Ashton-Kirk, Investigator Part 14

Sams threw the towel from him and sat down upon the bed.

"A murder!" said he, his eyes and mouth wide open. "Well, what do you know about that." He sat looking from one to the other of them, dazedly, for a s.p.a.ce; then he resumed: "Say, I thought there was something queer about that stunt of hers!"

"Tell us about it," suggested Ashton-Kirk, crossing his legs and clasping one knee with his hands.

The cabby considered once more.

"There's lots of things that a guy like me sees that look off color,"

he said, at length; "but we can't always pa.s.s any remarks about them.

It would be bad for business, you see. But this murder thing's a different proposition, and here's where I tell it all. Last night while I was waiting in front of McCausland's, I hears an automobile turn into the street. It was some time after I got there. I wouldn't have paid much attention to it, but you see there's a fellow been trying to get my work with a taxicab, and I thought it was him."

"And it wasn't?"

"No, it was a private car--a Maillard, and there was a woman driving it."

The chair upon which Pendleton sat was an infirm one; it creaked sharply as he made a sudden movement.

"She was going at a low speed," proceeded Sams, "and as she pa.s.sed Hume's I noticed her look up at the windows. After she disappeared there wasn't a sound for a while. You see, n.o.body hardly ever pa.s.ses through Christie Place after one o'clock. Then I hears her coming back. This time she stopped the car, got out and went to the door that leads into Hume's place. There she stopped a little, as though she didn't know whether to go in or not. But at last she went in."

Pendleton coughed huskily at this point; and his friend glancing at him saw that his face was white.

"And up to that time," said Ashton-Kirk, "are you sure that there was no movement--no sound--in the front room at Hume's?"

"As far as I noticed, there wasn't. But a few minutes after I heard the woman go in, I _did_ hear some sounds."

The man stroked his shaven jaws in the deliberate manner of a person about to precipitate a crisis. Pendleton leaned toward him, anxiously.

"What sort of sounds?" he asked.

"There were two," replied the cab driver. "The first was a revolver shot; the second came right after, and was a kind of a scream--like that of a parrot."

"And what then?" asked Ashton-Kirk, easily.

"There wasn't anything for a few minutes, anyway. But the revolver shot had kind of got my attention, so I was taking notice of the windows. Then suddenly I caught sight of the woman. You see, the gas-light was near the window and she kind of leaned over and turned it out. It was only for a time as long as that," and the man snapped his fingers. "But I saw her plain. Then I heard her coming down the stairs to the street--almost at a run. She banged the street door shut after her, jumped into her car and went tearing away as if she was crazy. I stayed fifteen minutes before I got a fare; but nothing else happened."

Pendleton's hand closed hard on the edge of the chair he sat in. There was a moment's silence; then Ashton-Kirk asked:

"Just where was your cab standing at this time?"

"Right in front of McCausland's door."

"And you were on the box?"

"Yes."

The investigator put a piece of money in the man's hand as he and Pendleton arose and prepared to go.

"Say," said Sam curiously, "I've been in bed all day and ain't heard a word of anything. Who's been done up?"

"Hume. Stabbed in the chest."

"Shot, you mean."

"No, I mean stabbed. With a bayonet."

The man stared wonderingly.

"G'way," he said.

They bid him good-day and tramped down the three long flights to the street. Pendleton was silent, and walked with his head held down.

"We have more than an hour of good daylight left," said his friend, as they reached the street. "And as I must have a good unrestricted look at Hume's apartments before everything is hopelessly changed about, suppose we go there now. We can get a taxi in the next street."

"Just a moment," said Pendleton. "Before we take another step in the matter, Kirk, I must ask a question."

Ashton-Kirk put his hand upon his friend's shoulder.

"Don't," said he. "I know just what the question would be, and at the present time I can't answer it. At this moment, except for some few theories that I have yet to verify, I am as much puzzled as yourself."

"But," and there was a tremble in the speaker's voice, "you must answer me, old chap--and you must answer now."

The catch in his voice, the expression upon the young man's face caused Ashton-Kirk to grasp an astonis.h.i.+ng fact. The hand that he had laid upon Pendleton's shoulder tightened as he answered:

"Yes, Edyth Vale is concerned. As a rule I do not speak of my clients to others, but in view of what you have already heard and seen, it would be a waste of words to deny it. But, see here, there are lots of things we don't know yet about this business. It may look very different in a few hours. Come."

Pendleton gazed with sober eyes into the speaker's face for a moment.

Then he said:

"Let us get the cab; if you are to go over Hume's rooms before dark, you haven't any too much time."

At the next corner they signaled a taxicab, and in a short time they were set down in Christie Place. Paulson, the policeman, was standing guard.

"How are you?" he greeted them affably.

"Been here all day?" asked Ashton-Kirk.

"Oh, no. Just come on. I'm the third s.h.i.+ft since I saw you last."

"n.o.body has been permitted to go upstairs, I presume?"

"Only the coroner's man, who came for the body. And they touched nothing but the body. Our orders were strong on that."

"Has anything been heard as the result of the post-mortem?"

"It showed that Hume was in bad shape from too much drink. Then he had a hard knock on the head, and the wound in his chest."

"But there was no sign of a bullet wound?"

"No," said Paulson, surprised. "Nothing like that."