XVII
THE SLIPPERS, THE FLOWER, AND WHAT SWEETWATER MADE OF THEM
A half-hour later these men were all closeted with Dr. Talbot in theZabel kitchen. Abel had rejoined them, and Sweetwater was telling hisstory with great earnestness and no little show of pride.
"Gentlemen, when I charge a young woman of respectable appearance andconnections with such a revolting crime as murder, I do so with goodreason, as I hope presently to make plain to you all.
"Gentlemen, on the night and at the hour Agatha Webb was killed, I wasplaying with four other musicians in Mr. Sutherland's hallway. From theplace where I sat I could see what went on in the parlour and also havea clear view of the passageway leading down to the garden door. As thedancing was going on in the parlour I naturally looked that way most,and this is how I came to note the eagerness with which, during thefirst part of the evening, Frederick Sutherland and Amabel Page cametogether in the quadrilles and country dances. Sometimes she spoke asshe passed him, and sometimes he answered, but not always, although henever failed to show he was pleased with her or would have been ifsomething--perhaps it was his lack of confidence in her, sirs--had notstood in the way of a perfect understanding. She seemed to notice thathe did not always respond, and after a while showed less inclination tospeak herself, though she did not fail to watch him, and that intently.But she did not watch him any more closely than I did her, though Ilittle thought at the time what would come of my espionage. She wore awhite dress and white shoes, and was as coquettish and seductive as theevil one makes them. Suddenly I missed her. She was in the middle of thedance one minute and entirely out of it the next. Naturally I supposedher to have slipped aside with Frederick Sutherland, but he was still insight, looking so pale and so abstracted, however, I was sure the youngmiss was up to some sort of mischief. But what mischief? Watching andwaiting, but no longer confining my attention to the parlour, Ipresently espied her stealing along the passageway I have mentioned,carrying a long cloak which she rolled up and hid behind the open door.Then she came back humming a gay little song which didn't deceive me fora moment. 'Good!' thought I, 'she and that cloak will soon joincompany.' And they did. As we were playing the Harebell mazurka I againcaught sight of her stealthy white figure in that distant doorway.Seizing the cloak, she wrapped it round her, and with just one furtivelook backwards, seen, I warrant, by no one but myself, she vanished inthe outside dark. 'Now to note who follows her!' But nobody followedher. This struck me as strange, and having a natural love for detectivework, in spite of my devotion to the arts, I consulted the clock at thefoot of the stairs, and noting that it was half-past eleven, scribbledthe hour on the margin of my music, with the intention of seeing howlong my lady would linger outside alone. Gentlemen, it was two hoursbefore I saw her face again. How she got back into the house I do notknow. It was not by the garden door, for my eye seldom left it; yet ator near half-past one I heard her voice on the stair above me and sawher descend and melt into the crowd as if she had not been absent fromit for more than five minutes. A half-hour later I saw her withFrederick again. They were dancing, but not with the same spirit asbefore, and even while I watched them they separated. Now where was MissPage during those two long hours? I think I know, and it is time Iunburdened myself to the police.
"But first I must inform you of a small discovery I made while the dancewas still in progress. Miss Page had descended the stairs, as I havesaid, from what I now know to have been her own room. Her dress was, inall respects, the same as before, with one exception--her white slippershad been exchanged for blue ones. This seemed to show that they had beenrendered unserviceable, or at least unsightly, by the walk she hadtaken. This in itself was not remarkable nor would her peculiar escapadehave made more than a temporary impression upon my curiosity if she hadnot afterward shown in my presence such an unaccountable andextraordinary interest in the murder which had taken place in the townbelow during the very hours of her absence from Mr. Sutherland's ball.This, in consideration of her sex, and her being a stranger to theperson attacked, was remarkable, and, though perhaps I had no businessto do what I did, I no sooner saw the house emptied of master andservants than I stole softly back, and climbed the stairs to her room.Had no good followed this intrusion, which, I am quite ready toacknowledge, was a trifle presumptuous, I would have held my peace inregard to it; but as I did make a discovery there, which has, as Ibelieve, an important bearing on this affair, I have forced myself tomention it. The lights in the house having been left burning, I had nodifficulty in finding her apartment. I knew it by the folderolsscattered about. But I did not stop to look at them. I was on a searchfor her slippers, and presently came upon them, thrust behind an oldpicture in the dimmest corner of the room. Taking them down, I examinedthem closely. They were not only soiled, gentlemen, but dreadfully cutand rubbed. In short, they were ruined, and, thinking that the younglady herself would be glad to be rid of them, I quietly put them into mypocket, and carried them to my own home. Abel has just been for them, soyou can see them for yourselves, and if your judgment coincides withmine, you will discover something more on them than mud."
Dr. Talbot, though he stared a little at the young man's confessedtheft, took the slippers Abel was holding out and carefully turned themover. They were, as Sweetwater had said, grievously torn and soiled, andshowed, beside several deep earth-stains, a mark or two of a bright redcolour, quite unmistakable in its character.
"Blood," declared the coroner. "There is no doubt about it. Miss Pagewas where blood was spilled last night."
"I have another proof against her," Sweetwater went on, in fullenjoyment of his prominence amongst these men, who, up to now, hadbarely recognised his existence. "When, full of the suspicion that MissPage had had a hand in the theft which had taken place at Mrs. Webb'shouse, if not in the murder that accompanied it, I hastened down to thescene of the tragedy, I met this young woman issuing from the frontgate. She had just been making herself conspicuous by pointing out atrail of blood on the grass plot. Dr. Talbot, who was there, willremember how she looked on that occasion; but I doubt if he noticed howAbel here looked, or so much as remarked the faded flower the silly boyhad stuck in his buttonhole."
"--me if I did!" ejaculated the coroner.
"Yet that flower has a very important bearing on this case. He had foundit, as he will tell you, on the floor near Batsy's skirts, and as soonas I saw it in his coat, I bade him take it out and keep it, for,gentlemen, it was a very uncommon flower, the like of which can only befound in this town in Mr. Sutherland's conservatory. I remember seeingsuch a one in Miss Page's hair, early in the evening. Have you thatflower about you, Abel?"
Abel had, and being filled with importance too, showed it to the doctorand to Mr. Fenton. It was withered and faded in hue, but it wasunmistakably an orchid of the rarest description.
"It was lying near Batsy," explained Abel. "I drew Mr. Fenton'sattention to it at the time, but he scarcely noticed it."
"I will make up for my indifference now," said that gentleman.
"I should have been shown that flower," put in Knapp.
"So you should," acknowledged Sweetwater, "but when the detectiveinstinct is aroused it is hard for a man to be just to his rivals;besides, I was otherwise occupied. I had Miss Page to watch. Happily forme, you had decided that she should not be allowed to leave town tillafter the inquest, and so my task became easy. This whole day I havespent in sight of Mr. Sutherland's house, and at nightfall I wasrewarded by detecting her end a prolonged walk in the garden by ahurried dash into the woods opposite. I followed her and noted carefullyall that she did. As she had just seen Frederick Sutherland and MissHalliday disappear up the road together, she probably felt free to do asshe liked, for she walked very directly to the old tree we have justcome from, and kneeling down beside it pulled from the hole underneathsomething which rattled in her hand with that peculiar sound weassociate with fresh bank-notes. I had approached her as near as Idared, and was peering around a tree trunk, when sh
e stooped down againand plunged both hands into the hole. She remained in this position solong that I did not know what to make of it. But she rose at last andturned toward home, laughing to herself in a wicked but pleased way thatdid not tend to make me think any more of her. The moon was shining verybrightly by this time and I could readily perceive every detail of herperson. She held her hands out before her and shook them more than onceas she trod by me, so I was sure there was nothing in them, and this iswhy I was so confident we should find the money still in the hole.
"When I saw her enter the house, I set out to find you, but thecourt-house room was empty, and it was a long time before I learnedwhere to look for you. But at last a fellow at Brighton's corner said hesaw four men go by on their way to Zabel's cottage, and on the chance offinding you amongst them, I turned down here. The shock you gave me inannouncing that you had discovered the murderer of Agatha Webb knockedme over for a moment, but now I hope you realise, as I do, that thiswretched man could never have had an active hand in her death,notwithstanding the fact that one of the stolen bills has been found inhis possession. For, and here is my great point, the proof is notwanting that Miss Page visited this house as well as Mrs. Webb's duringher famous escapade; or at least stood under the window beneath which Ihave just been searching. A footprint can be seen there, sirs, a veryplain footprint, and if Dr. Talbot will take the trouble to compare itwith the slipper he holds in his hand, he will find it to have been madeby the foot that wore that slipper."
The coroner, with a quick glance from the slipper in his hand up toSweetwater's eager face, showed a decided disposition to make theexperiment thus suggested. But Mr. Fenton, whose mind was full of theZabel tragedy, interrupted them with the question:
"But how do you explain by this hypothesis the fact of James Zabeltrying to pass one of the twenty-dollar bills stolen from Mrs. Webb'scupboard? Do you consider Miss Page generous enough to give him thatmoney?"
"You ask ME that, Mr. Fenton. Do you wish to know what _I_ think of theconnection between these two great tragedies?"
"Yes; you have earned a voice in this matter; speak, Sweetwater."
"Well, then, I think Miss Page has made an effort to throw the blame ofher own misdoing on one or both of these unfortunate old men. She issufficiently cold-blooded and calculating to do so; and circumstancescertainly favoured her. Shall I show how?"
Mr. Fenton consulted Knapp, who nodded his head. The Boston detectivewas not without curiosity as to how Sweetwater would prove the case.
"Old James Zabel had seen his brother sinking rapidly from inanition;this their condition amply shows. He was weak himself, but John wasweaker, and in a moment of desperation he rushed out to ask a crumb ofbread from Agatha Webb, or possibly--for I have heard some whispers ofan old custom of theirs to join Philemon at his yearly merry-making andso obtain in a natural way the bite for himself and brother he perhapshad not the courage to ask for outright. But death had been in the Webbcottage before him, which awful circumstance, acting on his alreadyweakened nerves, drove him half insane from the house and sent himwandering blindly about the streets for a good half-hour before hereappeared in his own house. How do I know this? From a very simplefact. Abel here has been to inquire, among other things, if Mr. Craneremembers the tune we were playing at the great house when he came downthe main street from visiting old widow Walker. Fortunately he does, forthe trip, trip, trip in it struck his fancy, and he has found himselfhumming it over more than once since. Well, that waltz was played by usat a quarter after midnight, which fixes the time of the encounter atMrs. Webb's gateway pretty accurately. But, as you will soon see, it wasten minutes to one before James Zabel knocked at Loton's door. How do Iknow this? By the same method of reasoning by which I determined thetime of Mr. Crane's encounter. Mrs. Loton was greatly pleased with themusic played that night, and had all her windows open in order to hearit, and she says we were playing 'Money Musk' when that knocking came todisturb her. Now, gentlemen, we played 'Money Musk' just before we werecalled out to supper, and as we went to supper promptly at one, you cansee just how my calculation was made. Thirty-five minutes, then, passedbetween the moment James Zabel was seen rushing from Mrs. Webb's gatewayand that in which he appeared at Loton's bakery, demanding a loaf ofbread, and offering in exchange one of the bills which had been stolenfrom the murdered woman's drawer. Thirty-five minutes! And he and hisbrother were starving. Does it look, then, as if that money was in hispossession when he left Mrs. Webb's house? Would any man who felt thepangs of hunger as he did, or who saw a brother perishing for foodbefore his eyes, allow thirty-five minutes to elapse before he made useof the money that rightfully or wrongfully had come into his hand? No;and so I say that he did not have it when Mr. Crane met him. That,instead of committing crime to obtain it, he found it in his own home,lying on his table, when, after his frenzied absence, he returned totell his dreadful news to the brother he had left behind him. But howdid it come there? you ask. Gentlemen, remember the footprints under thewindow. Amabel Page brought it. Having seen or perhaps met this old manroaming in or near the Webb cottage during the time she was thereherself, she conceived the plan of throwing upon him the onus of thecrime she had herself committed, and with a slyness to be expected fromone so crafty, stole up to his home, made a hole in the shade hangingover an open window, looked into the room where John sat, saw that hewas there alone and asleep, and, creeping in by the front door, laid onthe table beside him the twenty-dollar bill and the bloody dagger withwhich she had just slain Agatha Webb. Then she stole out again, and intwenty minutes more was leading the dance in Mr. Sutherland's parlour."
"Well reasoned!" murmured Abel, expecting the others to echo him. But,though Mr. Fenton and Dr. Talbot looked almost convinced, they saidnothing, while Knapp, of course, was quiet as an oyster.
Sweetwater, with an easy smile calculated to hide his disappointment,went on as if perfectly satisfied.
"Meanwhile John awakes, sees the dagger, and thinks to end his miserywith it, but finds himself too feeble. The cut in his vest, the dent inthe floor, prove this, but if you call for further proof, a little fact,which some, if not all, of you seem to have overlooked, will amplysatisfy you that this one at least of my conclusions is correct. Openthe Bible, Abel; open it, not to shake it for what will never fall frombetween its leaves, but to find in the Bible itself the lines I havedeclared to you he wrote as a dying legacy with that tightly clutchedpencil. Have you found them?"
"No," was Abel's perplexed retort; "I cannot see any sign of writing onflyleaf or margin."
"Are those the only blank places in the sacred book? Search the leavesdevoted to the family record. Now! what do you find there?"
Knapp, who was losing some of his indifference, drew nearer and read forhimself the scrawl which now appeared to every eye on the discolouredpage which Abel here turned uppermost.
"Almost illegible," he said; "one can just make out these words:'Forgive me, James--tried to use dagger--found lying--but handwouldn't--dying without--don't grieve--true men--haven't disgracedourselves--God bless--' That is all."
"The effort must have overcome him," resumed Sweetwater in a voice fromwhich he carefully excluded all signs of secret triumph, "and when Jamesreturned, as he did a few minutes later, he was evidently unable to askquestions, even if John was in a condition to answer them. But thefallen dagger told its own story, for James picked it up and put it backon the table, and it was at this minute he saw, what John had not, thetwenty-dollar bill lying there with its promise of life and comfort.Hope revives; he catches up the bill, flies down to Loton's, procures aloaf of bread, and comes frantically back, gnawing it as he runs; forhis own hunger is more than he can endure. Re-entering his brother'spresence, he rushes forward with the bread. But the relief has come toolate; John has died in his absence; and James, dizzy with the shock,reels back and succumbs to his own misery. Gentlemen, have you anythingto say in contradiction to these various suppositions?"
For a moment Dr. Talbot, Mr. Fento
n, and even Knapp stood silent; thenthe last remarked, with pardonable dryness:
"All this is ingenious, but, unfortunately, it is up set by a littlefact which you yourself have overlooked. Have you examined attentivelythe dagger of which you have so often spoken, Mr. Sweetwater?"
"Not as I would like to, but I noticed it had blood on its edge, and wasof the shape and size necessary to inflict the wound from which Mrs.Webb died."
"Very good, but there is something else of interest to be observed onit. Fetch it, Abel."
Abel, hurrying from the room, soon brought back the weapon in question.Sweetwater, with a vague sense of disappointment disturbing him, took iteagerly and studied it very closely. But he only shook his head.
"Bring it nearer to the light," suggested Knapp, "and examine the littlescroll near the top of the handle."
Sweetwater did so, and at once changed colour. In the midst of thescroll were two very small but yet perfectly distinct letters; they wereJ. Z.
"How did Amabel Page come by a dagger marked with the Zabel initials?"questioned Knapp. "Do you think her foresight went so far as to provideherself with a dagger ostensibly belonging to one of these brothers? Andthen, have you forgotten that when Mr. Crane met the old man at Mrs.Webb's gateway he saw in his hand something that glistened? Now what wasthat, if not this dagger?"
Sweetwater was more disturbed than he cared to acknowledge.
"That just shows my lack of experience," he grumbled. "I thought I hadturned this subject so thoroughly over in my mind that no one couldbring an objection against it."
Knapp shook his head and smiled. "Young enthusiasts like yourself aregreat at forming theories which well-seasoned men like myself mustregard as fantastical. However," he went on, "there is no doubt thatMiss Page was a witness to, even if she has not profited by, the murderwe have been considering. But, with this palpable proof of the Zabels'direct connection with the affair, I would not recommend her arrest asyet."
"She should be under surveillance, though," intimated the coroner.
"Most certainly," acquiesced Knapp.
As for Sweetwater, he remained silent till the opportunity came for himto whisper apart to Dr. Talbot, when he said:
"For all the palpable proof of which Mr. Knapp speaks--the J. Z. on thedagger, and the possibility of this being the object he was seencarrying out of Philemon Webb's gate--I maintain that this old man inhis moribund condition never struck the blow that killed Agatha Webb. Hehadn't strength enough, even if his lifelong love for her had not beensufficient to prevent him."
The coroner looked thoughtful.
"You are right," said he; "he hadn't strength enough. But don't expendtoo much energy in talk. Wait and see what a few direct questions willelicit from Miss Page."