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.
Go on, then, Dottie, Mansfield said; maybe youd better.
Shes very excitable, he sighed, as his wife ran up the stairs.
Shes better off, unburdening her news, than being thwarted, said the doctor, indifferently. Let her do what she likes. What can you tell me, Mr Mansfield, of your neighbor, Gleason?
Not much, Doctor. He kept to himself, as far as the people in this house were concerned. We didnt know him socially no one in the house did and though he said good-day, if we met in the halls, it was with a short and unsocial manner.
Nobody actively disliked him?
Nobody knew him well enough for that unless well, no, I may say none of us knew him.
Yet you hesitated, the doctor looked at him keenly; why did you?
A mere passing thought better left unspoken.
All right, Mr Mansfield perhaps you are wise. But, if asked to, youd better speak your thought to the police.
Oh, sure. Im a law-abiding citizen I hope. Will they be here soon?
Nothing happens soon in matters like this. Its delay, linger and wait on the part of everybody. Im bothered Ive important affairs on hand but here I must stick, till the arm of the law gets ready to strike.
Davenport returned to Gleasons apartment, where the stolid Chris kept guard.
Well? said the doctor, glancing at his man.
Looks like a suicide to me, sir. Looks like he shot himself theres the revolver I havent touched it. And then he fell over all in a heap.
It seems he telephoned after he shot
He did? How could he?
Look again at his position. Near the desk, on which the telephone sits. He might have shot, and then
Not that shot in his temple!
No; but there may be another. I havent looked carefully yet. Ah, yes see, Chris, heres another bullet hole, in his left shoulder. Say, he fired that shot, then, getting cold feet, called off the suicide idea and telephoned for me. Then, getting desperate again, fired a second shot through his temple, which, of course, did for him oh, a fanciful tale, I know but, you see, the detective work isnt up to me. When the police come theyll look after that and I can go.
But the police, arriving, were very much interested in this theory of Doctor Davenports.
Prescott, an alert young detective, who came with the inspector especially interested the physician by his keen-witted and clearly put questions.
Did you know this man? he asked among his first queries.
Yes, returned Davenport, but not well. Ive never been here before. Hes Robert Gleason, a very rich man, from Seattle. Staying here this winter, in this apartment which belongs to McIlvaine, a friend of Gleasons.
Wheres McIlvaine?
In California. Gleason took over the place, furnished and all, for the winter months.
Any relatives?
Yes; Davenport hated to drag in the Lindsays, but it had to be done. His sister, Mrs Lindsay, lives in upper Park Avenue.
Have you called her up?
No; I thought wiser to do nothing, until you people came. Also, Im a very busy man, and outside my actual duty here, I cant afford to spend much time.
I see. Then the sister is the only relative in New York?
I think so. There are two Lindsay children, but theyre not hers. She married a widower.
I see. And the address?
Doctor Davenport gave it, and then started to go.
Wait a minute, please, urged Prescott. Had the dead man any friends, that you know of?
Oh, yes. Many of them. He was put up at the Camberwell Club, by McIlvaine himself. And he had many friends among the members.
Names?
Doctor Davenport thought quickly, and decided to give no names of the group that had been with Gleason that same afternoon.
He gave the names of three other Club members, and sending Chris down ahead, again endeavored to depart himself.
Again Prescott detained him.
Sorry, Doc, he said, pleasantly, but youre here now, and something tells me itll be hard to get hold of you again, once I lose you. Inspector Gale, here, is putting through the necessary red tape and all that, and hell see to notifying relatives and friends, and hell take charge of the premises but well, Ive a hunch, this isnt a suicide.
What, murder? cried the doctor, his quick acceptance of the suggestion proving the thought had been in his own mind.
Well, you never can tell. And I want to get all the sidelight on the case I can. Was Mr Gleason happy and all that?
Yes; so far as I know. I tell you I was not an intimate scarcely enough to be called a friend merely an acquaintance.
I see. Had the man any enemies?
The direct glance that accompanied these words discomfited Davenport a little.
Why do you ask me that? he said, shortly. How should I know?
Oh, its a thing anybody might know even a mere acquaintance. And your desperate hurry to get away makes me think you dont take kindly to this catechism.
Rubbish! Im a busy man a doctor sometimes is. Ive numerous and important engagements for the evening. Now, if thats incriminating, make the most of it!
Fie, fie, dont get peeved! Now, tell me once again, what the injured man said to your nurse and Ill let you go.
I dont know the exact words. Ive not seen her. But he called my office, said he was shot, and for me to come right here and quickly. Thats all I know of the message. Now as to my report its that the man received two shots whether by his own hand or anothers. One, in his left shoulder and another the fatal one through his temple, producing instant death. You can get me at any time if necessary. But I dont want to be hauled over here, or summoned to headquarters to repeat these facts. Ill send a typed report, and Ill do anything in reason but I know how you detectives mull over things, and how your slow processes eat up time which though it seems of little account to you, is mighty valuable to me.
Yes, sir yes, sir. Now if youll speak to Inspector Gale a minute, you can go.
Grunting an assent, Davenport waited for the Inspector to finish writing a bit of memorandum on which he was busily engaged.
The doctor was sitting in a big easy chair, and as he squirmed impatiently, he felt something soft beneath his heavy frame.
Feeling about the chair cushions, he found it was fur, and a fleeting thought that he had sat on a cat passed through his mind.
A second later he knew it was a fur strip, probably a neck piece, doubtless belonging to some woman.
Now, the doctor had a very soft place in his heart for the feminine sex in general, and his mind leaped to the idea of this fur, left there by some indiscreet girl visitor, and the possibility of its getting the doubtless innocent young lady into a moil of trouble.
Also, he had a dim, indistinct notion that he recognized the fur, at which he had stolen a furtive look.
At any rate, unseen by the Inspector or either of his two colleagues present, Davenport adroitly slipped the small fur collar into his capacious overcoat pocket, and sat, looking as innocent of duplicity as a canary-fed cat.
At any rate, unseen by the Inspector or either of his two colleagues present, Davenport adroitly slipped the small fur collar into his capacious overcoat pocket, and sat, looking as innocent of duplicity as a canary-fed cat.
Now, Doctor, and Inspector Gale frowned importantly, this may be a simple case of suicide, and again it may not. So, I want your opinion as to whether it is possible that both those shots were fired by Mr Gleason himself.
Quite possible, Inspector, and, it seems to me, decidedly probable, as I cannot see how the victim could have telephoned, with a murderer in the room.
Thats apparently true, but we have to think of even the remotest possibilities. If the murderer granting there was one had been merely intending to frighten his victim, maybe a robber, he might have been and if after that call for help, the intruder finished off his victim oh, well, all these ideas must be looked into, you know. The case is not entirely clear to me.
Nor to me, returned Davenport, but I cannot feel that I can help you in your deductions. Answering your questions, I say it would have been quite possible for Mr Gleason to have fired those two shots himself. You see the first one hit his left shoulder, leaving his right arm available to fire the second shot.
Why did he merely maim himself first?
Heavens, man! I dont know. Missed aim, perhaps or, just shooting for practice! Such questions make me mad! If you want any more medical statements, say so if not, for goodness sake, let me go!
For goodness sake, let him go, repeated Prescott, and Dr Davenport went.
Some mess, Prescott said, after the doctors angry footsteps tramped down the stairs.
CHAPTER III The Lindsays
Youre sure no one in this building knew Mr Gleason any better than you two did? Prescott asked of the Mansfields, as he put them through a course of questioning.
Oh, no, Mrs Mansfield informed him, volubly, and we didnt know him much, but being on the same floor there are only two apartments on each floor, we saw him once in a while, going in or out, and he would bow distantly, and mumble good-morning, but thats all.
You heard no noise from his apartment, during the last hour?
No; but I wasnt noticing. Its across the hall, you know, and the walls are thick in these old houses.
Was he going out, do you think? asked Jim Mansfield, thoughtfully. He always went out to dinner.
Probably he was, then. Its evident he was dressing he was in his shirtsleeves his day shirt and his evening clothes were laid out on the bed.
When did it happen?
As nearly as I can make out, he telephoned for the doctor about quarter before seven. He must have expired shortly after. As I figure it oh, well, the medical examiner is in there now, and I dont want to discuss the details until he gets through his examination. Its an interesting case, but Im only out for side evidence. What about Gleasons visitors? Did he have many?
No, offered Mrs Mansfield, but he had some. Ive heard well, people go in there, and he was mighty glad to see them, judging by the gay laughter and chatter.
Oh lady friends?
Mrs Mansfield smiled, but her husband said quickly, Shut up, Dottie! You talk too much! Youll get us involved in this case, and make a lot of trouble. He had callers occasionally, Mr Prescott, but we never knew who they were and weve no call to remark on them.
Well, I give you the call. Dont you see, man, your information may be vitally necessary
Here Prescott was recalled to the Gleason apartment.
The medical examiner had concluded his task. He agreed with Doctor Davenport that the shots could have been fired by Gleason himself, though, but for the locked door, he should have thought them the acts of another person. The presence of powder stains proved that the shots were fired at close range, but not necessarily by the dead man himself.
Still, the door being locked on the inside, it looked like suicide.
No, Prescott disagreed, that doesnt cut any ice. You see, its a spring catch. It fastens itself when closed. If an intruder was here and went out again, closing that door behind him, it would have locked itself.
Thats right, assented Gale. So, it may be suicide or murder. But well find out which. Weve hardly begun to investigate yet. Now, we must let his sister know.
Its pretty awful to spring it on her over the telephone, demurred Prescott, as Gale started for the desk.
Got to be done, Inspector Gale declared, I mean weve got to tell somebody who knew him. How about those men at the Club?
Thats better, consented Prescott. Just call the Camberwell Club, and get any one of those Davenport mentioned. But, I say, Gale, use the Mansfields telephone. Im saving up this one for fingerprint work.
Oh, you and your fingerprint work! Gale grumbled. You attach too much importance to that, Prescott.
All right, but you let the telephone alone. And the revolver, too. Why, I wouldnt have those touched for anything! Ill get them photographed to-morrow. Shall I call the Club?
Yes, grunted Gale, and Prescott went back to the opposite apartment.
Sorry to trouble you people, he said, with his winning smile, but if you object, say so, and Ill run out to a drug store.
None around here, vouchsafed Mansfield, looking a little annoyed at the intrusion, however. Isnt there a telephone in the Gleason rooms?
Yes; but I dont want to use that. Prescott had already taken up the Mansfield receiver. Please let me have this one, and a bright smile at Dottie Mansfield made her his ally.
Getting the Club, Prescott asked for the names Davenport had supplied. Only one man was available, and Mr Harper was finally connected.
What is it? he asked, curtly.
Mr Robert Gleason has been found dead in his home, Prescott stated; and as youre said to be a friend of his, Im asking you to inform his sister, or
Indeed I wont! Why should I be asked to do such an unpleasant errand? Ive merely a nodding acquaintance with Mr Gleason. Dead, you say? Apoplexy?
No; shot.
Good God! Murdered?
We dont know. Murder or suicide. Im Detective Prescott. I want you to tell his sister, or advise me how best to break the news to her. Shes Mrs Lindsay
Yes, yes I know. Well, now, let me see. Dead! Why, the man was here this afternoon.
Yes; apparently he returned home safely, and while dressing for dinner, either shot himself or was shot by some one else.
Never shot himself in the world! Robert Gleason? No, never shot himself. Well, let me see let me see. Suppose you call up some closer friend of his. Really, I knew him but slightly.
All right. Who was his nearest friend?
Humph I dont know. He wasnt long on intimate friends!
Little liked?
I wouldnt say that but close friends, now let me see; he was talking this afternoon with a bunch Doctor Davenport, Phil Barry, Dean Monroe, Manning Pollard oh, yes, Fred Lane. And maybe others. But I know I saw him in the group Ive just mentioned. Call up Davenport.
Tell me the next best one to call.
Barry but wait they had a quarrel recently. Try Lane or Pollard.
Addresses?