CHAPTER VIII.
IN THE ROUND OF THE STAIRCASE.
The next morning Mr. Gryce received a small communication from MissButterworth at or near the very time she received one from him. Hersran:
You were quite correct. So far as appears, I was the only person to lean over Mr. Adams's study table after his unfortunate death. I have had to clip the ends of my boa.
His was equally laconic:
My compliments, madam! Mr. Adams's jaws have been forced apart. A small piece of paper was found clinched between his teeth. This paper has been recovered, and will be read at the inquest. Perhaps a few favored persons may be granted the opportunity of reading it before then, notably yourself.
Of the two letters the latter naturally occasioned the greaterexcitement in the recipient. The complacency of Miss Butterworth wassuperb, and being the result of something that could not be communicatedto those about her, occasioned in the household much speculation as toits cause.
At Police Headquarters more than one man was kept busy listening to theidle tales of a crowd of would-be informers. The results which hadfailed to follow the first day's publication of the crime came rapidlyin during the second. There were innumerable persons of all ages andconditions who were ready to tell how they had seen this and that oneissue from Mr. Adams's house on the afternoon of his death, but whenasked to give a description of these persons, lost themselves ingeneralities as tedious as they were unprofitable. One garrulous oldwoman had observed a lady of genteel appearance open the door to anelderly gentleman in a great-coat; and a fashionably dressed young womancame in all breathless to relate how a young man with a very pale younglady on his arm ran against her as she was going by this house at thevery hour Mr. Adams was said to have been murdered. She could not besure of knowing the young man again, and could not say if the young ladywas blonde or brunette, only that she was awfully pale and had abeautiful gray feather in her hat.
Others were ready with similar stories, which confirmed, without addingto, the facts already known, and night came on without much progresshaving been made toward the unravelling of this formidable mystery.
On the next day Mr. Adams's funeral took place. No relatives or intimatefriends having come forward, his landlord attended to these rites andhis banker acted the part of chief mourner. As his body was carried outof the house, a half-dozen detectives mingled with the crowd blockingthe thoroughfare in front, but nothing came of their surveillance hereor at the cemetery to which the remains were speedily carried. Theproblem which had been presented to the police had to be worked out fromsuch material as had already come to hand; and, in forcible recognitionof this fact, Mr. Gryce excused himself one evening at Headquarters andproceeded quite alone and on foot to the dark and apparently closedhouse in which the tragedy had occurred.
He entered with a key, and once inside, proceeded to light up the wholehouse. This done, he took a look at the study, saw that the cross hadbeen replaced on the wall, the bird-cage rehung on its hook under theceiling, and everything put in its wonted order, with the exception ofthe broken casings, which still yawned in a state of disrepair on eitherside of the doorway leading into the study. The steel plate had beenshoved back into the place prepared for it by Mr. Adams, but theglimpses still to be seen of its blue surface through the hole made inthe wall of the antechamber formed anything but an attractive featurein the scene, and Mr. Gryce, with something of the instinct and much ofthe deftness of a housewife, proceeded to pull up a couple of rugs fromthe parlor floor and string them over these openings. Then he consultedhis watch, and finding that it was within an hour of nine o'clock, tookup his stand behind the curtains of the parlor window. Soon, for theperson expected was as prompt as himself, he saw a carriage stop and alady alight, and he hastened to the front door to receive her. It wasMiss Butterworth.
"Madam, your punctuality is equal to my own," said he. "Have you orderedyour coachman to drive away?"
"Only as far as the corner," she returned, as she followed him down thehall. "There he will await the call of your whistle."
"Nothing could be better. Are you afraid to remain for a moment alone,while I watch from the window the arrival of the other persons weexpect? At present there is no one in the house but ourselves."
"If I was subject to fear in a matter of this kind, I should not be hereat all. Besides, the house is very cheerfully lighted. I see you havechosen a crimson light for illuminating the study."
"Because a crimson light was burning when Mr. Adams died."
"Remember Evelyn!" called out a voice.
"Oh, you have brought back the bird!" exclaimed Miss Butterworth. "Thatis not the cry with which it greeted me before. It was 'Eva! LovelyEva!' Do you suppose Eva and Evelyn are the same?"
"Madam, we have so many riddles before us that we will let this one gofor the present. I expect Mr. Adams's valet here in a moment."
"Sir, you relieve me of an immense weight. I was afraid that theprivilege of being present at the test you propose to make was not to beaccorded me."
"Miss Butterworth, you have earned a seat at this experiment. Bartow hasbeen given a key, and will enter as of old in entire freedom to do as hewills. We have simply to watch his movements."
"In this room, sir? I do not think I shall like that. I had rather notmeet this madman face to face."
"You will not be called upon to do so. We do not wish him to be startledby encountering any watchful eye. Irresponsible as he is, he must beallowed to move about without anything to distract his attention.Nothing must stand in the way of his following those impulses which mayyield us a clew to his habits and the ways of this peculiar household. Ipropose to place you where the chances are least in favor of your beingseen by him--in this parlor, madam, which we have every reason tobelieve was seldom opened during Mr. Adams's lifetime."
"You must put out the gas, then, or the unaccustomed light will attracthis attention."
"I will not only put out the gas, but I will draw the portieres close,making this little hole for your eye and this one for mine. A commonexpedient, madam; but serviceable, madam, serviceable."
The snort which Miss Butterworth gave as she thus found herself drawn upin darkness before a curtain, in company with this plausible old man,but feebly conveyed her sensations, which were naturally complex and alittle puzzling to herself. Had she been the possessor of a livelycuriosity (but we know from her own lips that she was not), she mighthave found some enjoyment in the situation. But being where she wassolely from a sense of duty, she probably blushed behind her screen atthe position in which she found herself, in the cause of truth andjustice; or would have done so if the opening of the front door at thatmoment had not told her that the critical moment had arrived and thatthe deaf-and-dumb valet had just been introduced into the house.
The faintest "Hush!" from Mr. Gryce warned her that her surmise wascorrect, and, bending her every energy to listen, she watched for theexpected appearance of this man in the antechamber of Mr. Adams's formerstudy.
He came even sooner than she was prepared to see him, and laying downhis hat on a table near the doorway, advanced with a busy air toward theportiere he had doubtless been in the habit of lifting twenty times aday. But he barely touched it this time. Something seen, or unseen,prevented him from entering. Was it the memory of what he had lastbeheld there? Or had he noticed the rugs hanging in an unaccustomed wayon either side of the damaged casings? Neither, apparently, for hesimply turned away with a meek look, wholly mechanical, and taking uphis hat again, left the antechamber and proceeded softly upstairs.
"I will follow him," whispered Mr. Gryce. "Don't be afraid, ma'am. Thiswhistle will bring a man in from the street at once."
"I am not afraid. I would be ashamed----"
But it was useless for her to finish this disclaimer. Mr. Gryce wasalready in the hall. He returned speedily, and saying that theexperiment was likely to be a failure, as the old man had gone to hisown room and was preparing
himself for bed, he led the way into thestudy, and with purpose, or without a purpose--who knows?--idly toucheda button on the table top, thus throwing a new light on the scene. Itwas Miss Butterworth's first experience of this change of light, and shewas observing the effect made by the violet glow now thrown over thepicture and the other rich articles in the room when her admiration wascut short, and Mr. Gryce's half-uttered remark also, by the faint soundof the valet's descending steps.
Indeed, they had barely time to regain their old position behind theparlor portieres when Bartow was seen hurrying in from the hall with hisformer busy air, which this time remained unchecked.
Crossing to his master's study, he paused for an infinitesimal length oftime on the threshold, as if conscious of something being amiss, thenwent into the room beyond, and, without a glance in the direction of therug, which had been carefully relaid on the spot where his master hadfallen, began to make such arrangements for the night as he was in thehabit of making at this hour. He brought a bottle of wine from thecupboard and set it on the table, and then a glass, which he first wipedscrupulously clean. Then he took out his master's dressing gown andslippers, and, placing them to hand, went into the bedroom.
By this time the two watchers had crept from their concealment nearenough to note what he was doing in the bedroom. He was stooping overthe comb which Mr. Gryce had left lying on the floor. This small objectin such a place seemed to surprise him. He took it up, shook his head,and put it back on the dresser. Then he turned down his master's bed.
"Poor fool!" murmured Miss Butterworth as she and her companion creptback to their old place behind the parlor curtains, "he has forgotteneverything but his old routine duties. We shall get nothing from thisman."
But she stopped suddenly; they both stopped. Bartow was in the middle ofthe study, with his eyes fixed on his master's empty chair in aninquiring way that spoke volumes. Then he turned, and gazed earnestly atthe rug where he had last seen that master lying outstretched andbreathless; and awakening to a realization of what had happened, fellinto his most violent self and proceeded to go through the series ofactions which they were now bound to consider a reproduction of what hehad previously seen take place there. Then he went softly out, and creptaway upstairs.
Mr. Gryce and Miss Butterworth stepped at once into the light, andsurveyed each other with a look of marked discouragement. Then thelatter, with a sudden gleam of enthusiasm, cried quickly:
"Turn on another color, and let us see what will happen. I have an ideait will fetch the old man down again."
Mr. Gryce's brows went up.
"Do you think he can see through the floor?"
But he touched a button, and a rich blue took the place of the violet.
Nothing happened.
Miss Butterworth looked disturbed.
"I have confidence in your theories," began Mr. Gryce, "but when theyimply the possibility of this man seeing through blank walls and obeyingsignals which can have no signification to any one on the floorabove----"
"Hark!" she cried, holding up one finger with a triumphant air. The oldman's steps could be heard descending.
This time he approached with considerable feebleness, passed slowly intothe study, advanced to the table, and reached out his hands as if tolift something which he expected to find there. Seeing nothing, heglanced in astonishment up at the book shelves and then back to thetable, shook his head, and suddenly collapsing, sank in a doze on thenearest chair.
Miss Butterworth drew a long breath, eyed Mr. Gryce with some curiosity,and then triumphantly exclaimed:
"Can you read the meaning of all that? I think I can. Don't you see thathe came expecting to find a pile of books on the table which it wasprobably his business to restore to their shelves?"
"But how can he know what light is burning here? You can see foryourself that there is no possible communication between this room andthe one in which he has always been found by any one going above."
Miss Butterworth's manner showed a hesitation that was almost naive. Shesmiled, and there was apology in her smile, though none in her voice, asshe remarked with odd breaks:
"When I went upstairs--you know I went upstairs when I was herebefore--I saw a little thing--a very little thing--which you doubtlessobserved yourself and which may explain, though I do not know how, whyBartow can perceive these lights from the floor above."
"I shall be very glad to hear about it, madam. I thought I hadthoroughly searched those rooms----"
"And the halls?"
"And the halls; and that nothing in them could have escaped my eyes. Butif you have a more patient vision than myself----"
"Or make it my business to look lower----"
"How?"
"To look lower; to look on the floor, say."
"On the floor?"
"The floor sometimes reveals much: shows where a person steps theoftenest, and, therefore, where he has the most business. You must havenoticed how marred the woodwork is at the edge of the carpeting on thatlittle landing above."
"In the round of the staircase?"
"Yes."
Mr. Gryce did not think it worth his while to answer. Perhaps he had nottime; for leaving the valet where he was, and Miss Butterworth where shewas (only she would not be left, but followed him), he made his wayupstairs, and paused at the place she had mentioned, with a curious lookat the floor.
"You see, it has been much trodden here," she said; at which gentlereminder of her presence he gave a start; possibly he had not heard herbehind him, and after sixty years of hard service even a detective maybe excused a slight nervousness. "Now, why should it be trodden here?There is no apparent reason why any one should shuffle to and fro inthis corner. The stair is wide, especially here, and there is nowindow----"
Mr. Gryce, whose eye had been travelling over the wall, reached over hershoulder to one of the dozen pictures hanging at intervals from thebottom to the top of the staircase, and pulling it away from the wall,on which it hung decidedly askew, revealed a round opening through whichpoured a ray of blue light which could only proceed from the vault ofthe adjoining study.
"No window," he repeated. "No, but an opening into the study wall whichanswers the same purpose. Miss Butterworth, your eye is to be trustedevery time. I only wonder you did not pull this picture aside yourself."
"It was not hanging crooked then. Besides I was in a hurry. I had justcome from my encounter with this demented man. I had noticed the markson the landing, and the worn edges of the carpet, on my way upstairs. Iwas in no condition to observe them on my way down."
"I see."
Miss Butterworth ran her foot to and fro over the flooring they wereexamining.
"Bartow was evidently in the habit of coming here constantly," said she,"probably to learn whether his master had need of him. Ingenious in Mr.Adams to contrive signals for communication with this man! He certainlyhad great use for his deaf-and-dumb servant. So one mystery is solved!"
"And if I am not mistaken, we can by a glance through this loopholeobtain the answer to another. You are wondering, I believe, how Bartow,if he followed the movements of the assailant from the doorway, came tothrust with his left hand, instead of with his right. Now if he saw thetragedy from this point, he saw it over the assailant's shoulder,instead of face to face. What follows? He would imitate literally themovements of the man he saw, turn in the same direction and strike withthe same hand."
"Mr. Gryce, we are beginning to untangle the threads that looked socomplicated. Ah, what is that? Why, it's that bird! His cage must bevery nearly under this hole."
"A little to one side, madam, but near enough to give you a start. Whatwas it he cried then?"
"Oh, those sympathetic words about Eva! 'Poor Eva!'"
"Well, give a glance to Bartow. You can see him very well from here."
Miss Butterworth put her eye again to the opening, and gave a grunt, avery decided grunt. With her a grunt was significant of surprise.
"He is shaking his fist;
he is all alive with passion. He looks as if hewould like to kill the bird."
"Perhaps that is why the creature was strung up so high. You may be sureMr. Adams had some basis for his idiosyncrasies."
"I begin to think so. I don't know that I care to go back where that manis. He has a very murderous look."
"And a very feeble arm, Miss Butterworth. You are safe under myprotection. My arm is not feeble."
A-Table. B-Small Stand. C-Door to Bedroom. D-Evelyn'sPicture E-Loophole on Stair Landing. F-Entrance to Study.] [1]
[Footnote 1: Since my readers may not understand how an opening abovethe stairway might communicate with Mr. Adams's study, I here submit adiagram of the same. The study walls were very high, forming a roundedextension at the back of the house.]
The Circular Study Page 8