CHAPTER XXI
THE STEWARD
I was taken by surprise when Mason knocked on the door to tell us thathe had prepared some luncheon for us. We had talked for two hours andhad virtually arrived--nowhere! The thing was beginning to get on mynerves and I said as much to McKelvie as we seated ourselves at thetable.
"Yes," he returned. "It's getting on mine, too. I feel like--well, aperson tied to a tree, who can go so far and no farther. But I'm goingto break away."
"You mean you are going to try to locate the criminal since we can findno clues to help Ruth?" I asked.
"No, not directly, at present. I'm going to try to locate substantialevidence against him, for your clever criminal is not so easily caught.The trouble lies right here. Though I know the murderer is clever I haveno idea as to his identity, because I do not absolutely know the truemotive for the crime. Or, rather, I should say, no proof, forunfortunately there are any number of persons who might have been in thehouse at that time and who had sufficient motive for killing Darwin."
"Can't some of them produce alibis?"
"Alibis! I spent all day yesterday chasing alibis. Let's go over them.First, there's Mr. Trenton----"
"Heavens! You don't suspect him?" I gasped.
"Why not? Don't you suppose he realized as you did that he was primarilyto blame for Mrs. Darwin's marriage? And didn't he, while living inthis house, have an opportunity to witness and resent the treatmentaccorded to his daughter? And more than resent his own humiliation atthe hands of Philip Darwin, a humiliation of which even young Darwin wascognizant, if he spoke the truth at the inquest?"
"You're right. I hadn't connected him with the affair at all. I supposebecause he was away," I replied.
He smiled. "I think we can safely knock him off our list, for though hehad motive he had not the opportunity. I motored to Tarrytown yesterdayand had an interview with Mrs. Bailey. On the night of the seventh, Mr.Trenton was ill, too ill to leave his bed, and precisely at midnightshe, herself, and her doctor were in attendance upon him."
"I'm glad of that," I said, drawing a long breath. "It's bad enough asit is without dragging Mr. Trenton into it, too."
"Though I made certain of his alibi because I am leaving no stonesunturned in this case, still I never for one moment believed him guilty.It would be a monstrous father, indeed, who would let his daughterremain in jail if a word from him could clear her, particularly if heloved her and had bitterly repented of his former treatment of her."
"That's one off the list. Who else could have done it?" I prompted, ashe remained absorbed in thought.
"Cunningham is clever, and though he may have had opportunity, he lacksmotive. I saw the telephone girl in the apartment house where he has asuite of rooms. She says that he left town about the first of Octoberand did not return until about ten o'clock the morning of the eighth.Of course he might have got in the night before, in which case he spentthe night in the street or with a friend, for he is not registered atany of the hotels, although he could have registered under an assumedname, both of which presumptions are absurd, since he could have easilyreturned home and none the wiser. The girl said he looked as he usuallydid when he returned from out of town, but she had no idea where hewent. It seems he has many out-of-town clients whom he visitsoccasionally, and it would certainly take quite a while to locate themand get the desired information, with the chances ten to one that hewent somewhere else altogether, and had nothing to do with the murderafter all. The only thing I have against him is that he is clever, andfor that matter so I should judge was Richard Trenton."
"You think Dick might have done it?"
"I'm overlooking no one. I saw Jones and got from him all the dataconcerning Trenton's actions on that night. Also I telegraphed to theChicago police to try to locate anyone who may have known him there andwe should be hearing from that end in a day or two. There is one factthat stands out clearly, and can't be explained away. He left the hotelbefore eleven and did not return until one. Also there is no trace ofwhere he went during that time since, though he taxied to the hotel, hewas clever enough to take the Subway or the surface car to hisdestination. Then we have the letter he wrote his father, whichcertainly points to his intention to see Philip Darwin. Whether he didor not, we don't know, but it's quite probable that he did come here,and that the two men had a conference of some sort. Again I'm inclinedto believe that he is innocent for the same reason that exonerated thefather in my eyes. Yet there is his suicide to account for, and thestill stranger fact that he left no word of any kind to explain hisact."
He paused, then continued with a shake of the head, "There's not muchuse bothering with him at present, for he's beyond helping us in ourpredicament. There are others who may prove more useful."
"What about Lee?" I inquired, remembering the stick-pin and where it hadbeen found.
"Lee Darwin is the most likely suspect that I have," he returned, thenquietly busied himself with his dessert, for Mason had entered and washovering around. "By the way," he added, as we left the dining-room, "Ihave an appointment with the steward of the Yale Club on this verymatter. I went there yesterday but Carpe was away and I left word that Iwould call at one-thirty to see him. Supposing you drive me over."
"After this visit I'll be able to decide whether our young friend hadthe chance to commit murder," he continued when we were in the carheaded for the Yale Club. "He had plenty of motive."
"Chance, too, McKelvie. Didn't you say yourself that he was there thatnight when you first showed me his stick-pin?"
"I said he was there and I still say it, but that means nothing at all.We have got to prove that he was there at the psychological moment."
I nodded. "But, even if he had been, I can't see where you find amotive. He quarreled with his uncle, I know, but there was nothing inthat to cause him to shoot Darwin."
"Wasn't there?" answered McKelvie. "Surely you don't believe that hereally quarreled with his uncle about Mrs. Darwin? It's absurd on theface of it, that he should suddenly object to treatment that he hadaccepted with utter indifference for five months or so. No, no, I haveanother theory altogether about that quarrel."
Our arrival at the Club put an end to our discussion. Carpe, thesteward, whom I had interviewed the night I first sought McKelvie, cameforward as we entered. He was a big, dependable fellow, this steward,and had been in the employ of the Club for years. Moreover, he could betrusted to give correct information about the doings of the variousmembers of the Club, all of whom he knew well.
"Good afternoon," he said pleasantly. "If you will come into the officeI shall be glad to accommodate you."
We followed him into a small room at the side of the hall and he invitedus to be seated, as he dropped heavily into a chair at his desk, butMcKelvie remained standing, and as he put his questions he paced backand forth with his hands clasped behind his back.
"I desire to ask you some questions about Mr. Lee Darwin, Mr. Carpe," hebegan. "You have heard nothing from him since he left?"
"No, sir, not a word," replied Carpe, slowly.
"Go back to October seventh, Mr. Carpe. Lee Darwin engaged rooms forthat night, did he not?" continued McKelvie.
"Yes. He called me personally about noon and said he wanted a suite ofrooms for an indefinite time. He came in some time during the afternoonbut went out again at five o'clock."
"You are sure of the time?"
"Yes. There was to be a banquet of some kind to which he had beeninvited. It was just striking five as he came into my office here andtold me he could not attend, asking me to make his excuses for him. Hesaid he would not be back until late. It made an impression on me at thetime because he was not in evening clothes and I had always known Mr.Lee Darwin for a very fastidious young man."
"Do you know what time he got back?" McKelvie inquired after a pause.
"He didn't come back that night," answered Carpe.
McKelvie and I exchanged glances. "You could swear to that?" askedMcKelvie eagerly.
/> "I could. I sleep on the first floor at the back of the house. Aboutfive o'clock in the morning I heard someone knocking on my window and Igot up to see who wanted me at such an hour. We don't keep open house atthis Club. In the dim light I saw that the man was Mr. Lee Darwin, so Imotioned him to the back and opened the door for him myself. It wasquite a shock to me to see him, I can tell you. He was pale andwild-eyed and his clothes were rumpled and dusty. He stumbled in and Ihelped him to his room. He told me to keep quiet about him and naturallyI promised. I thought he had been out on a spree of some kind. He actedas if he might have been drinking," explained Carpe ponderously.
"What did he do after you promised silence?" McKelvie took a turn aroundthe room as he put the question.
"He went to bed, and at luncheon time I awakened him. He dressedhurriedly and rushed out without eating and did not return until three.There was a telegram waiting for him. He read it and then tore it up andhis hands were trembling as he did so. Then he remarked that he wasleaving for the South on business and asked me to leave his roomsundisturbed. He left in ten minutes and that is the last I have seen ofhim," replied Carpe.
"When he came back the morning of the eighth, were you really positivethat he had been drinking, or did he give you another impression aswell?" continued McKelvie.
"Well, to be candid, at the time he seemed to me to be scared, as if hehad seen something that had terrified him plumb out of his wits. It wasafterwards in thinking it over that I decided that he had been out on alark," responded Carpe, after a moment's consideration.
"I should like to examine his rooms," said McKelvie abruptly.
"Certainly." Carpe rose and led the way up the stairs, along a hall andinto a suite consisting of a dressing-room, bedroom, and bath.
The rooms were nicely furnished but were not unusual in any way and gaveno indication of having been recently used. Everything was in immaculateorder.
"Any of his belongings still around?" queried McKelvie.
"Yes, he left some things in the chiffonier."
McKelvie strode to the article of furniture in question and examined itscontents with great care, as if hunting for some definite object. Thenwith a shrug he announced that he was through. I thought he had beendisappointed in his search, but one look into his sparkling eyes told mea different tale. He had been successful, but what had he expected tofind?
"Thank you, Mr. Carpe. I'm much obliged to you. Keep my visit a secret,particularly as your information may not be of value to me and might, ifgossiped about, merely create an unpleasant situation for the youngman," said McKelvie as we returned to the lower floor.
"Just as you say. Good afternoon, Mr. McKelvie," and the door closedbehind us.
As we descended the steps I said curiously, "What did you find,McKelvie?"
For answer he pulled from his pocket a small yellow satin sachet bagwith the initials L. D. embroidered on it in blue. He placed it in myhand and with the remark, "Take a good whiff. It's a heavenly scent."
I held the dainty bag to my nostrils and inhaled deeply. It waswonderfully, delicately fragrant. I had a distinct recollection ofhaving been recently made conscious that there was in this world such asubtle, elusive perfume, but for the moment I could not place it. Like amelody that haunts by its familiarity even when its name eludes themind, did this perfume waft across my senses the knowledge that I hadbreathed in its fragrance before and on two distinct occasions. Thenmemory awoke and I saw myself drawing back from a blood-stainedhandkerchief which had been suddenly thrust beneath my nose atHeadquarters, and recalled wondering where I had come across thatperfume before. Ah, I had it. It was Dick who first introduced me toit. He also had a tiny sachet of yellow satin embroidered in blue andwhen I noticed it with some astonishment among his things he laughed inan embarrassed way and said a girl he knew had made it for him. When Iasked him what it was he named it for me with a shame-faced look.
The subtle perfume that now assailed my nostrils and delighted my senseswas none other than the fragrance that scented Dick's belongings, thatclung to the Persian silk cover in the secret room, and that had leftits trace on that square of cambric that Philip Darwin had been holding,the fragrance of Rose Jacqueminot! And Rose Jacqueminot meant a womanand the only woman I could think of was--Cora Manning.
"What do you make of this, McKelvie?" I asked, returning the sachet.
He shrugged. "May be important and may not. I was more interested inhearing that he had been out all night."
"Which means of course that he had the opportunity," I interpreted.
"Yes, he had the opportunity, but he may not have used it. His stick-pinis no proof that he was there at midnight. There are all sorts ofpossibilities in a case like this one. However, he did have amplemotive, for besides the quarrel there is the will. I examined specimensof Philip Darwin's handwriting. He does not make his capitals with aflourish. He makes his R's straight. So he was disinheriting his nephewand not his wife. Also the criminal knew that fact, or why his attemptto destroy the scraps by burning, which would account, you see, for hisstill being in the study when Mrs. Darwin entered."
"Somehow I can't believe Lee did it--unless it was on impulse," I said,recalling the young man's noble countenance. "Besides, McKelvie, surelyhe isn't so depraved as to implicate Ruth!"
"'Can there any good thing come out of Nazareth?'" he quoted. "He hasthe Darwin blood in his veins."
"So has Dick for that matter," I thought to myself.
"I don't mean to imply by that that he necessarily committed themurder," continued McKelvie. "I merely state that he had plenty ofmotive and chance. But so did several others, as we know. And even if heis the murderer we have no proof of that fact; nor does there seem to beat present any chance of questioning him. I have a man on his trail, butso far Wilkins has met with no success. He's evidently disguised, sinceno one recognizes his photograph, which, added to his use of RoseJacqueminot sachet, looks very bad indeed."
"Why?" I put in.
"Ask me that again later and I may be able to give you a more definiteanswer," he retorted. "To return to the subject. It may take months tofind Lee and we haven't months to waste on this case."
"What do you propose to do then?" I asked despairingly.
"I'm going to let you drive me over to Forty-second Street to see ClaudeOrton," he responded, entering my car.
The Mystery of the Hidden Room Page 21
