Ashton-Kirk, Investigator Part 8

"And is that all she can tell?"

"Yes; except that she bolted down the stairs in a hurry, met Paulson here," with a nod to the policeman, who had now discarded his cigar, "and told him what she had seen."

"What is her name and address?"

Osborne consulted a note book.

"Mrs. Dwyer, 71 Cormant Street," read he.

"Please make a note of that," said Stillman to his clerk. "And send for her later in the day." Then turning once more to Osborne, he continued. "Before doing anything else we will endeavor to find out how the criminal gained an entrance."

"That's the way with these Johnnie Newcomers," grumbled Osborne as Stillman turned once more to his aide. "They want to do it all. Why don't he go in, look at the body and leave the police business to the police."

"Too much earnestness may have its drawbacks," said Ashton-Kirk, "but it is to be preferred to the perfunctory methods of the accustomed official, for all."

"From your angle, maybe so," said Osborne with a frown; "but not from ours."

Stillman began rubbing his palms together with what was intended to be business-like briskness; he stepped up and down the dark hall, peering right and left. But for all his a.s.sumption of confidence, his nervousness was very apparent.

"You say," said he to Osborne, "that the scrubwoman unlocked the street door. Very good. That shows that _it_ was fast at all events.

Now what other means are there of entering the building?"

"None, except by the fire-escapes and windows. But the windows on this floor are all secured except for those at the front."

"Except for those at the front." The young coroner paused in his hand rubbing. "Would it not have been possible for the person or persons who did this murder to enter by one of those?"

"It would have been possible," returned the big headquarters man, "but no sane person would do it. They'd have to swarm up the face of the building in full view of anyone that might be pa.s.sing at the time."

"Exactly," said Stillman, stiffening under what he was half inclined to consider a rebuff. "Well, that eliminates _that_ possibility. Now to the next one. Who occupied the building besides the murdered man?"

"A man named Berg keeps a delicatessen store on the first floor. His place in no way communicates with the rest of the building. The third and fourth floors are used for storage purposes by a furrier. Except in the spring and fall, so Mrs. Dwyer tells me, he seldom visits the building."

"Is there any way of getting in from the top of the house--the roof?"

asked the coroner.

A look of something like respect came into Osborne's face. Clearly the question was one which he considered worth while.

"There is a scuttle," he replied. "The bolt is rusted and broken; it has probably not been fastened for months, perhaps years."

"Now we are beginning to come at something," cried Stillman, well pleased. "In all probability the a.s.sa.s.sin entered by way of the scuttle." He turned as though for the approval of the stolid-faced man. "Eh, Curran? What do you think of that?"

"It looks very like it, Mr. Stillman."

"At all events," spoke the coroner, "we will now examine the rooms."

He advanced and tried the door of the show room.

"Ah, locked!" said he. He turned and entered the store room, the others following. The gas was still burning; the coroner stuck a pair of big-lensed eyegla.s.ses upon his rather high nose and gazed about him intently.

"There seems to be nothing of an informing nature here," said he, after a time. "Where is the body?"

Osborne led the way into the front room. After a glance at the ghastly, huddled figure upon the carpet near the desk, the coroner took a careful survey of the apartment.

"Did Mr. Hume employ any person to a.s.sist him?" he asked.

"The scrub-woman told me that there was a young man here always when she came during the business day for her wages. A sort of clerk, she thought."

"He will be able to tell us if anything has been disturbed, no doubt,"

remarked Stillman.

Then he examined the body minutely. In the pockets were found a wallet containing a large sum of money, a ma.s.sive, old-fas.h.i.+oned gold watch with a chain running from pocket to pocket of the waist-coat. Upon the little finger of Hume's left hand was a magnificent diamond.

"Worth two thousand if it's worth a cent," appraised Osborne.

"If the criminal had meant robbery these things would unquestionably have been taken," commented the young coroner. "Eh, Curran?"

"That is a very safe rule to go by, Mr. Stillman," replied his a.s.sistant, with the utmost stolidity.

Through his big lenses the coroner gazed curiously at the bronze haft protruding from the dead man's chest.

"A bayonet," said he. "Not a common weapon in a crime like this. In fact, I should say it was rather in the nature of an innovation."

"It probably belonged in Hume's stock," suggested Osborne. "There seems to be about everything here."

But Stillman shook his head.

"We have already about concluded that the intention of the criminal was not robbery," stated he. "And now, if we make up our minds that the bayonet belonged to Hume--that the a.s.sa.s.sin, in point of fact, came here without a weapon--it must be that he did not intend murder either."

"Maybe he didn't," ventured Osborne. "There might have been a sudden quarrel. The person who struck that blow may have grabbed up the first competent looking thing that came to his hand."

Stillman turned to Ashton-Kirk.

"That sounds reasonable enough, eh?"

"Very much so," replied Ashton-Kirk.

"A bayonet is a most unusual weapon," said the coroner thoughtfully, readjusting his gla.s.ses. "And I think it would be a most awkward thing to carry around with one. Therefore, it would be a most unlikely choice for an intending a.s.sa.s.sin. I am of the opinion," nervously, "that we may safely say that it was a sudden quarrel which ended in this," and he gestured with both hands toward the body.

The safe doors were tried and found locked; a cash register was opened and found to contain what had been apparently the receipts of the day before. An examination of the cabinets and cases disclosed hundreds of ancient coins and other articles the value of which must have been heavy. But their orderly array had not been disturbed. A long curtain of faded green material hung from the wall at one side, as though to screen something from the sunlight and dust.

"What have we here?" said the coroner.

He stepped across the store and whisked the curtain aside. A large gilt frame was disclosed; and from it hung the slashed remains of a canvas.

"h.e.l.lo!" exclaimed Osborne, with interest. "This begins to look like one of the old affairs that they say Hume's been mixed up in.

Somebody's tried to cut that picture from the frame."

They examined it carefully. A keen knife had been run around the top and both sides, close to the frame. The painting hung down, its gray back displayed forlornly.