Chapter IV
_Some Hypothetical Questions_
Dinner was not a particularly cheerful meal. I had to take the head ofthe table, and therefore sat in the chair so lately vacated by my CousinFrancis Graeme. Really I should have preferred a decent delay in thematter, but old Effingham, the family butler for two generations past,would have it so, and any protest would have been both futile andunseemly.
There were three of us at table, for Doctor Marcy was staying on to lookafter the sick man, and would remain over night in default of theregular nurse, who could not be secured until the next day. I liked thedoctor, a blunt, ruddy faced man of forty-five or so. He told me that hewas a graduate of Edinburgh, and that he had led an adventurous life forseveral years after taking his medical degree, including service in theBritish army during the Boer War. He had a curious scar running down theleft side of his jaw and extending nearly to the chin. Naturally I hadnot commented upon the disfigurement, but somehow the subject ofinsanity came up, and he told us of a remarkable experience of hishospital days. A patient, subject to periodical fits of mania, was to beoperated upon, and Marcy was alone with him in a large room where theinstruments were kept. With his hands full of chisels, trephines, andmallets Marcy went to cross the room, and chanced to trip on a rug,falling headlong. Instantly the patient, an English army officer oftremendous physique, was upon him, kicking him in the face with hisheavy, double-welted boots. Marcy, fearing that the madman might gethold of the eight-pound mallet, rolled over and flung the whole lot ofinstruments across the room; thereby he exposed the other side of hishead, and the consequence was another terrific kick on the left jaw.With his mouth full of blood and broken teeth Marcy grappled with hisman, dragged him to where he could reach a push-button, and held himuntil help arrived. The curious part of the affair lay in the fact thatup to the moment of the fall the patient had been perfectly sane,talkative, and friendly. Marcy's sudden slip and defenseless positionhad simply unchained the beast in the man. It must have been an Homericstruggle, for Marcy himself, though comparatively short of stature,possessed the most marvelous muscular development I have ever seen, hisforearm being bigger than the average man's leg. When I add that,despite his terrible injuries, Marcy assisted that same afternoon at theoperation (which in the end restored the patient to perfect mentalhealth), it will be evident that there was little of the weakling abouthim; as I have said, I liked him from the start.
John Thaneford ate and talked but little during the meal. He drankseveral glasses of whiskey and water, and smoked a cigarette betweenevery course. The cloud of his sullen temper was oppressive, and boththe doctor and I felt relieved when he abruptly declined coffee, andannounced his intention of returning to the sick room. The elderThaneford still continued in a comatose condition, and really there wasnothing to do but wait for whatever change might come; accordinglyDoctor Marcy ran upstairs for a hasty look at his patient, and thenrejoined me in the library, where coffee and liqueurs had been served.
Effingham had taken his tray and retired to the pantry. Doctor Marcypulled at his cigar until it glowed redly; then he looked over at me.
"You're Hildebrand of the 'Hundred,' I hear," he began abruptly.
"Yes."
"Consequently you ought to know of something that has been bothering memore than a little. Has it ever been intimated to you that there wasanything peculiar about the death of your cousin?"
"Francis Graeme! Why, no; nothing has been said to me."
"Well, I don't think his death was a natural one."
It startled me, the assured manner in which he spoke; in an instant, theatmosphere of this quiet country room seemed to have grown tense andheavy. "Go on," I said briefly.
"As you know," continued Doctor Marcy, "Mr. Graeme died suddenly onTuesday, June 21, presumably from heart failure or a cerebralhemorrhage. As a matter of record, my routine certificate gives thelatter as the cause of death. The fact of a brain lesion was fullyestablished, as I'll explain later, but I'm not at all satisfied as tothe predisposing cause."
"Yes."
"You'll understand what I'm driving at when I tell you that I sawFrancis Graeme professionally that very morning, and I know that he wasin the best of health for a man of his age. He had been thinking oftaking out additional life insurance, and as I am the county examinerfor the company, he asked me to drop in Tuesday morning and go over him.Mind you, I had been his regular physician for a number of years, longbefore he came to the 'Hundred,' and I knew him inside and out. Astraighter, cleaner man never lived, and he had always kept himself intop condition; I had never discovered the least sign of any degenerativeprocess.
"Well, I did come over, and I saw him in this very room where we aresitting. He was cheerful as usual, and even joked me on the possibilitythat I might at last uncover one of the insidious enemies to health thatso often make their appearance in middle life. But there was nothing,absolutely nothing--heart, lungs, circulatory system--all in first-classshape. As a matter of form, there would have to be a laboratoryanalysis, but otherwise I was prepared to give him a clean bill ofhealth, and I told him so. He took it quite as a matter of course, and,after arranging for a round of golf that same afternoon at the LostRiver Country Club, we parted. That was around ten o'clock, and at halfpast two I had a telephone from the 'Hundred,' asking me to come over atonce. When I arrived I was taken in here. Graeme lay on the floor,alongside the big library table. On his right temple there was anoticeable contusion, triangular in shape. He was stone dead."
"Could you tell how long?"
"Probably a couple of hours."
"The wound, of course, was your first thought."
"Naturally. And in itself it was quite enough to have caused death.Remember that it was on the temple, a vulnerable spot."
"An assailant then?"
"By hypothesis certainly. I may say that I have had some experience incriminal cases; accordingly I was very careful not to disturb anything,and up to this time I had only touched the man's wrist to assure myselfthat the pulse was gone."
"Who was it that gave the alarm?"
"I am told that one of the servants, Effingham, to be precise, knockedon the library door at about half past one o'clock, to announce theserving of luncheon. He then went away without waiting for an answerfrom Mr. Graeme; it seems that was his custom on the occasion of thisparticular summons. A half hour later, when Mr. Graeme failed to appearat the table, Miss Trevor told Effingham to go again and make sure thathis master had heard the message. I understood that occasionally Graemewould not come to luncheon, especially if he happened to be more thanusually busy; he might appear an hour or so later, and forage around fora glass of milk and a couple of biscuits."
"His tardiness then excited no surprise?"
"Apparently not. But Effingham went again to the library, and knockedtwo or three times without getting any response."
"Must have been very alarming to Miss Graeme."
"Oh, luckily Betty wasn't at home. Miss Trevor was alone in the house,and everything devolved upon her. Finally she decided to have the doorbroken down, but after she had given the order Effingham reminded herthat it would not be necessary. A few months before Graeme had installeda complete system of modern locks throughout the house, and the butlerhad the master key in his possession."
"That's an interesting point."
"Yes--very. Well, Effingham went to the butler's pantry and got thekey."
"Oh, then it was not in his immediate possession after all?"
"I believe he was in the habit of keeping it behind the clock in thepantry instead of with his regular bunch. Of course the idea was thatif any of the ordinary keys were lost, or indeed the whole lot of them,he would still have the master key in reserve."
"Do you suppose that anyone else--especially among the otherservants--knew about the master-key and where it was kept?"
"Effingham is quite sure that no one did know, but really it'simpossible to say. You understand what darkies are--as curious asmagpies
and quite as lighthanded. If one of them had chanced to seeEffingham hiding something behind the clock, he would be sure toinvestigate for himself at the first convenient opportunity."
"While a clever thief, guessing that a master-key must be in existence,would go straight to such a prominent object as a clock for his firsttry. Curious, isn't it, how human nature prefers beaten trails, the oldruts, the obvious grooves in which to run. Take the ordinary smallsuburban house, with nobody home and everything supposed to be tightlylocked up. It's a one-to-three shot, at least, that the front door keywill be found neatly tucked away under the mat. But I shouldn't haveinterrupted."
"The more light the better," nodded the doctor, helping himself to afresh cigar.
"Where was I? Ah, yes, at the opening of the door. Miss Trevor, so Iunderstand, hung back a little; a woman naturally shrinks from this sortof thing, and Marcus, the house-boy, was the first person to enter. Forthe instant it seemed as though the room was empty, and Effingham sayshe heard Marcus exclaim: 'Marse Francis he done gone out!' Then as theboy drew level with the high leather screen, standing at the right ofthe big desk as one enters the room, he saw the body, yelled in terror,and bolted. Miss Trevor had fainted----"
"When? Exactly when?" I broke in.
"I don't know," returned Marcy. "It may have been before she heardMarcus scream, and it may have been after. I dare say everybody's nerveswere pretty tense by this time."
"Well, Effingham seems to have kept his head. He ordered out the otherservants, had Miss Trevor carried into the dining room, where shequickly revived, and finally he telephoned for me."
"At Miss Trevor's request?"
"At Miss Trevor's request. That brings us up again to my arrival on thescene, and my first hasty impressions.
"As I have said, Mr. Graeme lay face downward alongside the desk, justhidden by the screen from the gaze of anyone entering the room from thehall. Since the head was turned slightly to the right, the wound was notvisible unless one knelt, as I did, directly beside the body.
"Now a wound of this nature could have been received in two easilyunderstandable ways. Either Mr. Graeme, overcome with vertigo, hadfallen and hit his head against some sharp corner, or he had beenattacked and struck down by a weapon in the hands of some unknownassailant.
"Hypothesis No. 1, or the accident theory. I can state positively thatFrancis Graeme was not in the least subject to vertigo or faintingspells, and there was nothing to indicate an ordinary trip-up and fall.There is no rug at this point, the floor while smooth is not noticeablyslippery, and Graeme was dressed for golf, wearing rubber-soled shoeswhich must have given him a particularly firm footing. Finally, therewas no apparent sharp corner on which his head could have struck. Fromthe position of the body it was clear that he had fallen entirely clearof the writing-desk."
"That seems to dispose of the accident theory."
"Seems to--yes. But it's still a possibility that he might have fallenand struck on something calculated to inflict an injury of this nature,a something which was afterward removed."
"By whom?"
"Who knows? There was time enough for many things to happen between mydeparture from the house and the discovery of the body. In the meantimeno one, supposedly, saw him. So nearly as I can determine, he died alittle after twelve o'clock, but the door was not opened until two. Aperson who knew the house well could have secured the master-key,entered the room, and left it again with little danger of detection."
"It's an impertinent observation, Doctor Marcy, but you say that _noone_ saw Mr. Graeme alive after your departure from the library at teno'clock?"
"Oh, I have my alibi straight enough," smiled the doctor. "Miss Trevorhappened to be passing through the hall as I left the room. I stoppedand spoke to her, made some jesting remark about Graeme's being good fora thousand years, more or less. At that same moment he came to thelibrary door and waved his hand to us both; then he turned back, and weheard the click of the spring-latch. I believe that he usually set thecatch when he wanted to make sure of not being disturbed.
"Now we come to hypothesis No. 2, the possible assailant. The doorleading into the hall was locked. There are no roof openings. Thewindows of stained glass in leaded frames are immovable; otherwise therewould be danger of the valuable glass being broken or knocked outthrough an accidental jar. But for purposes of ventilation there isinserted in each section a pridella. Ah, you don't understand--come overhere."
Doctor Marcy conducted me across the room to the window on the right ofthe fireplace, the one depicting the return of the spies from the landof Canaan. "You will notice," he said, "that there are three panels inthe window, each carrying a part of the general picture. Then, in thelower part of the central panel, there is a small subsidiary scene; inthis particular case it represents a field of waving wheat in whichscarlet poppies are interspersed. This section is technically called thepridella. Being small and exactly square in shape it can be easilyhinged. See, I pull the cord that controls the locking-catch--thus--andthis small window swings open.
"Tuesday the twenty-first of June was a warm day, and the pridella ineach of the large windows was in use. Now the available aperture isabout twenty inches by ten, the glass revolving on central pivots. Aboy, or a very small man, might possibly squeeze through, but the bottomledge of the window being some five feet above the terrace level hewould have to use a ladder or a pair of steps in order to reach it. Now,as it chanced, that portion of the lawn lying adjacent to the libraryterrace was in process of being mowed that morning. I saw the men atwork, two of the farm negroes. Assuredly they would have noticed anyattempt to scale the windows."
"They themselves are quite above suspicion, I suppose."
"Unquestionably. They are elderly men who have been employed at the'Hundred' all their lives, and who bear excellent characters. Zack isthe local colored Baptist preacher, and Zeb is an assistant fieldoverseer. Impossible to suspect either, let alone both."
"Wouldn't they knock off for dinner at noon? Go to their cabins, Imean."
"Ordinarily, yes. But on Tuesday Mandy, Zack's wife, went to Calverton,and didn't return until late in the evening, or afternoon, as you wouldsay. Accordingly she made up pail dinners for both Zack and Zeb, thelatter being a boarder in their family. The men ate their food in theshadow of the osage hedge directly opposite the terrace; Effingham sawthem and told me so."
"You seem to have covered the ground pretty thoroughly," I observedapprovingly.
"And for good reasons, too," remarked the doctor. "For if I reallybelieved the circumstances warranted the step it would be my duty tocommunicate my suspicions to the coroner."
"Then you haven't done so!" I was surprised and doubtless my voiceshowed it.
"No," assented Marcy deliberately. "In the first place I was determinedto keep every
[Note: There was a misprint here in the book. Instead of the end of thisparagraph, the preceding paragraph was duplicated.]
I started; I fancied that I had caught just the faintest suggestion of asigh. Let me explain that the great room was in darkness except for thecircle of yellow light cast by the shaded lamp that stood on a table atmy right. I listened intently, but I could hear nothing more.