CHAPTER FIVE
"THE FIRST CLEWS"
The magpie's words, repeated over and over as Drew and Delaney stood inthe room of death, struck both men as a possible clew. It was more thanlikely that the murderer or the murdered man had shouted something, themoment the shot was fired. This exclamation might have been, "Ah,Sing!" The bird had repeated something it had memorized, or retained inits shallow brain.
"Ah, Sing!" suggested Drew, keenly on the alert. "Ah, Sing, eh? Neverforget that! We may need it--later."
"Sounds like a Chinaman," said the operative. "Stockbridge was shot bya Chink!"
"Get busy! Go over the room and look for a possible hiding place. You,butler, stand across that doorway! Don't move from there!" Drew wheeledand stared at the white faces of the servants which were framed in thesomber curtains of the opening to the hall.
The detective swung back. He rounded the large table with slow steps.He bent down. One knee touched the rug. He reached and grasped themagnate's stiff arm. He worked it like a hinge. He felt of the muscles.They were rigid.
Rising, Drew again tested the air of the library. He glanced atDelaney, who was opening the book-case doors.
"What do you smell?" he asked sharply.
The operative turned and sniffed with widening nostrils.
"It's powder!" he said. "Gunpowder, Chief."
"Sure?"
"It's kind-a peculiar--at that."
"Explain yourself--be clear!"
Delaney scratched his head. "I'd say, Chief, it was smokeless powder.It don't smell like the ordinary kind."
"I saw smoke when I came in!"
"That smokeless stuff smokes. It ain't altogether what they call it.Remember the shootin'-gallery at Headquarters? There's smoke there whenthe police are practicing with them steel-jacketed bullets."
"You're right," said Drew. "Keep on looking about. I'm getting on.Stockbridge was shot at very close range behind and under the left ear.The weapon used was a small-caliber revolver. The bullet is undoubtedlylodged in the lower brain. Powder stains are in his hair. The openingis clotted shut. He fell forward. In falling he knocked over the littletable with its load of ash-trays, match-boxes, telephone, cigar buttsand the whisky bottle and the glass. He's been dead some time."
"I 'e'rd no shot!" cried the butler from the doorway.
Drew wheeled. "You wouldn't," he said sharply. "Delaney," he added,"say, Delaney, get out your note book and pencil. I want to put downeverything we can think of before I send for the coroner. We'll take acomplete record. This thing is diabolical. You see nothing?"
"Nothing," echoed Delaney as he slammed a book-case door shut, dustedhis fingers and reached in his pocket. "There's nobody planted in thisroom--that's a fact, Chief. That's what gets me. How was the murderdone?"
"Speculation is useless--now! Get ready for notes."
"I'm ready, Chief."
The detective strode across the library rugs and snapped on the wallswitch by jabbing at a mother-of-pearl button. Each time he jabbed,more lights came on. The room flooded with soft glowing from concealedglobes. This glow brought out the full details of the palatialinterior. Drew chewed at his mustache thoughtfully. He measured thewalls with his eyes. He glided swiftly toward the windows. He thrustaside the heavy curtains of one and glanced upward.
"Closed and locked," he said to Delaney. "Put that down. There's snowon the sill which has drifted through the outer slats. Put that down.No sign of footprints. Put that down. Now, the upper part!"
He climbed up on the ornate radiator box. His fingers went over thecatch. "Locked here!" he said, glancing down. "Locked and the same asit was. Make a note of that!"
He sprang down and examined the other window. He went over the sill andthe catch with absorbed intentness. His teeth bit against his upperlip. He shook his head as he turned.
"No chance for a bullet to have been fired through these windows!" hedeclared positively. "No chance at all. This end of the library issealed as far as we are concerned. Now, we'll consider the only otheropening--the door!"
"Double locks, Delaney," he called over his shoulder as he crossed theroom and pressed the butler back into the hall. "Double locks of thesuperior order. Gold knobs and key-holes. The holes are not in line.The chamfering is clean, except where you struck it once or twice withthe ax. No sign of outside tampering or jimmy work. I'd say we'vecovered this door. Any suggestions?"
Delaney tried both the inner lock and the bolt which was actuated witha gold butterfly-wing of heavy construction. He studied the flat key.It was gold-plated. He dropped to his knees and went over the entirelower chamfering with his broad finger.
He said, "No suggestions, Chief. This was locked twice, until we brokea hole through with an ax. I don't see----"
"Make a note of everything!" ordered Drew with a sharp glance at thewaiting servants. "Make a full record of what we have found--includingyour exact interpretation of the magpie's words. What were they?"
"Ah, Sing!"
"I think the same. Let's look the bird over. Perhaps it will repeat."
The two detectives strode to the bird-cage. "I'm going to send forFosdick and the coroner," said Drew hastily. "We've got to hurry. Whatdo you make of this bird? Could it have had anything to do with themurder?"
The magpie protested against this accusation. Its feathers ruffled. Itsclaws clamped over the perch. Its tail extended upward and seemed todart with indignation.
"Ah, Sid!" exclaimed Drew close up to the gilded bars. "Ah, Sid. Ah,Sid!" he repeated as the bird sprang to the bottom of the cage and setthis jumping up and down at the end of the spring.
"No go," said Delaney. "This black parrot don't like our looks."
Drew fingered the cage. He tested the spring. He stooped and glancedunderneath. He tapped the belfry. It was of inlaid wood. It rang solid."No use," he said. "This is all, all right. Let's get to the othermatters before the clews get cold. Look everywhere for a possibletrapdoor or a secret panel. Test the walls. Move the book-cases. Turnthe pictures. Lift up the rugs. Then put everything back like you foundit. Fosdick will be on the job with both feet and the Homicide Squad,before we know it. We haven't much time." Drew glanced at his watch asDelaney started by moving out one of the book-cases.
The detective ignored the body which lay upon the floor near the littletable. He was holding his investigation down to outside facts, andbringing them to bear upon the crux of the matter. In this way, hebelieved, he would secure better results. He did not want to be blindedby an impossibility at the beginning. His first glance at Stockbridgesufficed to assure him that the lethal instrument which had felled themagnate was not in evidence. The bright light from a score of globeswould reveal any such object as a revolver or rifle. No one of theservants had seen anything. They still were peering into the room likemen and women who had lost all they owned. Stockbridge, despite histemper and sins, had been a good master to those who served him withoutquestioning.
Drew glared at his watch for a second time, in preoccupation. He strodeto the library door and beckoned a hooked finger toward the butler whotowered over the other servants.
"You!" he exclaimed. "You didn't obey orders. You didn't stay where youwere told to stay! Why did you leave this door at all?"
"S' 'elp me, sir, I didn't, Mr. Drew. If I did it wasn't farther thanthe foyer or the downstairs steps. I took very careful pains to callthe second-man, sir, when I went after you."
Drew's eyes smoldered with inner fire. "I told you," he repeated, "Itold you to stay by this door and not leave it--even for a minute. Youwent after the second-man, by your own admission. You went to the foyerhall. You went to the staircase leading down to the lower part of thehouse. In other words, you didn't watch the door, and you lost yourmaster through your own foolishness!"
"But, sir, nobody could 'ave gotten through the door. Hit was lockedand bolted on the hinside, sir! I 'e'rd Mr. Stockbridge do that whenyou left 'im! I did, sir!"
"We may have been mistaken when we thought we he
ard that! Perhaps hejust fumbled with the locks, and left it unlocked." Drew eyed theservant's red face with a keen-lidded glance. He waited.
"That cawn't be right, sir," said the butler, after thought and a wildglance about. "'Ow can that be right? I tried the door when thetelephone loidy called me hup! I tried hit twice. James tried hit! 'Efixes hall the locks in the 'ouse, sir. 'E says it was most excellentlysecured, sir."
"How about that?" asked Drew, turning to the second-man. "What of that,James?"
"'E's right. I'm a little of everythin' about the 'ouse. I tends thedoor and I watches the lights and locks, sir. I was born in Brixton,sir, where the old man kept a lock-shop, sir. That's twenty years, andmore ago, sir. Beggin' your pardon, sir."
Drew swung upon the butler. The second-man was the living picture oftruth. His dereliction, if any, might consist in sly tapping of thewine-cellar. His nose attested to this habit, in a brilliant rosette.
"You're partly to blame!" Drew told the butler. "There's nobody in thisroom who could have committed the murder. There was nobody here when weleft Mr. Stockbridge. There is no way for anybody to get in, savethrough this door. The same applies in getting out--escaping. If youwere awake and always here, and if you were honest," he added, "I couldpresume that the master was slain by--well, let us say, unnaturalcauses. Such things do not exist. This is a material age. Nothing asmuch as a pin-head or point was ever moved save through a naturalcause. No bullet could be fired into a man's brain without a hand whichplanned or pulled the trigger."
The butler stared at Drew with blank expression. He gulped. His eyesdropped. "I'm thinking," he said, "that the whole blym occurrence hisunnatural. I never left that door until they told me the telephonecompany's loidy wanted me on the wire. It was then I left it."
"Ah!" said Drew. "We're getting there. Then, if you are speaking truth,and I won't help you if you are not, we have reached a point in thecase which will bear considerable thought. It is evident thatStockbridge was murdered by a pistol shot, at or about the time thetable and contents were spilled over. In other words, the shot whichbowled him over brought down with it the telephone transmitter andreceiver. That is the thing which fixes, within minutes--perhapsseconds--the time of the murder. The telephone girl will have a recordwhich will help us considerable. Many criminals have been caught--andconvicted by the time element. There is no alibi against truth! A mancan't be in two places at the same time!"
Drew turned toward the door. He hesitated and wheeled.
"You heard nothing fall in this room?" he asked sharply.
"I did not, sir."
"No shot?"
"I cawn't say that I did, sir."
"No telephone bell ringing? Ringing at any time after I left thehouse?"
"Not downstairs, sir."
"You did!"
"'Ow, sir?"
"Didn't you tell me the telephone company rang up and wanted you to putthe receiver on the hook in the library?"
"I didn't 'ear it ring. James brought the word, sir."
"Then, what happened upstairs?"
"'Ow do you know, sir? 'Ow'd you know it rang up there!"
"By elimination! It rang then, in Loris' room? You said 'nothingdownstairs' in such a way I presume it rang upstairs."
The butler stroked his chin. It was blue and close-shaved. The purpleof his cheeks and neck had deepened. He glanced about the hallway. Hiseyes wandered toward the grand stairway which, coiled upward to thesecond story. "I'm 'iding nothing, sir," he said. "Miss Loris often iscalled up at night. She's very popular, sir. I 'e'rd 'er telephoneringing once or twice while I was standing by this door, waiting forthe master to come out--which 'e never did."
Drew hesitated. He plucked out his watch and glanced at the dial. Heturned swiftly. "Stay right there," he said as he parted the portieresand faced Delaney who wore the puzzled expression of a man baffled andentirely at sea.
"What did you find?" he snapped to the operative.
"Not a thing, Chief." Delaney mopped his brow with his sleeve. "Nothingat all!" he added. "Everything regular. Modern--very modern house!Thick, new, fireproof, soundproof, million-dollar building. Notrapdoors or panels. No loose boards. No hole in the ceiling. Nonothing to hang a ghost on. The gunman who shot Stockbridge went rightup in blue smoke, Chief. I quit!"
Drew glided around the table and kneeled by the magnate's body. Hisswift, light-fingered touch went through the trousers and vest. Thepockets he turned inside out. The watch attracted his attention. Itsdial had been cracked by the fall. A splinter of glass pressed againstthe minute hand. He rose with a low cry. He pressed the repeater andlistened to the time chimes. He counted the strokes. He had a test in amillion. Had the watch been tampered with by the murderer, the chimeswould have proved a lie. It was possible to set the hands to anyposition. It would be difficult to change both the hands and therepeater.
"Delaney!" he said with his dark eyes glowing, "we've got the exacttime of the murder. As I told the butler--it is very important. Both,chimes and hands, show that Stockbridge was shot at four minutes andeighteen seconds past midnight--this morning! This is a fine watch. Itcost several thousand dollars. Robbery was not the motive. An ordinarycrook, and they're all ordinary--with few exceptions--would have takenthis timepiece."
"That's all right," said Delaney with a quick frown. "That's fine,Chief, but--but how did that exceptional--crook get into this room? Howdid he get out? That's what I want to know!"
Drew combed his fingers through his black hair. He described a completecircle about the library, with his eyes taking in everything, before hefaced Delaney.
"I don't know!" he said frankly. "I don't want to think of it, either.We'll turn the case over to other men for the time. Let them do somethinking. I believe we have secured everything we want."
The detective dropped his glance to the telephone receiver upon thefloor at Stockbridge's elbow. He stooped, grasped the silk-insulatedcord, and fished it up.
"I'll try to get Central," he said. "This has been off a long while.She may have sent the trouble-man again."
Drew worked the hook of the 'phone up and down. He was answered after ashort wait. The girl's surprised voice at hearing life at the end of adead set of wires was drowned in the detective's request to get him,"Spring 3100--quickly!"
"Hello! Hello!" said Drew as he got the connection. "Hello! Is thisSpring 3100? It is? Who's talking? ... Jones? This you, Jones? ... Say,Jones, plug me in on the Fifth Deputy Commissioner's private housewire!... Sir? ... I don't care! ... This is Drew talking.... Drew! ...D--r--e--w! ... That's right ... Drew, of Drew's Agency!"
The Detective turned. He eyed Delaney who was searching the floor aboutthe millionaire's upturned shoes. He tapped the receiver against thetransmitter's silver-plated edge. His eyes lifted. His lips hardened asthe diaphragm of the receiver vibrated harshly.
"Hello!" he answered tersely. "Hello! This you, Commissioner? Is thisFosdick? ... This is Drew talking. Yes! ... Drew.... Yes! I say,Fosdick, there's been a murder committed at Stockbridge's.... Youknow--the munitions magnate! ... The millionaire! ... Morphy's oldpartner."
Drew waited a moment. He dropped his eyes upon the body below him.
"Yes!" he continued into the transmitter. "Yes, Fosdick. I hear better,now. Yes--Stockbridge is dead! ... He's stone dead! He was shot down incold blood! ... Yes! ... Shot in the brain.... Yes! Send your bestoperatives.... Yes! ... Send a fingerprint man and photographer. You'llneed 'em! ... Yes! ... Yes! ... Shot with a small-bore revolver, Iguess! ... Wound behind ear looks like it! What? ... No! ... Room wasbolted.... He was inside.... Butler on guard.... Windows closed andlocked! ... No! ... No! ... No! ... It wasn't suicide. He wasthreatened twice, this time!... By letter and telephone call....What? ... What? ... No! ... He didn't shoot himself! ... There's no gun.It's on the left side--close up! ... Hair is singed ... flesh is powderspotted.... Burned? ... Yes.... You'll be right up?... Yes! ... I'll bewaiting! ... Come! ... come----"
Drew lowered the receiver and clicked
it upon the hook of the telephonewhich stood on the hardwood floor. He slowly turned toward the opendoorway of the library. The servants had drawn back and out of sight.Delaney leaned forward with both hands on his bent knees. A girl'svoice had sounded in the mansion. It came closer. The portieres partedwith a silken sweep. Drew braced himself against the larger table. Hishand went back to his hip. It dropped to his side. He stared across theflood of light with line-drawn eyelids.
Loris Stockbridge, gowned in lace chiffon and cloaked with ermine andsable, glided across the rugs and stood framed beneath the soft,rose-light of the central dome. Her dusk-black eyes burned and blazedlike flame through tinder smoke as she confronted the detective.
Clasped in the fingers of her jewelless right hand was a tiny,ivory-handled revolver.
"What are all these people doing here?" she asked hysterically.