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[7] <div class="figchap"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_chap02.png" width-obs="416" height-obs="101" alt="Decoration" /></div> <h2 class="no-break">CHAPTER II I AM INVOLVED IN THE CASE</h2> It seemed to me that I had only just got to sleep on my divan when I was awakened by a heavy truck lumbering by. The sun was already high in the heavens, but on consulting my watch I found that it was only ten minutes past six. Annoyed at having waked up so early I was just dozing off again when my sleepy eyes saw the side door leading to the back stairs of the Rosemere slowly open and a young man come out. Now I do not doubt that, except for what I had seen and heard the night before, I should not have given the fellow a thought; but the house opposite had now become for me a very hotbed of mystery, and everything connected with it aroused my curiosity. So I watched the young man keenly, although he appeared to be nothing but a grocer’s or baker’s boy going on his morning rounds. But looking at him again I thought him rather old for an errand boy, for they are[8] seldom over eighteen, while this young fellow was twenty-five at the very least. He was tall, dark, and clean-shaven, although not very recently so. He wore no collar, and had on a short, black coat over which was tied a not immaculate white apron. On his arm hung a covered basket, which, from the way he carried it, I judged to be empty, or nearly so. It may have been my imagination,—in fact, I am inclined to think it was,—but it certainly seemed to me that he stole furtively from the house and glanced apprehensively up and down the street, casting a look in my direction. I thought that he started on encountering my eyes. Be that as it may, he certainly drew his battered hat farther over his face, and, with both hands in his pockets, and chewing a straw with real or assumed carelessness, walked rapidly up town. I now found my position by the window too noisy, so sought the quiet and darkness of my bedroom, where I fell immediately into such a heavy sleep that it was some time before I realised that the alarm-bell that had been clanging intermittently through my dreams was in reality my office-bell. Hurriedly throwing on a few clothes, I hastened to open the door. A negro lad stood there, literally grey with terror. His great eyes rolled alarmingly in their sockets, and it was several minutes before I could make out that[9] somebody had been killed, and that my services were required immediately. Hastily completing my dressing, and snatching up my instrument case, I was ready to follow him in a few moments. What was my astonishment and horror when he led me to the Rosemere! For a moment my heart stood still. My thoughts flew back to last night. So this was the explanation of that scream, and I had remained silent! Dolt, imbecile that I was! I felt positively guilty. The large entrance hall through which I hurried was crowded with excited people, and, as I flew up in the elevator, I tried to prepare myself for the sight of a fair-haired girl weltering in her blood. On the landing at which we stopped were several workmen, huddled together in a small knot, with white, scared faces. One of the two doors which now confronted me stood open, and I was surprised to notice that it led, not to either of the apartments I had watched the night before, but to one of those on the farther side of the building. Yet here, evidently, was the corpse. Passing through the small hall, filled with rolls of paper and pots of paints, I entered a room immediately on my right. Here several men stood together, gazing down at some object on the floor; but at my approach they moved aside and disclosed—not a golden-haired[10] woman, as I had feared, but the body of a large man stretched out in a corner. I was so astonished that I could not help giving vent to an exclamation of surprise. “Do you know the gentleman?” inquired a man, whom I afterwards discovered to be the foreman of the workmen, with quick suspicion. “No, indeed,” I answered, as I knelt down beside the body. A policeman stepped forward. “Please, sir, don’t disturb the corpse; the Coroner and the gen’l’man from headquarters must see him just as he is.” I nodded assent. One glance was sufficient to show me that life had been extinct for some time. The eyes were half open, staring stupidly before them. The mouth had fallen apart, disclosing even, white teeth. As he lay there on his back, with arms spread out, and his hands unclenched, his whole attitude suggested nothing so much as a drunken stupor. He appeared to be twenty-five or thirty years old. No wound or mark of violence was visible. He wore a short, pointed beard, and was dressed in a white linen shirt, a pair of evening trousers, a black satin tie, silk socks, and patent-leather pumps. By his side lay a Tuxedo coat and a low waistcoat. All his clothes were of fine texture, but somewhat the worse for wear. On the[11] other hand, the pearl studs in his shirt-bosom were very handsome, and on his gold sleeve-links a crest was engraved. As I said before, a glance had been enough to tell me that the man was dead; but I was astonished to discover, on examining him more closely, that he had been dead at least twenty-four hours; mortification had already set in. As I arose to my feet, I noticed a small, red-haired man, in the most comical deshabille, regarding me with breathless anxiety. “Well, Doc, what is it?” “Of course, I can give no definite opinion without making a further examination,” I said, “but I am inclined to believe that our friend succumbed to alcoholism or apoplexy; he has been dead twenty-four hours, and probably somewhat longer.” “There, now,” exclaimed the foreman; “I knew he hadn’t died last night; no, nor yistidy, neither.” “But it can’t be, I tell you!” almost shrieked the little Irishman. “Where could he have come from? Oh, Lord,” he wailed, “to think that sich a thing should have happened in this building! We only take the most iligant people; yes, sir, and now they’ll lave shure, see if they don’t. It’ll give the house a bad name; and me as worked so hard to keep it genteel.” A commotion on the landing announced the arrival[12] of a stout, florid individual, who turned out to be the Coroner, and a quiet, middle-aged man in plain clothes, whom I inferred, from the respect with which he was treated, to be no other than the “gen’l’man” from headquarters. After looking at the corpse for some moments, the Coroner turned to us and demanded: “Who is this man?” The little Irishman stepped forward. “We don’t none of us know, sor.” “How came he here then?” “The Lord only knows!” “What do you mean?” “Well, sor, it’s this way. This apartment is being re-fixed, and five men were working here till six o’clock yistidy evening, and when they left they locks the door, and it has a Yale lock; and they brought me the key and I locks it away at once; and this morning at seven they come while I was still half asleep, having slept bad on account of the heat, and I gets up and opens the safe myself and takes out the key and gives it to this gintleman,” pointing to the foreman; “and he come up here, and a few minutes afterwards I hear a great hue and cry and the workmen and elevaytor-boy come ashrieking that a body’s murthered upstairs. How the fellow got in here, unless the Divil brought him, I can’t think; and now here’s the doctor that says he’s been dead twenty-four hours!” [13] At my mention the Coroner turned towards me with a slight bow. “You are a doctor?” “Yes, I am Dr. Charles Fortescue, of Madison Avenue. My office is exactly opposite; I was summoned this morning to see the corpse; I find that the man has been dead at least twenty-four hours. I have not yet made an examination of the body, as I did not wish to disturb it till you”—with a bow which included his companion—“had seen it; but I am inclined to think he died of alcoholism or apoplexy.” “Let me make you acquainted with Mr. Merritt, Dr. Fortescue,” said the Coroner, waving his hand in the direction of the gentleman referred to. I was surprised to learn that this insignificant-looking person was really the famous detective. “Now, gentlemen,” said Mr. Merritt, “I must request you all to leave the room while Dr. Fortescue and I take a look round.” As soon as we were alone, the detective knelt down and proceeded to examine the body with astonishing quickness and dexterity. Nothing escaped him; even the darns in the socks appeared worthy of his interest. When he had finished, he beckoned me to approach, and together we turned the body over. As I had discovered no sign of violence, I was about to tell him that, unless the autopsy disclosed poison, the man had certainly died from natural causes, when Mr. Merritt[14] pointed to a small drop of blood at the side of his shirt front immediately above the heart, which had escaped my observation. In the middle of this tiny spot a puncture was visible. We now partially disrobed the corpse, and I was stupified to find that the deceased had indeed been assassinated, and by an instrument no larger than a knitting-needle. In the meantime, the detective had been carefully inspecting the clothing. There were no marks on anything except those with which laundries insist on disfiguring our linen. In the waistcoat pocket he found six dollars in bills and seventy-five cents in change; also a knife; but no watch, card, or letter. Mr. Merritt now whipped out a magnifying glass and searched everything anew; but if he discovered any clue he kept the knowledge of it discreetly to himself. After going over every inch of the floor and examining the window he peered out. “So you live there, Doctor,” he remarked, with a glance opposite. “No,” I replied, “my house is further north; my office faces the other set of apartments.” Being curious to see if we were anywhere near either of the apartments I had watched during the night, I, too, leaned out and looked hastily in the direction of my roof. We were exactly on a level with it, and[15] consequently the adjoining suite must be the one in which I had noticed the dark-haired woman and the man whose ill-timed hunt had puzzled me so much. Their behavior had certainly been very peculiar. Had they anything to do with this murder, I wondered. I was startled by a soft voice at my elbow, remarking quietly: “You seem struck by something.” As I was not anxious, at least not yet, to tell him of my experiences of the night before, I tried to say in the most natural tone in the world: “Oh, I was only noticing that we are exactly on a level with my roof.” “I had already observed that,” he said. After a slight pause, he continued: “We must now find out who saw the deceased enter the building, for in a place so guarded by bell-boys, elevator-boys and night-watchmen as this is, it seems hardly possible that he could have come in unperceived.” On entering the next room we found the Coroner deep in conversation with the foreman. He turned abruptly to me: “This man tells me that you uttered an exclamation of surprise on seeing the corpse. What made you do so?” That unlucky ejaculation! I hesitated a moment, rather at a loss to know what to reply. Every one turned towards me, and I felt myself actually blushing. “I was at first struck by a fancied resemblance,”[16] I at last managed to stammer, “but on looking closer I saw I had been completely mistaken.” “Humph,” grunted the Coroner, and I was aware that every one in the room eyed me with suspicion. “Well,” he continued, still looking at me severely, “can you tell us what the man died of?” “Yes,” I answered; “he met his death by being stabbed to the heart by a very small weapon, possibly a stiletto, but a sharp knitting-needle, or even a hat pin, could have caused the wound. The crime was committed while he was unconscious, or at least semi-conscious, either from some drug or alcohol; or he may have been asleep. He made no resistance, and in all probability never knew he had been hurt.” There was profound silence. “It is, then, impossible that this wound was self-inflicted,” inquired the Coroner. “Quite impossible,” I rejoined. “So that he was presumably murdered the night before last and smuggled into this apartment some time between six o’clock last evening and seven o’clock this morning?” continued the Coroner. Then, turning to the little red-headed manager, he asked: “Now, Mr. McGorry, how is it possible for this corpse to have been brought here? The foreman testifies that he himself locked the door in the presence of several workmen; you tell me that the key remained[17] in your safe all night. Now, please explain how this body got here?” “Lord-a-mercy, sor, you don’t think as I did it!” shrieked McGorry. “Why, sor, I never saw the man before in my life; besides, I have got a alibi, sor; yes, sor, a alibi.” “Stop, Mr. McGorry; don’t get so excited; nobody is accusing you of anything. But if this place was locked up last night, how came the body here this morning? The lock has not been tampered with. Was there a duplicate key?” “Yis, sor; but the other key was also in my safe,” replied McGorry. “Have either of these keys ever been missing?” “Shure and they haven’t been out of my keeping since the apartment was vacated last May, until three days ago when the painters begun work here. Since then they have had one of the keys during the day, but have always returned it before leaving.” “Now, tell me,” continued the Coroner, turning to the foreman, “has the key been missing since you had it?” “Not that I know of; we leave it sticking in the door all day, and only take it out when we leave.” “So that it is possible that a person might have come to the door, taken the key, and kept it for some hours without your noticing it?” [18] “Yes, sir, it’s possible, but it aint likely; I haven’t seen anyone pass since I’ve been working here.” “Could the corpse have been brought in here any other way than through the front door?” “No, Mr. Coroner,” a quiet voice at my side replied; “I have just examined the fire-escape and all the windows. The fastenings have not been tampered with, and the dust on the fire-escape shows no signs of recent disturbance.” Mr. Merritt had gone on his search so unobtrusively that I had not noticed his absence till he reappeared, a good deal less immaculate than before. “Is it possible to enter this building unperceived?” the Coroner resumed. “I should have said not,” replied McGorry; “but now everything seems possible.” Even the Coroner had to smile at his despondent tone. “The front door is opened at seven o’clock and closed at eleven, unless there’s something special going on,” McGorry continued, “and during those hours there are always one or two boys in the hall, and often three. After eleven the watchman opens the front door and takes the people up in the elevaytor. No one but meself has the key to this outside door.” “Does the watchman never leave the front hall except to take people up in the elevator?” “Well, I don’t say niver, sor, but he’s niver far off.” [19] “Then I gather that it would be just possible for a person to get out of this house unperceived between eleven P.M. and seven A.M., but impossible, or nearly so, for him to enter?” “Yes, that’s so, that’s what I think, sor.” “Well, what about the back door?” I asked. “Well, the back door is opened at six and closed at tin,” replied McGorry. “The back door is not guarded during the day, is it?” I went on, forgetting the Coroner in my eagerness. “Doctor,” broke in the latter, “allow me to conduct this inquiry. Yes, McGorry, who watches over that?” “Well, sor, at present no one; there’s a back elevaytor, but it don’t run in summer, as the house is almost empty.” “Then, as I understand it, any one can enter or leave the building by the back stairs, at any time during the day, unseen, or at any rate unnoticed; but after ten o’clock they would require the assistance of some one in the house to let them in?” “That’s so, sor.” “Now, you are sure that the deceased was not a temporary inmate of this building; that he wasn’t staying with any of the parties who are still here?” “Certain, sor.” “And no one has the slightest clue to his identity?” [20] “No one has seen him except these gen’l’men and Jim. He’s the elevaytor boy who went for you, Doc, and he didn’t say nothing about knowing him.” The Coroner paused a moment. “What families have you at present in the building?” “Well, sor, most of our people are out of town, having houses at Newport, or Lenox, and thereabouts,” McGorry answered, with a vague sweep of his hand, which seemed to include all those favored regions which lie so close together in fashionable geography. “Just now there are only two parties in the house.” “Yes, and who are they?” “Well, sor, there’s Mr. C. H. Stuart, who occupies the ground floor right; and Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, who have the apartments above this, only at the other end of the building.” I pricked up my ears. Atkins, then, must be the name of the golden-haired lady and her assailant. “Have these people been here long?” “Mr. Stuart has been with us seven years. He is a bachelor. Mr. and Mrs. Atkins have only been here since May; they are a newly-married couple, I am told.” And not a word of the mysterious pair I had seen in the adjoining apartment! Was McGorry holding something back, or was he really ignorant of their presence in the building? [21] “Are you sure, Mr. McGorry, that there is no one else in the house?” I interrupted again. “Yes, sor.” Then a light broke over his face: “No, sor; you are quite right” (I hadn’t said anything). “Miss Derwent has been two nights here, but she’s off again this morning.” Mr. Merritt here whispered something to the Coroner, whereupon the latter turned to McGorry and said: “Please see that no one leaves this building till I have seen them. I don’t wish them to be told that a murder has been committed, unless they have heard it already, which is most probable. Just inform them that there has been an accident, do you hear?” “Oh, Mr. Coroner,” exclaimed McGorry, turning almost as red as his hair in his excitement; “shure and you wouldn’t mix Miss Derwent up in this! Lord, she ain’t used to such scenes; she’d faint, and then her mother would never forgive me!” “Every one, Miss Derwent included, must view the corpse,” he replied, sternly. “Oh, sor, but——” “Silence!” thundered the Coroner; “the law must be obeyed.” So the manager went reluctantly out to give the desired order. On his return, the Coroner resumed: “Who is Miss Derwent?” “Why Miss May Derwent,” exclaimed McGorry;[22] “she’s just Miss May Derwent.” So it was the fashionable beauty I had been watching so far into the night. Strange, and stranger! “Miss May Derwent,” McGorry continued, taking pity on our ignorance, “is the only daughter of Mrs. Mortimer Derwent. She arrived here unexpectedly on Tuesday. She had missed her train, she said, and came here to pass the night.” “Did she come alone?” “Yis, sor.” “Without even a maid?” “Yis, sor.” “Surely that is an unusual thing for a rich young lady to do?” “Yis, sor,” replied McGorry, apologetically; “she has never done it before. Maybe the maid was taken on by the train.” “Did Miss Derwent bring any luggage?” “Nothing but a hand-bag, sor.” “And yet she stayed two nights! Do you know any reason for her staying here so long?” “No, sor, unless it was she had some shopping to do. A good many parcels come for her yistidy afternoon.” “Have you a key to her apartment?” “Yis, sor; when families goes away for the summer they leaves one key with me and takes the other with them.” [23] “Did you let Miss Derwent into her apartment, or did she have the key?” “I let her in.” “Did anyone wait on the young lady while she was here?” “What do you mean by that?” inquired McGorry, cautiously. “Why, did anyone go into her place to get her meals and tidy up, etc?” “No, sor, not that I know of.” “Doesn’t it strike you as peculiar that a young lady, reared in the lap of luxury and unaccustomed to doing the least thing for herself should go to an apartment in which dust and dirt had been accumulating for several months and voluntarily spend two nights there, without even a servant to perform the necessary chores for her, mind you?” “She went out for her meals,” McGorry put in, anxiously, “and young ladies, especially the rich ones, think roughing it a lark.” There was a slight pause. “What servants are there in the building besides your employees, Mr. McGorry?” “Mr. Stuart, he keeps a man and his wife—French people they are; and Mrs. Atkins, she keeps two girls.” The Coroner now rose, and, followed by Mr. Merritt, proceeded towards the room where the dead man lay. [24] “Send up your employees, one by one, McGorry.” “Yis, sor.” On the threshold the detective paused a moment, and to my astonishment and delight requested me to accompany them. The Coroner frowned, evidently considering me a very unnecessary addition to the party, but his displeasure made no difference to me; I was only too happy to be given this opportunity of watching the drama unfold itself. <div class="figend"> <ANTIMG src="images/i_close02.png" width-obs="245" height-obs="132" alt="Decoration" /></div> <hr class="l1" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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