A reporter for The Daily Gazette? I didnt want to see him at first, but Im glad I did. Hes going to help me detect.
Avice, dear, detecting as you call it, isnt a casual thing, to be done by anybody. Its a trade, a profession
Yes, I know. But Mr. Pinckney knows something of it, and he is very kind.
When a reporter is kind, its only for his personal benefit. The moment crime is committed, Avice, the reporters are on the job, and they never let go of it, until all suspects are freed or sentenced. But what they learn by their detection is only for their paper; it is rarely given in testimony, or turned to real account.
Mr. Pinckney will help me, Im sure, Avice persisted. And besides, he was in college with Mr. Landon, uncles nephew out West.
Landon? The chap you used to be in love with? and Judge Hoyt made a wry face.
In love! Nonsense! Im as much in love with him now as I ever was.
And how much is that?
Its so long since Ive seen him, Ive forgotten, and Avice, who couldnt help an occasional flash of her innate coquetry, smiled up into the stern face regarding her.
Beg pardon, Miss Avice, said Stryker, the butler, coming toward them; but do you want to be in the drawing-room for the the inquest, or upstairs?
I want to be right near the coroner and the jury. I want to know everything that goes on. Shall we go in there now, Leslie?
Yes, in a moment. What do you know of Mr. Trowbridges death, Stryker?
Me, Judge Hoyt? Nothing, nothing at all, sir. How should I?
I dont know, Im sure. I merely asked. Where were you yesterday afternoon, Stryker?
It was my day off, sir. I was out all afternoon.
Oh, all right. Dont take my question too seriously. Hoyt spoke kindly, for the butler showed considerable agitation. He started to say something, paused, stammered, and finally burst out with, I didnt kill him, Sir!
Good Lord, Stryker, nobody thought you did! But dont show such a scared face to the coroner when he questions you, or he may think all sorts of things.
What c could he think?
Nothing that I know of. By the way, Stryker, now that Mr. Trowbridge is gone, you can take out that insurance policy, cant you?
Oh, Mr. Hoyt, dont speak of such things now! and the old butler fairly wrung his hands.
All right, I wont. But when you want to talk it over, come to me. Is that your Pinckney, Avice, talking to Mrs. Black?
Yes; why, hes interviewing her! See his notebook. She is telling him lots!
Hes getting what they call a sob story. Shes working on his sympathies by pathetic tales of her loss. How does she treat you? All right?
Yes, except that she wants to be head of the house, and
That will settle itself. You wont stay here, dear, you will come to me. We will
Please dont talk like that now. I cant bear it. Avices brave, determined air forsook her, and with quivering lip, she looked imploringly at the man who gazed passionately into her troubled eyes.
Forgive me, dear, I should have known better. But when I think of you, here, alone, save for a woman who is nothing to you, I want to carry you off where I can protect you from all annoyance or trouble.
I know you do, and I ought to feel more grateful, but I cant seem to think of anything just now but
Of course, my darling, I understand, and it is all right. Only tell me what you want and I am at your orders, always and forever.
Then come with me to the other room, stay by me, and tell me what things mean, when I dont understand. Listen, too, yourself, to everything, so youll know just what to do when the police fail.
Why are you so sure they will fail?
Because the case is all so mysterious. Because it will take a clever and skilled brain to find my uncles murderer.
Avice spoke in low, intense tones, as if she were stirred to the very soul by her harrowing anxiety.
Avice, said Hoyt, suddenly, have you any suspicion of anybody anybody at all?
No! oh, no! How could I have?
But have you? Hoyt scanned her face closely, noting the quickly dropped eyelids and firm, set mouth.
Not a suspicion oh, no!
A premonition, then? A vague idea of any way to look?
No no. No, I havent.
The first negative was hesitating, the second, positive and decided. It was as if she had instantly made up her mind to say nothing more.
Leslie Hoyt looked at her, and then with a gentle smile, as of one humoring a child, he said: All right, dear. Come now with me.
And together, they went to listen to the inquest held to determine the circumstances of the death of Rowland Trowbridge.
CHAPTER IV
THE INQUEST BEGINS
As Avice entered the drawing-room, she seemed to sense only a blur of faces. It was incredible that this should be the room where she had so often laughed and danced and sung in thoughtless joyousness of spirit. She blindly followed Judge Hoyt, and sat where he bade her, quite near the coroner and his jury.
The jurymen, though solemnly attentive to their duty, could not help their roving gaze being attracted to the splendor of their surroundings. The Trowbridge home was the perfection of quiet, old-fashioned elegance. Often Avice had wanted to introduce more modern furniture and decorations, but Mr. Trowbridge had firmly denied her requests. And so the old crystal chandeliers still drooped their festooned prisms and the massive doors were still of a soft, lusterless black, with fine gilt outlines of panelling.
Mrs. Black, too, often sighed for modern bric-a-brac and fashionable window draperies, but the will of the master was law, and the quaint Sevres vases and heavy hangings remained untouched.
Coroner Berg fairly fluttered with importance. Only lately had he been appointed to his office, and he assumed a knowing air to hide his lack of experience. He was naturally acute and shrewd, but his mind just now was occupied more with the manner than the matter of his procedure. He had studied well his book of rules, and it was with great dignity that he called for the police report on the case.
The testimony of the chief of police and the police surgeon set forth the principal known facts, which were, however, lamentably few. Even the coroners intelligent questions failed to bring out more than the story of the telephone message, the account of the finding of the body and the nature of the crime.
Do you assume the assailant to have been right-handed? Berg asked of the surgeon.
Apparently, yes. But not necessarily so. The blade penetrated the victims left breast, and was most likely dealt by a person standing directly facing him.
Was the thrust directed with an upward slant or downward?
Neither. It was just about level. It slanted, however, toward the middle of the body, from the left side, thus practically proving a right-handed use of the weapon.
Was death instantaneous?
Probably not. But it must have occurred very shortly after the blow.
Doctor Fulton, the family physician, corroborated the report of the police surgeon in all its essentials.
Was Mr. Trowbridge in general good health, so far as you know? asked the coroner.
Absolutely. He was strong, hale and hearty, always. I have known him for years, and he was never seriously ill.
Absolutely. He was strong, hale and hearty, always. I have known him for years, and he was never seriously ill.
And strong?
Of average strength.
Would you not judge then, he could have resisted this attack?
Undoubtedly he tried to do so. There is some indication of a muscular struggle. But the assumption must be that the assailant was a stronger man than the victim.
How do you explain his contorted features, even in death?
By the fact that he was surprised and overpowered, and his dying struggles were so desperate as to leave their mark.
You do not attribute the expression on the dead face to any terrific mental emotion at the moment of death?
It may be so. Indeed, it may be the result of both mental and physical agony.
The point is important, said the coroner, with an impressive wave of his hand. For if mental, it might mean that the man who attacked him was known to him; while merely physical horror would imply a robber or thug.
The jurymen wagged their heads wisely at this sapient remark, as if it opened up a new field of conjecture.
Avice was questioned next.
She was a little startled at the suddenness of the call, but responded clearly and with an entirely collected manner to all queries.
You are Mr. Trowbridges niece?
Yes, the daughter of his younger brother.
You make your home here?
Yes.
How long have you done so?
Since childhood. My parents died before I was ten years old.
And you are your uncles heiress?
Judge Hoyt looked a little annoyed at the baldness of this question, but Avice replied, serenely, To the extent of part of his fortune.
Can you tell me any details of the last day of your uncles life?
Very few. He left home in the morning to go to his business office quite as usual. He generally returns about five oclock. When he did not arrive at that time, I felt anxious, and later, called Judge Hoyt on the telephone to ask if he had seen or heard of my uncle.
Why did you call Judge Hoyt?
He was not only my uncles lawyer, but his personal friend. They had business to transact at times, and I thought my uncle might possibly have gone to see him. When I learned that Judge Hoyt knew nothing of my uncles whereabouts, I asked him to come here, as I felt decidedly uneasy and wanted some one to confer with in whom I felt confidence.
Had Mr. Trowbridge manifested any unusual tendencies or habits of late?
None whatever. He has been well, happy and quite as usual in every way.
Can you form any opinion or have you any suspicion as to who might have committed this crime?
Absolutely none. But I have an unflinching determination to find out, at any expense of time, labor or money!
The girls voice rang out in a high, sharp tone, and she clenched her slender hands until the knuckles showed through the white skin.
We all have that determination, Miss Trowbridge, said the coroner, a little stiffly, and after a few unimportant questions, Avice was dismissed.
Mrs. Black was called next. This time it was a case of diamond cut diamond. If the coroner was self-important, he was no more so than his witness. If he spoke with pomposity she answered with disdain, and if he was dictatorial she was arrogant.
You are housekeeper here? Berg began.
That is my position, but I was also the fiancée of the late Mr. Trowbridge and should have been his wife next month, had he lived so long.
Confine your answers, please, to the questions asked.
Your question required two statements in reply.
You are a beneficiary under the will of Mr. Trowbridge?
I have not yet heard the will read.
Do you not know?
I know only what Mr. Trowbridge himself told me.
And that was?
That I should inherit a handsome sum, in addition to this house and its contents.
In the event of your being his wife?
In the event of his death.
Do you know anything further than we have heard of Mr. Trowbridges movements on the day that he met his death?
I do, a little. Eleanor Black bridled and smiled sadly. The jurymen gazed in involuntary admiration, for the features of the beautiful brunette took on an added charm from that slight smile.
What is it?
He telephoned to me about two oclock, saying he would be home early and we would go out for a little motor ride. He was very fond of motoring, with me.
The last two words were added in a lower tone that implied a most romantic attachment between these two.
He intended to leave his office shortly after noon, then?
Possibly it was a little later than two that he called me up. I dont remember exactly. But he said he would be home by three or four.
And when he did not appear were you not alarmed?
No, Mr. Trowbridge was so apt to have unexpected business matters turn up, that I merely supposed that was the case, and thought nothing strange of it. Nor was I surprised when he did not appear at six. I felt sure, then, that some important development in his affairs had kept him down town so late.
Miss Trowbridge was greatly alarmed?
Yes.
The superb indifference of Eleanor Blacks manner showed clearly that it was a matter of no moment to her if another had been anxious.
Have you any suspicion as to who could have done this thing?
The great black eyes of the witness turned slowly toward the coroner. At the remark about Avice she had looked carelessly in another direction.
I think not, she said.
Are you not sure?
What do you mean by suspicion?
Do you know of anybody who might have killed Mr. Trowbridge?
Thats no question! Her scorn was marked. Hundreds of people might have killed him.
Do you know of any one, then, who you think would be likely to have done so?
Likely to? Goodness, no.
Who possibly did do so, then?
Possibly?
Yes, possibly. Is there any one whom you can definitely consider a possible suspect?
No; I dont know of any one.
The widow was a most provoking witness. She gave an impression of holding something back, yet her face wore an ingenuous expression and she pouted a little, as if unfairly addressed.
You were at home all day yesterday? the coroner went on.
Yes, I expected Mr. Trowbridge, so of course I did not go out.
Why, Eleanor, exclaimed Avice, impulsively, you went out for an hour soon after luncheon. Dont you know, I gave you a letter to post?
Oh, yes, I forgot that, and Mrs. Black looked a trifle confused. I was sure Mr. Trowbridge wouldnt get here before three, so I ran out for a few moments.
Where did you go?
Oh, nowhere in particular. I only went to get a little air. Just walking around the adjacent blocks. She spoke lightly, but her heightened color and quickened breathing betokened an embarrassment which she strove not to show, and, too, she cast a glance at Avice that was anything but friendly.
The coroner seemed unable to think of anything else to ask the witness. He looked at her thoughtfully, and she returned his glance coolly, but he questioned her no further just then.
The butler came next, and his testimony was garbled and incoherent. His emotion frequently overcame him, and he was unable to speak.
At last Judge Hoyt spoke rather sharply to him.