A Master Hand Part 3

I made no answer, but my thoughts went back to the old college days when Winters was a bright-faced, merry boy, and we had been chums and inseparable companions. Since then he had gone from bad to worse till he had become a social outcast, and we had drifted altogether apart, but even thus I could not believe of him this awful charge. There must, I felt, be some mistake somewhere, and I asked, doubtfully, why they thought it was Winters.

"Because," the Inspector replied, "the officer had seen him come out of White's house at night on other occasions and the man in this instance was of about his size and appearance."

I said no more, but thought it looked a little black for poor Winters, whom the police were evidently still hunting.

After I left them I walked slowly uptown, reflecting upon the situation in the light of the Inspector's view of the case.

I was not disposed to altogether condemn police methods, for they were generally successful, if illogical, but I saw that in this case they were pursuing their usual course of first determining who ought to be the criminal and then securing the evidence to convict him; instead of, as seemed to me proper, developing first the evidence and reserving conclusions till it discovered the offender.

I thought the police method unfortunate, to say the least, for with the best intentions the exercise of unprejudiced judgment and the fair use of evidence is made difficult where the case is "worked up" upon a preconceived theory that a particular individual has committed the crime. It is extraordinary how in many such cases evidence is secured, and in good faith, that seems to bear out their theory and many little things that in themselves have no importance, when presented in the light of the theory furnish circ.u.mstantial evidence in its support.

These same little things are often hard to explain away too, because they had no purpose at the time and have no explanation; for each act of a man deliberately done and with a purpose, there are a hundred that have no conception, no purpose, and hardly consciousness.

Truly I saw a hard time ahead for poor Winters, who, without friends, money, or character, would have little chance against the machinery of the law; and with the warm impulse of youth I was inclined to become my old friend's champion while yet knowing almost nothing of the facts. I had condemned the police for premature judgment of the case and now, influenced by sympathy, I was near doing the same myself, unconscious of the inconsistency of my mental att.i.tude. I would be more deliberate to-day; time has taught me the wisdom of going slow, but I hope it has yet to teach me indifference to the troubles of others.

I had walked some distance thus absorbed in thought when I was suddenly recalled to my surroundings by finding myself on Nineteenth Street opposite White's house--following unconsciously the bent of my thoughts, I had taken that route home. I was about to hurry on, having no desire to linger on the scene, when my attention was attracted to a man leaning dejectedly against the railing of the steps. On a closer look I recognized Winters and with a pang of regret saw that he wore a light coat and derby hat such as described by the night-officer.

After some hesitation, I crossed over and spoke to him. He stared at me for a moment in a half-dazed way, and then recognized me indifferently.

He looked wretched; his clothes were soiled and threadbare, his face haggard, and his eyes bloodshot with drink and lack of sleep; he seemed a being utterly hopeless and lost to manhood. Before I could collect myself to speak to him, he had relapsed again into his stupor and had apparently forgotten my presence.

Anxious, nevertheless, to learn something from him of himself, and to help him if possible, I asked him if he knew his cousin was dead. He nodded an a.s.sent without looking at me. I then told him that he had been murdered, to which he only answered:

"So they say."

"Have you been in to see him?" I continued.

He said, "No," and then added bitterly: "Why should I wish to see him?

Have I not troubles enough of my own?"

I abandoned my efforts to talk with him, for it was evidently useless, and as there seemed nothing I could do for him, continued on my way.

As I reached the corner of Fifth Avenue, I recognized a detective standing idly by the curb. Already the shadow of trouble was over the wretched man. I could not help him now, however, it must be later, if at all, and I pa.s.sed on.

CHAPTER V

THE INQUEST

The next day at the time appointed, three o'clock, I attended, as representative of the State, the Coroner's hearing. Since my interview with the Inspector, reported in the last chapter, I had seen no one likely to throw any light upon the case. I had also avoided any personal investigation as I did not wish to form conclusions, preferring to give an unprejudiced hearing to the evidence as it was offered from the lips of the witnesses on the stand.

When I entered upon the scene, the usual pomp and circ.u.mstance of such proceeding were present. Behind his desk sat the Coroner, serious and dignified, as became the presiding officer of the occasion.

Ranged to his right were the jurors as I had seen them at the house, no more intelligent in appearance now than then, but perhaps with even greater solemnity in their bearing and expression, as was demanded of them in this hour of public importance.

I crossed over to the table on the Coroner's left, reserved for the State officers, and took a seat there with the Inspector, Detective Miles, and several policemen.

A ma.s.s of people filled the farther end of the room; most of them spectators drawn to the scene by the morbid curiosity that always attends on such occasions. Conspicuous among them I recognized Littell, Davis, Benton, and others whom I knew to be present as witnesses. Van Bult was not there, however.

Davis looked pale, nervous, and miserable. Poor fellow, evidently this sort of thing did not agree with him. Benton was also nervous and excited, I could see. Littell looked somewhat bored and tired, but gave me a nod and came over to me, making his way into the forbidden precinct without interruption, as can only be done by men such as he, who by quick and mendacious a.s.sumption are in the habit of getting what is not by right theirs.

As he leaned over my chair, he whispered: "This is a miserable affair, d.i.c.k!" I was not inclined for conversation, however, as I wished to give my entire attention to the proceedings, so I only motioned him to a chair nearby.

Without unnecessary delay, the Coroner briefly stated the occasion of the hearing, and then gave the results of his observation and post-mortem. He did it with no more verbosity and display of unintelligible technical terminology than the ordinary medical expert indulges himself in on such occasions.

The jury and audience were able to glean from his testimony with reasonable certainty, nevertheless, that White had died from a stab--I believe he said "an incised wound"--made by a dagger or dirk or some similar slim, sharp instrument driven with great force into the back, just beneath the left shoulder blade, slightly downward in direction and penetrating the heart,--such a blow as might have been given by a man standing over him while he lay on his right side.

There was no other cause of death, for White was organically as sound as the average man. In reply to a few suggestions rather than questions from the Inspector, he added that, when he had first seen White about eight o'clock the preceding morning, he had probably been dead some hours, he could not say definitely; that he died suddenly, probably without much outcry or struggle; that he had not killed himself, because the wound could not have been self-inflicted. This much was reasonably clear from his testimony, and as he was not afforded by cross-examination an opportunity to explain or contradict himself, the jury was left with some information on the subject.

Dr. Lincoln, who succeeded him, told of his early call about seven o'clock by Benton; of his finding White dead, as described, on the divan, and his subsequent a.s.sistance at the post-mortem.

In a very few words he corroborated the Coroner's testimony in all important particulars and left no doubt in any one's mind that White had been murdered some time early in the night and with the stiletto, which was produced and identified by both him and the Coroner as the weapon they found in the wound.

The sheath was also produced and fitted to the weapon and its location over the divan described.

Benton was the next witness. He was laboring under considerable excitement, but gave his evidence clearly. He testified to leaving White the night of his death about quarter to one o'clock. That White had been drinking, and was in an ill humor, but not drunk. That he had thrown himself upon the divan almost immediately after we had left, and at the same time had ordered the witness to go home, which order he had obeyed without delaying to arrange anything. In the morning he had returned at his customary hour, a little before seven o'clock, and had entered the room, the door of which, contrary to custom, he had found unlocked. That the room appeared just as he had left it and to his surprise he had seen White still upon the divan, apparently asleep. That he went over to arouse him and discovered he was dead and saw the dagger hilt protruding from his back. That he had rushed out into the hall and called for help, then into the street, leaving the door open behind him, to find a policeman. That he succeeded in doing so within the block, and returned with him to the house. When they got there they found the landlady and the housemaid standing in the hall looking into the room, but they had not apparently been in. That by direction of the officer he next went to the police station and reported the case, and then came to me. After which he sent a messenger for Mr. Littell and went himself for Mr. Van Bult, but the latter had left the city by an early train, at least so the servant said. That he had then returned to the house, where a large number of people were gathered. He knew nothing further about the matter.

The Inspector asked if there had been any money on the card table when he had left that night, to which he answered that there had been some large bills left by one of the gentlemen after the game, but that he did not see them there in the morning.

The plaid cap, which had been found back of the divan, was here produced and shown him and he was asked if he recognized it. He responded promptly that it was a cap which White was in the habit of wearing sometimes on rough nights and volunteered the statement that both it and a corresponding ulster had been lying on the chair near the window the night of the murder, but the latter was not there in the morning.

Benton was succeeded on the stand by Davis. The latter had little to tell, however. He briefly related in a weak voice about our doings there the previous evening, stating that he had left about the same time as Benton, leaving White stretched out on the divan, and had closed the door behind him. That he had gone up to his room and retired. In the morning about seven o'clock he was aroused by a commotion and the call of the housemaid and had dressed and gone down immediately to find White dead on the divan, as described. That a police officer was then in the room, and the landlady and housemaid were in the pa.s.sage. That shortly afterwards others came, myself among the number.

He also testified that Van Bult had left four fifty-dollar bills on the table the night before and that they were there when he left, but that he did not see them in the morning; so, also, he said the plaid cap and ulster had been on a chair near the window, but were missing in the morning.

He offered no further testimony and was permitted to leave the stand without questions.

Littell was then called and told briefly and clearly what had happened as I already knew it on the night of White's death. After reciting the events of the evening, he stated that he had walked to Madison Square with me and then continued uptown to his hotel. That on the following morning while dressing, he thought about eight o'clock, he received a note from Benton, which he produced, telling him of the murder, and that he had then gone at once to White's house and found things as they had been described. He corroborated Benton and Davis about the missing money and the cap and ulster. He also was not cross-examined.

Van Bult was then called, but did not answer, and the sheriff's deputy explained he was "non est." This, coupled with the statement of Benton that he had left the city early on the morning of the murder, created some stir among the audience, their first active demonstration of interest that I had observed, though they had given close attention to all the proceedings.

Next the day-officer on White's beat took the stand and told of his call by Benton, the visit to White's rooms, and his guard over them until others arrived on the scene and took charge. He confirmed the statements of the previous witnesses as to the conditions of the room and position of the body, but as he had not come on duty until six in the morning, he could give no information on the important matter of what happened earlier.

The Inspector here leaned over and asked me if I cared to testify, but as I could throw no additional light upon the subject and preferred on account of my official position not to take the stand, I declined. He then suggested that as he had no further important testimony ready to offer the hearing be adjourned to the second succeeding day.

I guessed that his purpose in omitting the testimony of the night-officer was to collect evidence against Winters before disclosing his case, but I felt it was only right he should do so and as I was anxious that more should be learned if possible of the whereabouts of the ulster, I agreed to the suggestion and the hearing was accordingly adjourned.

After requesting him to send Detective Miles to me the following morning to report, I gathered up the notes of the evidence which I had taken for later use, and in company with Littell and Davis took my way to the Crescent Club.

As we walked uptown Davis seemed too depressed for conversation, while Littell with his usual serenity contented himself with the remark that it was an unpleasant affair and he hoped it would soon be over.

I was not satisfied, however, to let the subject pa.s.s in so indifferent a way, for I wanted some expression from him on certain points in the case. I therefore asked him what he made of the disappearance of the ulster. He answered rather impatiently, I thought, that he made nothing of it, that he did not see how he could be expected to under the circ.u.mstances, as no one had furnished him any information on the subject.

At this Davis, who always had an ear for the ridiculous, laughed in a half-hearted way.

I felt a little annoyed, however, at his indifference, more especially as I was confident that his astute mind had not overlooked the incident or its importance, and I asked him rather sharply not to trifle with a serious subject, but to give me his real opinion, for I wanted it.