Читать книгу The Huddle - Carolyn Wells - Страница 5

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“Of course he’ll have to give the name,” Barton said, as Lawson disappeared.

“Yes, I know,” and Curtis nodded. “What I meant was not to say who was dead. You know the death of Robert G. Allenby is going to make a stir in more circles than one.”

“Of course. The reporters will swarm in as soon as the news is out.” Davis looked apprehensive as he spoke. “And,” he went on, “I think we’re overdoing our timidity act. Of course, we needn’t disturb the body, but I propose we look around in the bedroom, in search of some sort of information. The tragedy we’re up against is a big one, but to my mind the mystery is bigger. Why do we avoid questioning one another? Why not discuss it among ourselves? Surely we have every right to do so.”

Curtis looked alarmed.

“You fellows go back into that room, if you like, but don’t ask me to. I just simply can’t!”

“All right, Curt, you needn’t,” Barton said quietly. “No use your getting stirred up more than you need. But what about each of us telling plainly and truthfully just what happened when we each went in Allenby’s room?”

“Go ahead,” Davis said. “You went in first; what happened?”

“Why, nothing. As I told you, I heard at the Club that Tom Perry, an old friend of ours, had committed suicide. I knew Ally would be interested so I wanted to tell him before our confab began. He was shocked, of course. We didn’t say anything about the Fair business, definitely, except that he said he couldn’t find one of his papers, and I came along out, leaving him pawing through his files.”

“You went next, Charlie,” Davis reminded. “What was your experience? Did you make a proposition?”

“Yes, only a minor suggestion. Ally didn’t pay much attention. He was adding a codicil or postscript or something to his notes. He as good as told me to clear out, and he’d come along in a minute.”

“Well, Davis,” Barton asked, “speak your piece.”

“Small potatoes. I may as well own up, I went in to ask Ally if he would help me a bit with a picture exhibition I’m planning. But he was absorbed in his notes and just mumbled he’d rather let that matter wait till another time, so I came back. I must sell some of my pictures, or I’ll go to the dogs.”

“That’ll be nice for the dogs,” Barton smiled. “But look here, these statements of ours, and of course, they’re just what we knew they must be, show us positively that the man who jabbed Allenby must have arrived in that room soon after Davis came out, he must have put through his work swiftly and departed at once.”

“How?” Davis asked. “Is there a door to the hall from the bedroom?”

“Oh, yes,” Curtis said. “Of course there is. And there’s a bath and dressing-room—maybe the man was hiding in the bathroom—”

Lawson reappeared then, with the word that an Inspector would arrive immediately, also the Medical Examiner.

“Is Miss Allenby at home?” Curtis asked of the man.

“No, sir,” Lawson told him, “Miss Allenby is out, she has gone to a matinee. Do you wish to see her maid?”

“No,” Curtis decided, “we’ll leave everything until the authorities get here.”

And in a few moments they came, Inspector Brice and Medical Examiner Enders meeting in the elevator.

Lawson ushered them into the office, and Curtis addressed them.

He told them briefly who they were, and why they were there. He told them of the discovery of Robert Allenby’s dead body, and of their own ignorance as to the details of the murder, if murder it was.

“Any weapon visible?” asked the Inspector.

“I never thought of that,” Curtis replied, and looked at his two partners, inquiringly. They both stated they had seen none but that they had refrained from actual search.

“Queer proposition,” Brice said, as he started toward the closed door to the bedroom.

Curtis hung back, but the other four men entered the room.

Doctor Enders went directly to the couch and after a moment, said, “Stabbed through the heart. I see no sign of a weapon. You say you’ve seen none?”

“No,” Barton told him, as Curtis had remained in the office. “But we have not made definite search.”

“Why not?” asked Brice.

“For one reason,” Barton said, “because we were not quite sure just how far our privileges extended, and we thought best to get the police here as soon as we could. We waited some time for Mr. Allenby to rejoin us and, when he delayed so long, Mr. Curtis re-entered this room and found him dead, just as you see him.”

Then arrived Commander Lovell of the Homicide division and the story was told over again.

Lovell gathered the three men in the office, and began his questioning. But the more he learned, the more mystified he became.

“About the strangest death I’ve ever had any connection with,” he said, looking distracted.

“Strange enough,” Davis said, moodily, “but after all, it’s only a question of finding out who went into the bedroom after we all came out, and for reasons of his own killed Robert Allenby.”

“Have you any evidence of this intruder?” Brice looked round the group. “Any sight or sound that suggested his presence?”

“No,” Davis returned. “But a sight of him could not be expected, with the connecting door closed, and a sound—well, he’d scarcely be likely to make much noise.”

“What was the occasion for this meeting with Mr. Allenby, here in his home?”

There was a silence and then Barton said, “We hope, Commander Lovell, that you won’t insist on an answer to that question just now. The meeting was to discuss a really important enterprise which we four men were planning. Of course, Mr. Allenby’s death changes our whole outlook, makes an entire revision of our plans necessary, involves possibly the discontinuance of the venture. These matters cannot be settled until we can have a business meeting of those of us who are left. And you can readily see that whatever the outcome of our discussion, it would be a grave disaster to have the plan, which we have, so far, kept inviolably secret, given a premature publicity.”

“I see that, Mr. Barton, but I must also call to your attention the fact that the death of your most important colleague—the murder, as it unmistakably is—automatically sets aside all other considerations until the person or persons who are responsible for it can be found.”

“But,” Curtis interposed, “can you not look after that investigation and come to your conclusions without knowing the actual details of the plans we were making or the progress we had so far made? Can you not feel assured that the business was important, since Robert G. Allenby was at the helm, and may I not add, that we, his three partners, are not entirely unknown to the business world of Manhattan?”

“I am not altogether satisfied to leave it thus, but I will do so for the present. Tell me, then, some more about the commercial side of the affair. It was to be a money-making proposition?”

“We hoped so. It is said that Mr. Allenby had always a Midas touch, and any project he favored was sure of success. He was to provide the lion’s share of the initial funds put up, but we three were to do our part in certain ways wherein we are specially capable.”

“You must see, Mr. Lovell,” Davis said, “that a big proposition like ours cannot be tossed aside or given unwanted publicity without doing it great damage. I am sure we can tell you the whole story within a few days, and meanwhile you can proceed with your search for Mr. Allenby’s murderer.” Lovell looked at him, gravely.

“It may be,” he began, “that the police will not prove so certain of this hypothetical murderer, as you all seem to be. There must be, of course, thorough investigation. Have the servants been interviewed?”

Davis spoke a bit shortly.

“Do try to realize,” he said, “that nothing has been done. We three are not very familiar with this house and household, and as we concluded to do no investigating until you came, we naturally have not talked with the servants. Indeed, save for Lawson, who let you in, and who previously let us in, we have seen none of the servants.”

“Call Lawson back here,” said Inspector Brice, who was wandering about the room.

Barton picked up the house telephone and gave the call.

Lawson returned, still calm of face, but with nervously twitching fingers and quavering voice.

“How many are there in the house staff?” Brice asked him.

“This apartment, or the whole house, sir?”

“This apartment—Mr. Allenby’s home.”

“Four in the service, sir. James, the butler, and me and the cook, and a waitress—oh, yes, and a chambermaid—that makes five. Then, there’s Mr. Allenby’s man and Miss Rosella’s maid.”

“Where is Mr. Allenby’s man?”

“He’s out, sir. It isn’t his reg’lar day, but Mr. Allenby gave him the afternoon, sir.”

“When will he be back?”

“About five, sir. It’s quarter of five, now.”

“Did you tell the other servants of Mr. Allenby’s death?”

“Only the cook, sir. She’s my wife. Am I to tell the rest?”

“If you like. They will all be questioned shortly.”

“Questioned, sir!”

“Yes, it is customary in such cases. You’d better tell them, and warn them not to leave the house until given permission. Wait, tell me if you think an intruder could get into this apartment, and reach Mr. Allenby’s rooms without being seen entering?”

“Well, yes, sir, I think he might, if he knew about the back way.”

“There is a back way?”

“Yes, sir. You come up the fire escape, and there’s a little back hall, and if you can get into that without being seen, you can go right on into Mr. Allenby’s bathroom. Was that how he was killed, sir?”

“We don’t know. Say nothing about it to anyone. Come, show me the back hall.”

The two men left the room, and Lovell resumed his queries.

“Do you have reason to think, any of you,” he said, looking closely at the three, “that Mr. Allenby anticipated the attack of an enemy?”

“I knew nothing of it,” Davis said, and Barton echoed, “Nor I.”

“I have a feeling he feared something,” Curtis observed, speaking slowly. “He seemed apprehensive this afternoon, I thought.”

“Nonsense, Curtis,” and Davis shook his head. “You’re imagining. When you get one of these nervous turns of yours, you can imagine anything.”

“Never mind about imagination,” Lovell said, “what was Mr. Allenby’s disposition? Calm and placid or excitable?”

Curtis answered this. “While none of us was on intimate terms with Mr. Allenby, I think perhaps I knew him best of us three. Anyway, I’ve known him the longest. And I describe him as one of the most equable men I’ve ever known. Even-tempered, balanced judgment, widely informed, he was a skilled and experienced promoter and it was a pleasure to work with him or under his direction.”

“Well put,” Barton agreed. “You’ve ticked off Ally to a dot, Curtis.”

“I take it, then,” continued Lovell, “he was not a man likely to put an end to his own life?”

“Suicide?” exclaimed Davis; “not a bit of it! If Robert Allenby ever had any leanings in that direction, he wouldn’t do it until he had fought and conquered the troubles he had run up against.”

An animated voice was heard, an excited exclamation, and a girl came suddenly into the room.

“Where is my father?” she cried, staring at the men she saw. “What has happened?”

“Do you not know?” Lovell spoke gently.

“No, I just came in and Lawson said for me to come right up here.”

“Then it is a sad bit of news we have for you. You are Miss Allenby?”

“Yes. Tell me, please.”

She was a large girl, good-looking without being beautiful, and possessed of a thoroughbred air that commanded attention.

Her big gray eyes took in the group and she looked to Lovell for an answer.

“Your father is dead, Miss Allenby,” Lovell said, gently, feeling this was the sort of girl who would prefer the truth at once.

She sat down on a chair which Barton offered, and said, “Tell me everything.”

“We have, as yet, little to tell, but I think you would prefer to know all we know. These gentlemen were here in conference with Mr. Allenby, who went into his bedroom for some papers that were in his safe, and while there, was—was killed by some unknown hand.”

“May I see him?”

“Will you not wait a few moments for that?”

As the girl seemed to make no objection to this, Lovell introduced the other three men by name, and then she spoke.

“I am Rosella Allenby, the only child of my father. We live here alone, and have done so for years. My mother died when I was a schoolgirl. I am quite capable of meeting this situation, and I prefer not to refer to my grief. I should like to be advised as to my duties, and I wish to be consulted in reference to such arrangements as have to be made.”

“Hard-boiled,” Barton thought to himself.

“Up against it, but determined not to give way,” was Curtis’ mental comment. While Davis covertly gazed at the girl, wishing he might sketch her.

Lovell set himself to his conventional catechism.

“Was your father subject to despondent moods, Miss Allenby?” he said.

“By no means. He was of a fine temper and quite ready to meet any emergency. He was brave and fearless and a stickler for justice. Are you perhaps implying that he—that he took his own life?”

“That possibility must be considered, Miss Allenby.”

“It need not be, for I can tell you he would never do that. I have not known my father all my life to be mistaken in his character. But—why do you think of that? How was my father killed? Why may I not see him?”

“Because the Medical Examiner is still with him. He will be here directly. Would you not like to have someone with you? Some woman—is there no one in the house?”

“I’ll call my maid,” and Rosella took up the house telephone. “She was my nurse.”

And the kindly, motherly looking woman who responded sat down by her charge with an air both respectful and affectionate.

Doctor Enders returned just then, and made his report to Inspector Brice, who had also reappeared.

“There is a very slight possibility,” he began, “that the death blow might have been given by the victim himself. But the likelihood is so remote that it can scarcely be taken into consideration. And, too, the weapon is missing. That contradicts the idea of suicide, unless someone has found and removed it.”

“What, presumably, was the weapon?” Brice inquired.

“A sharp blade of some sort. Dagger or knife. But shall we not exclude Miss Allenby from our recital?”

“No,” said Rosella, firmly. “I want to know all the details of my father’s death, as I expect to take my part in the investigation of the crime.”

“Very well, then,” and Enders proceeded. “There is little to be gathered from the scene of the crime, or at least I see no clue of any sort. A detective may learn more. That’s up to Lovell.”

“And to me,” said Rosella, decidedly. “I shall probably have more to do with this investigation than you policemen expect. I hope this will in no way offend you.”

“I am quite sure,” Brice said, courteously, “that we can object to no measures taken by the daughter of Robert Allenby.”

“Tell us further details,” Lovell asked of the Examiner.

“The stab wound was straight to the heart,” Enders said. “I should say the blade was not a long one, maybe four inches or less.”

‘‘Driven, then, by someone with a knowledge of anatomy,” and Lovell wagged his head with an air of knowledge.”

“Maybe,” said Enders, “though I’ve known most ignorant men to pull it off.”

“Can’t I see father?” Rosella asked again.

“Come with me,” Enders told her. “I’ll let you see him, and then we must—must send him away.”

“Yes, I know,” said the girl.

They went into the bedroom, and the doctor allowed her a look at the calm, white face of Robert Allenby.

“Tell me,” he said, after she had turned, dry-eyed, but tensely quivering, “do you not know those men out there? You don’t seem to.”

“Dad’s friends, you mean?”

“Yes, his three partners in some enterprise they have under consideration.”

“I don’t know them well, personally, but I’ve heard father talk so much about them I feel acquainted.”

“Your father liked them all? Trusted them?”

“Oh, yes. Father never went into business deals unless he had absolute confidence in his colleagues.”

“I see. Then you think they cannot be considered as suspects?”

“Oh, no. The three of them are all wrapped up in the project they are working on.”

“You know all about the project?”

“Yes, indeed. But I think I may not talk of it until I see my father’s lawyer, or consult with some of those men themselves.”

“You are your father’s heiress?”

“To a large extent, yes. I suppose I shall be questioned about all these things?”

“Probably, yes. But you are right in consulting your lawyer as soon as you can. Shall you remain here—or perhaps go to stay with some friends?”

“You’re taking father away?”

“Yes, very soon now. It is a peculiar case, as there is no one to consult, save yourself.”

“Thank you for your interest, Inspector, but I am accustomed to judging for myself. I shall stay here, yes, and perhaps get someone to stay with me. But first, I have to think matters out for myself. It’s a big emergency for a girl to meet. But I know I can count on the advice and assistance of those three men out there. Any friends or associates of my father would, I am sure, help or advise me in business matters.”

“I am glad you feel that way. Now you must realize, Miss Allenby, that there will be a lot of unpleasant interviews, a lot of painful questions and probings and much that will seem to you impertinent and even rude. But that has to be met with in a case of this sort. Have you no relatives? Uncles, cousins—or anyone who could act for you?”

“No,” she replied, with a look that showed both sadness and caution. “You see, while I have some relatives, I know too much about their hopes and their greed—this sounds terrible, but you must know what I mean.”

“I do, and you are right to recognize the situation. May I advise you to put yourself and your affairs in the hands of a trustworthy firm—but doubtless all that is attended to in your father’s will.”

“Yes, I feel sure that it is. But I am not so anxious about my inheritance as about this tragedy that has come to me. My first work shall be the discovery and punishment of the man who killed my father. My next endeavor, to carry on and bring to final success this venture that he was so interested in. But first, the murderer must be found—and punished.”

Doctor Enders looked at the girl in mixed admiration and doubt. But after all the detective work was outside his jurisdiction, and he could merely resolve that he would keep a sort of watch over her and help her if ever he could find a way to do so.

The two returned to the office, and found Brice still questioning the three partners.

A stenographer had arrived, also the camera men and finger-print experts.

Curtis was the most urbane of the partners, and willingly gave answers to questions. His colleagues smiled a little as they noticed how affably he replied, yet gave little or no real information. None of the three wished to conceal facts or reserve details, but they felt it their right to confer alone and plan for their immediate future, before revealing the secrets which belonged primarily to Robert Allenby.

They were allowed to go to their homes, and they agreed to hold themselves in readiness for future interviews when called by the authorities.

Hecker, the butler, returned from his afternoon out; and Linus, Allenby’s valet, came back also.

With the other servants, they were interviewed by the officers, who gave them their orders. None of them must leave the house that night, and tomorrow they would be advised of further plans.

Matilda, naturally, was put in charge of Rosella. But the charge was the other way, and, as always, the girl took charge of the woman. Rosella was kind to her old nurse, often asked her advice, sometimes followed it, but was never really chummy or affectionate. She gave orders and they were obeyed. She was always just and always considerate, but their relations were not those of companionship.

Rosella was self-sufficient, monarch of all she surveyed. That was her nature.