CHAPTER III
A TRAGEDY
I was awakened the next morning earlier than usual by a servant whoannounced in a hushed voice that Mr. White's man wanted to see me atonce. I was naturally disinclined to get up at that hour, it being but alittle after seven o'clock, and so directed that the man send me White'smessage. The reply that Mr. White was dead took me out of bed in aflash, and while I hurried into my clothes, the servant, in obedience tomy order, went after Benton. Although but a few minutes had elapsed, Iwas about dressed when he appeared at the door.
"Is it true," I asked, "that Mr. White is dead?"
"Yes," he answered, and then coming in and closing the door, whispered:
"He was murdered some time last night. I found him dead on the divan inthe sitting-room, when I went there this morning."
The news was almost too horrible to believe; but the white face andtrembling voice of the man who told it, carried conviction.
"How do you know he was murdered," I asked, after a moment's silence.
"He was stabbed," he said; "the dagger was sticking in him up to thehilt."
"Come on!" I told him, for now I was dressed, and I hurried down thestairs and out of the club, Benton following.
As we walked rapidly toward the house the events of the preceding nightrecurred to me, but I had no time then nor was I in a sufficientlycomposed mind to analyze them nor find their bearing, if any, on thesubsequent events of the night. Of Benton I asked no more questions; itdid not seem worth the while. He had apparently told all he knew of realimportance or if he knew more it was not likely I could easily elicitit. Afterwards, I over and over again tried to trace in the events ofthat evening some drift towards this tragedy, and I had much to ask ofBenton. But later I will tell of it all.
When we reached the house, Benton still dogging my footsteps, a fewidlers gathered about the door were the only evidence of anythingunusual having happened; but as I entered the doorway, I was stopped bya policeman, who refused me admission. He recognized Benton, however,and sent him for some superior, who appeared in the person of DetectiveMiles, whom I knew, and who admitted me. I remember I hesitated at thesitting-room entrance. It was terrible to think of looking upon the deadbody of a man I had left strong and well only a few hours before. Thedetective observed my action as he stood by to let me enter and said:
"It is a case of murder, Mr. Dallas, but there are no evidences of astruggle, and the victim looks as if he were only asleep."
A little ashamed of my momentary weakness, I crossed the threshold andstood in the room. For a moment I looked about me, avoidingunconsciously the first glance at the poor boy whom I knew lay on thedivan. Everything seemed as we had left it the night before. The cardsand score-card were still scattered over the centre table, the dishesand glasses stood on the sideboard--they had not even been washed,--andas far as I could judge, the chairs were arranged just as we hadoccupied them; it was hard to realize I had been away. Then I looked atthe divan. Yes, White was there, and, as the detective had said, lookedas if asleep. He was dressed as when I left him, in his evening clothes,and lay as a tired boy might have tossed himself down, resting on hisright side with his head drooping on the edge of the pillow, one armthrown over it, and his face partially hidden.
For a moment I thought it all must be some horrible mistake or a dream,so impossible did it seem that he was dead, but then, the detective, whohad stepped to the divan, placed his hand significantly on somethingscarcely observable protruding from his back, just behind the leftshoulder. It was the hilt of a dagger; the blade was buried.
I went over and stood beside the detective, and looked down at the bodyand felt the hand. It was cold. Death must have been some hours before.There could not have been much, if any, struggle, and there were nosigns of violence, except the dagger. This had apparently been takenfrom its sheath, which was still suspended from the wall, within easyreach, just over the divan. I had seen all I needed to tell me the manhad probably been murdered in his sleep, and I turned away to look morecarefully about the room.
Already the influence of my training in the District Attorney's officewas asserting itself, and I was looking for evidences of the criminal,even while sorrowing for my friend. At the first glance, as I have said,nothing had appeared changed in the room or its contents since I hadleft it the previous night, or rather that morning, but now as my eyefell upon the cards scattered over the centre table, and the score-cardstill undisturbed, I remembered the money that Van Bult had placed uponthe table and that was still there when I left. It was now gone. Ilooked on the floor where it might have fallen, but could see itnowhere; some one had taken it or perhaps it was in the dead man'spocket; but that would be determined at the right time, and I passed itby for further study of the room.
Just at this time Ned Davis, whom I had not observed on first entering,crossed over to me from a seat by the piano, and asked what I made ofit, adding some expression of horror at the terrible event. I told him Icould form no theory as yet; then he called my attention to the factthat a plaid ulster that White was in the habit of wearing in roughweather, and which had been lying across a chair near the window, haddisappeared.
I remembered it, also, but its disappearance seemed unaccountable uponany theory, and I concluded it would be found somewhere in the room orhall and dismissed it from my mind for the time. I asked Davis if he hadseen either Littell or Van Bult, but he said no; that he had beenaroused about seven o'clock by a maid servant of the house who wasalmost hysterical, and only managed to tell him to go down and "see whatwas there." He had dressed hastily and come down to find things as I sawthem, only that there was no one present at that time but a policemanand the landlady, the former standing guard over the door, which wasopen, and the latter sitting in a half-dazed state on a chair in thehall. That shortly afterwards another officer had appeared with the manto whom I had been talking, he presumed a detective, and he had thenbeen admitted to the room, but not questioned in any way or permitted totouch anything. He said Benton had also appeared at the door with thedetective and officer, but had rushed off again somewhere, and that hehad seen no one else, except a few of the inmates of the house, and Dr.Lincoln, who had come in, pronounced White dead and left again, sayingthat he would return at once.
I then turned from Davis, who had resumed his seat, and rejoined thedetective, but the latter knew less even than we, for to myquestion--what did he make of it?--he answered "Nothing yet. The man hasbeen murdered, I think, that is all."
I had seen more or less of this man, Miles, and knew him to be clevererthan the average detective, intelligent, and experienced in hisbusiness, and disinclined to hazard opinions prematurely orunofficially, and though I might by insistence have gleaned furtherexpression from him on account of my more or less authoritativeposition, I did not think it advisable at the time, and allowed thematter to pass to give my attention to Benton, who had just returned.
He told me he had sent a message to Littell at his hotel, and that hewould be down at once; also that he had been to Van Bult's rooms, butthat the latter had left the city by an early train, and his servant didnot know when he would return.
I asked him if he had summoned the officers and he said, "Yes"; that hehad found the officer on the beat, nearby, immediately after discoveringthe crime, and brought him to the house, and then, by his direction, hadnotified the police station, after which he had come to me. By this timethe doctor had returned, and a number of other people, official andotherwise, were in and about the room.
After a while, I saw Littell, who had come in without my observation,standing near the body. He turned away just then, and seeing me, cameover and joined me, but further than a mutual expression of grief andhorror, we had neither of us anything to say, and stood silentlyobserving the scene.
He recognized and spoke to Davis, and asked where Van Bult was. I toldhim Benton's report, and he said nothing further. After a while theInspector of Police directed every one but the officials to leave theroom,
and Littell and Davis were excluded with the others. I, by virtueof my office, remained and joined the Inspector.
He said the Coroner's jury were about to view the body and the premises,and that after they were gone the police would make a thoroughinvestigation and I decided to remain till it was completed. Veryshortly the Coroner and his jury entered, and the latter, after theirusual fashion, stood huddled together and stared about them.
Most of them seemed to take chief interest in a morbid way in the bodyand one or two were inclined to handle it, but this was stopped by theCoroner, who promptly proceeded to herd them and march them through therooms.
After they had made a tour of the sitting-room, they followed in wake ofthe Coroner, through the passageway and bedroom and back into thesitting-room again. How much they really did observe that was worthwhile, I don't know, but I think very little. This formal ceremony over,they were indulged in another look at poor White and then taken away tomeet later to "hear evidence and find a verdict."
Once they were gone, I drew a sigh of relief and in company with theInspector and detective entered upon what was the real search of thepremises. With the sitting-room and its contents I was very familiar,and nothing new was developed to interest me until the detective,leaning over the divan and White's body, reached down between it and thewall, where there was a space of a few inches, and brought out a smallplaid cap that I recognized as being a match to the plaid ulster thatwas missing.
The cap had been lying on the floor directly under White's head, whereit partially hung over the divan, and had apparently fallen there whenhe lay down. On seeing it I could not suppress an exclamation ofsurprise which drew the attention of the officers; so I explained tothem that I had not seen the cap since the night before, when it hadbeen lying on a chair with the ulster, and that from its present place Iconcluded White must have worn it, whereas I had not supposed he hadgone out after I had left him.
"But he did go out," said the Inspector, "and not very long after youleft."
"But if he wore that cap," I inquired, "how about the ulster that washere last night. Where is it gone?"
"We don't know yet," he replied, "what he wore when he went out; we onlyknow that he did go out." This ended the discussion of the subject forthe time.
From the sitting-room we went through the passageway, which containednothing but some coats and hats hanging from hooks, the plaid ulster notbeing among them, and then into the bedroom. I saw nothing of interesthere; the room was comfortably furnished, but not unusual in any way.The bed had not been disturbed, and everything was in perfect order. Twowindows in the rear opened into a yard about six feet below, and one wasdown from the top, about six inches; otherwise they were closed and theblinds drawn.
A door leading into the rear of the hall was also closed, and locked onthe inside. Here, too, there was no sign of the plaid ulster which nowseemed to me to bear some relation to the mystery.
Finding nothing further to especially interest me I left the officers tocontinue their search, and after looking through the adjoining bathroom,that disclosed nothing new, returned to the bedroom and thence, passingthe policeman standing guard at the door, went out of the house.
It was now past eleven o'clock, and I had eaten nothing that day. StillI was not hungry, but a feeling of faintness admonished me I mustbreakfast and at once, if only to fit myself for the difficulties of thecase, for I had by this time determined to make it my special duty, ifI could secure the consent of the District Attorney thereto.
After breakfasting at a neighboring restaurant, I took the "L" road tomy office, studying on the way over the facts surrounding White's deathas far as I knew them, but only two things seemed to promise any clue tothe mystery,--the missing money and ulster.
A Master Hand: The Story of a Crime Page 3
