: "No hesitation; she moved quickly, almost gaily."
"And he?"
"Was more moderate; but there is no signification in that; he may have
been older."
"No theories, Miss Butterworth; it is facts we are after. Now, do you
know that he was older?"
"No, sir."
"Did you get any idea as to his age?"
"The impression he made was that of being a young man."
"And his height?"
"Was medium, and his figure slight and elegant. He moved as a gentleman
moves; of this I can speak with great positiveness."
"Do you think you could identify him, Miss Butterworth, if you should
see him?"
I hesitated, as I perceived that the whole swaying mass eagerly awaited
my reply. I even turned my head because I saw others doing so; but I
regretted this when I found that I, as well as others, was glancing
towards the door beyond which the Van Burnams were supposed to sit. To
cover up the false move I had made--for I had no wish as yet to centre
suspicion upon anybody--I turned my face quickly back to the crowd and
declared in as emphatic a tone as I could command:
"I have thought I could do so if I saw him under the same circumstances
as those in which my first impression was made. But lately I have begun
to doubt even that. I should never dare trust to my memory in this
regard."
The Coroner looked disappointed, and so did the people around me.
"It is a pity," remarked the Coroner, "that you did not see more
plainly. And, now, how did these persons gain an entrance into the
house?"
I answered in the most succinct way possible.
I told them how he had used a door-key in entering, of the length of
time the man stayed inside, and of his appearance on going away. I also
related how I came to call a policeman to investigate the matter next
day, and corroborated the statements of this official as to the
appearance of the deceased at time of discovery.
And there my examination stopped. I was not asked any questions tending
to bring out the cause of the suspicion I entertained against the
scrub-woman, nor were the discoveries I had made in conjunction with Mr.
Gryce inquired into. It was just as well, perhaps, but I would never
approve of a piece of work done for me in this slipshod fashion.
A recess now followed. Why it was thought necessary, I cannot imagine,
unless the gentlemen wished to smoke. Had they felt as much interest in
this murder as I did, they would not have wanted bite or sup till the
dreadful question was settled. There being a recess, I improved the
opportunity by going into a restaurant near by where one can get very
good buns and coffee at a reasonable price. But I could have done
without them.
The next witness, to my astonishment, was Mr. Gryce. As he stepped
forward, heads were craned and many women rose in their seats to get a
glimpse of the noted detective. I showed no curiosity myself, for by
this time I knew his features well, but I did feel a great satisfaction
in seeing him before the Coroner, for now, thought I, we shall hear
something worth our attention.
But his examination, though interesting, was not complete. The Coroner,
remembering his promise to show us the other end of the steel point
which had been broken off in the dead girl's brain, limited himself to
such inquiries as brought out the discovery of the broken hat-pin in Mr.
Van Burnam's parlor register. No mention was made by the witness of any
assistance which he may have received in making this discovery; a fact
which caused me to smile: men are so jealous of any interference in
their affairs.
The end found in the register and the end which the Coroner's physician
had drawn from the poor woman's head were both handed to the jury, and
it was interesting to note how each man made his little effort to fit
the two ends together, and the looks they interchanged as they found
themselves successful. Without doubt, and in the eyes of all, the
instrument of death had been found. But what an instrument!
The felt hat which had been discovered under the body was now produced
and the one hole made by a similar pin examined. Then Mr. Gryce was
asked if any other pin had been picked up from the floor of the room,
and he replied, no; and the fact was established in the minds of all
present that the young woman had been killed by a pin taken from her own
hat.
"A subtle and cruel crime; the work of a calculating intellect," was the
Coroner's comment as he allowed the detective to sit down. Which
expression of opinion I thought reprehensible, as tending to prejudice
the jury against the only person at present suspected.
The inquiry now took a turn. The name of Miss Ferguson was called. Who
was Miss Ferguson? It was a new name to most of us, and her face when
she rose only added to the general curiosity. It was the plainest face
imaginable, yet it was neither a bad nor unintelligent one. As I studied
it and noted the nervous contraction that disfigured her lip, I could
not but be sensible of my blessings. I am not handsome myself, though
there have been persons who have called me so, but neither am I ugly,
and in contrast to this woman--well, I will say nothing. I only know
that, after seeing her, I felt profoundly grateful to a kind Providence.
As for the poor woman herself, she knew she was no beauty, but she had
become so accustomed to seeing the eyes of other people turn away from
her face, that beyond the nervous twitching of which I have spoken, she
showed no feeling.
"What is your full name, and where do you live?" asked the Coroner.
"My name is Susan Ferguson, and I live in Haddam, Connecticut," was her
reply, uttered in such soft and beautiful tones that every one was
astonished. It was like a stream of limpid water flowing from a most
unsightly-looking rock. Excuse the metaphor; I do not often indulge.
"Do you keep boarders?"
"I do; a few, sir; such as my house will accommodate."
"Whom have you had with you this summer?"
I knew what her answer would be before she uttered it; so did a hundred
others, but they showed their knowledge in different ways. I did not
show mine at all.
"I have had with me," said she, "a Mr. and Mrs. Van Burnam from New
York. Mr. Howard Van Burnam is his full name, if you wish me to be
explicit."
"Any one else?"
"A Mr. Hull, also from New York, and a young couple from Hartford. My
house accommodates no more."
"How long have the first mentioned couple been with you?"
"Three months. They came in June."
"Are they with you still?"
"Virtually, sir. They have not moved their trunks; but neither of them
is in Haddam at present. Mrs. Van Burnam came to New York last Monday
morning, and in the afternoon her husband also left, presumably for New
York. I have seen nothing of either of them since."
(It was on Tuesday night the murder occurred.)
"Did either of them take a trunk?"
"No, sir."
"A hand-bag?"
"Yes; Mrs. Van Burnam carried a bag, but it was a very small one."
"Large enough to hold a dress?"
"O no, sir."
"And Mr. Van Burnam?"
"He carried an umbrella; I saw nothing else."
"Why did they not leave together? Did you hear any one say?"
"Yes; I heard them say Mrs. Van Burnam came against her husband's
wishes. He did not want her to leave Haddam, but she would, and he was
none too pleased at it. Indeed they had words about it, and as both our
rooms overlook the same veranda, I could not help hearing some of their
talk."
"Will you tell us what you heard?"
"It does not seem right" (thus this honest woman spoke), "but if it's
the law, I must not go against it. I heard him say these words: 'I have
changed my mind, Louise. The more I think of it, the more disinclined I
am to have you meddle in the matter. Besides, it will do no good. You
will only add to the prejudice against you, and our life will become
more unbearable than it is now.'"
"Of what were they speaking?"
"I do not know."
"And what did she reply?"
"O, she uttered a torrent of words that had less sense in them than
feeling. She wanted to go, she would go, _she_ had not changed _her_
mind, and considered that her impulses were as well worth following as
his cool judgment. She was not happy, had never been happy, and meant
there should be a change, even if it were for the worse. But she did not
believe it would be for the worse. Was she not pretty? Was she not very
pretty when in distress and looking up thus? And I heard her fall on her
knees, a movement which called out a grunt from her husband, but whether
this was an expression of approval or disapproval I cannot say. A
silence followed, during which I caught the sound of his steady tramping
up and down the room. Then she spoke again in a petulant way. 'It may
seem foolish to _you_' she cried, 'knowing me as you do, and being used
to seeing me in all my moods. But to him it will be a surprise, and I
will so manage it that it will effect all we want, and more, too,
perhaps. I--I have a genius for some things, Howard; and my better angel
tells me I shall succeed.'"
"And what did he reply to that?"
"That the name of her better angel was Vanity; that his father would see
through her blandishments; that he forbade her to prosecute her schemes;
and much more to the same effect. To all of which she answered by a
vigorous stamp of her foot, and the declaration that she was going to do
what she thought best in spite of all opposition; that it was a lover,
and not a tyrant that she had married, and that if he did not know what
was good for himself, she did, and that when he received an intimation
from his father that the breach in the family was closed, then he would
acknowledge that if she had no fortune and no connections, she had at
least a plentiful supply of wit. Upon which he remarked: 'A poor
qualification when it verges upon folly!' which seemed to close the
conversation, for I heard no more till the sound of her skirts rustling
past my door assured me she had carried her point and was leaving the
house. But this was not done without great discomfiture to her husband,
if one may judge from the few brief but emphatic words that escaped him
before he closed his own door and followed her down the hall."
"Do you remember those words?"
"They were swear words, sir; I am sorry to say it, but he certainly
cursed her and his own folly. Yet I always thought he loved her."
"Did you see her after she passed your door?"
"Yes, sir, on the walk outside."
"Was she then on the way to the train?"
"Yes, sir."
"Carrying the bag of which you have spoken?"
"Yes, sir; another proof of the state of feeling between them, for he
was very considerate in his treatment of ladies, and I never saw him do
anything ungallant before."
"You say you watched her as she went down the walk?"
"Yes, sir; it is human nature, sir; I have no other excuse to offer."
It was an apology I myself might have made. I conceived a liking for
this homely matter-of-fact woman.
"Did you note her dress?"
"Yes, sir; that is human nature also, or, rather, woman's nature."
"Particularly, madam; so that you can describe it to the jury before
you?"
"I think so."
"Will you, then, be good enough to tell us what sort of a dress Mrs. Van
Burnam wore when she left your house for the city?"
"It was a black and white plaid silk, very rich----"
Why, what did this mean? We had all expected a very different
description.
"It was made fashionably, and the sleeves--well, it is impossible to
describe the sleeves. She wore no wrap, which seemed foolish to me, for
we have very sudden changes sometimes in September."
"A plaid dress! And did you notice her hat?"
"O, I have seen the hat often. It was of every conceivable color. It
would have been called bad taste at one time, but now-a-days----"
The pause was significant. More than one man in the room chuckled, but
the women kept a discreet silence.
"Would you know that hat if you saw it?"
"I should think I would!"
The emphasis was that of a countrywoman, and amused some people
notwithstanding the melodious tone in which it was uttered. But it did
not amuse me; my thoughts had flown to the hat which Mr. Gryce had found
in the third room of Mr. Van Burnam's house, and which was of every
color of the rainbow.
The Coroner asked two other questions, one in regard to the gloves worn
by Mrs. Van Burnam, and the other in regard to her shoes. To the first,
Miss Ferguson replied that she did not notice her gloves, and to the
other, that Mrs. Van Burnam was very fashionable, and as pointed shoes
were the fashion, in cities at least, she probably wore pointed shoes.
The discovery that Mrs. Van Burnam had been differently dressed on that
day from the young woman found dead in the Van Burnam parlors, had acted
as a shock upon most of the spectators. They were just beginning to
recover from it when Miss Ferguson sat down. The Coroner was the only
one who had not seemed at a loss. Why, we were soon destined to know.
XI.
THE ORDER CLERK.
A lady well known in New York society was the next person summoned. She
was a friend of the Van Burnam family, and had known Howard from
childhood. She had not liked his marriage; indeed, she rather
participated in the family feeling against it, but when young Mrs. Van
Burnam came to her house on the preceding Monday, and begged the
privilege of remaining with her for one night, she had not had the heart
to refuse her. Mrs. Van Burnam had therefore slept in her house on
Monday night.
Questioned in regard to that lady's appearance and manner, she answered
that her guest was unnaturally cheerful, laughing much and showing a
great vivacity; that she gave no reason for her good spirits, nor did
she mention her own affairs in any way,--rather took pains not to do so.
"How long did she stay?"
"Till the next morning."
"And how was she dressed?"
"Just as Miss Ferguson has described."
"Did she bring her hand-bag to your house?"
"Yes, and left it there. We found it in her room after she was gone."
"Indeed! And how do you account for that?"
"She was preoccupied. I saw it in her cheerfulness, which was forced and
not always well timed."
"And where is that bag now?"
"Mr. Van Burnam has it. We kept it for a day and as she did not call for
it, sent it down to the office on Wednesday morning."
"Before you had heard of the murder?"
"O yes, before I had heard anything about the murder."
"As she was your guest, you probably accompanied her to the door?"
"I did, sir."
"Did you notice her hands? Can you say what was the color of her
gloves?"
"I do not think she wore any gloves on leaving; it was very warm, and
she held them in her hand. I remembered this, for I noticed the sparkle
of her rings as she turned to say good-bye."
"Ah, you saw her rings!"
"Distinctly."
"So that when she left you she was dressed in a black and white plaid
silk, had a large hat covered with flowers on her head, and wore rings?"
"Yes, sir."
And with these words ringing in the ears of the jury, the witness sat
down.
What was coming? Something important, or the Coroner would not look so
satisfied, or the faces of the officials about him so expectant. I
waited with great but subdued eagerness for the testimony of the next
witness, who was a young man by the name of Callahan.
I don't like young men in general. They are either over-suave and
polite, as if they condescended to remember that you are elderly and
that it is their duty to make you forget it, or else they are pert and
shallow and disgust you with their egotism. But this young man looked
sensible and business-like, and I took to him at once, though what
connection he could have with this affair I could not imagine.
His first words, however, settled all questions as to his personality:
He was the order clerk at Altman's.
As he acknowledged this, I seemed to have some faint premonition of what
was coming. Perhaps I had not been without some vague idea of the truth
ever since I had put my mind to work on this matter; perhaps my wits
only received their real spur then; but certainly I knew what he was
going to say as soon as he opened his lips, which gave me quite a good
opinion of myself, whether rightfully or not, I leave you to judge.
His evidence was short, but very much to the point. On the seventeenth
of September, as could be verified by the books, the firm had received
an order for a woman's complete outfit, to be sent, C.O.D., to Mrs.
James Pope at the Hotel D----, on Broadway. Sizes and measures and some
particulars were stated, and as the order bore the words _In haste_
underlined upon it, several clerks had assisted him in filling this
order, which when filled had been sent by special messenger to the place
designated.
Had he this order with him?
He had.
And could he identify the articles sent to fill it?
He could.
At which the Coroner motioned to an officer and a pile of clothing was
brought forward from some mysterious corner and laid before the witness.
Immediately expectation rose to a high pitch, for every one recognized,
or thought he did, the apparel which had been taken from the victim.
The young man, who was of the alert, nervous type, took up the articles
one by one and examined them closely.
As he did so, the whole assembled crowd surged forward and
lightning-like glances from a hundred eyes followed his every movement
and expression.
"Are they the same?" inquired the Coroner.
The witness did not hesitate. With one quick glance at the blue serge
dress, black cape, and battered hat, he answered in a firm tone:
"They are."
And a clue was given at last to the dreadful mystery absorbing us.
The deep-drawn sigh which swept through the room testified to the
universal satisfaction; then our attention became fixed again, for the
Coroner, pointing to the undergarments accompanying the articles already
mentioned, demanded if they had been included in the order.
There was as little hesitation in the reply given to this question as to
the former. He recognized each piece as having come from his
establishment. "You will note," said he, "that they have never been
washed, and that the pencil marks are still on them."
"Very good," observed the Coroner, "and you will note that one article
there is torn down the back. Was it in that condition when sent?"
"It was not, sir."
"All were in perfect order?"
"Most assuredly, sir."
"Very good, again. The jury will take cognizance of this fact, which may
be useful to them in their future conclusions. And now, Mr. Callahan, do
you notice anything lacking here from the list of articles forwarded by
you?"
"No, sir."
"Yet there is one very necessary adjunct to a woman's outfit which is
not to be found here."
"Yes, sir, the shoes; but I am not surprised at that. We sent shoes, but
they were not satisfactory, and they were returned."
"Ah, I see. Officer, show the witness the shoes that were taken from the
deceased."
This was done, and when Mr. Callahan had examined them, the Coroner
inquired if they came from his store. He replied no.
Whereupon they were held up to the jury, and attention called to the
fact that, while rather new than old, they gave signs of having been
worn more than once; which was not true of anything else taken from the
victim.
This matter settled, the Coroner proceeded with his questions.
"Who carried the articles ordered, to the address given?"
"A man in our employ, named Clapp."
"Did he bring back the amount of the bill?"
"Yes, sir; less the five dollars charged for the shoes."
"What was the amount, may I ask?"
"Here is our cash-book, sir. The amount received from Mrs. James Pope,
Hotel D----, on the seventeenth of September, is, as you see,
seventy-five dollars and fifty-eight cents."
"Let the jury see the book; also the order."
They were both handed to the jury, and if ever I wished myself in any
one's shoes, save my own very substantial ones, it was at that moment. I
did so want a peep at that order.
It seemed to interest the jury also, for their heads drew together very
eagerly over it, and some whispers and a few knowing looks passed
between them. Finally one of them spoke:
"It is written in a very odd hand. Do you call this a woman's writing or
a man's?"
"I have no opinion to give on the subject," rejoined the witness. "It is
intelligible writing, and that is all that comes within my province."
The twelve men shifted on their seats and surveyed the Coroner eagerly.
Why did he not proceed? Evidently he was not quick enough to suit them.
"Have you any further questions for this witness?" asked that gentleman
after a short delay.
Their nervousness increased, but no one ventured to follow the Coroner's
suggestion. A poor lot, I call them, a very poor lot! I would have found
plenty of questions to put to him.
I expected to see the man Clapp called next, but I was disappointed in
this. The name uttered was Henshaw, and the person who rose in answer to
it was a tall, burly man with a shock of curly black hair. He was the
clerk of the Hotel D----, and we all forgot Clapp in our eagerness to
hear what this man had to say.
His testimony amounted to this:
That a person by the name of Pope was registered on his books. That she
came to his house on the seventeenth of September, some time near noon.
That she was not alone; that a person she called her husband accompanied
her, and that they had been given a room, at her request, on the second
floor overlooking Broadway.
"Did you see the husband? Was it his handwriting we see in your
register?"
"No, sir. He came into the office, but he did not approach the desk. It
was she who registered for them both, and who did all the business in
fact. I thought it queer, but took it for granted he was ill, for he
held his head very much down, and acted as if he felt disturbed or
anxious."
"Did you notice him closely? Would you be able to identify him on
sight?"
"No, sir, I should not. He looked like a hundred other men I see every
day: medium in height and build, with brown hair and brown moustache.
Not noticeable in any way, sir, except for his hang-dog air and evident
desire not to be noticed."
"But you saw him later?"
"No, sir. After he went to his room he stayed there, and no one saw him.
I did not even see him when he left the house. His wife paid the bill
and he did not come into the office."
"But you saw her well; you would know her again?"
"Perhaps, sir; but I doubt it. She wore a thick veil when she came in,
and though I might remember her voice, I have no recollection of her
features for I did not see them."
"You can give a description of her dress, though; surely you must have
looked long enough at a woman who wrote her own and her husband's name
in your register, for you to remember her clothes."