Читать книгу The Paternoster Ruby - Charles Edmonds Walk - Страница 9

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Stodger at once left us together, having, I surmised, his own method of getting into the curtained alcove of which he had spoken. In order that he should have ample time to reach it, I held Burke with a question or two in the hall.

"Mr. Burke," said I, "who besides yourself and Mr. Page was in the house last night?"

He replied promptly, but with a deliberate precision, as if he were making a weighty confidential communication, and wanted to be exceedingly careful to convey an exact interpretation of his thoughts.

I might now add that this cautious, reflective manner characterized all his speech, and in time it grew extremely aggravating.

"A young man named Maillot," he said; "Royal Maillot."

"And who is this Royal Maillot?" I next asked.

Was Burke returning my intent look? Or did he have an eye for some fancied movement behind him, or off there toward the closed library door? For the life of me, I could not have told with assurance.

"I can't tell you much from my own knowledge," he presently returned; and now I was pretty positive that he was meeting my regard. "Mr. Maillot is still here, however; he can speak for himself."

"I know that"—curtly; "but I prefer to be informed beforehand—even if it's only by hearsay. Who is Mr. Maillot?"

Again the furtive, wandering look behind the blank of the clean-shaven, ageless features.

"I 've gathered the idea that he 's a young lawyer, and that some business affair brought him here to confer with Mr. Page. He arrived only last night. The whole circumstance was very unusual."

"What do you mean by that?"

Some moments elapsed before he replied.

"Why," presently, "Mr. Page was not in the habit of seeing people here, or—as far as that's concerned—of considering any business matters whatever after he returned home in the evening; this was his invariable rule, excepting—" He paused.

"Excepting what?" I urged.

"Well, occasionally—very rarely—he would have me here. Last night was one of those occasions; he expected to be absent from the city, and there were special instructions that he wanted to give me, concerning certain matters that had to be looked after to-day.

"But, without an exception that I can recall, everybody else who had any business with him was required to go to the Drovers' National, or to his office in the same building.

"Even our relations—our acquaintance—practically ended with each day's business, not to be renewed until the next day; and I suppose I approach nearer than any of his other employees to being what you might call a confidential clerk, or secretary."

I rose briskly to my feet.

"Let's go some place where it's more comfortable," suggested I, throwing open the library door; "in here will do."

He entered unhesitatingly, for it is an easy matter to influence people to your will in such trifling manoeuvres; and as I followed, I glanced about the spacious apartment.

Its walls were wainscoted with oak, save for a narrow painted frieze, and while very few books were in evidence, the place would have been cheerful enough had there been a fire in the wide, handsome brick fireplace, or had there existed any indication at all that the room was ever used by human beings. Before the cold and empty hearth stood a table, where, very likely, Mr. Page had been in the habit of working on those rare occasions of which his secretary had spoken. On the right of this table was the curtained alcove.

Now Burke's conduct during the next second or so was destined, later on, to give me an idea concerning that gentleman, which indirectly aided me in clearing up a puzzling feature of the case. It was this.

As I indicated the chair where I wanted him to sit—one near enough to the alcove for Stodger not only to hear what Burke might say, but also to have the additional advantage of watching him without much likelihood of being observed in turn—I could have sworn that Burke hesitated and bent a doubtful, inquiring look toward the alcove; yet I am not positive that he ceased for a moment his blank, unblinking scrutiny of me. At any rate, he was no sooner seated than he bounded up again.

"We can have a little more light here," said he, starting toward the alcove, behind whose curtains Stodger was at that moment, I daresay, hastily planning a means of precipitate retreat. I was already seated myself, and I stayed his progress only in the nick of time.

"Burke!" I called sharply.

He wheeled about, a trifle disconcerted, I imagined.

"Please sit down," I went on authoritatively. "You are not precisely at liberty to go just where you please; for the present I 'm responsible for your movements."

He shrugged his shoulders and returned to his chair, remarking in an unemotional way:

"I forgot that I was under arrest."

I did n't trouble to define his position. At best it was at that instant an anomalous one; so far as I knew there were no grounds upon which to hold him at all; and while I would have hesitated to say that he was actually in custody, at the same time it is also true that I would not have permitted him to walk out of the house and away, had he desired to do so.

"Now, Mr. Burke," I went on, "tell me just what you know about this matter. Don't slur details; take your time."

"I know very little, Mr. Swift."

"Let's have it, nevertheless."

"About one o'clock last night I had just completed sorting some papers in my room. They had been in a file-case so long that they were very dusty; so when I was through I went to the bath-room—one door from mine—to wash my hands, and while I was so engaged I was startled by a crash, as of some one falling heavily outside.

"I picked up my candle, and looked into the hall. At first I saw nothing, and everything was perfectly quiet; but in a moment I noticed that an étagère, which had always stood at the head of the stairs, was tipped forward against the banisters, and at the same time I heard Mr. Maillot moving about in his room. I was much perplexed to account for such a disturbance at that hour of the night, and for a time I stood motionless, waiting to see what would occur next. I admit that I was even somewhat frightened; but as nothing else happened, I crossed over to Mr. Maillot's door—directly opposite my own—and rapped.

"He threw it open at once. He was holding a hand to his right eye, and glared at me with the uncovered eye. He evidently had slipped hastily into his clothes; his candle was lighted, and I noticed that his hands and face were wet, as if he too had been washing."

"It strikes me that there was an unusual amount of hand-washing," I here observed, "considering the hour of night. Had the household retired?"

"Why—yes, sir—we were supposed to have done so. But Mr. Maillot at once explained why his hands were wet. As he threw open the door, which he did in an angry manner, he asked me what the devil was the matter. I replied that I did n't know. He then stated that he thought the roof had caved in; that the tumult had awakened him, and that in springing out of bed he had nearly knocked an eye out by colliding with some piece of furniture. The pain was for a moment so intense, he said, that he had forgotten all about the noise; so he had lighted a candle and bathed the injured eye. It was already beginning to swell and show signs of discoloration. On my remarking that it was strange the noise hadn't roused Mr. Page, Mr. Maillot at once seized his candle and preceded me into the hall. He was the first to find Mr. Page's body.

"So far as we could determine, he was quite dead. Mr. Maillot at once warned me not to molest anything—he 's a lawyer, I believe—and we agreed that I should notify the police while he remained to guard the house."

Such was Burke's story of the midnight tragedy. Further questioning elicited the assertion that he was utterly unable to account for Maillot's presence in the house; that he had never seen him before, and that he was sure the young man's call had been unexpected by Mr. Page, as the latter had, the last thing the previous evening at his office, instructed Burke to procure a number of specified papers from the file-case, and bring them to the house after supper.

Burke believed it to have been his employer's intention to go through these documents with him, for the purpose of selecting certain ones which had to do with a contemplated business trip to Duluth; but Maillot had arrived about seven o'clock, and he and Mr. Page had at once repaired to the library, where they remained until after eleven o'clock.

Burke had busied himself with other matters until convinced that, as his employer had doubtless given over the Duluth journey, his services would not be required; whereupon he had retired to his own room.

Such minor details were added: the only servant was a woman who came to the house of mornings, and departed before the master went down-town; there was no telephone in the house; and the millionaire's "eccentricities" included, among other things, a preference for candles over any other means of artificial illumination, and a strong disinclination to consume any more fuel than was absolutely necessary.

Learning that the woman servant was at that very moment in the house, I speedily saw to it that a rousing fire was kindled upon every hearth and in every stove; nor were they allowed to die out, as long as I remained beneath the roof. Felix Page would have no further use for his coal and kindling.

When Burke returned from discharging this errand, I continued my questioning.

"So it had been Mr. Page's intention to go to Duluth last night, eh? What for?"

"I don't know. About vessels or his wheat shipments, I suppose; something too important to entrust to the mail or telegraph."

"Did the coming of Mr. Maillot upset his plans?"

"I can't imagine what else caused him to change his mind at the last minute; the journey must have been unusually important to take him away from the city at this time."

Then Maillot's mission could not have been without exceptional weight, I reflected. And unless I was much mistaken, the deferred journey had seriously disarranged some material plan for Mr. Burke. I had nothing more to say, however, for the present.

I sent Burke back to the custody of Callahan and O'Brien, to await the completion of my investigation; for, until I became reasonably sure that I held in my hand all the available facts, it would be rank carelessness on my part to send the whilom secretary about his business.

I would have been hard put to it to interpret the impression which Alexander Burke had made upon my mind, if Stodger had demanded my opinion at that moment. As his round, cherubic face emerged between the curtains, I turned to him with considerable curiosity.

"Told it word for word as he did to me," was my companion's comment. "Could n't have told it better if it had been a piece learnt by heart."

"Oh, he could n't, eh?" observed I, thoughtfully, leading the way to the landing.

But I could not permit myself to theorize at this stage—an indulgence which, when premature, inevitably colors one's opinions, and prejudices all attempts at clear, logical reasoning.