Mr. Barnes returned to his home that night feeling well satisfied with
his day's work. With little real knowledge he had started out in the
morning, and within ten hours he had dipped deeply into the heart of the
mystery. Yet he felt somewhat like a man who has succeeded in working
his way into the thickest part of a forest, with no certainty as to
where he might emerge again, or how. Moreover, though he had seemingly
accomplished so much during the first day, he seemed destined to make
little headway for many days thereafter. On the second day of his
investigation he ascertained one fact which was more misleading than
helpful. It will be recalled that Mark Quadrant had told him that his
brother had a scar on the sole of his foot made by cutting himself
whilst in swimming. Mr. Barnes went to the Morgue early, and examined
both feet most carefully. There was no such scar, nor was it possible
that there ever could have been. The feet were absolutely unmarred.
Could it be possible that, in spite of the apparently convincing proof
that this body had been correctly identified, nevertheless a mistake had
been made?
This question puzzled the detective mightily, and he longed impatiently
for an opportunity to talk with one of the family, especially with the
elder brother, Amos. Delay, however, seemed unavoidable. The police
authorities, having finally accepted the identification, delivered the
body to the Quadrants, and a second funeral occurred. Thus two more days
elapsed before Mr. Barnes felt at liberty to intrude, especially as it
was not known that he had been regularly retained by Mrs. Quadrant.
Meanwhile nothing was heard from Burrows, who had left the city, and, as
a further annoyance, Mr. Barnes was unable to catch Mr. Mitchel at home
though he called three times. Failing to meet that gentleman, and
chafing at his enforced inactivity, the detective finally concluded to
visit the cemetery in the hope of learning what had occurred when Mr.
Mitchel had inspected the ashes. Again, however, was he doomed to
disappointment. His request to be allowed to examine the contents of the
urn was refused, strict orders to that effect having been imposed by the
Chief of the regular detective force.
"You see," explained the superintendent, "we could not even let you look
into the urn upon the order of one of the family, because they have
claimed the body at the Morgue, and so they have no claim on these
ashes. If a body was burned that day, then there is a body yet to be
accounted for, and the authorities must guard the ashes as their only
chance to make out a case. Of course they can't identify ashes, but the
expert chemists claim they can tell whether a human body or only an
empty coffin was put into the furnace."
"And are the experts making such an analysis?" asked Mr. Barnes.
"Yes. The Chief himself came here with two of them, the day before
yesterday. They emptied out the ashes onto a clean marble slab, and
looked all through the pile. Then they put some in two bottles, and
sealed the bottles, and then put the balance back in the urn and sealed
that also. So, you see, there isn't any way for me to let you look into
that urn."
"No, of course not," admitted the detective, reluctantly. "Tell me, was
any one else present at this examination besides the Chief and the two
experts?"
"Yes. A gentleman they called Mitchel, I believe."
Mr. Barnes had expected this answer, yet it irritated him to hear it.
Mr. Mitchel had information which the detective would have given much to
share.
During the succeeding days he made numerous ineffectual efforts to have
an interview with Amos Quadrant, but repeatedly was told that he was
"Not at home." Mrs. Quadrant, too, had left town for a rest at one of
their suburban homes, and Mark Quadrant had gone with her. The city
house, with its closed shutters, seemed as silent as the grave, and the
secret of what had occurred within those walls seemed almost hopelessly
buried.
"What a pity," thought the detective, "that walls do not have tongues as
well as ears."
A week later Mr. Barnes was more fortunate. He called at the Quadrant
mansion, expecting to once more hear the servant say coldly, "Not at
home," in answer to his inquiry for Mr. Quadrant, when, to his surprise
and pleasure, Mr. Quadrant himself stepped out of the house as he
approached it. The detective went up to him boldly, and said:
"Mr. Quadrant, I must have a few words with you."
"Must?" said Mr. Quadrant with an angry inflection. "I think not. Move
out of my way, and let me pass."
"Not until you have given me an interview," said Mr. Barnes firmly,
without moving.
"You are impertinent, sir. If you interfere with me further, I will have
you arrested," said Mr. Quadrant, now thoroughly aroused.
"If you call a policeman," said Mr. Barnes, calmly, "I will have you
arrested."
"And upon what charge, pray?" said Mr. Quadrant, contemptuously.
"I will accuse you of instigating the removal of your brother's body
from the coffin."
"You are mad."
"There are others who hold this view, so it would be wise for you to
move carefully in this matter."
"Would you object to telling me what others share your extraordinary
opinion?"
"I did not say that it is my opinion. More than that, I will say that it
is not my opinion, not at present at all events. But it is the view
which is receiving close attention at police headquarters."
"Are you one of the detectives?"
"I am a detective, but not connected with the city force."
"Then by what right do you intrude yourself into this affair?"
Mr. Barnes knew that he must play his best card now, to gain his point
with this man. He watched him closely as he answered:
"I am employed by Mrs. Quadrant."
There was an unmistakable start. Amos Quadrant was much disturbed to
hear that his sister-in-law had hired a detective, and curiously enough
he made no effort to hide his feelings. With some show of emotion he
said in a low voice:
"In that case, perhaps, we should better have a talk together. Come in."
With these words he led the way into the house, and invited the
detective into the same room wherein he had talked with Mark Quadrant.
When they had found seats, Mr. Quadrant opened the conversation
immediately.
"What is your name?" he asked.
"John Barnes," was the reply.
"Barnes? I have heard of you. Well, Mr. Barnes, let me be very frank
with you. Above all things it has been my wish that this supposed
mystery should not be cleared up. To me it is a matter of no consequence
who did this thing, or why it was done. Indeed, what suspicions have
crossed my mind make me the more anxious not to know the truth. Feeling
thus, I should have done all in my power to hinder the work of the
regular police. When you tell me that my sister-in-law has engaged your
services, you take me so by surprise that I am compelled to think a bit
in order to determine what course to pursue. You can readily understand
that my position is a delicate and embarrassing one."
"I understand that thoroughly, and you have my sympathy, Mr. Quadrant."
"You may mean that well, but I do not thank you," said Mr. Quadrant,
coldly. "I want no man's sympathy. This is purely an impersonal
interview, and I prefer to have that distinctly prominent in our minds
throughout this conversation. Let there be no misunderstanding and no
false pretenses. You are a detective bent upon discovering the author of
certain singular occurrences. I am a man upon whom suspicion has
alighted; and, moreover, guilty or innocent, I desire to prevent you
from accomplishing your purpose. I do not wish the truth to be known. Do
we understand one another?"
"Perfectly," said Mr. Barnes, astonished by the man's manner and
admiring his perfect self-control and his bold conduct.
"Then we may proceed," said Mr. Quadrant. "Do you wish to ask me
questions, or will you reply to one or two from me?"
"I will answer yours first, if you will reply to mine afterwards."
"I make no bargains. I will answer, but I do not promise to tell you
anything unless it pleases me to do so. You have the same privilege.
First, then, tell me how it happened that Mrs. Quadrant engaged you in
this case."
"I called here, attracted merely by the extraordinary features of this
case, and Mrs. Quadrant granted me a short interview, at the end of
which she offered to place the matter in my hands as her
representative."
"Ah! Then she did not of her own thought send for you?"
"No."
"You told me that the regular detectives are considering the theory that
I instigated this affair. As you used the word instigated, it should
follow that some other person, an accomplice, is suspected likewise. Is
that the idea?"
"That is one theory."
"And who, pray, is my alleged accomplice?"
"That I cannot tell you without betraying confidence."
"Very good. Next you declared that you yourself do not share this view.
Will you tell me on what grounds you exculpate me?"
"With pleasure. The assumed reason for this act of removing your brother
from his coffin was to prevent the cremation. Now it was yourself who
wished to have the body incinerated."
"You are mistaken. I did not wish it. On the contrary, I most earnestly
wished that there should be no cremation. You see I incriminate myself."
He smiled painfully, and a dejected expression crossed his face. For an
instant he looked like a man long tired of carrying some burden, then
quickly he recovered his composure.
"You astonish me," said Mr. Barnes. "I was told by Mr. Mark that you
insisted upon carrying out your brother's wish in this matter of
disposing of his body."
"My brother told you that? Well, it is true. He and I quarrelled about
it. He wished to have a regular burial, contrary to our brother's
oft-repeated injunction. I opposed him, and, being the elder, I assumed
the responsibility, and gave the orders."
"But you have admitted that you did not wish this?"
"Do we always have our wishes gratified in this world?"
The detective, watching the man's face closely, again noted that
expression of weariness cross his features, and an instinctive feeling
of pity was aroused. Once more the skein became more entangled. His own
suspicion against Mark Quadrant rested upon the supposition that the act
was committed with the intent of making capital out of it with the
widow, and was based upon the theory that Amos wished to have his
brother incinerated. If now it should transpire that after all it was
Amos who managed the affair, his motive was a higher one, for, while
appearing to carry out the wishes of his deceased brother, he must have
aimed to gratify the widow, without admitting her to the knowledge that
his hand had gained her purpose. This was a higher, nobler love. Was
Amos Quadrant of this noble mould? The question crossing the detective's
mind met a startling answer which prompted Mr. Barnes to ask suddenly:
"Is it true that, speaking of this cremation, you said: 'Let him burn;
he'll burn in hell anyway'?"
Amos Quadrant flushed deeply, and his face grew stern as he answered:
"I presume you have witnesses who heard the words, therefore it would be
futile to deny it. It was a brutal remark, but I made it. I was
exasperated by something which Mark had said, and replied in anger."
"It is a sound doctrine, Mr. Quadrant," said the detective, "that words
spoken in anger often more truly represent the speaker's feelings than
what he says when his tongue is bridled."
"Well?"
"If we take this view, then it is apparent that you did not hold a very
high regard for your brother."
"That is quite true. Why should I?"
"He was your brother."
"And because of the accident of birth, I was bound to love him? A
popular fallacy, Mr. Barnes. He was equally bound, then, to love me, but
he did not. Indeed he wronged me most grievously."
"By marrying the woman you loved?"
Mr. Barnes felt ashamed of his question, as a surgeon often must be
sorry to insert the scalpel. To his surprise it elicited no retort. Mr.
Quadrant's reply was calmly spoken. All he said was:
"Yes, he did that."
"Did she know?" ventured the detective hesitatingly.
"No, I think not--I hope not."
There was a painful pause. Mr. Quadrant looked down at the floor, while
Mr. Barnes watched him, trying to decide whether the man were acting a
part with intent to deceive, as he had announced that he would not
hesitate to do; or whether he were telling the truth, in which case the
nobility of his character was brought more into perspective.
"Are you sure," said Mr. Barnes after a pause, "that the body taken from
the river was that of your brother Rufus?"
"Why do you ask that?" said Mr. Quadrant, on the defensive at once. "Can
there be any doubt?"
"Before I reply, let me ask you another question. Did your brother Rufus
have a scar on the sole of his foot?"
The other man started perceptibly, and paused some time before
answering. Then he asked:
"What makes you think so?"
"Mr. Mark Quadrant told me that his brother had such a scar, caused by
gashing his foot while in swimming."
"Ah, that is your source of information. Well, when Mark told you that
his brother had met with such an accident, he told you the truth."
"But did the accident leave a scar?" Mr. Barnes thought he detected a
carefully worded evasive answer.
"Yes, the cut left a bad scar; one easily noticed."
"In that case I can reply to your question. If, as you both say, your
brother had a scar on the sole of his foot, then there exists
considerable doubt as to the identification of the body which was at the
Morgue, the body which you have both accepted and buried as being that
of your relative. Mr. Quadrant, there was no scar on that body."
"Odd, isn't it?" said Mr. Quadrant, without any sign of surprise.
"I should say it is very odd. How do you suppose it can be explained?"
"I do not know, and, as I have told you before, I do not care. Quite the
reverse; the less you comprehend this case the better pleased I shall
be."
"Mr. Quadrant," said Mr. Barnes, a little nettled, "since you so frankly
admit that you wish me to fail, why should I not believe that you are
telling me a falsehood when you state that your brother told me the
truth?"
"There is no reason that I care to advance," said Mr. Quadrant, "why you
should believe me, but if you do not, you will go astray. I repeat, what
my brother told you is true."
It seemed to the detective that in all his varied experience he had
never met with circumstances so exasperatingly intricate. Here was an
identification for many reasons the most reliable that he had known, and
now there appeared to be a flaw of such a nature that it could not be
set aside. If the body was that of Mr. Quadrant, then both these men
had lied. If they told the truth, then, in spite of science, the
doctors, and the family, the identification had been false. In that case
Rufus Quadrant had been cremated after all, and this would account for
the statement in Mr. Mitchel's note that a human body had been
incinerated. Could it be that these two brothers were jointly implicated
in a murder, and had pretended to recognize the body at the Morgue in
order to have it buried and to cover up their crime? It seemed
incredible. Besides, the coincidence of the external and internal
diseases was too great.
"I would like to ask you a few questions in relation to the occurrences
on the day and evening preceding the funeral," said Mr. Barnes, pursuing
the conversation, hoping to catch from the answers some clue that might
aid him.
"Which funeral?" said Mr. Quadrant.
"The first. I have been told that you and your brother were present when
the widow last viewed the face of her husband, and that at that time,
about five o'clock, you jointly agreed that the coffin should not be
opened again. Is this true?"
"Accurate in every detail."
"Was the coffin closed at once? That is, before you left the room?"
"The lower part of the coffin-top was, of course, in place and screwed
fast when we entered the room. The upper part, exposing the face, was
open. It was this that was closed in my presence."
"I would like to get the facts here very accurately, if you are willing.
You say, closed in your presence. Do you mean merely covered, or was the
top screwed fast before you went out of the room, and, if so, by whom?"
"Mark took our sister away, but Dr. Mortimer and myself remained until
the screws were put in. Mr. Berial himself did that."
"Did you observe that the screws were odd? Different from common
screws?"
Mr. Barnes hoped that the other man would betray something at this
point, but he answered quite composedly:
"I think I did at the time, but I could not describe them to you now. I
half remember that Mr. Berial made some such comment as 'No one can get
these out again without my permission.'"
"Ah! He said that, did he? Yet some one must have gotten those screws
out, for, if your identification was correct, your brother's body was
taken out of that casket after the undertaker had put in those screws,
which he said could not be removed without his permission. How do you
suppose that was accomplished?"
"How should I know, Mr. Barnes, unless, indeed, I did it myself, or
instigated or connived at the doing? In either case, do you suppose I
would give you any information on such a point?"
"Did your brother Rufus have any rings on his fingers when placed in the
coffin?" asked Mr. Barnes, swiftly changing the subject.
"Yes--three: a diamond, a ruby, and a ring bearing his initial set in
diamonds."
"These rings were not on the body at the Morgue."
"Neither was that scar," said Mr. Quadrant, with a suppressed laugh.
"But this is different," said Mr. Barnes. "I did not find the scar, but
I have found the rings."
"Very clever of you, I am sure. But what does that prove?"
"It proves that your brother's body was taken from the coffin before the
coffin was placed in the crematory furnace."
"Illogical and inaccurate," said Mr. Quadrant. "You prove by the
recovery of the rings, merely that the rings were taken from the
coffin."
"Or, from the body after it was taken out," interjected Mr. Barnes.
"In either case it is of no consequence. You have rooted up a theft,
that is all. Catch the thief and jail him, if you like. I care nothing
about that. It is the affair of my brother's death and burial that I
wish to see dropped by the inquisitive public."
"Yes, but suppose I tell you that the theory is that the man who stole
the rings was your accomplice in the main matter? Don't you see that
when we catch him, he is apt to tell all that he knows?"
"When you catch him? Then you have not caught him yet. For so much I am
grateful." He did not seem to care how incriminating his words might
sound.
"One thing more, Mr. Quadrant. I understand that you retired at about
ten o'clock on that night--the night prior to the first funeral, I mean.
You left your brother Mark down here?"
"Yes."
"Later you came downstairs again."
"You seem to be well posted as to my movements."
"Not so well as I wish to be. Will you tell me why you came down?"
"I have not admitted that I came downstairs."
"You were seen in the hall very late at night, or early in the morning.
You took the lamp out of the room where the casket was, and came in here
and looked at your brother, who was asleep. Then you returned the lamp
and went upstairs. Do you admit now that you had just come downstairs?"
"I admit nothing. But to show you how little you can prove, suppose I
ask you how you know that I had just come downstairs? Why may it not be
that I had been out of the house, and had just come in again when your
informant saw me?"
"Quite true. You might have left the house. Perhaps it was then that the
body was taken away?"
"If it was taken away, that was certainly as good a time as any."
"What time?"
"Oh, let us say between twelve and two. Very few people would be about
the street at that hour, and a wagon stopping before a door would
attract very little attention. Especially if it were an undertaker's
wagon."
"An undertaker's wagon?" exclaimed Mr. Barnes, as this suggested a new
possibility.
"Why, yes. If, as you say, there was an accomplice in this case, the
fellow who stole the rings, you know, he must have been one of the
undertaker's men. If so, he would use their wagon, would he not?"
"I think he would," said Mr. Barnes sharply. "I thank you for the point.
And now I will leave you."