by Jack Steele
CHAPTER IX
A SUMMONS
Once in the open air again, with the sunshine streaming upon him,Garrison felt a rebound in his thoughts. He started slowly up the roadto Branchville, thinking of the murder as he went.
The major requisite, he was thoroughly aware, was motive. Men werenever slain, except by lunatics, without a deeply grounded reason. Itdisturbed him greatly to realize that Dorothy might have possessed sucha motive in the danger of losing an inheritance, depending upon herimmediate marriage. He could not dismiss the thought that she hadsuddenly found herself in need of a husband, probably to satisfyconditions in her uncle's will; that she had paid Mr. Hardy a visit asa bride, but _without her husband_, and had since been obliged to cometo himself and procure his professional services _as such husband_,presumably for a short time only.
She was cheating the Robinsons now through him.
Of this much there could be no denial. She was stubbornly withholdingimportant information from himself as the masquerading husband. Shewas, therefore, capable of craft and scheming. The jewel mystery wasequally suspicious and unexplainable.
And yet, when his memory flew to the hour in which he had met her forthe very first time, his faith in her goodness and honesty swept uponhim with a force that banished all doubt from his being. Every wordshe had uttered, every look from her eyes, had borne her sincerity inupon him indelibly.
This was his argument, brought to bear upon himself. He did notconfess the element of love had entered the matter in the least.
And now, as he walked and began to try to show himself that she couldnot have done this awful crime, the uppermost thought that tortured hismind was a fear that she might have a _genuine_ husband.
He forced his thoughts back to the box of cigars, through the medium ofwhich John Hardy's death had been accomplished. What a diabolicallyclever device it had been! What scheme could be more complete to placethe deadly poison on the tongue of the helpless victim! The cigar isbitten--the stuff is in the mouth, and before its taste can manifestitself above the strong flavor of tobacco, the deadly work is done!And who would think, in ordinary circumstances, of looking in a cigarfor such a poison, and how could such a crime be traced?
The very diabolism of the device acquitted Dorothy, according toGarrison's judgment. He doubted if any clever woman, perhaps exceptingthe famous and infamous Lucrezia Borgia, could have fashioned a plan soutterly fiendish and cunning.
He began to reflect what the thing involved. In the first place, manysmokers cut the end from every cigar, preliminary to lighting up tosmoke. The person who had loaded this cigar must have known it wasJohn Hardy's habit to bite his cigars in the old-fashioned manner. Hehated this thought, for Dorothy would certainly be one to know of thishabit in her uncle.
On the other hand, however, the task of placing the poison was onerequiring nicety, for clumsy work would of course betray itself at thecigar-end thus prepared. To tamper with a well-made cigar like thisrequired that one should deftly remove or unroll the wrapper, hollowout a cavity, stuff in the poison, and then rewrap the whole withalmost the skill and art of a well-trained maker of cigars. ToGarrison's way of thinking, this rendered the task impossible for sucha girl as Dorothy.
He had felt from the first that any man of the inventive, mechanicalattributes doubtless possessed by Scott could be guilty of working outthis scheme.
Scott, too, possessed a motive. He wanted money. The victim wasinsured in his favor for a snug little fortune. And Scott had returnedto Hardy's room, according to Mrs. Wilson, while Hardy was away, andcould readily have opened the box, extracted one or two cigars, andprepared them for Hardy to smoke. He, too, would have known of Hardy'shabit of biting the end from his weed.
There was still the third possibility that even before Dorothy's visitto her uncle the cigars could have been prepared. Anyone supplied withthe knowledge that she had purchased the present, with intention totake it to her uncle, might readily have conceived and executed theplan and be doubly hidden from detection, since suspicion would fallupon Dorothy.
Aware of the great importance of once more examining the dead man'seffects at the coroner's office, Garrison hastened his pace. It stilllacked nearly an hour of noon when he re-entered Branchville. Theoffice he sought was a long block away from his hotel; nevertheless,before he reached the door a hotel bell-boy discerned him, waved hisarm, then abruptly disappeared inside the hostelry.
The coroner was emerging from his place of business up the street.Garrison accosted him.
"Oh, Mr. Pike," he said, "I've returned, you see. I've nearlyconcluded my work on the Hardy case; but I'd like, as a matter of form,to look again through the few trifling articles in your custody."
"Why, certainly," said Mr. Pike. "Come right in. I've got to be awayfor fifteen minutes, but I guess I can trust you in the shop."
He grinned good-naturedly, opened the drawer, and hurriedly departed.
Garrison drew up a chair before the desk.
At the door the hotel-boy appeared abruptly.
"Telegram for you, Mr. Garrison," he said. "Been at the office aboutan hour, but nobody knew where you was."
Garrison took it and tore it open. It read:
"Return as soon as possible. Important.
"DOROTHY."
"Any answer?" inquired the boy.
"No," said Garrison. "What's the next train for New York?"
"Eleven-forty-five," answered the boy. "Goes in fifteen minutes."
"All right. Have my suit-case down at the office."
He returned to his work.
Ignoring the few piled-up papers in the drawer, he took up the threecigars beside the box, the ones which had come from Hardy's pocket, andscrutinized them with the most minute attention.
So far as he could possibly detect, not one had been altered orrepasted on the end. He did not dare to cut them up, greatly as helonged to examine them thoroughly. He opened the box from which theyhad come.
For a moment his eye was attracted and held by the birthdaygreeting-card which Dorothy had written. The presence of the cardshowed a somewhat important fact--the box had been opened once beforeJohn Hardy forced up the lid, in order that the card might be depositedwithin.
His gaze went traveling from one even, nicely finished cigar-end to thenext, in his hope to discover signs of meddling. It was not until hecame to the end cigar that he caught at the slightest irregularity.Here, at last, was a change.
He took the cigar out carefully and held it up. There could be nodoubt it had been "mended" on the end. The wrapper was not onlyslightly discolored, but it bulged a trifle; it was not so faultlesslyturned as all the others, and the end was corkscrewed the meresttrifle, whereas, none of the others had been twisted to bring them to apoint.
Garrison needed that cigar. He was certain not another one in all thebox was suspicious. The perpetrator of the poisoning had evidentlyknown that Hardy's habit was to take his cigars from the end of the rowand not the center. No chance for mistake had been permitted. The twoend cigars had been loaded, and no more.
How to purloin this cigar without having it missed by Mr. Pike was aworry for a moment.
Garrison managed it simply. He took out a dozen cigars in the layer ontop and one from the layer next the bottom; then, rearranging theunderlying layer so as to fill in the empty space, he replaced theothers in perfect order in the topmost row, and thus had one cigar leftover to substitute for the one he had taken from the end.
He plumped the suspicious-looking weed into his pocket and closed thebox.
Eagerly glancing at the letters found among the dead man's possessions,he found a note from Dorothy. It had come from a town inMassachusetts. The date was over six weeks old.
It was addressed, "Dear Uncle John," and, in a girlish way, informedhim she had recently been married to a "splendid, brilliant young man,named Fairfax," whom she trusted her uncle would admire. They were offon their honeymoon, it added, but she
hoped they would not be longaway, for they both looked forward with pleasure to seeing him soon.
It might have been part of her trickery; he could not tell.
The envelope was missing. Where Hardy had been at the time ofreceiving the note was not revealed. The picture postal-card that Pikehad mentioned was also there. It, too, apparently, had come fromDorothy, and had been sent direct to Hickwood.
Once more returning to the box of cigars, Garrison took it up andturned it around in his hand. On the back, to his great delight, hediscovered a rubber-stamp legend, which was nothing more or less than acheap advertisement of the dealer who had sold the cigars.
He was one Isaac Blum, of an uptown address on Amsterdam Avenue, NewYork, dealer in stationery, novelties, and smokers' articles. Garrisonjotted down the name and address, together with the brand of thecigars, and was just about to rise and close the drawer when thecoroner returned.
"I shall have to go down to New York this morning," said Garrison. "Iowe you many thanks."
"Oh, that's all right," Mr. Pike responded. "If you're goin' to try tocatch fifteen, you'd better git a move. She's whistled for the stationjust above."
Garrison hastened away. He was presently whirling back to Dorothy.
His "shadow," with his bruised hand gloved, was just behind him in thecar.
