She was brought in with her head up. She went straight to Dr. Brill, who took both her hands in his. They were oblivious to everybody else in the room.
"Oh, Clare! ... Oh, Clare...!" he murmured brokenly.
"Hush, San," she whispered. "Everything will be all right."
He schooled his feelings. "Answer me one question," he said simply. "Have you used that kettle for any purpose this morning?"
"No."
"Look at me, Clare."
She lifted her clear eyes to his, and his glance plumbed the depths of her soul. A great breath of relief escaped him. "Thank God!" he cried, and lifted her hands to his lips. Such a natural and beautiful gesture.
"Now, Mr. Prosecutor," he said, turning around, "I'm ready to answer your question. Somebody has, as we chemists say, cooked clarium powder in that kettle."
Mr. Dockra had watched the little scene with a sneer. "Thank you, Dr. Brill," he said sarcastically. "That about completes my case. I believe you have been an involuntary accessory, but the degree of your responsibility will have to be established by a jury. I shall have to order both you and Mrs. Marlin taken into custody."
Dr. Brill looked at him as an angry mastiff might look at a terrier; his arm went around Mrs. Marlin instinctively. She drooped pitifully within it.
"Oh, my children!" she murmured.
Mr. Dockra had gone on to my mistress. Scaling the dizzy heights of gratified vanity, he murmured with affected gallantry: "Madame Storey, I cannot tell you what a privilege it has been to have you present at this inquiry. Stanfield is honoured that one whose time is so valuable should have given..."
"Oh, I can give a couple of hours more to it," drawled Mme Storey. "Let's get to the bottom of it while we're about it."
He dropped her hand as if it had been red hot. "My case is complete," he said, staring.
"Oh, absolutely," said Mme Storey dryly; "except in one particular."
"What is that?"
"Mrs. Marlin could not possibly have killed Mrs. Brager."
If you could have seen the beautiful hope and joy break in the faces of those lovers. And how they hung, waiting for her next words.
"I should be glad to have you explain yourself," said Mr. Dockra stiffly.
"It has been established that Mrs. Marlin left the house at quarter before nine," said Mme Storey, "and returned at five minutes past ten. Allowing her only fifteen minutes to make her preparations, she could not have committed the deed before ten-twenty. At eleven five, when I touched the body, it was cold."
The young prosecutor was brought down from his dizzy height. Before his men, too. He rubbed his lip to hide his bitter chagrin. Mme Storey's simple demonstration was unanswerable. As for me, I could have cheered. Ah! my wonderful mistress, she has never yet failed the cause of the angels.
Finally Mr. Dockra said sulkily: "Perhaps you will tell us who it was then."
"That I propose to find out before anybody leaves this room," said Mme Storey significantly.
IX
After the scene I have just described Mme Storey took charge of the proceedings. Mr. Dockra never ventured to oppose her. One could not help but feel a little sorry for the deflated young prosecutor. He was not a bad fellow at heart; but he had been carrying too much pressure. Imagine the small-town attorney thinking he could show Mme Storey a thing or two! She softened the blow as much as she could by making believe to consult him at every point, etc. Everybody remained in the room, and my mistress turned from one to another as questions occurred to her. It was much simpler.
"Mrs. Marlin," she said, "when you went out, was it your custom to lock your door?"
"No, Madame, it never occurred to me to do so. In fact, I had no key to the lock."
"Thank you." My mistress picked up the fateful kettle and tapped it reflectively with her finger nail. "Dr. Brill," she said, handing it over, "look at this again, please. It is a cheap kettle, you see, the metal is very thin. If this kettle, not having any water in it, were suspended over a flame, how long would it be before the metal fused?"
"It would depend upon the flame, Madame."
"I am referring to the flame of the alcohol lamp that goes with it."
Dr. Brill lighted the little lamp and put it out again. "Between six and eight minutes, Madame. The bottom of the kettle is badly discoloured and warped. Another minute and it would have burned out."
"Thank you. How long would you have to cook the clarium powder before it began to give off its gas?"
"No time at all. As soon as the heat penetrated it the gas would be released."
"I see. When the gas is released, how long a time must pass before it becomes innocuous?"
"Fifteen minutes, Madame."
Mme Storey turned to Mr. Dockra. "An elementary sum in arithmetic," she remarked. "If Mrs. Marlin carried the kettle into that room and lighted it, unless she went back in eight minutes to put out the flame, the bottom of the kettle would burn out. Yet it has not burned out, you see. On the other hand, if she went back inside of fifteen minutes, the fumes would kill her too. It won't work out."
The young man's face became longer and longer, seeing his case crumble to the ground. "According to that, nobody could have done it, then," he said sullenly.
"But somebody did do it," said Mme Storey, "for Mrs. Brager lies dead in there."
"How did they get the gas in there, then?" said Mr. Dockra. "Mrs. Brager didn't come out of the room, because the birds are dead in there with her."
"Through the hot-air flue from the furnace," said Mme Storey softly.
A little sound of astonishment went around the circle of listeners. The prosecutor gaped at my mistress. We all did.
She turned to Mme La France without pausing. "Will you please give an account of your movements this morning?"
"Certainly, Madame." The fat woman had by now succeeded in concealing the rage that gnawed her vitals. During one of her absences from the room she had fixed her hair and repaired her make-up. She faced Mme Storey with a hard smile. "After breakfast I sat in the dining room reading the paper," she began.
"Waiting for the mail?" put in Mme Storey pleasantly.
"We all were. When it came we went out into the hall to see what there was. I seen the little package addressed to Mrs. Marlin——"
"You have already testified as to that. Was there anything for you?"
"No, Madame. Afterwards I went upstairs and put on my things, and left the house. I went down to Ye Gilded Lily Shoppe—that's a beauty parlour in the town—where I had an appointment for a head shampoo."
"At what hour was your appointment?"
"Ten o'clock."
"That leaves a whole hour to be accounted for."
"Well, I didn't hurry none. I took my time about getting my things on. I suppose it would be about nine twenty when I left the house."
"But it only takes ten minutes to go downtown on the car. Less than that by taxi."
"I walked, Madame. I am reducing."
"Oh, I see. Did you leave the house before or after the gentlemen?"
"I can't say. I didn't see them when I went out."
"Then nobody saw you leave the house?"
"Nobody that I know about."
"Did you meet anybody you knew on the way downtown?"
"No, Madame."
"I suppose you are known at the beauty parlour?"
"Oh, yes, Madame, they all know me there."
"What time did you leave there?"
"Eleven. And come right home by car. You was already here then."
"You were wearing a cape when I saw you. Is that your custom?"
"No, Madame. Only when I'm walking. It gives me more freedom, like."
"That is all, thank you," said Mme Storey. "Now, Mr. Oneto."
The young man faced her with a look at once nervous and sulky. His eyes quailed; he passed his handkerchief over his face. This looked hopeful.
"You, too, were waiting in the dining room after breakfast?" suggested my mistress wi
th an ironical air.
"Yes."
"Reading the paper?"
"No, she had it."
"What were you doing?"
"Nothing."
"Waiting for the mail?"
"Oh, I don't look for much in the mail. I'm no hand to write letters."
"But you went out in the hall when it came?"
"Yes."
"Get anything?"
"No."
"Then what did you do?"
"My hat and coat were downstairs. I took them and went out. Mr. Chew saw me go."
"Where did you go?"
The young man scowled even more blackly, and his eyes darted from side to side like something trapped. "Went to see a friend," he muttered.
"Who?"
He hesitated. "I won't say," he muttered.
"Hm!" said Mme Storey. "You understand what that implies."
"Aah, what difference does it make?" he burst out. "Chew saw me go out right after the mail came; and you all saw me come in again after eleven o'clock. It couldn't have been me."
"How do we know that you didn't come back in between?" suggested Mme Storey quietly.
"I didn't have a latchkey."
"It would have been a simple matter to leave the door on the latch."
"Well, I didn't," he muttered.
"There is a door opening from the side yard directly onto the cellar stairs," Mme Storey went on. "It has not been used in many years; not since the house was last painted, in fact. But this morning it was opened, and somebody entered that way, after having put down a board over the soft earth outside to avoid leaving a footprint."
Oneto stared at her. "Well, it wasn't me," he said sullenly, "and you can't hang it on me."
"You will be under suspicion until you can account for your movements."
"Aah, I went to see a lady friend," he said with a hang-dog air. "It wouldn't do any good for me to give her name, because she'd deny I was there if you asked her."
"Why should she deny it?"
"Because her husband don't know me."
A smile travelled around the circle at this answer. But Oneto had no intention of being funny; he was sweating. To my disappointment, Mme Storey let him go for the moment.
"Mr. Chew," she said.
There was no hesitancy about this witness. He was too eager to testify, too full of virtuous protestations. "After the mail came I went back into the dining room to look at the paper," he said. "Nobody gets a chance at it when Mme La France is around. I didn't see Oneto leave the house. He may have done so, but he can't prove it by me, because I wasn't taking any notice of him. I didn't read the paper long—only the headlines. The dining room door was closed to keep in the heat, and I didn't see Mme La France go out. Maybe she did. My hat and coat were up in my room, and after a few minutes I got them and went out."
"Where did you go?"
"Well, you'll think it's funny, Madame Storey, but I got on a car and went down to a sort of little club that I know of called the Acme Social Club, and played pool with some men there. I assure you it's not my custom. But this morning I was to talk over some business matters with Mrs. Brager, and when the housekeeper told us at breakfast that she was indisposed it left me at a loose end, so to speak, and I——"
"Quite so," said Mme Storey, cutting him short. "With whom did you play pool?"
"Well, there was quite a crowd: a fellow they call Fred, and a fellow they call Spike, and Dan—you see I don't know them outside the club, and I'm not sure about their last names; Dan's last name is Potter, I think."
"But they could be found at the club?"
"Certainly, Madame Storey."
"At what time did you enter the club?"
"I couldn't tell you exactly. It would be about twenty-five past nine."
"Mr. Chew, can you produce a witness who will swear that he saw you enter the club before half-past nine?"
A panicky look came into the greedy, darting black eyes. "How do I know if I can?" he gobbled. "There was a crowd there; fellows always coming and going. I don't know if anybody noticed me particularly coming in or could tell the time to a minute." He darted off on a new tack. "Nobody who ever saw me and Mrs. Brager together would ever suspect me of meaning harm to her!" he cried with tears in his voice. "Why, we were like brother and sister together, like mother and son; a hundred times she has termed me her son."
Those of us who knew the old lady and her pretensions to youthfulness smiled at this.
"Why, when a fellow come into the club and said that a rumour was going around town that Mrs. Brager was dead, I almost dropped where I stood. Ask any of them how I took it! My friend! My benefactor! I rushed out of the place and jumped in a taxi and came right here. I am still so overcome by this shocking event, I scarcely know what I'm saying!"
My mistress was bored by these protestations. "I noticed, when you came in, that you were wearing your overcoat across your shoulders," she said. "Why was that?"
"It is just a way I have got into," he said.
"Madame La France," said my mistress, "have you seen Mr. Chew wearing his overcoat in that manner?"
"No," was the blunt answer.
"That's a lie!" cried Mr. Chew excitedly. "That woman has it in for me. She——"
"Oh, please!" said Mme Storey, holding up her hand. "No recriminations. That is all, thank you, Mr. Chew."
Things began to happen then.
X
A battered figure appeared in the doorway. It was Crider, the best man we have; one of his eyes was puffed up and beginning to blacken; his cheek was cut; his collar was torn open. I gasped at the sight; but my imperturbable mistress never batted an eye.
"Did you get your man?" she asked coolly.
"Yes, Madame," he said grimly.
"Good!"
The room had become so crowded we could scarcely breathe. Mme Storey suggested that it be partly cleared; and the flock of lawyers was requested to wait in the hall. Mr. Dockra also sent his men outside, except the one who was taking notes. The door had to be left open for air; and during the subsequent proceedings there was a whole bouquet of heads there, peering and listening. Even for those who remained in the room there were not seats enough, though some sat on the bed and some on the couch. I doubt if any of those who stood ever became conscious of weariness, for minute by minute the tension increased, as one might slowly screw the strings of an instrument higher and higher. It became almost unbearable.
Crider was looking at Mme Storey for further instructions. "Speak out," she said; "the Public Prosecutor is waiting to hear what you have to say."
"From the cook downstairs," Crider began, "I got a tip that the man you sent me after would be going to St. Agnes' school after leaving here. He visits the school four times a day. I followed by the route he would naturally take. According to your instructions, I searched all places that would likely suggest themselves as hiding places for a small object he might want to dispose of. I found that my route carried me across the Stanfield River, and I realized, of course, that that would be the place, if any. It is a small tidal stream, and at the time I crossed the bridge was just a narrow creek flowing out between mud flats. I did not feel that I ought to take the time myself, so I hired some boys to drag the water under the bridge, and I went on.
"From having to stop so many times, I found the man gone when I got to the school. But they had his address, and I went there. It was a lodging house in a poor quarter. I found him at home. He had just got there. He refused to come back with me. In fact, I had considerable trouble with him. He was a heavier man than me. But I managed to hold him until the people in the house, who were scared by the racket, sent out for a policeman. I told the officer who I was and took the liberty of adding that the Public Prosecutor wanted the man at Mrs. Brager's house, and the officer took him in charge for me. I searched his room but did not find any of the things you told me to look for. I followed behind to make sure he did not throw anything away in the street.
"When we
approached the bridge, I saw that the boys had found something, so I let the officer and his man walk on ahead. The boys gave me this, which they had found in the water. The man does not know that we have it. He is down in the kitchen under guard."
Crider handed Mme Storey a crumpled piece of tin. It had the look of a small box which had been squeezed flat so that it would sink when thrown into the water. Mme Storey, pulling the sides apart, examined it all over, while everybody in the room waited in a breathless silence.
"Dr. Brill," she said at last, "do you smoke Demiopolis cigarettes?"
"Why, yes, Madame," he said, astonished.
"Do you buy them in boxes of one hundred?"
"Yes, Madame."
"Did you use one of the empty boxes to mail the clarium powder to Mrs. Marlin?"
"Yes, Madame," he said, with rising excitement.
"This will be it, then, I fancy," she drawled. "You had better take charge of it, Mr. Dockra." She handed it over. "You will find the name of the maker stamped in the tin."
A little sound of wonder travelled around the room.
Amid an electrical silence, the mysterious man in the case was led into the room and told to sit down in the chair at the foot of the bed. I shivered with repulsion at the sight of the murderer, as I then supposed him to be. He looked like a murderer, which murderers seldom do: a Hercules of a man, now somewhat gone to fat, with a ridged, bony head and completely brutalized features. The sort of man whose only retort is a guffaw of coarse laughter. His little swimming pig eyes held no expression whatever. The coarse and dirty clothes betrayed his occupation. He wore no overcoat.
"What is your name?" asked Mme Storey mildly.
"Henry Hafner," he growled.
Instantly Dr. Brill cried out: "That is the voice I heard over the telephone!"
It was on my tongue's tip to echo him. I too recognized that growling voice! But Mme Storey has taught me to restrain my impulses at such moments. I could see that she was annoyed by Dr. Brill's cry. She looked at Mr. Dockra meaningly. He said:
"There must be no interruptions, or we will have to clear the room."
In order to lull his suspicions, my mistress was adopting a painstakingly friendly attitude toward the brute. "Married, single, or widowed?" she asked.
MRS3 The Velvet Hand Page 28
