A Master Hand Part 4

"Well, Dallas," he said, "if you must have it at this very undeveloped stage of the evidence, I think that when you find the ulster you will be on the track of the murderer," and after a moment's pause he continued: "The ulster was in the room when we left it and it was not there the following morning. Some one, therefore, was in the room in the meanwhile and removed it. Now, it is very unlikely that more than one man was there, and that man must have been the murderer as well as the thief."

He reflected a moment, and then went on: "The ulster, nevertheless, was not taken for its value, for to have realized on it the thief must have contemplated selling it and no man in his right senses, who had been guilty of murder, would have jeopardized his neck by selling any article taken from the scene of the crime so conspicuous as that ulster. No," he resumed, after a moment's thought, "it was taken with some deeper design and is now either destroyed or safely hidden, or, more likely still, disposed of in some ingenious way that will only further baffle the authorities when found."

Thus far Littell's reasoning had been similar to my own, only, as I had to confess, clearer and more direct. I wished now to lead him a step further and confront him with the dilemma that had met me when I learned that White himself had worn the coat out that night after we left him.

So I told him that within less than half an hour after we parted with him White had left the house wearing the ulster.

"How do you know that?" he asked.

"Because," I answered, "the night-officer saw him."

"Well," Littell said, "that is a curious coincidence, I admit, but it does not interfere at all with our theory. If he did leave the house,"

he continued, reasoning apparently as much to himself as to me, "he certainly returned, because he was murdered there, and upon returning he removed the ulster and lay down again and the original conditions were restored. I do not see that it alters the situation, except that it drops the curtain a little later."

"Then," I said, "you adhere to the theory that the murderer took the ulster?"

"Yes, I see no other solution," he replied.

I reflected that if Littell's reasoning were correct, then Winters, or whomever the man may have been that the night-officer had seen coming out of the vestibule of White's house, had not been the murderer, and I determined to see what view Littell would take of it. I, therefore, related this incident to him and continued:

"This man, it is thought by the police, was concerned in the murder, but he did not have the ulster with him when he left the house."

Littell looked puzzled for a minute and then answered:

"I adhere to my opinion just the same; if that man did not have the ulster, he was not the murderer. His presence on the scene that night very likely had no connection with the crime."

"But," I insisted, "your reasoning is all premised upon the a.s.sumption that White must have worn the ulster when he returned, for otherwise there would be no necessity for accounting for its disappearance. Is it not possible on the contrary that he left it somewhere and returned without it?"

"No," he said, "not on such a wet night and in evening dress."

"I admit its improbability," I acknowledged, "but is it not possible, nevertheless?"

"Not sufficiently so to be taken into account," he replied. "Most things are possible, but if we stop to consider all the possibilities in a case, we will have no time for the real facts and will arrive nowhere and accomplish nothing. Take my word for it, d.i.c.k! the man who committed the murder took the ulster."

This was my opinion, too, and as we had reached the club no more was said.

On entering a servant told me that Mr. Van Bult was waiting for me in the library; so we went there and found Van Bult seated in front of the fire with an unopened paper in his hands gazing abstractedly before him.

We greeted him and then for some moments were silent. There was so much to say and so little that seemed adequate. We four of all others were most allied by friendship and intimacy with poor White and by the incidents of that night with the tragedy of his death. All seemed too oppressed with the memories of our last gathering to break the silence and we stood waiting on one another for the first word. Several members of the club in the meantime came to the door and looked in, but seeing us four together turned back. At last Van Bult said:

"I suppose the papers have told me all you men know. I learned of it first in Buffalo, and returned as soon as I could. I am sorry I went away at all, but it was a matter of importance and I suppose I could have been of no use here." He paused a moment, but none of us said anything, and he went on: "So far as I can learn there is absolutely no clue to the mystery. I did not know that poor Arthur had an enemy in the world. Is there any evidence of a motive?" he concluded.

"None," Davis replied, "except that the money you left on the table was gone."

"That was a small sum to murder a man for," he replied; "and no one knew of its being there, either, but--" he hesitated, and then broke off: "Does suspicion attach to any one?"

I refrained from answering but Littell said, "No."

Noticing my silence, however, Van Bult turned to me and asked if the police knew more than the public.

"Yes," I told him, "they do; they think perhaps they have the right man."

"It is clever work if they have really found him so soon," he answered, "for it must have been a blind trail to pick up."

"Too clever by much," said Littell; "I don't believe it."

"Nor I," I joined in, but more to myself than the others.

Davis ventured no opinion. He only looked from one to another of us as we spoke. I doubt if the subject would have interested him at all except for our connection with it. After a while, in a pause in our talk he suggested something "to eat and drink and billiards or anything to cheer us up," as he said.

I don't think any of us were averse to a digression from the subject which hung over us like a pall and we took his advice and to all appearance, at least, the others put the subject away from them for the remainder of the night. It was never out of my thoughts, however; till the man who killed White was found and brought to justice I knew I could not rest, and I fancy Littell and Van Bult had some idea of what was in my mind, for they looked at me curiously now and then during the evening, and at parting Littell said:

"Cheer up, d.i.c.k, the world is full of the troubles of other people, and you will find your own enough to worry over."

Van Bult only told me to go to bed and sleep as he bade me good-night and went off with Davis, but I knew he also thought I was dwelling too much on the subject. I have no doubt they were right, but I could not help it and went to my room to pa.s.s a sleepless night.

CHAPTER VI

THE INQUEST CONCLUDED

Whatever my inclination may have been, I had no opportunity the next day to work on the case and scarcely any for thought of it. An important business matter took me out of town by an early train and kept me away over night so that I got back only in time to attend poor White's funeral the morning following, and then to hurry to the adjourned hearing before the Coroner.

In some respects I regretted my absence, as I might have become more familiar with the case in the interim had I been at hand, but I felt fresher for the change and diversion and ready and keen to make the most of every bit of evidence.

The crowd in the little court-room was greater and the interest seemed more intense than upon the first day.

The morning papers had hinted vaguely at newly discovered important evidence and a possible clue to the ident.i.ty of the murderer and a glance at the face of Inspector Dalton confirmed them. It was confident, almost triumphant, in expression, and I had misgivings that it boded no good for Winters. Indeed, I looked over my shoulder to see if the police had a prisoner, but it was not so.

Standing a little aside from the crowd were my three friends talking quietly together and nearby Benton, as also two women closely veiled and several rather seedy looking men,--witnesses, undoubtedly.

When the jurors were all in their seats the Coroner requested Dalton to proceed with the evidence and Van Bult was called. He advanced promptly but without haste and, taking the oath, faced the jury. He was perfectly composed, and gave his testimony in a clear low voice without hurry and without hesitation. It differed very little from that of Davis and Littell and threw no new light on the case.

When he concluded he turned to the Inspector for further questions.

Dalton asked him what were the denominations of the bills he had left on White's table and if he remembered where he had obtained them. He answered they were fifty-dollar bills and that they were new ones which he had obtained from the American National Bank where he had drawn five hundred dollars in fifties.

On being asked if he had any of them with him, he took one from his pocket-book and handed it to me. The Inspector here turned to one of the policemen and despatched him on some errand. He then asked the witness where he had been at the time of the preceding hearing, and was answered that he had gone to Buffalo by an early train the morning of the murder and returned only the succeeding evening, too late to attend.

Dalton asked him if his trip had not been a sudden one, and what had taken him. He replied that his trip was not unexpected and that it had been on personal business. The Inspector seemed inclined to push his questions but changed his mind and allowed him to leave the stand. I felt relieved, for I had seen by Van Bult's expression that he was not disposed to submit to further questions concerning himself and I knew his temper would not brook insistence from the Inspector.

The night-officer, the substance of whose testimony had been told to me in the Inspector's office as I have related, then testified. He gave his account of the happenings of the night just as I had heard them and in answer to a few direct questions stated positively that it was not later than a quarter after one o'clock when White left the house that night wearing the cap and ulster, that he had seen him wear them more than once and knew them. That it was about a half-hour later when he had seen a man looking in White's window and some little time later, probably still before two o'clock, when the same man came out of the vestibule and hurried away, turning up Sixth Avenue. That he wore a light coat and brown derby hat and that he thought he could recognize him if he saw him again.

The witness impressed me as honest and painstaking in his work but not as especially clever. The effect of his evidence upon the jury and all present was plain. They had hung on his every word with breathless attention. To them it evidently seemed, as to the police, that they had fixed upon the criminal.

At my request the Inspector asked the officer if the man he had seen leaving the vestibule had White's ulster with him, and he answered positively that he had not.

My intention, of course, was to call to the notice of the jurors its unaccounted-for disappearance. I was not, however, encouraged to hope I had been successful, for from the indifferent expression with which the answer was received by most of them at least, they apparently thought it gratuitous and I realized that it would require a lucid argument to awaken them to its importance.

As the officer left the stand, I wondered whom the next witness would be, and if I was ever to hear anything further of the ulster or if its disappearance was to remain unexplained, to be ignored! I remembered, however, Detective Miles's promise, "We will find it if it is not destroyed," and felt sure he would keep his word, and this expectation was promptly confirmed.