Christopher Quarles: College Professor and Master Detective

  CHAPTER XIV

  THE CASE OF THE MURDERED FINANCIER

  The division of the thousand-pound reward made the three of usinclined for frivolity and pleasure. I happened to have little to do,so we made several excursions and visited many theaters. Relaxation isgood, but one may have too much of it; certainly it was not the besttraining for the next case I was called upon to investigate.

  I remember a man of many convictions once telling me that he ratherenjoyed picking oakum, a proof that one may become used to anything.In the course of my career I have become accustomed to ghastly sights,yet when I entered that room in Hampstead a feeling of nausea seizedme which had something of fear in it. Without attempting any closeobservation, I went out and sent a line to Christopher Quarles, askinghim to come to me at once.

  It was chiefly my desire for companionship in my investigations whichmade me do so, I think; still, it may be that subconsciously Irealized that this was a case for the professor. The force ofcontrast, too, may have had something to do with my attitude. Twonights ago, the professor, Zena, and I had been to the opera, mainlyto see a Hungarian dancer who had recently caused a sensation. She wasa very beautiful woman, and her dancing, which was illustrative ofabstract ideas, was impressive, if bizarre. Quarles had pointed out aman in a box who seemed literally absorbed in the performance, andsaid he was a wealthy German named Seligmann, who was financiallyinterested in the opera season.

  This morning Seligmann was dead, lying limply in a deep arm-chair inthe study of his home in Hampstead. Owing to some misunderstanding Ihad arrived before the doctor who had been sent for, and, as I havesaid, the sight nauseated me. Downward, through his neck, a stilettohad been driven, a death-dealing blow delivered from behind,apparently, but besides this his face and throat were torn as thoughsome great bird had attacked him with powerful talons. The descriptionis inadequate, perhaps, but it was too terrible a sight to enlargeupon.

  Quarles and the doctor arrived at the same time, and the three of usentered the room together. After looking at the dead man for a fewmoments, Quarles stood apart while the doctor made his examination,but I noticed that his eyes were particularly alive behind his roundgoggles.

  The doctor was puzzled.

  "The stiletto killed him," he said, slowly, looking at me, "but theseother wounds--the sudden explosion of some vessel might have causedthem, but there are no fragments. It almost looks as if the flesh hadbeen torn by a rake. He has been dead some hours."

  "Yesterday was Sunday," I replied, "and this room was not opened."

  "That accounts for the time," he said. "The work of a madman, perhaps.Murder, undoubtedly."

  When the doctor had gone, after he had superintended the removal ofthe dead man to a small room off the hall, Quarles moved to thewriting-table.

  "Glad you sent for me, Wigan. What has the wife to say? He wasmarried, I suppose? There is a feminine note about the house."

  "Mrs. Seligmann is away," I answered, "and as yet I have onlyinterviewed the man who found his master. He was inclined to behysterical. Two women-servants had a day off yesterday, and are notexpected back until this morning."

  "Dead many hours," said Quarles; "was probably lying here yesterday,and we saw him on Saturday. I don't think he left the house before thefall of the curtain."

  "No, I think not."

  "He couldn't have got here before midnight, then," said Quarles. "Thathelps us to the time of the murder. It would be a late hour for avisitor, and I see no card lying about."

  "My dear professor, visitors of this sort do not leave their cards."

  "Look at this pen on the blotting-pad, Wigan; it might have been justput down--put down, not dropped from paralyzed fingers, nor from ahand raised in self-defense. It was used, probably, to make thesemeaningless lines and curves upon the pad. A man engaged in a seriousconversation might draw them as he talked. That chair there was pushedback by the doctor, but it was close to the table, just where avisitor would sit to talk to a man seated at the table. Now mark, thedead man is found in an arm-chair removed from the table, yet hiscigar was put carefully into the ash tray, half smoked, you see, andthe ash not knocked off. Oh, yes, Mr. Seligmann had a visitor of whomhe had no fear, and who might reasonably have left a card."

  "He would be careful not to leave it lying about after the murder," Isaid.

  "It wasn't a man, I fancy, but a woman. Had it been a man, the glasseson the tray yonder would probably have been used. Besides, ifcriminals were always as careful as you suggest, there are fewdetectives who would be able to hunt them down. The very essence ofyour profession is looking for mistakes."

  Quarles turned to examine the French window.

  "The window was found closed," I said, "but there is littlesignificance in that. If pulled to from the outside it fastens itself.

  "And cannot be opened from the outside, I observe," said Quarles. "Howabout the garden door, yonder?"

  The house was a corner one. There was a small square of garden, and inthe high wall was a door, an exit into a side road.

  "It was locked," I answered.

  "So, unless the retreating person had a key, he would have to climbthe wall," the professor remarked. "That would require some agility."

  "The person who committed so savage a murder would be likely to havesufficient strength for that," I said.

  "Quite so," Quarles returned thoughtfully, crossing to aleather-covered sofa and looking at it carefully.

  "Shall we interview the servants?" he said, after a pause.

  The man who had found his master that morning was calmer now, and toldus a coherent story. Mr. Seligmann had arrived home just beforemidnight on Saturday. They had expected him earlier in the evening. Ashe entered the study, he said he was returning to Maidenhead as soonas he had looked through his letters. He had a cottage on the river,where he and Mrs. Seligmann had been for the past two or three weeks,and the master had paid these flying visits to Hampstead more thanonce. The man had gone to bed after taking in the tray with theglasses. It was his custom to put two or three glasses on the tray.There was no one with Mr. Seligmann. The study had not been opened onSunday. When he entered it this morning his master was dead in thechair, and the man had immediately sent for the police. He had alsotelegraphed to Mrs. Seligmann.

  "Was it usual not to open the room when Mr. Seligmann was away?" Iasked.

  "On Sundays, yes. Other days it would be opened."

  "It wasn't necessary for you to sit up until your master had gone?"

  "No. He constantly left his motor in the side road and went outthrough the garden. He had a key of the door."

  "Was the electric light on in the hall on Sunday morning?"

  "No; but I didn't switch it off on Saturday. I left it because two ofthe servants were finishing some work in the kitchen--hat trimming.They were having the Sunday off. They ought to be back directly."

  "You supposed the motor was waiting in the side road ready to takeyour master to Maidenhead," said Quarles. "Would it be in charge of achauffeur?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "When your master left by the garden was it not thought advisable tosee that the study window was securely fastened? I see there areshutters."

  "Yes, but I have never seen them closed. The master often sat up lateafter we had all gone to bed, and he never shut them. I suppose heconsidered the high garden wall sufficient protection."

  "Did anyone come to see your master that night?"

  "No."

  In this particular the man was wrong. When, a few minutes later, thetwo women servants returned, one of them--the housemaid--said she hadanswered a ring at the bell after the man servant had gone to bed. Itwas a young lady. She gave no name, but said that Mr. Seligmann wasexpecting her. This was true, for the master had had her shown in atonce.

  "He told me not to wait. He would show her out himself."

  "What was the lady like?" I asked.

  "Rather tall and well dressed. She wore a veil, so I could not see herface very clearly."


  "Was she alone?" asked Quarles.

  "Yes."

  "Quite alone?" the professor insisted. "She didn't turn to speak toanyone as she entered the house?"

  "No."

  "Did you switch off the light in the hall?"

  "I may have done. I do not remember."

  "So late a visitor surprised you, of course?"

  "Only because the master was to be in the house so short a time. Hehas a great deal to do with professional people, so we often get latevisitors--after the theaters are over. The mistress----"

  She stopped. There was the soft purring of a motor at the front door,and a moment later the sharp ring of a bell.

  "That is the mistress," she said.

  The door was opened, and a woman came in swiftly, young, beautiful,and, even in her agitated movements, full of grace.

  "Tell me! Tell me!" she said, turning toward Quarles and myself, as ifa man's strength were necessary to her just then. Quarles told herwith a gentleness which I had not often seen in him.

  "I must see him," she said.

  We tried to dissuade her, but she insisted, so we went with her. Thedead man lay on a sofa, a handkerchief over his face. His wife liftedthe covering herself and for a moment stood motionless. Then sheswayed and would have fallen had I not caught her. My touch seemed tostrengthen her, and, with a low cry, she rushed out of the room.

  From the moment she had entered the house I had been trying toremember where I had seen her before. Perhaps it was some involuntarymovement as she left the room which made me remember. She was thefamous Hungarian dancer we had seen on Saturday at the opera.

  "Did you know she was Seligmann's wife, professor?"

  "No," he answered, almost as if his ignorance annoyed him.

  "I'm going back to Chelsea. He had a visitor, you see, Wigan, and awoman. There is nothing more to say at present. I dare say you will beable to see Mrs. Seligmann presently; ask her two things: Did sheexpect her husband to join her at Maidenhead in the small hours ofSunday morning? Does she know of any woman, a singer possibly, who hasbeen worrying her husband to get her an engagement?"

  The importance of finding the woman who had visited Seligmann wasobvious, but it seemed impossible that a woman could haveaccomplished so savage a murder. Seligmann was a powerful man andwould not prove an easy victim. Evidently the professor did notbelieve her solely responsible by the precise way in which he hadasked the housemaid whether the woman was alone.

  In the afternoon I saw Mrs. Seligmann for a few moments. She told methat she and her husband had come to town together on Saturday. He hadarranged to go to Hampstead after the opera, not to keep anyparticular appointment as far as she knew, and she had expected him tocome on to Maidenhead afterward. She had gone back there after theopera. People constantly asked him to help them, but she could notconceive who her husband's visitor that night was.

  In answer to my question how her husband intended to get toMaidenhead, she said by taxi. He often did so after sending her off inthe motor.

  When I left her I visited the nearest cab rank, and had confirmationof her statement. A driver told me he had taken Mr. Seligmann toMaidenhead once or twice. Seligmann would stop and tell him if he wereon the rank at a certain time there would be a good job for him. Hehas also been to the house to call for him sometimes. On Saturday hehad not seen him, nor could I find any other driver who had. Ofcourse, he might have engaged a taxi elsewhere, but, as it was not hishabit to do so, the presumption was that he had not intended to go toMaidenhead that night.

  Quarles had talked about criminals' mistakes, but I did not expect amurderer to be so careless as to hire a cab in the immediateneighborhood. I found, however, that three drivers had been engaged bysolitary women that night. The description of the first woman did notcorrespond with the housemaid's, the second was not late enough to beSeligmann's visitor, but the third seemed worth attention. She hadbeen driven to Chelsea, to a block of flats called River Mansions,and, interviewing the hall-porter later in the afternoon, I found thata Miss Wickham, who shared a flat there with a lady named Ross, hadcome home early on Sunday morning. She might be a singer, but the manthought she was an actress.

  "Is she in now?" I asked.

  "No; both ladies went away on Sunday morning. They often go eitherSaturday or Sunday, and come back some time on Monday. You might findthem later in the evening. There's nothing wrong, is there?" he added,as though the respectability of the Mansions was a matter of concernto him.

  "Why should you think so?"

  "I'm old-fashioned, I suppose, and I expect to hear queer things abouttheatrical folk; besides, there's a friend of Miss Wickham's been herethree times to-day, and he seemed worried at not finding her."

  "Oh, you mean Mr. Rowton," I said, and the porter fell into the trap.

  "No, I don't know him. This was Mr. Marsh--the Honorable PercivalMarsh."

  "He's been, has he?" I said, keeping up the deception to allay theman's suspicions. "I must try and see him."

  "He lives in Jermyn Street, you know."

  "Yes; I shall go there."

  But I did not go to Jermyn Street at once; I went to see Quarles.

  "I'm perplexed, Wigan," said the professor before I could utter aword. "I've seen a man with a stiletto driven into his neck, yet, assoon as I begin to think of the murderer, something seems to tell meit wasn't murder."

  I smiled at his foolishness and told him what I had done.

  "What time to-day did this Mr. Marsh first go to River Mansions?"Quarles asked when I had finished.

  "The porter didn't say."

  "They're not expensive flats, are they?"

  "No."

  "You've got on the trail cleverly, but you haven't proved it murderyet," he said. "The first question Zena asked me was whether I wascertain the stiletto wasn't a hatpin."

  "There might be a pair, and so it would be a clew," explained Zena.

  "It was too much of a weapon for a hatpin," I said.

  "Exactly my answer," said Quarles, "and Zena went and fetched thatthing lying on the writing-table. That came from Norway and is ahatpin, though you might not think it."

  It was indeed a fearsome looking weapon, and a deadly stroke might bedealt with it.

  "I'm perplexed, Wigan," the professor went on. "I'm a man in a woodand can't find my way out. That is literal rather than a figure ofspeech. In my endeavor to get out and look for a murderer I seem tokeep on hurting myself against the trunks and branches of trees, andout of the darkness about me wild animals seem to roar with laughterat my idea of murder. What do you make of it?"

  "You have been reading some ancient mythology, dear," said Zena, "andI expect the great god Pan has got on your nerves. Didn't a solemnvoice from the Ionian Sea proclaim him to be dead? Perhaps he isn't."

  Quarles looked at her and nodded.

  "Come out of the wood, professor," I said, "and we'll go and interviewMarsh in Jermyn Street."

  Knowing him as I did, I had no doubt that he had formed a theory, and,until he had found whether there were any facts to support it, waspleased to play the fool. I was rather angry, but showing annoyanceserved no useful purpose with him. He was keen enough when we foundPercival Marsh at home.

  There are scores like Percival Marsh in London; no great harm in them,certainly no great good; chiefly idlers, always spendthrifts, who mayend by settling down into decent citizens or may go completely to thedevil. It was quite evident he took us for duns when we entered, butthere was no mistaking his concern when I told him we had come to talkabout Miss Wickham.

  "I called upon her this afternoon," I said. "She was not at home. Youwill not be surprised, since I hear you have been there several timesto-day."

  "Why did you call upon her?"

  "To ask why she went to see Mr. Seligmann, of Hampstead, on Saturdaynight."

  "Did she go there?"

  "Your manner tells me that you know she did, and your anxiety abouther to-day convinces me that you have seen some account o
f theHampstead tragedy."

  "I do not know that she went there, but she knew Seligmann. I thinkthat accounts for my anxiety."

  "And for some reason you think it within the bounds of possibilitythat Miss Wickham may have attacked him. I may tell you that I do notbelieve she is responsible for the murder."

  He did not answer.

  Quarles, who had been gazing round the room, apparently uninterestedin the conversation, turned suddenly.

  "Evidently you don't agree with my friend, Mr. Marsh. You are notquite sure that Miss Wickham is innocent. It is a painful subject. MayI ask if you are engaged to Miss Wickham?"

  "Really, you----"

  "I quite understand," said Quarles. "I am man of the world enough tounderstand the desirability of keeping such things secret. Familyreasons. Her position and yours are so different. It would be awkwardif such an engagement were to mean the stoppage of supplies. The headof the family has to be thought of. Peers do not always go to thestage for their wives."

  "Sir, you overstep the limits of our short acquaintance," said Marshwith some dignity.

  "Let me tell you, sir, that you treat the affair far too cavalierly.It looks as if Mr. Seligmann had been killed by a man rather than by awoman. You couldn't have read of the murder till this afternoon, yetyou went to River Mansions this morning."

  "What are you attempting to suggest?" Marsh asked, his face pale,either with fear or anger.

  "I suggest that you know why Miss Wickham went to Mr. Seligmann andthat it was upon some matter which concerned yourself."

  "Do you know Seligmann?" Marsh asked.

  "I know a great deal about him."

  "Then you know that he was a different man, according to his company.You may only have seen the decent side of him, but he was ablood-sucker of the worst description."

  "So he had you in his money-lending hands, had he?"

  "He had. Morally, I had paid my debt, but a legal quibble kept me inhis power, and he refused to give up certain papers of mine."

  "Which you had no right to part with, I presume," said Quarles.

  "Miss Wickham said she had some influence with Seligmann," Marsh wenton, taking no notice of the professor's remark, "and said she wouldtry and get the papers back."

  "What price was she to pay for them?"

  "Price!"

  "You didn't expect Seligmann to give them up for nothing?"

  "He wanted her to go on tour, I believe, instead of bringing her outin town, as he had half promised to do."

  "It was natural perhaps that your future wife should be willing tomake a sacrifice for your sake."

  "It was hardly a sacrifice. She is not good enough for the Londonstage. Besides, I am not engaged to her. Friendship is----"

  "I warrant she considers herself engaged to you."

  "I cannot help that."

  "Of course not," said the professor, "but you were glad enough to getthe papers. May I look at the envelope they came in?"

  "I destroyed it," Marsh replied to my utter astonishment.

  "That is a pity. If Miss Wickham says she did not get those papers,it will be awkward for you. Could you swear the writing on theenvelope was hers?"

  "They could have come from no one else."

  "And you think she murdered Seligmann to get them?"

  "I am not to be trapped into admitting anything of the sort."

  "As you will, Mr. Marsh. For my part, I expect this affair will openMiss Wickham's eyes to your--your true worth."

  And Quarles took up his hat and walked out of the room. I followedhim. In the street he took off his glasses and put them in his pocket.They were the same he had worn that morning--a pair he did not oftenuse.

  "The Honorable Percival Marsh is a worm," he remarked.

  "Now for Miss Wickham," said I.

  "There is no necessity to see her," said Quarles. "I dare say it istrue what this worm says. She went to offer her talent cheap toSeligmann on condition that he would give her the papers. I can guesswhat happened. They talked over the bargain, but Seligmann refused todo what she wanted, and was able, probably, to show her that Marsh wasa worthless scoundrel. Unless something of this sort had happened shewould have written to Marsh to tell him she had been unsuccessful. Ihave little doubt Seligmann treated her in a fatherly manner, and thenlet her out through the garden, perhaps because he found the light inthe hall was out. He returned to find--I am not sure yet what it washe found in his study, but nothing to alarm him, I am sure. To-morrowwe will go to Maidenhead, Wigan, and see what servants are at thecottage."

  At noon next day we were in Maidenhead.

  There was a yard and coach house somewhat removed from the house, anda chauffeur was cleaning a car. In the corner of the yard lay a largedog of the boar-hound type, but I have never seen one quite like itbefore.

  "Is that dog savage?" Quarles asked.

  "He doesn't like strangers, as a rule," said the man, "but he's ill."

  "Foreign breed of dog, eh?" said Quarles, entering the yard.

  "Came from Russia."

  The professor looked puzzled. It was evident that something interferedwith his theory.

  "Sorry to disturb you," he went on, "but we've come to ask a fewquestions about the awful circumstances of your master's death."

  "You're right, it is awful," said the man. "The mistress will go mad,that's what she'll do. I shouldn't have been surprised if she'dchucked herself out of the car as we came down this morning."

  "She has returned to the cottage, then? I suppose it was you who droveher up yesterday?"

  "Yes, and on Saturday I drove them both up as far as Colnbrook, andthen something went wrong with the car. They had to go on by train."

  "How did she arrive home on Sunday morning, then?"

  "In a taxi."

  "And what did she do on Sunday?"

  "Had out the punt and went up to Boulter's, where she would be certainto meet a lot of friends. I dare say you know the mistress is a famousdancer. That kind of people are a bit unconventional."

  "Do you happen to know the Honorable Percival Marsh?" asked Quarles.

  "Yes. He's been here, but not lately. The mistress lunches with him intown sometimes. She seems to think more of him than I do. There'snothing in it. I've heard her laugh at him with the master."

  "Is that the only dog about the place?" said Quarles.

  "Yes. He's a pet; usually goes up to the opera with the mistress. Hewent on Saturday, and came back like that on Sunday. He snapped at herin a frightened way when she came in here in the morning and got ahiding for it. I was afraid he'd go for her."

  Quarles gave a short exclamation underneath his breath, and then hesaid in rather an agitated way: "Well go in and see Mrs. Seligmann,Wigan." And as we left the yard he went on: "You must make the servantshow us in to her mistress without announcing us. We must take Mrs.Seligmann unawares."

  The servant proved difficult to persuade, and I had to explain who Iwas before she yielded. Mrs. Seligmann sprang from the sofa as weentered. She looked wild, almost mad, as the chauffeur had said, butshe recognized us and forced herself to welcome us.

  "What are you here for?" she said, and I started. There was thesuggestion of a snarl in her voice.

  "We believe your husband was murdered by Percival Marsh," said Quarlesquietly.

  "It's a lie!" she shrieked.

  "How comes it, then, that he has those papers which were in yourhusband's possession?"

  In a moment she had hurled herself upon the professor, and had snappedat the hand which he threw out to protect himself. Her strength wasawful, and all the time we were struggling with her she fought withher nails and teeth, and growled like an infuriated animal. Herclothes were partly torn from her in the struggle, and--but it was tooghastly to enlarge upon. She was an animal in the form of a beautifulwoman. The house was quickly roused, and we had to have thechauffeur's help before we could bind her securely. Then I telephonedto Maidenhead for the police.

  "I thought a dog had helped,
Wigan; that was my theory," said Quarlesas we went back to town. "I noted that a dog had trodden on thepolished skirting near the study sofa. Miss Wickham might have had adog, that is why I questioned the housemaid so closely to make sureshe entered the house quite alone. When we were brought in contactwith Marsh I suspected Mrs. Seligmann. Those glasses I wear sometimesare curious, acting like opera-glasses, and they enabled me to see aportrait of Mrs. Seligmann standing back on a corner table, and,moreover, that it was signed. Marsh evidently knew her well; was inlove with her, perhaps, and she with him. My saying that he had firstbeen to River Mansions in the morning was guesswork, but by his notdenying it, the fact was established that the papers must have comeinto his possession, or why should he have gone there? He must haveknown that Miss Wickham usually went away on Saturday or Sunday anddid not return till late on Monday. I argued that Mrs. Seligmann mighthave sent them, and that Marsh suspected this, hence his visit to MissWickham to make certain. It may be true that he did not know she wasgoing to Seligmann on Saturday night, and if he heard from the porterthat she had left town on Saturday afternoon he would know that thepapers could not have come from her. He would hear from the porterthat she had returned in the small hours of Sunday morning, and when,later in the day, he read of the murder he would not know what tothink. It is also possible, Wigan, that Seligmann expected his wife tocall for him that night. That their motor had broken down on the wayup to town makes it even probable. I went to Maidenhead to see if Mrs.Seligmann had a dog, a savage brute who would attack at her command,savage but small. The great brute in the yard did not fit my theory.God knows I didn't suspect the real truth. Strange that I should havefelt that I was in a forest, stranger still that Zena should speak ofPan. I don't explain, Wigan, I can't, but it has happened--a return ofthe human to wild and awful atavism. She meant to kill, to rid herselfof the man who was in her way. The human in her used the stiletto orhatpin, the animal in her used claws. She will be called mad, and soshe is in one sense, but not in another; nor was it murder in the truesense of the word. The wild wolf does not murder; he kills because hemust. Even the dog recognized an enemy of whom he was afraid. Thebeast was not ill, but cowed, and snapped at her as you heard thechauffeur say. Had she had her way with me to-day, I should havelooked like poor Seligmann."

  Arriving in town I found that Miss Wickham had communicated with thepolice and had given an account of her visit to Hampstead, whichclosely corresponded with Quarles's idea. She had gone at that hourbecause she was anxious on Marsh's account, and it was the only timeSeligmann could see her unless she waited another week. He was verykind, and had told her that Marsh was a scoundrel. He was attemptingto make love to his wife, he declared, who laughed at him, and wasquite in agreement with her husband when he said he would presentlypunish him by using the papers he held. He was expecting his wife tocall for him that night in a taxi. She came, and killed him.

  I am thankful to say that a fortnight after her arrest Mrs. Seligmanndied.