CHAPTER VIII

A CLEAR CASE

When we had done examining the servants, these were the undisputed facts that emerged: Mrs. Breese was last seen alive at about ten minutes after ten, and discovered dead at half-past ten. No shot was heard. There were fifteen servants in the house at the time, Mr. Thomas, the Countess and young Henry Breese. No visitors had called during the evening. This fact was confirmed by the butler and by the Japanese footman who answered the bell. There had, in fact, been no visitors at all during the day.

We returned to the drawing-room to find Mr. Thomas awaiting us. I could not at first recognize him. His hair was dishevelled, his eyes bloodshot.

“My name’s Smith, I’m with the police here. I just want to ask you a few questions, Mr. Thomas.”

Thomas did not seem to hear him. His eyes were fixed upon the outstretched figure of Mrs. Breese.

“What do you want to know?” he managed to say finally. His hands were trembling visibly.

“Now take it easy,” Smith placated him. “I know this must be a terrible shock to you, and I don’t want to make it any harder. This is just a matter of routine.”

Thomas looked up quickly, with relief, I thought. He breathed easier.

“I don’t know a thing--not a thing,” he assured us.

“As I understand it,” began Smith, “you and Mrs. Breese were alone in this room after dinner. Mrs. Breese received a telephone call from Mr. Rice. What happened then, Mr. Thomas?”

“Why--nothing happened. I went upstairs while she was talking to Rice--I went upstairs to write a letter. Just when I’d gotten through, the butler ran up to tell me what had happened. It was an awful blow to me. I can’t realize yet it’s true.” He stared as if fascinated at the outstretched body.

“You heard no sound upstairs?”

“No--nothing.”

“When the butler ran up to tell you the news, what did you do?”

“Why--I sent him to fetch a policeman at once!”

“You didn’t think a doctor was necessary?”

“No. He said she was--dead.”

“He may have been excited. Surely you went down to investigate.”

Thomas squirmed.

“No--I didn’t. I couldn’t--I couldn’t go in that room alone. My nerves wouldn’t stand it.”

Smith made careful notes of his answers. He was about to proceed when the door bell pealed. The native policeman returned with Gordon Rice. The promoter stamped into the room and then stopped short at the sight of the body. His eyes were red with rage as he swung at Thomas.

“Well, what have you got to say for yourself?” he barked.

“What have I----?”

“Yes!” Rice shouted. “Don’t stand there pretending innocence! You’re not that good an actor!”

“Just a minute,” intervened Smith. “I’m conducting this inquiry.”

“Then it’s high time you knew the facts,” snapped Rice. He turned to us. “I always knew this man was a weakling and a rotter, but I didn’t think he was a murderer.”

“I say, I say!” the actor stammered in his fright. His face was white.

“You accuse this man of killing Mrs. Breese?” Smith demanded.

“Yes, I do!”

Now the actor looked from one to the other of us like a stricken animal. He tried to say something, but couldn’t.

“On what ground?”

“Here are the facts, if you want them.”

“I want them very much,” Smith said.

“Look here----” interrupted the actor.

“You’ll have every opportunity,” Smith assured him, “to make any answer you want.” The actor slumped into a chair, keeping his eyes fixed now upon Rice, watching his every move.

“I’ve just been to see Mr. Breese,” Rice began.

“As you may know, I was Mrs. Breese’s business adviser and friend. I’m frank to say I never liked this man personally. I strenuously objected when Mrs. Breese said she proposed marrying him. However, I’m fair enough, I think, not to make any accusation on prejudice. I’ve got facts! And I want to present them right to his face. I don’t do anything underhanded.” The actor had risen and drawn nearer. Rice reached into his pocket and produced a sheaf of telegrams.

“About a week ago, Mr. Breese came to me. We hadn’t been on very good terms since the trial, but we buried the hatchet. I told Breese to make every effort to patch things up. I felt, just as he did, that it would be a calamity for Mrs. Breese to marry this man. Breese asked me what to do. Of course, we never suspected anything like this!” He shook his head. “It’s a wonder to me I can still think straight. I’ve never had a shock like this before. Well--I advised Breese to wire a certain detective agency, the Burns people, and get all the facts on this young man. We thought if we had the facts, Dora--Mrs. Breese--would see things straight. And since we knew we were playing against time, the agency was instructed to wire us the minute they got anything. Well, they got plenty. Look at this!”

Without further comment, Rice extended the following telegrams. I reproduce them herewith:

HENRY BREESE SEVILLA BILTMORE HAVANA

ACTING YOUR INSTRUCTIONS YOUR PARTY (GUY THOMAS) RESIDES THREE FORTY FIVE WEST FORTY FIFTH STREET STOP FLAT NOW OCCUPIED BY MISS BELINDA SAUNDERS CHORUS GIRL STOP MISS SAUNDERS DESCRIBES SELF AS PARTYS FIANCEE STOP AGENT THIRTY SIX ENGAGING MISS SAUNDERS IN CONVERSATION LEARNED YOUR PARTY WIRED MISS SAUNDERS TO BE PREPARED SAIL FOR GRAND TOUR EUROPE SOON STOP

WILLIAMS

HENRY BREESE SEVILLA BILTMORE HAVANA

YOUR PARTY WAS PHONED BY MISS SAUNDERS AND INFORMED SHE WAS READY TO DEPART EUROPE STOP YOUR PARTY SAID DELAY HAD ARISEN STOP MISS SAUNDERS PROVOKED SAID WOULDNT DELAY STOP YOUR PARTY INFORMED HER HE WOULD HAVE LOTS OF MONEY IF SHED WAIT STOP MISS SAUNDERS THREATENED SUE BREACH OF PROMISE ON RUMOUR REACHING NEW YORK YOUR PARTY ABOUT TO MARRY WEALTHY WOMAN STOP WIRING FURTHER

WILLIAMS

HENRY BREESE SEVILLA BILTMORE HAVANA

YOUR PARTY SENT WIRE MISS SAUNDERS BE PREPARED LEAVE IMMEDIATELY STOP WILL MEET HER PARIS STOP

WILLIAMS

“That’s not all,” continued Rice. “As Mrs. Breese’s business adviser--I’ve been handling all her affairs for months--I receive all cancelled checks from her bank. This morning the National City called me up. I went down to see them. The cashier showed me a check for ten thousand dollars made out to this man and signed presumably by Mrs. Breese. It had come through the mails, with a letter signed by this man, instructing the bank to deposit this money to his account in Paris. Mr. Wilkins--the cashier--questioned the signature. It seemed an obvious forgery to him. I agreed with him.

“I took the check and the letter and came here. Unfortunately Mrs. Breese and this young man were out, so I left them in an envelope with a note for Mrs. Breese, and put the envelope on this table. I had several engagements and couldn’t get in touch with Mrs. Breese until after dinner. Then I called her up and asked her if she’d gotten my note. She hadn’t. She knew nothing about it. Then I asked her if she had made out a check for ten thousand dollars to Thomas, and she knew nothing about that! Naturally she was upset and angry. And an hour later I’m called at the American Ministry and told she’s been murdered. There are the facts!”

The actor had been striving vainly to interrupt him. Now he burst forth: “It’s a lie--I didn’t forge any check. I don’t know anything about it.”

“Then where’s the letter I left?” demanded Rice. “I left it right on this table. You found it and tore it up, didn’t you? Tore up all the evidence! Then, when Mrs. Breese accused you of it, you lost your head and killed her. You didn’t think you’d be found out, did you?”

“But I don’t know anything about a check! I never wrote a check!” The actor turned to me pleadingly. Rice snorted impatiently. “There’s a mistake,” the actor wailed weakly. “I never wrote that check. Why should I?”

“To get money so you could run off to Europe!”

“But I didn’t need that money!”

“So you admit,” Rice was triumphantly inquisitorial, “that you were running off to Europe with this girl in New York!”

“And what if I was?” demanded the actor. “There’s nothing wrong in that. I was sick to death of this place. I didn’t want to marry Mrs. Breese!”

“Just a minute,” Smith intervened. “You say, Mr. Thomas, that you were making plans to go to Europe. Where did you expect to get the money for your trip?”

The actor paused, looked at Smith and then, truculently: “Mrs. Breese was giving it to me.”

“That’s news to me,” snapped Rice. “And I’m her business adviser. I’d know if she was going to give you money.”

“Just why,” Smith demanded, “should Mrs. Breese give you that money? I think I ought to warn you, Mr. Thomas, that frankness may save you a lot of trouble at this time.”

Thomas glared sullenly at Rice.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” he said. “I was getting tired of hanging around here where everybody looked on me as a poor relation. I told Mrs. Breese I wanted to get out. I said I needed some money, and she said she’d give it to me.”

“A very generous woman,” said Smith.

“Well, I stuck to her during the trial!” Thomas defended himself. “I had letters she wrote me that would have looked very bad. I played square with her and she appreciated it. She offered to settle twenty-five thousand dollars on me when I left here.”

“When did she decide to do that?” demanded Smith.

“Tonight--after dinner. She was very nice about it, too. I told her about Miss Saunders, and she wished me luck! I guess I’ve got nothing to hide. You can’t do anything to me. I’ve played square.” His voice rose righteously.

Rice laughed. “That’s a swell defence,” he said. “You didn’t forget the check. You were blackmailing her. Well, as a matter of fact, Mr. Wilkins at the National City Bank can testify to the check. He spotted it.” He turned on Smith. “I’ve had enough of this nasty business. I can’t stand here looking at him much longer. I’ll be upstairs with the children if you should want me.”

Rice left us, and we could hear his heavy footsteps stamping up the stairs.

After a pause, Smith said quietly: “Well, Mr. Thomas, what have you got to say for yourself?”

“Nothing!” rasped the actor. “Nothing!”

“Do you deny that you forged that check?” demanded Smith.

“I don’t know anything about a check,” Thomas shouted. “I’ve told you, haven’t I?”

“Do you expect me to believe, Mr. Thomas, that Mrs. Breese voluntarily and cheerfully offered to pay you money so you could marry this Miss Saunders?”

“I don’t care what you believe.”

“Very well,” said Smith quietly. “It’s my duty to tell you, Mr. Thomas, that in all my experience I have never seen a clearer case of circumstantial evidence. You killed Mrs. Breese.”