Part 2

“Swear Ross Craighead,” said the coroner, who did not know whether he was to be bored with a lot of insurance statistics or was to face a drama not yet unfolded.

The buzz of conversation in the courtroom ceased as Ross took the stand. No one knew in what direction the inquest was tending. Even to the coroner this long rehearsal of symptoms without any avowed purpose seemed unnecessarily delayed. Inspector Craven’s presence puzzled him. He did not especially relish having the police oversee his conduct of an inquest. He asked rather curtly that the proceedings be hastened.

“Mr. Craighead,” began the lawyer, “were you with your father in his last hours?”

“I was,” answered Ross, sadly.

“Did you purchase the medicines administered to him?”

“No, sir,” was the reply. “He was very querulous if I left his side. When I dozed off, he often called me just to talk. He felt the loss of his activity so much it was pitiful. Miss Prettyman, who loved him almost as much as I did, for we were always together, never minded going out for whatever he wanted, day or night.”

“I should say not,” muttered the inspector grimly to Doctor Jarvis.

“Now,” pursued the lawyer, obedient to the doctor’s prompting, “how did your father die? I do not want to deepen your pain, but we must get at some understanding of the exact cause of your father’s death.”

“Well,” answered Ross, wearily, “he insisted on taking opiates; he knew how to take a hypodermic himself, but he took some other drug, heroin, perhaps. He was not a drug addict, but he often said that he would take anything to drown pain. It happened like a flash. I did not know that blood poison could travel so fast. The night he died he took an opiate and seemed drowsy, so that I said I would lie down for a moment or two. He took a bottle in which was a colorless liquid and poured some of it into a glass of milk. He was half asleep then, so I went to my room while he was drinking it, for he often took a glass of milk in that fashion. I had had very little sleep for two or three days and dozed off at once with all my clothing on. I could not have slept more than a quarter of an hour when I was awakened by a crash. It was the crash of breaking glass, as I learned an instant later. I rushed into his room to see him breathing his last. He had overturned the table on which were the bottles of medicine. But what a terrible sight greeted my eyes! His hands, arms, legs twitched and shot out from second to second, then before I could even call for help he had a convulsion and died. I called Dr. Lawson. It seemed an eternity before he answered. Miss Prettyman had heard my cries and she was with me. Dr. Lawson asked if he had taken anything besides the medicine he had prescribed. I said yes, he had taken a hypodermic and some other opiate.

“The hopeless fool,” he cried. “I warned him against that very thing. He practically killed himself. The shock of the operation was enough at one time.”

When he reached the house, he said it was too late to do anything.

“Did you look at the bottles on the floor?” asked the lawyer.

“Yes, sir,” replied Ross. “They were all thrown together in a broken heap--they had been on a small table at his bedside. In his struggles, he must have overturned them. Oh, it was terrible, terrible.” Here, the young man buried his head in his arms, shaking with the power of his emotions.

“Inspector,” said Dr. Jarvis, “that young man was describing a death from strychnine poisoning. We must find out where that strychnine came from. Look at that girl now!”

The inspector followed his gaze to where Tessie sat. She was obviously horror stricken. A look of despair crept into her face as she followed Ross’s descent from the stand. Ross was about to go to her side but at a sign from the inspector an officer took him by the arm, leading him to a chair near the inspector. His heart sank as he caught that look of despair on the girl’s face.

* * * * *

Every actor in the drama was apparently in court. Dr. Jarvis had caught the inspector’s fever for a man hunt. It was now a cold problem of science. He was not a judge, merely an instrument of justice. No longer was there a thought in his mind, any more than in that of the inspector, that any person should be shielded. He was going, from now on, to let the chips fall where they would.

“Inspector,” he said, “the whole situation now depends on how much that girl knows. I am going to ask Mr. Bailey to put me on the stand. I see exactly how the affair was managed, but I haven’t the slightest idea of who planned or executed it. Anyway, when I get through, if Ross or Tessie had any hand in it, they will talk better than if they were subjected to the third degree. I am talking of murder now; when I am through, it will be your affair to bring the guilty person to justice.”

“H’m,” mused the inspector a second, as if in doubt, then posted his men with orders to let no one leave the court room until he gave the signal. “There might be others,” he reflected, “so why not bag them all?”

Dr. Jarvis now stepped to the table where counsel and doctors sat. After a few whispered words, Mr. Bailey rose to his feet.

“Mr. Coroner,” he said, “one of our most prominent physicians, an acknowledged authority and the closest friend of the deceased, is our next witness. His testimony may clear up some of our difficulties.”

The pursued rarely are ignorant that they are pursued. As the lawyer concluded his announcement, Tessie half rose to her feet, but an officer forced her back into her chair. She realized then, that she was in custody. She had indeed, divined before that the inquest had taken a threatening turn. Ross dully watched the progress of events thinking how he might shield her from persecution. Lovers are impersonal. The world is outside. To him, Jim Craighead was still alive. Suspicion did not enter his mind. It did not occur to him that he might be suspected of murder. Still less did he conceive that anyone would accuse of complicity in a murder, the girl, who to him, was the impersonation of innocence. That a net of some evil omen was weaving about them was too evident to be ignored. Its nature, however, was a mystery to him. Yet when the doctor, a man whom he knew for the devoted friend of his foster father and, as he thought, also of himself, got on the stand and began to speak in that sure, even voice, which seemed to brook no contradiction, he looked somewhat hopefully at that dynamic figure. The doctor was a tall, slender man, athletic and erect in appearance, with a firm, intellectual face.

Dr. Jarvis was sworn. He was then examined on his various degrees, his experience, his scientific and other studies. Mr. Bailey, instead of asking a series of questions, requested him to give any testimony that might throw light on the death of Jim Craighead.

“I would like you to bear patiently with what I have to say,” began Dr. Jarvis, “interrupting, if you like, when I have not been sufficiently clear, for whatever questions you may care to put.

“Singularly enough, the mysterious death of the best friend I have ever known ceases to be a mystery through a remarkable scientific discovery which I must rehearse briefly. It is the relative size of the smallest bodies known to science. The structure of the atom has been analyzed. The atom is the smallest particle of matter which can exist independently. The elements which enter into the atom have no existence apart from the atom. The atom is the smallest particle of matter which can enter into the structure of the molecule. But it is not indestructible. It has been broken up into its elements. These consist of outer circulatory electrons which are negative charges of electricity and a core or nucleus composed of positively charged protons and some electrons, all in balance. These electrons are in constant motion within the atom, revolving about the nucleus much as the planets revolve about the sun.

“Now, this discovery led to the measurements of these tiny particles. Science wanted to learn more about the relative masses of atoms and molecules. The electron is about one thousandth the volume of the hydrogen atom. Do not think this is all a pedantic discussion. You will see in a very few moments how very practical it all is.

“The atom,” continued Dr. Jarvis, “is invisible under the most powerful microscope. The molecule is larger, but defies the microscope. But, having gone thus far, science had to go further. The next larger mass after the molecule, is the colloid. A colloid is a formless substance classified as a slime. It never takes a definite form like the crystalline substances. Solutions of gold can be made in the two forms--there is a colloidal gold and a crystalline gold.”

A look of stupefaction was on the faces of the inspector, the coroner and all that vast throng in the courtroom. Yet a pin could have been heard, had it dropped during that tense silence. Back of these mystic words an enigma lay. That the doctor would clear it up, his easy self assurance seemed to guarantee.

“Even the colloid practically battles the microscope. In the ordinary atmosphere, merely cloudy impressions can be obtained. How then is the presence of any of these tiny particles discovered? It is very simple, when the method is disclosed. The colloid cannot be seen, but it makes a shadow on an electric spark as it passes by. So when the presence of a colloid is suspected, its shadow on an electric spark betrays it.”

“Pardon me, Doctor, for interrupting you,” broke in the bewildered Mr. Bailey, “but if this discussion has any bearing on the death of Jim Craighead, I would like to know, if these particles you are talking about, are so small that they cannot be seen with the strongest microscope, how it helps you any to know they make a shadow on an electric spark. In fact, how do you know they make a shadow on an electric spark?”

* * * * *

“You may have read at times, Mr. Bailey,” replied the doctor, “announcements that astronomers had located a star known through mathematical calculations to be at some point in the heavens, which the telescope has been unable to penetrate. Well, the speed of light, which is 186,000 miles a second, helps us. A photograph of the heavens will sometimes reveal something which the eye could not see. So, a photographic plate will sometimes catch the smaller particles as well as the largest stars, too far away to be seen.

“If you consider the light as moving in waves it is easier to understand what effect light waves have on these discoveries. Artificial light travels in waves farther apart than in the case of natural light. The waves of this kind of light are so far apart that the colloid or small microbe can lie between the waves and make no impression on the eye or on the photographic plate.” The doctor here took a sheet of paper and hastily made a sketch which he showed to the jurors and the coroner.

Artificial light waves:

[Illustration: Sine Wave 1]

“The waves of natural light are closer together, but still too far apart to catch much of the smallest germs, like that of cancer, or the colloid, to advantage.” The doctor made another sketch.

Natural light waves:

[Illustration: Sine Wave 2]

“In natural light, under the microscope, it is at times possible to get a hazy impression which conveys little information. But it has been found possible to use the ultra-violet waves which are shorter than natural light waves in a vacuum and thus to get a photograph of particles too short to be caught in ordinary light.” Here the doctor made his final drawing.

Ultra-violet waves:

[Illustration: Sine Wave 3]

“Thus a shadow thrown on a spark of an ultra-violet ray in a vacuum will be recorded on a photograph of the phenomenon. The discovery of the Becquerel Rays, the X-rays and the various rays known as “gamma,” etc., were all stepping stones to our knowledge of the tiniest particles. Compared with electrons, atoms and molecules, the colloid is relatively large.

“A photograph would show the presence of a colloid without great difficulty. Now, what is the relation of the colloid to the problem we are trying to solve? During the world war, things were learned which were mothered by necessity. Surgery had to be not only quick but effective. While what is known as the shock of an operation is due to a toxic condition, it is not what is technically known as blood poison. It is definitely the shock of the operation. In the world war it was learned that the shock of the operation was due to the absorption or infiltration of certain toxic or poisonous substances which belong to the colloid family.

“It was observed that if the haemostats were removed from a wounded member, which had been amputated, the condition of shock immediately was noticeable. This led to the conclusion that the haemostats kept out something which could enter when they were removed. The inevitable conclusion which followed was that the cause of shock was something which could not pass through an animal membrane or tissue, such as the walls of the blood vessels. Experiments have shown that while crystalline molecules would pass readily enough through a parchment filter the colloids remained behind.

“So, if a wound is made perfectly sterile and haemostats are used to seal the wound hermetically, the colloid poisons are excluded and, as they could not penetrate an animal membrane, the sealing of the wound effectually prevents the condition known as shock which so often is the fatal result of an operation. The tiny colloid, first known by its shadow on a spark, cannot enter the blood stream if the wound of amputation is sealed.

“The lessons of the world war showed that the wall cells of the blood vessels, the arteries, veins and capillaries present a compact and effective barrier to the passage of the colloidal poisons which cause death. Can you see now where we have arrived? Dr. Lawson has said that Mr. Craighead’s death was due to poisons which seeped in through the wall cells of the blood vessels. But in this long and perhaps tiresome explanation I have shown this to be impossible. Jim Craighead did not die of the shock of the operation. Dr. Lawson is positive that the wound was perfectly clean, that it was impossible for infection to have entered at the point of amputation.

“If it was impossible there, it was impossible elsewhere. So, if Jim Craighead did not die of the shock, he died of something else. It was not blood poison, for it would not have acted on a man of Craighead’s strength and perfect health, in so short a time. His death was due neither to blood poison nor to shock. Of what, then, did he die? Symptoms tell us clearly enough. Craighead’s son describes in untechnical language, symptoms which point almost unerringly to the fact that Craighead died of poison, administered to him. That poison, I assert was strychnine.”

Had a thunderbolt destroyed the cupola on a nearby building and caused it to crash in on them, or had a boy rushed in crying that a tidal wave was rushing up Broadway, the excitement could not have been greater. The girl was crushed. Was it guilt that could be read in her terrified features? The coroner’s jury, which a few minutes earlier was ready to render a verdict of death due to an operation, was now anxious to recommend the arrest of a murderer.

* * * * *

For a few seconds the atmosphere of the court room was tense--no whispers broke the silence, but eyes moved restlessly to the actors in the drama. The girl under guard, almost terror stricken, looked across beseechingly at her lover. The youth returned her gaze, nodding encouragingly. Every word spoken by the doctor had burned his soul. His steady, calm exterior encouraged the girl and she grew calmer.

This ominous silence was broken by the coroner.

“Dr. Jarvis,” he said, “the fact of poisoning can readily be established by an autopsy. If it reveals, as you assert, the presence of poison, arrests must follow.”

“Yes, if after the autopsy, you find the guilty one who, being warned, would flee,” cried the inspector, who had followed the conclusions of Dr. Jarvis and decided upon his course of action. “While you are looking for proofs which you are certain to find, if Dr. Jarvis is not mistaken, and he does not talk like a man who is mistaken, I will take the precaution of arresting Ross Craighead, on the charge of poisoning or being an accessory to the poisoning of his father.”

“What a foul lie!” cried the youth, leaping toward the inspector, with whom he would have grappled like a wild beast, had not the police interceded. After a violent struggle he was manacled so that he could threaten no more harm. The inspector was unmoved by this demonstration. He was calculating the girl must move. Either she would remain calm, as might be expected of Piggy Bill’s “sweetie,” or she would try to save Ross. His calculation was perfect. Ross had not yet been subdued when the girl’s voice could be heard above the tumult. Terror and dismay mingled in her cry. She rose to her feet and began to speak. An officer grasped her arm to force her back into her chair, but the inspector motioned him to release her. He spoke to her across the room.

“Whatever you say, Tessie, will be used against you,” he said. “Do you want to take the stand again? Perhaps you had better talk to a lawyer?

“No, no,” she cried wildly, “I will tell you everything I know. I did not understand what it all meant until Dr. Jarvis had explained. Now I see it all and it is too horrible. That boy you accuse, Ross--you do not know him. He couldn’t kill a rabbit. He would run his car off a bridge to keep from hitting a stray cat. He nearly wrecked us once to avoid hitting a dog. You can do anything to me if he is cleared. But I never committed murder. I can’t bear suffering in others--I suffer as much as the one I see in pain. But who is going to believe me, now?”

Slowly she moved to the witness box, where she took the oath again.

“Miss Prettyman,” said Mr. Bailey, “tell us all the facts you know in connection with Mr. Craighead’s death. Tell us particularly where you obtained any of the drugs administered to him during the period following his operation.”

“It is true,” Tessie began, “that I bought all the drugs which Mr. Craighead needed. All the prescriptions were filled by the Groves pharmacy. There were two or three for digitalis and one or two for antiseptic washes. There was another prescription which I must describe. The day before Mr. Craighead died I went to the prison to see Bill Hovey.”

The inspector whispered quickly to Mr. Bailey, beside whom he had taken a chair. The lawyer now saw his cue. The girl was to be sweated. In far harsher terms than the inspector used for the third degree, he shot out:

“How many times did you go to see this Bill Hovey?”

“Twice, the day before Mr. Craighead died,” she answered dully.

“Bill Hovey, in the parlance of the underworld, is your ‘sweetie,’ is he not?” pursued the lawyer.

“You filthy cad,” burst from Ross, who tried unavailingly to break his manacles.

“You’ll be gagged, if you don’t keep quiet,” said one of his guards. But the inspector turned and motioned for silence.

“Mr. Bailey,” replied the girl, with dignity and resentment, “Bill Hovey is a man who, I have learned lately, has committed many wrongs, but he is fifty-two years old and I am twenty-two. He never was my ‘sweetie,’ as you call him, since you are so well acquainted with the underworld; he is my stepfather.”

There was a murmur of approval from the spectators, who obviously did not like the way the examination was conducted. Inspector Craven leaned toward Dr. Jarvis.

“Say, Doc,” he whispered, “I’m beginning to see light. We’re only getting started. How about you?”

“Did Mr. Craighead and Ross Craighead know that your stepfather was in prison?” asked Mr. Bailey.

“When Ross Craighead first asked me to dinner at their home,” answered Tessie, “I knew that he was showing me serious attention. After dinner, I told Mr. Craighead that I had only come so that I could talk to him more freely than was possible in the office; I told him that my stepfather was a drug addict and in prison for having drugs; that he was an educated man, but of no account, and that he always had plenty of money, although we never knew him to work. Still he never was mean to us and I saw little of him after my mother died. Recently I had not seen him. The last time he saw me he told me he was not as ‘flush’ as he had been. All this I told Mr. Craighead, thanking him for his kindness. Then I intended to leave. But he and Ross refused to let me go at all. They said it was bad enough to have the father’s sins visited on the heads of their children, without taking in the stepchildren, too.”

* * * * *

Prompted by the Inspector, Mr. Bailey continued his questions.

“Why,” he asked, “did you go to see Bill Hovey the day before Mr. Craighead died?”

“I should not have gone at all,” replied Tessie, “if Mr. Craighead had not requested it. He sent me out a couple of times to a druggist with an old prescription for narcotics--morphine--and the druggist refused to fill it. He knew Dr. Lawson had forbidden it and was afraid. Then the pain got so bad that Mr. Craighead tossed about moaning all the time. His tossing only made the pain worse, so he called me early in the morning.

“‘Tessie,’ he said, ‘do you mind going to that no account stepfather of yours? Ask him if he can tell you where to get some morphine. Those fellows always know where it is to be had. Just say that you want to do me a good turn--that I am in great pain.’