Chapter VI
"_Madame Colette Marinette._"
Dr. Marcy was the first person to join me in the breakfast room thefollowing morning. To my surprise, he informed me that Mr. FieldingThaneford had passed a comfortable night and was better. "Of course I amspeaking in comparative terms," he added. "The old man has had a strokeof apoplexy. He is partially paralyzed on the right side, and his powerof speech is gone entirely. He cannot recover, but he may linger on forsome time."
"A week?"
"Perhaps longer. It is impossible to say--and here comes John."
The younger Thaneford favored us with a short nod and an unintelligibleword, and demanded of Effingham a full pot of coffee, strong and hot. Imade some obligatory enquiries, in my capacity of host, but my unwelcomeguest gave me only the curtest of replies. Nevertheless I feltsufficiently large-minded to make allowances. After all, the man hadreceived two pretty severe blows, in the loss of his inheritance and inthe strickening of his father; and it could not be pleasant for him tobe accepting my hospitality.
Doctor Marcy waited until Thaneford had finished his breakfast; then hebluntly asked for the holding of an inquest on Francis Graeme's death."I formally withdraw the medical certificate," he continued, "on theground that new evidence has come to light."
"What new evidence?" inquired John Thaneford, his beetling eyebrowscontracting angrily.
"I'll submit it to your jury," retorted the doctor.
There was no further discussion of the main point. Legally it was forThaneford alone to decide upon the necessity for an inquest, and for amoment or two I thought he looked disinclined to give in. Then,apparently, he changed his mind. "You don't seem to have much confidencein your own medical opinions," he said nastily. "But I'm as anxious asanybody to ferret out the truth behind this business. And possibly wemay get some light upon the making of that remarkable will. I take itthat Mr. Hugh Hildebrand will offer no objection." I made no answer tothe taunt, and Thaneford went to the telephone to call his jurorstogether.
It was not until two days later that the members of the jury werefinally assembled at the "Hundred." Two of them were neighboringfarmers; there were also a couple of small business men from Calverton.The fifth man was a Mr. Chalmers Warriner, a chemist and the head of theexperimental department of the Severn Optical Glass Works; and, greatlyto my surprise, I was ordered by the coroner to take the sixth and lastplace in the panel. All of my associates had known Francis Graemepersonally, and it was apparent that the unusual circumstance of theholding of the inquest after the interment had aroused curiosity and nosmall amount of speculation.
By direction of the coroner the body had been exhumed and an autopsyperformed. The expert examination had been made by Dr. Clayton Williamsof the Johns Hopkins Medical School, and he was the first witnesscalled.
Doctor Williams told the jury that while the wound on the temple mighthave been sufficient to cause death still he was not prepared topronounce positively upon the point. In answer to a question fromProfessor Warriner, Doctor Williams went on to say that the autopsy hadrevealed a very peculiar condition of the brain--a lesion of mostunusual character.
"Not necessarily caused by the blow on the temple?" asked Warriner.
"I do not think so," answered the witness.
"Can you assign a cause?"
"I have never seen anything quite like it, Mr. Warriner. In consequence,I haven't any theory of causation to advance."
"But you must have come to some conclusions," persisted Warriner.
"All I can say is that the degenerative process observed by me resembledthat induced by sunstroke, but on a greatly intensified scale. It ispossible, of course, that Mr. Graeme may have had some obscure braindisease, and that it had progressed to a critical stage quiteunsuspected by himself, or even by his medical advisers."
"You mean," continued Warriner, "that the deceased may have had a suddenseizure, resulting in his falling from his chair and striking his headupon the corner of that iron despatch-box placed in evidence by DoctorMarcy?"
"It is possible."
"Then it is a perfectly plain case?"
"I'm not so sure about that," returned Doctor Williams. "The brainlesion may have killed him before he fell; the superficial injury mayhave no importance whatever. Or the wound may have been caused by aweapon in the hands of another person."
"But there is no question of another person," put in John Thaneford.
There was nothing more of a tangible character to be obtained from thetestimony of the medical gentlemen; for Doctor Marcy could onlyreiterate his belief that Francis Graeme had appeared to be in perfecthealth on that fatal morning. Of course there had been no opportunityfor the usual laboratory tests, but his physical condition could nothave been precarious; that was unthinkable. There were just two factorsin evidence--the internal lesion and the external injury. Which was thepredetermining cause, and which was the final effect? Or was it thatneither fact had any real relation to the death of Francis Graeme? Noone could say, and Doctor Williams was finally permitted to retire. Ifancied that the saturnine countenance of Coroner Thaneford showed asecret satisfaction in the apparent confusion of testimony.
The customary depositions were taken from the house servants, but theyadded little or nothing to our stock of knowledge. Effingham, thebutler, was asked to explain his five minutes' absence from sentry dutyat the library door while Doctor Marcy was engaged in meeting MissGraeme. He answered very simply that Miss Eunice Trevor had sent him toher dressing-room for smelling-salts and a bottle of aromatic spirits ofammonia. When questioned about the master-key he declared that no oneknew of its hiding place behind the clock in the pantry; he did notbelieve that it had been touched until he had taken it himself, shortlybefore two o'clock, for the purpose of unlocking the library door.Finally Doctor Marcy told the jury of the peculiar circumstancesconcerning the iron despatch-box. But he could not positively affirmthat the box was not in the room when he first examined the body; he wasobliged to admit that he might have merely overlooked its presence.
John Thaneford turned to the jury. "Is there any use in going on withthe inquiry?" he asked. "I don't believe we can do more than return anon-committal verdict--dead by the visitation of God, or something likethat."
"Or alternatively, by the act of party or parties unknown," interpolatedWarriner.
"Don't see why you should say that," retorted Thaneford, scowlingdarkly.
"Well, Doctor Marcy has pointed out the unexplained disappearance of theiron despatch-box; I mean between his first and second visit to theroom. I think we ought to make sure that no other person entered thelibrary in the interim, or had the opportunity and means to do so."
"Just what do you want?" demanded Thaneford truculently.
"Let's have Effingham back again," said Warriner calmly. "I want to asksome questions that I didn't think of before."
There could be no valid objection to this procedure; and, accordingly,the coroner directed that the negro butler should be recalled.
While we were waiting Warriner had risen and was walking about the room,examining its details with profound attention. He was particular inassuring himself that the main windows could not be opened, and that theapertures provided by the swinging of the pridellas on their pivots wereimpracticable to anyone except a really small boy. When Effinghamreappeared Warriner took the examination into his own hands.
"Now, Effingham," he began, "I want to know everything about this room.Are there any traps leading to the cellar, any scuttle-panels in thedome?"
"Nossir. It am tight all roun'--like um bottle. Doan know nuffin' 'bouttraps and scuttles."
"Undoubtedly correct," commented Warriner, looking around at us. "I havetested the floor pretty thoroughly, and it is solid everywhere. Thesame, I think, may be said of the dome and ceiling--not the sign of acrack or jointure." He turned savagely on Effingham. "Now tell me, youblack scoundrel, where the secret door is?"
Effingham's countenance of shining ebony took on
the ashy tinge peculiarto his race under the emotional stress of fright or duress. "Nebberheard of 'im," he said quickly, and relapsed into wary silence.
"You know me," continued Warriner, "and what I can put on you if youdon't obey me and answer my questions. Where is it?"
Effingham's knees shook in visible terror. Professor Warriner enjoyed awide reputation among the colored folk as a dealer in "cunjers" andother forbidden arts; was not his physical laboratory the veritableanteroom to the infernal regions. The old negro, torn betweensuperstitious fears and his inherited sense of loyalty to theHildebrand family, trembled and gasped as he tried to face his terribleinquisitor. "Whuffer you pick on ole Effingham?" he protested feebly. "Idoan know nuffin 'bout any secret doah."
"Do what the gentleman tells you, Effingham." The voice was quiet andcontrolled, and yet there was an undertone of emotional vibration in it;I turned and saw Miss Trevor, who had entered the room unbidden andunannounced. I thought that John Thaneford looked both angry anddismayed, but he did not attempt to exercise his official authority.
"Yessum," returned Effingham with cheerful alacrity. Since one of theladies of the family had assumed the responsibility it was not for himto offer any further objection. He went over to the right side of thegreat fireplace and touched a spring in the paneling; a door, just highand wide enough to accommodate an ordinary sized person, swung open.
"Nothing very romantic about this door," commented Miss Trevor. "It ismerely a short cut to the terrace and gardens, besides being aconvenient means of avoiding uncongenial visitors. But I don't think Mr.Graeme often used it, and none of the servants, except Effingham, areeven aware of its existence."
We all crowded around the secret entrance. The short passage turnedsharply to the left behind the massive bulk of the chimney breast; wecaught just a glimpse of a second and outer door, strongly built andbanded with stout iron.
Warriner stepped forward and entered the passage, reappearing almostimmediately. "The outside door is unlocked," he said. "But that doesn'tprove anything of itself. Before proceeding further I think it would bewise to examine the exterior situation."
I happened to catch Miss Trevor's eye, and I could have sworn that aspark of relief-cum-triumph burned there for the infinitesimal part of asecond. We trooped into the hall and left the house in order to gain thelibrary terrace.
There was the door, cleverly masked by vines, in a corner of the chimneystack. Moreover, its wooden surface had been veneered with stucco,colored and lined to simulate the brick of the chimney; the deceptionwas quite good enough to pass casual inspection.
"The vines don't count for much," said Warriner. "Easy to push themaside. But hullo! what's that?"
Plastered squarely on the line of the door opening was the empty cocoonof a moth. It was perfectly evident that the door could not have beenopened without destroying the fragile structure, and of course it musthave been fixed in position months before to give time for thetransformation of the pupa into the perfect insect. That seemed tosettle the question of either entrance or exit for a period longantedating the death of Francis Graeme.
"Pretty conclusive testimony," remarked Warriner. "I take it we're allwitness to the fact, and so if no one has any objection----" And then,before a protest could have been voiced, he coolly picked off the cocoonand dropped it into his pocket.
When we were reassembled in the library John Thaneford again suggestedthat we might proceed to the formality of a verdict; he pointed out thatthere was no shred of evidence connecting any definite person with thetragedy. But once more Warriner was ready with a counter-proposal; hewanted to examine the two negroes who were working on the south lawnbetween those fateful hours of noon and two o'clock on the twenty-firstof June.
"But Doctor Marcy has their positive assurance," urged Thaneford, "thatno stranger was seen about the place that day. Isn't that so, doctor?"he continued, turning to Marcy.
Doctor Marcy nodded. "Yes, and I've known both men all my life," hesaid. "I can vouch for them as being perfectly straight."
"Better have them in and get their evidence on the record at firsthand," persisted Warriner.
There was incontrovertible reason in this, and Zack and Zeb were sentfor. John Thaneford still looked like a thunder cloud, and I found itdifficult to make up my mind. Was he annoyed at the masterful way inwhich his official authority was being usurped, or was he inwardlyanxious to keep the inquiry within conventional bounds; was it evenpossible that he was seeking to shield somebody? His personal skirtsmust be clear, for it was positively established that he had been at"Thane Court" the entire day of June the twenty-first. Being a relative,the tidings of Mr. Graeme's death had been sent to him by telephone, andhe had replied that he would come immediately to the "Hundred." But hehad not put in an appearance until the next morning. The one suspiciouscircumstance was his willingness, almost eagerness, to accept DoctorMarcy's certificate without making any investigation on his own account,coupled with his subsequent reluctance to reopen the inquiry. Finally,his attitude throughout the inquest had been restless and perfunctory;it could be easily seen that the exercise of his duty as coroner wasmost distasteful to him. But I was keenly aware that I did not like JohnThaneford; all the more reason that I should not do him any injustice.And so I kept my cogitations to myself.
Zack and Zeb proved to be model witnesses under Warriner's skilfultutelage. It was positively determined that no stranger had been nearthe library terrace between eleven and two o'clock on the day inquestion.
"Or anybody else?" asked Warriner.
"Miss Eunice she done come by thar; walkin' up fum de gyarding,"answered Zeb.
"What time was that?"
"Ah reckon 'bout one o'clock, sah."
"How do you know? Do you carry a watch?"
"Nossah, but de oberseer's bell for de fiel' hands just done rung,"asserted the witness with conviction.
"Where did Miss Trevor go?"
"I doan know, sah. I speck she went plum into de manshun house--roun' decornah, sah."
Zack could add nothing more to this statement, and Zeb, when called inhis turn, merely produced corroborative testimony.
"I think we had better see Miss Trevor herself," said Warriner, afterZeb had bowed and scraped his way out.
"All damned nonsense," objected Thaneford, looking uglier than ever."And I must say, Mr. Warriner, that you are taking a great deal too muchon yourself. I'm the coroner, and I know my duty."
Warriner stuck to his guns, and he was backed up by a juryman namedOrton, a well-to-do farmer and an unusually intelligent man, as itseemed to me. Thaneford finally yielded ungracious assent and MissTrevor again entered the room. As she stood confronting us I was struckby the intense pallor of her skin, when contrasted with the coalblackness of her hair and her sombre apparel of mourning. Yet sheappeared perfectly collected and self-possessed; she admitted readilythat she had been on the library terrace at the approximate hour of oneo'clock; she explained that she had gone to the walled garden to cutsome flowers for the luncheon table; she had returned by the terrace asthat was the shortest way to the front door; she had entered the house,and, after arranging the flowers, she had retired to her own room.Warriner put a question or two relative to her taking Effingham's postat the library door while Doctor Marcy was endeavoring to break thenews to Betty; her answers were definite and given without hesitation.Yes, she had sent the servant upstairs to get the smelling salts and theammonia; she had thought the restoratives might be needed. Her accountof the finding of the body agreed perfectly with the story told byDoctor Marcy.
"Thank you, Miss Trevor," said Warriner. "Just one more question. Whatsort of flowers did you cut on your visit to the garden?"
"Yellow roses. I think the variety is called _Madame ColetteMarinette_."
Upon Miss Trevor's retirement the verdict was taken. It was unanimousand to the effect that Francis Hildebrand Graeme had come to his deaththrough the visitation of God.
The jurymen climbed into their surreys and
Fords and took theirdeparture. Warriner lingered behind, and a few minutes later he joinedme on the porch, where I was smoking a long longed-for cigarette. MissTrevor had gone upstairs, and John Thaneford had betaken himself to thesick-room; we were entirely alone.
"I found this in the passage behind the secret door," he said, andhanded me the withered remains of what had been a magnificent yellowrose.
"Interesting exhibit, isn't it," he went on dryly.
"You don't--you don't mean?" I stammered.
"I'm not very much up on floriculture, but this particular varietyhappens to be one of my favorites. The florists call it----"
"Yes?"
"_Madame Colette Marinette._"