Читать книгу The Mystery of the Hidden Room (Vintage Mysteries Series) - Marion Harvey - Страница 5

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"Ruth!"

My cry startled her. Dropping the pistol and flinging out her arms, she laughed hysterically and stumbled toward me. Something in my face, perhaps the horror I could not help revealing, arrested her before she reached me.

"Carlton! Surely you can't think I killed him!" she cried. "It—it would be too monstrous!" And with a fluttering sigh she sank in a heap on the floor.

Tenderly I gathered her limp form in my arms and was on the point of bearing her from the room when suddenly without any warning the study was flooded with light and Philip Darwin's secretary was standing obsequiously before me.

"Shall I telephone for a doctor, Mr. Davies? And for the police?" with a glance at his erstwhile master.

At mention of the police I frowned though I knew of course that their presence was inevitable. But there was no need to bring them buzzing about our ears any sooner than was absolutely necessary.

"A doctor, yes. The police can wait," I said abruptly.

"Just as you say, Mr. Davies," he returned with a leering smile. "I'll call Dr. Haskins."

He stepped to the table and picked up the phone and while he summoned the doctor I looked at him more attentively. He was just as Ruth had described him and instinctively distrust of this pale-faced secretary arose in my mind, distrust of him and his pussy-footing ways. I had not heard him enter the room behind me. For ought I knew to the contrary he might have been in the study when the shot was fired, sulking among the shadows in the corner while awaiting a chance to kill his employer. But then how in the name of all the gods had Ruth come by the pistol!

Which brought me back to the realization that I was still holding her unconscious form in my arms. I must carry her upstairs to her room. Yet I disliked intensely leaving the secretary alone with the dead, fearing I knew not what perversion of justice, dreading also that he might take the opportunity to summon the police before I was ready for them.

I glanced around the study and was relieved to find that the room possessed only one door, that by which I had entered, whose key was still in the lock, but on the inside. Ordering the secretary to lead the way to Ruth's apartments, I closed and locked the door of the study behind me, and pocketing the key followed him up the broad staircase.

Hardly had I laid Ruth upon her bed when a sharp ring startled me, and I glanced apprehensively at Orton. Could it be that others besides ourselves had heard the shot?

"No one could hear anything. The grounds are too extensive," he said, answering my unspoken thought. "That must be the doctor. He lives only a short distance from here."

Much as I disliked him I could have blessed him for those words, for already the plan to keep the police from questioning Ruth that night was simmering in my brain.

"Bring him here at once," I commanded, and Orton slipped noiselessly from the room.

I heard him opening the front door, heard the sound of voices apparently in consultation, and then the doctor's step upon the stair. I had expected an old family physician. The man who stepped briskly across the threshold was small and slight, almost a boy in years, yet having an air of knowing his business to perfection. Without ostentation, and also without asking needless questions, he examined Ruth quietly and attentively while I explained that she was suffering from the shock of having discovered her husband's murdered body.

"And, Doctor, could you not give her an opiate to insure a perfect night's rest," I added in a lower tone.

He gave me a swift appraising glance from his keen eyes, then as if satisfied, nodded to himself.

"Yes, I think you are right. It is far more important to save her reason than that the police should have the satisfaction of questioning her."

As he administered the dose to the now conscious girl I mentally decided that there was not very much that escaped this young doctor's observation.

"Is there no one to stay with Mrs. Darwin?" he inquired in a dissatisfied tone. "Where is her maid?"

"She sleeps in the servants' wing, Dr. Haskins," replied Orton.

"Go and get her," ordered the doctor briefly.

When the maid arrived on the scene, only half awake and very much tousled as if she had flung on her clothes without regard to appearance, the doctor bade her establish herself in the boudoir. Then satisfied that there would be someone within call in case of necessity, he asked to be conducted to the scene of the tragedy.

"You have notified the police?" questioned Dr. Haskins as we descended the stairs.

"No," I replied. "I waited to hear your verdict first."

"Better send for them at once," was his reply.

"I will do it, Dr. Haskins," put in the secretary eagerly.

As Orton moved to the hall phone I inserted the key in the lock of the study door and opened it with some trepidation, remembering what lay within. I had forgotten to turn out the lights and as we entered from the semi-obscurity of the hall, the chair and its horrible occupant seemed literally to spring out at us as we approached. To the doctor death was a familiar sight, but I could not bear to watch him as he probed the wound with skillful fingers, so I turned away and desirous of having something other than my thoughts to occupy my mind, I took cognizance for the first time of this room where the crime had been committed.

The study, as I remarked before, lay to the left of the hall and like its counterpart, the drawing-room, it was exceedingly large, a good forty feet in length at the very least. Again, like its counterpart, the side opening upon the garden was a series of French windows hung with velvet draperies of a rich brown that harmonized perfectly with the luxurious appointments of the room. Whatever one might say for his morals, one could certainly find no fault with Philip Darwin's taste in furnishing his study. It was the den of a sybarite, not the conventional study of the modern business man. The only jarring notes were supplied by the mahogany table directly in the center of the room, at whose head stood the chair in which the dead man lay, and by an immense safe let into the narrower wall, whose highly varnished surface reflected Darwin's face as clearly as any pier-glass would have done.

For a space I stood gazing at the safe, wondering what any man would want with such a gigantic contraption when I became conscious of the reflection of the doctor's occupation. With a feeling of nausea I swung away toward the windows when, struck by a sudden idea, I hastily examined them. It had occurred to me that while we were standing idle the murderer had probably made good his escape through one of them, since there was no other means of egress which he could have used with impunity. Imagine then my feelings to find that the windows were not only locked, but were also supplied with burglar alarms, which precluded beyond the shadow of a doubt their recent use by anyone intent upon escaping from the study!

With dwindling hope I tried the safe and finding that locked also, I returned to the table, where despite my aversion I could not help glancing at the man who, living, had destroyed my happiness and who, dead, was about to bereave me of all hope as well.

I had known Philip Darwin very slightly, a mere bowing acquaintance, so that it was a distinct shock to me to discover that he was so fine-looking a man. I had always accounted him handsome in a bold, dashing way, with his dark hair, his gold eyeglasses, and his neatly trimmed coal black Vandyke; but, death, that dread visitant that plays such queer tricks upon us mortals, had ennobled his countenance and rejuvenated him by wiping away all traces of the dissipation which of late had coarsened his features and left its marks beneath his eyes and around his mouth. Had it not been for that red stain which seemed to mock me as I gazed, I would have said that he was merely asleep, so gracefully did he repose in the big chair, the left hand holding a small handkerchief upon his knee, the right flung out across the arm of the chair.

Just then I noticed that the doctor was gravely regarding the pistol as it lay on the floor beside the chair, and recalling where I had last seen it, I hesitantly asked the question whose answer I knew before the words had left my lips.

"Is there any possibility of suicide?"

"None at all," replied Dr. Haskins. "He has been shot through the left lung and death occurred from internal hemorrhage. The absence of powder stains and the fact that the bullet entered at an angle preclude the idea of suicide."

"Then Mr. Darwin was not killed instantly?" I asked.

"No. I should judge that he had lived at least twenty minutes after the shot was fired."

It could not have been more than twenty minutes, or at most, a half-hour since I had heard the report that had turned my world so suddenly upside down! Had he then been alive when I carried Ruth from the room? Had I locked him in to breathe his last alone, when perhaps I might have saved his life? The thought was too horrible to contemplate!

"Doctor!" I cried. "You mean he has only just died? That something could have been done to save him?"

The doctor looked at me in some surprise. "Nothing could have been done to save him," he answered quietly. "From the condition of the body——"

But we had no time for further discussion for a great pounding had ensued at the front door and in a few moments Orton returned with the police. There were five of them, the Sergeant and his two men and a couple of detectives from the Central Office, and they made an imposing array as they entered the room.

The Sergeant, a mild-looking man, nodded to us pleasantly enough, deplored the necessity which had brought him to the house, and ordered his men to guard the premises and to permit no one to leave the place under any circumstances, while the detectives made the rounds of the room, examining everything from the carpet to the ceiling.

"I do not believe I can be of further use," said Dr. Haskins. "Let me know when the inquest is called and I shall be glad to give my testimony."

The Sergeant took down his name and address, and, when the doctor was gone, turned to me and asked me who I was. I mentioned the name of the brokerage firm with which I was connected and of which I had the honor of being the junior partner. The name of that firm was a well-known one throughout the city and its effect upon the Sergeant was instantaneous. Glancing at me with marked respect he asked me to give him an account of the affair. It was precious little that I could tell him, however. I had been in the drawing-room, had heard the shot, and on rushing in had found Darwin dead.

While the Sergeant was transcribing this information in his notebook the younger of the two detectives, who had been glancing over the objects upon the table, spoke up.

"It was an inside job, then, Sergeant. The windows are all locked and anyone leaving by the door would have encountered this gentleman coming in," and he looked at me very suspiciously indeed.

The worthy Sergeant scratched his chin and looked perplexed. Then his eye fell on Orton standing meekly in the doorway.

"Hello, where the devil did you come from?" he asked.

"I—I'm the man who sent for you, who just let you in," he stammered, whether from fright or awe I don't know. "I'm Mr. Darwin's secretary."

"I see. What do you know about this affair?"

He was opening his mouth to say I know not what when he caught my eye. I was determined that Ruth should have a night's rest if I had to go to jail as the consequence.

"I heard the shot and when I entered the room Mr. Davies was looking at the body," he said with a malicious glance in my direction.

I could have laughed aloud as the Sergeant regarded me from beneath frowning brows. I was a prominent man and he dared not risk a false arrest.

"Are you the only two people awake in this house?" he inquired, to gain time.

"Mrs. Darwin heard the shot but she was prostrated by the news and the doctor does not wish her disturbed until morning," I said, purposely giving the wrong impression by my statement.

Again the Sergeant's troubled glance rested upon me. "What are you doing here at this time of night, Mr. Davies?" he asked abruptly.

"I came here on important business," I answered.

At this juncture the older detective whispered something to the Sergeant and handed him a paper he had taken from the table drawer.

"Mr. Davies, I am under the painful necessity of keeping you under surveillance until the arrival of the coroner. You will remain in this house until that time."

I bowed. "Then you have no objections to my retiring?" I asked.

"None at all, Mr. Davies. Gregory," he called, and when the burly policeman appeared in the doorway, "You will accompany Mr. Davies to his room and see that he does not attempt to leave the house."

"Very good, sir," saluted the policeman.

"Good night, Sergeant," I said. "I am sorry to put you to so much trouble." Then I touched Orton upon the shoulder. "If you will be so kind I should like to be shown to a vacant room and might I borrow a suit of pajamas?"

I linked my arm through his and forced him to accompany me upstairs. By dint of hinting that he had no way of proving that he was not in the study at the fatal moment and that my word had far more weight than his, should I choose to cast suspicion upon him, I frightened the cowardly fellow into promising to keep his knowledge to himself for that night at least. That the police were bound to learn that Ruth was also in the study was inevitable, but at any rate I should have gained her a few more hours of freedom, for whichever way I looked at it the case was black against her.