CHAPTER XXXIII
THE SECOND BULLET
When we were downstairs again and the doctor had gone, Jones turned tome. McKelvie was smoking his pipe and pacing the room, his brows knit inthought, and Jones did not like to disturb him.
"I say, Mr. Davies, can't you give a fellow a few more details?" hebegged. "I seem to have got the dope all wrong in this case. Who is thismysterious man?"
I glanced at McKelvie, but he was paying no attention to ourconversation. I decided that there was no harm in telling Jones all thatwe knew, since McKelvie himself had already disclosed the more vitalpoints.
So I gave Jones a rapid account of our search for the criminal, how wehad discovered the secret entrance, where the trail of the sachet bagshad led us, how we had interviewed Orton, Mrs. Harmon, and Cunningham,and how the finding of Dick's ring led to the discovery that he wasstill alive.
"But as regards the mysterious man in the curio shop," I ended, "I can'ttell you who he is since I don't know, but my impression is that he wasdisguised and that he is not old at all, for one moment he was feebleand bent, and the next, when he turned off the light, tall and strong."
Jones slapped his hand on his knee. "By George, you're right. What didhe look like, anyway?"
"When I first saw him he was bent and his head was thrust forward, hishair and beard were silver-white, his eyes protected by blue glasses," Ianswered.
"Disguised all right," said Jones with conviction. "It's a remarkablething now, Mr. Davies, but when a man runs to disguise he always choosesthe appearance which is his very opposite, the idea being, I suppose, tolook as unlike his former self as possible. He stooped and was old,therefore he really is young and tall. He wore whiskers and glasses,therefore he is smooth-shaven and has good eyesight. That's your man."
"And if you add the fact that he is dark, you have a pretty gooddescription of the murderer," put in McKelvie suddenly.
"Good heavens!" I began, but McKelvie raised his hand.
"Keep your suspicions to yourself," he said, and returned to hismeditation.
"Seems to me you've made pretty good progress so far," Jones continued,"but what you need is the police on his trail. We'd soon have him wherehe belongs."
"Well, I don't know that we have made so much progress after all," Iwent on, as McKelvie ignored Jones' insinuation. "We have reduced thenumber of suspects by finding Lee, but we really are no further than wewere three days ago. We progress so slowly," I added, impatiently,"because we discover only unsubstantiated facts. We thought Lee might beable to help us but he cannot swear to having seen his uncle die, andwithout that proof Ruth must stay in jail."
"I'm sorry," returned Jones. "The only thing to do is to catch thecriminal or learn his identity."
"How?" I demanded. Did Jones think he could win out where McKelvie hadbeen unsuccessful? Then I recalled McKelvie's words before he took thecase, when he had handed me his list of questions. "Find the answers tothose questions and you will have the name of the man who committed thecrime." We ought to be able to answer almost all of them by now.
I pulled out my wallet and opened it, drawing forth the sheets that Ihad placed there less than a week ago (it seemed more like years) andspread them out in front of Jones, explaining their purpose and how Icame by them. He read them through, glanced at McKelvie's back (he wasseeking inspiration from the falling night), and then he grinned.
"Say," he whispered loudly, "we ought to be able to dope it out, you andI. I'll read you the questions and you give me the answers." He took outhis fountain pen, prepared to fill in my replies, and I humored him.
"Question one. Why was the pistol fired at midnight?" Jones asked.
"To implicate Ruth," I returned.
"Did the murderer also light the lamp?" Jones' pen scratched away as hespoke.
"Yes. He lighted it from the safe," I said, explaining how we hadascertained this fact.
"How did he enter and leave the room?"
"He entered by the window and he left by the secret entrance," Ireplied, remembering McKelvie's assertion.
"Wrong." McKelvie swung toward us for a moment. "He entered by thedoor."
"But I thought you said--" I began.
"I've changed my mind," he retorted, and turned his back on us again.
Jones' eyebrows went up a trifle, and then he asked, "What was themotive for the murder?"
"I don't know," I said frankly. "It seems to me that answer depends onwho murdered him. Find the murderer and you have the motive, not learnthe motive and you have your man, as in most cases," I added.
"We'll leave number four blank, then. Why did the doctors disagree, andwhich was in the right? I recall that fact now. They had quite a tiffover it and the young doctor was worsted." Jones laughed at therecollection.
My answer astonished him. "I'd say they disagreed because the coroner'sphysician was a pompous old ass," I returned vindictively. I could notforget that in very truth Ruth's accusal had been the result of thisverdict. "Dr. Haskins was in the right, since Darwin was shot ateleven-forty."
"Why did Philip Darwin put that ring on his finger and then take it offagain?"
"Cunningham explained that Darwin did it in a moment of sentimentality.It seemed an idiotic thing to do, after all, and I don't believe he wasaddicted to sentiment," I said.
"Well, no, he might have had it in his hand and slipped it onunthinkingly, and then had trouble taking it off," replied Jones,reflectively.
I shook my head. "No, I am inclined to believe that he hurt his fingerwith Cora's ring. Lee said his uncle was wearing it on his little fingerand that he removed it hastily and handed it to him. It was probablytight for him, and so he bruised the finger," I said.
"Where's the diamond then?" asked Jones.
"It may have fallen out and the murderer may have found it," Ireturned. "Or better yet, Orton may have taken it. You know Lee flungthe ring at his uncle."
"That's plausible, and I never liked the secretary's face, anyway. Whosewas the blood-stained handkerchief?" continued Jones.
"Cora Manning's, because of the perfume which all her male friends seemto have adopted also," I remarked.
"Where did the second bullet go?"
"By the way, McKelvie, where did it go?" I inquired.
But he pretended not to hear me, so I said to Jones with a laugh,"Another blank. I have no idea where it went."
"Did McKelvie search the room?"
"With a magnifying glass. It's not there."
"That's queer. It's bound to be somewhere. I'll have to have a lookmyself. Why is there so much evidence against Mrs. Darwin?"
I permitted myself a smile at Jones' evident estimate of McKelvie'sabilities as far as searching a room was concerned, then I replied tohis question. "I suppose the criminal believed in being thorough whilehe was about it."
"Who and what is Cora Manning?"
"She is, or was, Lee's fiancee. As to what she is, I'll tell you betterwhen I see her. According to McKelvie she's a beauty," and I smiled."Also, if you can believe what he says, the criminal is in love withthis girl, so she is not the one who fired the shot."
"So McKelvie says, but if the criminal loves her, how do we know shewasn't his tool. Even the boy upstairs thought she had killed hisuncle," remarked Jones.
"Don't be an idiot, Jones," said McKelvie's voice. "She wasn't likely toshoot a man who was already dying when she entered the room. She gotthere at eleven-forty-five, or later."
"Oh, yes. I forgot that fact. But the boy's watch may have been fast atthat," replied Jones, unabashed. "She pointed a pistol at him, you know."
"Yes, and I presume she kept the man she loves in duress all this time?But have it your own way," returned McKelvie, dryly. Then I heard himadd to himself, "Where can she be? If I could only lay my finger on herhiding-place, I'd have him in my toils."
"What has become of Darwin's securities?" Jones returned to the paperbefore him.
"Cunningham says Darwin lost his fortune in Wall Street,"
I answered.
"What is Lee Darwin's connection with the affair?"
"Like Ruth he is a victim of circumstances and the criminal'smachinations," I said.
"Why did Richard Trenton come to New York and then commit suicide?"Jones went on.
"He came to New York at Darwin's request to see him. This we know to bea fact," and I told Jones the gist of Gilmore's story. "Also we knowthat he did not commit suicide although he tried to give the world thatimpression."
"That looks very bad. What's Cunningham's relation to the murdered man?"
"Just his friend since Cunningham is not a lawyer."
"That looks bad, too," said Jones. "He acted as counsel at the inquestillegally then."
"He says not. That he did not see Mrs. Darwin and gave her no advice.You can prosecute him when the case is over. We have no time for thatnow," I added.
"Which one of those having sufficient motive for killing Darwin answersto the description: Clever, unprincipled, absolutely cold-blooded?"
"There's an immense amount of latitude in that question. There might beany number of men of that type, since we do not know how many may havehad sufficient motive for killing him. I expect that we haven't met allthe men who have grudges against him, not by a long shot. And now, Mr.Jones, having doped it out, as you expressed it, would you mind tellingme who committed that murder?" I asked quizzically.
Jones grinned. "I'll be hanged if I know," he replied. "But then we havenot answered all the questions, you know. There's the motive and thatsecond bullet. Oh, I say, McKelvie, what about letting me get busy onthe trail of the revolver that made that second shot? There's a goodsubstantial clue for you, though I know your preference for deductions."
McKelvie turned away from the window laughing at Jones' irony, then saidquietly, "I won't trouble you to locate it as it might inconvenience yousadly. You see, I know where it is."
"You do?" Jones looked incredulous. "You know where it is and youhaven't produced it?"
"How could I when you have had it under lock and key at Headquartersright from the start," returned McKelvie, his eyes twinkling.
"I? Oh, no, you're wrong there. I have only Darwin's pistol," repliedJones.
"That's the one I refer to."
"But, man, there's only one shot fired from that, the shot that killedDarwin," expostulated Jones.
"Use your imagination, Jones. Did you never hear of a man's cleaning hispistol and recharging it?" inquired McKelvie sarcastically.
"By Jove," said Jones, then added quickly, "What about the secondbullet, then? I don't happen to possess that, too, do I?"
"No, for there was no second bullet."
"No second bullet!" I exclaimed, remembering the stress he had laid onthat fact.
"No," he returned coolly, "there was no second bullet because--he tookthe trouble to remove it before he fired the cartridge."
The Mystery of the Hidden Room Page 33
