XI
FORESTALLED
On the train Kennedy left me, to look through the other cars, havingthe idea that Phelps might be aboard also. But there were no signs ofthe banker. We would reach Tarrytown first unless he had chosen tomotor out.
Mackay was waiting at the station to meet us and to take us to thehouse. The little district attorney was obviously excited.
"Was the place guarded well last night?" asked Kennedy, almost beforewe had shaken hands.
"Yes--that is, I thought it was. That's what I want to tell you. Afteryou left with Manton and Werner the rest of the company packed up andpulled out in the two studio cars. I was a little in doubt what to doabout Phelps, but he settled it himself by announcing that he was goingto town. The coroner came and issued the permit to remove the body andthat was taken away. I think the house and the presence of the deadgirl and all the rest of it got on Phelps's nerves, because he wasirritable and impatient, unwilling to wait for his own car, untilfinally I drove him to the station myself."
"Was anyone, any of those on our list of possible suspects at least,alone in the room--or in the house?"
"Not while I was there," Mackay replied. "I took good care of that.Then, when everyone was gone and while Phelps was waiting for me, Idetailed two of my deputies to stay on guard--one inside and oneoutside--for the night. I thought it sufficient precaution, since youhad made your preliminary examination."
"And--" Kennedy nodded, seeking to hurry the explanation.
"And yet," added Mackay, "some one entered the house last night inspite of us."
Kennedy fairly swore under his breath. He seemed to blame himself forsome omission in his investigation the previous afternoon.
"How did it happen?" I asked, rather excitedly.
"It was about three o'clock, the guards tell me. The man inside wasdozing in a chair before the living-room fireplace. He was placed so hecould command a view of the doorway to the library as well as thestairs and reception hall. All at once he was awakened by a shot and acry from outside. He jumped up and ran toward the library. As he did sothe portieres bellied in toward him, as if in stiff sudden draught, oras if some one had darted into their folds quickly, then out. With nohesitation he drew his own weapon, rushing the curtains. There was noone secreted about them. Then, with the revolver in one hand, heswitched on the lights. The room was empty. But one pair of Frenchwindows at the farther end were wide open and it was that which hadcaused the current of air. He ran over and found the lock had beenforced. It was not even an artistic job of jimmying."
"What about the deputy posted outside?" prompted Kennedy.
"That's the strange part of it. He was alert enough, but it's a bighouse to watch. He swears that the first thing he knew of any troublewas the sharp metallic click which he realized later was the sound madeby the intruder in forcing the catch of the French window. It waspretty loud out in the quiet of a Tarrytown night.
"He started around from the rear and then the next thing he caught wasthe outline of a shadowy slinking figure as a man dropped out of thelibrary. He called. The intruder broke into a run, darting across theopen space of lawn and crashing through the shrubbery without anyfurther effort at concealment. My man called again and began to chasethe stranger, finally firing and missing. In the shrubbery a sharpbranch whipped him under the chin just as he obtained a clear view ofthe outlined figure of his quarry and as he raised his weapon to shootagain. The revolver was knocked from his hand and he was thrown back,falling to the ground and momentarily stunned. Whoever broke into thelibrary got away, of course."
"What did the intruder look like?" There was an eagerness in Kennedy'smanner. I grasped that the case was beginning to clarify itself in hismind.
Mackay shook his head. "There was no moon, you know, and everythinghappened swiftly.
"But was he tall or short or slender or stout--the deputy must have gotsome vague idea of him at least."
"It was one of my amateur deputies," Mackay admitted, reluctantly. "Hethought the man was hatless, but couldn't even be sure of that."
"Were there footprints, or fingerprints--"
"No, Mr. Kennedy, we're out of luck again. When he jumped out he fellto his hands and knees in a garden bed. The foot marks were ruinedbecause his feet slid and simply made two irregular gashes. The marksof his hands indicated to me, anyhow, that he wore heavy gloves, rubberprobably."
"Any disturbance in the library?"
"Not that I could notice. That's why I phoned you at once. I'm hopingyou'll discover something."
"Well--" Kennedy sighed. "It was a wonderful opportunity to get to thebottom of this."
"I haven't told you all yet, Mr. Kennedy," Mackay went on. "There was asecond man, and--"
"A second man?" Kennedy straightened, distinctly surprised. "I wouldswear this whole thing was a one-man job."
"They weren't together," the district attorney explained. "That's why Ididn't mention them both at once. But my deputy says that when he wasthrown by the lash of the branch he was unable to move for a fewseconds, on account of the nerve shock I suppose, and that while he wasmotionless, squatted in a sort of sitting position with hands bracedbehind him, just as he fell, he was aware of a second strangerconcealed in the shrubbery.
"The second fellow was watching the first, without the question of adoubt. While the deputy slowly rose to his feet this other chap startedto follow the man who had broken into the house. But at that momentthere was the sudden sound of a self-starter in a car, then the purr ofa motor and the clatter of gears. Number one spun off in the darknessof the road as pretty as you please. Number two grunted, in plaindisgust.
"By this time my deputy had his wind. His revolver was gone, but hejumped the second stranger with little enough hesitation and theybattled royally for several minutes in the dark. Unfortunately, it wasan unequal match. The intruder apparently was a stocky man, built withthe strength of a battleship. He got away also, without leavinganything behind him to serve for identification."
"You have no more description than of the first man?"
"Unfortunately not. Medium height, a little inclined to be stocky,strong as a longshoreman--that's all."
"Are you sure your deputy isn't romancing?"
"Positively! He's the son of one of our best families here, a sportsmanand an athlete. I knew he loved a lark, or a chance for adventure, andso I impressed him and a companion as deputies when I met them on thestreet on my way up to Phelps's house just after the tragedy."
Kennedy lapsed into thought. Who could the self-constituted watcherhave been? Who was interested in this case other than the properauthorities? Apparently some one knew more than Mackay, more thanKennedy. Whoever it was had made no effort to communicate with any ofus. This was a new angle to the mystery, a mystery which became deeperas we progressed.
At the house Kennedy first made a careful tour of the exterior, butfound nothing. Mackay had doubled his guards and had sent Phelps'sservants away so that there could be no interference.
Once inside, I noticed that Kennedy seemed indisposed to make anotherminute search of the library. He went over the frame of the Frenchwindow with his lens carefully, for fingerprints. Finding nothing, hewent back directly to the portieres.
For several moments he stood regarding them in thought. Then he began amost painstaking inspection of the cloth with the pocket glass,beginning at the library side.
I remembered that first scene in the manuscript which Kennedy hadinsisted I read. I recalled the suspicion which had flashed to mebefore the message from Mackay had disturbed both Kennedy's thoughtsand mine. Stella Lamar had thrust her bare arm through this curtain. Aneedle, cleverly concealed in the folds, might easily have inflictedthe fatal scratch. It was for a trace of the poison point that Kennedysearched. Of that I was sure, knowing his methods.
I glanced up and down the heavy hanging silk, looking for the glint offine sharp steel as Kennedy had done before starting his inspectionwith the glass. The color of the silk, a
beautiful heavy velour, was astrange dark tint very close to the grained black-brown of thewoodwork. Both the thickness of the material and its dull shade madethe portieres serve ideally for the purpose assumed now both by Kennedyand myself. A tiny needle might remain secreted within their folds fordays. Nothing, certainly, caught my naked eye.
At last a little exclamation from Kennedy showed us that he haddiscovered something. I moved closer, as did Mackay.
"It's lucky none of us toyed with these curtains yesterday," heremarked, with a slight smile of gratification. "There might have beenmore than one lying where Stella Lamar lies at the present moment."
With wholesome respect neither Mackay nor myself touched the silk asKennedy pointed. There were two small holes, almost microscopic, in theclose-woven material. About the one there was the slightestdiscoloration. Not a fraction of an inch away I saw two infinitesimalspots of a dark brownish-red tinge.
"What does it mean?" I asked, although I could guess.
"The dark spots are blood, the discoloration the poison from theneedle."
"And the needle?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "That's where our very scientific culprithas forestalled me, Walter! The needle was in these curtains all dayyesterday. Unfortunately, I did not study the manuscript, did notattach any importance to Miss Lamar's scene at the portieres."
"The man who broke in last night--"
"Removed the needle, but"--almost amused--"not the traces of it. Yousee, Walter, after all, the scientific detective cannot be forestalledeven by the most scientific criminal. There is nothing in the worldwhich does not leave its unmistakable mark behind, provided you canread it. The hole in the cloth serves me quite as well as the needleitself."
Very suddenly a voice from behind us interrupted.
"Find something?"
I turned, startled, to see Emery Phelps. There was a distinct eagernessin the banker's expression.
"Yes!" Kennedy faced him, undisturbed, apparently not surprised. Hisscrutiny of Phelps's face was frank and searching. "Yes," he repeated,"bit by bit the guilty man is revealing himself to us."