CHAPTER XVII
The case of the people of the State of California against Roger Kenwickopened with the testimony of Richard Glover, chief witness for theprosecution. Glover took the stand quietly and told his story in lucid,clear-cut sentences, pausing occasionally to recall some obscure detailor make certain of a date. The court reporter found it easy to take downhis unhurried statements. From time to time the "freckled" eyes of thenarrator rested upon the man in the prisoner's box with an impersonal,dispassionate glance. And always he met those of Kenwick fixed upon hisface with a sort of awed fascination. Just so might the victim of asnake-charmer watch him while he disclosed the secret of his power.
Richard Glover told how on the afternoon of February 10, 1918, he hadbeen summoned to the home of Everett Kenwick in New York and entrustedwith a commission. He was not known to the elder Kenwick, personally, hesaid, but had been a boyhood friend of Isabel Kenwick, his wife.Prompted by her recommendation, Mr. Kenwick had chosen him for thedelicate family confidence which they imparted.
It appeared that the younger brother and only living relative of Everetthad enlisted in the service, and after several months of severe fightingat the front had been wounded. He had been sent to a convalescent homein England where his physical health had been almost completelyrestored. But the surgeons had discovered that the blow on his head hadcaused a pressure upon the brain, which they deemed incurable by meansof surgery, and which they said would ultimately result in some form ofmental aberration. So they had sent him back to New York, diagnosed as apermanent invalid, and had recommended that a close watch be kept uponhim until such time as it might be necessary to commit him to aninstitution.
During the first few weeks after his return it became apparent to thebrother and sister-in-law that this diagnosis of the unfortunate youngman's condition was correct. He was given isolated quarters upon thethird floor of the house and unostentatiously watched. Letters which hewrote were intercepted and his friends notified that he had becomeirresponsible. Valuables and possessions which had been intimatelyassociated with his past life were removed from his reach, since theyappeared to confuse him and hasten his mental collapse. At the time whenhe, Glover, was summoned to the Kenwick home, prominent brainspecialists had been consulted and had agreed that an operation would beextremely dangerous to the patient and might not succeed in restoringhim to normality. And Mr. Kenwick, after what must have been weeks ofpainful pondering, had decided not to risk it but to follow the adviceof the physicians and provide for his brother unremitting guardianship.Mrs. Kenwick had strongly favored a private sanitarium, but to this herhusband would not consent. He was stricken with grief and was determinedthat Roger Kenwick's share of the family estate should be spent upon hiscomfort. And he refused to relinquish all hope of his brother's ultimaterecovery. In spite of the consensus of professional opinion to thecontrary, he still clung to the hope that the patient, aided by rest andyouth, would recuperate. And he was a shrewd enough business man torealize that private sanitariums for the mentally disabled thrive inproportion to the number of incurables which they maintain. Completerecovery for his brother was the last thing that he might expect if hesurrendered him to the mercies of such an asylum.
And so he had commissioned the witness to rent for him the Californiahome of Charles Raeburn, an old family friend, who had built it for hisbride about twelve years before, but had closed it and returned Eastfollowing her tragic suicide there a few months after their marriage.Raeburn had offered it to the Kenwicks with the stipulation that theapartments which had been his wife's boudoir and sitting-room should notbe used. And Everett Kenwick accepted the suggestion, feeling that if hewere in his brother's position he would wish to be as far away aspossible from the surroundings in which he had grown up, andparticularly from the curious eyes of former acquaintances. Glover hadundertaken the errand and departed immediately for Mont-Mer to open thehouse and employ a suitable caretaker.
"Just a moment, Mr. Glover." It was Dayton who interrupted him. "On theoccasion of your call at the Kenwick home, did you see--the patient?"
"I did not. They had particularly chosen a time for the interview whenhe was undergoing treatment at a physician's office."
"Why did they object to your seeing him?"
"I don't think they did object, but they felt that it would be unwisejust at that time. The young man was obsessed with the idea that thehouse was full of strange people; that there was a constant stream ofguests coming and going. There was no reason why I should see him, sothey planned to avoid a meeting."
"As a matter of fact did you ever see him while he was under yoursurveillance?"
"No."
"On what occasion did you first see him?"
"On a street in San Francisco about two months ago."
"On that occasion did he see you?"
"I think not."
"Proceed."
The witness went on to relate how he had departed that same evening fromNew York, had opened up the house at Mont-Mer, and secured the servicesof a man whom he chanced to meet on the train and who was able toproduce evidence that he had once been head physician at a Los Angelessanitarium.
Here Dayton cut in again. "What was the name of this man?"
"Edward Marstan."
"Proceed."
Arrangements having been made with him, the witness communicated withEverett Kenwick, according to agreement, and the patient was sent Westin care of an attendant, one Thomas Bailey, now deceased. Glover himselfhad been in Los Angeles at the time of their arrival, but had receivedword from Marstan that the patient was properly installed at the Raeburnresidence, and the attendant returned to New York.
Dayton's voice interposed once more. "Is the Charles Raeburn home knownby any other name, Mr. Glover?"
"Yes--by the name of Rest Hollow."
"Proceed."
"My own concern in the affair was simply that of business manager," thewitness continued, "so I remained in Los Angeles for I could manage thefinancial end of it just as well from that short distance."
The district attorney suddenly broke the thread of the story here. "Thenyou deliberately avoided an encounter with the patient?"
"I did."
"Why?"
"The maladies which are classed as mental are particularly repugnant tome. I was under no obligation to see him, and I had a business of myown to which this was merely a side issue."
"But it is true, is it not," Dayton cut in, "that you received agenerous salary from Mr. Everett Kenwick for this--long distancesupervision?"
"I received from him an allowance to be spent upon the upkeep of thegrounds, the comfort of the patient, the wages of an attendant, and soon. I sent him a monthly statement of the bills when I had received andchecked them."
"You say you had another business; what was it?"
"Publicity writer for the Golden State Land Co. of Los Angeles."
"They own large mineral spring holdings in our neighboring county on thesouth, do they not?"
"Yes."
"And how long had you been interested with them at the time of thisinterview at the Kenwick home?"
"About six months, I think."
"Did Mr. Kenwick know of this other business interest?"
"Certainly. That is one thing that led to his choosing me as his agent.He knew that I was permanently located in southern California and thatI had established myself with a reputable company. It was a guarantee ofpermanence--and character."
"One moment longer, Mr. Glover, before you go on. Was the elder Mr.Kenwick aware of the fact that while you were in his employ you nevervisited Rest Hollow but once?"
"I did visit Rest Hollow. I went there every month to see that the placewas properly kept up and the attendant on duty. But I always went atnight. I held my interviews with Dr. Marstan alone."
"Go on."
The narrative skipped now to the following November when the witnesstold of having received a communication from Dr. Marstan informing himthat, owing to a mec
hanical accident, Roger Kenwick had recovered hissanity; that he, the physician, had carefully tested him and was fullyconvinced of this. It had been impossible just at that time for Gloverhimself to go to Mont-Mer as he was ill. And before he had had time tosend more than a brief note in reply, the attendant wrote again sayingthat his former patient was bitterly opposed to having his brother knowof his recovery, and had threatened him, the doctor, if he betrayed thenews. Kenwick, he said, wished to use his present position to get moremoney out of his brother for some investment that he was then planning,for he knew that in case his recovery were known, it would be a longtime before the court would grant him the control of his property, andhis father's will had provided that he was not to inherit his half ofthe estate until he should have reached the age of twenty-five.
The witness had not thought it expedient to notify Dr. Marstan of theelder Kenwick's death, so that he could not report this to the patient.They had evidently had hot words upon the subject of the disclosure ofthe patient's condition, Marstan being highly scrupulous and not beingwilling to retain his position as keeper when it was merely nominal, anarrangement upon which the young man himself insisted.
In order to prevent the patient from carrying out some sinister threat,Marstan had locked his charge into the house and gone into town probablyto consult a lawyer upon the proper course for him to pursue. This muchhe could surmise from a half-written letter which the witness himselfhad found on the evening that he returned to Mont-Mer.
"And that was the state of things when you arrived at Rest Hollow onthe evening of November 21?" Dayton asked.
"That was the state of things."
"Describe the condition of the house and grounds on the evening of thetragedy."
The witness did so, with the same unhurried attention to detail.
"And when you came upon the body of the dead man under the dining-roomwindow, why did you conclude that it was your former charge, RogerKenwick?"
"Every circumstance seemed to point to it. And I found upon the bodypossessions that seemed unmistakable evidence."
"Describe those possessions."
"A wrist-watch with the initials R.K. upon the inside; a silvermatch-case with the one initial K.; a linen handkerchief with thatinitial."
"But you said, did you not, in the early part of your testimony, thatthe patient's personal possessions had been taken from him when hebecame incompetent?"
"They had. But all of his things were in Doctor Marstan's possession.They were in his apartments, and any normal person could easily havefound them, and naturally Kenwick would have demanded them."
"Had you ever seen a picture of Roger Kenwick to aid you in youridentification of his body?"
"No. But I knew his age, and it seemed to correspond exactly with thatof the dead man. Furthermore he looked like a person who was wasted byill health. I hadn't a doubt that it was he."
"How did you think that he had met his death?"
"By suicide. I believed then that the doctor had been mistaken and thathe had not made a complete recovery."
"When did you begin to suspect, Mr. Glover, that instead of being dead,the prisoner was a deliberate murderer?"
"Not until I discovered that he had made his escape from Rest Hollow. Isaw his name on a hotel register in San Francisco and I became alarmedand put a detective on his track, for I felt responsible for him and wasnot convinced that he should be at large. But the detective reported tome that Kenwick showed absolutely no signs of abnormality. Then I camedown here and followed the back trail. And I discovered that Marstan hadbeen killed in an automobile accident on the day when he had come intotown for legal aid. By inquiring of the gardener at Rest Hollow Ilearned that he had seen a young man out under the dining-room windowtalking to Kenwick early in the afternoon. The prisoner was entreatingthis stranger to let him out and----"
"Let that witness give his own testimony. That will do, Mr. Glover."Then, as he was about to leave the stand, "No, just a minute. You say itwas about midnight when you discovered the body. Did you notify thecoroner?"
"That was my first impulse; but I found that the telephone was out oforder, so I decided to wait until it was light before going in for him.But in the morning, just as I finished dressing, he came. He told methat he had been notified by some one else."
"By whom?"
"I don't know. He said that he was out of town when the message came in,and found it awaiting him when he returned. I got the impression that hedidn't know himself who had reported the tragedy."
This last testimony corresponded in every detail with that given byAnnisen, who described minutely his findings upon the body, thediscovery, a short distance away, of the loaded revolver with a shotfired out of it, and the haggard condition of the face, indicating longinvalidism. The body, he said, had lain in the morgue until thefollowing afternoon and been viewed by scores of the morbidly curious.Not one person had recognized it, nor apparently entertained theslightest suspicion that it was not the unfortunate inmate of RestHollow. And so he had felt justified in accepting Richard Glover'sdeclaration of the dead man's identity. He knew that the patient'skeeper had been killed in an automobile accident the day before, andevery circumstance seemed to point to a suicidal frenzy.
His story was followed by that of a gawky, frightened-looking boy whokept his eyes riveted upon the prosecution's chief witness while hetalked. He disclaimed all knowledge of the arrangements concerning thepatient's guardianship, his business being merely to care for the gardenand furnace. He had never come into close contact with the patienthimself; had only seen him at a distance sometimes, wandering about thegrounds alone. He had always seemed perfectly quiet and harmless, buthe, the gardener, had been afraid that he might some time have a "spell"such as he had heard of in similar cases, and so had kept carefully outof his way.
In the late afternoon of November 21, he reported, when he returned froma far corner of the place where he had been pruning, he had found thepatient lying in a faint on the floor of the garage. With some effort hehad dragged him into the house and left him in the drawing-room, afterbandaging his swollen leg as well as he could and forcing part of aglass of whisky down his throat. Then he had departed, after firstmaking sure that the doors and windows on the ground floor were securelyfastened. Late the following afternoon he had seen the prisoner standingat the dining-room window and had heard him call out in a threateningway to him. A moment afterward, without the slightest warning, thepatient had doubled his fist and smashed the pane of glass to fragments.Convinced that this was one of the "spells" which he had dreaded, he hadwaited until he thought the patient was in bed and had then returned andboarded up the window.
Here Dayton interrupted. "And you believed the man in the house to beill and alone, and yet you felt no concern about his care?"
"I didn't think he was alone. I had seen a woman around the place thatafternoon, and I thought she was his nurse."
A murmur swept around the breathless court-room. Everybody in theaudience made some comment to his neighbor upon this new development.The judge rapped sharply for order. "Go on," commanded the districtattorney.
The witness proceeded to relate that he had gone to bed that nightfeeling nervous over the patient's conduct and had resolved to give uphis employment at Rest Hollow. About eleven o'clock he had been rousedfrom a fitful sleep by a knock at his door. Upon opening it he had foundGifford, the undertaker, standing on the threshold. Here he endeavoredto recollect the exact words of the night caller, and after a moment'spause, produced the greeting: "Get up, boy. Do you know that there'sbeen murder committed on this place to-night?" With Gifford he hadhurried around to the dining-room side of the house and had discoveredthe dead body lying there under an oleander bush, near the very windowwhich the patient had so unaccountably broken that same afternoon.Terrified, he had not paused to give the body even a fleeting glance,but had stumbled back to his room and made a hasty bundle of hisclothes, determined not to pass another hour on that place. Heremembered Gifford
calling after him that he was not going to touch thebody until the coroner had seen it. Ten minutes later he had fled,leaving his door unlocked behind him.
He was dismissed from the stand, and after a moment of whispered parley,came the demand, "Call Arnold Rogers."
A young man wearing heavy-rimmed glasses took the stand and told of hisencounter with the prisoner on the evening of November 21. He describedthe scene at the gate in careful detail, halting frequently to correcthimself. The district attorney interrupted him in mid-sentence.
"Did it strike you at any time during the dialogue, Mr. Rogers, that theman inside the grounds might be--irrational?"
"Yes, but that idea did not occur to me until the end of the interview.Being a complete stranger in the community, I knew nothing about him, ofcourse, but his voice and method of appeal struck me as being a littleabnormal, and when I was starting away and he stretched a letter throughthe gate and asked me to mail it for him I was convinced that he was notrational. I was formerly a director at one our State hospitals for theinsane and I know that the mania of patients to write letters and askvisitors to mail them is one of the commonest symptoms of theiraffliction."
"And so you paid no attention to that appeal?"
"I was escorting a lady. I planned to take her home first and thenreturn or send somebody. My car was disabled and I felt responsible formy companion."
"Who was the lady?"
"My sister, Mrs. Paddington. I was visiting at her home. And when we hadgone on our way she told me, what I had already begun to suspect, thatthe inmate of Rest Hollow was a mental invalid; that he was well caredfor, and although the case was pathetic, we need feel under noobligation to return. His attendant, we reasoned, had already discoveredhim by that time and taken him back to the house. We had both dismissedhim from our minds when about half an hour later a woman rushed up toour door, breathless from a long trip by foot, and told us that theinmate of Rest Hollow had killed himself; that she had found him lyingdead under the dining-room window. I don't remember just who 'phoned thenews in to the proper authorities, but I think it was she. My sisteroffered to send her into town in one of her cars, and did so. We neverknew her name nor saw her again."
"And you credited the woman's story as it stood?"
"We saw no reason to doubt it. It fitted exactly with our encounter atthe gate. The time was a coincidence, too. We assumed that the youngman's attendant had not arrived in time to save him from suicide. Andthere was another reason, too, why we did not care to give the mattermore intensive investigation." He stopped and glanced appealingly at hisquestioner, but there was no relenting in the lawyer's eyes. "My sisterhad a guest visiting her to whom the name of Roger Kenwickbrought--unhappy associations. She was unfortunately present at thearrival of the woman from Rest Hollow, and after the shock of theannouncement was over we carefully avoided all further discussion of thetragedy. The following morning, in courtesy to our guest, I went over tothe Raeburn house with some flowers from the Utopia gardens, andverified the report that the patient was dead. The next day my sister'sfriend left for her home in San Francisco and we considered the affair aclosed incident."
The testimony of the other witnesses for the prosecution was given indue order, and the case summed up against Roger Kenwick charged himwith having laid a deliberate plot to murder Marstan, his former keeper,he being the only man, he thought, who could interfere with hisfinancial plans, and prevent him from playing upon his brother'schivalric affection.
It was pointed out that only a month before his recovery the Kenwickestate had trebled its value, owing to the fact that leather goods,which were the source of the Kenwick income, had trebled in value sincethe beginning of the war. From newspaper accounts and discussions withMarstan himself, the recovered patient had shrewdly sized up thesituation and laid his plans. It was previously stated that the elderKenwick had, before his brother's misfortune, kept a jealous grip uponthe family purse, and that during his college days at the StateUniversity, Roger Kenwick had been obliged to eke out his allowance bydoing newspaper work on one of the San Francisco dailies. Only in hissoftened mood was Everett Kenwick to be counted upon for continuedgenerosity.
On the day of the tragedy, the ward had watched Marstan closely and hadseen him depart for town. Earlier in the afternoon he had himself shownsigns of violence in order to sustain the impression that he was stillirresponsible. Kenwick's plan to kill his warden was perfectly safe,for he knew that if the crime ever came to light he could be cleared onan insanity charge. His worse punishment would be commitment to aninstitution, from which he could later be released by proving himselfcured.
On the way out from town the doctor's car had pitched over a cliff,killing him instantly. Kenwick, ignorant of the tragedy and lying inwait for his victim, saw a man steal in late at night through the sideentrance. No callers ever came to the place, so having no doubt that itwas the returning warden, he had crept up behind him in the darkness andshot him in the head with the revolver which his attendant always keptloaded for an emergency, and which the patient by spying upon his wardenone night, had discovered.
A few minutes previous to the murder he had played a skilful part at thefront gate, holding up the first person who passed and telling anincoherent story which he knew, coming from him, would not be believed,and which would be of valuable assistance in case it were ever necessaryto prove an insanity charge.
When he discovered that he had killed the wrong man, he adopted a planwhich proved him not only rational but unusually astute. From aprevious conversation with the dead man, whom he now recognized as afellow who had once come in to assist with some work on the car, he knewhim to be a stranger in the community. He knew himself to be equallyunknown, except by name, and it was an easy matter to exchangeidentities. So Kenwick had transferred to the dead man certain of hisown personal possessions which he discovered after his mental recovery.He had selected these carefully and with diabolical cunning, placed themin the other man's pockets, and then made his escape from the placeeither by foot or in the wagon of the undertaker, which must by thistime have arrived.
When he reached Mont-Mer, the testimony continued, he had given afictitious name, gained the sympathy and credence of the doctor andundertaker, and finally, by a clever ruse, escaped from town ascustodian of the body of the very man whom he had planned to kill.Knowing that Marstan was dead, he felt himself completely secure andfoot-free to carry out his designs. The only person upon whom he did notreckon, because he didn't know of his existence, was Richard Glover.
The one missing link in the story was supplied by evidence which,although circumstantial, seemed undeniably convincing to the jury. Thewoman who had notified the coroner must also have been an inmate of RestHollow, the mistress of Marstan, who had lived in ease and luxury,unknown to the physician's employer or any one else. She knew that herreputation lay in Kenwick's hands. She was tired of Marstan and waseager but afraid to escape. The criminal had supplied her with the meansat small cost. The time of the disclosure of the crime had beenskilfully worked out between them. And it had been executed with amasterly skill. Depot authorities had reported later that a womantraveling alone had bought a ticket on the late train for San Franciscothat evening. The station-agent remembered the incident perfectly. Bygood luck Kenwick had caught the same train. They had traveled to thecity together.
Glover, who had been recalled to the stand and was giving thistestimony, stated that upon dismissing the detective from his employ hehad followed the case himself and was certain that Kenwick and hisaccomplice had lived together intermittently in San Francisco, and thathe had been supplying her with funds.
It was at this point that Roger Kenwick, who had been sitting like a manfrozen to his chair, suddenly electrified the court-room by springingto his feet. He had forgotten his surroundings, was contemptuous of theformalities, oblivious to everything save the insolent assurance inRichard Glover's eyes, and the steady gaze with which Marcreta Morgan'sbrother was regarding him. His sensitive
nostrils quivered like those ofa highly strung race-horse. His hands, those hands so impatient ofdelay, were clenched till the knuckles showed through the drawn skinlike knobs of ivory. He struggled to speak but no words came. Then hebecame aware of the fact that the sheriff was forcing him back into hisseat. Dayton leaned over and whispered sharply to him. "Sit down, man.You'll kill your case. What do you want them to think of you?"
The words recalled him to his surroundings. From sheer physical weaknesshe sank back into his chair. Another moment intervened while theauditors relaxed from the moment of tension. Then out of the deathlysilence came Dayton's voice again, calm and with no trace of excitement.
"You say that when you first discovered the prisoner in San Franciscoyou employed a detective to help you on his case, Mr. Glover. Lookaround the court-room. Is that man present?"
"He is." There was a shade of reluctance in the reply.
"What is his name?"
"Granville Jarvis."
The next moment Glover had stepped down from the stand and resumed hisplace at the far end of the long table. Dayton leaned across to hisclient. "Jarvis?" he inquired, his pencil poised above his pad."Granville Jarvis; is that the name?"
The light had gone out of Kenwick's eyes and the fire out of his voice.He had crumpled down in his chair like a man suddenly overcome with aspinal disease. He looked at Dayton with dead eyes.
"The name," he said bitterly, "is Judas Iscariot!"