CHAPTER VI

WHAT TESSIE SAW

AS the others started for the door, Ned Knox touched Mears on the arm and detained him.

“Look here, Roly,” he said, “we can’t handle this thing with gloves on, you know.”

“Meaning?”

“That we must look where evidence points,--even if it’s to one of ourselves.”

“You or me?”

“No, I don’t mean that,--but,--oh, well, there’s no use mincing matters. Wasn’t Angel the last one known to have seen Curran alive?”

“There’s the visiting lady--”

“I don’t believe there was one. Old Meredith dreamed that,--or made it up.”

“Why for?”

“To create a sensation--”

“Not his rôle. He’s no Thrill Builder. I’m banking on that woman.”

“Well, anyway, take Angel into consideration. I passed the room while he was in here and I can tell you he and Curran were quarrelling.”

“Seriously?”

“Very seriously. And it was something about a needle.”

“A needle?”

“Yes,--it may sound absurd, but they were discussing a needle. And may it not be that Angel introduced the poison by means of a hypodermic needle?”

“I’d laugh at your suggestion, Knox, only it does seem as if that might have been the method used. The doctors could easily have overlooked the tiny scar it would make. And, do you see, a murderer using that means, would, if clever enough, touch the poison to the dead man’s lips, which would explain the odor of acid in his mouth, yet no trace in his stomach.”

Mears looked at Ned Knox, thoughtfully.

“You’ve built up a case against Angel. Why?”

“Only because there’s evidence that way,--and no other.” Knox returned.

“But what motive could Angel possibly have? Curran was a profitable client,--I know myself, Bob has made a lot of money off of the books he has sold him. Why kill the goose that lays the golden eggs?”

“Never mind motive, until you get your man.”

“No, Ned, never mind the man until you find the motive. However, we’ll look into Master Bob’s case, and see what we can discover.”

“There ought to be clues in this room,--more, I mean than we’ve found.”

“There certainly are enough ‘feathers left around,’” and Roly smiled at the littered floor.

“Come on,” called Kinney impatiently from the hall. “I’m waiting to lock the door.”

They accompanied the detective downstairs, where Jackson waited with his report.

“I found out quite a lot about Mr. Curran,” Jackson began, “yet none of it seems to amount to much. He was born in Indiana, but lived most of his later life in California. For the past two years he has been a writer, but for about six years before that, he was a Movie actor.”

“Not an Adonis!” observed Mears.

“No; he played character parts. They say he was fine as an old man. Well, he gave up the Pictures for a literary life, and made an immediate hit with his detective stories. He has only been writing them two years, but he has done three or four that have come well up towards the Best Sellers line.”

“What was his real name?” Kinney asked.

“The Movie People didn’t seem to know,--Dyer or Dwyer, they said. But I went to his New York publishers, and they told me it was Hugh Dwyer.”

“Why did he adopt another?”

“The publisher said, that as he was not sure his first book would be a success, he chose a _nom de plume_. Then, when the book proved popular, he retained the name of Curran.”

“Plausible enough,--no harm in all that.”

“No; then I went to one or two clubs he belonged to, and all gave him a clean record, yet no one knew much about him definitely.”

“What do you mean, definitely?”

“I mean as to his ancestry, or relatives. I can’t find that he has any kin whatever. Still, I’ve only just learned the name of Dwyer, so I may trace by that. I’ve been working on the Curran name.”

“You’ll have to wire the California people--”

“I can’t find any California people. The M. P. Company he was with, failed and disbanded over a year ago, and it’s next to impossible to learn any facts from Movie people anyway. They are the most elusive, evasive folks in the world. Oh, I’ll track down Hugh Dwyer, but it’ll take some work to do it.”

“Was he a married man?”

“Divorced. I found that out, but nobody knows when or why or from whom.”

“The records would show all that.”

“Yes, but what records? You can’t comb the whole United States.”

“Well, stick to it, Jackson. Had he no chums in New York? No intimate friends at the Clubs? No women friends? And he had no servants? No man? Surely he wasn’t absolutely alone!”

“He seems to have been, Mr. Kinney. He lived at the Grampian Annex and while they give him A-1 rating, they know nothing of his private life. The manager told me Mr. Curran often had ladies to dine or lunch with him, and sometimes small parties, but everything was always decorous and correct. In fact, he was just a decent man about town, who kept his own counsel and made a confidant of nobody. At least, that’s all I’ve got so far. He was fond of the ladies, but I heard no breath of scandal or unpleasant rumor anywhere.”

“Exemplary chap,” said Mears. “But the hardest sort to tackle. However, it’s interesting to crack a tough nut like that. I’ll bet I can find out a lot about him,--and without leaving this house.”

“Go ahead, Roly,” Loft said; “I want to find his folks, he must have some. I feel a certain responsibility, since he died in my house. And I want somebody to shift that responsibility onto.”

“I don’t blame you!” said Angel. “It’s a horrid situation. If no one turns up, shall you bury him, Val?”

“Have to, I suppose. Or let the Funeral Company take charge of the whole affair.”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Loft,” said Kinney. “The Law will dictate about the obsequies and all that.”

“All right,” Loft said, and he sighed wearily. “And I’d be obliged if the Law would clear up the matter, and find the criminal,--if any,--and free me and my friends from this exceedingly unpleasant pall of suspicion that overhangs the house!”

“Suspicion!” cried Knox. “Nonsense, Val, who is suspected?”

“We all are,” Loft returned, “The police have got hold of that fool conversation we had about methods of murder, and the ease with which it could be committed, and they think some one of us is responsible for the taking off of Hugh Curran.”

“What rubbish!” Angel spoke lightly, but Mears and Ned Knox watched him closely.

“It may be rubbish,” said Kinney, stolidly, “but if there’s only one way to look, we have to look that way. And who can see any way to look for a murderer outside this house?”

“But, man, the room door was locked,” Mears exclaimed, still watching Bob. “How could one of us manage that?”

“The windows were fastened,” Kinney retorted. “How could an outsider manage that?”

“The windows were open a little, at top and bottom,” Bob said, slowly.

“Yes, sir, but only six-inch apertures, and patent catches held them immovable. I’ve investigated all that, and nobody could possibly have entered from outside.”

“There’s a balcony beneath the windows,” said Loft, meditatively. “It runs all along that side of the house.”

“Yes, I know,” Kinney agreed, “and anybody could have walked along there. Anybody could even have shot through the six inch opening,--but no intruder could poison a man that way.”

“Righto,” said Mears, “I saw all that. And the bathroom window is small and high and practically inaccessible.”

“Positively inaccessible,” corrected Kinney. “It’s twenty feet from the ground, and no window near enough to climb across from. And if anyone had used a ladder, marks would show on the white paint outside. It is entirely unmarred.”

“That window’s too small to crawl through, anyway,” Loft said. “And, another thing, the night watchman patrols this place thoroughly. No one could go up a ladder, and remain even a few minutes, and return by the ladder without being discovered by lynx-eyed old Gideon. No, cut out all thought of an outside entrance. But that doesn’t preclude an outsider,--I mean someone not of our own household. An intruder could, I daresay, have entered the house during the day, and concealed himself until the time was ripe.”

“Yes, that must have been the way of it,” Knox argued. “We don’t know how he got in and out of Curran’s room, but he did,--so there must have been some way. I think the absence of Curran’s watch proves a robber.”

“Why did the robber leave all the other jewelry, then?” asked Bob, but Knox had no ready reply.

“I’m going to talk with some of your servants, Mr. Loft,” Kinney informed him. “I think I’ll get better results that way, than by having them up here.”

“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Angel Bob. “I want to get a line on the servants’ yarns.”

“Nobody else, then,” decreed Kinney, as Knox rose, too. “I don’t want a posse.”

Bob and the detective went to the pleasant sitting room that was provided for the servants’ use, and summoned the principal ones to conference. They called them singly, and after the non-committal testimony of the butler, the second man, the cook, and one or two maids, they felt disheartened and hopeless of gaining any information.

But a giddy, flippant little parlor maid gave them a hint of one stone left unturned.

“I do know sumpthing,” she said, with a toss of her marvellous curly head; “but I’m not sure I ought to tell it.”

“You not only ought to, but you must tell it!” Kinney said, sternly; “out with it, now!”

But this made the little minx turn stubborn, and utterly unafraid of the Arm of the Law, she made a face at the detective and pouted mutinously.

Angel laughed outright at this picture of dignity and impudence, for Kinney’s dignity was so offended as to make him look like a collapsing balloon, and the girl’s pretty face was roguish and stubborn, both at once.

He came to the rescue with his inimitable tact and irresistible charm.

“Now, Rose,--your name is Rose, isn’t it?”

“No, sir, it’s Violet.”

“Prettier yet. Now, then, Violet, you’re to tell all you know,--or you’ll be an exceedingly sorry little Violet. Take it from me, my dear,--if you hold back this information another minute, you’ll be--put in the lockup!”

Bob breathed the last three words in a menacing whisper, with a sudden change from a smiling face to a lowering, threatening countenance, and so effective was his manner that Violet jumped in sudden terror.

“Yes,” Bob rubbed it in, “in the lockup,--the jail! No place for pretty little girls,--all stone walls, and bread and water, and--rats.”

A shriek from the frightened Violet told of her surrender, and with a return of his suavity, Bob said: “Out with it now,--my dear. Tell the story you’re holding back. Does it implicate somebody else?”

“Yes,--that’s it, sir. She’ll kill me!”

“Oh, no, she won’t. Hurry up, Violet, the lockup yawns for you!”

“Well,” she looked fearfully at both men, but started in on the tale:

“It was Tessie. She--she went out last evening--”

“Was it her evening out?”

“Oh, yes, sir. But we’re ordered to be in by eleven o’clock at the latest,--ten, unless we’ve arranged about it beforehand. Well,--Tessie,--she--”

“Get on,” said Kinney, impatiently, “Tessie overstaid her time. How late was she?”

“Oh,--she--it was after one o’clock!”

“My, my, that _is_ shocking!” Bob exclaimed. “It’s as much as her place is worth!”

“Indeed it is,” Violet agreed.

“Get on,” growled Kinney. “What did she see?”

“She was so late, she crept in under the side gate,--a slim girl can just do it,--and then she watched when Gideon was out of the way, to run into the cellar door,--the one Gideon uses, and she knew she could get in. So, while she was waiting for the old man to get around to the other side of the house, she was looking about, and up on the balcony,--outside the room Mr. Curran had, she saw two people. They were Mr. Curran and a lady.”

“Who was the lady?” Kinney shot out.

“Mrs. Knox,” Violet said, frightened into an immediate reply by Kinney’s scowl.

Angel gave a short, low whistle.

“Violet,” he said, “if you ever tell that to another soul, I’ll kill you,--do you hear? Yes, I _can_ do it. I didn’t kill Mr. Curran, but I could kill a person if I wanted to, and so sure as you breathe that to any one, I’ll kill _you_! See?”

“Yes, sir,” murmured Violet, trembling. “I won’t tell, if you won’t tell on me!”

“That your friend was out late? No, I won’t tell that.”

“Think a minute, Mr. Baldwin,” and Kinney looked at him patronizingly, “this isn’t this girl’s secret. It was Tessie who saw the lady, Tessie who told Violet of it,--and who has probably told all the rest of the servants by this time.”

“Yes, I think she has,” said Violet, casually.

Angel swore softly to himself. He was decidedly interested in the pretty, vixenish Anna, and of all people, he hated to have her name brought into this horrible affair.

“Of course,” he said, after a pause, “Mrs. Knox had no hand in the tragedy, she knows nothing of the crime,--if there was a crime,--so, Kinney, can’t we suppress this bit of gossip? I can square the servants, if you’ll promise not to use the story at all.”

“Can’t do that, Mr. Baldwin. But, if, as you say, Mrs. Knox is not implicated in the case, it can do her no great harm to have it known that she strolled on the balcony in the moonlight at one o’clock. That’s not a very late hour.”

“N-no,--but that isn’t the point. I happen to know that the Knoxes went to their rooms shortly after twelve. If Mrs. Knox left her room again,--oh, pshaw,--let’s forget it.”

“I see; if she left her room again,--it was without the knowledge of her husband,--they had separate rooms?”

“Yes,” said Bob, sullenly.

“Adjoining?”

“Bath between.”

“Oh, ho! So, the lady could leave,--her room gives onto the balcony?”

“I won’t tell you any more. You’re building up a scandal out of what you said yourself was merely an innocent moonlight stroll. I refuse to help you drag a lovely lady into this unpleasant affair.”

“Oh, I don’t need your help. Run along, Violet, you’ve done your duty. Always tell all you know, when the Law demands it. Run away, now.”

Violet went away, and her attitude was rather that of an important witness, than of one who had testified against her will.

Without another word to the furious Angel, Kinney went in search of Tessie. With a few decisive commands, in the name of the Law, he reduced her to a state of abject obedience.

She told the story, much as Violet had related it, but she went into a mass of elaborate detail,--so elaborate, that Kinney suspected a vivid imagination, in good working order.

“Yes, sir,” Tessie said, rolling her eyes, as if enjoying her part, “yes, sir, it was Mrs. Knox,--I know her well. She had on a bee-yooutiful gown,--dressing-gown,--what they call negglegy, you know.”

“You could discern that?”

“Oh, yes, I could see the lace ruffles, and the teeny-weeny rosebuds on it. All ribbony, and chiffony and floaty about.”

Tessie’s expressive hands waved in illustration of floating draperies, and so realistic was she, that Kinney felt she must have seen what she described.

“They walked up and down the balcony?”

“No,--that is they did for a minute, then they sat on the balcony rail and looked at the moon. They sat mighty close together, too.”

Again the rolling eyes betokened a deep interest and appreciation. Clearly, Tessie was romantic by nature.

“And then?”

“Then, Gideon got out of the way, and I skittled into the house, through his area door, and hustled up to my own room. So that’s all I know about those two.”

Bob Baldwin went back to the library, where the men of the house were assembled.

All except Knox, who wasn’t there, and his absence gave Bob an opportunity to speak of what was in his mind.

“I say, fellows,” he began, “it’s up to all of us to speak out frankly. I admit that when we all boasted how easy it would be to kill a man, and then when one is killed right here among us,--I admit, it looks queer for us all, and it ought to be understood that if there’s anything--anything at all against any of us, it is to be spoken of and thrashed out.”

“Right, Angel,” Mears said, “and as a starter, I’ll tell that you have been hinted at.”

“By whom?” and Bob’s question was serious.

“Well, since we’re all to speak out in meetin’,--by Ned Knox.”

Angel sighed and looked grave.

“As he is the one I want to speak about, perhaps our stories will dovetail.”

And then, to his friends and cronies, Valentine Loft and Roly Mears, Bob told the story of Tessie’s observations, as retailed by Violet.

“I knew Anna was making a dead set for him,” Loft said, moodily. “What a flirt she is! She didn’t care two cents for Curran, really, he was just a new man for her wiles to work on. She is a vain little featherhead--”

“Hold, there, Loft,--I’m fond of Anna,” Bob said with utter frankness. “Don’t treat her rough.”

“All right, Angel. But, seriously, if the maid’s story is true, and why should we doubt it, then Anna did sneak out to the balcony,--probably after Ned was snoring,--and had her clandestine flirtation with Curran. Now, if Ned awoke, trailed her, and discovered them,--it would--he would kill Curran quicker’n a wink.”

Kinney had entered, and heard this last statement.

The detective told the men such further details as he had learned from Tessie, which, of course, was the information that Anna was _en negligée_, and that the two miscreants sat close together on the balcony rail.

“Not hard to believe of Anna,” Mears declared, “nor of Curran, either. And no harm done, except in view of later developments. But suppose Ned did do the irate husband act, how did he get that deadly poison, how did he get in and out of Curran’s room, and why did he take Curran’s watch?”

“I know!” cried Roly. “It was Anna’s picture in the back of the watch!”

“Nonsense! Anna met Curran for the first time, last evening.”

“Anna’s cute enough to pretend anything.” This from Loft. “That woman’s a--forgive me, Angel,--but she is as sly and cunning as they come. I can’t puzzle out the ways and means,--but there’s that difficulty with any theory or assumption. Also, I won’t even think wrong of Ned Knox, until he has a chance to speak for himself, but I do say this must be looked into.”

“I think the worst against Knox,” Roly put in, “is the way he tried to implicate Angel to me. He hinted at Bob’s being the murderer,--because, forsooth, he heard Bob and Curran quarreling over something in Curran’s room.”

“That was at half-past twelve,” said Bob, “and after one, Tessie saw Curran, evidently very much alive.”

“But it was a good tack for Knox to take, to divert suspicion from himself,” Roly said, thoughtfully.