Quintus Oakes: A Detective Story

  _CHAPTER XIV_

  _Clues_

  The carpenters and masons came and went in a very business-like way allthat morning, while we were closeted upstairs with our companion andChief Hallen.

  After he left us, Moore and I walked down to the gate and around thegrounds, leaving Oakes to attend to details with Martin. Carpenters werevery busy around the dining-room, carrying in boards and implements, andexamining the woodwork and the balcony.

  A few of the masons were about the grounds, engaged on small details,and all seemed to be on good terms with Cook and his wife, and Annie.Mike was busy at one end of the garden, and Maloney was not far off.

  "This, Stone, is to be a day of events here. But things are being donevery quietly, are they not? You would suspect nothing out of theway--far less a hunt for a murderer or the investigation of a mystery,would you?"

  "No; were I not informed, I should think that Oakes had merely a gang oflaborers at work."

  "He has that; but he has also a body of the best detectives, for thepurpose, to be had. Maloney and Mike are puzzling him considerably,Stone; they are very close to one another always, and seem quiteintimate."

  "Yes," I replied. "I have noticed it. They both show a great deal ofinterest in these alterations. Have you noticed how Maloney is watchingO'Brien? He keeps him continually in sight."

  We had approached the front door of the Mansion as we spoke. Oakes wasstanding just outside, his eyes likewise upon the two gardeners. Ourlast remarks were made in his presence, and he entered the conversationwith a quiet observation to the effect that Maloney seemed to fear thatMike might not attend to his business, but that Mike _would_,nevertheless.

  I was obliged to acknowledge that I did not quite understand.

  "Oh, Mike is a good laborer," he explained; "he needs no such watching,"and there seemed to be a peculiar significance in his words. They werestated in a slow, indifferent manner that caused me to look at thespeaker, but his face wore the inscrutable expression which I hadfrequently seen before, and I learned nothing. I knew him well enough bythis time, however, to realize that something was taking shape in histhoughts.

  "Now, let us go inside," said he. "After lunch we will attack the finalsolution of the manner in which these mysterious assaults wereperformed. Like all such things, it will be simple enough, I know, andthe point remaining to determine will be not _how_ it was done, but _bywhom_.

  "I feel confident that that door in the cellar room leads upward to aninterspace which communicates with the dining-room through panels in thewalls. The peculiar noise--the swish--that I heard, resembled the suddensliding of a board, and it was the conviction that the person whoassaulted Moore disappeared into the wall which made me run downstairs.I felt sure there would be some explanation of it below."

  That afternoon a systematic search of the entire house was made. Thecellar room in which the assault upon Oakes had occurred was thoroughlylighted and examined. The heap of rubbish which Mike had beeninvestigating at our previous visit proved to be composed of plaster andbricks.

  The wall in which the door was cut was found to be about three feetthick, and one of the foundations of the house. It was solid, save for achimney-like opening which had been trapped with the door. Above, at thelevel of the dining-room floor, the great wall ceased. From one edge wascontinued upwards the original partition between that room and thenext--the parlor; but it was thin, and had evidently been recentlystrengthened by another wall, slightly thicker, and built from theopposite edge of the foundation, leaving a space between the two. Intothis space entered, at a certain point, the opening from the cellar roombelow.

  It was a peculiar arrangement. As Oakes remarked, the new wall had beenmade with no regard to the economizing of space; for, had it been builtimmediately back of the old, considerable room would have been savedfor the parlor. One of the "carpenters" thought that the original ideahad been to utilize the space for closets. The only other possible usefor it, so far as we could discover, was the one which Oakes hadsurmised--ventilation for the cellar. Still, to our ordinary minds, achimney would have answered that purpose quite as well.

  A little further investigation, however, showed the top of thefoundation wall to be covered with cement well smoothed, and the wallsthemselves were plastered. It was generally conceded, therefore, thatthe first idea had been to use it as closet room, which could easilyhave been done by cutting doors through the walls. As Oakes said, thenotion had evidently met with opposition and been abandoned, socommunication had been made with the cellar instead, and the roof openedto afford ventilation.

  The opening into the cellar was large. A man could easily enter it, and,standing, reach the top of the foundation wall; then, by a littleexertion, he could raise himself into the intermural space. Oakes, Mooreand I proved this by actual experiment and found that the passage wasquite wide enough to accommodate a man of average proportions.

  I have said that the dining-room was finished in oak panels. These hadbeen reached from our side of the wall by removing the bricks andmortar--the same stuff evidently which helped to form the rubbish heapin the room below. One of the larger panels had been made to slidevertically. It had been neatly done and had escaped detection from thedining-room because of the overlapping of the other panels. Some debrisstill remained between the walls.

  "The fellow we are after knew of the space between the walls and workedat the panel after the repairs were completed," was Oakes's remark.

  "How do you know that?" asked Moore.

  Oakes looked at him and smiled, then said: "Moore, where is yourreasoning ability? Do you think, if the panel had been tampered with atthe time the repairs were made, that the debris would have been leftbehind? No! It would have been removed with the rest of the dirt."

  We had gone to our rooms upstairs while the men were hunting throughthe tunnel to the well. They found nothing; everything was as we hadleft it after our adventures there.

  It seemed to us that, all things considered, the work on the panel musthave been done by someone within the household, or, at least, that someof its members must have been involved in the matter.

  "It may have been accomplished at night, however, and by an outsider,"said Oakes. "The servants' quarters are separate from the house. Anyonemight easily have entered the cellar by the tunnel route. Still, theremay have been collusion also."

  "It seems a nonsensical idea to leave the debris in the cellar," I said.

  "No, I think not," was the answer. "The care-takers are afraid even toenter that place. The miscreant knew that detection would be probable atthe hands of strangers only."

  That evening Elliott and Martin left for New York. They were to bringthe negro boy, Joe, to Mona. Late at night, before we retired, Oakesasked us to go with him into the parlor.

  "What for?" said I.

  "To forge another link in the chain--the strongest yet," he said.

  "What?"

  "Do you remember the cartridge I found in the cellar?"

  "Yes, yes; but you did not pay much attention to it, I thought."

  He looked gravely at me. "Stone, that cartridge probably corresponds incalibre to the one which was used in the murder of Mark."

  "Ah!" said Moore. "I had a notion of that myself. Why did you not tellus your opinion before?"

  "Because, when I found it, we were working on the Mansion affair only. Idivined the value of the find; but why should I have mentioned it? I wasnot hunting the Mark murderer then."

  "Quintus, you consummate fox--you worked Hallen well!"

  "Not at all; business is business. What is the use of gossiping? Thereare no ladies to be entertained in _my_ profession, Doctor."

  He led the way to the parlor--we meekly following--to where a clusterof arms hung upon the wall: one of those ornaments of crossed swords,guns and a shield, so common in old houses.

  He remarked that he had noticed these arms on his previous visit. Helooked at a revolver hanging across the shield, with a pouch beneath it,and then sudd
enly, in surprise, said: "Last time I was here, a few weeksago, there was a large old-fashioned revolver here of 44 or 45 calibre.I remember it well, being interested in firearms.

  "This one now here is of a similar pattern and appearance, but ofsmaller calibre, and newer. Look! The cartridges in this pouch are ofabout 45 size; they belong to the old weapon and cannot be used withthis one."

  "Again, some of them are missing; there were at least a dozen before,now there are only three or four. The old revolver and some cartridgeshave been taken away, and a newer weapon substituted."

  "Indeed! But why?" said Moore sceptically.

  "Partly because"--and Oakes was decisive, curt, master of thesituation--"because this one cannot be loaded. See!" He then tried toturn the chamber and showed us that the mechanism was faulty.

  "The old revolver," said he in a low tone, "and some cartridges weretaken away, and in order that its absence should be less noticeable,this one was left here--it being useless.

  "Now, boys, the cartridge I found downstairs on the cellar floor is a45-calibre and belongs to those of the pouch and the original revolver,as you see."

  He took it from his pocket and showed us that it did _not_ fit theweapon in his hand but matched the cartridges in the pouch. It belongedto the _old_ weapon.

  "We are closing in," said I.

  "Yes--the man of the robe has the old revolver and cartridges; he tookthem within the last few days, finding his own weapon out of order. Itis he who is responsible for the mystery in this house--and in allprobability it is he who shot Winthrop Mark. You remember, the evidenceat the inquest showed that a heavy revolver had been used--a 44 or 45calibre--exactly such an one as the old weapon which I saw here."

  "Excellent, Oakes," remarked Moore. "There's only one objection."

  "Yes, I know," said Oakes. "You were going to ask why the fellow did nottake all these cartridges and put his own in the pouch to match theweapon he left here."

  "Exactly," said Moore.

  "Well," said the detective, "he either had no cartridges of his ownhandy, or else, like all criminals, however smart, he tripped--the brainof no man is capable of adjusting his actions precisely in everydetail."

  "Guess you're right. No man can be perfect in his reasoning, and, nomatter how clever the criminal, he is almost certain to make an errorsooner or later," said Moore.

  "Yes, but it takes peculiar power to discover it," I chirped. The eventsof the day had tired me, and my mind was growing confused. I desired togo to bed.

  Oakes smiled slightly. "No, Stone; it takes study, worry and patientreasoning to discover the faulty link in a clever criminal'slogic--that is why there is a profession like mine."

  I was half asleep, but I heard him continue: "We may consider we haveexcellent cause to look for a man who has in his possession an ancientrevolver and some very old dirty cartridges covered with verdigris, likethese here."

  "Murder will out," I interpolated.

  "Yes, eventually, sometimes. However, it is easy to say, 'he who hadthat revolver did the murder,' but as it may have been destroyed sincethen, or thrown into the river, it is another thing to find the _man_."

  We were crestfallen. Oakes himself looked wearied.

  "I wish the whole Mansion was in the river, and there were a decent caferound here," protested Moore.

  "You're a vigorous pair of assistants, I must say," said Quintus. "Ihave some samples in my room. Come!" and we all adjourned.