Читать книгу Under Three Flags - Bert Leston Taylor - Страница 13

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Both men smoke on in a brief silence that Ashley breaks with an inquiring “Well?”

“Much,” is Barker’s smiling response. “Now, my boy,” he adds briskly, as he extracts a bunch of writing paper from his grip and sharpens his pencil, “tell me everything you know concerning the dramatis personae in this drama. We will get our facts together, and then I’ll give you my theories—for I have more than one. Go ahead.”

When Ashley has exhausted his stock of information and has hazarded one or two ingenious theories, the detective leans back in his chair and for the space of five minutes says not a word. Finally he turns to Ashley.

“This Hathaway mystery,” he begins, “is either simplicity itself or it is shrouded in a veil that only the patient search and unceasing effort of months will lift. My first glance at the case led me to believe that the murder was the work of a professional, so swiftly had it been accomplished and so completely had the work of the operator been covered up. But the most earnest search has failed to discover the presence in town on Memorial Day of any person who could possibly be regarded as a suspicious character, except Ernest Stanley, of whom more anon.

“Then the deed must have been committed by some one in Raymond. Thus far we have evidence affecting four men—Derrick Ames, Cyrus Felton, Ralph Felton, and Ernest Stanley. If two of the four were implicated it could have been only the Feltons, father and son. I do not say that any of the four is the guilty man. But a chain of evidence must be forged about the slayer of Roger Hathaway, and in order that this chain shall be complete, minus not a single link, it becomes necessary for us to establish the innocence of these four men, if they are innocent, as well as the presumptive guilt of a fifth party, if a fifth party committed the crime.”

“In other words, we are hampered by a superabundance of clews.”

“Exactly. I will pardon your interruption, but no more of them, unless they are good ones. Now, your attention.

“Roger Hathaway was killed in his office in the bank on the evening of Memorial Day, some time between 7:45 and 8:30 o’clock. No definite minute or five minutes can be fixed. Two of our characters were, we know, and the other two may have been, at the bank between 7:45 and 8:30. To begin with Ames. Sam Brockway tells me that he saw Ames enter the bank after Hathaway had handed a note to the boy, Jimmie Howe. Brockway did not stay to see Ames come out; when the latter did emerge he was unseen. It is not unreasonable to assume that Ames killed Hathaway as the climax of a bitter quarrel over the latter’s daughter, and that, to facilitate his escape, he helped himself to the bank’s funds. But it is unreasonable to assume that subsequently he induced the daughter to elope with him. That is the weak link in that chain.”

“But suppose that the elopement was already under way; that everything had been arranged for, hour of departure, route and conveyance,” debates Ashley. “Would not Ames argue that solitary flight, and a failure to carry out the prearranged plans must weigh heavily against him? An elopement is an excellent excuse for leaving town hurriedly, you know.”

“Possible,” returns the detective. “Now, the letter which you say Louise Hathaway received from her sister, but the contents of which she refuses to reveal, must have contained some reference to Ames which Miss Hathaway has reasons for concealing. At any rate, there is good ground for suspecting that Ames knows something of the murder of Roger Hathaway, whether or no his own hand was stained with the cashier’s blood. Now,” says Barker, turning to the blotter and the mirror on the table, and propping up the reflector with the water pitcher, “look that over carefully, Ashley, and tell me what you find.”

Ashley draws his chair up to the table and examines critically the characters on the blotter as reflected in the mirror.

“All of the words which are distinguishable were not, when blotted, on the same sheet of paper,” he asserts. “At least two and perhaps three sheets of paper were used. The words, ‘your personal account overdrawn,’ must have been at the bottom of one sheet and those with the signature attached upon another, but whether top, middle, or bottom of the page is of no consequence.”

“Very good,” approves Barker. “That was the first conclusion I arrived at when I examined the blotter. Now, how about those words, ‘Come to the bank immediately’?”

“Their position is not so clear to me. Their nature would indicate that they began the letter, but if so I cannot see why they should blot and the words following them should not appear.”

“But if they were part of another letter—what then?”

“Ah,” remarks Ashley, thoughtfully.

“I am assuming, and I think reasonably, that the blotter was first used upon the letter or letters whose contents we are attempting to guess,” says Barker. “There are many faint marks around the legible words, but naturally only the words concluding each page would be distinguishable. Those above would be either dry or in process of drying. But what else do you deduce, Ashley?”

“Well, the writing does not display, in my opinion, undue haste or agitation. I am not an expert in handwriting, but I should say that this letter was written at a normal speed and by a man in a comparatively calm condition of mind. The signature is bold and firm, as are all the legible characters. I should also say that this letter was the one which Roger Hathaway sent to Cyrus Felton half an hour or so before he was found dead in his office.”

“You remember Felton’s testimony at the inquest?”

“Perfectly. He stated that the note he received contained the simple request: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’”

“Then you think he lied to the coroner?”

“It would seem so. Unless—”

“Unless the note he received at his house on the evening of Memorial Day did contain only that brief summons, which is contained in the five words at the top of the blotter.”

“Precisely,” agrees Ashley. “That brings us to the question, when was the other letter written? It must have been previous to the note referred to at the inquest, but how many hours or days before? Let me have your theory, Barker. My mind is already shaping a shadowy one.”

The detective chews his cigar reflectively. “Suppose that Roger Hathaway discovered, some time ago—within a few weeks, we will say—that the affairs of the bank were not in the condition that they should be?” he hazards. “An examination of the books showed not only that the president’s personal account was overdrawn, but that certain operations of the latter had jeopardized the soundness of the institution. The knowledge might have been expected or unexpected. In either case the cashier realized that something had to be done, and at once. So on the day before Memorial Day, or even earlier, he wrote a letter to the president and couched it in plain English. He instanced the overdrawal of the president’s personal account and a number of other unpleasant conditions, and urged upon that gentleman the necessity for an immediate adjustment of the critical affairs, closing with the admonition, ‘Fail not, Cyrus Felton, at the peril of your good name.’

“Having dispatched his letter to the president, the cashier waited anxiously for a reply. It came in the form of a call by Felton at the residence of Hathaway the evening before Memorial Day. The interview was a stormy one. At least we know it was not harmonious. The cashier again set forth the necessity for immediate action. Ways and means were discussed, but no way out of the tangle seemed clear. In desperation the cashier suggested some unpleasant but safe method of salvation. The president responded angrily, ‘I can’t and I won’t!’ and the cashier answered decisively, ‘Then there is only one alternative.’ Without waiting to discuss this alternative, the president left the house in a temper and the cashier sat up in his library for hours afterward, meditating on the crisis.

“Now, what was this ‘one alternative’ indicated by the cashier? Clearly publicity of the bank’s condition and its subsequent wreck. The next day was Memorial Day. The cashier took part in the solemn services and in the evening he went to the bank to perform some necessary work upon the books, the teller being ill. No word had come from the president, no intimation that he was prepared to follow out the course pointed out the night before, and avoid the disgrace which the wreck of the bank would entail. Again the desperation of the situation flashed upon the cashier. The president must act, and at once. So the cashier indited a brief but peremptory note to the president: ‘Come to the bank immediately.’ This he delivered to Jimmy Howe, whom he found on the bridge tossing pebbles into the stream.

“The president answered the summons. Within the cashier’s office the accusation, apparently so plainly indicated on this blotter, was repeated verbally. A sharp dispute followed. Hot words led to blows. The drawer of the cashier’s desk was open and his revolver lay in view. Can you supply the rest?”

“But the open vault and the missing money and securities?” contends Ashley.

“The vault may have been, probably was, already open. The missing funds—had been missing for some little time,” replies Barker, with a significant smile. Then he resumes:

“Felton testified that on the night of the tragedy he reached the bank about 8:20. As he left his house about 8:05 he must have got to the bank not far from 8:15. It is not more than ten minutes’ walk, even at an ordinary pace. He told Sheriff Wilson, when he found the latter at the hotel, that he discovered Hathaway ‘only a few moments ago.’ Yet the sheriff stated to me that he was positive it was 8:35 when he was informed of the affair. He looked at his watch when he was accompanying Felton to the bank. Again, Felton told the coroner that ‘it did not seem more than a minute that I spent in the bank,’ so that here we have a hiatus of fully a quarter of an hour. Now, where was Felton during that fifteen minutes if not in the company of Roger Hathaway? If Hathaway was dead when Felton reached the bank, why was not the sheriff informed earlier? You see there is an apparent discrepancy that might be explained on the theory that Hathaway was alive when Felton entered the bank, and that an interview of ten or fifteen minutes was ended by the death of the cashier.”