CHAPTER V
DOWNING'S EVIDENCE
And so the case went to the coroner's jury. And after some discussionthey returned the inevitable verdict of murder by person or personsunknown. Some of them preferred the phrase, "causes unknown." But otherspointed out that the physical causes of Mrs. Pell's death were only tooevident; the question was: Who was the perpetrator of the ghastly deed?
And so the foreman somewhat importantly announced that the deceased mether death at the hands of persons unknown, and in most mysterious andinexplicable circumstances, but recommended that every possible effortbe made to trace any connection that might exist between the tragedy andthe heirs to the fortune of the deceased.
A distinct murmur of disapproval sounded through the room, yet therewere those who wagged assenting heads.
The inquest had been a haphazard affair in some ways. Berrien waspossessed of only a limited police force, and its head, Inspector Clare,was a man whose knowledge of police matters consisted of an educationbeyond his intelligence. Moreover, the case itself was so weirdlytragic, so out of all reason or belief, that the whole force was at itswits' end. The bluecoats at the doors of Pellbrook were as interested inthe village gossip as the villagers themselves. And though entrance wasmade difficult, most of the influential members of the community wereassembled to hear the inquiry into this strange matter.
There were so few material witnesses, those who were questioned knew solittle, and, more than all, the mystery of the murder in the locked roomwas so baffling, that there was, of course, no possibility of other thanan open verdict.
"It's all very well," said the inspector, pompously, "to bring in thatverdict. Yes, that's all very well. But the murderers must be found. Acrime like this must not go unpunished. It's mysterious, of course, butthe truth must be ferreted out. We're only at the beginning. There ismuch to be learned beside the meager evidence we have alreadycollected."
The mass of people had broken up into small groups, all of whom wereconfabbing with energy. There were several strangers present, for thestartling details of the case, as reported in the city papers, hadbrought a number of curious visitors from the metropolis.
One of these, a quiet-mannered, middle-aged man, edged nearer to wherethe inspector was talking to Bannard and Iris Clyde. Hughes waslistening, also Mr. Bowen and Mr. Chapin.
"It's this way," the inspector was saying, in his unpolished manner ofspeech, "we've got her alive at three, talking to her niece, and we'vegot her dying at half-past three, and calling for help. Between thesetwo stated times, the murderer attacked her, manhandled her prettyseverely and flung her down to her death, besides ransacking the room,and stealing nobody knows what or how much. Seems to me a remarkableaffair like that ought to be easier to get at than a simple everydayrobbery."
"It ought to be, I think, too," said the stranger, in a mild, pleasantvoice. "May I ask how you're going about it?"
"Who are you, sir?" asked Clare. "You got any right here? A reporter?"
"No, not a reporter. An humble citizen of New York city, not connectedwith the police force in any way. But I'm interested in this mystery,and I judge you have in mind some definite plan to work on."
Mollified, even flattered at the man's evident faith in him, theinspector replied, "Yes, sir, yes, I may say I have. Perhaps not forimmediate disclosure, no, not that, but I have a pretty strong beliefthat we'll yet round up the villains----"
"You assume more than one person, then?"
"I think so, yes, I may say I think so. But that's of little moment. Ifwe can run down the clues we have, if we can follow their pointingfingers, we shall know the criminal, and learn whether or not he hadaccomplices in his vile work."
"Quite so," and with a smile and a nod, the stranger drifted away.
Another man came near, then, and frankly introduced himself as JoeYoung, from a nearby town, saying he wanted to be allowed to examine thewall-safe said to have been rifled by the murderer.
"My father built that safe," he explained his interest, "and I think itmight lead to some further enlightenment."
Detective Hughes accompanied Young to the closed room that had been Mrs.Pell's sanctum, and they entered alone.
"Don't touch things," cautioned Hughes. "I've not really had a chanceyet to go over the place with a fine tooth comb. They've taken the poorlady's body away, but otherwise nothing's been touched----"
"Oh, I won't touch anything," agreed Young, "but I couldn't help a sortof a notion that my father might have built more than a safe--he was askilful carpenter and joiner, and Mrs. Pell was a tricky woman. I meanby that, she was mighty fond of tricking people and she easily couldhave had a secret cupboard, or even an entrance from somewhere behindthat safe."
But no amount of searching could discover the slightest possibility ofsuch a thing. The open safe was an ordinary, built-in-the-wall affair,not large enough to suggest an entrance for a person. Nor was there anysecret compartment behind it or anything other than showed on thesurface. The door, when closed, had been covered by a picture, which hadbeen taken down and flung on the floor. The safe was absolutely empty,and no one knew what it had contained.
Young was decidedly disappointed. "I had no personal motive in lookingthis thing up," he said, "I only hoped that my knowledge of my father'sclever work might lead to some discovery that would prove helpful to youdetectives or to the family. But it's plain to be seen there's nohocus-pocus about this thing. It's as simple a safe as I ever saw.Nothing, in fact, but a concealed cupboard with a combination lock.Wonder who opened it? The murderer?"
"I don't think so," rejoined Hughes. "I think the intruder, whoever hewas, compelled the old lady to open it for him."
"You stick to the masculine gender, I see, in your assumptions."
"I do. I don't think for a minute that Miss Clyde is involved."
"But her room is just above this----"
"Oh, that's what you're after! A secret connection between this room andMiss Clyde's by way of the safe!"
"Yes, that's what I had in mind. But there's not the slightestpossibility of it, is there?"
"No, not any other secret passage of any sort or kind. Oh, I'veinvestigated fully in that respect. I meant, I haven't searched for tinyclues and little scraps of evidence. Straws, in fact, do show which waythe wind blows."
"Well, I don't suppose I can be of any help, but if I can, call on me. Ilive in East Fallville, only twelve miles away, and I'd like nothingbetter than to dig into this mystery, if I'm wanted."
"Thank you, Mr. Young, I appreciate your helpful spirit, and I'll callon you if it's available. But I don't mind owning up that we have morepeople to look into this matter than directions in which to look. As youmay imagine, it's a baffling thing to get hold of. I confess I hardlyknow which way to turn."
As the two men returned to the living room, Hughes overheard some angrywords between Bannard and Roger Downing, one of the dwellers in thevillage.
"But I saw you," Downing was saying.
"You think you did," returned Bannard, "but you're mistaken."
"When?" asked Hughes, suddenly and sharply, of Downing.
"Sunday about noon. Win Bannard was skulking around in the woods justback of this house----"
"Skulking! Take back that word!" cried Bannard.
"Well, you were sauntering around, then, dawdling around, whatever youwant it called, but you were there!"
"I was not," declared Bannard.
"And I saw your little motor car waiting for you a bit farther along theroad----"
"You did!" and Bannard laughed shortly, "well, as it happens I don't owna motor car!"
"Nonsense, Roger," said Hughes, "Win Bannard wasn't up here Sundaynoon--where would he have been concealed until three o'clock----"
"In his aunt's room----"
"Take that back!" shouted Bannard, "do you know what you're saying?"
"Hush up, both of you," cautioned Hughes. "For Heaven's sake don't getup a scene over nothing! But, if you saw a smal
l motor car along theroad near here, I want to know about it. What time was this, Downing?"
"'Long about noon, I tell you," was the sulky reply. "It might have beena few minutes before. There was no one in the car; it was drawn up bythe side of the road, not more'n two hundred yards from the house."
"And you thought you saw Mr. Bannard. Of course, it was someone else,but it's important to know about this. I can't help thinking whoevercommitted that murder was hidden in the room for some timebeforehand----"
"And how did he get away?" asked Bannard.
"If you ask me that once more, I'll pound you! I don't _know_ how he gotaway. But he did get away, and we'll find out how, when we find our man.That's my theory of procedure, if you want to know; let the mystery ofthe locked room wait, and devote all possible effort to finding themurderer. Then the rest will unravel itself."
"Easier said than done," sneered Downing, "if you're going to discardall evidence or statements that anyone makes to you!"
"If you were so sure you saw Mr. Bannard on Sunday morning, why didn'tyou so state at the inquest?"
"I wasn't asked, and besides 'twas about noon, and old Timken only askedabout the afternoon----"
"And besides," broke in Bannard, "you weren't sure you did see me, andyou weren't sure you saw anybody, and you made up this whole yarn,anyhow!"
"Nothing of the sort, and you'll find out, Win Bannard, when I tell allI know----"
"Quit it now," ordered Hughes; "if you've anything to tell of realimportance, Roger, tell it to me when we're alone. Don't sing out yourinformation all over the place."
"You're going straight ahead with your investigations, then?" Bannardasked of the detective.
"Yes, but we can't do much till after the funeral, and----"
"And what?"
"And after the reading of the will. You know motive is a strong factorin unraveling a murder case. Why, s'pose some of the servants receivelarge legacies; and you know how queer Mrs. Pell was--she might wellleave a fortune to those Purdys."
"Oh, they didn't do it," and Bannard tossed off the idea as absurd.
"You don't know. Leaving out, as I said before, the question of how thevillain got in or out, it might easily have been one or more of theservants. And other help is hired beside the regular house crowd. Takeit from me, it was somebody in the house, and not an intruder fromoutside."
"And take it from me, you don't know what you're talking about," saidRoger Downing, as he angrily stalked away.
Bannard had said very little to Iris since his coming to Pellbrook, buthe now sought her out, and asked her what she thought about the wholematter.
"I don't know what to think," Iris replied to his question, "but I don'tknow as it matters so much about solving the mystery. Poor Aunt Ursulais dead, she was killed, but I don't see how we can find out who did it.I think, Win, it must have been somebody we don't know about--say,someone connected with her early life--you know, she has had a more orless varied career."
"How do you mean? She lived here very quietly."
"Yes, but before she came here. Before we knew her, even before we wereborn. And then, her jewels. Nobody ever owned a splendid collection ofjewels but what they were beset by robbers and burglars to get thetreasure."
"Then you think it an ordinary jewel robbery?"
"Not ordinary! Far from that! But I can't help thinking that was whatthe thieves were after. Why, you know her jewels are world famous."
"What do you mean by world famous?"
"Well, maybe not that, but well known among jewelers and jewelcollectors. So they would, of course, be known to professional jewelthieves."
"That's so. Where are they anyway?"
"The thieves?"
"No; the jewels."
"I haven't the least idea----"
"Haven't you? Honestly!"
"Indeed, I haven't."
"I don't believe you."
"Why, Win Bannard, what do you mean!"
"Oh, I oughtn't to say that, but truly, Iris, I supposed of course youknew where Aunt Ursula kept 'em."
"Well, I don't. I've not the slightest notion of her hiding place."
"Hiding place! Aren't they in a safe deposit, or something of thatsort?"
"They may be, but I don't think so. But it will be told in the will. Mr.Chapin is so ridiculously secretive about the will! Sometimes I thinkshe may have left them all to someone else after all."
"Someone else?"
"Yes, someone besides us. I think, don't you, that we ought to be herprincipal heirs? But she promised me, always, her wonderful diamondpin."
"Huh! I don't think one diamond pin so much! Why, she has----"
"I know, but she always spoke of this particular diamond pin that shedestined for me as something especially valuable. I expect it is a sortof Kohinoor."
"Oh, I didn't know about that. And what is she going to leave me, tomatch up to that?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. But we sound very mercenary, talking like this,before the poor lady is even buried."
"To be honest, Iris, I'm terribly sorry for the way the poor thing waskilled, but I can't grieve very deeply, unless I'm a hypocrite. As youknow, Aunt Ursula and I weren't good friends----"
"Who could be friends with Aunt Ursula? I tried my best, Win, my verybest, but she was too trying to live with! You've no idea what I wentthrough!"
"Oh, yes, I've an idea. I lived with her some years myself. Well, we'llsay nothing but good of her now she's gone. I say, Iris, let's take awalk down to the village and see Browne, the jeweler."
"What for?"
"Ask him about her jewels."
"Oh, no, I think that would be horrid. You go, if you like. I shan't."
But Iris went out on the verandah with Bannard, and they ran into SamTorrey, the brother of Agnes.
"Hello, Sam," said Bannard. "What's that you were saying about seeing aman around here Sunday morning."
"Not morning, but noon," declared Sam, gazing with lack-luster eyes athis questioner.
"Brace up, now, Sam, tell me all you know," and Bannard looked the boysquarely in the eye.
Sam, about seventeen, or so, was of undeveloped intellect, called by theneighbors half-witted. But if pinned down to a subject and hisattention kept on it, he could talk pretty nearly rationally.
"Know lots. Saw man here--there--near edge of woods--nice little car,oh, awful nice little car----"
"Yes, go on, what did he do?"
"Do? Do? Oh, nothing. Walked around----"
"Hold on, you said he was in a car."
"No, walked around, sly--oh, so sly----"
"Rubbish! you're making up!"
"Of course he is," said Iris, "he can't tell a connected story. Who wasthe man, Sam?"
"Don't know name. But--he was at the show to-day."
"At the inquest! No!" Bannard exclaimed.
"Yes, he was. Same man. Oh, I know him, he killed Missy Pell."
"How did he get in the house," Bannard tried to draw him on to furtherabsurd assertions.
"Dunno," and Sam shook his uncertain head. "But he did, and he kill--andkill--and so, he come to show."
"Fool talk!" and Bannard scowled at the defective lad.
"No, sir! Sam no fool."
"Yes, you are, and you know it," Iris declared, but she smiled at him,for she had known the unfortunate boy a long time, and always treatedhim kindly, but not as a rational human being.
And just then, Browne, the local jeweler, appeared.
He had been sent for by Hughes, in order that they might get some ideaof the whereabouts of Mrs. Pell's jewel collection. No one reallythought they had all been stored in the small wall safe, and Browne wasasked concerning his knowledge.
Several of those most interested clustered round to hear the word andperhaps none was more eager than Mr. Bowen. Quite evidently he hadstrong hopes of receiving the chalice for his church, and he listened tothe jeweler's story.
But it was of little value. Mr. Browne declared his knowledge of
many ofMrs. Pell's jewels, which she had shown him, asking his opinion ormerely to gratify his interest, and again, when she had wanted to sellsome of the smaller ones. But he was sure that she possessed many andvaluable stones that he had never seen. He named some diamonds andemeralds that were of sufficient size and weight to be designated byname. He told of some collections that she had bought with his knowledgeand advice. And he assured them that he was positive she was the ownerof at least two million dollars' worth of unset gems, part of whichformed the collection left to her by her husband and part of which shehad acquired later, herself.
But Mr. Browne hadn't the slightest idea where these gems were storedfor safe keeping. He had sometimes discreetly hinted to Mrs. Pell thathe would like to know where they were, merely as a matter of interest,but she had never told him, and had only stated that they were safe fromfire, flood or thieves!
"Those were her very words," he asserted, "and when I said that was anall-round statement, she laughed and said they were buried."
"Buried!" cried Iris, "what an idea!"
"A very good idea," Mr. Browne defended. "I'm not sure that isn't thebest way to conceal such a stock of valuables."
"But buried where?" pursued the girl.
"That I don't know," said the jeweler.