CHAPTER VI
JACK TELLS THE STORY
This chapter in our composite story falls to me, not because I can writeit better but because I was present at that strange interview whichchanged the whole face of the Harland case. Even now I can feel thetightening of the muscles, the horrified chill, as we learned, in one ofthe most unexpected and startling revelations ever made in a lawyer'soffice, the true significance of the supposed suicide.
It was the morning after the night ride of Babbitts and O'Mally, and Iwas late at the office. The matter had been arranged after I left theevening before and I knew nothing of it. As I entered the building I raninto Babbitts, who was going to the Whitney offices to report on hisfailure and in the hopes that some new lead might have cropped up.Drawing me to the side of the hall he told me of their expedition. Ilistened with the greatest interest and surprise. It struck me asamazing and rather horrible. Until I heard it I had not believed thestory of the typewriter girl--that Barker was in love with MissWhitehall--but in the face of such evidence I had nothing to say.
We were both so engrossed that neither noticed a woman holding a childby the hand and moving uncertainly about our vicinity. It wasn't tillthe story was over and we were walking toward the elevator that I wasconscious of her, looking this way and that, jostled by the men andevidently scared and bewildered. Judging her too timid to ask her way,and too unused to such surroundings--she looked poor and shabby--toconsult the office directory on the wall, I stopped and asked her whereshe wanted to go.
She gave a start and said with a brogue as rich as butter:
"It's to L'yer Whitney's office I'm bound, but where is it I don't knowand it's afeared I am to be demandin' the way with everyone runnin' byme like hares."
"I'm going there myself," I said, "I'll take you."
She bubbled out in relieved thanks and followed us into the elevator. Asthe car shot up I looked her over wondering what she could want with thechief. She was evidently a working woman, neatly dressed in a dark coatand small black hat under which her hair was drawn back smooth andtight. Her face was of the best Irish type, round, rosy and honest. Oneof her hands clasped the child's, his little fingers crumpled inside herrough, red ones. She addressed him as "Dannie," and when passengerscrowded in and out, drew him up against her, with a curious, softtenderness that seemed instinctive.
He was a pale, thin little chap, eight or nine, with large, gray eyes,that he'd lift to the faces round him with a solemn, searching look. Ismiled down at him but didn't get any response, and it struck me thatboth of them--woman and boy--were in a state of suppressed nervousness.Every time the gate clanged she'd jump, and once I heard her mutter tohim "not to be scared."
Inside the office Babbitts went up the hall to the old man's den and Itried to find out what she wanted. Her nervousness was then obvious.Shifting from foot to foot, her free hand--she kept a tight clutch onthe boy--fingering at the buttons of her coat, she refused to say. All Icould get out of her was that she had something important to tell andshe wouldn't tell it to anyone but "L'yer Whitney."
By this time my curiosity was aroused. I asked her if she was a witnessin a case, and with a troubled look she said "maybe she was," and then,backing away from me against the wall, reiterated with stubborndetermination, "But I won't speak to no one but L'yer Whitney himself."
I went up to the private office where the old man and George weretalking with Babbitts and told them. George was sent to see if he couldmanage better than I had and presently was back again with theannouncement:
"I can't get a thing out of her. She insists on seeing you, father, andsays she won't go till she does."
"Bring her in," growled the chief, and as George disappeared he turnedto Babbitts and said, "Wait here for a moment. I want to ask you a fewmore things about that girl last night."
Babbitts drew back to the window and I, taking a chair by the table,said, laughing:
"She's probably been sued by her landlord and wants you to take thecase."
"Maybe," said the old man quietly. "I'm curious to see."
Just then the woman came in, the child beside her, and George following.She looked at the chief with a steady, inquiring gaze, and he rose, asurbanely welcoming as if she were a star client.
"You want to see me, Madam?"
"I do," she answered, "if you're L'yer Whitney. For it's to no one elseI'll be goin' with what I'm bringin'."
He assured her she'd found the right man, and waved her to a chair. Shesat down, drawing the boy against her knee, the chief opposite, leaninga little forward in his chair, all encouraging attention.
"Well, what is it?" he said.
"It's about the Harland suicide," she answered, "and it's my husband,Dan Meagher, who drives a dray for the Panama Fruit Company, who's sentme here. 'Go to L'yer Whitney and tell him,' he says to me, 'and don'tbe sayin' a word to a soul, not your own mother if she was above the sodto hear ye.'"
George, who had been standing by the table with the sardonic smile heaffects, suddenly became grave and dropped into a chair. The chief,nodding pleasantly, said:
"The Harland suicide, Mrs. Meagher; that's very good. We'd like anyinformation you can give us about it."
The woman fetched up a breath so deep it was almost a gasp. With hereyes on the old man she bent forward, her words, with their rich rollingr's, singularly impressive.
"It's an honest woman I am, your Honor, and what I'll be after tellin'you is God's truth for me and for Dannie here, who's never lied sincethe day he was born."
The little boy looked up and spoke, his voice clear and piping, afterthe fuller tones of his mother:
"I'm not lying."
"Let's hear this straight, Mrs. Meagher," said the chief. "I'm a littleconfused. Is it you or the boy here that knows something?"
"_Him_," she said, putting her hand on the child's shoulder, "he _seensomething_. It's this way, your Honor. I'm one of the cleaners in theMassasoit Building. The three top floors is mine and I go on duty to ridup the offices from five till eight. It's my habit to take Dannie withme, he bein', as maybe you can see, delicate since he had the typhoid,and not allowed to go to school yet or run on the street."
"I empty the trash baskets," piped up the little boy.
"Don't speak, Dannie, till your evidence is wanted," said she. "On theevenin' of the suicide, L'yer Whitney, I was doin' my chores on theseventeenth floor, in the Macauley-Blake Company's offices, they bein',as you may know, at the back of the buildin'. I was through with theouter room by a quarter past six, so I turned off the lights and wentinto the inner room, closin' the door, as I had the window open anddidn't want the cold air on the boy."
"You left him in the room that looks over the houses to the front of theBlack Eagle Building?"
"By the window," spoke up the little boy. "I was leanin' there lookin'out."
"That's it," said she. "The office was dark and as I shut the door Iseen him, by the sill, peerin' over some books they had there." She tookthe little boy's hand and, fondling it in hers, said, "Now, Dannie, tellhis Honor what you saw, same as you tolt Paw and me this day." Sheturned to the chief. "It's no lie he'll be after sayin', L'yer Whitney,I'll swear that on the Book."
The little boy raised his big eyes to the old man's and spoke, clearlyand slowly:
"I was lookin' acrost at the Black Eagle Building, at the windowsopposite. On the floor right level with me they was all dark, 'cept thehall one. That was lit and I could see down into the hall, and there wasno one in it. Suddent a door opened, the one nearest to the window, anda head come out and looked quick up and down and then acrost to ourbuilding. Then it went in and I was thinkin' how it couldn't see mebecause it was all dark where I was, when the door opened again, slow,and an awful sort of thing came out."
He stopped and turned to his mother, shrinking and scared. She put herarm round him and coaxed softly:
"Don't be afeart, darlint. Go on, now, and tell it like you tolt it tome and Paw at breakfast."
Th
e old man was motionless, his face as void of expression as a stonemask. George was leaning forward, his elbows on the table, his eyes onthe boy in a fixed stare.
"What was it you saw, Dannie?" said the chief, his voice sounding deepas an organ after that moment of breathless hush. "Don't be afraid totell us."
The boy spoke again, pressing back against his mother:
"It was like an animal creepin' along, crouched down----"
"Show the gentlemen," said Mrs. Meagher, and without more urging thelittle chap slid down to the floor on his hands and knees and beganpadding about, bent as low as he could. It was a queer sight, believeme--the tiny figure creeping stealthily along the carpet--and we fourmen, all but the old man, now up on our feet, leaning forward to watchwith faces of amazement.
"That way," he said, looking up sideways. "Just like that--awful quickfrom the door to the window." He rose and went back to his mother,cowering against her. "I thought it was some kind of bear, and I wasterrible scairt. I was so scairt I couldn't raise a yell or make a breakor nothin'. I stood lookin' and I saw it was a man, and----" He stopped,terrified memory halting the words.
She had to coax again, her arm around him, her face close to his.
"Go on, Dannie boy, you want the gintlemin to think you're the brave manthat ye are. Go on, now, lamb." Over his head she looked at the chiefand said, "It's a sight might have froze the heart of anyone, let alonea pore, sickly kid."
The boy went on, almost in a whisper:
"He had another man on his back, still, like he was dead, with his armshangin' down. I could see the hands draggin' along the floor like theywas bits of rope. And when he got to the window, quick--I never seennothin' so quick--the one that was creepin' slid the other on to thesill. He done it this way." He crouched down on his knees with his handsraised over his head and made a forward, shoving motion. "Pushing himout. Just for a second I could see the dead one, acrost the sill, withhis head down, and then the other gave a big shove and he went over."
There was a moment of dead silence in which you could hear the tick ofthe clock on the mantel. I had an impression of Babbitts, his face fullof horror, and George, bent across the table, biting on his under lip.Only the old man held his pose of bland stolidity.
"And what did the man--the one that was on his knees--do then, Dannie?"he asked gently.
"He got up and made a break for the door. Whisht," he shot one palmacross the other with a swift gesture--"like that, and went in."
"Which door was that--which side?"
Dannie waved his right hand.
"This one--the door he came out of--this side!"
"The Azalea Woods Estates," came from George.
The old man gave him a quick glance, a razor-sharp reproof, and turningto Dannie held out his hand.
"Well, Dannie, that's a wonderful story, and it's great the way you tellit. Let's shake on it." The little boy stepped forward and put hissmall, thin paw in the chief's big palm. "You've told it to all thefellows on the block, haven't you?"
Dannie shook his head.
"I ain't told it to a soul till this mornin', when I couldn't hold it nomore and let out to Paw and Maw."
"Why didn't you tell?"
"I was scairt. I didn't want to. I kep' dreamin' of it at night and Ididn't know what to do. And this mornin' when Paw and Maw was gassin'about the suicide I just busted out. I--I----" his lips trembled and thetears welled into his eyes.
"It's thrue what he says, every word," said Mrs. Meagher. "It's sickhe's been ever sence, and me crazy not knowin' what was eatin' into him.And this mornin' he breaks into a holler and out it comes."
As she was speaking the old man patted the thin hand, eyeing the childwith a deep, quiet kindliness.
"You're a wise boy, Dannie," said he. "And you want to keep on being awise boy and not tell anyone. Will you answer a question or two, sayingwhen you don't know or don't remember? I'll see that you get somethingpretty nice afterward, if you do."
"Yes," says Dannie, "I'll answer."
"Could you see what the man looked like, the man that was alive?"
"No--I wasn't near enough. They was like--like"--he paused and thensaid, his eyes showing a troubled bewilderment--"like shadows."
"He would have seen the figures in silhouette," George explained, "blackagainst the lit window."
"That's it," he turned eagerly to George. "And it was acrost the streetand the houses on Broadway."
"Um," said the chief, "too far for any detail. Well, this man, the onethat went on his hands and knees, was he a fat man?"
The child shook his head.
"No, sir. He--he was just like lots of men."
"Now look over these three gentlemen," said the chief, waving his handat us. "Which of them looks most like him? Not their faces, but theirbodies."
Dannie looked at us critically and carefully. His eye passed quicklyover Babbitts, medium height, broad and stocky, lingered on me, six feettwo with the longest reach in my class at Harvard, then brought up onGeorge, who tips the beam at one hundred and sixty pounds.
"Most like him," he said, pointing a little finger at the junior memberof Whitney & Whitney. "Skinny like him."
"Very well done, Dannie," said the old man, then turned to George."Lightly built. He would have no means of judging height."
George took up the interrogation:
"Could you see at all what kind of clothes he wore?"
"No--he went too quick."
"And he looked over at your building?"
"Yes--but he couldn't have seen anything. Maw's floors was all dark."
"Did you see him come out of the room again?"
"No. I was that scairt I crep' away back to where Maw was."
"Come in to me like a specter," said Mrs. Meagher. "And not a word outof him only that he was cold."
"Well, Mrs. Meagher," said the chief, "this is a great service you'vedone us, and it's up to us to do something for you."
"Oh, your Honor," she answered, "it's not pay I'm wantin'. It was mydooty and I done it. Now, Dannie boy, it's time we was gettin' home."
"Wait a moment," said the old man. "You say your husband's a drayman.Tell him to come and see me--my home's the best place--this evening ifpossible. And tell him--and this applies as much to you"--his bushybrows came down over his eyes and his expression grew lowering--"not tomention one word of this. If you keep your mouths shut, your future'smade. If you blab"--he raised a warning finger and shook it fiercely inher face--"God help you."
Mrs. Meagher looked terrified. She clutched Dannie and drew him againsther skirts.
"It's not a word I'll be after sayin', your Honor," she faltered. "I'llswear it before the priest."
"That's right. I'll see the priest about it." He suddenly changed,straightened up, and was the genial old gentleman who could put theshyest witness at his ease. "The little chap doesn't look strong. NewYork's no place for him. He ought to run wild in the country for a bit."
"Ah, don't be after sayin' it," she shook her head wistfully. "That'swhat the doctor tolt me. But what can a poor scrubwoman do?"
"Not as much, maybe, as a lawyer can. You leave that to me. I'll see hegoes and you'll be along. All I ask in return is"--he put his finger onhis lips--"just one word--silence."
She tried to say something, but laughing and pooh-poohing her attemptsat thanks, he walked her to the door.
"There--there--no back-talk. Hustle along now, and don't forget, I wantto see Dan Meagher tonight. Ask the clerk in the waiting room for theaddress. Good-bye." He shook hands with her and patted Dannie on theshoulder. "A month on a farm and you won't know this boy. Good-bye andgood luck to you!"
As the door shut on her his whole expression and manner changed. Heturned back to the room, his hands deep in his pockets, his shouldershunched, his eyes, under the drooping thatch of his hair, looking fromone to the other of us.
"Well, gentlemen?" he said.
"_Murder!_" came from George on a rising breath.
"Mur
der," repeated his father. "A fact that I've suspected since theinquest."
The Black Eagle Mystery Page 6