The Mystery of the Hidden Room

by Marion Harvey

  CHAPTER XIII

  THE SUICIDE

  I had anticipated trouble when I gave Mr. Trenton the Inspector'smessage, but shock seemed to have rendered his sensibilities numb forthe time being and he made no demur about receiving the emissary fromHeadquarters.

  It was just two-thirty, the hour set for Philip Darwin's funeral, whenthe Inspector called me and while I awaited the arrival of DetectiveJones my thoughts reverted to the funeral. I pictured to myself thesolitary coffin being lowered into its grave unmourned and unattended byany save the faithful Mason, for I do not count the idle and the curiouswho merely come to gape and stare and be amused.

  He had been rich and popular, with a host of friends, yet I was willingto wager that not one had taken the trouble to escort the body to itsfinal resting-place, and though I had never had any use for the manwhile living, still my heart was strangely stirred by the spectacle ofdesolation which I had evoked. Death is after all dread enough withoutthe added knowledge that no single human being will shed a tear at ourpassage from this earth. Even his own flesh and blood had turned fromhim, and for a minute I was sorry I had not attended. If I have oneregret in all this terrible business it is that one omission toaccompany the dead on its journey to the grave.

  "Mr. Davies, how do you do, sir," said Jones, entering and breaking inabruptly on my thought, for I had not heard his ring. "And thisgentleman is Mr. Trenton, I take it?"

  "Yes, Mr. Jones. I have told him the sad news. You--you wish him toidentify the body?" I asked, returning to earth with a decided jolt,mental if not physical.

  "Unfortunately," answered Jones, with a commiserating look at Mr.Trenton, who sat staring vacantly into space, "the body has not yet beenrecovered. I really don't need it, but thought I might as well have anidentification of his belongings."

  He placed the package he had brought with him upon the table and openedit, exposing to view a gray suit of good material, a rather shabby cap,a watch, and a pocket notebook.

  "These articles," he said, speaking rather loudly to attract Mr.Trenton's attention, "were found in a lodging-house on Water Street.Yesterday about noon, a dark young man, not any too well-dressed, andlooking dishevelled and unkempt, applied for lodgings, and was taken inby the landlady, Mrs. Blake, herself. He spent the afternoon and earlyevening wandering about among the wharves and spoke to several loungersto whom he made no secret of where he was staying. This morning, beforeit was light, this strange lodger arose and went out. Mrs. Blake saw himgo, but thought he was going to work. Fifteen minutes later someonebanged on her door to tell her that her lodger had thrown himself intothe river and had drowned. She was frightened and called the police. Onthe wharf was found the cap he had worn and in his room those otherarticles in a suitcase."

  The detective paused in his narrative to pick up the watch. "Theclothes are new and give no clue except that they evidently belonged toa gentleman. This watch is more helpful. Do you recognize it, Mr.Trenton?"

  Mr. Trenton, still somewhat dazed by the rapid sequence of the other'sstory, received the watch with tender reverence, looked at it, nodded,and passed it to me. How well I remembered that gold time-piece ofbiscuit thinness, with its plain R. T. engraved upon the back, which Mr.Trenton had given Dick on his twenty-first birthday! And in furtherproof, if such were needed, the inside of the case held a round kodakpicture of Ruth and Dick, taken on the same day!

  No, there could be no mistake as to the identity of Mrs. Blake's lodger!

  "The watch is really superfluous evidence," continued Jones. "In thatnotebook we found your name, Mr. Trenton, written along with his on thesheet reserved for identification."

  He opened the book and showed us the page which had a place for name,address, parentage, age, height, etc. Dick had filled in only his ownname and his father's.

  "You identify the handwriting?" asked Jones.

  "Yes, it's my son's," returned Mr. Trenton in that same monotonous tonein which he had first spoken of Dick's death.

  "Knowing that these articles belonged to Mr. Richard Trenton, andknowing also that he was Mrs. Darwin's brother, we had these thingsbrought to Headquarters for investigation, because we thought theremight be some connection between this suicide and the murder of PhilipDarwin."

  "I don't believe that Dick had anything to do with the murder," I saidslowly. "Surely you are not of the opinion that he killed Darwin?"

  "Well, hardly, since he wasn't in the study when the crime wascommitted. What I meant was that he might have been the instigator; andshe, the tool, as it were."

  I stiffened. "What do you mean?" I asked coldly.

  "This." Jones spoke sharply. "I have been delving into Richard Trenton'spast history. One of the things I learned from a former servant was thefact that six months ago Richard Trenton came home hurriedly one nightin company with Philip Darwin and that after a consultation with Mr.Trenton, the boy was packed out West. The next night, according to thesame servant, Philip Darwin came to the house and was closeted with Mr.Trenton and his daughter for several hours. When Darwin finally left,Mr. Trenton looked ten years older and Miss Trenton was in tears. Twoweeks later, to the servant's astonishment, she married not you, butPhilip Darwin."

  He looked at me shrewdly and I nodded in confirmation of his story."Having satisfied myself that there was decided connection between theflight of the brother and the marriage of the sister, I proceeded totrace Richard Trenton's movements on the night of the murder. He came toNew York on the seventh of October and arrived at Grand Central at 10.10p. m. From there he took a taxi to the Corinth Hotel. He registered,went to his room, and in a few minutes came down again and went out onfoot. He returned to the hotel about one o'clock. According to the nightclerk he looked haggard and weary. The next morning he paid his billand again left on foot. To-day, the tenth, he commits suicide. Mrs.Darwin declares she has not seen her brother since he left for Chicago,but admits corresponding with him and refuses to say about what. Now,the question is, What was he doing between the time he left the hoteland one o'clock on the night of the murder? Where did he go between themorning of the eighth and the afternoon of the ninth? Did he instigatethe murder and then in remorse commit suicide?"

  "No, I don't believe it," I said stoutly. "You have learned so much thatI think the best course which I can follow is complete frankness.However, there is no need to rake dead ashes, so I will merely say thatDick was forced to leave New York and that Philip Darwin had the boy inhis power because he knew the reason for Dick's flight. And baselyDarwin used his knowledge to force Mrs. Darwin to marry him to save herbrother from exposure."

  "I see, and of course it strengthens my point. Driven to desperationyoung Trenton may have returned with intentions to kill Darwin," put inJones.

  "Yes," I interjected eagerly, "and very probably he went so far as theDarwin home that night. Then he may have thought better of it andtramped about as one will when fighting a mental battle. In the morninghe left with intentions of returning to Chicago. Then he read of themurder in the papers and decided to lie low and see what happened. Whenhe learned that his sister was arrested, he probably considered himselfthe primal cause of all the trouble and in a fit of despondency drownedhimself."

  I was quite proud of the theory I had evolved and doubtless it was theright one. Jones weighed it in his mind and then he said, "You're right,Mr. Davies, that's probably just what did take place."

  "Besides, if he had instigated the murder, since he was putting himselfbeyond the power of the law, he would have left behind a writtenconfession to that effect," I added.

  "Yes, that's so. Well, I guess we can say he had nothing to do with itafter all. Probably thought he was morally responsible. 'In pacerequiescat.'"

  "Amen to that," I answered so surprised to hear him quote Latin that fora space I could find nothing to say.

  "There is no hope of finding the body?" I asked when I had recovered mymental balance.

  "I'm afraid not. It has probably been carried out to sea."

  "You
are certain that he drowned himself," I persisted, for I recalledthat Dick could swim.

  "Yes, he was seen and recognized by the men to whom he had spoken theprevious evening. They saw him throw himself into the river. Before theycould reach him he had gone down beyond recall."

  "I should like to interview Mrs. Blake and the others," I said, not withany hope of discovering a flaw in the evidence, but because I could notendure to witness the poor father's silent grief.

  "Certainly, Mr. Davies. I have my car outside. I will take you theremyself," answered Jones affably.

  As the detective began to wrap Dick's belongings, Mr. Trenton, who I amconfident had heard no word of our conversation, suddenly realized thatthe conference was over and leaning forward took the watch from thetable.

  "May I keep it?" he begged.

  "Yes, we have sufficient evidence in case we should need it," answeredthe detective.

  "I'll be with you in a moment," I said, for I wished to give Jenkinsdirections to keep an eye on Ruth's father. When I returned Jones hadhis package under his arm and though he said good-by, Mr. Trenton didnot respond.

  "Poor old chap," he whispered. "It must have been an awful blow to him."

  "Worse than anyone can imagine," I returned, thinking of the confessionhe had made. So we went out, leaving him there alone with the thoughtsof his dead.

  We drove in silence to Water Street and pulled up before a shabby oldhouse. Decidedly Mrs. Blake's was not the type of home I should havepicked out to live in, but when one has no intention of using one'slodging, the more obscure the better, I imagine. And it certainly wasobscure, and dingy and ill-smelling.

  I was shown the room in which Dick had slept and where he had left hisclothes, and it struck me that if he hired that room to remain unknown,he had been very negligent in leaving his belongings around. Then Idecided he chose that locality because it was near the river and theriver was the most convenient end he could think of. Poor Dick!

  I talked with the men who had witnessed the suicide, I was even shownthe place where the event occurred, and the point where the bodysubmerged! It was all very gruesome and alas, all too true! The onlything that puzzled me was why the lad had done it.

  It was one thing to convince Jones, but quite another to satisfy myselfthat my reasoning was correct. Dick was not despondent by nature andthough he might hold himself responsible for Ruth's marriage, surely hewould have the sense to see that committing suicide would only add toher sorrow without in the least aiding to free her. I gave it up unlesshe really killed Darwin and feared to face the consequences, but thatwould make him out a despicable creature indeed, and I resolutely closedmy mind to such a suggestion.

  When I reached home Mr. Trenton put into words the thought I had refusedto harbor.

  "Carlton," he said, with the calm of desperation. "I have been thinkingthings over and I believe you are right. We will go to Ruth and tell herthat it is useless for her to shield Dick any longer."