Читать книгу The Alster Case - Rufus Gillmore - Страница 5

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As I turned down the last flight my eyes fell upon a great crowd of people in the lower hall. They were wedged into it like sardines and my first glance told me that they were not young and active enough to be reporters, as I had feared. As midway on the stairs I stood staring at them in perplexity, a man separated himself from them and made straight for me as if directed.

“I’m Coroner Halsperg, in charge of this case,” he stated. “Can you tell me if the deceased is a relative of General Alster’s?”

“She was a cousin, I believe,” I responded.

“Ah, I thought so!” he exclaimed with satisfaction. “And I understand he is here. Will you arrange so that I may have a few words with him?”

I led him upstairs and called General Alster out into the hall. Wondering how a coroner’s jury should have come upon this case with such celerity, I kept my ears open and obtained an explanation. Coroner Halsperg, it appeared, had been at the house earlier and left to take charge of a jury drawn for another inquest. He had thought to curry favor with General Alster by bringing the jury to sit on this case instead.

“Suicide? Well, I don’t know. But I’ll do the best I can for you, General,” I heard him promise before he came hurrying down to call the jury upstairs to inspect the room in which Miss Alster’s body had been found.

Over the banister in the hall above I watched the jury ascend. The members appeared to be citizens of much better standing than I had deemed likely to serve on a coroner’s jury. I did not understand this until later, when it was explained to me that the coroners made a point of selecting citizens accustomed to social conditions somewhat similar to those of the deceased. I did not envy them their duty of inspecting the very room in which Miss Alster had met her death.

The rooms on that floor were arranged as is set forth in the plan below.

I stood at the door after they had all poured into her living-room. Nothing could have induced me to pass through the door. In that room only this morning they had discovered that ghastly, feelingless form that never again could be forced to utter a single word, that could be mutilated without murmuring, that could be cut up without bleeding. On the bed in that adjacent chamber, separated from me only by a wall, lay the body, hearing but not speaking, seeing but pretending not to, knowing but not declaring. I shuddered. To keep my imagination from bringing my flesh in actual contact with it, I listened to the coroner.

He was recapitulating in a quiet, inconsequential tone. “Windows all found shut and locked; that door there into the library found locked, key on this side; this door here into the hall also locked, had to be opened by a locksmith; and the body found here in this chair—” he pointed to the blotch on the carpet—“fully dressed; pistol at her feet. Any questions, gentlemen?” At their silence he led them away downstairs; and rather than be left alone on that floor, I crowded in among the jury.

Coroner Halsperg was a jovial-looking, matter-of-fact, business-like German-American, without imagination, yet with powers of observation that fitted him aptly for his task. In the dining-room downstairs he quickly seated his jury in a cluster at his left, drawing up a chair to the uncovered dining-table for himself. Then, having waved the witnesses and others to seats on the right, he rapped on the table and opened the inquest.

“Doctor Hayden,” he called.

Doctor Hayden took his place at the other side of the table waiting, but the coroner appeared to delay for some reason.

Suddenly in the wide double doorway opening between this room and the reception room in front appeared the man who had peered at me from the death chamber, who had later thrust me into the room where the girls had secluded themselves. He looked carelessly over the whole assemblage, appeared about to withdraw and take a seat in the other room, but at a nod and sign from the coroner advanced into the dining-room and established himself in a corner behind this official. I felt that something was explained. This man who had made himself so much at home about the house was apparently the coroner’s assistant. And yet he seemed too well dressed to hold such an unimportant position.

“Now, Doctor Hayden, if you will tell us just what happened here this morning after you were called,” ordered the coroner.

Doctor Hayden, a short, suave, handsome man just leaving middle age behind him, began at once, by giving his name, age and his address, which proved to be in the immediate neighborhood. “My valet had just finished shaving me and I was about to go down to breakfast when one of the maids in my house came running upstairs with the news that Miss Alster was locked in her room, couldn’t be roused, and her nieces feared that something had happened to her. I hastened to the telephone, and from Miss Beatrice’s alarm gathered that the women relied upon me to do all that was necessary. Getting into my motor, I found a locksmith and took him with me to the house. The four women—Miss Alster’s two nieces, the maid-servant and the cook—were all gathered in the lower hall, not daring to venture upstairs. I did my best to relieve their worst fears by stating that probably Miss Alster was either more soundly asleep than usual or had experienced a mild shock. The locksmith and I proceeded upstairs with the four women trailing along. The locksmith opened the door without forcing it. We entered and saw Miss Alster sitting in a chair but a short distance from the door. She looked as if she might have fallen back in it asleep. The electric lights in the room were burning, though the morning was a bright one. I spoke to her and she did not move. The locksmith and I ran to her. At almost the same instant that I saw the wound in her neck one of the women must have seen the pool of blood behind her on the floor and screamed. We got the women out of the room. I made sure Miss Alster was dead and then sent the cook to telephone the police. While waiting for them to come the locksmith inspected the doors and windows and floor and I examined the wound, all without disturbing anything.”

At the request of the coroner he described in technical terms the position of the wound and the course the bullet had taken. Translated from his Latin verbiage, it revealed that Miss Alster had died instantaneously from a bullet that had entered the back of her neck and followed an upward course into her brain. She had been dead, he judged, thirteen or fourteen hours.

The coroner here interrupted him for the first time. “Then the shot that caused her death must have been fired between nine and ten o’clock last night?”

“Yes, I should think so.”

“From the position and condition of the wound would you say that it could have been self-inflicted?”

“Well,” Doctor Hayden plainly hesitated, “y-es, it was possible.”

“What makes you so doubtful?”

“Because the arm would have to be held in such a cramped and unnatural position to shoot one’s self in the back of the neck—” He illustrated on himself—“but you see it is possible.”

“In case it was self-inflicted there would be powder marks about the wound, wouldn’t there?”

“Yes.”

“Did you discover any?”

“Yes.”

“That is why you think it may have been self-inflicted?”

“Yes, though powder marks can sometimes be made from a distance of three or four feet.”

The coroner seemed to observe at once the stress he laid on this last statement. He asked quickly: “You seem inclined to believe that more likely this wound was made by somebody else firing from that distance—why?”

“Because the powder marks were granulated and scattered. There was not the heavy smear they usually make when a shot is fired at such very close range.”

“Oh!” Coroner Halsperg made the exclamation involuntarily; he turned and his eyes sought those of the man seated in the corner behind him as if this testimony unexpectedly rendered credible some suspicions this man had presented to him.

With a gesture that appeared to signify that he was not yet convinced, he went on.

“In your earlier testimony, Doctor Hayden, you said something about fearing that Miss Alster might have suffered a shock. Why did you think that?”

Doctor Hayden nodded. “Miss Alster was affected by a very dangerous lesion of the heart that might have caused partial or complete paralysis at any moment.”

“Was she aware of this?”

“Yes, both I and the specialists whom I called in at her request thought best to tell her. She was a woman of considerable property and with varied interests; she might die in a flash at any instant without having time to put her affairs in order; she might even bring on the fatal seizure herself by unusual exertion or excitement; we decided on all these accounts it was better to inform her, though I myself too late regretted doing so.”

“Regretted telling her that she was liable to go at any minute? Why?”

“She had a much more morbid disposition than I before realized.” Doctor Hayden stopped and seemed averse to pursuing the inquiry further in this direction.

“Go on,” urged the coroner.

“W-ell, she brooded over the possibility. The thought that she might have no warning that her last minute was approaching had a disastrous effect. She—” Doctor Hayden stopped short; his lips closed firmly.

Coroner Halsperg waited patiently a moment for him to continue. Then he bent forward. “Doctor Hayden,” he demanded severely, “did Miss Alster ever do anything or say anything that led you to fear that she might take her own life?”

“W-ell—”

“Doctor Hayden, the purposes of this inquiry demand that you should answer that question without quibbling or reservation.”

Doctor Hayden flushed a little. “I have no desire to frustrate your purposes,” he disclaimed. “Yes, I think I ought to admit that she expressed some such intention to me once or twice, but I gave little credit to it. I have heard so many people of her age who suffer from incurable diseases speak lightly of having such an intention that I had no belief that she would do it. I had a patient only last week who—”

The coroner made an impatient gesture. “Doctor Hayden,” he interrupted, “are you aware whether she purchased the pistol found by her body with any such intention?”

“I am not.”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“She never did anything more than to say that she preferred death by her own hand to the suspense?”

“I won’t go so far as to say that. She once asked me, I remember, for the name of some poison that would be immediate and painless.”

“Did you give her the name of any such poison?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because in her state of mind I considered it unwise that she should have any such drug at hand.” Again Coroner Halsperg paused to direct a significant glance at the man in the corner behind him. This time his eye carried a look of triumph, as if he had developed testimony that furthered his own contention. The man in the corner met his eye, now as before unmoved, with a calm inexpressive look which denied that he considered himself the target for these glances.

Coroner Halsperg seemed to take no offense. He turned back good-naturedly to his witness. “I shall only require you a few minutes longer, Doctor,” he stated. He drew from his pocket two envelopes, one containing a bulky object. “After I first appeared here this morning, and at my direction, you probed for the bullet, did you not?”

“Yes.”

“Is this it?” The coroner shoved across the table the smaller envelope of the two.

Doctor Hayden reached for the envelope, inspected his signature on it, unsealed the flap and answered: “Yes.”

“How would you describe that bullet?”

“Ordinary .32 caliber, I should say.”

“Yes. And this was the direct cause unquestionably of Miss Alster’s death?”

“Unquestionably.”

“And this was the pistol we found on the floor by her feet?” The coroner passed the other envelope across the table.

After examining the envelope and its contents, Doctor Hayden admitted as much.

Coroner Halsperg bent toward him. “Now immediately after you had secured the bullet—this .32 caliber bullet—we examined the pistol together and what did we find it to be?”

“A Savage automatic .32 equipped with a Maxim silencer.”

“What else?”

“That it was loaded with eight cartridges and that the action was fouled.”

“Indicating that at least one shot had recently been fired from it?”

“Yes.”

“And we also found upon the floor the shell from one .32 caliber bullet?”

“Yes.”

“Then this bullet that you extracted from Miss Alster’s brain could have been fired from this pistol which we found at her feet?”

“Yes.”

“That is all.” Coroner Halsperg smiled. “Oh, one minute, please,” he called suddenly. “I forgot to ask you anything about this pistol. Do you happen to know from your own knowledge or hearsay how it came into Miss Alster’s possession?”

“Yes, I purchased it for her.”

“Ah!” Coroner Halsperg seemed surprised. “Recently?”

“About a month ago.”

“Did she give you any reason why she wanted it?”

“Yes, for protection against burglars. It was one of the natural symptoms of her morbid condition that one day she should talk of taking her life and the next day take every precaution to safeguard it.”

“Where did she keep this pistol?”

“I have seen it a number of times lying on the top of the dresser in her bedroom. I don’t know—yes, I should say that she kept it there most, if not all the time.”

“Did she give you any reason for wanting a pistol equipped with a Maxim silencer?”

“No, but I understood. She was in a highly nervous condition. I took for granted that the very idea of noise of any kind was intolerable to her and the bare thought of a pistol shot—well, can’t you see how she would take every step to escape such a nerve-racking sound as that?”

“You had no fear at all that she might want this pistol to carry out her fitful intention to take her own life?”

“No.” Doctor Hayden flushed angrily. “If I had thought that I never should have secured it for her.”

“That is all, Doctor Hayden.” The coroner turned to the officer seated at his right. “Now, sergeant, we should like to hear from that locksmith,” he stated. “I don’t see him anywhere about the room.”

The police sergeant rose, went over and whispered something to the coroner, who seemed displeased, but only for a moment. He consulted his watch.

“Oh, very well,” he stated, “in that case I think we’ll adjourn this inquest for luncheon. We’ll meet again at—well, say three o’clock. That will give us time to get the locksmith and to notify the ladies that we shall require their testimony.”

Coroner Halsperg rose and there was a general rising and movement to the door of the entire assemblage. As I entered the reception room at the front I was astonished to perceive General Alster sitting there on a divan where he must have heard all the testimony in the next room without being observed by any present. Doctor Hayden was seated beside him and talking animatedly as if arguing his own belief that Miss Alster had never committed suicide. I could not forbear passing near so as to hear what the doctor was saying.

“You unquestionably should do it,” he was declaring. “I will stake my professional reputation that the police will never solve this mystery. Think, General, the patrolmen are chosen for their height, weight, and physical prowess only; if they possess any mental efficiency it is purely accidental; and the detectives are recruited from such a fine lot of animals. It isn’t to be expected that they will have the mental fitness or intelligence to—”

But General Alster’s eyes had fallen on me as I was passing. He rose, with apologies, and held out his hand to me.

“Mr. Swan, I believe.” He introduced me to Doctor Hayden. “As the man who I have just learned will have the deciding power you should hear what the doctor has to say. He insists that we should employ a private detective on this case.”

The doctor’s eyes met mine; he, about to renew his argument, I, about to protest at undergoing such a needless expense; but we neither of us found opportunity just then to state our opinions, for Coroner Halsperg, espying General Alster, had broken through the crowd to shake hands with him, having evidently caught his last words.

“General,” he interrupted hotly, “if you think of wasting your money putting any outside men on this case don’t, for Heaven’s sake, fall into the clutches of any of those dead-and-alive Hawkshaws. They’ll simply soldier along, bleed you for all you’ll stand for, and in the end have nothing whatever to show you. There are only a few good detectives among all the bad lot in that line. Don’t go it blind. Let me suggest one to you.”

General Alster nodded. “Yes, I agree with you. But there’s one man who, if one can believe the newspapers, seems so head and shoulders above all the rest that there appears to be no choice. I mean—”

“You mean Trask,” interrupted Coroner Halsperg confidently.

“You can’t mean anyone else,” broke in Doctor Hayden.

“Yes,” assented General Alster, “Trask was the man I had in mind, but—”

“Shall I call him?” asked Coroner Halsperg, turning sharply away from us to look over the outgoing crowd.

“What! Do I understand he is here?” exclaimed General Alster.

“Coroner, you aren’t having fun with us?” demanded Doctor Hayden.

“Trask here!” My own astonishment was as irrepressible as theirs.

“He was here a few minutes ago,” responded Coroner Halsperg, too concerned in his search to pay attention to our bewilderment. “Ah, there he is! That short thickset man over there working toward the door with the sergeant.”

We all turned and looked with silent interest at this man who had made a national reputation for himself as a fathomer of subtle crimes and a runner-down of the adroitest criminals.

It was the man whom Agnes had taken for a real estate buyer. It was the man whom I had taken first for a business man and then for the coroner’s assistant.

“Oh, I noticed him at the inquest, but—” Doctor Hayden decided against publishing his disappointment at the famous detective’s appearance.

General Alster also seemed unimpressed. “I—I don’t think we will bother to speak to him, not just now, anyway.”

Coroner Halsperg smiled, but said nothing.

I caught the drift of their feelings and voiced my own. “Why, he looks to me like an everyday sort of business man—the sort you see thousands of downtown—not a bit like a detective,” I added.

“Well, that’s not exactly what I should call a handicap—not for a detective,” responded Coroner Halsperg dryly.