CHAPTER V.
FIVE SMALL SPANGLES.
Such an experience could not fail to emphasize Mr. Gryce's interest inthe case and heighten the determination he had formed to probe itssecrets and explain all its extraordinary features. Arrived atHeadquarters, where his presence was doubtless awaited with some anxietyby those who knew nothing of the cause of his long detention, his firstact was to inquire if Bartow, the butler, had come to his senses duringthe night.
The answer was disappointing. Not only was there no change in hiscondition, but the expert in lunacy who had been called in to pass uponhis case had expressed an opinion unfavorable to his immediate recovery.
Mr. Gryce looked sober, and, summoning the officer who had managedBartow's arrest, he asked how the mute had acted when he found himselfdetained.
The answer was curt, but very much to the point.
"Surprised, sir. Shook his head and made some queer gestures, then wentthrough his pantomime. It's quite a spectacle, sir. Poor fool, he keepsholding his hand back, so."
Mr. Gryce noted the gesture; it was the same which Bartow had made whenhe first realized that he had spectators. Its meaning was not whollyapparent. He had made it with his right hand (there was no evidence thatthe mute was left-handed), and he continued to make it as if with thismovement he expected to call attention to some fact that would relievehim from custody.
"Does he mope? Is his expression one of fear or anger?"
"It varies, sir. One minute he looks like a man on the point of fallingasleep; the next he starts up in fury, shaking his head and pounding thewalls. It's not a comfortable sight, sir. He will have to be watchednight and day."
"Let him be, and note every change in him. His testimony may not bevalid, but there is suggestion in every movement he makes. To-morrow Iwill visit him myself."
The officer went out, and Mr. Gryce sat for a few moments communing withhimself, during which he took out a little package from his pocket, andemptying out on his desk the five little spangles it contained, regardedthem intently. He had always been fond of looking at some small andseemingly insignificant object while thinking. It served to concentratehis thoughts, no doubt. At all events, some such result appeared tofollow the contemplation of these five sequins, for after shaking hishead doubtfully over them for a time, he made a sudden move, andsweeping them into the envelope from which he had taken them, he gave aglance at his watch and passed quickly into the outer office, where hepaused before a line of waiting men. Beckoning to one who had followedhis movements with an interest which had not escaped the eye of this oldreader of human nature, he led the way back to his own room.
"You want a hand in this matter?" he said interrogatively, as the doorclosed behind them and they found themselves alone.
"Oh, sir--" began the young man in a glow which made his more than plainfeatures interesting to contemplate, "I do not presume----"
"Enough!" interposed the other. "You have been here now for six months,and have had no opportunity as yet for showing any special adaptability.Now I propose to test your powers with something really difficult. Areyou up to it, Sweetwater? Do you know the city well enough to attempt tofind a needle in this very big haystack?"
"I should at least like to try," was the eager response. "If I succeedit will be a bigger feather in my cap than if I had always lived in NewYork. I have been spoiling for some such opportunity. See if I don'tmake the effort judiciously, if only out of gratitude."
"Well, we shall see," remarked the old detective. "If it's difficultyyou long to encounter, you will be likely to have all you want of it.Indeed, it is the impossible I ask. A woman is to be found of whom weknow nothing save that she wore when last seen a dress heavilybespangled with black, and that she carried in her visit to Mr. Adams,at the time of or before the murder, a parasol, of which I can procureyou a glimpse before you start out. She came from, I don't know where,and she went--but that is what you are to find out. You are not the onlyman who is to be put on the job, which, as you see, is next door to ahopeless one, unless the woman comes forward and proclaims herself.Indeed, I should despair utterly of your success if it were not for onesmall fact which I will now proceed to give you as my special andconfidential agent in this matter. When this woman was about todisappear from the one eye that was watching her, she approached thecurbstone in front of Hudson's fruit store on 14th Street and lifted upher right hand, so. It is not much of a clew, but it is all I have at mydisposal, except these five spangles dropped from her dress, and myconviction that she is not to be found among the questionable women ofthe town, but among those who seldom or never come under the eye of thepolice. Yet don't let this conviction hamper you. Convictions as a ruleare bad things, and act as a hindrance rather than an inspiration."
Sweetwater, to whom the song of the sirens would have sounded lesssweet, listened with delight and responded with a frank smile and a gay:
"I'll do my best, sir, but don't show me the parasol, only describe it.I wouldn't like the fellows to chaff me if I fail; I'd rather go quietlyto work and raise no foolish expectations."
"Well, then, it is one of those dainty, nonsensical things made of graychiffon, with pearl handle and bows of pink ribbon. I don't believe itwas ever used before, and from the value women usually place on suchfol-de-rols, could only have been left behind under the stress ofextraordinary emotion or fear. The name of the owner was not on it."
"Nor that of the maker?"
Mr. Gryce had expected this question, and was glad not to bedisappointed.
"No, that would have helped us too much."
"And the hour at which this lady was seen on the curbstone at Hudson's?"
"Half-past four; the moment at which the telephone message arrived."
"Very good, sir. It is the hardest task I have ever undertaken, butthat's not against it. When shall I see you again?"
"When you have something to impart. Ah, wait a minute. I have mysuspicion that this woman's first name is Evelyn. But, mind, it is onlya suspicion."
"All right, sir," and with an air of some confidence, the young mandisappeared.
Mr. Gryce did not look as if he shared young Sweetwater's cheerfulness.The mist surrounding this affair was as yet impenetrable to him. Butthen he was not twenty-three, with only triumphant memories behind him.
His next hope lay in the information likely to accrue from the publishedaccounts of this crime, now spread broadcast over the country. A man ofMr. Adams's wealth and culture must necessarily have possessed manyacquaintances, whom the surprising news of his sudden death wouldnaturally bring to light, especially as no secret was made of his meansand many valuable effects. But as if this affair, destined to be one ofthe last to engage the powers of this sagacious old man, refused on thisvery account to yield any immediate results to his investigation, thewhole day passed by without the appearance of any claimant for Mr.Adams's fortune or the arrival on the scene of any friend capable oflifting the veil which shrouded the life of this strange being. To besure, his banker and his lawyer came forward during the day, but theyhad little to reveal beyond the fact that his pecuniary affairs were ingood shape and that, so far as they knew, he was without family or kin.
Even his landlord could add little to the general knowledge. He hadfirst heard of Mr. Adams through a Philadelphia lawyer, since dead, whohad assured him of his client's respectability and undoubted ability topay his rent. When they came together and Mr. Adams was introduced tohim, he had been struck, first, by the ascetic appearance of hisprospective tenant, and, secondly, by his reserved manners and quietintelligence. But admirable as he had found him, he had never succeededin making his acquaintance. The rent had been uniformly paid with greatexactitude on the very day it was due, but his own visits had never beenencouraged or his advances met by anything but the cold politeness of apolished and totally indifferent man. Indeed, he had always looked uponhis tenant as a bookworm, absorbed in study and such scientificexperiments as could be carried on with no other assistance than tha
t ofhis deaf and dumb servant.
Asked if he knew anything about this servant, he answered that hisacquaintance with him was limited to the two occasions on which he hadbeen ushered by him into his master's presence; that he knew nothing ofhis character and general disposition, and could not say whether hisattitude toward his master had been one of allegiance or antagonism.
And so the way was blocked in this direction.
Taken into the room where Mr. Adams had died, he surveyed in amazementthe huge steel plate which still blocked the doorway, and the highwindows through which only a few straggling sunbeams could find theirway.
Pointing to the windows, he remarked:
"These were filled in at Mr. Adams's request. Originally they extendeddown to the wainscoting."
He was shown where lath and plaster had been introduced and also how theplate had been prepared and arranged as a barrier. But he could give noexplanation of it or divine the purpose for which it had been placedthere at so great an expense.
The lamp was another curiosity, and its varying lights the cause ofincreased astonishment. Indeed he had known nothing of thesearrangements, having been received in the parlor when he visited thehouse, where there was nothing to attract his attention or emphasize thewell-known oddities of his tenant.
He was not shown the starling. That loquacious bird had been removed topolice headquarters for the special delectation of Mr. Gryce.
Other inquiries failed also. No clew to the owner of the insignia foundon the wall could be gained at the pension office or at any of the G. A.R. posts inside the city. Nor was the name of the artist who had paintedthe portrait which adorned so large a portion of the wall a recognizedone in New York City. Otherwise a clew might have been obtained throughhim to Mr. Adams's antecedents. All the drawers and receptacles in Mr.Adams's study had been searched, but no will had been found nor anybusiness documents. It was as if this strange man had sought to suppresshis identity, or, rather, as if he had outgrown all interest in his kindor in anything beyond the walls within which he had immured himself.
Late in the afternoon reports began to come in from the varioustradesmen with whom Mr. Adams had done business. They all had somethingto say as to the peculiarity of his habits and the freaks of his muteservant. They were both described as hermits, differing from the rest oftheir kind only in that they denied themselves no reasonable luxury andseemed to have adopted a shut-in life from a pure love of seclusion. Themaster was never seen at the stores. It was the servant who made thepurchases, and this by means of gestures which were often strangelysignificant. Indeed, he seemed to have great power of expressing himselfby looks and actions, and rarely caused a mistake or made one. He wouldnot endure cheating, and always bought the best.
Of his sanity up to the day of his master's death there was no question;but more than one man with whom he had had dealings was ready to testifythat there had been a change in his manner for the past few weeks--asort of subdued excitement, quite unlike his former methodical bearing.He had shown an inclination to testiness, and was less easily pleasedthan formerly. To one clerk he had shown a nasty spirit under veryslight provocation, and was only endured in the store on account of hismaster, who was too good a customer for them to offend. Mr. Kelly, agrocer, went so far as to say he acted like a man with a grievance whoburned to vent his spite on some one, but held himself in forciblerestraint.
Perhaps if no tragedy had taken place in the house on ---- Street thesevarious persons would not have been so ready to interpret thusunfavorably a nervousness excusable enough in one so cut off from allcommunication with his kind. But with the violent end of his master inview, and his own unexplained connection with it, who could helprecalling that his glance had frequently shown malevolence?
But this was not evidence of the decided character required by the law,and Mr. Gryce was about to regard the day as a lost one, when Sweetwatermade his reappearance at Headquarters. The expression of his face putnew life into Mr. Gryce.
"What!" he cried, "you have not found her?"
Sweetwater smiled. "Don't ask me, sir, not yet. I've come to see ifthere's any reason why I should not be given the loan of that parasolfor about an hour. I'll bring it back. I only want to make a certaintest with it."
"What test, my boy? May I ask, what test?"
"Please to excuse me, sir; I have only a short time in which to actbefore respectable business houses shut up for the night, and the test Ispeak of has to be made in a respectable house."
"Then you shall not be hindered. Wait here, and I will bring you theparasol. There! bring it back soon, my boy. I have not the patience Iused to have."
"An hour, sir; give me an hour, and then----"
The shutting of the door behind his flying figure cut short hissentence.
That was a long hour to Mr. Gryce, or would have been if it had notmercifully been cut short by the return of Sweetwater in an even moreexcited state of mind than he had been before. He held the parasol inhis hand.
"My test failed," said he, "but the parasol has brought me luck,notwithstanding. I have found the lady, sir, and----"
He had to draw a long breath before proceeding.
"And she is what I said," began the detective; "a respectable person ina respectable house."
"Yes, sir; very respectable, more respectable than I expected to see.Quite a lady, sir. Not young, but----"
"Her name, boy. Is it--Evelyn?"
Sweetwater shook his head with a look as naive in its way as the olddetective's question.
"I cannot say, sir. Indeed, I had not the courage to ask. She ishere----"
"Here!" Mr. Gryce took one hurried step toward the door, then camegravely back. "I can restrain myself," he said. "If she is here, shewill not go till I have seen her. Are you sure you have made no mistake;that she is the woman we are after; the woman who was in Mr. Adams'shouse and sent us the warning?"
"Will you hear my story, sir? It will take only a moment. Then you canjudge for yourself."
"Your story? It must be a pretty one. How came you to light on thiswoman so soon? By using the clew I gave you?"
Again Sweetwater's expression took on a touch of naivete.
"I'm sorry, sir; but I was egotistical enough to follow my own idea. Itwould have taken too much time to hunt up all the drivers of hacks inthe city, and I could not even be sure she had made use of a publicconveyance. No, sir; I bethought me of another way by which I mightreach this woman. You had shown me those spangles. They were portions ofa very rich trimming; a trimming which has only lately come into vogue,and which is so expensive that it is worn chiefly by women of means, andsold only in shops where elaborate garnitures are to be found. I haveseen and noticed dresses thus trimmed, in certain windows and on certainladies; and before you showed me the spangles you picked up in Mr.Adams's study could have told you just how I had seen them arranged.They are sewed on black net, in figures, sir; in scrolls or wreaths orwhatever you choose to call them; and so conspicuous are these wreathsor figures, owing to the brilliance of the spangles composing them, thatany break in their continuity is plainly apparent, especially if the netbe worn over a color, as is frequently the case. Remembering this, andrecalling the fact that these spangles doubtless fell from one of thefront breadths, where their loss would attract not only the attention ofothers, but that of the wearer, I said to myself, 'What will she belikely to do when she finds her dress thus disfigured?' And the answerat once came: 'If she is the lady Mr. Gryce considers her, she will seekto restore these missing spangles, especially if they were lost on ascene of crime. But where can she get them to sew on? From an extrapiece of net of the same style. But she will not be apt to have an extrapiece of net. She will, therefore, find herself obliged to buy it, andsince only a few spangles are lacking, she will buy the veriest strip.'Here, then, was my clew, or at least my ground for action. Going therounds of the few leading stores on Broadway, 23d Street, and SixthAvenue, I succeeded in getting certain clerks interested in my efforts,so that I s
peedily became assured that if a lady came into these storesfor a very small portion of this bespangled net, they would note herperson and, if possible, procure some clew to her address. Then I tookup my stand at Arnold's emporium. Why Arnold's? I do not know. Perhapsmy good genius meant me to be successful in this quest; but whetherthrough luck or what not, I was successful, for before the afternoon washalf over, I encountered a meaning glance from one of the men behind thecounter, and advancing toward him, saw him rolling a small package whichhe handed over to a very pretty and rosy young girl, who at once walkedaway with it. 'For one of our leading customers,' he whispered, as Idrew nearer. 'I don't think she is the person you want.' But I wouldtake no chances. I followed the young girl who had carried away theparcel, and by this means came to a fine brownstone front in one of ourmost retired and aristocratic quarters. When I had seen her go in at thebasement door, I rang the bell above, and then--well, I just bit my lipsto keep down my growing excitement. For such an effort as this mightwell end in disappointment, and I knew if I were disappointed now--Butno such trial awaited me. The maid who came to the door proved to be thesame merry-eyed lass I had seen leave the store. Indeed, she had theidentical parcel in her hand which was the connecting link between theimposing house at whose door I stood and the strange murder in ----Street. But I did not allow my interest in this parcel to becomeapparent, and by the time I addressed her I had so mastered myself as toarouse no suspicion of the importance of my errand. You, of course,foresee the question I put to the young girl. 'Has your mistress lost aparasol? One has been found--' I did not finish the sentence, for Iperceived by her look that her mistress had met with such a loss, and asthis was all I wanted to know just then, I cried out, 'I will bring it.If it is hers, all right,' and bounded down the steps.
"My intention was to inform you of what I had done and ask your advice.But my egotism got the better of me. I felt that I ought to make surethat I was not the victim of a coincidence. Such a respectable house!Such a respectable maidservant! Should she recognize the parasol asbelonging to her mistress, then, indeed, I might boast of my success. Sopraying you for a loan of this article, I went back and rang the bellagain. The same girl came to the door. I think fortune favored meto-day. 'Here is the parasol,' said I, but before the words were out ofmy mouth I saw that the girl had taken the alarm or that some grievousmistake had been made. 'That is not the one my mistress lost,' said she.'She never carries anything but black.' And the door was about to closebetween us when I heard a voice from within call out peremptorily: 'Letme see that parasol. Hold it up, young man. There! at the foot of thestairs. Ah!'
"If ever an exclamation was eloquent that simple 'ah!' was. I could notsee the speaker, but I knew she was leaning over the banisters from thelanding above. I listened to hear her glide away. But she did not move.She was evidently collecting herself for the emergency of the moment.Presently she spoke again, and I was astonished at her tone: 'You havecome from Police Headquarters,' was the remark with which she hailed me.
"I lowered the parasol. I did not think it necessary to say yes.
"'From a man there, called Gryce,' she went on, still in that strangetone I can hardly describe, sir.
"'Since you ask me,' I now replied, 'I acknowledge that it is throughhis instructions I am here. He was anxious to restore to you your lostproperty. Is not this parasol yours? Shall I not leave it with thisyoung girl?'
"The answer was dry, almost rasping: 'Mr. Gryce has made a mistake. Theparasol is not mine; yet he certainly deserves credit for the use he hasmade of it, in this search. I should like to tell him so. Is he at hisoffice, and do you think I would be received?'
"'He would be delighted,' I returned, not imagining she was in earnest.But she was, sir. In less time than you would believe, I perceived avery stately, almost severe, lady descend the stairs. She was dressedfor the street, and spoke to me with quite an air of command. 'Have youa cab?' she asked.
"'No,' said I.
"'Then get one.'
"Here was a dilemma. Should I leave her and thus give her an opportunityto escape, or should I trust to her integrity and the honesty of herlook, which was no common one, sir, and obey her as every one about herwas evidently accustomed to do?
"I concluded to trust to her integrity, and went for the cab. But it wasa risk, sir, which I promise not to repeat in the future. She wasawaiting me on the stoop when I got back, and at once entered the hackwith a command to drive immediately to Police Headquarters. I saw her asI came in just now sitting in the outer office, waiting for you. Are youready to say I have done well?"
Mr. Gryce, with an indescribable look of mingled envy and indulgence,pressed the hand held out to him, and passed out. His curiosity could berestrained no longer, and he went at once to where this mysterious womanwas awaiting him. Did he think it odd that she knew him, that she soughthim? If so, he did not betray this in his manner, which was one of greatrespect. But that manner suddenly changed as he came face to face withthe lady in question. Not that it lost its respect, but that it betrayedan astonishment of a more pronounced character than was usually indulgedin by this experienced detective. The lady before him was one well knownto him; in fact, almost an associate of his in certain bygone matters;in other words, none other than that most reputable of ladies, MissAmelia Butterworth of Gramercy Park.