CHAPTER XIX
A DISCOVERY
The men from Wyoming stepped into the elevator and Kirby pressed thebutton numbered 3. At the third floor they got out and turned to theright. With the Yale key his cousin had given him Kirby opened thedoor of Apartment 12.
He knew that there was not an inch of space in the rooms that thepolice and the newspaper reporters had not raked as with a fine-toothcomb for clues. The desk had been ransacked, the books and magazinesshaken, the rugs taken up. There was no chance that he would discoveranything new unless it might be by deduction.
Wild Rose had reported to him the result of her canvass of the tenants.One or two of them she had missed, but she had managed to see all therest. Nothing of importance had developed from these talks. Some didnot care to say anything. Others wanted to gossip a whole afternoonaway, but knew no more than what the newspapers had told them. Thesingle fact that stood out from her inquiries was that those who livedin the three apartments nearest to Number 12 had all been out of thehouse on the evening of the twenty-third. The man who rented the roomsnext those of Cunningham had left for Chicago on the twenty-second andhad not yet returned to Denver.
Cole took in the easy-chairs, the draperies, and the soft rugs with anappreciative eye. "The old boy believed in solid comfort. Youwouldn't think to look at this that he'd spent years on a bronc's backbuckin' blizzards. Some luxury, I'll say! Looks like one o' thempalaces of the vamp ladies the movies show."
Kirby wasted no time in searching the apartment for evidence. Whatinterested him was its entrances and its exits, its relation toadjoining rooms and buildings. He had reason to believe that, betweennine o'clock and half-past ten on the night of the twenty-third, notless than eight persons in addition to Cunningham had been in theapartment. How had they all managed to get in and out without beingseen by each other?
Lane talked aloud, partly to clear his own thought and partly to putthe situation before his friend.
"O' course I don't _know_ every one of the eight was here. I'mguessin' from facts I do know, makin' inferences, as you might say. Tobegin with, I was among those present. So was Rose. We don't need toguess any about that."
Cole, still almost incredulous at the mention of Rose as a suspect,opened his lips to speak and closed them again with no word uttered.He was one of those loyal souls who can trust without asking forexplanations.
"The lady of the violet perfume an' her escort were here," Kirby wenton. "At least she was--most prob'ly he was, too. It's a cinch theHulls were in the rooms. They were scared stiff when I saw 'em alittle later. They lied on the witness stand so as to clear themselvesan' get me into trouble in their place. Olson backs up the evidence.He good as told me he'd seen Hull in my uncle's rooms. If he did hemust 'a' been present himself. Then there's the Jap Horikawa. He'dbeat it before the police went to his room to arrest him at daybreakthe mornin' after the murder. How did he know my uncle had beenkilled? It's not likely any one told him between half-past ten an'half-past five the next mo'nin'. No, sir. He knew it because his eyeshad told him so."
"I'll say he did," agreed Sanborn.
"Good enough. That makes eight of us that came an' went. We don'tneed to figure on Rose an' me. I came by the door an' went by the fireescape. She walked upstairs an' down, too. The violet lady an' theman with her took the stairs down. We know that. But how about Hullan' Olson an' the Jap? Here's another point. Say it was 9.50 whenRose got here. My uncle didn't reach his rooms before nine o'clock.He changed his shoes, put on a smokin'-jacket, an' lit a cigar. He hadit half smoked before he was tied to the chair. That cuts down to lessthan three quarters of an hour the time in which he was chloroformed,tied up to the chair, an' shot, an' in which at least six people paid avisit here, one of the six stayin' long enough to go through his deskan' look over a whole lot o' papers. Some o' these people were sureenough treadin' close on each other's heels an' I reckon some weremakin' quick getaways."
"Looks reasonable," Cole admitted.
"I'll bet I wasn't the only man in a hurry that night an' not the onlyone trapped here. The window of the den was open when I came. Don'tyou reckon some one else beat it by the fire escape?"'
"Might've."
They passed into the small room where James Cunningham had met hisdeath. Broad daylight though it was, Kirby felt for an instant atightening at his heart. In imagination he saw again the gargoyle grinon the dead face upturned to his. With an effort he pushed from himthe grewsome memory.
The chair in which the murdered man had been found was gone. Thedistrict attorney had taken it for an exhibit at the trial of the manupon whom evidence should fasten. The littered papers had been sortedand most of them removed, probably by James Cunningham, Junior.Otherwise the room remained the same.
The air was close. Kirby stepped to the window and threw it up. Helooked out at the fire escape and at the wall of the rooming-houseacross the alley. Denver is still young. It offers the incongruitiesof the West. The Paradox Apartments had been remodeled and were modernand up to date. Adjoining it was the Wyndham Hotel, a survival ofearlier days which could not long escape the march of progress.
Lane and his friend stepped out to the platform of the fire escape.Below them was the narrow alleyway, directly in front the iron frame ofthe Wyndham fire escape.
A discovery flashed across Kirby's brain and startled him. "See here,Cole. If a man was standin' on that platform over there, an' if myuncle had been facin' him in a chair, sittin' in front of the window,he could 'a' rested his hand on that railin' to take aim an' made adead-center shot."
Cole thought it out. "Yes, he could, if yore uncle had been facin' thewindow. But the chair wasn't turned that way, you told me."
"Not when I saw it. But some one might 'a' moved the chair afterward."
The champion of the world grinned. "Seems to me, old man, you'retravelin' a wide trail this trip. If some one tied up the old man an'chloroformed him an' left him here convenient, then moved him back tothe wall after he'd been shot, then some one on the fire escape could'a' done it. What's the need of all them _ifs_? Since some one in theroom had to be in the thing, we can figure he fired the shot, too,whilst he was doin' the rest. Besides, yore uncle's face waspowder-marked, showin' he was shot from right close."
"Yes, that's so," agreed Lane, surrendering his brilliant ideareluctantly. A moment, and his face brightened. "Look, Cole! Thecorridor of that hotel runs back from the fire escape. If a fellow hadbeen standin' there he could 'a' seen into the room if the blind wasn'tdown."
"Sure enough," agreed Sanborn. "If the murderer had give him an inviteto a grand-stand seat. But prob'ly he didn't."
"No, but it was hot that night. A man roomin' at the Wyndham mightcome out to get a breath of air, say, an' if he had he might 'a' seensomethin'."
"Some more of them _ifs_, son. What are you drivin' at, anyhow?"
"Olson. Maybe it was from there he saw what he did."
Sanborn's face lost its whimsical derision. His blue eyes narrowed inconcentration of thought. "That's good guessin', Kirby. It may be'way off; then again it may be absolutely correct. Let's find out ifOlson stayed at the Wyndham whilst he was in Denver. He'd be more aptto hang out nearer the depot."
"Unless he chose the Wyndham to be near my uncle."
"Mebbeso. But if he did it wasn't because he meant the old man anygood. Prove to me that the Swede stayed there an' I'll say he's asliable as Hull to be guilty. He could 'a' throwed a rope round thatstone curlycue stickin' out up there above us, swung acrost to the fireescape here, an' walked right in on Cunningham."
Lane's quick glance swept the abutment above and the distance betweenthe buildings.
"You're shoutin', Cole. He could 'a' done just that. Or he might havebeen waitin' in the room for my uncle when he came home."
"Yes. More likely that was the way of it'--if we're on a hot traila-tall."
"We'll check up on that first. Cha
nces are ten to one we're barkin' upthe wrong tree. Right away we'll have a look at the Wyndham register."
They did. The Wyndham was a rooming-house rather than a hotel, but thelandlady kept a register for her guests. She brought it out into thehall from her room for the Wyoming men to look at.
There, under date of the twenty-first, they found the name they werelooking for. Oscar Olson had put up at the Wyndham. He had stayedthree nights, checking out on the twenty-fourth.
The friends walked into the street and back toward the Paradox withouta word. As they stepped into the elevator again. Lane looked at hisfriend and smiled.
"I've a notion Mr. Olson had a right interestin' trip to Denver," hesaid quietly.
"I'll say he had," answered Sanborn. "An' that ain't but half of iteither. He's mighty apt to have another interestin' one here one o'these days."