IV. A CLUE.
“Something is rotten in the State of Denmark.” Hamlet.
THE cook of the establishment being now called, that portly, ruddy-facedindividual stepped forward with alacrity, displaying upon hergood-humored countenance such an expression of mingled eagerness andanxiety that more than one person present found it difficult to restraina smile at her appearance. Observing this and taking it as a compliment,being a woman as well as a cook, she immediately dropped a curtsey,and opening her lips was about to speak, when the coroner, risingimpatiently in his seat, took the word from her mouth by saying sternly:
“Your name?”
“Katherine Malone, sir.”
“Well, Katherine, how long have you been in Mr. Leavenworth’s service?”
“Shure, it is a good twelvemonth now, sir, since I came, on Mrs.Wilson’s ricommindation, to that very front door, and----”
“Never mind the front door, but tell us why you left this Mrs. Wilson?”
“Shure, and it was she as left me, being as she went sailing to theould country the same day when on her recommendation I came to this veryfront door--”
“Well, well; no matter about that. You have been in Mr. Leavenworth’sfamily a year?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And liked it? found him a good master?”
“Och, sir, niver have I found a better, worse luck to the villain askilled him. He was that free and ginerous, sir, that many’s the time Ikilled him. He was that free and ginerous, sir, that many’s the timeI have said to Hannah--” She stopped, with a sudden comical gasp ofterror, looking at her fellow-servants like one who had incautiouslymade a slip. The coroner, observing this, inquired hastily,
“Hannah? Who is Hannah?”
The cook, drawing her roly-poly figure up into some sort of shape inher efforts to appear unconcerned, exclaimed boldly: “She? Oh, only theladies’ maid, sir.”
“But I don’t see any one here answering to that description. You didn’tspeak of any one by the name of Hannah, as belonging to the house,” saidhe, turning to Thomas.
“No, sir,” the latter replied, with a bow and a sidelong look at thered-cheeked girl at his side. “You asked me who were in the house at thetime the murder was discovered, and I told you.”
“Oh,” cried the coroner, satirically; “used to police courts, I see.” Then, turning back to the cook, who had all this while been rollingher eyes in a vague fright about the room, inquired, “And where is thisHannah?”
“Shure, sir, she’s gone.”
“How long since?”
The cook caught her breath hysterically. “Since last night.”
“What time last night?”
“Troth, sir, and I don’t know. I don’t know anything about it.”
“Was she dismissed?”
“Not as I knows on; her clothes is here.”
“Oh, her clothes are here. At what hour did you miss her?”
“I didn’t miss her. She was here last night, and she isn’t here thismorning, and so I says she ‘s gone.”
“Humph!” cried the coroner, casting a slow glance down the room, whileevery one present looked as if a door had suddenly opened in a closedwall.
“Where did this girl sleep?”
The cook, who had been fumbling uneasily with her apron, looked up.
“Shure, we all sleeps at the top of the house, sir.”
“In one room?”
Slowly. “Yes, sir.”
“Did she come up to the room last night?”
“Yes, sir.”
“At what hour?”
“Shure, it was ten when we all came up. I heard the clock a-striking.”
“Did you observe anything unusual in her appearance?”
“She had a toothache, sir.”
“Oh, a toothache; what, then? Tell me all she did.”
But at this the cook broke into tears and wails.
“Shure, she didn’t do nothing, sir. It wasn’t her, sir, as did anything;don’t you believe it. Hannah is a good girl, and honest, sir, as everyou see. I am ready to swear on the Book as how she never put her handto the lock of his door. What should she for? She only went down to MissEleanore for some toothache-drops, her face was paining her that awful;and oh, sir----”
“There, there,” interrupted the coroner, “I am not accusing Hannah ofanything. I only asked you what she did after she reached your room. Shewent downstairs, you say. How long after you went up?”
“Troth, sir, I couldn’t tell; but Molly says----”
“Never mind what Molly says. _You_ didn’t see her go down?”
“No, sir.”
“Nor see her come back?”
“No, sir.”
“Nor see her this morning?”
“No, sir; how could I when she ‘s gone?”
“But you did see, last night, that she seemed to be suffering withtoothache?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well; now tell me how and when you first became acquainted withthe fact of Mr. Leavenworth’s death.”
But her replies to this question, while over-garrulous, contained butlittle information; and seeing this, the coroner was on the point ofdismissing her, when the little juror, remembering an admission she hadmade, of having seen Miss Eleanore Leavenworth coming out of the librarydoor a few minutes after Mr. Leavenworth’s body had been carried intothe next room, asked if her mistress had anything in her hand at thetime.
“I don’t know, sir. Faith!” she suddenly exclaimed, “I believe shedid have a piece of paper. I recollect, now, seeing her put it in herpocket.”
The next witness was Molly, the upstairs girl.
Molly O’Flanagan, as she called herself, was a rosy-cheeked,black-haired, pert girl of about eighteen, who under ordinarycircumstances would have found herself able to answer, with a due degreeof smartness, any question which might have been addressed to her. Butfright will sometimes cower the stoutest heart, and Molly, standingbefore the coroner at this juncture, presented anything but a recklessappearance, her naturally rosy cheeks blanching at the first wordaddressed to her, and her head falling forward on her breast in aconfusion too genuine to be dissembled and too transparent to bemisunderstood.
As her testimony related mostly to Hannah, and what she knew of her, andher remarkable disappearance, I shall confine myself to a mere synopsisof it.
As far as she, Molly, knew, Hannah was what she had given herself outto be, an uneducated girl of Irish extraction, who had come fromthe country to act as lady’s-maid and seamstress to the two MissesLeavenworth. She had been in the family for some time; before Mollyherself, in fact; and though by nature remarkably reticent, refusing totell anything about herself or her past life, she had managed to becomea great favorite with all in the house. But she was of a melancholynature and fond of brooding, often getting up nights to sit and think inthe dark: “as if she was a lady!” exclaimed Molly.
This habit being a singular one for a girl in her station, an attemptwas made to win from the witness further particulars in regard toit. But Molly, with a toss of her head, confined herself to the onestatement. She used to get up nights and sit in the window, and that wasall she knew about it.
Drawn away from this topic, during the consideration of which, a littleof the sharpness of Molly’s disposition had asserted itself, she went onto state, in connection with the events of the past night, that Hannahhad been ill for two days or more with a swelled face; that it grew sobad after they had gone upstairs, the night before, that she got outof bed, and dressing herself--Molly was closely questioned here, butinsisted upon the fact that Hannah had fully dressed herself, even toarranging her collar and ribbon--lighted a candle, and made known herintention of going down to Miss Eleanore for aid.
“Why Miss Eleanore?” a juryman here asked.
“Oh, she is the one who always gives out medicines and such like to theservants.”
Urged to proceed, she went on to state that she had al
ready told all sheknew about it. Hannah did not come back, nor was she to be found in thehouse at breakfast time.
“You say she took a candle with her,” said the coroner. “Was it in acandlestick?”
“No, sir; loose like.”
“Why did she take a candle? Does not Mr. Leavenworth burn gas in hishalls?”
“Yes, sir; but we put the gas out as we go up, and Hannah is afraid ofthe dark.”
“If she took a candle, it must be lying somewhere about the house. Now,has anybody seen a stray candle?”
“Not as I knows on, sir.”
“Is _this_ it?” exclaimed a voice over my shoulder.
It was Mr. Gryce, and he was holding up into view a half-burnedparaffine candle.
“Yes, sir; lor’, where did you find it?”
“In the grass of the carriage yard, half-way from the kitchen door tothe street,” he quietly returned.
Sensation. A clue, then, at last! Something had been found which seemedto connect this mysterious murder with the outside world. Instantly thebackdoor assumed the chief position of interest. The candle found lyingin the yard seemed to prove, not only that Hannah had left the houseshortly after descending from her room, but had left it by the backdoor,which we now remembered was only a few steps from the iron gate openinginto the side street. But Thomas, being recalled, repeated his assertionthat not only the back-door, but all the lower windows of the house,had been found by him securely locked and bolted at six o’clock thatmorning. Inevitable conclusion--some one had locked and bolted themafter the girl. Who? Alas, that had now become the very serious andmomentous question.