The Riddle of the Spinning Wheel

by Thomas W. Hanshew and Mary E. Hanshew

  CHAPTER XIII

  MR. NARKOM VOICES AN OPINION

  "_Bloodstains?_"

  Three pairs of feminine lips voiced that sinister word simultaneously:Lady Paula's, Cynthia's, and Maud Duggan's.

  "But how, Mr. Deland?-- But why?-- And upon Cynthia's dress, too!"

  "Well, I'll swear I never had anything to do with it, anyhow!" threw inCynthia emphatically and in a voice of astonishment. "How _could_ theybe bloodstains, Mr. Deland? and how could they possibly get on _my_frock? Solve that question, if you please, first of all."

  "Quite a simple one, Miss Debenham. Just this: The murderer--or one ofthem, as the case may be--entered this room by that middle window,stabbed Sir Andrew with the stiletto, stolen for the purpose, ofcourse--then, in a frenzy lest he be discovered, caught hold of thenearest thing and wiped the bloodstained instrument upon it, and thenmade off as quickly as possible. You happened to be the nearest, nodoubt. So you were the person chosen. Did you not feel anything at allof the action?"

  She shook her head.

  "Nothing that I remember. We were all so astonished when the lightfailed that I don't remember anything at all about it. If it was done,it was done gently--and my skirt is wide."

  "And you think the murderer, the perpetrator of this wicked crime, was aman, then, Mr. Deland?" put in the soft voice of Lady Paula at thisjuncture.

  Cleek spun around toward her, nodding emphatically.

  "I do, indeed. No woman could have arranged the thing like this, LadyPaula. The electricity would have been too difficult a problem for her,in the first place, and then the shooting----"

  "And how do you account for _that_, Mr. Deland?"

  "Ah, that is a more difficult matter. How? By whose hand? We will getback to our stage rehearsal for that, I think. Mr. Narkom, would you sitdown again in the chair? Thanks very much. It's only just for a moment.Now, if you ladies would take up your positions again as they were, I'dbe very much obliged. Let me see. The shot entered the temple here abovethe left eye and passed clean through the head into the wall of the roombeyond. An acute angle of fifty degrees. H'm. That would bring it toabout over there and to a level with the top of that wood-panelling.Then the bullet must be located somewhere in that vicinity, from alllogical reasonings. But where? Come, Mr. Narkom, just a moment. Lend meyour keen eyes, will you? And we'll have a look together. It'll wantcareful looking, I'll warrant. But the panelling's in fine condition andshows every mark. I-- Gad! and here it is too!"

  His finger paused upon a slight, dark puncture in the darkness of thewood, and he whirled round and faced them all, eyes alight, face aglow,and marking the spot with his finger-nail. "Here, lend me your knife, myfriend, and we'll dig it out. That will establish a pretty good clue, Ican promise you. And a soundless pistol-shot--an air-gun. It ought to beeasy to trace the owner of _that_, in desolate parts like this. Well,here goes!"

  A moment's careful prodding with the point of the knife, and the thingwas done. The bullet--an infinitesimal thing--fell out into the palm ofhis hand. Then, of a sudden, he swung around in his tracks toward them.His face was grim.

  "Look here," he said, in the sharp staccato of excitement, "what I wantto know is, who of this company possesses an air-gun? For that someonedoes I am certain. That shot must have been fired at close range--by thedepth to which it was embedded in this wood. Mr. Duggan, do you happento own an air-pistol?"

  The last remnant of colour drained itself out of Ross Duggan's alreadypale cheeks. His eyes narrowed down to pin-points in the frame of hisface. Then his chin went up.

  "I do, Mr. Deland."

  "H'm. I thought as much. And if you were standing there, opposite yourfather, and with no one at the right side of you, and only the space ofthe bow-window between you and the outside world--taking intoconsideration the enormous amount of misguided reason which you mighthave to commit such a terrible crime--as I said before, if you movedquickly over there, side stepping, so that the shot might miss any ofthe ladies opposite after passing through Sir Andrew's brain, and--ifthe lights failed at a given and arranged moment, and you whipped outyour revolver and fired, it _might_ bring about just this identicalresult."

  "I ... my God! man, you're not accusing me of murdering my own father,are you? You're daft--insane--idiotic!"

  Cleek held up a silencing hand.

  "I'm not accusing anybody, Mr. Duggan; simply reconstructing matters forthe purpose of finding out the true assassins. And, as I told you lastnight, every one, according to English law, may be considered guiltyuntil he be proved innocent. Suspicions seem to point heavily to you, Imust say. But we've got to have more facts, of course.

  "He didn't do it, Mr. Deland! Of course he didn't do it!"

  Cynthia shrilled out these words suddenly, rushing toward Cleek andfastening her hands about his arm. "You're mad to suggest such a thing,to even think it! My Ross wouldn't stoop to _murder_ for a beastlyinheritance! You don't know him as I do--as all these others do. It'sincredible."

  "Quite true, Miss Debenham. But let's ask Mr. Narkom what he thinks ofit. He's kept his peace during this session, proving himself, no doubt,a wiser man than I. Mr. Narkom, give us your views, please. Who do _you_think has committed this crime, according to present evidence?"

  "That man!" Mr. Narkom pointed excitedly in Ross's direction, his fatface red with excitement, his forehead perspiring with the heat of hisexcitement. "_He_ fired the shot. But the stiletto--that is a moredifficult question."

  "And you think Mr. Duggan actually did kill his father, then? No, no,sir, I beg of you, let us finish this discussion before you interrupt.It might lead to something really enlightening. You think that, Mr.Narkom? Considering the position in which the shot was fired, and theposition in which Mr. Duggan himself stood last night?"

  "Decidedly I do."

  "H'm. I'm sorry. But I'm inclined to agree. But the evidence, I admit,is at present slight--the actual circumstantial evidence, I mean. You'renot going to--arrest--him on that, I hope?"

  Arrest! The fateful word fell upon that assemblage with truly sinistermeaning. Arrest Ross! Arrest him! Impossible! Upon every face thesethoughts might be read--except upon Lady Paula's, where, indeed, a sortof secret and hidden triumph seemed to glow like a light lit fromwithin. Cleek flashed his eyes over every face. He paused at LadyPaula's for one moment, and then went on to Ross's--and ended up atlength upon Catherine Dowd's. It was transfigured! Transfigured withhate of himself, with love of Ross: the two most intense feelings inhuman nature warring with each other upon it to be uppermost. That lookof hatred made him positively shiver. If the woman had had any realreason for the crime, could she not have been the perpetrator of thestabbing episode? But she hadn't any reason, at least none that could beat present discovered. One would have to go deeper than that for motive.

  "Well, Mr. Narkom?"

  The Superintendent was looking frankly uncomfortable. Cleek's directaction in front of them all had somewhat winded him. He was not used tosuch out-and-out tactics, even in the methods of a man who was the mostamazing beggar he had ever struck.

  "I--I--well, hardly that, my dear chap," he responded awkwardly. "We'vegot to have more proof than that, you know. A judge won't hang a manupon the evidence of his possible position in a room when the light wentout. It--it isn't feasible!"

  "Well done, well done!" Cleek laughed the words softly into his ear."So, Mr. Duggan, you are free--for the present. But understand, you areon parole and must not leave this house unaccompanied by a constable orplain-clothes man. This thing's got to be sifted to the bottom, and,what's more, it's going to be, too. And whoever has murdered that poorold man will swing for it, so help me God!"