XV
THE ZABELS VISITED
Let us follow the party now winding up the hillside.
In a deeply wooded spot on a side road stood the little house to whichJohn and James Zabel had removed when their business on the docks hadterminated. There was no other dwelling of greater or lesser pretensionon the road, which may account for the fact that none of the persons nowapproaching it had been in that neighbourhood for years, though it wasby no means a long walk from the village in which they all led such busylives.
The heavy shadows cast by the woods through which the road meanderedwere not without their effect upon the spirits of the four men passingthrough them, so that long before they reached the opening in which theZabel cottage stood, silence had fallen upon the whole party. Dr. Talbotespecially looked as if he little relished this late visit to his oldfriends, and not till they caught a glimpse of the long sloping roof andheavy chimney of the Zabel cottage did he shake off the gloom incidentto the nature of his errand.
"Gentlemen," said he, coming to a sudden halt, "let us understand eachother. We are about to make a call on two of our oldest and mostrespectable townsfolk. If in the course of that call I choose to makemention of the twenty-dollar bill left with Loton, well and good, but ifnot, you are to take my reticence as proof of my own belief that theyhad nothing to do with it."
Two of the party bowed; Knapp, only, made no sign.
"There is no light in the window," observed Abel. "What if we find themgone to bed?"
"We will wake them," said the constable. "I cannot go back without beingmyself assured that no more money like that given to Loton remains inthe house."
"Very well," remarked Knapp, and going up to the door before him, hestruck a resounding knock sufficiently startling in that place ofsilence.
But loud as the summons was it brought no answer. Not only themoon-lighted door, but the little windows on each side of it remainedshut, and there was no evidence that the knock had been heard.
"Zabel! John Zabel!" shouted the constable, stepping around the side ofthe house. "Get up, my good friends, and let an old crony in. James!John! Late as it is, we have business with you. Open the door; don'tstop to dress."
But this appeal received no more recognition than the first, and afterrapping on the window against which he had flung the words, he came backand looked up and down the front of the house.
It had a solitary aspect and was much less comfortable-looking than hehad expected. Indeed, there were signs of poverty, or at least ofneglect, about the place that astonished him. Not only had the weedsbeen allowed to grow over the doorstep, but from the unpainted frontitself bits of boards had rotted away, leaving great gaps about thewindow-ledges and at the base of the sunken and well-nigh topplingchimney. The moon flooding the roof showed up all these imperfectionswith pitiless insistence, and the torn edges of the green paper shadesthat half concealed the rooms within were plainly to be seen, as well asthe dismantled knocker which hung by one nail to the old cracked door.The vision of Knapp with his ear laid against this door added to theforlorn and sinister aspect of the scene, and gave to the constable, whoremembered the brothers in their palmy days when they were the life andpride of the town, a by no means agreeable sensation, as he advancedtoward the detective and asked him what they should do now.
"Break down the door!" was the uncompromising reply. "Or, wait! Thewindows of country houses are seldom fastened; let me see if I cannotenter by some one of them."
"Better not," said the coroner, with considerable feeling. "Let usexhaust all other means first." And he took hold of the knob of the doorto shake it, when to his surprise it turned and the door opened. It hadnot been locked.
Rather taken aback by this, he hesitated. But Knapp showed less scruple.Without waiting for any man's permission, he glided in and steppedcautiously, but without any delay, into a room the door of which stoodwide open before him. The constable was about to follow when he sawKnapp come stumbling back.
"Devilish work," he muttered, and drew the others in to see.
Never will any of these men forget the sight that there met their eyes.
On the floor near the entrance lay one brother, in a streak ofmoonlight, which showed every feature of his worn and lifeless face, andat a table drawn up in the centre of the room sat the other, rigid indeath, with a book clutched in his hand.
Both, had been dead some time, and on the faces and in the aspects ofboth was visible a misery that added its own gloom to the pitiable andgruesome scene, and made the shining of the great white moon, whichfilled every corner of the bare room, seem a mockery well-nighunendurable to those who contemplated it. John, dead in his chair!James, dead on the floor!
Knapp, who of all present was least likely to feel the awesome nature ofthe tragedy, was naturally the first to speak.
"Both wear long beards," said he, "but the one lying on the floor wasdoubtless Loton's customer. Ah!" he cried, pointing at the table, as hecarefully crossed the floor. "Here is the bread, and--" Even he had hismoments of feeling. The appearance of that loaf had stunned him; onecorner of it had been gnawed off.
"A light! let us have a light!" cried Mr. Fenton, speaking for the firsttime since his entrance. "These moonbeams are horrible; see how theycling to the bodies as if they delighted in lighting up these wasted andshrunken forms."
"Could it have been hunger?" began Abel, tremblingly following Knapp'severy movement as he struck a match and lit a lantern which he hadbrought in his pocket.
"God help us all if it was!" said Fenton, in a secret remorse no one butDr. Talbot understood. "But who could have believed it of men who wereonce so prosperous? Are you sure that one of them has gnawed this bread?Could it not have been--"
"These are the marks of human teeth," observed Knapp, who was examiningthe loaf carefully. "I declare, it makes me very uncomfortable,notwithstanding it's in the line of regular experiences." And he laidthe bread down hurriedly.
Meantime, Mr. Fenton, who had been bending over another portion of thetable, turned and walked away to the window.
"I am glad they are dead," he muttered. "They have at least shared thefate of their victims. Take a look under that old handkerchief lyingbeside the newspaper, Knapp."
The detective did so. A three-edged dagger, with a curiously wroughthandle, met his eye. It had blood dried on its point, and was, as allcould see, the weapon with which Agatha Webb had been killed.
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