CHAPTER II
THE DEAD MAN
For a full minute Marshall Allerdyke stood fixed--staring at the setfeatures before him. Then, with a quick catching of his breath, he madeone step to his cousin's side and laid his hand on the unyieldingshoulder. The affectionate, familiar terms in which they had alwaysaddressed each other sprang involuntarily to his lips.
"Why, James, my lad!" he exclaimed. "James, lad! James!"
Even as he spoke, he knew that James would never hear word or sound againin this world. It needed no more than one glance at the rigid features,one touch of the already fixed and statue-like body, to know that JamesAllerdyke was not only dead, but had been dead some time. And, with ashuddering sigh, Marshall Allerdyke drew himself up and looked round athis surroundings.
Nothing could have been more peaceful than that quiet hotel bedroom;nothing more orderly than its arrangements. Allerdyke had always knownhis cousin for a man of unusually tidy and methodical habits; theevidence of that orderliness was there, where he had pitched his camp forpresumably a single night. His toilet articles were spread out on thedressing-table; his pyjamas were laid across his pillow; his opensuit-case lay on a stand at the foot of the bed; by the bedside lay hisslippers. An overcoat hung from one peg of the door; a dressing-gownfrom another; on a chair in a corner lay, neatly folded, a couple oftravelling rugs. All these little details Allerdyke's sharp eyes took inat a glance; he turned from them to the things nearer the dead man.
James Allerdyke sat in a big easy chair, placed at the side of a roundtable set towards a corner of the room. He was fully dressed in a greytweed suit, but he had taken off one boot--the left--and it lay at hisfeet on the hearthrug. He himself was thrown back against the high-paddedhood of the chair; there was a little frown on his set features, a tinypuckering of the brows above his closed eyes. His hands were lying at hissides, unclasped, the fingers slightly stretched, the thumbs slightlyturned inward; everything looked as if, in the very act of taking off hisboots, some sudden spasm of pain had seized him, and he had sat up,leaned back, and died, as swiftly as the seizure had come. There was aslight blueness under the lower rims of the eyes, a corresponding tint onthe clean-shaven upper lip, but neither that nor the pallor which hadlong since settled on the rigid features had given anything ofghastliness to the face. The dead man lay back in his chair in such aneasy posture that but for his utter quietness, his intense immobility, hemight have well been taken for one who was hard and fast asleep.
The sound of the night-porter's returning footsteps sent Allerdyke outinto the corridor. Unconsciously he shook his head and raised a hand--asif to warn the man against noise.
"Sh!" he said, still acting and speaking mechanically. "Here's--I knewsomething was wrong. The fact is, my cousin's dead!"
In his surprise the night-porter dropped the key which he had been tofetch. When he straightened himself from picking it up, his ruddy facehad paled.
"Dead!" he exclaimed in a whisper. "Him! Why, he looked the picture ofhealth last night. I noticed that of him, anyway!"
"He's dead now," said Allerdyke. "He's lying there dead. Come in!"
The door along the corridor from which the man of the shock head andgreat beard had looked out, opened again, and the big head was protruded.Its owner, seeing the two standing there, came out.
"Anything wrong?" he asked, advancing towards them in his pyjamas. "Ifthere's any illness, I'm a medical man. Can I be of use?"
Allerdyke turned sharply, looking the stranger well over. He was notsure whether the man was an Englishman or a foreigner; he fancied thathe detected a slightly foreign accent. The tone was well-meaning, andeven kindly.
"I'm obliged to you," replied Allerdyke, in his characteristicallyblunt fashion. "I'm afraid nobody can be of use. The truth is, I cameto join my cousin here, and I find him dead. Seems to me he's beendead some time. As you're a doctor, you can tell, of course. Perhapsyou'll come in?"
He led the way back into the bedroom, the other two following closelybehind him. At sight of the dead man the bearded stranger uttered a sharpexclamation.
"Ah!" he said. "Mr. Allerdyke!"
"You knew him, then?" demanded Marshall. "You've met him?"
The other, who had stooped over the body, bestowing a light touch onface and hand, looked up and nodded.
"I came over with him from Christiania," he answered. "I met himthere--at a hotel. I had several conversations with him. In fact, Iwarned him."
"Warned him? Of what!" asked Allerdyke.
"Over-exertion," replied the doctor quietly. "I saw symptoms ofheart-strain. That was why I talked with him. I gathered from what hetold me that he was a man who lived a very strenuous life, and I warnedhim against doing too much. He was not fitted for it."
"Good Lord!" exclaimed Allerdyke, with obvious impatience. "Why, I alwaysconsidered him as one of the fittest men I ever knew!"
"Perhaps you did," said the doctor. "Laymen, sir, do not see what atrained eye sees. The proof in his case is--there!"
He pointed to the dead man, at whom the night-porter was staring withastonished eyes.
Allerdyke stared, too, or seemed to stare. In reality, he was gazing intospace, wondering about what had just been said.
"Then you think he died a natural death?" he asked, suddenly turning onhis companion. "You don't think there's--anything wrong?"
The doctor shook his head calmly.
"I think he died of precisely what I should have expected him to die of,"he answered. "Heart failure. It came upon him quite suddenly. You see, hewas in the act of taking off his boots. He is a little fleshy--stout. Theexertion of bending over and down--that was too much. He felt a sharpspasm--he sat back--he died, there and then."
"There and then!" repeated Allerdyke mechanically. "Well--what's to bedone!" he went on. "What is done in these cases--I suppose you know?"
"There will have to be an inquest later on," answered the doctor. "I cangive evidence for you, if you like--I am staying in Hull for a fewdays--for I can certainly testify to what I had observed. But that comeslater--at present you had better acquaint the manager of the hotel, and Ishould suggest sending for a local medical man--there are some eminentmen of my profession in this town. And--the body should be laid out. I'llgo and dress, and then do what I can for you."
"Much obliged," responded Allerdyke. "Very kind of you. What name, sir?"
"My name is Lydenberg," replied the stranger. "I will give you my cardpresently. I have the honour of addressing--?"
Allerdyke pulled out his own card-case.
"My name's Marshall Allerdyke," he answered. "I'm his cousin," he wenton, with another glance at the still figure. "And, my conscience, I neverthought to find him like this! I never heard of any weakness on hispart--I always thought him a particularly strong man."
"You will send for another medical man?" asked Dr. Lydenberg. "It will bemore satisfactory to you."
"Yes, I'll see to that," replied Allerdyke. He turned to look at thenight-porter, who was still hanging about as if fascinated. "Look here!"he said. "We don't want any fuss. Just rouse the manager quietly, andask him to come here. And find that chauffeur of mine, and tell him Iwant him. Now, then, what about a doctor? Do you know a real,first-class one?"
"There's several within ten minutes, sir," answered the night-porter."There's Dr. Orwin, in Coltman Street--he's generally fetched here. Ican get a man to go for him at once."
"Do!" commanded Allerdyke. "But send me my driver first--I want him. Tellhim what's happened."
He waited, standing and staring at his dead cousin until Gaffney camehurrying along the corridor. Allerdyke beckoned him into the room andclosed the door.
"Gaffney," he said. "You see how things are? Mr. James is dead--I foundhim sitting there, dead. He's been dead some time--hours. There's adoctor, a foreigner, I think, across the passage there, who says it'sbeen heart failure. I've sent for another doctor. Now in the meantime, Iwant to see what my cousin's got on him, and I want you to help me.
We'lltake everything off him in the way of valuables, papers, and so on, andput 'em in that small hand-bag of his."
Master and man went methodically to work; and an observer of an undulysentimental shade of mind might have said that there was something almostcallous about their measured, business-like proceedings. But MarshallAllerdyke was a man of eminently thorough and practical habits, and hewas doing what he did with an idea and a purpose. His cousin might havedied from sudden heart failure; again, he might not, there might havebeen foul play; there might have been one of many reasons for hisunexpected death--anyway, in Allerdyke's opinion it was necessary for himto know exactly what James was carrying about his person when death tookplace. There was a small hand-bag on the dressing-table; Allerdyke openedit and took out all its contents. They were few--a muffler, atravelling-cap, a book or two, some foreign newspapers, a Russianword-book, a flask, the various odds and ends, small unimportant thingswhich a voyager by sea and land picks up. Allerdyke took all these out,and laying them aside on the table, directed Gaffney to take everythingfrom the dead man's pockets. And Gaffney, solemn of face and tight oflip, set to his task in silence.
There was comparatively little to bring to light. A watch and chain--thesmall pocket articles which every man carries--keys, a monocle eyeglass,a purse full of gold, loose silver, a note-case containing a considerablesum in bank-notes, some English, some foreign, letters and papers, apocket diary--these were all. Allerdyke took each as Gaffney producedthem, and placed each in the bag with no more than a mere glance.
"Everything there is, sir," whispered the chauffeur at last. "I've beenthrough every pocket."
Allerdyke found the key of the bag, locked it, and set it aside on themantelpiece. Then he went over to the suit-case lying on the bench at thefoot of the bed, closed and locked it, and dropped the bunch of keys inhis pocket. And just then Dr. Lydenberg came back, dressed, and on hisheels came the manager of the hotel, startled and anxious, and with himan elderly professional-looking man whom he introduced as Dr. Orwin.
When James Allerdyke's dead body had been lifted on to the bed, and thetwo medical men had begun a whispered conversation beside it, Allerdykedrew the hotel manager aside to a corner of the room.
"Did you see anything of my cousin when he arrived last night?" he asked.
"Not when he arrived--no," replied the manager. "But later--yes. I hadsome slight conversation with him after he had taken supper. It wasnothing much--he merely wished to know if there was always a night-porteron duty. He said he expected a friend, who might turn up at any hour ofthe night, and he wanted to leave a card for him. That would be you, Isuppose, sir?"
"Just so," replied Allerdyke. "Now, how did he seem at that time? Andwhat time was that?"
"Ten o'clock," said the manager. "Seem? Well, sir, he seemed to be in thevery best of health and spirits! I was astonished to hear that he wasdead. I never saw a man look more like living. He was--"
The elderly doctor came away from the bed approaching Allerdyke.
"After hearing what Dr. Lydenberg tells me, and examining the body--amere perfunctory examination as yet, you know--I have little doubt thatthis gentleman died of what is commonly called heart failure," he said."There will have to be an inquest, of course, and it may be advisable tomake a post-mortem examination. You are a relative?"
"Cousin," replied Allerdyke. He hesitated a moment, and then spokebluntly. "You don't think it's been a case of poisoning, do you?" he said.
Dr. Orwin pursed his lips and regarded his questioner narrowly.
"Self-administered, do you mean?" he asked.
"Administered any way," answered Allerdyke. "Self or otherwise." Hesquared his shoulders and spoke determinedly. "I don't understand aboutthis heart-failure notion," he went on. "I never heard him complain ofhis heart. He was a strong, active man--hearty and full of go. I want toknow--everything."
"There should certainly be an autopsy," murmured Dr. Orwin. He turned andlooked at his temporary colleague, who nodded as if in assent. Then heturned back to Allerdyke. "If you'll leave us for a while, we will justmake a further examination--then we'll speak to you later."
Allerdyke signified his assent with a curt nod of the head. Accompaniedby the manager and Gaffney he left the room, and with him he carried thesmall hand-bag in which he had placed the dead man's personal effects.