Author: Carolyn Wells
Category: Humorous
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CHAPTER IV
The Busy Police
But even the astonishing disclosure of the scrawled statement did notcause Bob Moore to lose his head. Excited and startled though he was, hewas also alertly conscious that he must conduct himself with care. Hehad a vague fear that he might be connected with the case and weirdlyenough he had a secret fear that he might not!
Already in fancy he saw himself doing marvelously clever detective workthat should result in getting the criminal of whom the dying efforts ofthe victim strove to tell him. But he must be careful not to put himselfforward, not to overstep his privileges, and, above all, not to seem tooeager to help in the search for the murderer, for he felt sure hisoffers of assistance would be deemed presumptuous.
Doctor Pagett came running down the stairs, knotting his necktie as hedescended.
"Binney!" he exclaimed; "the Englishman who makes Buns. What's thispaper?"
"I haven't touched it, Doctor; I haven't touched anything. You can seefor yourself what the paper says."
"Women did this," said the doctor, his eyes fairly bulging; "what--whatdoes it mean? Where were you?"
"Up at the tenth floor, taking Mr Vail up. He came in,--there was noBinney about then!--and I took him up in the elevator to his floor, andwhen I came down, Mr Binney was there just as you see him now,--only, hewas still alive."
"Alive!"
"Yes, sir,--just dying. He mumbled a word or two----"
"What did he say?"
"He said--'Get--get----' but he couldn't say who. That's all,--then hedrew a long breath and died."
"You came straight to me?"
"Yes, sir. I flew! I thought it my duty to hesitate that moment, in casehe might get out the name of the murderer."
"I think you did all right, Moore. He's surely dead,--and, just assurely, he was murdered. And by women! But how is it possible? However,that's not my province. We must get the police, and also, notify hispeople. He lived in the Prall apartment, didn't he?"
"No; he was there a lot; they're his relatives, I believe, but he hadhis own apartment, a small one on the eighth floor. Miss Prall, she's onthe eighth, too, shall I call her up?"
"Oh, that's pretty awful. Call the nephew, young Bates, first."
"Shall I telephone or go up there----?"
"Go up--no, telephone,--somebody might come in, and want you."
"Hello," Richard Bates responded to Moore's telephone call.
"Mr. Bates?"
"Yes."
"Will you come downstairs, sir, right away? There's been a--an accident.Mr. Binney,--that is, Sir Binney, you know,--he's--he's----"
"Well, he's what?"
"He's--oh, come down, sir, _please_!"
Moore hung up his receiver, for his nerve suddenly deserted him when itcame to telling the dreadful fact of the tragedy.
In a few moments the elevator bell sounded and Moore went up to bringBates down.
"What is it?" Bates asked. "Is my uncle--er,--lit up?"
"Oh, no, sir," and Bob Moore looked shocked, "it isn't that, at all.It's worse than that,--it's an accident."
"What sort of an accident? Taxi smash-up? Any kind of a stroke?"
But by this time they were down to the street floor, and the two menstepped out of the car.
Seeing the doctor, who was still bending over the inert figure on thefloor, Bates hurried along the onyx lobby till he reached the scene, andcould see, without being told, what had happened.
A moment he gazed in silence at his uncle's face, and then said,excitedly, "Who did this? How was he killed? Why should anybody----"
Silently the doctor pointed to the paper on the floor at the dead man'sside.
Bates read it, and looked up wonderingly.
"Don't touch it," warned the physician as the young man stretched outhis hand. "It's a clew,--the police must take charge of it."
"The police! Oh, yes,--of course,--it's a murder, isn't it?"
"You bet it's a murder!" exclaimed Moore. "And done by women! Oh, gee!what a case it will be!"
"Hush up!" Bates cried, angrily. "Don't talk like that in the presenceof the dead! We must send for an undertaker."
"Not yet," demurred Doctor Pagett. "In a case like this, the police mustbe notified first of all."
"Not first of all," said Bates, slowly, as his mind began to work; "wemust tell my aunt, Miss Prall."
"Yes, of course, but the police must be sent for."
"Sure," put in Bob Moore, who was gaining confidence in his ownimportance, "I must get this matter hushed up before people begin to getaround. Lucky it happened in the night! It's none too good anadvertisement for the house!"
"I think I'll go up and tell my aunt myself," said Bates, thoughtfully."You stay here by--by the body, Doctor. And, I say,--what--how was hekilled?"
"Stabbed," said the doctor, shortly.
"What with?"
"I don't know,--except that it was with a sharp blade of some sort.There's no weapon in sight."
"No weapon! How queer!"
"Queer or not, I can't find any. It's a pretty strange affair, to mymind. Yes, I'll stay here, you go and tell your aunt's people,and,--Moore, you come right back after you take Mr Bates up."
In silence the return trip was made in the elevator, for Bates wasthinking how he should break the news to the two excitable womenupstairs, and Bob Moore's thoughts were in such a riot, that he wastrying hard to straighten them out.
In front of Miss Prall's bedroom door, her nephew hesitated for sometime before knocking. Not only was his courage weak but his brain wasreceiving so many sudden jolts that he could scarcely control his voice.Why, now, he was his uncle's heir. Unless he had already changed thatwill! Had he?
At last, with a gentle knock, repeated more loudly, and finally with afusillade of raps, he succeeded in rousing Miss Prall, who demanded,with asperity, "Who's there?"
"Me; Rick. Open the door, please."
"What's the matter? You sick?" his aunt exclaimed, as she unlocked herdoor.
"No; now, listen, Aunt Letitia, and don't faint--for anything. UncleBinney is--has been--why, somebody killed him!"
"Killed him! Is he dead?"
"Yes, ma'am"; both were unaware of the absurdity of the words, "he'sdownstairs,--in the lobby,--and he's been stabbed."
Richard's teeth were chattering from the tension of his nerves, and thehorror of the situation, but Miss Prall's nerves were strong ones, andshe said, "I'll dress and go right down. And I'll tell Eliza,--youneedn't. Go in the living-room and wait for me there."
Rather relieved at not being sent back downstairs and decidedly willingto let his aunt break the news to Miss Gurney, Bates went to his ownroom and added some finishing touches to the hasty toilet he had made.Then he awaited his aunt, as directed, and in an incredibly short timeshe appeared, all dressed and impatient to go downstairs.
"We won't wait for Eliza," she said; "come along. Oh, no, wait aminute!" She returned to her bedroom, and shortly reappeared.
Her vigorous push of the elevator button brought Moore quickly, and hetook them down.
Miss Prall strode rapidly along the lobby and spoke brusquely to thedoctor.
"What are you doing? Why do you touch him before the police arrive?"
"Good Lord, how you startled me!" exclaimed Doctor Pagett, who in hisabsorption had not heard her approach. "I have a perfect right toexamine the body, ma'am," he went on indignantly. "Do you suppose Idon't know my business?"
"I've always heard no one must touch a murdered man until----"
"Then how are we to know it is a murder?" he countered, looking at herkeenly. "Will you read that paper, Miss Prall? Don't touch it!"
"Women did this," she read, aloud. "Well, I'm not surprised. If ever aman was mixed up with women,--of all sorts, it was Sir Herbert! But whatwomen did it? Where are they?"
She looked about, as if expecting to see the criminals cowering in theshadows or behind the great columns of the lobby.
"They have disappeared,--
not an uncommon procedure," returned thedoctor, dryly. "And they have taken with them the weapon with which thecrime was committed, thus removing a most important clue! Have you anysuspicion--in any direction?"
Doctor Pagett shot this query at her with such sharp suddenness thatMiss Prall almost jumped.
"I!" she exclaimed loudly. "How could I know anything about this man orhis women? He's nothing to me!"
"He is your nephew's uncle."
"Well, that makes him no kin of mine, does it? Don't you dare mix me upin this thing!"
"Nobody's mixing you up in it, ma'am," and, indifferently, the physicianreturned his attention to the dead man, and became engrossed in studyingthe writing on the paper.
And then, as three men from Police Headquarters appeared at the frontend of the long lobby, Eliza Gurney stepped from the elevator at theother end. Apparently she was holding herself well in hand, for, thoughher face was white and drawn with fear, her firm set lips and clenchedhands betokened a resolve not to give way to nerves in any fashion.
"Let me see him," she said, in steady tones.
"Who are you, madam?" said Officer Kelsey, resenting her determined pushforward.
"I'm Miss Gurney, the companion of Miss Prall," and the air with whichshe made the announcement would have fitted a grand duchess.
Impressed, the policeman made way for her, and then continued hisquestioning.
"Who's in command here?" he said. "Who's nearest of kin?"
At the first question, Miss Prall stepped forward, but at the second,she fell back in favor of Richard Bates.
"I am," Bates said, quietly. "He is my uncle, Sir Herbert Binney."
Further statistics were ascertained and then the police began actualinvestigation. The detective was the smallest and least conspicuous manof the three, and his unassuming air and somewhat stupid-looking facewould have carried a conviction of his utter incompetency, save for hisalert, darting black eyes, that seemed to look in several directions atonce, so rapidly did they roll about.
Corson was his name, and he asked questions so quickly and socontinuously that he scarce waited for answers.
"Where had he been?" he flung out. "Who saw him come in? Who was on doorduty? What's _your_ name? Moore? Well, did you admit this man?"
"No," said Bob Moore, "I was up in the elevator taking one of thetenants to his floor. There's only me on, late at night."
But Corson seemed unheeding. Already he had turned to Miss Prall.
"Does this man live with you? Did he, I mean. Where did he set out forwhen he left home? What time did he go?"
"Now you look here!" said Miss Letitia, angrily. "I can't answerforty-seven questions at once! Nor other people can't, either. You talkmore slowly, sir, and more rationally."
But Corson heeded her not at all. He turned to Bates.
"Your uncle, eh? You his heir?"
"Yes, he is!" Miss Prall answered for him, and Corson's roving glancetook her in and returned to Bates. "Where were you when he was killed?"
"In bed," replied Richard, shortly.
"Oh; all right. Now, I'll take charge of this paper, for there's littledoubt but it's mighty important." He folded it carefully into hispocket-book. "Was this gentleman--er, addicted to ladies' society?"
"That he was," Moore spoke up, involuntarily.
"I didn't ask you," said Corson. "I asked Mr. Bates."
"Why, yes," said Richard, "he did like the society of ladies,--but mostmen do."
"We're not discussing the matter, Mr. Bates," and for once Corson lookedsteadily at him, "we're just looking into it. And--" he paused,impressively, "and these immediate, right-away-quick questions arepretty good first aid, as a rule."
"Go ahead, then," and Richard folded his arms, in a resigned manner.
Doctor Pagett motioned the two ladies to take seats on the red velvetsofa and seated himself also.
"There's no doubt," Corson went on, "that this writing is the trueexplanation. Dying men don't leave anything but truth as a last message.It seems pretty steep to believe that women managed this affair, butthat's the very reason he made such a desperate effort to let it beknown."
"And he tried to tell me who it was," broke in Moore, irrepressibly.
"He did?" and Corson's eyes flashed toward the speaker. "What did hesay? Did he mention any names? How did you come to be listening? Wereyou here when----"
Miss Prall interrupted. "If you'd listen a minute, and not talk all thetime, you might learn something, Mister Detective!"
"Thank you, ma'am. Answer me, Moore. Just what did this man say after hewas hurt,--that you heard?"
"He said 'Get--get--' and that was all, except that he tried hard to saya name,--or it seemed like that,--and he said something like somethingbeginning with a J."
"Well, you're guarded in your statements. But I understand. I suppose hewas struggling for breath, really----"
"He could just speak and that's all. He kept saying 'J--J--' and then hegave a gasp and died."
"How do you know he died?"
"Why, he sort of relaxed--limp like,--and stopped trying to speak."
"And he seemed to be after some name beginning with J,--say James orJohn."
"That's the way it sounded."
"All right. Now, how long had you been absent from this place when youreturned and found him?"
"Just long enough to take Mr Vail up to his floor,--the tenth."
"Vail? Who's he?"
"One of our tenants. He lives on the tenth floor. He came in and I tookhim up----"
"And came right down again?"
"Yes; and when I got down, I saw the--the heap in the lobby."
"You knew at once who it was?"
"Not who it was, but I saw it was a man, evidently knocked down, orfallen in a fit,--as I thought. So I ran to see, and--I've told you therest."
"What time was all this?"
"It was twenty minutes after two."
"When you found him?"
"When I found him."
"How do you know so certainly?"
"I'm--I'm fond of detective work, and I thought there'd be some in thismatter, and so, I did everything I could think of to help along."
"Oho, fond of detective work, are you? What have you done in that line?"
"Nothing! I didn't mean practically. But, well, theoretically. You see,I've read a great many detective stories----"
"Yes; you were reading one this evening? Where is it? Let me see it."
Slightly embarrassed at Corson's manner, Bob got the book and passed itover.
"'Murder Will Out.' H'm----Say, Mr. Bates, do you know where your unclespent the evening?"
"I do not." Richard was not at all pleased with Corson's way, and he hadturned sullen.
"No idea? Have you, Miss Prall?"
"I've an idea, but I suppose you want only definite statements. Such Icannot give."
"Well, well, what _do_ you know about it? Remember, evasion or refusalto answer is by no means a point in your favor."
"What! Are you implying there's anything in my disfavor? Am I beingquestioned as a possible suspect?"
"Lord, no, madam! Don't jump at conclusions."
"She didn't!" put in Eliza Gurney. "Seems to me you're an addlepatedyoung fellow for a detective."
"Yes? Does any one present know where Mr Binney--is that thename?--spent this evening? Or any way to learn of his whereabouts?"
"He went out about before I came on," volunteered Moore. "The daydoorman will know, or the elevator girl who brought him down."
"All right. That's keep. Now, I want to get at the actual facts of hisdiscovery here. It would seem, Moore, that you're the only one who cangive any information in that respect."
"I've already told you all I know."
"And this Mr Vail you took upstairs,--he wouldn't know anything?"
"I can't answer for that, but when Mr Vail came in, and I took him up inthe elevator, there wasn't any sign of Sir Herbert Binney about, dead oralive!"
"No;
that's so. Well, then, when you came down, and found the woundedman, you went at once for the doctor?"
"Almost at once. I paused a moment, because he was trying so hard tospeak, and I reasoned that if he succeeded it would be of utmostimportance that some one should hear his words."
"H'm--yes, that's so. Well, and then, he gave over trying and died, yousay; and then?"
"Then I ran up at once to Doctor Pagett's apartment, it is only oneflight up, and he came down as soon as he could."
"Go on from there, Doctor."
"I came right down, as soon as I could hurry on some clothes. I foundSir Binney dead, and can asseverate that he had been dead but a fewmoments."
"He was stabbed?"
"Yes, and the weapon used was removed and must have been taken away bythe murderer, as it cannot be found."
"H'm there are other explanations. But never mind that. The wound wassuch as to cause almost instantaneous death?"
"Apparently it _did_ do so. Death was, of course, hastened by theimmediate removal of the knife. Had that remained in the wound, thevictim would doubtless have lived long enough to make a clear dyingstatement."
"What was the weapon? Can you divine?"
"A sharp knife, dagger, or some such implement."
"A paper-cutter, say?"
"Not likely. Unless it was an unusually sharp one. The cut is so cleanlymade that it presupposes a very sharp blade."
"And your diagnosis of the killing corresponds in all points with thisnight porter's story?"
"So far as I can judge, there is no discrepancy in his narrative."
Dr Pagett was of the pompous school, and dearly loved to be in animportant role. But he was evidently a learned and skilled physician andhis words were spoken with a positive air that carried conviction.
"There is little more to be learned from viewing the scene," thedetective said, at last, after he had put a few more direct questions toBob Moore and had advised some with his companion policemen.
"Nope; might as well let in the undertakers," agreed Kelsey.
"Oh, do," urged Moore. "It's really imperative that we get all traces ofthe tragedy away before daylight. And it's almost four o'clock now!"
"Good gracious, so it is!" exclaimed Miss Prall. "Well, I suppose Ishall be consulted as to the funeral, at least! I seem to be of littleimportance here!"
"Don't talk like that, Aunt," urged Bates. "These inquiries arenecessary. The funeral services and all that, will of course be underour control."
"I should hope so," the lady sniffed; "I shall stay here until theundertaker arrives. I want some say in these matters."
"I think, Letitia," suggested Miss Gurney, "you'd better go to your roomand tidy up a bit. You dressed very hastily."
"What matter! Such things are unimportant in a crisis of this sort! Oh,I can't realize it! The awful circumstances almost make one forget thesadness of death! Poor Sir Herbert! He enjoyed life so much!"
Miss Prall buried her face in her handkerchief, and so was unable to seethe quizzical glances given her by Detective Corson.