CHAPTER III The Elevator
Mr. Talcott returned to the middle room and looked more carefully at thedisturbed condition of things around and on Mr. Gately's desk.
"It is certain that Mr. Gately left the room in haste," he said, "forhere is what is undoubtedly a private and personal checkbook left open. Ishall take on myself the responsibility of putting it away, for themoment, at least."
Mr. Talcott closed the checkbook and put it in a small drawer of thedesk.
"Why don't you put away that hatpin, too?" suggested Norah, eying the pincuriously. "I don't think it belongs to Miss Raynor."
"Take it up by the edge," I warned; "I may be jumping to conclusions, butthere is a possibility that a crime has been committed, and we mustpreserve what _may_ be evidence."
"Quite right, Mr. Brice," agreed Talcott, and he gingerly picked up thepin by taking the edges of its ornate head between his thumb andforefinger. The head was an Egyptian scarab,--whether a real one or not Icouldn't tell,--and was set on a flat backing of gold. This back mighteasily retain the thumb print of the woman who had drawn that pin fromher hat in Mr. Gately's office. And who, Norah surmised, was the personwho had fired the pistol that I had heard discharged.
Placing the hatpin in the drawer with the checkbook, Mr. Talcott lockedthe drawer and slipped the key in his pocket.
I wondered if he had seen some entry in the book that made him wish tohide Mr. Gately's private affairs from curious eyes.
"There is indeed a possibility of something wrong," he went on, "at firstI couldn't think it, but seeing this room, that overturned chair andupset telephone, in connection with the shooting, as you heard it, Mr.Brice, it certainly seems ominous. And most mysterious! Two peoplequarreling, a shot fired by one or other of them, and no sign of theassailant, his victim, or his weapon! Now, there are three propositions,one of which _must_ be the truth. Mr. Gately is alive and well, he iswounded, or he is killed. The last seems impossible, as his body couldnot have been taken away without discovery; if he were wounded, I thinkthat, too, would have to be known; so, I still feel that things are allright. But until we can prove that, we must continue our search."
"Yes," I agreed, "search for Mr. Gately and also, search for the man whowas here and who quarreled with him."
"Or the woman," insisted Norah.
"I can't think it was a woman," I said. "Although the shadow wasindistinct, it struck me as that of a man, the motions and attitudes weremasculine, as I recall them. The hatpin may have been left here thismorning or any time."
"The visitor must be found," declared Mr. Talcott, "but I don't know howto go about it."
"Ask the elevator girls," I suggested; "one of them must have brought thecaller up here."
We did this, but the attendants of the three elevators all denied havingbrought anyone up to Mr. Gately's offices since the old man and theelderly lady who had been mentioned by Jenny.
Miss Raynor had been brought up by one of the girls also, but we couldn'tquite ascertain whether she had come before or after the other two.
While waiting for Miss Raynor to come again, I tried to do a littlescientific deduction from any evidence I might notice.
But I gained small information. The desk-blotter, inkwell, and pens werein immaculate order, doubtless they were renewed every day by a carefulattendant. All the minor accessories, such as paperweights and letteropeners were of individual styles and of valuable materials.
There was elaborate smoking paraphernalia and a beautiful single rose ina tall silver vase.
"Can you read anything bearing on the mystery, Mr. Brice," asked Talcott,noting my thoughtful scrutiny.
"No; nothing definite. In fact, nothing of any importance. I see that onone occasion, at least, Mr. Gately kept a chauffeur waiting anunconscionably long time, and the man was finally obliged to go awaywithout him."
"Well, now, how do you guess that?" and Mr. Talcott looked decidedlyinterested.
"Like most of those spectacular deductions," I responded, "theexplanation takes all the charm out of it. There is a carriage check onthe desk,--one of those queer cards with a lot of circular holes in it.That must have been given to Mr. Gately when he left his car, or perhapsa taxicab, outside of some hotel or shop. As he didn't give it up, thechauffeur must have waited for him until he was tired."
"He may have gone off with some friend, and sent word to the man not towait," offered Talcott.
"But then he would have sent the call-check out to identify him. What aqueer-looking thing it is," and I picked up the card, with its sevenround holes in a cabalistic array.
"Perhaps the caller left it," spoke up Norah; "perhaps he, or she, camehere in a cab, or a car, and----"
"No, Norah," I said, "such checks are not given out at a building of thissort. Only at hotels, theaters, or shops."
"It's of no importance," and Mr. Talcott gave a slight shrug ofimpatience; "the thing is, where is Mr. Gately?"
Restless and unable to sit still, I wandered into the third room. I hadheard of this sanctum, but I had never expected to see inside of it. Theimpulse came to me now to make the most of this chance, for when Mr.Gately returned I might be summarily, if courteously, ejected.
The effect of the room was that of dignified splendor. It had evidentlybeen done but not overdone by a decorator who was a true artist. Thepredominant color was a soft, deep blue, and the rugs and textile fabricswere rich and luxurious. There were a few fine paintings in gold framesand the large war map occupied the greater part of a paneled wall space.The chairs were spacious and cushioned, and a huge davenport stood infront of a wide fireplace, where some logs were cheerily burning.
A cozy place to entertain friends, I ruminated, and then, turning back tothe middle room, I reconstructed the movements of the two people I hadseen shadowed.
"As they rose," I said to Mr. Talcott, "Amos Gately was behind this bigtable-desk, and the other man,--for I still think it was a man,--wasopposite. The other man upset his chair, on rising, so he must have risenhastily. Then the shot was fired, and the two disappeared. As Jenny cameinto the room at once, and saw the strange man going through the thirdroom and on out to the stairs, we are forced to the conclusion that Mr.Gately preceded him."
"Down the stairs?" asked Mr. Talcott.
"Yes, for the flight, at least, or Jenny would have seen him. Also, Ishould have seen him, had he remained in this hall."
"And the woman?" asked Norah, "what became of her?"
"I don't think there was any woman present at that time," I returned."The hatpin was, doubtless, left by a woman caller, but we've no reasonto suppose she was there at the same time the shooting occurred."
"I can't think of any reason why anyone should shoot Mr. Gately," saidTalcott, musingly. "He is a most estimable gentleman, the soul of honorand uprightness."
"Of course," I assented; "but has he no personal enemies?"
"None that I know of, and it is highly improbable, anyway. He is not apolitician, or, indeed, a public man of any sort. He is exceedinglycharitable, but he rarely makes known his good deeds. He has let it beknown that he wishes his benefactions kept quiet."
"What are his tastes?" I asked, casually.
"Simple in the extreme. He rarely takes a vacation, and though his homeis on a magnificent scale, he doesn't entertain very much. I have heardthat Miss Raynor pleads in vain for him to be more of a society man."
"She is his ward?"
"Yes; no relation, although she calls him uncle. I believe he was acollege chum of Miss Raynor's father, and when the girl was left alone inthe world, he took her to live with him, and took charge of her fortune."
"A large one?"
"Fairly so, I believe. Enough to tempt the fortune-hunters, anyway, andMr. Gately frowns on any young man who approaches him with a request forOlive Raynor's hand."
"Perhaps the caller today was a suitor."
"Oh, I hardly think a man would come armed on such a
n errand. No; to me,the most mysterious thing about it all, is why anyone should desire toharm Mr. Gately. It must have been a homicidal maniac,--if there isreally such a being."
"The most mysterious part to me," I rejoined, "is how they both got awayso quickly. You see, I stood in my doorway opposite, looking at them, andthen as soon as I heard the shot I ran to the middle door as fast as Icould, then to the third room door, and then back to the first. Ofcourse, had I known which room was which, I should have gone to doornumber one first. But, as you see, I was in the hall, going from one doorto another, and I must have seen the men if they came out into the hallfrom any door."
"They left room number three, as you entered number one," said Norah,carefully thinking it out.
"That must be so, but where did they go? Why, if Mr. Gately wentdownstairs, has he not been visible since? I can't help feeling that AmosGately is unable to move, for some reason or other. May he have beenkidnaped? Or is he bound and gagged in some unused room, say on the floorbelow this?"
"No," said Talcott, briefly. "Without saying anything about it I put oneof the bank clerks on the hunt and I told him to look into every room inthe building. As he has not reported, he hasn't yet found Mr. Gately."
And then, Olive Raynor arrived.
I shall never forget that first sight of her. Heralded by a fragrantwhiff of fresh violets, she came into the first room, and paused at thedoorway of the middle room, where we still sat.
Framed in the mahogany door-casing, the lovely bit of femininity seemed alaughing bundle of furs, velvets, and laces.
"What's the matter?" said a soft, sweet voice. "Has Uncle Amos run away?I hope he is in a sheltered place for there's a ferocious storm coming upand the wind is blowing a gale."
The nodding plumes on her hat tossed as she raised her head inquiringlyand looked about.
"What do I smell?" she exclaimed; "it's like--like pistol-smoke!"
"It is," Mr. Talcott said. "But there's no pistol here now----"
"How exciting! What's it all about? Do tell me."
Clearly the girl apprehended no serious matter. Her wide-open eyes showedcuriosity and interest, but no thought of trouble had as yet come to her.
She stepped further into the room, and throwing back her furs revealed aslender graceful figure, quick of movement and of exquisite poise.Neither dark nor very fair, her wavy brown hair framed a face whose chiefcharacteristic seemed to be its quickly changing expressions. Nowsmiling, then grave, now wondering, then merry, she looked from one toanother of us, her big brown eyes coming to rest at last on Norah.
"Who are you?" she asked, with a lovely smile that robbed the words ofall curtness.
"I am Norah MacCormack, Miss Raynor," my stenographer replied. "I am inMr. Brice's office, across the hall. This is Mr. Brice."
There was no reason why Norah should be the one to introduce me, but wewere all a little rattled, and Mr. Talcott, who, of course, was the oneto handle the situation, seemed utterly at a loss as to how to begin.
"How do you do, Mr. Brice?" and Miss Raynor flashed me a special smile."And now, Mr. Talcott, tell me what's the matter? I see something hashappened. What is it?"
She was grave enough now. She had suddenly realized that there wassomething to tell, and she meant to have it told.
"I don't know, Miss Raynor," Talcott began, "whether anything hashappened, or not. I mean, anything serious. We--that is,--we don't knowwhere Mr. Gately is."
"Go on. That of itself doesn't explain your anxious faces."
So Talcott told her,--told her just what we knew ourselves, which was solittle and yet so mysterious.
Olive listened, her great, dark eyes widening with wonder. She had thrownoff her fur coat and was seated in Amos Gately's desk-chair, her daintyfoot turning the chair on its swivel now and then.
Her muff fell to the floor, and, unconsciously, she drew off her glovesand dropped them upon it. She said no word during the recital, but hervivid face showed all the surprise and fear she felt as the tale wastold.
Then, "I don't understand," she said, simply. "Do you think somebody shotUncle Amos? Then where is he?"
"We don't understand, either," returned Talcott. "We don't know thatanybody shot him. We only know a shot was fired and Mr. Gately ismissing."
Just then a man entered Jenny's room, from the hall. He, too, paused inthe doorway to the middle room.
"Oh, Amory, come in!" cried Miss Raynor. "I'm so glad you're here. Thisis Mr. Brice,--and Miss MacCormack,--Mr. Manning. Mr. Talcott, of courseyou know."
I had never met Amory Manning before, but one glance was enough to showhow matters stood between him and Olive Raynor. They were more thanfriends,--that much was certain.
"I saw Mr. Manning downstairs," Miss Raynor said to Talcott, with alovely flush, "and--as Uncle Amos doesn't--well, he isn't just crazy overhim, I asked him not to come up here with me, but to wait for medownstairs."
"And as you were so long about coming down, I came up," said Mr. Manning,with a little smile. "What's this,--what about a shot? Where's Mr.Gately?"
Talcott hesitated, but Olive Raynor poured out the whole story at once.
Manning listened gravely, and at the end, said simply: "He _must_ befound. How shall we set about it?"
"That's what I don't know," replied Talcott.
"I'll help," said Olive, briskly. "I refuse to believe any harm has cometo him. Let's call up his clubs."
"I've done that," said Talcott. "I can't think he went awayanywhere--willingly."
"How, then?" cried Olive. "Oh, wait a minute,--I know something!"
"What?" asked Talcott and I together, for the girl's face glowed with hersudden happy thought.
"Why, Uncle Amos has a private elevator of his own. He went down inthat!"
"Where is it?" asked Manning.
"I don't know," and Olive looked about the room. "And Uncle forbade meever to mention it,--but this is an emergency, isn't it? and I'mjustified,--don't you think?"
"Yes," said Manning; "tell all you know."
"But that's all I do know. There is a secret elevator that nobody knowsabout. Surely you can find it."
"Surely we can!" said I, and jumping up, I began the search.
Nor did it take long. There were not very many places where a privateentrance could be concealed, and I found it behind the big war map, inthe third room.
The door was flush with the wall, and painted the same as the panelitself. The map simply hung on the door, but overlapped sufficiently tohide it. Thus the door was concealed, though not really difficult ofdiscovery.
"It won't open," I announced after a futile trial.
"Automatic," said Talcott. "You can't open that kind, when the car isdown."
"How do you know the car is down?" I asked.
"Because the door won't open. Well, it does seem probable that Mr. Gatelywent away by this exit, then."
"And the woman, too," remarked Norah.
As before Mr. Talcott didn't object to Norah's participation in ourdiscussion, in fact, he seemed rather to welcome it, and in a way,deferred to her opinions.
"Perhaps so," he assented. "Now, Miss Raynor, where does this elevatordescend to? I mean, where does it open on the ground floor?"
"I don't know, I'm sure," and the girl looked perplexed. "I've never beenup or down in it. I shouldn't have known of it, but once Uncle let slip achance reference to it, and when I asked him about it, he told me, buttold me not to tell. You see, he uses it to get away from bores or peoplehe doesn't want to see."
"It ought to be easy to trace its shaft down through the floors," saidAmory Manning. "Though I suppose there's no opening on any floor untilthe street floor is reached."
Manning was a thoughtful-looking chap. Though we had never met before, Iknew of him and I had an impression that he was a civil engineer orsomething like that. I felt drawn to him at once, for he had a pleasant,responsive manner and a nice, kindly way with him.
In appearance, he was scholarly, rather than bus
iness-like. This effectwas probably due in part to the huge shell-rimmed glasses he wore. Ican't bear those things myself, but some men seem to take to themnaturally. For the rest, Manning had thick, dark hair, and he was a bitinclined to stoutness, but his goodly height saved him from lookingstocky.
"Well, I think we ought to investigate this elevator," said Talcott."Suppose you and I, Mr. Brice, go downstairs to see about it, leavingMiss Raynor and Mr. Manning here,--in case,--in case Mr. Gately returns."
I knew that Talcott meant, in case we should find anything wrong in theelevator, but he put it the more casual way, and Miss Raynor seemedsatisfied.
"Yes, do," she said, "and we'll wait here till you come back. Of course,you can find where it lands, and--oh, wait a minute! Maybe it opens inthe next door building. I remember, sometimes when I've been waiting inthe car for Uncle, he has come out of the building next door instead ofthis one, and when I asked him why, he always turned the subject withouttelling me."
"It may be," and Talcott considered the position of the shaft. "Well,we'll see."
Norah discreetly returned to my offices, but I felt pretty sure shewouldn't go home, until something was found out concerning the mysteriousdisappearance.
On the street floor we could find no possible outlet for the elevator inquestion, and had it not been for Olive's hint as to where to look, Idon't know how we should have found it at all.
But on leaving the Trust Company Building, we found the place at last. Atleast, we found a door which was in the position where we supposed theelevator shaft would require it, and we tried to open it.
This we failed to do.
"Looks bad," said Talcott, shaking his head. "If Amos Gately is in there,it's because he's unable to get out--or--unconscious."
He couldn't bring himself to speak the crueler word that was in both ourminds, and he turned abruptly aside, as he went in search of the janitoror the superintendent of the building.
Left by myself I stared at the silent door. It was an ordinary-lookingdoor, at the end of a small side passage which communicated with the mainhall or lobby of the building. It was inconspicuous, and as the passagehad an angle in it, Amos Gately could easily have gone in and out of thatdoor without exciting comment.
Of course, the janitor would know all about it; and he did.
He returned with Mr. Talcott, muttering as he came.
"I always said Mr. Gately'd get caught in that thing yet! I don't holdwith them automaticky things, so I don't. They may go all right for yearsand then cut up some trick on you. If that man's caught in there, he mustbe pretty sick by this time!"
"Does Mr. Gately use the thing much?" I asked.
"Not so very often, sir. Irregular like. Now, quite frequent, and then,again, sort of seldom. Well, we can't open it, Mr. Talcott. These thingswon't work, only just so. After anybody gets in, and shuts the door, itcan't be opened except by pressing a button on the inside. Can't you getin upstairs?"
"No," said Talcott, shortly. "Get help, then, and break the door down."
This was done, the splintered door fell away, and there, in a crumpledheap on the floor of the car, was Amos Gately,--dead.