The Gloved Hand by Burton Egbert Stevenson (manga ebook reader .TXT) 📗

"that you sat for five hours and more staring at that thing?"

"My vigil began at sundown," said the adept, with a slight smile. "Last night was the White Night of Siva. It must be spent in meditation by all who follow him."

Goldberger worried his moustache with nervous fingers, as he stared at the adept, plainly at a loss how to proceed.

"Perhaps," ventured Godfrey, softly, "your crystal could give us some further information which we very much desire."

The adept turned his dark eyes on the speaker, and it seemed to me that they glittered more coldly, as though they recognised an adversary.

"What information, sir?" he asked.

"Information as to the manner of Mr. Vaughan's passing—can you tell us anything of that?"

The adept shook his head.

"I only saw the soul as it passed over. I knew, however, that it had been torn from the body by violence."

"How did you know that?" broke in Goldberger.

"Because of its colour," answered the adept; and then, when he saw our benumbed expressions, he explained. "Souls which pass in peace are white; souls which the body has driven forth by its own hands are black; souls which are torn from the body by an alien hand are red. My pupil's soul was red."

I could see that Goldberger did not know whether to snort with derision or to be impressed. He ended by smiling feebly. As for me, I admit I was impressed.

"When an alien hand, as you put it, is used," said the coroner, "we call it murder in this country, and the law tries to get hold of the alien and to send his soul after his victim's. That's what we are trying to do now. We are officers of the law."

The adept bowed.

"Any assistance I can give you," he said, softly, "I shall be glad to give; though to do murder, as you call it, is not always to do wrong."

"Our law doesn't make such nice distinctions," said Goldberger, drily. "May I ask your profession?"

"I am a White Priest of Siva," said the adept, touching his forehead lightly with the fingers of his left hand, as in reverence.

"Who is Siva?"

"The Holy One, the Over-soul, from whom we come and to whom we all return."

Again Goldberger worried his moustache.

"Well," he said, at last, "until the mystery is cleared up, I must ask you not to leave this house."

"I have no wish to leave it, sir."

"And the other fellow—the fellow who took away the snake—where was he last night?"

"He slept in a small room opening into this one."

"May I look into it?"

"Certainly," and the adept swept aside the curtains.

The room into which we looked was not more than ten feet square, and empty of furniture, except for a mat in the middle of the floor and three or four baskets set against the wall. On the mat was squatted the attendant, his legs crossed with feet uppermost, and his hands held palm to palm before him. On the floor in front of him were what looked to me like a strip of cloth, a bone and a tooth. He did not raise his eyes at our entrance, but sat calmly contemplating these relics.

Goldberger's moustache lost a few more hairs as he stood staring down at this strange figure.

"What are those things? His grandmother's remains?" he asked, at last.

"Those are the attributes of Kali," said the adept gravely, as one rebuking blasphemy.

"Very interesting, no doubt," commented the coroner drily. "Would it disturb the gentleman too much to ask him a few questions?"

"He speaks no English, but I shall be glad to translate for you."

The coroner thought this over for a moment, and then shook his head.

"No," he said; "I'll wait for the court interpreter. You might tell him, though, that there will be officers of the law on duty below, and that he is not to leave the house."

"I will caution him," answered the adept, and let the curtain fall, as we passed out.

"I suppose there are some other servants somewhere about the place?" asked Goldberger.

"There are three—they sleep on the floor above."

"Are they Hindus, too?"

"Oh, no," and the adept smiled. "Two of them are German and the other is Irish."

The coroner reddened a little, for the words somehow conveyed a subtle rebuke.

"That is all for to-day," he said; "unless Mr. Simmonds has some questions?" and he looked at his companion.

But Simmonds, to whom all these inquiries had plainly been successive steps into the darkness, shook his head.

"Then we will bid you good-morning," added Goldberger, still a little on his dignity. "And many thanks for your courtesy."

The adept responded with a low bow and with a smile decidedly ironical. I, at least, felt that we had got the worst of the encounter.

Goldberger, without a word, led the way up the stair that mounted to the attic story, and there soon succeeded in routing out the three servants. The Germans proved to be a man and wife, well past middle age, the former the gardener and the latter the cook. Erin was represented by a red-haired girl who was the housemaid. All of them were horrified when told their master had been murdered, but none of them could shed any light on the tragedy. They had all been in bed long before midnight, and had not been disturbed by any of the noises of the night.

This could be the more readily understood when, as a little investigation showed, we found that they had all slept with doors locked and windows closed and shuttered. Any sounds from the house would really have to penetrate two doors to reach them, for their rooms were at the end of an entry, closed by an outer door. As to the windows, it was the rule of the house that they should always be closed and tightly shuttered during the night. They knew of no especial reason for the rule, though the Irish girl remarked that, with heathen in the house and lunatics, there was no telling how the nights were spent.

They were all evidently innocent of any connection with the tragedy; but Goldberger, for some ridiculous reason, brought them downstairs with him and made them look at their master's body. This had no result except to send the Irish girl into hysterics, and Hinman for a few minutes had another patient on his hands.

"Well," said Goldberger, passing his hand wearily across his forehead, "I guess there's nothing more to be done. And I'm dead tired. I had just got to bed when Simmonds called me. I'll set the inquest for ten o'clock to-morrow morning, and I'll hold it here in this room. We'll want you here, Mr. Godfrey, and you, Mr. Lester. And—oh, yes," he added suddenly, "we'll want that Mr. Swain, whose story I haven't heard yet. No doubt of his appearing is there?"

"Absolutely none," I assured him.

"I could put him under guard, of course," said Goldberger, pensively, "for I'm sure he'll prove to be a very important witness; but if you will be personally responsible for him, Mr. Lester...."

"I will," I agreed, and Goldberger nodded.

"Have him here at ten o'clock, then," he said.

"Dr. Hinman would better see him again to-day," I suggested.

"I'll call about four o'clock this afternoon," the doctor promised; and, leaving Goldberger to complete his arrangements and Simmonds to post his men, Godfrey and I stepped out upon the lawn.

It was after five o'clock and the sun was already high. It scarcely seemed possible that, only six hours before, Swain had crossed the wall for the first time!

"We'd better go out as we came," Godfrey said, and turned across the lawn. He walked with head down and face puckered with thought.

"Can you make anything of it?" I asked, but he only shook his head.

We soon reached the ladder, and Godfrey paused to look about him. The shrubbery was broken in one place, as though some heavy body had fallen on it, and this was evidently the mark of Swain's wild jump from the wall.

At last, Godfrey motioned me to precede him, and, when I was over, reached one ladder down to me and descended to my side. We replaced the ladders against the shed, and then walked on toward the house. As we turned the corner, we found Mrs. Hargis standing on the front porch.

"Well, you are out early!" she said.

"Yes," laughed Godfrey; "fact is, we haven't been to bed yet. Will you have something to eat, Lester, before you turn in?"

A glass of milk was all I wanted; and five minutes later I mounted to my room. I glanced in for a moment at Swain, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully; and then darkened my room as well as I could and tumbled into bed. I must have dropped asleep the moment my head touched the pillow, for I remember nothing more until I opened my eyes to find Godfrey standing over me.

CHAPTER XI SWAIN'S STORY

"I hate to wake you, Lester," Godfrey said, smiling, "but it's nearly four o'clock. Dr. Hinman will be here before long, and if you're going to hear Swain's story, you'll have to be getting up."

I sat up in bed at once, all trace of sleepiness vanished.

"How is he?" I asked.

"He seems to be all right. He's been up for some time. I haven't said anything to him about last night—I wanted the doctor to see him first; besides, I thought you ought to be present."

"I'll be down right away," I said, and twenty minutes later, I found Godfrey and Swain sitting together on the front porch. As Swain returned my greeting, I was relieved to see that his eyes were no longer fixed and staring, but seemed quite normal.

"Mrs. Hargis has your breakfast ready," said Godfrey, "and I think I'll join you. Will you come, Mr. Swain?"

"No, thank you," Swain replied. "I had my breakfast only about an hour ago. I'll just sit here, if you don't mind."

"All right," said Godfrey, "we won't be long," and together we went back to the dining-room.

Mrs. Hargis was there, and greeted us as though stopping out till dawn and breakfasting at four o'clock in the afternoon were the most ordinary things in the world. A copy of the Record was lying, as usual, on the table, and a black headline caught my eye:

WORTHINGTON VAUGHAN
MURDERED

RICH RECLUSE STRANGLED TO
DEATH AT HIS HOME IN
THE BRONX

I glanced at Godfrey in surprise.

"Yes," he said, reddening a little, "I was just in time to 'phone the story in for the last edition. I called the doctor first, though, Lester—you must give me credit for that! And it was a beautiful scoop!"

"What time did you get up?" I asked.

"About noon. I sent down the full story for to-morrow morning's paper just before I called you."

"Any developments?"

"None that I know of. Of course, I haven't heard Swain's story yet."

"Godfrey," I said, "it seems to me that this thing is going to look bad for Swain—I think Goldberger suspects him already. A good deal depends upon his story."

"Yes, it does," Godfrey agreed.

We finished the meal in silence. It was not a long one, for I, at least, was anxious to get back to Swain. As we rejoined him on the porch, Dr. Hinman's car came up the drive. He got out and shook hands with us. As he greeted Swain, I saw him glance anxiously into his eyes—and saw also that the glance reassured him.

"You're feeling better to-day," he said, sitting down by Swain's side.

"Yes," said Swain quietly, "I'm feeling all right again."

"How is Miss Vaughan, doctor?" I asked.

Swain jerked round toward the doctor.

"Is Miss Vaughan ill?" he demanded.

"She had a shock last night," answered the doctor, slowly; "but she's getting along nicely. She'll have to be kept quiet for a few days."

I was looking at Swain curiously. He was rubbing his head perplexedly, as though trying to bring some confused memory to the surface of his mind.

"I seem to remember," he said, "that Miss Vaughan fainted, and that I picked her up." Then he stopped and stared at us. "Is her father dead?"

"Yes," I said, and he fell to rubbing his head again.

I glanced at Hinman, and he nodded slightly. I took it for assurance that Swain might be questioned. Godfrey, who had gone indoors to get some cigars, came back with a handful. All of us, including Swain, lighted up.

"Now, Swain," I began, "I want you to tell us all that you remember of last night's happenings. Both Mr. Godfrey and Dr. Hinman are in my confidence and you may speak freely before them. I want them to hear your story, because I want their advice."

There was a pucker of