When we entered the Tombs that afternoon I noticed that several of the wardens smiled at McKelvie, as if his presence were a familiar one in that place of horrors. The matron too was very accommodating, more so than she had been to me, when McKelvie suggested that she stand out in the corridor when Ruth arrived. I noticed, however, that though she did as he asked and moved out of earshot, she remained where she could keep an eye upon our movements.
When I presented Graydon McKelvie to Ruth and explained his mission, she gave him such a sweet, pathetic smile and wished him success in so gentle a manner that he was won over to her cause on the spot.
"Mrs. Darwin," he said, with feeling, in that wonderful voice of his, "my best is the least I can offer you."
From that moment I had no misgivings as to the outcome of the affair. Let come what would, Graydon McKelvie would prove Ruth innocent, not because he believed, but because like myself he knew her to be innocent.
"Mrs. Darwin," McKelvie was saying gently, "in order to get at the bottom of this matter it will be necessary to ask you certain pertinent questions. I trust you won't be offended by anything I may say and also that you will answer me truthfully in every case."
"I will tell you anything you desire to know," she answered quietly.
"The coroner's inquest brought out a number of facts which do not, in my estimation, agree with one another. You say the study was in darkness when you entered, yet the lamp was lighted after the shot was fired. You are sure you did not light it yourself, unconsciously, perhaps?" he inquired in a brisk manner.
"I did not touch it," she answered with conviction. "I had just picked up the pistol and was standing beside the chair some distance from the table when the lamp apparently lighted itself."
"If someone had pulled the cord of the lamp would you have been able to see that person?" he persisted.
"Yes, for I turned toward the table the minute the light went on. There was no one there—except Phil—and myself," she said low.
"Point to investigate," he muttered, making a note in a small black book. "Memo: How was the light turned on?
"Now, Mrs. Darwin, please go back in your mind to the moment when you heard the shot. What part of the room did it appear to come from?" he continued.
"I—I'm afraid I couldn't say."
"Did it sound very close to you, or far away?" he prompted.
"Quite close. It was deafening," she said.
"Did it sound in front or behind you?" he continued, patiently.
"Behind, I think."
He nodded. "You say you trod on the pistol as you moved forward. You did not hear it fall near you, for instance?"
"No, when I heard the shot I involuntarily closed my eyes. It's a habit with me when anything startles me. When I opened them again I took a step and trod on something hard. I heard no sound at all."
"I see. You did not know the object was a pistol you said?"
"I did not know it. I merely felt something hard under my foot and in a dazed way I picked it up, without actually being conscious of what it was."
"One thing more. Supposing there had been someone behind you, could you have heard that person?"
"No. The carpet is very thick and absolutely deadens any footfall. Besides I do not see how anyone could have been back of me for I heard no one breathing."
"That doesn't follow. A person might have stood far enough away so that you would not notice the breathing, particularly if that person took pains that you shouldn't. And now we come to the breathing that you did hear. Where did it seem to come from?"
"It was right beside me, very, very close."
"Was it normal, hurried breathing, or was it labored?"
"Oh, horrible! A—a gasping sort of breath!"
"What advice did Mr. Cunningham give you at the inquest?" he asked, with a sudden change of subject.
"I don't understand what you mean, Mr. McKelvie," she answered, surprised.
"The coroner appointed him your counsel pro tem. and he left the room to consult with you. Did he not tell you what you should or should not say in answer to the coroner's questions?" he explained.
"Oh, no. He merely sent word by a policeman that I was to come down and that he considered it best that I tell frankly all that had happened that night. I did not see him until I came into the study and he first spoke to me, advising me to answer," she replied.
He made one or two more notes and then held out his hand. "Thank you, Mrs. Darwin. You have helped me materially. Good-by for the present."
"Good-by, Mr. McKelvie. Good-by, Carlton. See how quickly you can solve this mystery, won't you please? It's horrible there!" and she pointed toward the corridor.
"I will do my very best, Mrs. Darwin, but don't hope too soon, for the way is long and dark," returned McKelvie with deep sympathy.
When she had disappeared from sight around the bend of the corridor, he spoke again. "She's a brave little woman," he said, greatly moved. "God grant I'm not too late!"
I was silent, for Ruth's incarceration was the one subject I dared not permit myself to dwell on if I desired to retain my sanity, and in another moment McKelvie himself had changed the subject.
"By the way, I clean forgot to ask her a rather important question," he said, and he called to the warden, who brought Ruth back as far as the door of the reception-room. Somehow I could not bear to part from Ruth again and as there was no necessity for me to show myself, I remained where I could hear him without being seen.
"I'm sorry to disturb you again, Mrs. Darwin, but I forgot to ask you this question. Why did you deny knowing Cora Manning at the inquest?"
I was surprised, but Ruth said calmly, "I don't know her, Mr. McKelvie."
"But you know who she is," he returned, smiling.
"Will it help you?"
"Very much."
"She's Lee Darwin's fiancée. I have never met her, but one day he confided in me and showed me her picture. She is a very beautiful and noble girl, so please don't drag her into this inquiry, for whatever Phil's motives in leaving his money to her, I am sure that she is innocent of any knowledge of his actions," she pleaded.
"I won't bring her into it unless it's absolutely necessary," he replied.
"Are you a mind-reader?" I inquired as we walked slowly across the courtyard to the men's building and so out into the street.
"Not that I'm aware of," he replied seriously. "What makes you ask?"
"I'd have sworn that Ruth had never even heard of Cora Manning," I said.
"That's because you hear and see without observing," he explained. "I read what you heard: namely, that Coroner Graves, dissatisfied with Mrs. Darwin's first answer, asked her again if she knew Cora Manning. The inference was plain. She knew or knew of this girl and hesitated to say no or yes. By the time the coroner repeated his question she had made up her mind."
"That's so. Now that you mention it, I recall that she seemed disturbed by the question. And so she is Lee's fiancée, yet he denied all knowledge of her," I mused aloud. "Strange that everyone should have been so intent on shrouding her identity in mystery. What was their reason, do you suppose?" I asked suddenly.
McKelvie shrugged. "I do not know—yet. 'There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamed of in your philosophy, Horatio,'" he said lightly.
I opened my eyes wide at this apt quotation for I did not know him then as I do now and I pondered in silence upon the oddity of hearing a detective spout Shakespeare, until I remembered that Jenkins had said that McKelvie was not a detective in the ordinary sense of the word.
"Very kind of Jenkins," said McKelvie aloud. "By the way I phoned him to meet us at the Darwin house. I may need him in the course of the afternoon."
In view of his stipulation and fearing to lose him before he had begun work on the case, I murmured hastily, "That's quite all right," then I gasped and looked into his amused, slightly ironical eyes.
"Why, man, it's marvelous," I said.
"What is?" he asked coolly, although he knew exactly what I meant.
"Your reading of my thought," I replied. "Why you might almost be Sherlock Holmes himself."
"No. I lay no such flattering unction to my soul, if you will pardon the misquotation. Sherlock Holmes is in a class by himself. No one can touch him, but I have studied his methods and in this case it was not very difficult to guess what you were thinking when you eyed me so hard and murmured, 'Jenkins,' unconsciously, particularly when I know Jenkins so well."
We had been walking up Center Street as we talked, in total disregard of the fact that my car was parked in front of the Tombs, but now McKelvie paused abruptly and I saw that we were standing in front of Police Headquarters.
"I had intended going out to Riverside Drive at once, but I have changed my mind," McKelvie explained. "I want to look at the exhibits before I view the scene of the crime. The scent is decidedly cold. I must see what I can do to warm the trail."
"Do you think the police will let you see them?" I asked dubiously.
"We can do no more than ask. I have influence yonder," with a nod of the head toward the massive abode of the representatives of law and order. "Besides I would be a poor specimen indeed if I couldn't bamboozle Jones into giving me whatever I want."
"You know Jones, then?"
"We have crossed one another's paths occasionally. Why?"
"He's persuaded Ruth is guilty. He unearthed most of the evidence against her," I warned, "and he will guard it jealously."
"Not Jones. It's only natural that you should be prejudiced against him, of course. But really he's not a bad sort, and he's only doing his duty as he sees it."
"You are not small-minded at any rate," I answered smiling.
"Oh, well, I always believe in giving the devil his due," he returned with a mocking laugh as he ascended the steps.
We entered the building and at McKelvie's request Detective Jones was sent for. We awaited his arrival in silence, merely because McKelvie refused to talk, but he found his golden tongue readily enough when Jones came forward and blandly inquired what he could do for us.
The police detective was a shorter man than McKelvie, but heavier of build, with a pleasant enough face and fairly agreeable manners. He seemed to consider himself well enough acquainted with McKelvie magnanimously to overlook his eccentricities, and asked in a bantering way what he expected to get out of a case which had already been satisfactorily solved by the police.
McKelvie laughed good-humoredly, and answered in kind. "I was asked to investigate," he said, "and my aim, you know, is always to oblige."
"Whom? Yourself or your client?" inquired Jones shrewdly.
"My client, of course," McKelvie returned sententiously. "But, seriously, Jones, I did not come here to exchange witticisms, pleasant though it is to me to do so with such an opponent as yourself."
"What did you come for then, you blarneyer?" demanded Jones.
"I want a look at the exhibits. Come now, be a sport and show them to me."
"They will be of no use to you," answered Jones a trifle suspiciously. "They are all evidence against the accused."
"What's the objection then to showing them to me?" McKelvie responded. "I just want to satisfy my client that I have done everything possible to solve the case. I don't expect to learn anything from them."
Jones shrugged. "We have deduced all there is to learn and you are welcome to that," he said quietly.
"But not welcome to look at the articles themselves, is that it?" returned McKelvie, with a curl of the lip. Then he laughed outright.
"Say it. Go ahead. Don't spare me," remarked Jones with a grimace.
"I was wondering how soon it would be before you would be coming to me for advice, as you did in that last case of yours," McKelvie answered reflectively.
Jones flushed, then grinned. "You win," he said, and ushered us into his private office. From a cupboard in a corner of the room he produced the articles in question, and placed them on the flat-topped desk before us.
McKelvie picked up the pistol and examined it carefully. "Mrs. Darwin's finger-prints, I understand?"
"Yes."
"Anyone else's?"
"No."
"Dear, dear, that's too bad." McKelvie laid down the pistol and poked the bullet with his forefinger.
"Another theory gone up in smoke?" asked Jones, with a laugh.
"More or less. Sure the bullet fits the pistol?"
"As sure as human beings can be of anything in this world. We had the fellow from whom both pistol and bullets were purchased examine the weapon."
"So. You're sharper than I'd have given you credit for being."
"The police are not overlooking anything in this case," retorted Jones with some pomposity.
"Exhibit three—two handkerchiefs," muttered McKelvie. "Where did they come from?"
"The blood-stained one was in Mr. Darwin's hand. The other belongs to Mrs. Darwin. As you see, they are identical," explained Jones.
McKelvie sniffed at each one critically in turn, and then without any warning of his intention, passed the blood-stained handkerchief suddenly beneath my nose. Instinctively I drew back, inhaling involuntarily as I did so, and then I blinked and looked at McKelvie. But he was engrossed in reading the sheaf of bills and taking this as a sign that he did not wish his action remarked upon, I busied my brain in trying to recall the name of that delicate fragrance that for one fleeting second had assailed my nostrils when McKelvie brushed my face with the handkerchief. But try as I would I could not remember, and I decided to ask McKelvie the name of the perfume when we were once more alone. In the interest aroused by more pressing matters, however, I completely forgot the trifling episode.
By this time McKelvie had opened the cash box and was engaged in peering at the stoneless ring through his lens.
"Thank you, Jones," he said, replacing the ring beside the other objects. "But, hello, what's in this envelope?"
"Burnt scraps of the torn will. And look here, you have overlooked the will he was making," returned Jones, pushing forward a heavy sheet of paper.
"I noticed that," responded McKelvie indifferently. "May I look inside this envelope?"
"Surely. You will find that the most interesting scraps are the one with the name Darwin and the one with the partially burned letter R," explained Jones.
As in the case of the ring, McKelvie used his lens on the scraps, then he replaced them in the envelope.
"Thank you, Jones. Some day I hope to return the favor."
Jones, who had been highly amused by McKelvie's actions, waived aside the other's acknowledgment with a lordly air. "You are welcome to whatever you learned. Not much, was it?" he said.
"No, not much," replied McKelvie with a twinkle, adding as we passed out of earshot, "not much but quite enough, thank you, Mr. Jones."
"Then you did learn something of importance after all," I remarked as, seated once more in my car, we drove swiftly toward Broadway and headed uptown on our way to the Darwin home.
"Two things, one of which would have told me if I had not been positive before that Mrs. Darwin is innocent."
"Yes?" I prompted as he paused.
"There's entirely too much evidence against her. Why, man, it's overwhelming! One quarter of it would be sufficient to establish her guilt! Just go over it calmly. The quarrel, the change of will, the letter—any one of which would be ample motive. Her presence in the room when the shot was fired, your testimony that she held the weapon in her hand, the finger-prints on the pistol, the handkerchief, the closed room—It's much too much and thereby proclaims her innocence."
"And the second thing?" I asked.
He did not answer for he was employed in making what looked like a series of hieroglyphics on a page of his notebook. As I shifted closer to watch his occupation, between the traffic signals, he tore out the page and turning it over made four letters on it and handed it to me.
Keeping one hand on the wheel, I accepted the page with the other, and stole a quick glance at it. The letters he had made were capitals and were arranged in two sets. In the first group the L and the R were written with a flourish, so that the first stroke of the R resembled that of the L. In the second set the first stroke of the L was looped while that of the R was straight.
"Well?" I questioned, decidedly puzzled.
"I wish I knew whether Darwin made his capitals with a flourish," returned McKelvie. "The initial letter of the name on the scrap Jones so obligingly showed me had been burned away, leaving only the first stroke of the letter visible. If Darwin made his capitals like the first set on this sheet," tapping the paper I still held, "then the will might have been in favor of either the wife or the nephew and there is no way of proving which, except by taking Cunningham's statement as truth. If, on the other hand, Darwin made his capitals like the second set, then the will he destroyed was in favor of Lee Darwin, and Lawyer Cunningham was guilty of prevarication at the inquest. It makes a nice little problem to think about. I must find an answer to it as speedily as possible."
"Ruth would know Darwin's hand," I said eagerly.
"But the prison authorities aren't going to let us run in and out of the Tombs every time we happen to think of something we should like to know about," he replied dryly.
Piqued by the irony in his voice I remained silent, for I was not yet sufficiently accustomed to his manner to let his sarcasms pass unnoticed, and the remainder of the drive was accomplished in unbroken silence on both our parts.
The moment we drew up before the house, McKelvie sprang out and disappeared from view. I switched off the motor and clambered out to find Jenkins waiting for me. He nodded in the direction of the grounds and as I had no mind to hunt for McKelvie I was on the point of ascending the steps when he appeared suddenly from behind a clump of bushes.
"Just taking stock of the general atmosphere, as it were," he said, waving his hand in the direction of the grounds, which made me take a second look at my surroundings.
My first visit had not been conducive to leisurely inspection and I now saw that the house was exceedingly unusual, a replica of the relic of a bygone age, although by no means so very old itself. It had been modeled after a type of dwelling that is now obsolete, but which was much in vogue when the English held sway over the Island of Manhattan, and was a massive affair with the servants' wing tacked on at the back like an after-thought (which it probably was, since it looked newer than the original domicile), and connected with the main building by a narrow enclosed passageway.
The entire structure, including the garage in the rear, stood directly in the center of the vast grounds, and was completely screened from the view of the curious by the forest of trees that surrounded it. It was an odd house, and it is a great pity it is no longer standing, but in a way I can hardly blame the heirs for having had it torn down and a modern home built on the site, since it must forever have remained coupled in their minds with associations which we who were in any way connected with the events which took place in that house, were all of us endeavoring to forget.
"Only two things to be learned here," said McKelvie. "First, that it would be easy for anyone to enter or leave the grounds unnoticed on a dark night."
"And it was dark that night, beastly dark," I interrupted.
"And secondly, that there is more space occupied by the left side of the house than by the right."
He pointed to the building and I saw what he meant. The left side jutted out almost beyond the steps. The right side was cut off level with the topmost gradient and in line with the front door.
"What a curious way to build a house," I remarked. "What's the interpretation, McKelvie?"
His answer was to spring up the steps and ring the bell. He waited a few minutes, then hearing no sound rang again.
"It's no good," said McKelvie, with a shrug, after our third attempt to rouse the inmates. "They've probably deserted the ship. It's a habit with servants when things go wrong in a house. Jenkins, go around back and see if you can unearth the butler. He can be depended upon to have remained behind. Tell him that Mr. Davies wishes to enter the house."
As Jenkins disappeared, McKelvie continued: "Strange that Orton hasn't the gumption to find out what's wanted."
"He left the house for good after the inquest," I returned. "I doubt if there is anyone living here now."
"What about young Darwin?"
"Lee? The last I heard of him he had gone South."
"Lee Darwin gone South?" he repeated. "How do you know?"
"I forgot to mention it last night, but when I first called on you I also went to the Yale Club. They told me Lee had left for the South the previous afternoon. At the time I thought it queer that he should go so soon after the murder, without waiting to attend his uncle's funeral."
"It was odd. I'll have to start somebody on his trail at once. Did you know that he was here the night of the murder?"
"Here in the house?" I gasped.
"No. Outside the study window," he returned.
"But McKelvie," I answered, thinking to trip him, "that footprint was made by Lee Darwin in leaving the study."
"What footprint?" He stared at me in evident surprise.
"I understood you to mean that you had deduced Lee's presence from the footprint that Jones discovered," I returned abashed.
He laughed heartily. "My dear man, where are your reasoning powers? Footprints don't last forever and we have had a shower since the murder. Besides I'm not clairvoyant enough to guess by a look at the imprint whose shoe made it. No, I base my deduction on this."
He held up a stick-pin of a peculiar dull brown hue, made in the shape of the head of a bulldog. On the gold setting around the base of the head had been engraved the name, L. Darwin.
"Where did you find it?" I asked eagerly, as he slipped it into his wallet.
"Beneath the first two windows of the study the ivy has grown very thickly. I found the pin close to the wall and directly beneath the second window, entangled in the vine. The head is exactly the color of the ivy stem and it had remained unnoticed. I saw it because I was hoping to find proof of his presence there."
"But I do not see how you could possibly know he had been there," I objected.
"I've learned to read between the lines and I spent the night in thoroughly acquainting myself with the inquest. Besides, Mr. Davies, you have a very retentive mind and you told me more than you guessed last night. One of the things you emphasized was the fact that Lee Darwin had seemed to know that his uncle was dead when he saw the coroner, and that he had turned deathly pale when suddenly accused of being outside the study that fatal night. You ended by saying that although that point was cleared up to everyone's satisfaction you were still persuaded that the young man knew more than he gave out, and I agree with you there."
"But if he witnessed events, why doesn't he clear Ruth then?" I protested.
"I didn't say he saw anything. I merely said he was there," he retorted, and refused to discuss the point further, which was just as well perhaps, for Jenkins was holding the door open and there was much to be done if McKelvie was to clear Ruth before her trial.
As we entered I noticed Mason hovering in the background, and I nodded to him. "Mason, this gentleman is a detective who has come to solve the mystery of your master's death. I should be obliged if you would let him in whenever he comes here."
"Yes, sir, indeed I will, sir. Master was my master and I'm not saying anything against the dead, sir, but I'd like to see someone else swing for it, indeed I would, sir," he said in a troubled whisper.
"Thank you, Mason. That is all. If we need you we shall call you."
He moved slowly toward the servants' entrance and I turned to look for McKelvie. He had been examining the lock of the front door, and now he was employed in measuring the respective distances of the stairs and the drawing-room door from that of the study. As Mason disappeared, however, McKelvie looked up at me with a smile.
"Ready?" he inquired, and when I nodded he opened the door of the study with an eager air and the light of battle in his eyes.
I had expected to see him whip out a lens and begin a minute examination of the room. Instead he adjusted the chair in the position in which it had stood on the fatal night, and seating himself in, closed his eyes.
This procedure did not at all impress me as the right way to go about solving the crime, when every moment was precious. I was on the point of remonstrating with him when Jenkins enjoined silence upon me.
"He's thinking, sir," he said low.
Thinking! I was thoroughly disgusted. With my intimate knowledge of the case thinking for five consecutive days had brought me nowhere, yet here was this man whom I had engaged to find clues and investigate the murder thoroughly, sitting back in a chair thinking—goodness knows about what, since all the thinking in the world would not produce the tangible material evidence of which we stood in such dire need!
"Jenkins!" McKelvie sat up with a suddenness that startled me. "Open that safe."
As Jenkins knelt before the huge contraption and manipulated the dial with deft fingers, McKelvie turned to me with a quizzical smile.
"Don't become annoyed, Mr. Davies," he said quietly. "Each man his own method, you know. I was just trying to decide a certain small point and now that I have satisfied myself as to my correctness in the matter, I'll be as energetic as anyone could possibly wish."
I felt the blood surge into my cheeks, as I said a little stiffly, "I didn't mean to criticize——"
"No harm done," he interrupted lightly, rising and laying a hand on my arm for a moment. Then he addressed my man. "You're mighty slow for an adept, Jenkins."
"An adept! Jenkins!" I could hardly articulate the words.
"A former adept in the art of safe-cracking," answered McKelvie with a flourish. "But I trust you won't count that against him since he reformed some years ago."
"No, of course not," I murmured hastily, as Jenkins looked up at me with pleading in his somber eyes. "He's a very good servant, whatever else he may have been."
With a beaming smile Jenkins rose and opened the door of the safe.
"Now," said McKelvie, "I'm going to show you several curious, but rather interesting facts."
He turned to the lamp upon the table and gazed at it thoughtfully for a moment, then he snapped it on and off. "Did you notice anything odd about it?" he asked.
In imitation of his manner, I too gazed steadily at the lamp. I had paid no great attention to it before, being too overwrought to notice details, but now I saw, or thought I saw, what he meant.
In keeping with the style of the room, the lamp though small was made in the shape of a bacchante who wore on her hair a crown of leaves and about her bare shoulders a wreath of the grapevine, so exceedingly heavy that she held it away from her graceful body with her hands, from which depended a rather large cluster of magnificent grapes.
"It is very beautiful," I responded, "but odd for a lamp, and that bunch of grapes seems almost out of all proportion to the rest of the figure."
"True, but that is not what I referred to," he returned. "Look here!"
Again he pulled the cord which cleverly imitated a stray tendril clinging to the wreath, and a pleasant glow suffused the table, but much as I looked I could detect nothing amiss.
McKelvie smiled involuntarily at my anxious endeavor to discover the flaw. "Don't you see that the light comes from the right side of that cluster and not from the center?" he remarked. "Which means a double socket of course. Why then doesn't the other bulb light also?"
"There may be no bulb in the left-hand socket," I suggested. "Or it may be broken."
He nodded. "We'll soon settle that." He unscrewed the bunch of grapes and revealed the double socket, each part of which was provided with a bulb. He exchanged the bulbs and when he pulled the cord the same condition obtained. Only the bulb on the right lighted.
"It isn't broken, you see. Therefore, it must be lighted from some other source. I divined as much when Mrs. Darwin declared she hadn't touched it, and that if it had been lighted from the table she would have seen the person who pulled the cord. The only thing remaining is to find the switch that operates it."
Without a moment's hesitation he made for the safe and I followed him hastily. Now that I was in front of it I saw that the safe was nothing but a closet containing three shelves, which were built into the side walls at such a height that by stooping slightly a man could pass under them with ease. I glanced along the lowest shelf, although I knew that it was empty since Jones' entrance at the inquest, but McKelvie paid no attention to the bareness of the cupboard. He was engrossed in fingering the wall beyond the door. Then with a grunt of satisfaction he caught my hand and placed it where his had been. Instantly my fingers came in contact with a small button. I pushed it, and lo! the left bulb of the lamp sprang suddenly into being.
"Well, I'll be hanged!" I ejaculated, looking at McKelvie. "Why does any sane person want to light his lamp from his safe?" I asked.
"Because, Mr. Davies, it's no more a safe than I am—well—Jenkins," he returned impressively.
"Not a safe?" I exclaimed.
"No."
"Then what—?"
"I'm going to show you." McKelvie again fingered lightly the wall, but this time it was the wall which formed the back of the safe.
Presently with that same peculiar grunt he took out a pocket-flash and a knife. Opening the knife he pried the point into what looked by the aid of the flash like a harmless knot-hole just beneath the lowest shelf. (He was kneeling on the floor of the safe and Jenkins and I were stooping to watch him.) The next moment the knot-hole had swung aside, revealing to our astonished gaze a tiny key-hole!
The back of the safe was in reality a door!
Silently we watched as McKelvie fished out his keys and tried them in the lock but without success. Then he spoke to Jenkins. "Tell Mason to give you all of Mr. Darwin's keys, but don't let him come in here."
"Very well, sir."
When Jenkins returned with the keys McKelvie tried them in the lock, one after the other, but the door remained as securely locked as before.
"Strange," he said, looking annoyed. "You are sure you brought me all the keys?" he added abruptly.
"Yes, sir, even the ones he had in his pocket when he was shot, sir," responded Jenkins.
"Odd. I hate to break it open. It might be useful later on."
Jenkins, who had been peering intently at the key-hole over McKelvie's shoulder, spoke suddenly. "No need to smash it, sir. I still have my old tool kit and if I'm not mistaken I have a master key that will fit this lock."
"Off with you, then. Break all traffic laws if necessary. Only be back as soon as possible," cried McKelvie gayly, and I never saw the solemn Jenkins move so fast before.
While we awaited the man's return McKelvie came out of the safe and resumed his indolent pose. Again I found myself growing exasperated with his attitude. Surely there were clues to be found in the room, and he wasn't thinking because those brilliant black eyes were wide-open and wore an expression of contented ease.
"Since you object to my inactivity," he remarked quietly, "let's talk. At least we shall be exercising our tongues, if nothing more," and he laughed oddly.
I ceased trying to understand him and welcomed the opening that he gave me. "Will you answer me three questions?" I inquired.
"Depends on what they are," he returned laconically.
"Nothing really startling," I answered, laughing. "I merely wished to know why if Lee Darwin was outside that study window he did not leave footprints for the police to discover, as they did the ones that he made in the morning."
"Because there is a flower-bed under all the windows except the first two. Beneath those two the cement walk reaches to the wall. He stood on this walk that night, but in the morning having just come in the door he rushed out of the window nearest to him and stepped into the flower-bed."
"I see. Now here's question two. How did you know so unerringly that the lamp was also lighted from the safe?"
"Childishly simple. I had already deduced a secret entrance."
"How?" I broke in.
"Sherlock Holmes says, 'Exclude the impossible, whatever remains improbable must be the truth.' Mrs. Darwin didn't kill her husband or I should not be here. The case is one of murder, not suicide, therefore someone else must have been in the room at midnight. He couldn't leave by the windows or the door and flesh and blood doesn't vanish into air, ergo he must have gone out by some other entrance, natural inference a secret one, since it wasn't discovered."
I nodded. So far it was absurdly simple and clear. I was a trifle mortified that I had not divined it myself, but then such things were not in my line and the affair stuck too close to home to leave me any capacity for ratiocination.
"The question that had to be settled then," he continued, "was the situation of this entrance. I called your attention to the peculiar architecture of the house. When I entered the study I noticed that the safe occupied the wall in question. Jenkins opened it for me and I saw that it was the size of an ordinary closet and not very deep. What was more reasonable than to deduce that the remaining space between the back of the safe and the outer wall of the house was occupied by a passage of some kind!"
Again I nodded. "Of course. It was just a question of accounting for the extra square footage of house. But you haven't answered my original query."
"About the light? Mrs. Darwin said she didn't touch it, the dead man presumably couldn't, therefore the murderer must have done so. If he had pulled the cord Mrs. Darwin would have seen him, hence he lighted the lamp from some other source. Where? Not at the main switch near the door, for he had to vanish at once, knowing the shot would rouse the household. Besides, Mrs. Darwin would have heard the click when he pushed the button. The only place left was somewhere near the entrance. It was more likely to be inside than out, since, as before, Mrs. Darwin heard no sound. So I looked for it in the most plausible spot and found it."
I smiled. "You have answered my third question, which related to the secret entrance, but I have thought of two more to take its place. If the murderer used Darwin's pistol, how is it that only Ruth's finger-prints are on it?"
"He'd be too clever not to use gloves," returned McKelvie shortly.
"To be sure. But here's a harder one. How did the criminal, if he was behind Ruth, shoot Philip Darwin with such accuracy in the dark?"
"Exactly, that's just the point," he replied enigmatically.
When Jenkins arrived with the keys, McKelvie looked them over critically, selected a couple, and tried them on the door. The first was too large, but the second turned the trick. Cautioning us to stoop to avoid the shelves, McKelvie pushed open the back of the safe, which swung away from him into the darkness beyond. With the flash to guide him he stepped through the opening, then beckoned us to follow him. Though it was too dark to see, I knew I was in a room of some sort, for I felt the velvet softness of a carpet beneath my feet, and I also tripped over some article of furniture. By this time McKelvie had located the light and I saw that my room was really an alcove fitted up with a luxurious divan heaped high with pillows, beside which stood a small smoking-stand. But ornate and sumptuous as the alcove was I should not personally have cared for it, since the atmosphere was close and smoke-laden and there was no means of letting in the light of day.
McKelvie glanced hastily about and then striding to the divan he bent down and sniffed at it critically. Instantly I imitated him. To my amazement the same fragrance clung to the Persian cover of the couch that I had detected on the blood-stained handkerchief. I smelled it again to make sure and then as my memory still played me false I turned to ask McKelvie what it was. He was trying his key in the lock of a door at the rear of the room, and if he heard my question he failed to reply to it.
With less difficulty this time he unlocked this second door, which swung inwards and stood at the head of a flight of rather steep and dark stairs. As before, McKelvie preceded Jenkins and myself, but we kept as close as possible to him that his flash might guide us as well. At the bottom of the steps was another door of similar make, which also opened inwards, and to my astonishment it gave exit onto the garden at the side of the house between the first study window and the corner. So skillfully had it been cut in the masonry, however, that only one initiated into the secret of the entrance would have known it was there.
McKelvie examined the ground around the door and as at this point also the cement walk reached clear to the wall, I wondered what he hoped to discover. Whatever it was, his scrutiny satisfied him, for he stood up with a smile and applied his lens to the key-hole of the door. Then he nodded his head in a contented manner and remarked that we had better return to the study. I noticed that he locked all the doors scrupulously behind him, leaving the secret entrance exactly as he had found it, even to replacing the round disk which counterfeited the knot-hole.
Once in the room he knelt down and examined minutely the dial of the safe.
"Interesting and unique," he commented. "Look here, Mr. Davies!" He pointed to the inside of the door, and I noticed to my astonishment that the dial was duplicated within. "Do you get the significance?" he asked quickly.
"Why, that safe can be opened or closed by combination from the inside as well as the outside," I hazarded.
"Naturally, to be of any use as an entrance it would have to be capable of being opened from the inside," he said caustically. "No, what I meant was this. Supposing we want to lock the safe. Give me a combination."
"I gave him 'Darwin,' the first word that occurred to me, for it was one of those old style safes with the six-letter combination. He twirled the knob of the dial on the outside and pointed as he did so to the inside. Just as the inside handle of a door will revolve when the outer one is turned, so the inner knob of the dial duplicated the revolutions of the outer.
"Now, don't you see that in order to use this entrance it is necessary to know what combination was used to lock the safe from the study and vice versa?" he questioned.
"Yes, that's plain enough. To use the entrance the criminal had to know the combination. Well, what of it? A clever man would hardly be balked by so small a thing."
"You still don't get what I'm driving at," he returned. "I'll try to explain. You have arrived at the conclusion that I held a while ago; namely, that the criminal came in and went out by the secret entrance. Am I right?"
"Yes, that is my opinion."
"Now we come to my point," he said, rising and beginning to pace the room. "If the criminal entered by the safe, he must have been cognizant of three things: first, that there was such an entrance; secondly, that three of the doors were opened by a key of a certain size and make; thirdly, that the safe door was unlocked by a certain combination, that combination being the one which Philip Darwin himself had used. That the criminal should know of one, or perhaps of two of these facts, yes. But that he should be aware of all three of them seems incredible!"
"Why incredible?" I objected. "He may have known of the entrance. He could easily then take an impression of the outer lock and have a key made, and Philip Darwin himself may have revealed the combination to him."
"Very good, but not carried quite far enough," he said with his quizzical smile. "Before I show you where you are at fault, answer me a question. How do you suppose that entrance came to be there so very handy for the criminal's purpose?"
"I presume it was built with the house," I answered.
"Precisely. When?"
"Almost a hundred years ago—1830, to be exact."
"Exactly, and old Elias Darwin, the great-grandfather of Philip, who was a firm believer in the established order of affairs, modeled his home in the country (for this stretch of land was country then) on that which was built by his ancestors in pre-revolutionary days, secret entrance and all; for, of course, in those times secret entrances were indispensable for the concealment of friends, whether Tories or Whigs."
"Where did you learn all this?" I asked in amazement.
"I have a book home which details the histories of various mansions in New York," he replied.
"That accounts for the entrance. But what about the safe?" I continued.
"The safe is decidedly more recent. Doubtless the secret entrance had been blocked up, if it was ever cut through, and no one knew of its existence until Philip Darwin stumbled on the knowledge. I looked up the family history of the Darwins this morning while I was awaiting your arrival. Who's Who describes Mr. Frank Darwin, the father, as having been a strait-laced, Puritanical man, and you yourself know what the son was. Can't you imagine the clash between them?"
In view of Mr. Trenton's story concerning Dick's mother I could well believe that father and son had not agreed.
"In 1906 there is record that Frank Darwin went to Europe for a year. Of course, this is mere conjecture, but it is reasonable to suppose that Philip, who was then twenty-one, took the occasion to have the safe built, and the secret entrance unblocked."
"Mason should know," I said.
"I don't think so, or he would have mentioned it at the inquest. However, there is no harm in questioning him. Go and get him, Jenkins."
When Mason stood before us McKelvie said quietly, though his eyes sparkled: "You testified that you had been with the Darwin family thirty years. Did you remain in the house when Mr. Frank Darwin went to Europe in 1906?"
"Yes, sir. I remained as caretaker."
"Then you can tell us when that safe was built?"
"Yes, sir. It was that same year, sir. Mr. Phil complained he had no private safe and his father told him to have one built while he was gone. He chose that place, sir, because he liked the study. His father used the den upstairs."
"Why did he build such a large safe?"
"I don't know, sir. He sent me away to visit some of my folks, sir, while it was being built. He told his father it was to hold his fortune, sir."
McKelvie looked across at me with a triumphant expression which said as plainly as words, "Notice how accurately I deduced the truth," but his voice was subdued enough as he continued his questions.
"He did not get along with his father, I understand?"
"No, sir. They had different ideas on every subject, sir."
"Why didn't Philip Darwin live at his club then, when he came of age?" McKelvie inquired.
"Because his father told him, sir, that if he left the house it would be for good, and not one penny of his money would he get, sir. Mr. Phil knew that his father always carried out his threats, sir."
"That is all, Mason."
"Yes, sir."
The moment the door closed behind the old butler McKelvie said, with a smile, "Just as I thought. And what came in handy when his father was alive was doubly useful after his marriage. And thus we come back to the original discussion, whether the criminal would know the three necessary facts to enter by the safe."
"A member of the family might," I said.
"Yes, a member of the family. Lee, for instance, or even Orton might discover that there was such a passage and secure a key to it. Would either of them know the combination?"
"Orton was Darwin's private secretary."
"As far as his business down-town went, but not his secretary, as far as his personal affairs were concerned. Besides, recall Mason's testimony. He was surprised to find Orton in the study because Darwin always kept it religiously locked, to preserve his secret, of course. Then, too, Orton was Darwin's creature and, therefore, he would be doubly careful not to place himself in the fellow's power. He evidently considered he was running no risk, since he let Orton into the study that night. Besides, if you did not want anyone prying into your safe, what precaution would you take to prevent it?"
"I'd change the combination frequently."
"Exactly; and there you have an answer to my problem. Granted that the criminal knew the first two facts, was he going to depend on a combination that might be changed five minutes before he wished to use the entrance? No, no, we're dealing with a person too clever not to foresee that contingency. Besides, as far as I could detect, no one has recently taken an impression of the outer lock."
"Then we get back where we started and the entrance is of no value to us at all," I pointed out.
"You jump back too far. It merely shows that the criminal did not enter by the safe. That he left that way is proved by the fact that he vanished from the study without using door or windows, and that he very evidently took Darwin's key with him."
"But—the combination?"
"The safe was open, for Darwin had just removed the will from it. Even if it had been closed, a clever man could find an excuse for making his victim open the safe. Once inside any combination of six letters would close the door effectually against intruders."
"I suppose you are right, but how did he get in then?"
"Darwin let him in himself, either through the window or the door. Most probably through the window, since you would have otherwise heard steps in the hall. Recall Orton's testimony. He went to the garage to follow the maid. When he returned he heard voices in the study."
"And when he went in at eleven-thirty, Philip Darwin was alone," I remarked with a smile.
"Yes, to be sure, Philip Darwin was alone," he repeated, crestfallen.
Before I could retort the front door-bell rang sharply. Turning quickly McKelvie walked to the safe and silently locked it. Then he spoke to Jenkins with his usual assured manner. "Tell Mason to answer the bell. And I sha'n't need you again to-day."
"Very well, sir."
As Jenkins opened the door and went out McKelvie dropped into a chair beside me.
"I wonder who that can be," he murmured, "but whoever it may be, not one sign, not one word of what we have learned."
I nodded comprehendingly, and in the pause that ensued I heard Mason shuffle to the door and fumble with the lock. Then a man's voice inquired for me. I heard an answering murmur and rose, turning toward the open study door just as Mr. Cunningham crossed the threshold.
"Mr. Davies," he said, with a smile, extending his hand. He had recovered his voice since the inquest and spoke in a rich baritone.
I gave him my hand, but not over-cordially as I said, suspiciously, "How did you know I was here?"
He laughed, not at all put out. "I called at your apartments to give you some information, and Mr. Trenton kindly told me where I could find you. He also explained your mission. A very laudable purpose. Mr. McKelvie, I presume?" turning toward my companion.
"I beg your pardon," I said stiffly, for I was ashamed of my unjust suspicion, which had its inception in the fact that he was the dead man's lawyer, and as such prejudiced against Ruth, and introduced the two men.
McKelvie, who had also risen at the lawyer's entrance, and who was standing with his hands behind his back, affected not to see Cunningham's extended hand and merely nodded. Annoyed at his incivility, and seeing that Cunningham frowned angrily, I hastened to make the peace.
"Mr. McKelvie put me out of his house when I first called on him," I remarked to Cunningham with a laugh. "You may consider yourself highly honored to have received a bow."
The frown melted from Cunningham's brow as he said, pleasantly enough, "I understand. The idiosyncrasies of the great must be indulgently overlooked," and he returned McKelvie's nod with a ceremonious bow.
"You have some information to impart?" broke in McKelvie briskly as we seated ourselves.
"Yes. I have discovered something that I thought might help toward freeing Mrs. Darwin. You remember," turning to me, "that I testified that Philip Darwin had removed his securities from my office. I learned yesterday that he had used them as I thought upon the market. There was a slump in the stock he was operating the afternoon of the seventh of this month and as far as I can make out he was completely ruined."
"Ruined!" I repeated, for I could recall no rumor to that effect on the Street that day. "You are sure?"
"Positive. He was completely, absolutely ruined," returned the lawyer. He looked at me thoughtfully a moment and then added, "You were wondering why, being a broker yourself, you had not heard of it? The explanation is simple. The world has believed Philip Darwin immensely wealthy for so many years that the truth concerning his financial affairs would have been a decided shock to his friends and associates. Naturally, though he lost heavily on the market on the seventh, no one suspected that he was wiped out, and so nothing was thought of the occurrence, for he had lost as heavily before without its making any appreciable difference to him."
"I understand. And, of course he knew that he was ruined?" I continued.
"He must have known it."
"Then why was he troubling himself to make a new will?" I said, perplexed.
Cunningham shook his head. "I never pretended to understand him. But I thought my information might help along this line. If he had no money Mrs. Darwin certainly didn't murder him to inherit his fortune."
"She may not have known that he was beggared," I retorted.
"Humph! If she swore she did know that fact, who could contradict her?" and he smiled blandly.
"Are you a criminal lawyer, Mr. Cunningham?" queried McKelvie suddenly. He had arisen again when Cunningham began to talk and had been pacing the room in apparent indifference to our conversation.
"No, I am not," answered the lawyer promptly, just a little surprised.
"What an infinite pity! You would make a great success in that line I am sure," responded McKelvie, and in his flexible voice I again detected traces of irony.
Cunningham looked at McKelvie undecided whether to take the remark as an insult or a compliment, and I saw McKelvie's lip curl just a trifle before he continued suavely, "I meant it, Mr. Cunningham. You would make a great criminal lawyer. I advise you to try your hand at that branch of the profession."
Cunningham laughed. "Thanks, but I'm too old a dog to learn new tricks. Besides, I am planning to take a little vacation presently. I expect to travel for the next few years, but I do not mean to intrude my own uninteresting affairs upon you. You have no time to waste in this case. Have you discovered anything of value so far?" he continued with friendly interest.
McKelvie shook his head and sighed. "I am afraid so far it is a losing game," he said with an air of great candor. "The trouble is, as I explained to Mr. Davies, that the scent is cold. The clues are in the hands of the police. Ah, if only I could have been here from the first!"
"It is a pity. They say you are a great detective. I should hate to see you defeated," answered the lawyer, giving McKelvie a Roland for his Oliver.
McKelvie laughed—a short, hard laugh.
"Don't fool yourself, Mr. Cunningham. I am not going to be defeated," he said tersely. "No, not even if the criminal is the cleverest fellow living."
"Pride goeth before destruction, Mr. McKelvie. By this time the criminal has doubtless betaken himself to other parts," returned the lawyer, sardonically.
"The world is small, and I am going to get him if it takes me the rest of my life." McKelvie's jaw snapped with grim determination.
The lawyer rose. "I must be going. Good-by, Mr. Davies. Farewell, Mr. McKelvie. Long life to you, sir."
"Damn his impudence," said McKelvie as the front door slammed, "but he's right. I have no time to waste. I'll call you up in the morning if I have news, and in the meantime say nothing to anyone of our discoveries."
"Not even Mr. Trenton?"
"Not even Mr. Trenton. I'm trusting no one but you and—Jenkins. Also, I do not want that meddlesome old lawyer hanging around when I want to work. Good-by."
"Just a moment. How does what Cunningham told us affect the case as it now stands?"
"Not a hair's breadth. I told you before there was more than enough evidence against her. And I'm hanged if I don't believe he knew it, too!"