CHAPTER VI
ASHTON-KIRK ASKS QUESTIONS
Ashton-Kirk dismissed his car in front of a restaurant in the center ofthe city; he and his friend had luncheon in a quiet corner, then lightedcigars and smoked while they sipped their coffee.
"This is the second little matter I've had to put up to you," said BatScanlon. "I hope it won't grow into a habit."
"If it has any of the entertaining qualities of the other case," smiledthe investigator, "I shall be greatly beholden to you."
Bat shook his head, and watched a cloud of white, thin smoke vanish inthe air.
"That hardly seems likely," said he. "Stanwick ain't the place formystery that Warwick Furnace was; and on the face of it, anyway, 620Duncan Street can't touch Castle Schwartzberg for thrills. Beside that,the Campe affair[1] just sizzled with stuff, while this one, like asnot, is finished already."
Ashton-Kirk smiled, and drew slowly at his cigar; this latter had aspicy tang, a flavor which suggested hot suns and heavy dews; the tastewas rich, and the effect heady.
"Here is a cigar," said he, "which has all the flavor and shock of aricher looking and more suggestive leaf." He indicated the rathernegative wrapper, and went on: "As you see, it hasn't any of that lushdarkness which one usually associates with potent tobacco. And allbecause the wrapper was grown in Pennsylvania; for a casual inspectiontells nothing of the tropical growth within."
"All of which is meant to mean----?" and Bat Scanlon looked at hisfriend inquiringly.
"That one must not be too hasty in judging a thing by its externals. TheCampe case was surrounded by a sort of natural melodrama; the gloomyhills, which appear to have impressed Miss Cavanaugh, the huge bulk ofSchwartzberg Castle, the unaccountable messages, and unknown agenciesall led one to expect something unusual. In this present affair,however, the stage settings are not nearly so sensational; and yet,"here the singular eyes of the investigator were fixed upon Scanlonintently, "who knows? Unlooked-for results may not be lacking."
"Why--do you mean to say----?" Scanlon began the question in a voicepitched in the key of sudden surprise; but the other stopped him beforehe could finish.
"As I said a while ago, at Stanwick," remarked Ashton-Kirk, "it is notyet time to declare anything. Just now we are picking up what facts andsuggestions we can; later we'll try fitting them together." He drew outhis watch and looked at it. "Two-thirty," he said. "Miss Cavanaugh musthave started for Stanwick before this; so suppose we go now for ourcall."
Scanlon made a wry face as he arose.
"I don't like calling," spoke he, "and I especially don't like this one.When I was deputy marshall out in the Gunnison country I once made acall at the house of a gentleman who had locked himself up with a barrelof ammunition and a half dozen Winchesters, and bid defiance to the law.It was no soft job, but I'd rather do it again, than this."
"I think you are a little thin-skinned in the matter," spokeAshton-Kirk. "Miss Cavanaugh is extremely anxious to go further intothis case, and has asked our help. As I see it we can greatly increaseour chances of success by this visit; and we'll also save her theanxiety of seeing us prowling around."
It was about a half hour's walk to Nora Cavanaugh's house; and when theyrang the bell the same trim maid opened the door.
"Is Miss Cavanaugh at home?" inquired Ashton-Kirk.
"No, sir," replied the maid. "She went out about a half hour ago."
"I'm sorry," said the investigator, a look of vexation upon his face."However, I suppose, though, it makes no difference. You recall whatMiss Cavanaugh said to you when we were here yesterday."
"Oh, yes, sir; very well."
"Excellent!" said Ashton-Kirk. "And, now, we'd like to ask you a fewquestions, if you please."
The girl admitted them to a bright old reception room; the investigatorlaid his hat and stick upon a table.
"It was you who admitted Mr. Burton the last time he was here, was itnot?"
"I opened the door for him, yes, sir. And he pushed by me."
"I see. How long had it been since his previous visit?"
"I'm not sure; but some time."
"What sort of a temper was he in?"
"He was always disagreeable, sir; but he was real nasty that night. Hepushed me aside as if I was nothing at all."
The black eyes of the maid flashed at the recollection.
"I suppose you attend Miss Cavanaugh at the theatre as well as athome?"
"Oh, yes; she has no other maid."
Ashton-Kirk smiled and shook his finger at the girl.
"Then it was you who left the door of a cabinet open in thedressing-room and so caused that little accident."
"An accident!" The girl looked at him surprisedly. "I don't think I knowjust what you mean."
"Oh, well, never mind," said the investigator, carelessly. "A littlemistake of mine, no doubt."
There was a vague sort of trouble in the face of Bat Scanlon; hesmoothed his chin with one big hand, and shifted his weight uneasilyfrom one foot to the other.
"And now," said Ashton-Kirk, to the maid, "when Burton pushed past youthat night, where did he go?"
"He went to Miss Cavanaugh's rooms, sir."
"And just _how_ did he go? Take us to the rooms just as he went."
The girl led the way into the hall once more.
"When he passed me," she said, "he ran up those stairs," pointing. "Atfirst I didn't know what to do, but I followed him. He went into MissCavanaugh's room"--they had reached the second floor by this time, andthe girl pointed to a door--"without ever knocking."
"Is that all?"
"Yes, sir; except that about fifteen minutes later he left the house."
"Very well. And now, if we may, we'd like to see the inside of MissCavanaugh's rooms."
The trim little maid seemed surprised at this; however, she had herinstructions, and so did not hesitate. She opened the door, stood asidefor them to enter, and then followed them in. It was Nora'sdressing-room, a place of soft colors, of cool aloofness, and as BatScanlon breathed the air of it, with its delicate suggestion of scent,he had a feeling that he was venturing too far; he felt that his act wasalmost profanation. Through an open door at one end he caught a glimpseof a white bed; but it was only a glimpse, for after that he kept hishead turned resolutely in another direction.
But not so with Ashton-Kirk; only one idea held his mind; his singulareyes studied the room with the eagerness of an ancient scholar poringover his scrolls.
"Miss Cavanaugh wears some handsome diamonds in the play in which she isnow appearing," said he, suddenly, to the maid.
"Oh, yes, sir; beautiful. And real ones, too."
Ashton-Kirk smiled.
"And the more real they are, the more reason why she shouldn't permitthem to lie about like that," said he, pointing to a stand, upon whichrested a handsome jewel case. "And more especially when I see ascaffolding just outside the window which would make entrance for athief rather easy."
"It's perfectly all right," she said; "there's no danger, sir." Sheopened the jewel case, showing it to be empty. "Miss Cavanaugh has putall her jewels in a bank vault."
"That must have been recently," said the investigator, his brows atrifle raised.
"Only yesterday. She made up her mind about it very suddenly."
A look which Bat Scanlon could not interpret shot across Ashton-Kirk'sface; a tune was upon his lips as he prowled, hands deep in his trouserspockets, up and down the room, his keen eyes missing nothing. At lengthhe paused and looked at the maid once more.
"I have always admired the manner in which Miss Cavanaugh has her hairarranged," said he. "Do you do that?"
"Usually, sir," said the maid. "But," with a little shadow upon herface, "I don't think _she_ cares for my work, sir. She has refused tohave me touch her hair for the last few mornings."
"Too bad," said the investigator. "Too bad!"
Once more he began walking about the room. At a window he halted andlooked out; the scaffolding erected by the w
orkmen, who had apparentlybeen engaged in "pointing" the wall, ran sheer to the roof. Scanlon wentto the investigator's side, and also looked out.
"Quite a job to hang one of these things," said the big man. "As fewmaterials as you can do with, and all the strength you can get."
Ashton-Kirk, without a word of warning, climbed out upon the foot-planksunder the window and then to Scanlon's amazement, he dropped upon hisknees.
"Evening prayer or something, I suppose," said the big trainer. "But whythe hurry? It's some hours till sundown."
The investigator picked at some particles of mortar adhering to theplanks with the blade of a knife.
"The idea of cements and mortars always fascinated me," said he; "theircold persistency, their determination to outdo nature, their ability tojoin things foreign to each other, is admirable. There is quite aliterature on the subject, and many men have given a great deal of studyto the improvement of these most necessary agents."
Beside the knife blade he also had resort to the pocket lens whichScanlon had seen him use at Stanwick; then after he had slipped afragment of the hardened mortar into a fold of his pocketbook, hereentered the room. And as he did so, Bat Scanlon once more saw the lookin his face which he had seen a few moments before, and which he hadfailed to interpret.
"What next?" said the big man, rather helplessly, for the expression wasas mystifying now as before.
"That will be all, I think," said the investigator, cheerfully. "Thankyou," to the maid, as she led the way down the stairs. And as she openedthe street door for them, he added: "Please say to Miss Cavanaugh thatwe are extremely obliged to her; and that our call has been far fromwasted, even though we were unfortunate enough to come when she wasout."
FOOTNOTES:
[1] For the details of the Campe case, see the volume entitled:"Ashton Kirk, Special Detective."