The Circular Study

by Anna Katharine Green

  CHAPTER VI.

  SUGGESTIONS FROM AN OLD FRIEND.

  The look with which this amiable spinster met his eye was one which astranger would have found it hard to understand. He found it hard tounderstand himself, perhaps because he had never before seen this ladywhen she was laboring under an opinion of herself that was not one ofperfect complacency.

  "Miss Butterworth! What does this mean? Have you----"

  "There!" The word came with some sharpness. "You have detected me at myold tricks, and I am correspondingly ashamed, and you triumphant. Thegray parasol you have been good enough to send to my house is not mine,but I was in the room where you picked it up, as you have so cleverlyconcluded, and as it is useless for me to evade your perspicacity, Ihave come here to confess."

  "Ah!" The detective was profoundly interested at once. He drew a chairup to Miss Butterworth's side and sat down. "You were there!" herepeated; "and when? I do not presume to ask for what purpose."

  "But I shall have to explain my purpose not to find myself at too greata disadvantage," she replied with grim decision. "Not that I like todisplay my own weakness, but that I recognize the exigencies of theoccasion, and fully appreciate your surprise at finding that I, astranger to Mr. Adams, and without the excuse which led to my formerinterference in police matters, should have so far forgotten myself asto be in my present position before you. This was no affair of myimmediate neighbor, nor did it seek me. I sought it, sir, and in thisway. I wish I had gone to Jericho first; it might have meant longertravel and much more expense; but it would have involved me in lesshumiliation and possible publicity. Mr. Gryce, I never meant to be mixedup with another murder case. I have shown my aptitude for detective workand received, ere now, certain marks of your approval; but my head wasnot turned by them--at least I thought not--and I was tolerably sincerein my determination to keep to my own _metier_ in future and not suffermyself to be allured by any inducements you might offer into theexercise of gifts which may have brought me praise in the past, butcertainly have not brought me happiness. But the temptation came, notthrough you, or I might have resisted it, but through a combination ofcircumstances which found me weak, and, in a measure, unprepared. Inother words, I was surprised into taking an interest in this affair. Oh,I am ashamed of it, so ashamed that I have made the greatest endeavor tohide my participation in the matter, and thinking I had succeeded indoing so, was congratulating myself upon my precautions, when I foundthat parasol thrust in my face and realized that you, if no one else,knew that Amelia Butterworth had been in Mr. Adams's room of death priorto yourself. Yet I thought I had left no traces behind me. Could youhave seen----"

  "Miss Butterworth, you dropped five small spangles from your robe. Youwore a dress spangled with black sequins, did you not? Besides, youmoved the inkstand, and--Well, I will never put faith in circumstantialevidence again. I saw these tokens of a woman's presence, heard what theboy had to say of the well-dressed lady who had sent him into thedrug-store with a message to the police, and drew the conclusion--I mayadmit it to you--that it was this woman who had wielded the assassin'sdagger, and not the deaf-and-dumb butler, who, until now, has borne theblame of it. Therefore I was anxious to find her, little realizing whatwould be the result of my efforts, or that I should have to proffer hermy most humble apologies."

  "Do not apologize to me. I had no business to be there, or, at least, toleave the five spangles you speak of, behind me on Mr. Adams's miserablefloor. I was simply passing by the house; and had I been the woman Ionce was, that is, a woman who had never dipped into a mystery, I shouldhave continued on my way, instead of turning aside. Sir, it's a curioussensation to find yourself, however innocent, regarded by a whole cityfull of people as the cause or motive of a terrible murder, especiallywhen you have spent some time, as I have, in the study of crime and thepursuit of criminals. I own I don't enjoy the experience. But I havebrought it on myself. If I had not been so curious--But it was notcuriosity I felt. I will never own that I am subject to mere curiosity;it was the look on the young man's face. But I forget myself. I amrambling in all directions when I ought to be telling a consecutivetale. Not my usual habit, sir; this you know; but I am not quite myselfat this moment. I declare I am more upset by this discovery of myindiscretion than I was by Mr. Trohm's declaration of affection in LostMan's Lane! Give me time, Mr. Gryce; in a few minutes I will be morecoherent."

  "I am giving you time," he returned with one of his lowest bows. "Thehalf-dozen questions I long to ask have not yet left my lips, and I sithere, as you must yourself acknowledge, a monument of patience."

  "So you thought this deed perpetrated by an outsider," she suddenlybroke in. "Most of the journals--I read them very carefully thismorning--ascribed the crime to the man you have mentioned. And thereseems to be good reason for doing so. The case is not a simple one, Mr.Gryce; it has complications--I recognized that at once, and that iswhy--but I won't waste another moment in apologies. You have a right toany little fact I may have picked up in my unfortunate visit, and thereis one which I failed to find included in any account of the murder. Mr.Adams had other visitors besides myself in those few fatal minutespreceding his death. A young man and woman were with him. I saw themcome out of the house. It was at the moment I was passing----"

  "Tell your story more simply, Miss Butterworth. What first drew yourattention to the house?"

  "There! That is the second time you have had to remind me to be moredirect. You will not have to do so again, Mr. Gryce. To begin, then, Inoticed the house, because I always notice it. I never pass it withoutgiving a thought to its ancient history and indulging in more or lessspeculation as to its present inmates. When, therefore, I found myselfin front of it yesterday afternoon on my way to the art exhibition, Inaturally looked up, and--whether by an act of providence or not, Icannot say--it was precisely at that instant the inner door of thevestibule burst open, and a young man appeared in the hall, carrying ayoung woman in his arms. He seemed to be in a state of intenseexcitement, and she in a dead faint; but before they had attracted theattention of the crowd, he had placed her on her feet, and, taking heron his arm, dragged her down the stoop and into the crowd of passers-by,among whom they presently disappeared. I, as you may believe, stoodrooted to the ground in my astonishment, and not only endeavored to seein what direction they went, but lingered long enough to take a peepinto the time-honored interior of this old house, which had been leftopen to view by the young man's forgetting to close the front doorbehind him. As I did so, I heard a cry from within. It was muffled andremote, but unmistakably one of terror and anguish: and, led by animpulse I may live to regret, as it seems likely to plunge me into muchunpleasantness, I rushed up the stoop and went in, shutting the doorbehind me, lest others should be induced to follow.

  "So far, I had acted solely from instinct; but once in that semi-darkhall, I paused and asked what business I had there, and what excuse Ishould give for my intrusion if I encountered one or more of theoccupants of the house. But a repetition of the cry, coming as I amready to swear from the farthest room on the parlor floor, together witha sharp remembrance of the wandering eye and drawn countenance of theyoung man whom I had seen stagger hence a moment before, with an almostfainting woman in his arms, drew me on in spite of my feminineinstincts; and before I knew it, I was in the circular study and beforethe prostrate form of a seemingly dying man. He was lying as youprobably found him a little later, with the cross on his breast and adagger in his heart; but his right hand was trembling, and when Istooped to lift his head, he gave a shudder and then settled intoeternal stillness. I, a stranger from the street, had witnessed his lastbreath while the young man who had gone out----"

  "Can you describe him? Did you encounter him close enough forrecognition?"

  "Yes, I think I would know him again. I can at least describe hisappearance. He wore a checked suit, very natty, and was more thanusually tall and fine-looking. But his chief peculiarity lay in hisexpression. I never saw on any face, no, not on the stage
, at the climaxof the most heart-rending tragedy, a greater accumulation of mortalpassion struggling with the imperative necessity for restraint. Theyoung girl whose blond head lay on his shoulder looked like a saint inthe clutch of a demon. She had seen death, but he--But I prefer not tobe the interpreter of that expressive countenance. It was lost to myview almost immediately, and probably calmed itself in the face of thethrong he entered, or we would be hearing about him to-day. The girlseemed to be devoid of almost all feeling. I should not remember her."

  "And was that all? Did you just look at that recumbent man and vanish?Didn't you encounter the butler? Haven't you some definite knowledge toimpart in his regard which will settle his innocence or fix his guilt?"

  "I know no more about him than you do, sir, except that he was not inthe room by the time I reached it, and did not come into it during mypresence there. Yet it was his cry that led me to the spot; or do youthink it was that of the bird I afterward heard shouting and screamingin the cage over the dead man's head?"

  "It might have been the bird," admitted Mr. Gryce. "Its call is veryclear, and it seems strangely intelligent. What was it saying while youstood there?"

  "Something about Eva. 'Lovely Eva, maddening Eva! I love Eva! Eva!Eva!'"

  "Eva? Wasn't it 'Evelyn? Poor Evelyn?'"

  "No, it was Eva. I thought he might mean the girl I had just seencarried out. It was an unpleasant experience, hearing this bird shriekout these cries in the face of the man lying dead at my feet."

  "Miss Butterworth, you didn't simply stand over that man. You knelt downand looked in his face."

  "I acknowledge it, and caught my dress in the filagree of the cross.Naturally I would not stand stock still with a man drawing his lastbreath under my eye."

  "And what else did you do? You went to the table----"

  "Yes, I went to the table."

  "And moved the inkstand?"

  "Yes, I moved the inkstand, but very carefully, sir, very carefully."

  "Not so carefully but that I could see where it had been sitting beforeyou took it up: the square made by its base in the dust of the table didnot coincide with the place afterwards occupied by it."

  "Ah, that comes from your having on your glasses and I not. I endeavoredto set it down in the precise place from which I lifted it."

  "Why did you take it up at all? What were you looking for?"

  "For clews, Mr. Gryce. You must forgive me, but I was seeking for clews.I moved several things. I was hunting for the line of writing whichought to explain this murder."

  "The line of writing?"

  "Yes. I have not told you what the young girl said as she slipped withher companion into the crowd."

  "No; you have spoken of no words. Have you any such clew as that? MissButterworth, you are fortunate, very fortunate."

  Mr. Gryce's look and gesture were eloquent, but Miss Butterworth, withan access of dignity, quietly remarked:

  "I was not to blame for being in the way when they passed, nor could Ihelp hearing what she said."

  "And what was it, madam? Did she mention a paper?"

  "Yes, she cried in what I now remember to have been a tone of affright:'You have left that line of writing behind!' I did not attach muchimportance to these words then, but when I came upon the dying man, soevidently the victim of murder, I recalled what his late visitor hadsaid and looked about for this piece of writing."

  "And did you find it, Miss Butterworth? I am ready, as you see, for anyrevelation you may now make."

  "For one which would reflect dishonor on me? If I had found any paperexplaining this tragedy, I should have felt bound to have called theattention of the police to it. I did notify them of the crime itself."

  "Yes, madam; and we are obliged to you; but how about your silence inregard to the fact of two persons having left that house immediatelyupon, or just preceding, the death of its master?"

  "I reserved that bit of information. I waited to see if the police wouldnot get wind of these people without my help. I sincerely wished to keepmy name out of this inquiry. Yet I feel a decided relief now that I havemade my confession. I never could have rested properly after seeing somuch, and----"

  "Well?"

  "Thinking my own thoughts in regard to what I saw, if I had found myselfcompelled to bridle my tongue while false scents were being followed anddelicate clews overlooked or discarded without proper attention. Iregard this murder as offering the most difficult problem that has evercome in my way, and, therefore----"

  "Yes, madam."

  "I cannot but wonder if an opportunity has been afforded me forretrieving myself in your eyes. I do not care for the opinion of any oneelse as to my ability or discretion; but I should like to make youforget my last despicable failure in Lost Man's Lane. It is a soreremembrance to me, Mr. Gryce, which nothing but a fresh success can makeme forget."

  "Madam, I understand you. You have formulated some theory. You considerthe young man with the tell-tale face guilty of Mr. Adams's death. Well,it is very possible. I never thought the butler was rehearsing a crimehe had himself committed."

  "Do you know who the young man is I saw leaving that house sohurriedly?"

  "Not the least in the world. You are the first to bring him to myattention."

  "And the young girl with the blonde hair?"

  "It is the first I have heard of her, too."

  "I did not scatter the rose leaves that were found on that floor."

  "No, it was she. She probably wore a bouquet in her belt."

  "Nor was that frippery parasol mine, though I did lose a good, stout,serviceable one somewhere that day."

  "It was hers; I have no doubt of it."

  "Left by her in the little room where she was whiling away the timeduring which the gentlemen conversed together, possibly about that bitof writing she afterward alluded to."

  "Certainly."

  "Her mind was not expectant of evil, for she was smoothing her hair whenthe shock came----"

  "Yes, madam, I follow you."

  "And had to be carried out of the place after----"

  "What?"

  "She had placed that cross on Mr. Adams's breast. That was a woman'sact, Mr. Gryce."

  "I am glad to hear you say so. The placing of that cross on a layman'sbreast was a mystery to me, and is still, I must own. Great remorse orgreat fright only can account for it."

  "You will find many mysteries in this case, Mr. Gryce."

  "As great a number as I ever encountered."

  "I have to add one."

  "Another?"

  "It concerns the old butler."

  "I thought you did not see him."

  "I did not see him in the room where Mr. Adams lay."

  "Ah! Where, then?"

  "Upstairs. My interest was not confined to the scene of the murder.Wishing to spread the alarm, and not being able to rouse any one below,I crept upstairs, and so came upon this poor wretch going through thesignificant pantomime that has been so vividly described in the papers."

  "Ah! Unpleasant for you, very. I imagine you did not stop to talk tohim."

  "No, I fled. I was extremely shaken up by this time and knew only onething to do, and that was to escape. But I carried one as yet unsolvedenigma with me. How came I to hear this man's cries in Mr. Adams'sstudy, and yet find him on the second floor when I came to search thehouse? He had not time to mount the stairs while I was passing down thehall."

  "It is a case of mistaken impression. Your ears played you false. Thecries came from above, not from Mr. Adams's study."

  "My ears are not accustomed to play me tricks. You must seek anotherexplanation."

  "I have ransacked the house; there are no back stairs."

  "If there were, the study does not communicate with them."

  "And you heard his voice in the study?"

  "Plainly."

  "Well, you have given me a poser, madam."

  "And I will give you another. If he was the perpetrator of this crime,how comes it that he was no
t detected and denounced by the young peopleI saw going out? If, on the contrary, he was simply the witness ofanother man's blow--a blow which horrified him so much that it unseatedhis reason--how comes it that he was able to slide away from the doorwhere he must have stood without attracting the attention and bringingdown upon himself the vengeance of the guilty murderer?"

  "He may be one of the noiseless kind, or, rather, may have been suchbefore this shock unsettled his mind."

  "True, but he would have been seen. Recall the position of the doorway.If Mr. Adams fell where he was struck, the assailant must have had thatdoor directly before him. He could not have helped seeing any onestanding in it."

  "That is true; your observations are quite correct. But those youngpeople were in a disordered state of mind. The condition in which theyissued from the house proves this. They probably did not troublethemselves about this man. Escape was all they sought. And, you see,they did escape."

  "But you will find them. A man who can locate a woman in this great cityof ours with no other clew than five spangles, dropped from her gown,will certainly make this parasol tell the name of its owner."

  "Ah, madam, the credit of this feat is not due to me. It was the initialstroke of a young man I propose to adopt into my home and heart; thesame who brought you here to-night. Not much to look at, madam, butpromising, very promising. But I doubt if even he can discover the younglady you mean, with no other aid than is given by this parasol. New Yorkis a big place, ma'am, a big place. Do you know how Sweetwater came tofind you? Through your virtues, ma'am; through your neat and methodicalhabits. Had you been of a careless turn of mind and not given to mendingyour dresses when you tore them, he might have worn his heart out in avain search for the lady who had dropped the five spangles in Mr.Adams's study. Now luck, or, rather, your own commendable habit, was inhis favor this time; but in the prospective search you mentioned, hewill probably have no such assistance."

  "Nor will he need it. I have unbounded faith in your genius, which,after all, is back of the skilfulness of this new pupil of yours. Youwill discover by some means the lady with the dove-colored plumes, andthrough her the young gentleman who accompanied her."

  "We shall at least put our energies to work in that direction.Sweetwater may have an idea----"

  "And I may have one."

  "You?"

  "Yes; I indulged in but little sleep last night. That dreadful room withits unsolved mystery was ever before me. Thoughts would come;possibilities would suggest themselves. I imagined myself probing itssecrets to the bottom and----"

  "Wait, madam; how many of its so-called secrets do you know? You saidnothing about the lantern."

  "It was burning with a red light when I entered."

  "You did not touch the buttons arranged along the table top?"

  "No; if there is one thing I do not touch, it is anything which suggestsan electrical contrivance. I am intensely feminine, sir, in all myinstincts, and mechanisms of any kind alarm me. To all such things Igive a wide berth. I have not even a telephone in my house. Someallowance must be made for the natural timidity of woman."

  Mr. Gryce suppressed a smile. "It is a pity," he remarked. "Had youbrought another light upon the scene, you might have been blessed withan idea on a subject that is as puzzling as any connected with the wholeaffair."

  "You have not heard what I have to say on a still more importantmatter," said she. "When we have exhausted the one topic, we may bothfeel like turning on the fresh lights you speak of. Mr. Gryce, on whatdoes this mystery hinge? On the bit of writing which these young peoplewere so alarmed at having left behind them."

  "Ah! It is from that you would work! Well, it is a good point to startfrom. But we have found no such bit of writing."

  "Have you searched for it? You did not know till now that any importancemight be attached to a morsel of paper with some half-dozen wordswritten on it."

  "True, but a detective searches just the same. We ransacked that room asfew rooms have been ransacked in years. Not for a known clew, but for anunknown one. It seemed necessary in the first place to learn who thisman was. His papers were consequently examined. But they told nothing.If there had been a scrap of writing within view or in his desk----"

  "It was not on his person? You had his pockets searched, hisclothes----"

  "A man who has died from violence is always searched, madam. I leave nostone unturned in a mysterious case like this."

  Miss Butterworth's face assumed an indefinable expression ofsatisfaction, which did not escape Mr. Gryce's eye, though that memberwas fixed, according to his old habit, on the miniature of her fatherwhich she wore, in defiance of fashion, at her throat.

  "I wonder," said she, in a musing tone, "if I imagined or really saw onMr. Adams's face a most extraordinary expression; something more thanthe surprise or anguish following a mortal blow? A look ofdetermination, arguing some superhuman resolve taken at the moment ofdeath, or--can you read that face for me? Or did you fail to perceiveaught of what I say? It would really be an aid to me at this moment toknow."

  "I noted that look. It was not a common one. But I cannot read it foryou----"

  "I wonder if the young man you call Sweetwater can. I certainly think ithas a decided bearing on this mystery; such a fold to the lips, such alook of mingled grief and--what was that you said? Sweetwater has notbeen admitted to the room of death? Well, well, I shall have to make myown suggestion, then. I shall have to part with an idea that may betotally valueless, but which has impressed me so that it must out, if Iam to have any peace to-night. Mr. Gryce, allow me to whisper in yourear. Some things lose force when spoken aloud."

  And leaning forward, she breathed a short sentence into his ear whichmade him start and regard her with an amazement which rapidly grew intoadmiration.

  "Madam!" he cried, rising up that he might the better honor her with oneof his low bows, "your idea, whether valueless or not, is one which isworthy of the acute lady who proffers it. We will act on it, ma'am, actat once. Wait till I have given my orders. I will not keep you long."

  And with another bow, he left the room.