The Mystery of the Boule Cabinet Part 11

Rogers hesitated.

"I wouldn't like to say sure, sir," he answered, at last. "I might and I might not."

"Red lips and a white face and bright eyes aren't much to go on,"

Grady pointed out. "Can't you give us a closer description?"

"I'm afraid not, sir. I just got a general impression, like, of her face through her veil."

"You say you didn't search these rooms?"

"No, sir, I didn't come inside the door."

"Why not?"

"I was afraid to, sir."

"Afraid to?"

"Yes, sir; I'm afraid to be here now."

"Did Parks come in?"

"No, sir; I guess he felt the same way I did."

"Then how did you know Vantine was dead? Why didn't you try to help him?"

"One look was enough to tell me that wasn't no use," said Rogers, and glanced, with visible horror, at the crumpled form on the floor.

Grady looked at him keenly for a moment; but there seemed to be no reason to doubt his story. Then the detective looked about the room.

"There's one thing I don't understand," he said, "and that is why Vantine should want all these lights. What was he doing in here?"

"I couldn't be sure, sir; but I suppose he was looking at the furniture he brought over from Europe. He was a collector, you know, sir. There are five or six pieces in the next room."

Without a word, Grady arose and pa.s.sed into the room adjoining, we after him; only Rogers remained seated where he was. I remember glancing back over my shoulder and noting how he huddled forward in his chair, as though crushed by a great weight, the instant our backs were turned.

But I forgot Rogers in contemplation of the scene before me.

The inner room was ablaze with light, and the furniture stood hap-hazard about it, just as I had seen it earlier in the day. Only one thing had been moved. That was the Boule cabinet.

It had been carried to the centre of the room, and placed in the full glare of the light from the chandelier. It stood there blazing with arrogant beauty, a thing apart.

Who had helped Vantine place it there, I wondered? Neither Rogers nor Parks had mentioned doing so. I turned back to the outer room.

Rogers was sitting crouched forward in his chair, his hands over his eyes, and I could feel him jerk with nervousness as I touched him on the shoulder.

"Oh, is it you, Mr. Lester?" he gasped. "Pardon me, sir; I'm not at all myself, sir."

"I can see that," I said, soothingly; "and no wonder. I just wanted to ask you--did you help move any of the furniture in the room yonder?"

"Help move it, sir?"

"Yes--help change the position of any of it since this afternoon?"

"No, sir; I haven't touched any of it, sir."

"That's all right, then," I said, and turned back into the inner room.

Vantine had said that he intended examining the cabinet in detail at the first opportunity; I remembered how his eyes had gleamed as he looked at it; how his hand had trembled as he caressed the arabesques. No doubt he was making that examination when he had heard a woman's cry and had gone out into the hall to see what the matter was.

Then he and the woman had entered the ante-room together; he had closed the door; and then....

Like a lightning-flash, a thought leaped into my brain--a reason--an explanation--wild, improbable, absurd, but still an explanation!

I choked back the cry which rose to my lips; I gripped my hands behind me, in a desperate attempt to hold myself in check; and, fascinated as by a deadly serpent, I stood staring at the cabinet.

For there, I felt certain, lay the clue to the mystery!

CHAPTER VII

ROGERS GETS A SHOCK

Grady, Simmonds and Goldberger examined the room minutely, for they seemed to feel that the secret of the tragedy lay somewhere within its four walls; but I watched them only absently, for I had lost interest in the procedure. I was perfectly sure that they would find nothing in any way bearing upon the mystery. I heard Grady comment upon the fact that there was no door except the one opening into the ante-room, and saw them examine the window-catches.

"n.o.body could raise these windows without alarming the house," Grady said, and pointed to a tiny wire running along the woodwork. "There's a burglar alarm."

Simmonds a.s.sented, and finally the trio returned to the ante-room.

"We'd like to look over the rest of the house," Grady said to Rogers, who was sitting erect again, looking more like himself, and the four men went out into the hall together. I remained behind with Hughes and Freylinghuisen. They had lifted the body to the couch and were making a careful examination of it. Heavy at heart, I sat down near by and watched them.

That Philip Vantine should have been killed by enthusiasm for the hobby which had given him so much pleasure seemed the very irony of fate, yet such I believed to be the case. To be sure, there were various incidents which seemed to conflict with such a theory, and the theory itself seemed wild to the point of absurdity; but at least it was a ray of light in what had been utter darkness. I turned it over and over in my mind, trying to fit into it the happenings of the day--I must confess with very poor success. Freylinghuisen's voice brought me out of my reverie.

"The two cases are precisely alike," he was saying. "The symptoms are identical. And I'm certain we shall find paralysis of the heart and spinal cord in this case, just as I did in the other. Both men were killed by the same poison."

"Can you make a guess as to the nature of the poison?" Hughes inquired.

"Some variant of hydrocyanic acid, I fancy--the odour indicates that; but it must be about fifty times as deadly as hydrocyanic acid is."

They wandered away into a discussion of possible variants, so technical and be-sprinkled with abstruse words and formulae that I could not follow them. Freylinghuisen, of course, had all this sort of thing at his fingers' ends--post-mortems were his every-day occupation, and no doubt he had been furbis.h.i.+ng himself up, since this last one, in preparation for the inquest, where he would naturally wish to s.h.i.+ne. I could see that he enjoyed displaying his knowledge before Hughes, who, although a family pract.i.tioner of high standing, with an income greater than Freylinghuisen's many times over, had no such expert knowledge of toxicology as a coroner's physician would naturally possess.

The two detectives and the coroner came back while the discussion was still in progress and listened in silence to Freylinghuisen's statement of the case. Grady's mahogany face told absolutely nothing of what was pa.s.sing in his brain, but Simmonds was plainly bewildered. It was evident from his look that nothing had been found to shed any light on the mystery; and now that his suicide theory had fallen to pieces, he was completely at sea. So, I suspected, was Grady, but he was too self-composed to betray it.

The coroner drew the two physicians aside and talked to them for a few moments in a low tone. Then he turned to Grady.