Mr. Van Burnam and his sons had gone through the formality of a supperand were conversing in the haphazard way natural to men filled with asubject they dare not discuss, when the door opened and Mr. Gryce camein.
Advancing very calmly, he addressed himself to the father:
"I am sorry," said he, "to be obliged to inform you that this affair ismuch more serious than we anticipated. This young woman was dead beforethe shelves laden with _bric-a-brac_ fell upon her. It is a case ofmurder; obviously so, or I should not presume to forestall the Coroner'sjury in their verdict."
Murder! it is a word to shake the stoutest heart!
The older gentleman reeled as he half rose, and Franklin, his son,betrayed in his own way an almost equal amount of emotion. But Howard,shrugging his shoulders as if relieved of an immense weight, lookedabout with a cheerful air, and briskly cried:
"Then it is not the body of my wife you have there. No one would murderLouise. I shall go away and prove the truth of my words by hunting herup at once."
The detective opened the door, beckoned in the doctor, who whisperedtwo or three words into Howard's ear.
They failed to awake the emotion he evidently expected. Howard lookedsurprised, but answered without any change of voice:
"Yes, Louise had such a scar; and if it is true that this woman issimilarly marked, then it is a mere coincidence. Nothing will convinceme that my wife has been the victim of murder."
"Had you not better take a look at the scar just mentioned?"
"No. I am so sure of what I say that I will not even consider thepossibility of my being mistaken. I have examined the clothing on thisbody you have shown me, and not one article of it came from my wife'swardrobe; nor would my wife go, as you have informed me this woman did,into a dark house at night with any other man than her husband."
"And so you absolutely refuse to acknowledge her."
"Most certainly."
The detective paused, glanced at the troubled faces of the other twogentlemen, faces that had not perceptibly altered during thesedeclarations, and suggestively remarked:
"You have not asked by what means she was killed."
"And I don't care," shouted Howard.
"It was by very peculiar means, also new in my experience."
"It does not interest me," the other retorted.
Mr. Gryce turned to his father and brother.
"Does it interest _you_?" he asked.
The old gentleman, ordinarily so testy and so peremptory, silentlynodded his head, while Franklin cried:
"Speak up quick. You detectives hesitate so over the disagreeables. Wasshe throttled or stabbed with a knife?"
"I have said the means were peculiar. She was stabbed, but not--with aknife."
I know Mr. Gryce well enough now to be sure that he did not glancetowards Howard while saying this, and yet at the same time that he didnot miss the quiver of a muscle on his part or the motion of an eyelash.But Howard's assumed _sang froid_ remained undisturbed and hiscountenance imperturbable.
"The wound was so small," the detective went on, "that it is a miracleit did not escape notice. It was made by the thrust of some very slenderinstrument through----"
"The heart?" put in Franklin.
"Of course, of course," assented the detective; "what other spot isvulnerable enough to cause death?"
"Is there any reason why we should not go?" demanded Howard, ignoringthe extreme interest manifested by the other two, with a determinationthat showed great doggedness of character.
The detective ignored _him_.
"A quick stroke, a sure stroke, a fatal stroke. The girl never breathedafter."
"But what of those things under which she lay crushed?"
"Ah, in them lies the mystery! Her assailant must have been as subtle ashe was sure."
And still Howard showed no interest.
"I wish to telegraph to Haddam," he declared, as no one answered thelast remark. Haddam was the place where he and his wife had beenspending the summer.
"We have already telegraphed there," observed Mr. Gryce. "Your wife hasnot yet returned."
"There are other places," defiantly insisted the other. "I can find herif you give me the opportunity."
Mr. Gryce bowed.
"I am to give orders, then, for this body to be removed to the Morgue."
It was an unexpected suggestion, and for an instant Howard showed thathe had feelings with the best. But he quickly recovered himself, andavoiding the anxious glances of his father and brother, answered withoffensive lightness:
"I have nothing to do with that. You must do as you think proper."
And Mr. Gryce felt that he had received a check, and did not knowwhether to admire the young man for his nerve or to execrate him for hisbrutality. That the woman whom he had thus carelessly dismissed to theignominy of the public gaze was his wife, the detective did not doubt.