CHAPTER XIX
CONCERNING THOMAS
"Mr. Jamieson," I said, when we found ourselves alone after dinner thatnight, "the inquest yesterday seemed to me the merest recapitulation ofthings that were already known. It developed nothing new beyond thestory of Doctor Stewart's, and that was volunteered."
"An inquest is only a necessary formality, Miss Innes," he replied."Unless a crime is committed in the open, the inquest does nothingbeyond getting evidence from witnesses while events are still in theirminds. The police step in later. You and I both know how manyimportant things never transpired. For instance: the dead man had nokey, and yet Miss Gertrude testified to a fumbling at the lock, andthen the opening of the door. The piece of evidence you mention,Doctor Stewart's story, is one of those things we have to takecautiously: the doctor has a patient who wears black and does not raiseher veil. Why, it is the typical mysterious lady! Then the good doctorcomes across Arnold Armstrong, who was a graceless scamp--demortuis--what's the rest of it?--and he is quarreling with a lady inblack. Behold, says the doctor, they are one and the same."
"Why was Mr. Bailey not present at the inquest?"
The detective's expression was peculiar.
"Because his physician testified that he is ill, and unable to leavehis bed."
"Ill!" I exclaimed. "Why, neither Halsey nor Gertrude has told methat."
"There are more things than that, Miss Innes, that are puzzling. Baileygives the impression that he knew nothing of the crash at the bankuntil he read it in the paper Monday night, and that he went back andsurrendered himself immediately. I do not believe it. Jonas, thewatchman at the Traders' Bank, tells a different story. He says thaton the Thursday night before, about eight-thirty, Bailey went back tothe bank. Jonas admitted him, and he says the cashier was in a statealmost of collapse. Bailey worked until midnight, then he closed thevault and went away. The occurrence was so unusual that the watchmanpondered over it an the rest of the night. What did Bailey do when hewent back to the Knickerbocker apartments that night? He packed asuit-case ready for instant departure. But he held off too long; hewaited for something. My personal opinion is that he waited to seeMiss Gertrude before flying from the country. Then, when he had shotdown Arnold Armstrong that night, he had to choose between two evils.He did the thing that would immediately turn public opinion in hisfavor, and surrendered himself, as an innocent man. The strongestthing against him is his preparation for flight, and his deciding tocome back after the murder of Arnold Armstrong. He was shrewd enoughto disarm suspicion as to the graver charge?"
The evening dragged along slowly. Mrs. Watson came to my bedroombefore I went to bed and asked if I had any arnica. She showed me abadly swollen hand, with reddish streaks running toward the elbow; shesaid it was the hand she had hurt the night of the murder a weekbefore, and that she had not slept well since. It looked to me as ifit might be serious, and I told her to let Doctor Stewart see it.
The next morning Mrs. Watson went up to town on the eleven train, andwas admitted to the Charity Hospital. She was suffering fromblood-poisoning. I fully meant to go up and see her there, but otherthings drove her entirely from my mind. I telephoned to the hospitalthat day, however, and ordered a private room for her, and whatevercomforts she might be allowed.
Mrs. Armstrong arrived Monday evening with her husband's body, and theservices were set for the next day. The house on Chestnut Street, intown, had been opened, and Tuesday morning Louise left us to go home.She sent for me before she went, and I saw she had been crying.
"How can I thank you, Miss Innes?" she said. "You have taken me onfaith, and--you have not asked me any questions. Some time, perhaps, Ican tell you; and when that time comes, you will all despiseme,--Halsey, too."
I tried to tell her how glad I was to have had her but there wassomething else she wanted to say. She said it finally, when she hadbade a constrained good-by to Halsey and the car was waiting at thedoor.
"Miss Innes," she said in a low tone, "if they--if there is any attemptmade to--to have you give up the house, do it, if you possibly can. Iam afraid--to have you stay."
That was all. Gertrude went into town with her and saw her safelyhome. She reported a decided coolness in the greeting between Louiseand her mother, and that Doctor Walker was there, apparently in chargeof the arrangements for the funeral. Halsey disappeared shortly afterLouise left and came home about nine that night, muddy and tired. Asfor Thomas, he went around dejected and sad, and I saw the detectivewatching him closely at dinner. Even now I wonder--what did Thomasknow? What did he suspect?
At ten o'clock the household had settled down for the night. Liddy, whowas taking Mrs. Watson's place, had finished examining the tea-towelsand the corners of the shelves in the cooling-room, and had gone tobed. Alex, the gardener, had gone heavily up the circular staircase tohis room, and Mr. Jamieson was examining the locks of the windows.Halsey dropped into a chair in the living-room, and stared moodilyahead. Once he roused.
"What sort of a looking chap is that Walker, Gertrude?" he asked!
"Rather tall, very dark, smooth-shaven. Not bad looking," Gertrudesaid, putting down the book she had been pretending to read. Halseykicked a taboret viciously.
"Lovely place this village must be in the winter," he saidirrelevantly. "A girl would be buried alive here."
It was then some one rapped at the knocker on the heavy front door.Halsey got up leisurely and opened it, admitting Warner. He was out ofbreath from running, and he looked half abashed.
"I am sorry to disturb you," he said. "But I didn't know what else todo. It's about Thomas."
"What about Thomas?" I asked. Mr. Jamieson had come into the hall andwe all stared at Warner.
"He's acting queer," Warner explained. "He's sitting down there on theedge of the porch, and he says he has seen a ghost. The old man looksbad, too; he can scarcely speak."
"He's as full of superstition as an egg is of meat," I said. "Halsey,bring some whisky and we will all go down."
No one moved to get the whisky, from which I judged there were threepocket flasks ready for emergency. Gertrude threw a shawl around myshoulders, and we all started down over the hill: I had made so manynocturnal excursions around the place that I knew my way perfectly.But Thomas was not on the veranda, nor was he inside the house. Themen exchanged significant glances, and Warner got a lantern.
"He can't have gone far," he said. "He was trembling so that hecouldn't stand, when I left."
Jamieson and Halsey together made the round of the lodge, occasionallycalling the old man by name. But there was no response. No Thomascame, bowing and showing his white teeth through the darkness. I beganto be vaguely uneasy, for the first time. Gertrude, who was nevernervous in the dark, went alone down the drive to the gate, and stoodthere, looking along the yellowish line of the road, while I waited onthe tiny veranda.
Warner was puzzled. He came around to the edge of the veranda andstood looking at it as if it ought to know and explain.
"He might have stumbled into the house," he said, "but he could nothave climbed the stairs. Anyhow, he's not inside or outside, that Ican see." The other members of the party had come back now, and no onehad found any trace of the old man. His pipe, still warm, rested onthe edge of the rail, and inside on the table his old gray hat showedthat its owner had not gone far.
He was not far, after all. From the table my eyes traveled around theroom, and stopped at the door of a closet. I hardly know what impulsemoved me, but I went in and turned the knob. It burst open with theimpetus of a weight behind it, and something fell partly forward in aheap on the floor. It was Thomas--Thomas without a mark of injury onhim, and dead.