X
DETECTIVE KNAPP ARRIVES
Meanwhile, in a small room at the court-house, a still more seriousconversation was in progress. Dr. Talbot, Mr. Fenton, and a certain ablelawyer in town by the name of Harvey, were in close discussion. The lasthad broken the silence of years, and was telling what he knew of Mrs.Webb's affairs.
He was a shrewd man, of unblemished reputation. When called upon totalk, he talked well, but he much preferred listening, and was, as nowappeared, the safest repository of secrets to be found in all thatregion. He had been married three times, and could still count thirteenchildren around his board, one reason, perhaps, why he had learned tocultivate silence to such a degree. Happily, the time had come for himto talk, and he talked. This is what he said:
"Some fifteen years ago Philemon Webb came to me with a small sum ofmoney, which he said he wished to have me invest for his wife. It wasthe fruit of a small speculation of his and he wanted it givenunconditionally to her without her knowledge or that of the neighbours.I accordingly made out a deed of gift, which he signed with joyfulalacrity, and then after due thought and careful investigation, I putthe money into a new enterprise then being started in Boston. It was thebest stroke of business I ever did in my life. At the end of a year itpaid double, and after five had rolled away the accumulated interest hadreached such a sum that both Philemon and myself thought it wisest tolet her know what she was worth and what was being done with the money.I was in hopes it would lead her to make some change in her mode ofliving, which seemed to me out of keeping with her appearance and mentalqualifications; while he, I imagine, looked for something more importantstill--a smile on the face which had somehow lost the trick ofmerriment, though it had never acquired that of ill nature. But we didnot know Agatha; at least I did not. When she learned that she was rich,she looked at first awestruck and then heart-pierced. Forgetting me, orignoring me, it makes no matter which, she threw herself into Philemon'sarms and wept, while he, poor faithful fellow, looked as distressed asif he had brought news of failure instead of triumphant success. Isuppose she thought of her buried children, and what the money wouldhave been to her if they had lived; but she did not speak of them, noram I quite sure they were in her thoughts when, after the firstexcitement was over, she drew back and said quietly, but in a tone ofstrong feeling, to Philemon: 'You meant me a happy surprise, and youmust not be disappointed. This is heart money; we will use it to makeour townsfolk happy.' I saw him glance at her dress, which was a purplecalico. I remember it because of that look and because of the sad smilewith which she followed his glance. 'Can we not afford now,' heventured, 'a little show of luxury, or at least a ribbon or so for thisbeautiful throat of yours?' She did not answer him; but her look had arare compassion in it, a compassion, strange to say, that seemed to beexpended upon him rather than upon herself. Philemon swallowed hisdisappointment. 'Agatha is right,' he said to me. 'We do not needluxury. I do not know how I so far forgot myself as to mention it.' Thatwas ten years ago, and every day since then her property has increased.I did not know then, and I do not know now, why they were both soanxious that all knowledge of their good fortune should be kept fromthose about them; but that it was to be so kept was made very evident tome; and, notwithstanding all temptations to the contrary, I haverefrained from uttering a word likely to give away their secret. Themoney, which to all appearance was the cause of her tragic and untimelydeath, was interest money which I was delegated to deliver her. I tookit to her day before yesterday, and it was all in crisp new notes, someof them twenties, but most of them tens and fives. I am free to saythere was not such another roll of fresh money in town."
"Warn all shopkeepers to keep a sharp lookout for new bills in the moneythey receive," was Dr. Talbot's comment to the constable. "Fresh ten-andtwenty-dollar bills are none too common in this town. And now about herwill. Did you draw that up, Harvey?"
"No. I did not know she had made one. I often spoke to her about theadvisability of her doing so, but she always put me off. And now itseems that she had it drawn up in Boston. Could not trust her old friendwith too many secrets, I suppose."
"So you don't know how her money has been left?"
"No more than you do."
Here an interruption occurred. The door opened and a slim young man,wearing spectacles, came in. At sight of him they all rose.
"Well?" eagerly inquired Dr. Talbot.
"Nothing new," answered the young man, with a consequential air. "Theelder woman died from loss of blood consequent upon a blow given by asmall, three-sided, slender blade; the younger from a stroke ofapoplexy, induced by fright."
"Good! I am glad to hear my instincts were not at fault. Loss of blood,eh? Death, then, was not instantaneous?"
"No."
"Strange!" fell from the lips of his two listeners. "She lived, yet gaveno alarm."
"None that was heard," suggested the young doctor, who was from anothertown.
"Or, if heard, reached no ears but Philemon's," observed the constable."Something must have taken him up-stairs."
"I am not so sure," said the coroner, "that Philemon is not answerablefor the whole crime, notwithstanding our failure to find the missingmoney anywhere in the house. How else account for the resignation withwhich she evidently met her death? Had a stranger struck her, AgathaWebb would have struggled. There is no sign of struggle in the room."
"She would have struggled against Philemon had she had strength tostruggle. I think she was asleep when she was struck."
"Ah! And was not standing by the table? How about the blood there,then?"
"Shaken from the murderer's fingers in fright or disgust."
"There was no blood on Philemon's fingers."
"No; he wiped them on his sleeve."
"If he was the one to use the dagger against her, where is the dagger?Should we not be able to find it somewhere about the premises?"
"He may have buried it outside. Crazy men are supernaturally cunning."
"When you can produce it from any place inside that board fence, I willconsider your theory. At present I limit my suspicions of Philemon tothe half-unconscious attentions which a man of disordered intellectmight give a wife bleeding and dying under his eyes. My idea on thesubject is---"
"Would you be so kind as not to give utterance to your ideas until Ihave been able to form some for myself?" interrupted a voice from thedoorway.
As this voice was unexpected, they all turned. A small man with sleekdark hair and expressionless features stood before them. Behind him wasAbel, carrying a hand-bag and umbrella.
"The detective from Boston," announced the latter. Coroner Talbot rose.
"You are in good time," he remarked. "We have work of no ordinary naturefor you."
The man failed to look interested. But then his countenance was not oneto show emotion.
"My name is Knapp," said he. "I have had my supper, and am ready to goto work. I have read the newspapers; all I want now is any additionalfacts that have come to light since the telegraphic dispatches were sentto Boston. Facts, mind you; not theories. I never allow myself to behampered by other persons' theories."
Not liking his manner, which was brusque and too self-important for aman of such insignificant appearance, Coroner Talbot referred him to Mr.Fenton, who immediately proceeded to give him the result of suchinvestigations as he and his men had been able to make; which done, Mr.Knapp put on his hat and turned toward the door.
"I will go to the house and see for myself what is to be learned there,"said he. "May I ask the privilege of going alone?" he added, as Mr.Fenton moved. "Abel will see that I am given admittance."
"Show me your credentials," said the coroner. He did so. "They seem allright, and you should be a man who understands his business. Go alone,if you prefer, but bring your conclusions here. They may need somecorrecting."
"Oh, I will return," Knapp nonchalantly remarked, and went out, havingmade anything but a favourable impression upon the assembled gentlemen.
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p; "I wish we had shown more grit and tried to handle this thingourselves," observed Mr. Fenton. "I cannot bear to think of that cold,bloodless creature hovering over our beloved Agatha."
"I wonder at Carson. Why should he send us such a man? Could he not seethe matter demanded extraordinary skill and judgment?"
"Oh, this fellow may have skill. But he is so unpleasant. I hate to dealwith folks of such fish-like characteristics. But who is this?" he askedas a gentle tap was heard at the door. "Why, it's Loton. What can hewant here?"
The man whose presence in the doorway had called out this exclamationstarted at the sound of the doctor's heavy voice, and came veryhesitatingly forward. He was of a weak, irritable type, and seemed to bein a state of great excitement.
"I beg pardon," said he, "for showing myself. I don't like to intrudeinto such company, but I have something to tell you which may be of use,sirs, though it isn't any great thing, either."
"Something about the murder which has taken place?" asked the coroner,in a milder tone. He knew Loton well, and realised the advisability ofencouragement in his case.
"The murder! Oh, I wouldn't presume to say anything about the murder.I'm not the man to stir up any such subject as that. It's about themoney--or some money--more money than usually falls into my till. It--itwas rather queer, sirs, and I have felt the flutter of it all day. ShallI tell you about it? It happened last night, late last night, sirs, solate that I was in bed with my wife, and had been snoring, she said,four hours."
"What money? New money? Crisp, fresh bills, Loton?" eagerly questionedMr. Fenton.
Loton, who was the keeper of a small confectionery and bakery store onone of the side streets leading up the hill, shifted uneasily betweenhis two interrogators, and finally addressed himself to the coroner:
"It was new money. I thought it felt so at night, but I was sure of itin the morning. A brand-new bill, sir, a--But that isn't the queerestthing about it. I was asleep, sir, sound asleep, and dreaming of mycourting days (for I asked Sally at the circus, sirs, and the bandplaying on the hill made me think of it), when I was suddenly shookawake by Sally herself, who says she hadn't slept a wink for listeningto the music and wishing she was a girl again. 'There's a man at theshop door,' cries she. 'He's a-calling of you; go and see what hewants.' I was mad at being wakened. Dreaming is pleasant, specially whenclowns and kissing get mixed up in it, but duty is duty, and so into theshop I stumbled, swearing a bit perhaps, for I hadn't stopped for alight and it was as dark as double shutters could make it. The hammeringhad become deafening. No let up till I reached the door, when itsuddenly ceased.
"'What is it?' I cried. 'Who's there and what do you want?'
"A trembling voice answered me. 'Let me in,' it said. 'I want to buysomething to eat. For God's sake, open the door!'
"I don't know why I obeyed, for it was late, and I did not know thevoice, but something in the impatient rattling of the door whichaccompanied the words affected me in spite of myself, and I slowlyopened my shop to this midnight customer.
"'You must be hungry,' I began. But the person who had crowded in assoon as the opening was large enough wouldn't let me finish.
"'Bread! I want bread, or crackers, or anything that you can findeasiest,' he gasped, like a man who had been running. 'Here's money';and he poked into my hand a bill so stiff that it rattled. 'It's morethan enough,' he hastened to say, as I hesitated over it, 'but nevermind that; I'll come for the change in the morning.'
"'Who are you? I cried. 'You are not Blind Willy, I'm sure.'
"But his only answer was 'Bread!' while he leaned so hard against thecounter I felt it shake.
"I could not stand that cry of 'Bread!' so I groped about in the dark,and found him a stale loaf, which I put into his arms, with a short,'There! Now tell me what your name is.'
"But at this he seemed to shrink into himself; and muttering somethingthat might pass for thanks, he stumbled towards the door and rushedhastily out. Running after him, I listened eagerly to his steps. Theywent up the hill."
"And the money? What about the money?" asked the coroner. "Didn't hecome back for the change?"
"No. I put it in the till, thinking it was a dollar bill. But when Icame to look at it in the morning, it was a twenty; yes, sirs, atwenty!"
This was startling. The coroner and the constable looked at each otherbefore looking again at him.
"And where is that bill now?" asked the former. "Have you brought itwith you?"
"I have, sir. It's been in and out of the till twenty times to-day. Ihaven't known what to do with it. I don't like to think wrong ofanybody, but when I heard that Mrs. Webb (God bless her!) was murderedlast night for money, I couldn't rest for the weight of this thing on myconscience. Here's the bill, sir. I wish I had let the old man rap on mydoor till morning before I had taken it from him."
They did not share this feeling. A distinct and valuable clew seemed tobe afforded them by the fresh, crisp bill they saw in his hand. SilentlyDr. Talbot took it, while Mr. Fenton, with a shrewd look, asked:
"What reasons have you for calling this mysterious customer old? Ithought it was so dark you could not see him."
The man, who looked relieved since he had rid himself of the bill, eyedthe constable in some perplexity.
"I didn't see a feature of his face," said he, "and yet I'm sure he wasold. I never thought of him as being anything else."
"Well, we will see. And is that all you have to tell us?"
His nod was expressive, and they let him go.
An hour or so later Detective Knapp made his reappearance.
"Well," asked the coroner, as he came quietly in and closed the doorbehind him, "what's your opinion?"
"Simple case, sir. Murdered for money. Find the man with a flowingbeard."