CHAPTER VI.
"WHICH?"
"Give me a few moments of your time, doctor, after your guest hasretired for the night."
For more than two hours after his parting with Hilda Grant, Ferrars hadtalked, first with Robert Brierly alone, and then with the doctor as athird party. At the end, the three had gone together to look upon theface of the dead, and now, as the doctor nodded over his shoulders andsilently followed, or, rather, guided Brierly from the room and towardhis sleeping apartment, the detective turned back, and when they wereout of hearing, removed the covering from the still face, and taking alamp from the table near, stood looking down upon the dead.
"No," he murmured at last, as he replaced the lamp and turned back tothe side of the bier. "You never earned such a fate. You must have livedand died a good man; an honest man, and yet----" He turned quickly atthe sound of the opening door. "Doctor, come here and tell me how yourkeen eyes and worldly intelligence weighed, measured and gauged this manwho lies here with that look, that inscrutable look they all wear oncethey have seen the mystery unveiled. What manner of man did you findhim?"
Doctor Barnes came closer and gazed reverently down upon the dead face.
"There lies a man who could better afford to face the mystery suddenly,without warning, than you or I or any other living man I know. A goodman, a true Christian gentleman I honestly believe, too modest perhapsto ever claim and hold his true place in this grasping world. That heshould be struck down by the hand of an assassin is past belief, andyet----" He paused abruptly and bent down to replace the covering overthe still, handsome face.
"And yet," repeated the detective, "do you really think that this manwas murdered?"
"Ferrars!" Both men were moving away from the side of the bier, one oneither hand, and, as they came together at its foot, the speaker put ahand upon the shoulder of the detective. "To-morrow I hope you willthoroughly overlook the wood road beyond the school house, the lakeshore, from the village to the knoll or mound; and the thin strip ofwood between, and then tell me if you think it possible for any one,however stupid or erratic of aim, to shoot by accident a man standing inthat place. There is no spot from which a bullet could have been firedwhence a man could not have been seen perfectly by that figure by thelake side. The trees are so scattered, the bushes so low, the view upand down so open. It's impossible!"
"That is your fixed opinion?"
"It is. Nothing but actual proof to the contrary would change it."
When they had passed from the room and the doctor had softly closed thedoor, leaving the dead alone in the silence and the shaded lamp-light,they paused again, face to face, in the outer office.
"Have you any suggestions as regards the inquest, Ferrars?" asked theone.
"I have been thinking about that foolish lad, the one who saw poorBrierly in the wood. Could you get him here before the inquiry? We mightbe able to learn more in this way. You know the lad, of course?"
"Of course. There will be very little to be got from him. But I'll havehim here for you."
"Do so. And the lady, the one who drove the pony; you will call her, Isuppose?"
"Certainly."
"That is all, I think. If you can drive me to the spot very early,before we breakfast even, I would like it. You need not stop for me. Ican find my way back, prefer to, in fact. You say it is not far?"
"Little more than half a mile from the school-house."
"Then--good night, doctor."
Doctor Barnes occupied a six-room cottage with a mansard, and he hadfitted up the room originally meant to be a sitting-room, for his ownsleeping apartment. It was at the front of the main cottage, and back ofit was the inner office where the body lay, the outer office being in awing built out from this rear room and opening conveniently outward, inview of the front entrance, and very close to a little side gate. Aporch fitted snugly into the angle made by the former sitting-room andthis outer office, and both of these rooms could be entered from thisconvenient porch. Robert Brierly occupied the room opposite thatassigned the detective with the width of the hall between them, and thedoctor, although Ferrars did not know this, had camped down in his outeroffice.
Half an hour after he had parted from the doctor, Frank Ferrars, as hewas called by his nearest and most familiar friends, opened the doorupon the corner porch and stepped noiselessly out. When he believedthat he had found an unusual case--and he cared for no others--heseldom slept until he had thought out some plan of work, adopted sometheory, or evolved a possibility, or, as he whimsically termed it, a"stepping stone" toward clearer knowledge.
He had answered the doctor's summons with little thought of what itmight mean, or lead to, and simply because it was from "Walt." Barnes.Then he had heard the doctor's brief story with some surprise, and aninclination to think it might end, after all, in a case of accidentalshooting, or self-inflicted death. But when he looked into the woefuleyes of lovely Hilda Grant, and clasped the hand of the dead man'sbrother, the case took on a new interest. Here was no commonplacevillage maiden hysterical and forlorn, no youth breathing out dramaticvows of vengeance upon an unknown foe. At once his heart went out tothem, his sympathy was theirs, and the sympathy of Francis Ferrars wasof a very select nature indeed.
And thus he had looked at the beautiful refined face of the dead man, aface that told of gentleness, sweetness, loyalty, all manifest in thecalm dignity of death. Not a strong face, as his brother's face wasstrong, but manly with the true Christian manliness, and strong with thestrength of truth. Looking upon this face, all thought ofself-destruction forsook the detective, and he stood, after that firstlong gaze, vowed to right this deadly wrong in the only way left to amortal.
But how strange that such a man, in such a place, should be snatched outof life by the hand of an assassin! He must think over it, and he couldthink best when passing slowly along some quiet by-way or street. So heclosed his door softly, and all unconscious that he was observed fromthe window of the outer office, he vaulted across the low fence,striking noiselessly upon the soft turf on the further side; and, aftera moment of hesitation, turned the corner and went down Main Street.
Past the shops, the fine new church, the two hotels, one new and oneold. Past the little park and around it to the street, terraced and treeplanted, where the more pretentious dwellings and several modish newhouses, built for the summer boarder, stood. It was a balmy night. Everystar seemed out, and there was a moon, bright, but on the wane.
Ferrars walked slowly upon the soft turf, avoiding the boards and stonesof the walks and street crossings. Now and then he paused to look atsome fair garden, lovely in the moonlight, or up at the stars, and once,at least, at a window, open to the breezes of night and revealing thatwhich sent Ferrars homeward presently with a question on his lips. Hepaced the length of the terraced street, and passed by the cottagewhere Hilda Grant waked and wept perchance, and as he re-entered hisroom silently and shadow-like, he said to himself--
"Is it fate or Providence that prompts us to these reasonless acts? Imay be wrong, I may be mistaken, but I could almost believe that I havefound my first clue."
And yet he had heard nothing, and yet all he had seen was a woman'sshadow, reflected fitfully by the waning moon, as she paced her room toand fro, to and fro, like some restless or tormented animal, and now andthen lifted her arms aloft in despair? in malediction? in triumph? inentreaty?--which?
In spite of his brief rest, if rest it was, Ferrars was astir beforesunrise: but, even so, he found the doctor awake before him, and hishorse in waiting at the side gate.
They drove swiftly and were soon within sight of the Indian Mound.
"Show me first the place where the body was found," Ferrars had said tohis guide as they set out, and when the two stood at this spot, whichsome one had marked with two small stakes, and the doctor had answeredsome brief questions regarding the road through the fringe of wood, themound, and the formation of the lake shore further south or away fromthe town, the detective announced his wi
sh to be left alone to pursuehis work in his own way.
"Your guest will be astir early if I am not much mistaken," he said."And you have Miss Grant to look after, and may be wanted for a dozenreasons before I return. I can easily walk back, and think you will seeme at the breakfast hour, which you must on no account delay."
Two hours later, and just as the doctor's man had announced breakfast,the detective returned, and at once joined the two in the dining-room.
He said nothing of his morning excursion, but the doctor's quick eyenoted his look of gravity, and a certain preoccupation of manner whichFerrars did not attempt to hide. Before the meal was ended Doctor Barneswas convinced that something was puzzling the detective, and troublinghim not a little.
After breakfast, and while Brierly was for the moment absent from theporch where they had seated themselves with their cigars, Ferrarsasked--
"Where does the lady live who drove Mr. Doran's black pony yesterday. Isit at an hotel?"
"It is at the Glenville, an aristocratic family hotel on the terrace.She is a Mrs. Jamieson."
"Do you know her?"
"She sent for me once to prescribe for some small ailment not long ago."
"Has she been summoned?"
"She will be."
"If there was any one in the woods, or approaching the mound by the roadfrom the south, she should have seen them, or him; even a boat mighthave been seen through the trees for some distance southward, could itnot?"
"Yes. For two miles from the town the lake is visible from the woodroad. Ah! here comes Doran and our constable."
For half an hour the doctor was busy with Doran, the constable, and anumber of other men who had or wished to have some small part to play inthis second act of the tragedy, the end of which no one could foresee.Then, having dispatched them on their various missions, the doctor setout to inquire after the welfare of Hilda Grant; and Robert Brierly, whocould not endure his suspense and sorrow in complete inaction, askedpermission to accompany him, thus leaving the detective, who was quitein the mood for a little solitude just then, in possession of the porch,three wicker chairs and his cigar.
But not for long. Before he had smoked and wrinkled his brows, as washis habit when things were not developing to his liking, and ponderedten minutes alone, he heard the click of the front gate, and turned inhis chair to see a lady, petite, graceful, and dressed in mourning,coming toward him with quick, light steps. She was looking straight athim as she came, but as he rose at her approach, she stopped short, andstanding a few steps from the porch, said crisply--
"Your pardon. I have made a mistake. I am looking for Doctor Barnes."
"He has gone out for a short time only. Will you be seated, madam, andwait?"
She advanced a step and stopped irresolute.
"I suppose I must, unless," coming close to the lower step, "unless youcan tell me, sir, what I wish to know."
"If it is a question of medicine, madam, I fear----"
"It is not," she broke in, her voice dropping to a lower note. "It isabout the--the inquiry or examination into the death of the poor youngman who--but you know, of course."
"I have heard. The inquest is held at one o'clock."
"Ah! And do you know if the--the witnesses have been notified as yet?"
"They are being summoned now. As the doctor's guest I have but latelyheard him sending out the papers."
"Oh, indeed!" The lady put a tiny foot upon the step as if to mount, andthen withdrew it. "I think, if I may leave a message with you, sir," shesaid, "I will not wait."
"Most certainly," he replied.
"I chanced to be driving through the wood yesterday when the body wasdiscovered near the Indian Mound, and am told that I shall be wanted asa witness. I do not understand why."
"Possibly a mere form, which is nevertheless essential."
"I had engaged to go out with a yachting party," she went on, "andbefore I withdraw from the excursion I wish to be sure that I shallreally be required. My name is Mrs. Jamieson, and----"
"Then I can assure you, Mrs. Jamieson, that you are, or will be wanted,at least. My friend has sent a summons to a Mrs. Jamieson of theGlenville House."
"That is myself," the lady said, and turned to go. "Of course then Imust be at hand."
She nodded slightly and went away, going with a less appearance of hastedown the street and so from his sight.
When she was no longer visible the detective resumed his seat, andrelighted his cigar, making, as he did so, this very unprofessionalcomment--
"I hate to lose sight of a pretty woman, until I am sure of the colourof her eyes."
And yet Francis Ferrars had never been called, in any sense, a "ladies'man."
The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Page 6
