<h2 id="c5"><span class="small">CHAPTER V</span> <br/>Olive Raynor</h2>
<p>I did see Miss Olive Raynor the next day, but
not in the surroundings of her own home as
I had expected.</p>
<p>For I received a rather peremptory summons to
present myself at police headquarters at a shockingly
early hour, and not long after my arrival
there, Miss Raynor appeared also.</p>
<p>The police had spent a busy night, and had unearthed
more or less evidence and had collected
quite a cloud of witnesses.</p>
<p>Chief of Police Martin conducted the inquiry,
and I soon found that my story was considered
of utmost importance, and that I was expected to
relate it to the minutest details.</p>
<p>This I did, patiently answering repeated questions
and asseverating facts.</p>
<p>But I could give no hint as to the identity, or
even as to the appearance of the man who quarreled
with Mr. Gately. I could, and did say that
he seemed to be a burly figure, or, at least, the
shadow showed a large frame and broad shoulders.</p>
<p>“Had he a hat on?” asked the Chief.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_75">[75]</div>
<p>“No; and I should say he had either a large
head or thick, bushy hair, for the shadow showed
that much.”</p>
<p>“Did you not see his face in profile?”</p>
<p>“If so, it was only momentarily, and the clouded
glass of the door, in irregular waves, entirely prevented
a clear-cut profile view.”</p>
<p>“And after the two men rose, they disappeared
at once?”</p>
<p>“They wrestled;—it seemed, I should say, that
Mr. Gately was grabbed by the other man, and
tried to make a getaway, whereupon the other man
shot him.”</p>
<p>“Are you quite sure, Mr. Brice,” and the Chief
fixed me with his sharp blue eye, “that you are not
reconstructing this affair in the light of the later
discovery of Mr. Gately’s fate?”</p>
<p>I thought this over carefully before replying, and
then said: “It’s quite possible I may have unconsciously
done so. But I distinctly saw the two
figures come together in a desperate struggle, then
disappear, doubtless into the third room, and then
I heard the shot. That is all I can state positively.”</p>
<p>“You, then, went right across the hall and tried
to enter?”</p>
<p>“Yes; tried to enter at the middle door, where
I had seen the men.”</p>
<p>“And next?”</p>
<p>“Finding that door fastened, I tried the third,
because the men had seemed to disappear in that
direction.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_76">[76]</div>
<p>“The third room was also locked?”</p>
<p>“Yes; or at least the door would not open
from the outside. Then I went back to the door
number one.”</p>
<p>“And that opened at once?”</p>
<p>“Yes; had I tried that first, I should probably
have seen the men,—or the girl, Jenny.”</p>
<p>“Perhaps. Could you recognize the head of
the visitor if you should see it again shadowed
on the door?”</p>
<p>“I am not sure, but I doubt if I could. I
could tell if it were a very different type of head,
but if merely similar, I could not swear it was
the same man.”</p>
<p>“H’m. We must make the experiment. At
least it may give us a hint in the right direction.”</p>
<p>He questioned me further as to my knowledge
of Mr. Gately and his affairs, but when he found
I knew almost nothing of those and had been a
tenant of the Puritan Building but a very short
time he suddenly lost interest in me and turned his
attention to Miss Raynor.</p>
<p>Olive Raynor had come alone and unattended.
This surprised me, for I had imagined the young
ladies of the higher social circles never went anywhere
alone. But in many ways Miss Raynor
evinced her independence and self-reliance, and I
had no doubt a trusted chauffeur waited in her car
outside.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_77">[77]</div>
<p>She was garbed in black, but it was not the heavy
crape material that I supposed all women wore as
mourning. A long black velvet cape swathed the
slender figure in its voluminous folds, and as this
was thrown back, I saw her gown was of black
satin, with thinner black material used in combination.
Women’s clothes, though a mystery to me,
had a sort of fascination for my ignorant eyes, and
I knew enough to appreciate that Miss Raynor’s
costume was correct and very smart.</p>
<p>Her hat was black, too, smaller than the one I
saw her in the day before, and of a quieter type.</p>
<p>Altogether, she looked very lovely, and her sweet,
flower-like face, with its big, pathetic brown eyes,
was raised frankly to Chief Martin as she answered
his questions in a low, clear voice. A slight pallor
told of a night of wakefulness and sorrow, but this
seemed to accentuate the scarlet of her fine, delicate
lips,—a scarlet unacquainted with the assistance of
the rouge stick.</p>
<p>“No,” she said, positively, “Mr. Gately had no
enemies, I am sure he hadn’t! Of course, he may
have kept parts of his life or his affairs secret from
me, but I have lived with him too long and too
familiarly not to know him thoroughly. He was
of a simple, straightforward nature, and a wise and
noble gentleman.”</p>
<p>“Yet you were not entirely fond of your uncle,”
insinuated the Chief.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_78">[78]</div>
<p>“He was not my uncle,” returned Olive, calmly.
“I called him that but he was no relation to me.
He used to be a college chum of my father’s and
when both my parents died, he became not only my
guardian but my kind friend and benefactor. He
took me to live with him, and I have been his constant
companion for twelve years. During that
time, I have seen no act, have heard no word that
could in the slightest way reflect on his honor or
his character as a business man or as a gentleman.”</p>
<p>The girl spoke proudly, as though glad to pay
this tribute to her guardian, but still, there was no
note of affection in her voice,—no quiver of sorrow
at her loss.</p>
<p>“Yet you are not bowed with grief at his death,”
observed Martin.</p>
<p>The dainty chin tilted in indignation. “Mr.
Martin,” Olive said, “I cannot believe that my personal
feelings are of interest to you. I understand
I am here to be questioned as to my knowledge of
facts bearing on this case.”</p>
<p>The Chief nodded his head. “That’s all right,”
he said, “but I must learn all I can of Mr. Gately’s
life outside his bank as well as in it. If you won’t
give me information I must get it elsewhere.”</p>
<p>The implied threat worked.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_79">[79]</div>
<p>“I do indeed sorrow at Mr. Gately’s tragic fate,”
Olive said, gently. “To be sure, he was not my
kin, but I admired and deeply respected him. If I
did not deeply love him it was his own fault. He
was most strict and tyrannical in his household,
and his lightest word was law. I was willing
enough to obey in many matters, but it annoyed and
irritated me when he interfered with my simplest
occupations or pleasures. He permitted me very
little company or amusement; he forbade many of
my friends the house; and he persistently refused to
let me accept attentions from men, unless they were
certain ones whom he preferred, and—whom I did
not always favor.”</p>
<p>“Did he favor Amory Manning?” was the next
abrupt question.</p>
<p>Olive’s cheeks turned a soft pink, but she replied
calmly. “Not especially, though he had not forbidden
Mr. Manning the house. Why do you ask
that?”</p>
<p>“Had you noticed anything unusual lately about
Mr. Gately? Any nervousness or apprehension of
danger?”</p>
<p>“Not in the least. He was of a most equable
temperament, and there has been no change of
late.”</p>
<p>“When did you last see him—alive?”</p>
<p>“Yesterday afternoon. I went to his office to
get some money.”</p>
<p>“He has charge of your fortune?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”</p>
<p>“He made no objection to your expenditures?”</p>
<p>“Not at all. He was most just and considerate
in my financial affairs. He gave me then what I
asked for, and after a very short stay I went on.”</p>
<p>“Where?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_80">[80]</div>
<p>“To the house of a friend on Park Avenue,
where I spent most of the afternoon.”</p>
<p>“At what time were you in Mr. Gately’s
office?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know exactly. About two o’clock, I
think.”</p>
<p>“Can’t you tell me more positively? It may be
important.”</p>
<p>But Olive couldn’t be sure whether she was there
before or after two. She had lunched late, and
had done some errands, and had finally reached her
friend’s home by mid-afternoon.</p>
<p>This seemed to me most plausible, for society
young ladies do not always keep strict note of time,
but the Chief apparently thought it a matter of
moment and made notes concerning it.</p>
<p>Olive looked indifferent, and though she was
courteous enough, her whole manner betokened a
desire to get the examination over and to be allowed
to go home.</p>
<p>After a little further tedious questioning, which,
so far as I could see, elicited nothing of real importance,
the Chief sighed and terminated the
interview.</p>
<p>Mr. Mason and Mr. Talcott had by this time
arrived, and their presence was welcomed by Miss
Raynor, who was apparently glad of the nearness
of a personal friend.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_81">[81]</div>
<p>Of course, their evidence was but a repetition of
the scenes I had been through the day before, but
I was deeply interested in the attitudes of the two
men.</p>
<p>Talcott, the secretary of the Trust Company, was
honestly affected by the death of his friend and
president, and showed real sorrow, while Mr.
Mason, the vice-president, was of a cold, precise
demeanor, seemingly far more interested in discovering
the murderer than appalled by the tragedy.</p>
<p>“We <i>must</i> learn who killed him,” Mr. Mason
reiterated. “Why, Chief Martin, if the police fail
to track down the slayer of Amos Gately, it will be
a blot on their record forever! Spare no effort,—put
your best men on the case, move heaven and
earth, if need be, but get your man! The Company
will back you to the full extent of its power;
we will offer a reward, when the suitable time
comes for that. But the crime must be avenged,
the man that shot President Gately <i>must</i> pay the
penalty!”</p>
<p>Olive’s flashing eyes showed her sympathy with
this sort of talk and I could quite understand the
attitude of the girl, whose sense of justice cried out
for revenge, while she was forced to admit the deprivations
of her life with her guardian.</p>
<p>Somewhat later, the three went away together,
Miss Raynor and the men from the bank, but I
remained, hoping to learn more from further witnesses.
And I did. I learned so much that my
thoughts and theories were started off along totally
different lines; my half-formed beliefs were
knocked down and set up again, with swift continuance.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_82">[82]</div>
<p>First, Jenny Boyd, the yellow ear-muffed stenographer
came in, wearing her Sunday clothes. Her
cheaply fashionable hat was tilted over her pert
little face, which showed enthusiastic, if ill-advised
application of certain pigments. Her gown was
V-necked and short-skirted, but it had a slight claim
to style and was undeniably becoming. Her air of
importance was such that I thought I had never
seen such an enormous amount of ego contained
in such a small cosmos.</p>
<p>Minny was with her, but the older sister, in
quieter attire, was merely a foil for the ebullient
Jenny. Also, they were accompanied by a big,
good-natured faced man, whom I recognized at once
as the janitor of the Matteawan Building, and who,
it transpired, was the father of the two girls.</p>
<p>“Here we are,” he said, in a bluff, hearty way;
“here’s me and my girls, and we’d be obliged, Mr.
Chief, if you’d cut it short as much as you can,
for me and Minny wants to get back.”</p>
<p>“All right, Boyd,” and Chief Martin smiled
at him. “I’ll tackle you first. Tell us all about
that private elevator of Mr. Gately’s.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_83">[83]</div>
<p>“I will, but savin’ for this murder business, not
a word of it would ever have crossed my lips.
Well, Mr. Gately, he owned the Matteawan, d’you
see? and when it suited his purposes to put in a
private elevator up to his rooms on the top floor
of the next door building,—The Puritan Building,
you know,—what more easy than to run the shaft
up in the one building with the opening at the top
out into the other house. Anyways, that’s what
he done,—a long time ago. I had to know of it, of
course,——”</p>
<p>“Of course, as superintendent of the Matteawan.”</p>
<p>“That’s what they call it now, but I like better
to be called janitor. As janitor I began, and as
janitor I’ll work to the end. Well, Mr. Gately, he
went up and down in the little car whenever he
chose, and no one noticed him at all. It wasn’t,
after all, to say, secret, exactly, but it was a private
elevator.”</p>
<p>“But a concealed door in his own office makes
the thing pretty secret, I should say.”</p>
<p>“Secret it is, then. But it’s no crime for a man
to have a concealed way of gettin’ into or out of
his own rooms, is it? Many’s the time Mr.
Gately’s come down laughing fit to bust at the way
he got away from some old doddering fool who
wanted to buzz him to death!”</p>
<p>“You frequently saw him come down, then?”</p>
<p>“Not to say frequently,—but now and again. If
I happened to be about at the time.”</p>
<p>“Did anyone else use the elevator?”</p>
<p>“Sometimes, yes. I’ve seen a few people go up
or come down,—but mostly it was the boss himself.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_84">[84]</div>
<p>“Did he go up in it yesterday?”</p>
<p>“Not that I seen. But, of course, he may have
done so.”</p>
<p>“When did he last come into his offices before—before
he disappeared?”</p>
<p>“When did he, Jenny? Speak up, girl, and tell
the Chief all you know about it.”</p>
<p>Although Martin had not addressed Jenny, he
turned to her now as if inviting her story.</p>
<p>And Jenny bridled, shook out her feather boa,
made a futile attempt to pull her brief skirt a trifle
farther down toward a silk-stockinged ankle, and
began:</p>
<p>“Of course, when Mr. Gately went into his
office he most gen’ally went in the middle door,
right into his pers’nal office. He didn’t go through
my room. And, so, yest’day, he went in the middle
door, but right away, almost, he opened my
door and stuck his head in, and says, ‘Don’t let
anybody in to see me this afternoon, unless you
come and ask me first.’”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t this a general rule?”</p>
<p>“’Most always; but sometimes somebody I’d
know’d come, like Mr. Talcott or Miss Olive, and
they’d just nod or smile at me and walk right in
at Mr. Gately’s door. So I says, ‘Yes, sir,’ and I
looked sharp that nobody rushed me. Mr. Gately,
he trusted me, and I was careful to do just what
he said, always.”</p>
<p>“Well, go on. Who called?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_85">[85]</div>
<p>“First, Mr. Smith; and then Mrs. Driggs; and
after them, Miss Olive.”</p>
<p>“Miss Raynor?”</p>
<p>“Yes, of course!” and Jenny spoke flippantly.
“I even announced her, ’cause I had strick orders.
Miss Olive, she just laughed and waited till I
come back and said she might go in.”</p>
<p>“What time was this?”</p>
<p>“Couldn’t say for sure. ’Long about two or
three, I guess.”</p>
<p>Jenny was assiduously chewing gum, and her
manner was far from deferential, which annoyed
the Chief.</p>
<p>“Try to remember more nearly,” he said, sharply.
“Was Miss Raynor there before or after the other
two callers you mentioned?”</p>
<p>“Well, now, it’s awful hard to tell that.” Jenny
cocked her head on one side, and indulged in what
she doubtless considered most fetching eye-play.
“I ain’t a two-legged time-table!”</p>
<p>“Be careful,” advised the Chief. “I
want straight answers, not foolishness, from
you.”</p>
<p>Jenny sulked. “I’m givin’ it to you as straight’s
I can, Mr. Chief. Honest to goodness, I don’t
know if Miss Olive was just before the Driggs hen
or after her!”</p>
<p>“Also, be more careful of your choice of words.
Did Mrs. Driggs go back through your room when
she left?”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_86">[86]</div>
<p>“Yes, I guess she did,—but,—lemmesee, no, I
guess she didn’t either.”</p>
<p>“Isn’t your memory very short?”</p>
<p>“For such trifles, yes, sir. But I can remember
lots of things real easy. I’ve got a date now,
with——”</p>
<p>“Stop! If you don’t look out, young woman,
you’ll be locked up!”</p>
<p>“Behave pretty, now, Jenny girl,” urged her
father, who was quite evidently the slave of his
resplendent offspring; “don’t be flip; this here’s no
place for such-like manners.”</p>
<p>“You’re right, it isn’t,” agreed the Chief, and
he glared at Jenny, who was utterly unmoved by
his sternness.</p>
<p>“Well, ain’t I behaving pretty?” and the silly
thing giggled archly and folded her hands with an
air of mock meekness.</p>
<p>Continued harsh words from the Chief, however,
made her at last tell a straight and coherent story,
but it threw no light on the mysterious caller. In
fact, Jenny knew nothing whatever of him, save
that she saw or thought she saw him run downstairs,
with a pistol in his hand.</p>
<p>“What sort of hat did the man wear?” asked
the Chief, to get some sort of description.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,—a soft hat, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Not a Derby?”</p>
<p>“Oh, yes! I do believe it <i>was</i> a Derby! And
he had on an overcoat——”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_87">[87]</div>
<p>“A dark one?”</p>
<p>“No,—sort of—oh, I guess it wasn’t an overcoat,—but
a, you know, Norfolk jacket, like.”</p>
<p>“A Norfolk, and no overcoat on a day like yesterday!
I don’t believe you saw any man at all,
Jenny!”</p>
<p>“Do you know, that’s what I think sometimes,
Mr. Chief! It almost seems’s if I dreamed it.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean! Don’t you dare guy me,
miss!”</p>
<p>“I’m not,” and Jenny’s saucy face looked serious
enough now. “But it was all so fearful sudden,
and I was so struck all of a heap, that I just can’t
say what was so and what wasn’t!”</p>
<p>“That does seem to be your difficulty. You sit
over there and think the matter over, while I talk
to your sister.”</p>
<p>Minny, a quiet, pretty girl, was as reticent as
Jenny was voluble. But after all, she had little to
tell. She had brought no one up in her elevator to
see Mr. Gately beside Miss Raynor that she knew
of except the man named Smith and Mrs. Driggs.</p>
<p>“Did these people all go down in your car, too?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure. The cars were fairly crowded,
and I know Miss Raynor did not, but I’m not so
sure about the others.”</p>
<p>Well, Minny’s evidence amounted to nothing,
either, for though she told of several strangers who
got on or off her car at various floors, she knew
nothing about them, and they could not be traced.</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_88">[88]</div>
<p>The three Boyds were quizzed a little more and
then old Joe Boyd, the father, and Minny were allowed
to go back to their respective posts, but the
Chief held Jenny for further grilling. He had a
hope, I felt sure, that he could get from her some
hint of Mr. Gately’s personal affairs. He had
heard of the hatpin, and though he hadn’t yet mentioned
it definitely, I knew he was satisfied it was
not Miss Raynor’s, and he meant to put Jenny
through a mild sort of third degree.</p>
<p>I was about to depart, for I knew I would not
be invited to this session, and, too, I could learn the
result later.</p>
<p>Then an officer came in, and after a whispered
word to Chief Martin they beckoned to me.</p>
<p>“Do you know Amory Manning?” the Chief
inquired.</p>
<p>“I met him yesterday for the first time,” I replied,
“but I have known of him before.”</p>
<p>“Where does he live?”</p>
<p>“Up around Gramercy Park somewhere, I
think.”</p>
<p>“That’s right, he does. Well, the man is missing.”</p>
<p>“Missing! Why, I saw him last night,—that is,
yesterday afternoon, and he was all right then.”</p>
<p>“I’ve had men searching for him all the morning,”
the Chief went on, “and he’s nowhere to be
found. He wasn’t at his rooms at all last night.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_89">[89]</div>
<p>I harked back. I had last seen Manning getting
off the Third Avenue car at Twenty-second Street,—just
where he would naturally get off to go to
his home.</p>
<p>I told this, and concluded, “he must have
changed his mind, then, and gone somewhere else
than to his rooms.”</p>
<p>“Yes, it looks that way,” agreed the Chief.
“But where did he go? That’s the question. He
can’t be found.”</p>
<div class="pb" id="Page_90">[90]</div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />