_CHAPTER VII_
_The Inquest_
At the suggestion of Oakes, we mingled with the crowd for a short timeand then returned to the town with some of the hotel employees, leavingthe others in their excitement to await the action of the authorities.
"This man Winthrop Mark seems to have been very well known?" Oakesinquired of the hotel porter by his side.
The latter, anxious to identify himself with the town and its people,and also to please the stranger beside him who had made himself soprominent during the last few moments, gave much information.
"Yes, Mr. Clark, the murdered man has lived hereabouts for a long time;his brother owns the Mark Mansion over yonder; the town has been veryproud of it, you know."
"Yes, a beautiful old place."
"It is, sir. But no place to live in; there has been something dangerousabout it, sir."
"Seems to me I heard something of it when I was last in Mona," saidOakes.
"Did you have any experience, sir?"
"Experience! What do you mean?"
"I do not know, sir, but _it_ always appears. Something that scarespeople."
"Hurts the town, doesn't it?"
"Yes, indeed, sir; and this murder will spoil everything here now."
"I cannot quite follow you."
"Oh, sir, you don't know how good Mr. Mark was: Always improving theroads; always giving the town money; forever clearing up jealousies,"said the porter.
Oakes looked at him: "Say, my man, how long have you been a porter? Youdon't speak like a man brought up in such work."
"I was not, sir. I used to be a merchant, years ago; burned out; noinsurance; broke; went to work as a porter; nothing else to do. The oldstory, Mr. Clark; I am not the first one!"
We knew Oakes was seeking some information, so we remained quiet.
"Sad enough," said he; "perhaps times will improve for you."
The porter, Reilly by name, smiled and looked at Oakes with thatexpression of hopeful despair we have all seen, we who rub the world inour continuous efforts.
"Who could have shot Mr. Mark?" asked our companion, "did he have manyenemies?"
"No, Mr. Clark. I know of none. But----" and the man paused.
"Well, what?" said the detective in an off-hand way.
"Well, it's peculiar," said Reilly, "very peculiar to me. Two or threeyears ago, sir, Smith, the leading man of the town, was shot at the verysame spot in the road."
"What!" I cried; but a look from Oakes silenced me. "Indeed! quite acoincidence," said he. "Who shot him?"
"Nobody knows. I was just going to work when it happened."
"Early in the day, then?"
"Just about six o'clock, sir--and he was shot right through the chest,"volunteered our informant. "Well, I hope they catch this fellow," saidOakes. "You have a good police chief here."
"Yes, sir, very. He came up here first for his health; but he was oncechief in some large city."
"Ah, then he will get the murderer surely. Mona is fortunate in havingsuch a man."
Reilly looked pleased at the compliment, and it seemed as though Oakeshad won another follower.
Before we reached the hotel, we saw that the town was now wide awake.There were groups of men talking excitedly before nearly every businessplace--the bank, the dry-goods stores, drug-stores and newspaperoffices. It was about their opening hour, and rumor had travelled fast.
On the main street, Oakes left us with a word of caution. "Be carefulwhat you say. There may be a connection between this affair and theMansion mystery, but--we know nothing of either. The inquest may tell ussomething. Meantime, you two find out what you can by mingling with thecrowd. Learn all about Reilly; and anything you can pick up of theSmith murder he mentioned. I am going to see the Chief of Police; and,if possible, telephone to my office in New York."
Moore and I walked around in the fast-increasing crowd, and talked withthose who were returning from the scene of the murder.
The people were settling down into a dull, sullen silence, as peoplewill, after a great tragedy. This was a blow to the inhabitants here.The death of Mr. Mark was the loss of a friend to many, and of a leadingcitizen to all. Those engaged in business in what had been untilrecently a most prosperous little town foresaw the probable after-effecton confidence and the town's future.
The demon of vengeance was rising in many hearts. The report of thecoroner's jury was awaited with anxiety. The murderer would probablyhave escaped by that time--but better so--if once his identity could bediscovered, than have another mysterious horror in the community.
The police headquarters, a trim little brick building facing the squareand the hotel, was the centre of real activity.
Oakes made his appearance alone at the top of the steps coming out fromthe corridor that led to the Chief's room. As he stood at the doorglancing calmly around at the crowd, I thought what a magnificent man hewas. He stood erect and composed, as though inviting scrutiny. His longovercoat was not carefully closed--its collar was turned partly up. Hehad put it on like the rest of us, after our return from the run, and hehad done it quickly. His left hand was hanging down in a naturalposition; his right was in his overcoat pocket. The Fedora hat wasslightly tilted back. He looked a half-careless, indifferent fellow, butthe keen eyes missed nothing; they rested on me, on Moore and then onthe crowd. He was the embodiment of searching coolness. The crowdrecognized him and knew that he had seen the Chief of Police. Theyreasoned as one man that something important had been done. The tallcity fellow had been first at the side of the victim; they had seenthat. What did he know? And then they thought of that run and theexhibition of physical perfection that his powers had shown; and like agentle ripple on the brook came a murmur of admiration. Oakes steppeddown and was the centre of much questioning. All the time the right handremained in the coat pocket. I knew that it held death at command; thatthe revolver lay well in his grasp; that Quintus Oakes was now on guard,and the field was one with which he was well acquainted.
Soon he entered the hotel, and we followed him to his room. "You must beat the inquest--both of you. Dr. Moore, you are well known as a surgeonand will view the body with the local doctors. They wish you to do so.They say you are known to them by reputation. You will be required as anexpert witness. I have made my identity known to the Chief of Police."
"Indeed," I said; "then everybody will know it."
"No, they won't," said Oakes. "The Chief knows me by name. I know allabout him; he is a good, shrewd man. I have explained our mission here,and have disclaimed any desire to have anything to do with this mystery,unless--unless it touches the other. The Chief, Hallen, wants myevidence, and he knows enough to see that we can all stand in together."
"He may help in the Mansion affair later," said Moore.
"Yes," said Oakes. "I thought I might need him. Anyway, this murder isfor the police at present. I succeeded in getting long-distancetelephone, and found that Martin did not come here at all. He returnedto the office after seeing Dr. Moore off on the train."
"Good!" we exclaimed. "And what did you learn from the dying man? Hespoke to you, we thought."
"I learned something that has great possibilities," said Oakes. "Waitfor the inquest. What have _you_ learned?"
I answered for us both: "Reilly is well known here and reliable. Wecould learn nothing of the Smith murder save that it had occurred aboutas this one, and was never solved. The old Chief of Police resigned onaccount of public opinion of his incompetency; the new Chief, Hallen,came in here a year or so ago."
"Well," said Oakes, "so far--so good; but it looks to me as though thereis some connection between these murders. I do not envy the localofficials a bit; the people won't stand much more mystery up here.Suspicion of one's neighbors is a terrible thing in a small community.By the way, when I give my evidence, watch me but little--watch theaudience more. The criminal might be there!"
"Yes," said Moore, turning to me; "they often seek the court under suchcircumstances, don't t
hey?"
"I believe it has been recorded," I rejoined. Then seeing Oakes moveaway, I asked where he was going.
"I am going to look around for a while."
"Better be cautious; you may be the next to get a bullet, for thecriminal probably knows that you saw Mark alive. He may be anybody intown," I said.
"Anybody! Nonsense. You may clear the women and children at least. Thatwound was made by a heavy-calibre weapon; it takes strength to handlesuch."
Then he walked away.
The coroner empanelled the jury that afternoon. It was composed ofmilkmen, porters and farmers, and some men of more substantialcondition; for instance, the leading banker and the secretary of theYoung Men's Christian Association. They were all alert to the importanceof their position, and anxious to appear well in this drama that wasopening in Mona.
The jury viewed the body in the anteroom, and the wound was examinedcarefully. They marched into the court-room next to the apartments ofthe Chief of Police, and were seated before the bench. The large roomwas filled to its utmost with the representative men of the place. To myeyes, the scene was novel indeed. My practice had been in the courts ofthe metropolis, and the methods here interested me. They were simple,straight-forward people. The intensity of their faces, the hush of thecrowd, was awesome. I obtained a seat facing most of the people, and Dr.Moore was by my side.
The room looked on a lawn which extended to the next street, andopposite to me were three windows, the centre one of which was open. Atthe open window was a young negro, handsome and well built. He leanedon the sill with folded arms, and, judging by the height of the windowfrom the ground, I knew he was standing on a box or a barrel. A coupleof other faces were visible outside the closed windows. The crowd withinwas uneasy, but quiet--a volcano in its period of inactivity.
Then the milkman who discovered the body related his story. He had comeup the hill from the station and saw the body near the top of the hill.He saw the wound from his seat on the wagon, for, realizing what hadhappened, he did not alight. Fear had seized him. He knew he was perhapswatched by the assassin, so he had lashed his horses and rushed for thetown and aid. The little boy who had ridden by his side was brave andcool in the court-room; the Chief of Police had his arm on his shoulderin a fatherly way. He corroborated the milkman's story, and said he wasscared even more than his uncle, the driver.
One or two others certified to the finding of the body and spoke of thestranger, Mr. Clark, who had reached the place first, and of the wildrun from the town.
Then came the coroner's physician, who certified to the nature of thebullet, a large one undoubtedly. Then he said in a courteous,professional way: "Gentlemen, we have by accident among us Dr. Moorefrom New York, who witnessed the finding of the body, and who has viewedthe injury. Dr. Moore is a well-known surgeon, and perhaps he will favorus with an opinion--only an opinion--of the nature of the weapon used."
The coroner bowed and motioned to Dr. Moore, by my side. The physicianhesitated a moment, then advanced before the crowd of strangers. He wasa surgical lecturer, but this was an unusual audience.
"Dr. Moore, you have seen many wounds from firearms, have you not?Please state where."
Dr. Moore answered in his pleasant voice: "I have seen quite a number inhospital service in the last ten years, and very many in Cuba during theSpanish War."
A murmur arose--the crowd hung on every word.
"State what your opinion is, please," said the coroner.
"To begin with," said Moore, "the bullet entered the breast; the pointof entrance is large, about the size of a 44-bullet. I know it enteredthere, because a part of the coat was carried into the wound. It cameout at the back under the right shoulder-blade and pierced that bone,tearing it partly away from its muscles. In piercing the bone it alsofractured it, and made a large hole of exit, as was to be expected."
"Explain, please."
"Under some circumstances a bullet losing its speed pushes the tissuesbefore it and makes a larger hole of exit than entrance, especially ifit shatters the bone."
"What do you think of the nature of the weapon used?"
"In my opinion it was certainly no modern pistol or rifle; they are ofsmaller calibre and the powder used gives greater velocity, and lesstearing is evidenced."
"How is that?"
"Well, a small bullet going at great speed makes a clean hole usually,at ordinary range. This was a large bullet, going only at moderatespeed."
"Could a rifle have done it?"
"Yes, if fired at a long distance, so that the speed was slackening."
"What seems the probable weapon to you?"
"A revolver, because a rifle of large calibre, to have produced such awound, must have been discharged at considerable distance, for thebullet was losing its velocity when it found the victim. Now, to haveseen the victim from afar was impossible, the banks on each side of theroad and the incline of the hill would prevent it. That, to my mind,excludes a rifle.
"The assassin could not have seen Mr. Mark much more than one hundredand fifty feet away, owing to the configuration of the ground. Had hebeen _much_ nearer than that distance, the bullet would have travelledwith greater speed than it did, and would probably have pierced theshoulder-bone without so much crushing and pushing effect.
"Thus we see that a rifle in this case could not have been used farenough away to cause such a wound. A heavy revolver discharged at gooddistance for such a weapon would have met the requirements, however; andI believe such a one was used. The assassin could not have been fartheroff than the configuration of the ground permitted--about one hundredand fifty feet--and judging from the wound, he was not very muchnearer."
The crowd shifted and a deep sigh of emotion arose.
"Now, Dr. Moore, you arrived in town this morning! Please tell us whatyou know about the events that transpired," asked the coroner.
"Well, I arrived at six o'clock A.M. and walked up the hill. As Ireached the top, I noticed a man coming up behind. A milkman came alongand offered me a ride to the hotel--there he is," and he pointed to thefellow. "As we rode along, we both heard a shot, and I remarked upon it.The man in the wagon with me said it probably was a poacher. I have nodoubt, sir, it was the murderer at work."
This was getting near the horror, and the court-room seemed to echo thedeep breathing of the listeners.
Then the milkman, who had picked the doctor up, gave his testimony. Hehad entered the highway at the Corners and had seen a man coming up thehill. He drove in toward Mona, and picked up Dr. Moore, as related.
He corroborated Moore in his statements, and ended by saying that hewent about his business after leaving Moore at the hotel, and knewnothing of the finding of the body by the other milkman and the boy,until about eight o'clock.
"I remember the shot; it was short and dull. We said it didn't seem likemuch of a gun."
"When did you hear the shot?"
"About 6.30, sir," was the answer.
"And, gentlemen of the jury," said the coroner, "Mr. Mark lived untilseven, when he was found."
"If that shot was the one, he lived a long time. I believe he might havedone so, however. The hemorrhage was not very severe. He may have lainunconscious for a while. As you know, the autopsy showed that the bulletentered in front and, striking a rib, followed that around and came outbehind. It followed a superficial deflected course, as bulletsfrequently do. Men sometimes live a long time with such wounds."
More evidence, of an unimportant nature, was given. The station-masterremembered the man getting off the train and following Moore. He knewhim well; he was Mr. Mark, and had lagged behind and spoken to him.
The body was undiscovered before, because most milk-wagons entered thetown at the Corners, and no one had alighted from the seven o'clocktrain to climb the hill.
Charles Clark was now called, and the spectators made room for Oakes, ashe walked down and faced the audience. Watching the crowd, I saw itsexcited expectancy. Here and there was a man, pale as death,
nearlyovercome by the strain of the evidence. Everyone in that room knew thatthe important part was at hand. Many expected the name of the assassin.A man behind me sighed and said: "Gosh! why don't you hurry?" I knewthat he was nearly ready to collapse.
Oakes, or, as Mona knew him, Clark, crossed his hands behind him andinclined his body a little. He glanced coldly around, then at the clock,and instinctively the audience followed the movement. I noticed that thetime was four, and that the ticking was very heavy and noisy. Then Iremembered Oakes's orders, and watched the crowd. The coroner wentthrough the usual formalities, and Oakes began his testimony.
He spoke in that fluent style of his: "I reached the man ahead of theothers; he was breathing. Realizing that his name was important, I askedhim for it. He was conscious; he opened his eyes and looked at me. 'Markis my name; all Mona is my friend,' he answered. At mention of thosewords I heard a sob and then another outbreak; the audience was going topieces."
Oakes resumed: "I then asked him, 'Who did this deed?' He seemed to belosing consciousness. I repeated the question. This time he answered, inan almost inaudible voice: 'The man--the man--with the great arms.'" AsOakes uttered this sentence, he did it in a strong whisper--heardclearly all over the court-room. He paused. Moore and I noticed thatone-half the men in sight mechanically put their hands to theirarms--curious is the effect of such scenes.
Others, seeing the actions of their comrades, glanced at them harshlyand suspiciously, but instantly began to smile.
Just then the fat grocer thought it was funny, and laughed outright in aparoxysm of hysteria. The crowd began to titter, and then a roar, short,sharp, of pent-up emotion--a laugh of suppressed excitement--pealedforth like a thunder-clap; then all again was intensity.
Oakes now continued: "He did not say more, so I again asked quickly,'Who did it? Speak, man! Speak!' Then he answered distinctly--it was alast effort."
The audience leaned forward in awed expectancy. The faces of some werehard and set, and the eyes of all were riveted on Oakes.
Moore whispered to me: "Watch the negro." I looked and saw him leaningforward over the window-sill, his face ashen gray; one arm held on tothe sill, the other hung limply into the room.
"Mr. Clark, what did Mr. Mark say to you then, just before he died?"asked the coroner.
"He said: 'It was the fellow--the man with the blue cross on his leftarm.'" As Oakes spoke, his voice became metallic and incisive, whilehis quick eyes suddenly swept the audience.
There was a shuffling of feet, a turning of bodies, and a man of weaknerves cried out: "The blue cross on the left arm!"
The negro made a lunge forward, swung both arms into the room, and criedout: "Oh, Gawd! Oh, Gawd!" then dropped on the other side of the wall.
The Chief of Police stood up and pointed to the window.
"Catch that coon," he cried.
The tumult which followed was a relief, but the crowd lost sight of thenegro. No one had ever seen him before, and he escaped--at least for thetime being.
The jury brought in a verdict "that Mr. Mark came to his death at thehands of a party or parties unknown."
As Dr. Moore and I discussed matters later, we could but agree that theidentity of Quintus Oakes had apparently been well hidden in that ofCharles Clark, the agent, and that our first day in Mona had been amemorable one.
Quintus Oakes: A Detective Story Page 7
