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a moment, I could not reply,

and no one else sought to break the silence.

 

Maitland, as if Gwen’s last remark had given rise to a sudden

determination, glided to the body. He examined the throat, raised

the right hand and looked at the fingers: then he stepped back a

little and wrote something in his notebook. This done, he tried

the folding doors and found them locked on the inside; then the two

windows on the south side of the room, which he also found fastened.

He opened the hall door slightly and the hinges creaked noisily, of

all of which he made a note. Then taking a rule from his pocket he

went to the east window, and measured the opening, and then the

distance between this window and the chair in which the old gentleman

had sat, recording his results as before. His next act astonished

me not a little and had the effect of recalling me to my senses.

With his penknife he cut a circle in the carpet around each leg of

the chair on which the body rested. He continued his examinations

with quiet thoroughness, but I ceased now to follow him closely,

since I had begun to feel the necessity of convincing Gwen of her

error, and was casting about for the best way to do so.

 

“My dear Miss Darrow,” I said at length; “you attach too much

importance to the last words of your father, who, it is clear, was

not in his right mind. You must know that he has, for some months,

had periods of temporary aberration, and that all his delusions

have been of a sanguinary nature. Try to think calmly,” I said,

perceiving from her expression that I had not shaken her conviction

in the least. “Your father said he had been stabbed. You must see

that such a thing is physically impossible. Had all the doors and

windows been open, no object so large as a man could possibly have

entered or left the room without our observing him; but the windows

were closed and fastened, with the exception of the east window,

which, as you may see for yourself, is open some six inches or so,

in which position it is secured by the spring fastening. The folding

doors are locked on the inside and the only possible means of

entrance, therefore, would have been by the hall door. Directly in

front of that, between it and your father, sat Mr. Maitland and

myself. You see by my chair that I was less than two feet from the

door. It is inconceivable that, in that half-light, anyone could

have used that entrance and escaped observation. Do you not see

how untenable your idea is? Had your father been stabbed he would

have bled, but I am as certain as though I had made a thorough

examination that there is not so much as a scratch anywhere upon his

body.” Gwen heard me through in silence and then said wearily, in

a voice which had now neither intensity nor elasticity, “I understand

fully the apparent absurdity of my position, yet I know my father

was murdered. The wound which caused his death has escaped your

notice, but - “

 

“My dear Miss Darrow,” I interrupted, “there is no wound, you may

be sure of that!” For the first time since Darrow’s death Maitland

spoke. “If you will look at the throat a little more closely, you

will see what may be a wound,” he said, and went on quietly with his

examinations. He was right; there was a minute abrasion visible.

The girl’s quick observation had detected what had escaped me,

convinced as I was that there was nothing to be found by a scrutiny

however close.

 

Gwen now transferred her attention to Maitland, and asked: “Had not

one of us better go for an officer?” Maitland, whose power of

concentration is so remarkable as on some occasions to render him

utterly oblivious of his surroundings, did not notice the question

and Browne replied to it for him. “I should be only too happy to

fetch an officer for you, if you wish,” he said. Have you ever

noticed how acute the mind is for trifles and slight incongruities

when under the severe tension of such a shock as we had experienced?

Such attacks, threatening to invade and forever subjugate our

happiness, seem to have the effect of so completely manning the

ramparts of our intellect the nothing, however trivial, escapes

observation. Gwen’s father, her only near relative, lay cold before

her, - his death, from her standpoint, the most painful of mysteries,

- and yet the incongruity of Browne’s “only too happy ” did not

escape her, as was evident by the quick glance and sudden relaxation

of the mouth into the faintest semblance of a smile. All this was

momentary and, I doubt not, half unconscious. She replied gravely:

 

“I would indeed be obliged if you would do so.”

 

Maitland, who had now finished his examination, noticed that Browne

was about to depart. When the artist would have passed him on his

way to the hall door, he placed his hand upon that gentleman’s

shoulder, saying: “Pardon me, sir, but I would strongly urge that

you do not leave the room!”

 

Browne paused. Both men stood like excited animals at gaze.

CHAPTER III

Nothing is so full of possibilities as the seemingly impossible.

 

Maitland’s request that Browne should not leave the room seemed to

us all a veritable thunderbolt. It impressed me at the time as

being a thinly veneered command, and I remember fearing lest the

artist should be injudicious enough to disregard it. If he could

have seen his own face for the next few moments, he would have had

a lesson in expression which years of portrait work may fail to

teach him. At length the rapidly changing kaleidoscope of his mind

seemed to settle, to group its varied imaginings about a definite

idea, - the idea that he had been all but openly accused, in the

presence of Miss Darrow, of being instrumental in her father’s death.

For a moment, as he faced Maitland, whom he instinctively felt to be

a rival, he looked so dark and sinister that one could easily have

believed him capable of almost any crime.

 

Gwen was no less surprised than the rest of us at Maitland’s

interference, but she did not permit it to show in her voice as she

said quietly: “Mr. Browne has consented to go for an officer.” As

I felt sure she must have thought Maitland already knew this, as

anyone else must have heard what had passed, I looked upon her

remark as a polite way of saying:

 

“I am mistress here.”

 

Maitland apparently so regarded it, for he replied quickly: “I hope

you will not think me officious, or unmindful of your right to

dictate in a matter so peculiarly your own affair. My only desire

is to help you. Mr. Browne’s departure would still further

complicate a case already far to difficult of solution. My legal

training has given me some little experience in these matters, and

I only wish that you may have the benefit thereof. It is now nearly

three-quarters of an hour since your father’s death, and, I assure

you, time at this particular juncture may be of the utmost

importance. Not a moment should be wasted in needless discussion.

If you will consent to despatch a servant to the police station

I will, in due time, explain to you why I have taken the liberty of

being so insistent on this point.”

 

He had hardly ceased speaking before Gwen rang for a servant. She

hurriedly told him what had transpired and sent him to the nearest

police station. As this was but a few rods away and the messenger

was fleet of foot, an officer was soon upon the scene. “We were

able,” he said to us generally as he entered the room, “to catch

Medical Examiner Ferris by ‘phone at his home in F-Street, and

he will be here directly. In the meantime I have been sent along

merely to see that the body is not moved before his examination and

that everything in the room remains exactly as it was at the time

of the old gentleman’s death. Did I not understand,” he said to

Maitland in an undertone, “that there is a suspicion of foul play?”

 

“Yes,” replied George, “that is one explanation which certainly will

have to be considered.”

 

“I thought I heard the Cap’n say ‘murder’ when he ‘phoned in town

for some specials. They’re for detective work on this case, I reckon.

Hello! That sounds like the Doctor’s rig.”

 

A moment later the bell rang and Dr. Ferris entered the room.

 

“Ah, Doctor,” he said extending his hand to me, “what have we here?”

 

Before I could answer he had noticed Maitland and advanced to shake

hands with him.

 

“Is this indeed so serious as I have been told?” he asked, after

his greeting.

 

“It seems to me likely,” replied Maitland slowly, “to develop into

the darkest mystery I have ever known.”

 

“Hum!” replied the Examiner. “Has the body been moved or the

disposition of its members altered?”

 

“Not since I arrived,” replied Officer Barker.

 

“And before?” queried Dr. Ferris, turning to Maitland.

 

“Everything is absolutely intact. I have made a few notes and

measurements, but I have disturbed nothing,” replied Maitland.

 

“Good,” said the Examiner. “May I see those notes before I go?

You were on that Parker case and you have, you know, something of a

reputation for thoroughness. Perhaps you may have noted something

that would escape me.”

 

“The notes, Doctor, are at your service,” George replied.

 

Dr. Ferris’ examination of the body was very thorough, yet, since

it was made with the rapid precision which comes from extended

practice, it was soon over. Short as it was, however, it was still

an ordeal under which Gwen suffered keenly, to judge from her manner.

 

The Examiner then took Maitland aside, looked at his notes, and

conversed earnestly with him in an undertone for several minutes. I

do not know what passed between them. When he left, a few moments

later, Officer Barker accompanied him.

 

As soon as the door closed behind them Gwen turned to Maitland.

 

“Did he give you his opinion?” she asked with a degree of interest

which surprised me.

 

“He will report death as having resulted from causes at present

unknown,” rejoined Maitland.

 

Gwen seemed greatly relieved by this answer, though I confess I was

utterly at a loss to see why she should be.

 

Observing this change in her manner Maitland approached her, saying:

 

“Will you now permit me to explain my seeming rudeness in interfering

with your plan to make Mr. Browne your messenger, and at the same

time allow me to justify myself in the making of yet another request?”

 

Gwen bowed assent and he proceeded to state the following case as

coolly and accurately as if it were a problem in geometry.

 

“Mr. Darrow,” he began, “has just died under peculiar circumstances.

Three possible views of the case at once suggest themselves. First:

his death may have been due to natural causes and his last expressions

the result of an hallucination under which he was labouring. Second:

he may have committed suicide, as the result, perhaps, of a mania

which in that case would also serve to explain his last words and

acts; or, - you will pardon me, Miss Darrow, - these last appearances

may have been intentionally assumed with a view to deceiving us. The

officers you have summoned will not be slow in looking for motives

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