Читать книгу The Man Inside - Natalie Sumner Lincoln - Страница 9

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“I’M glad you could come back, Mr. Hunter,” said Brett, as Joshua opened the library door of the Carew residence and admitted Douglas. “Can you stay here all night?”

“If necessary,” replied Douglas, glancing at him in surprise.

“I think it would be best. Mrs. Winthrop is completely unstrung; her niece, Miss Carew, prostrated from shock, and Mr. Philip Winthrop in bed with a bad attack of delirium tremens. In such a household your presence to-night might be invaluable if anything else were to happen—not that I am anticipating any further trouble or tragedies.”

“Very well, I will stay,” agreed Douglas.

“’Deed I’se mighty glad ter hyar dat,” volunteered Joshua, who hovered just inside the door on the pretext of arranging some furniture. “But I dunno whar I’ll put yo’, suh. Miss Eleanor, she’s in de gues’ chambah, an’ Annette’s in de room back ob her’s, and de nusses fo’ Marse Philip has der spar rooms in der third flo’.”

“Never mind, Joshua, I can camp out in this room. That sofa looks very comfortable,” and Douglas pointed to the large upholstered davenport which faced the empty fireplace.

“Just a moment, Joshua,” exclaimed Brett, as the old butler moved toward the door. “Did you see Senator Carew leave the house yesterday afternoon?”

“No, suh.”

“Did he take luncheon here?”

“No, suh; he cum in ’bout three o’clock; leastways dat was when he rung fo’ me, an’ I reckon he’d only jes’ arrived, ’cause he had his hat an’ coat on his arm.”

“What did he want with you?”

“He axed me why Hamilton hadn’t called fo’ him at de Capitol as ordered, an’ when I tole him dat Hamilton was a-sittin’ in de stable doin’ nuffin, he said I was ter go right out an’ send him to de library—which I done.”

“Did you see Senator Carew after that?”

“Yessir. After ’bout fifteen minutes Hamilton cum out lookin’ mighty black an’ mutterin’ under his breff. Den Marse James rung fo’ me ag’in, an’ sent me to tell Marse Philip dat he wanted ter see him to onst.”

“Was there anything unusual in Senator Carew’s manner?” inquired Douglas, who had been listening attentively to the old darky’s statements.

“He seemed considerable put out, dat was all,” responded Joshua, after due reflection.

“Was Senator Carew irritable and quick-tempered?”

“Mostly he was real easy-going, but sometimes he had flare-ups, an’ den it was bes’ ter keep outer his way.”

“Did you find Mr. Winthrop?”

“Yessir. I gib him de message, an’ he went right down to de lib’ary.”

“Do you know how long Senator Carew and young Winthrop remained in this room?”

“No, suh. I went ter de fron’ doo’, an’ while in de hall I heard a regular ruction goin’ on inside dis room.”

“Could you hear what was said?” demanded Brett eagerly.

Joshua shook his head. “I couldn’t make out a word, but Marse James’ voice was powerful riz an’ Marse Philip’s, too.”

“Was that the first time that Senator Carew and Mr. Winthrop have quarreled?”

“Deys had words now and den,” muttered Joshua, evasively.

“About what?” broke in Douglas, sharply.

“Oh, nuffin in particular. Marse James uster get mad with Marse Philip ’cause he wore so lazy, an’ den he’s been adrinkin’ right smart, which Marse James didn’t like nuther.”

“Is Mr. Winthrop a heavy drinker?”

“No, suh, but he’s been adrinkin’ pretty steady fo’ de pas’ three months.”

“Have you any idea, Joshua, what caused the quarrel yesterday afternoon?”

“Well, it mighter started over Hamilton. Marse Philip persuaded Marse James to keep him las’ fall when he was ’bout to discharge him fo’ bein’ impertinent.”

“Did Senator Carew give you a letter to mail yesterday afternoon, or a note to deliver for him?” inquired Douglas thoughtfully.

“No, suh, he did not,” Joshua declared with firmness.

“How long have you been with Senator Carew, Joshua?”

“Most thirty years, suh. I worked fust fo’ his father, der ole Gineral. Ef yo’ doan want me fo’ nuffin’ mo’, gen’man, I reckon I’ll go an’ close up de house fo’ de night.”

“All right, Joshua,” and the butler beat a hasty retreat.

Douglas took out his cigarette case and handed it to Brett. “Formed any new theory?” he asked, striking a match and applying it to the cigarette between his lips.

Brett did not answer at once. “The inquest will make Winthrop and Joshua talk. I am convinced neither of them has told all he knows of this affair,” he said finally.

Douglas nodded in agreement. “But the inquest will have to be postponed now. Winthrop is in no shape to appear before it.”

“And Miss Carew, who is an equally important witness, is still confined to her bed,” volunteered Brett. “Miss Thornton tells me that she cries whenever the subject of the murder is mentioned, and that she is completely unstrung by the tragedy.”

“By the way, who is this Miss Thornton?” asked Douglas. “And what does she look like?”

“She is a cousin of Mrs. Truxton, of Georgetown”—Douglas whistled in surprise; Brett glanced at him sharply, then continued: “I am told she is Miss Carew’s most intimate friend, although about five years older. Miss Thornton must be about twenty-three. She is tall and dark, and has the most magnificent blue eyes I have ever seen in a woman’s head.”

Douglas drew in his breath sharply. “It must be the same girl whom I knew in Paris, but I had no idea then that she was related to old family friends of mine in Georgetown.” He changed the conversation abruptly. “Come, Brett, what theory have you formed?” he asked again with more emphasis.

“I think both Winthrop and Hamilton have a guilty knowledge of Senator Carew’s death, but how deeply Winthrop is implicated we have yet to learn.”

“But the motive?” argued Douglas. “It is highly improbable that Winthrop killed the Senator because he discharged a worthless servant.”

“If we could find that letter which I am convinced the Senator was writing when Winthrop entered the room yesterday afternoon, we would know the motive fast enough,” retorted Brett.

“Have you searched Carew’s belongings?”

“Yes, all of them, and all the furniture in his bedroom, sitting-room, and bath, as well as the rooms on this floor; but I couldn’t find a trace of it. I have also thoroughly searched his office at the Capitol.”

“Did you think to examine the landau? The Senator might possibly have tucked it under the carriage seat.”

“I thought of that, and examined the interior of the carriage, but there is no possible place where a letter could be concealed. The carriage has recently been reupholstered in leather and there’s no crack or tear where an envelope could slip through.”

“Have you inquired at the different messenger services in town?”

“Yes, but there is no record at any of their offices that Senator Carew sent for a messenger to deliver a note yesterday afternoon or night. I also sent word to the post-office officials asking to have an outlook kept, and a search made for a letter franked by Senator Carew and postmarked yesterday.”

“It’s exceedingly doubtful if you get any results from that quarter, when you don’t know when or where such a letter was posted or to what city it was addressed.”

“The frank may help,” Brett glanced at the clock. “Eleven-thirty—I must be going.” He rose. “Did you meet with any success, Mr. Hunter, in the inquiries you said you would make this afternoon?”

“In a way, yes. Winthrop was at the Alibi Club, taking supper with Captain Stanton. But Julian Wallace, who was one of the party, told me that Winthrop left the club about twelve-thirty.”

Brett whistled. “And he did not reach this house until three hours later! I am afraid friend Winthrop will have much to explain when he recovers his senses.”

“Hold on; the Carew carriage returned here a few minutes before one o’clock—when the Senator was found dead inside it. That only left Winthrop less than half an hour to get from the club to Mrs. Owen’s residence, a considerable distance, and commit the murder.”

“It’s not impossible for a man in a motor,” declared Brett sharply.

“I thought Senator Carew only kept horses,” exclaimed Douglas.

“And so he did, but Winthrop owns an Oldsmobile roadster. I was here at the house when he arrived this morning. The machine has a cover and wind-shield, so he was fairly well protected from the rain. As I said before, Winthrop will have much to explain. I hope you will have an undisturbed night, Mr. Hunter; I told Joshua and the nurses to call you if anything is needed.”

“Don’t worry about me,” laughed Douglas, as the two men stepped into the hall. “I’ve camped out in much worse places than this room.”

“Well, good night. I’ll be here the first thing in the morning,” and Brett pulled open the door and ran down the steps.

As Douglas replaced the night latch on the front door, Joshua joined him.

“I brunged yo’ dis ’comfort’,” raising a soft eiderdown quilt, which he carried tucked on his left arm. “I thought yo’ might like it over yo’ on der sofa.”

“Thanks very much,” exclaimed Douglas, taking it from him.

Joshua followed him to the library door. “I ain’t goin’ ter bed,” he explained. “I couldn’t sleep no-how,” the soft, drawling voice held a touch of pathos, “Marse James was mighty kind ter me—and thirty years is a mighty long time ter be ’sociated in de fam’bly. So I jes’ reckon I’ll sit on der window-seat in der hall. Ef yo’ want anythin’ jest let me know, Marse Hunter.”

“All right, Joshua. I’ll leave this door open, so you can call me if I am needed. Good night.”

Douglas placed the door ajar, and walked over to the well-filled bookcases, and, after some deliberation, selected a book and sat down in the revolving chair. The book held his attention and he read on and on. He finished the last chapter and tossed the volume on the table, then glanced at the clock, the dial of which registered two-thirty. The upholstered davenport, which stood with its back resting against the length of the desk table, looked inviting, and Douglas rose, extinguished the light, and walked over and lay down.

After placing several sofa cushions under his head he pulled the eiderdown quilt over him, as he felt chilly. The added warmth and the softness of the couch were most grateful to his tired body. He was drowsily conscious of the clock striking; then his last thought was of Eleanor Thornton—beautiful Eleanor Thornton—strange that they should meet again; why, he had actually run away from her in Paris—a few minutes more and he was sound asleep.

“He made out a shadowy form just ahead of him and

darted forward”

Some time later Douglas opened his sleepy eyes, then closed them again drowsily. The room was in total darkness. As he lay listening to the tick-tock of the clock he became conscious that he was not alone in the room. Instantly he was wide awake. He pulled out his matchbox, only to find it empty. As he lay a moment debating what he should do, a soft, small hand was laid on his forehead. He felt the sudden shock which his presence gave the intruder, for the fingers tightened convulsively on his forehead, then were hastily removed. He threw out his hands to catch the intruder, but they closed on empty space.

Swiftly and noiselessly Douglas rose to his feet and stepped softly around the end of the davenport, hands outstretched, groping for what he could not see. Suddenly, his eyes grown accustomed to the darkness, he made out a shadowy form just ahead of him and darted forward. His foot caught in the long wire of the desk telephone and, dragging the instrument clattering with him, he fell forward, striking his face and forehead against the edge of the open door.

“Fo’ de lub ob Hebben!” gasped Joshua, awakened out of a sound sleep, and scared almost out of his wits. “Marse Hunter! Marse Hunter! Whar yo’ at?”

“Here,” answered Douglas. “Turn on the hall light; then come to me.”

Obediently Joshua groped his way to the button and switched on the light, after which he hastened into the library and did the same there. Douglas, who sat on the floor nursing a bleeding nose, blinked as the strong light met his dazed eyes.

“Did you see anyone leave this room, Joshua?” he demanded.

“No, suh.” The butler’s eyes were rolling about to an alarming extent, showing the whites against his black face, which had grown gray with fright. “’Twarn’t no one ter see—it must ter been a harnt.”

“Nonsense,” exclaimed Douglas heatedly. The telephone bell was keeping up a dull clicking as the sleepy central tried to find out what was wanted, and he leaned over and replaced the receiver on the hook as he picked up the instrument. “No ghost put out your hall light, and no ghost wears clothes. I caught the intruder’s gown, and if it hadn’t ripped away I’d have caught her.” As he spoke he opened his right hand and disclosed a torn piece of oriental silk.