The Luminous Face - Carolyn Wells 2 стр.

Phyllis Lindsay! cried Barry, involuntarily speaking the name.

The same, said Gleason, smiling; and as Im due there for dinner, Ill be toddling now to make myself fine for the event.

With a general beaming smile of good nature that included all the group, Gleason went away.

For a few moments no one spoke, and then Monroe began, As I was saying, there are only three motives for murder and I stick to that. But you were about to say, Pollard ?

I was about to say that you have omitted the most frequent and most impelling motive. It doesnt always result in the fatal stroke, but as a motive, it cant be beat.

Go on what is it?

Just plain dislike.

Oh, hate, said Monroe.

Not at all. Hate implies a reason, a grievance. But I mean an ineradicable, and unreasonable dislike why, simply a case of:

One Tom Brown wrote that, and its a bit of truth, all right!

One Martial said it before your friend Brown, informed Doctor Davenport. He wrote:

Which is, being translated for the benefit of you unlettered ones, I do not love thee, Sabidius, nor can I say why; this only can I say, I do not love thee. Theres a French version, also.

Never mind, Doc, Pollard interrupted, we dont want your erudition, but your opinion. You say you know psychology as well as physiology; will you agree that a strong motive for murder might be just that unreasonable dislike that distaste of seeing a certain person around?

No, not a strong motive, said Davenport, after a short pause for thought. A slight motive, perhaps, by which I mean a fleeting impulse.

No, persisted Pollard, an impelling a compelling motive. Why, theres Gleason now. I cant bear that man. Yet I scarcely know him. Ive met him but a few times had little or no personal conversation with him yet I dislike him. Not detest or hate or despise merely dislike him. And, some day Im going to kill him.

Going to kill all the folks you dislike? asked Barry, indifferently.

Maybe. If I dislike them enough. But that Gleason offends my taste. I cant stand him about. So, as I say, Im going to kill him. And I hold that the impulse that drives me to the deed is the strongest murder motive a man can have.

Dont talk rubbish, Manning, and young Monroe gave him a frightened glance, as if he thought Pollard in earnest.

It isnt altogether rubbish, said Doctor Davenport, as he rose to go, theres a grain of truth in Pollards contention. A rooted dislike of another is a bad thing to have in your system. Have it cut out, Pollard.

You didnt mean it, did you, Manning?

Monroe spoke diffidently, almost shyly, with a scared glance at Pollard.

The latter turned and looked at him with a smile. Then, glaring ferociously, he growled, Of course I did! And if you get yourself disliked, Ill kill you, too! Booh!

They all laughed at Monroes frightened jump, as Pollard Boohd into his face, and Doctor Davenport said, Look out, Pollard, dont scare our young friend into fits! And, remember, Monroe, Threatened men live long? Ive my car anybody want a lift anywhere?

Take me, will you? said Dean Monroe, and willingly enough, Doctor Davenport carried the younger man off in his car.

You oughtnt to do it, Pol, you know, Barry gently remonstrated. Poor little Monroe thinks youre a gory villain, and hell mull over your fool remarks till hes crazy more crazy than he is already.

Let him, said Pollard, smiling indifferently. I only spoke the truth as to that motive, I mean. Dont you want to kill that Gleason every time you see him?

You make him seem like a cat with nine or more lives! How can you kill a man every time you see him? It isnt done!

The two men left the Club together, and walked briskly down Fifth Avenue.

Going to the Lindsays to-night, of course? asked Barry, as they reached Forty-fifth Street, where he turned off.

Yes. You?

Yes. See you later, then. You gather that Gleason has annexed the pretty Phyllis?

Looks like it, doesnt it? I suppose the announcement will be made to-night at the dinner or the dance.

Suppose so. How I hate to see it that way. Im in love with that little beauty myself.

Who isnt? returned Pollard, smiling, and then Barry turned off in his own street, and Pollard went on down toward his home, a small hotel on West Fortieth.

Held up for a few moments by the great tide of traffic at Forty-second Street, he glanced at his wrist watch and found it was ten minutes after six. And then, a taxicab passed him, and in it he saw Phyllis Lindsay. She did not see him, however, so, the traffic signal being given, he went on his way.

CHAPTER II The Telephone Call

Every hour of every twenty-four is filled with amazing occurrences and startling episodes. Astonishing incidents and even more startling coincidences are happening every minute of every sixty minutes, but the fact that those most interested are unaware of these deeds is what makes the great cases of mystery.

Only an omniscient eye that could see all the activities of the few hours following the events just related could pierce the veil of doubt and uncertainty that overhung the ensuing tragedy.

The first human being to receive news of it was Miss Hester Jordan.

This capable and efficient young woman was the office nurse of Doctor Davenport, and her position was no sinecure.

Of a highly nervous temperament, she yet managed to preserve the proper calm and poise that nurses should always show, except when, at the end of a long, hard day, she became mentally and physically exhausted.

Though supposed to be off duty at six oclock, her relief was frequently late in arriving and in this instance had not yet put in an appearance, though it was half past the hour.

Wearily, Miss Jordan answered telephone calls, striving to keep her tired voice pleasant and amiable.

No, she would answer the anxious speakers, Doctor Davenport is not in. Yes, I expect him soon. Can you leave a message? Yes, I will tell him. He will surely be in by seven. No, he left no message for you. No, I dont know exactly where he is. Yes, I will let you know.

Replies of this sort, over and over, strained her nerves to their furthest tension, and when at six-forty the telephone bell jangled again she took the receiver from its hook with what was almost a jerk.

Hello, she said, unable to keep utter exasperation out of her voice.

But instead of a summons from some impatient patient, she heard a faint voice say, Come, Doctor oh, come quick Im Im done for shot

There were more incoherent words, but Nurse Jordan couldnt catch them.

Who are you? she cried, alert now. Who is speaking?

Gleason, came back the faint voice. Wash tn Square come cant you come quick

She could get no more. The voice ceased, and only blank silence met her frantic queries.

She hung up her receiver, and a sudden realization of the situation came to her. She seemed to see the scene somebody shot somebody telephoning that he was shot somebodys voice getting weaker and ceasing to sound at all the picture was too much for her tired brain, and she buried her face in her hands and sobbed hysterically from sheer nervous excitement.

Only for a moment did she give way. Nurse Jordans training and personality was not to be conquered by a sudden shock of any sort.

Pulling herself together, she set to work to find the doctor.

This meant telephoning to two or three places where she knew there was a chance of locating him.

And at the third call she found him at Mrs Ballards, and, though still shaken and quivering, she controlled her voice and told him distinctly of the tragic telephone call she had taken.

Gleason! cried the Doctor, Washington Square? What number?

But Nurse Jordan didnt know, and Doctor Davenport had to call up somebody to inquire.

He tried Mrs Lindsay, who was Gleasons sister, but her wire was busy and after an impatient moment, Davenport called Pollard, at his hotel.

Here, he cried, handing the receiver to a staring butler, take this and when the gentleman answers, ask him the address of Robert Gleason. Tell him Doctor Davenports inquiring.

He then returned to the prescription he had been writing, and gave it to Mrs Ballard, who was indignant at having her interview with her doctor intruded upon.

Ill call to-morrow, he soothed her; youll be better in the morning. Let fish alone, and stick to simple diet for a few days. Get that address, Jenkins?

Yes, sir, and the butler gave him a slip of paper.

Hm near Washington Square, not on it, he murmured, looking at the written number, and then he ran down the Ballard front steps, and jumping into his waiting car, gave his chauffeur Gleasons address.

Wonder whats up? he thought, as his car rolled down Fifth Avenue. Accident, I suppose. Jordan is always on edge this time of night. Have to take her excitement with a grain of salt.

But when he reached the house, and pushed the button that indicated McIlvaines apartment, there was no response from the closed street door.

He rang again, long and insistently, then, still getting no encouragement, he pushed another button.

The door gave a grudging grunt, and, unwillingly, as it seemed, moved slowly inward.

Doctor Davenport was half way up the first flight of stairs, when a womans head appeared through a doorway.

What do you want? she inquired, a little crisply.

Mr McIlvaines apartment.

Thats it, opposite, she returned, more affable as she caught sight of the good-looking man. Mr Gleasons in there now.

Yes, hes the man I want. Thank you, madame.

She still stood, watching, as he rang the doorbell of the designated apartment.

There was no answer, nor any sound from inside. The doctor looked apprehensively at the door.

Your key wouldnt let me in, I suppose, he said, turning back to the now frankly curious spectator.

Oh, Lord, no! We dont have interchangeable keys! Hes out, I expect. Hes mostly out.

But I want to get into his place

You do! And he not there! You a friend of his?

Why yes; Im his doctor and Im afraid hes ill.

Oh that. But look here if youre his doctor, why didnt you know which was his place? Youre pretty slick, mister, but its a bit fishy I think.

She half withdrew back into her own doorway, but curiosity still detained her, and, too, Doctor Davenports demeanor impressed her as being quite all right.

Nothing wrong is there? she whispered, coming across the small hall, and peering into the doctors face.

Oh, no I think not. But he may be helpless, and I must get in. Ive never been here before, but Ive been called by him just now. I must get in. Wheres the janitor?

Where, indeed? If you can find him, Ill bless you forever. Ive wanted him all day.

Isnt he on duty?

He doesnt know the meaning of duty. Its something hes never on.

She smiled at him, and noticing her for the first time, Davenport saw that she was handsome, in a careless, rather blatant way.

Her ash-blonde hair was loosely pinned up, and her dress negligee or tea-gown was fussy with lace, and not quite immaculate.

Her wide, light blue eyes returned his scrutiny, and for an instant each studied the other.

There is something wrong, she nodded, at last, What you going to do, Doctor?

Im going to get in. Ive wasted precious time already. He ran down the stairs and opening the front door summoned his chauffeur.

Come up here, Chris, he ordered, and the two returned together.

Can we break in that door? he said, ignoring the woman now.

My husbandll help, she volunteered, but Chris was already delivering effective blows.

However, the lock held, and turning to her, Doctor Davenport said, Do ask your husband to help us, please. I assure you its an emergency. Im Doctor Ely Davenport.

Come here, Jim, she obeyed orders. This is Doctor Davenport.

Ive heard of you, said a big, commonplace looking man, appearing. Im Mansfield. Whats up?

I have reason to think Mr Gleason is very ill. He just telephoned for me. I must get in. These old doors are strongly built, so Id like your help.

Mansfield looked at him sharply, and seeming satisfied, put his shoulder to the door.

United effort succeeded, and the three men entered, the woman hanging back in fear.

Gleason lay on the floor, in a crumpled heap, and the first glance proclaimed him dead.

Stooping quickly, Doctor Davenport felt for his heart, and shook his head as he rose again to his feet.

Hes dead, he said, quietly. Shot through the temple. Suicide, apparently, as the door was locked on the inside. Better take your wife away, Mr Mansfield. Shell be getting hysterical.

No, I wont, declared the lady referred to, but she was quite evidently pulling herself together. Let me come in.

No, forbade Davenport. Youve no call in here. Go back home, both of you. I shall send for the police and wait till they come.

But the doctor hesitated as he was about to touch the telephone.

The matter was mysterious. Suicide, of course, he ruminated, as he remembered the message received by Nurse Jordan. Shot himself, then, still living, cried to me for help. Wish I knew exactly what he said to Jordan. But, anyway, Im not going to disturb things there may be trouble ahead. Guess Ill leave the telephone alone and everything else.

Sit right here, Chris, he said, and dont move or stir. Look around all you like note anything and everything that strikes you. Ill be back soon.

Closing the broken door behind him, he went to the Mansfields apartment and asked to use their telephone. On this, he called the police, while the two listened eagerly.

Why did he do it? broke out Mrs Mansfield, as the receiver was hung up. Oh, Doctor, tell us something about it! Im eaten alive with curiosity.

Her big blue eyes shone with excitement, which her husband tried to suppress.

Now, be quiet, Dottie, he said, laying a hand on her shoulder.

I wont be quiet, and she shook off the hand. Heres a great big mystery right in my own house on my own floor and you say, be quiet! Ive got a right to know all about it, and Im going to! Im going up now, to tell Mrs Conway!

Her husband held her back forcibly, but Doctor Davenport said, Of course, it must become known, and if Mrs Mansfield enjoys spreading the news, I suppose she has a right to do so. No one may enter the Gleason rooms, though understand that.