In Jeopardy
the instant it seemed as though the room was empty, and Effingham says
he heard Marcus exclaim: 'Marse Francis he done gone out!' Then as the
boy drew level with the high leather screen, standing at the right of
the big desk as one enters the room, he saw the body, yelled in terror,
and bolted. Miss Trevor had fainted----"
"When? Exactly when?" I broke in.
"I don't know," returned Marcy. "It may have been before she heard
Marcus scream, and it may have been after. I dare say everybody's nerves
were pretty tense by this time."
"Well, Effingham seems to have kept his head. He ordered out the other
servants, had Miss Trevor carried into the dining room, where she
quickly revived, and finally he telephoned for me."
"At Miss Trevor's request?"
"At Miss Trevor's request. That brings us up again to my arrival on the
scene, and my first hasty impressions.
"As I have said, Mr. Graeme lay face downward alongside the desk, just
hidden by the screen from the gaze of anyone entering the room from the
hall. Since the head was turned slightly to the right, the wound was not
visible unless one knelt, as I did, directly beside the body.
"Now a wound of this nature could have been received in two easily
understandable ways. Either Mr. Graeme, overcome with vertigo, had
fallen and hit his head against some sharp corner, or he had been
attacked and struck down by a weapon in the hands of some unknown
assailant.
"Hypothesis No. 1, or the accident theory. I can state positively that
Francis Graeme was not in the least subject to vertigo or fainting
spells, and there was nothing to indicate an ordinary trip-up and fall.
There is no rug at this point, the floor while smooth is not noticeably
slippery, and Graeme was dressed for golf, wearing rubber-soled shoes
which must have given him a particularly firm footing. Finally, there
was no apparent sharp corner on which his head could have struck. From
the position of the body it was clear that he had fallen entirely clear
of the writing-desk."
"That seems to dispose of the accident theory."
"Seems to--yes. But it's still a possibility that he might have fallen
and struck on something calculated to inflict an injury of this nature,
a something which was afterward removed."
"By whom?"
"Who knows? There was time enough for many things to happen between my
departure from the house and the discovery of the body. In the meantime
no one, supposedly, saw him. So nearly as I can determine, he died a
little after twelve o'clock, but the door was not opened until two. A
person who knew the house well could have secured the master-key,
entered the room, and left it again with little danger of detection."
"It's an impertinent observation, Doctor Marcy, but you say that _no
one_ saw Mr. Graeme alive after your departure from the library at ten
o'clock?"
"Oh, I have my alibi straight enough," smiled the doctor. "Miss Trevor
happened to be passing through the hall as I left the room. I stopped
and spoke to her, made some jesting remark about Graeme's being good for
a thousand years, more or less. At that same moment he came to the
library door and waved his hand to us both; then he turned back, and we
heard the click of the spring-latch. I believe that he usually set the
catch when he wanted to make sure of not being disturbed.
"Now we come to hypothesis No. 2, the possible assailant. The door
leading into the hall was locked. There are no roof openings. The
windows of stained glass in leaded frames are immovable; otherwise there
would be danger of the valuable glass being broken or knocked out
through an accidental jar. But for purposes of ventilation there is
inserted in each section a pridella. Ah, you don't understand--come over
here."
Doctor Marcy conducted me across the room to the window on the right of
the fireplace, the one depicting the return of the spies from the land
of Canaan. "You will notice," he said, "that there are three panels in
the window, each carrying a part of the general picture. Then, in the
lower part of the central panel, there is a small subsidiary scene; in
this particular case it represents a field of waving wheat in which
scarlet poppies are interspersed. This section is technically called the
pridella. Being small and exactly square in shape it can be easily
hinged. See, I pull the cord that controls the locking-catch--thus--and
this small window swings open.
"Tuesday the twenty-first of June was a warm day, and the pridella in
each of the large windows was in use. Now the available aperture is
about twenty inches by ten, the glass revolving on central pivots. A
boy, or a very small man, might possibly squeeze through, but the bottom
ledge of the window being some five feet above the terrace level he
would have to use a ladder or a pair of steps in order to reach it. Now,
as it chanced, that portion of the lawn lying adjacent to the library
terrace was in process of being mowed that morning. I saw the men at
work, two of the farm negroes. Assuredly they would have noticed any
attempt to scale the windows."
"They themselves are quite above suspicion, I suppose."
"Unquestionably. They are elderly men who have been employed at the
'Hundred' all their lives, and who bear excellent characters. Zack is
the local colored Baptist preacher, and Zeb is an assistant field
overseer. Impossible to suspect either, let alone both."
"Wouldn't they knock off for dinner at noon? Go to their cabins, I
mean."
"Ordinarily, yes. But on Tuesday Mandy, Zack's wife, went to Calverton,
and didn't return until late in the evening, or afternoon, as you would
say. Accordingly she made up pail dinners for both Zack and Zeb, the
latter being a boarder in their family. The men ate their food in the
shadow of the osage hedge directly opposite the terrace; Effingham saw
them and told me so."
"You seem to have covered the ground pretty thoroughly," I observed
approvingly.
"And for good reasons, too," remarked the doctor. "For if I really
believed the circumstances warranted the step it would be my duty to
communicate my suspicions to the coroner."
"Then you haven't done so!" I was surprised and doubtless my voice
showed it.
"No," assented Marcy deliberately. "In the first place I was determined
to keep every
[Note: There was a misprint here in the book. Instead of the end of this
paragraph, the preceding paragraph was duplicated.]
I started; I fancied that I had caught just the faintest suggestion of a
sigh. Let me explain that the great room was in darkness except for the
circle of yellow light cast by the shaded lamp that stood on a table at
my right. I listened intently, but I could hear nothing more.
Chapter V
_The Missing Link_
"I beg your pardon," repeated Doctor Marcy, looking at me uncertainly.
"I should beg yours, doctor," I answered as easily as I could. Some
sixth sense had made me aware that Betty Graeme was standing in the
shadow behind me. She must have heard more than enough already, and now
she would demand the whole truth. Assuredly I must protect her in her
evident desire to remain unnoticed.
"I didn't mean to interrupt," I continued, "but my cigarette was burning
my fingers--too much interested, you see."
"Secondly, then," went on Doctor Marcy, "I have found the missing
'something' that serves to link up the chain."
The doctor took a small key from his waist-coat pocket and proceeded to
unlock a compartment in the great, flat-topped desk, the latter
constructed after the usual design with a set of drawers, and other
storage places, on either side of a central well for the accommodation
of the writer's feet and legs. From this compartment he unearthed a
despatch box made of iron, an old-fashioned piece that might have come
down from Revolutionary days. It measured about fifteen inches, by ten,
by seven; and the corners were bound in brass.
"Yes, it could have done the business without a doubt," said Marcy,
answering my unuttered question. "The box must have been standing on the
floor near the screen. Francis Graeme rises, perhaps with the intention
of picking it up. He suffers a cerebral rush of blood, becomes dizzy,
falls, and strikes his head against this sharp corner. A severe blow in
the region of the temple may be instantaneously fatal."
There was a rustle of feminine garments, and my Cousin Betty came from
behind the screen and stood before us. "There is only one flaw in your
argument, doctor," she said, with just the thin edge of a tremor in her
high, sweet voice. "Where was that box when you first came in the room
and knelt by my--my father?"
"Sorry you had to know, my girl," said the doctor; he had risen and was
standing close to her, holding both her hands in his own big, warm
palms. "Sorry you had to know," he repeated. "But since it has come
about I shan't be keeping anything back. I wanted to spare you."
"Yes, I understand that," she returned, "and I'm grateful, too. Yet
after deciding that an inquest is not necessary, after signing a
certificate that death was due to natural causes, you're not satisfied
in your own mind. I come in here and find you telling my Cousin Hugh
that there is some mystery in the affair, that all is not straight and
aboveboard. You even offer a perfectly plausible explanation of what--of
what really happened. Yes, and I would have accepted it like everyone
else--only for one thing----"
"Yes?" queried the doctor.
"I'll put my question again. Where was that iron despatch-box when you
first entered the room, and saw--well, what you saw?"
Doctor Marcy waited a moment or two before replying. "There isn't any
doubt in my mind," he began, "but that your father did fall and that the
contusion on his forehead was caused by that actual iron box. I confess
that I didn't notice it when I first saw the body and knelt down to feel
the pulse. I assume that it had been accidentally pushed out of sight in
the angle formed by the screen and the desk; it was just there that I
found it later on."
"On your second visit to the room?"
"Yes."
"Well, suppose you tell Cousin Hugh what you were doing in the interval.
I want to see if his mind will work in the same direction as mine."
"I had stepped into the hall just in time to see you riding up the green
drive," said the doctor, "and I realized that someone must prepare you
for what had happened. I asked Miss Trevor to do it, but she insisted
that she could not go through the ordeal. Consequently, I put Effingham
on guard at the library door with instructions to let no one pass; then
I went down to the horse-block and assisted you to dismount. You saw
instantly that something was wrong, and you begged me to tell you the
truth. But I would not say a word until we were in the parlor. Then I
admitted that your father had met with an accident. Before I could
prevent it you had rushed into the hall and down to the library door."
"Go on," ordered Betty, as he hesitated. "Tell Cousin Hugh who was
standing there."
"It was Miss Trevor," said Doctor Marcy, dropping his voice and glancing
over at me.
"It wasn't the time to ask for an explanation," continued the doctor.
"You remember, Betty, that Eunice took you in her arms, and told you
very gently what had happened. She tried to persuade you not to go in
the room, but you refused to be put off. Effingham came and unlocked the
door; you and I went in and looked at him still lying by the side of the
big desk. It was then that I saw the despatch-box, and wondered why I
had not noticed it before, especially as it was just the link that I
needed to fit into the accident hypothesis."
"I don't think I have any theory," answered Doctor Marcy. "Up to this
moment my mind had been more concerned with the stark fact of Graeme's