In Jeopardy
death than with the predisposing cause. Of course I had taken the temple
bruise into account, and in a superficial way it seemed to explain
everything. But I really hadn't tried to formulate my ideas clearly. The
thought of you, Betty, had presented itself, and I was chiefly engaged
in wondering how you were to be told and how you would take the shock."
"But afterwards?" persisted Betty.
"Then I tried to build up the accident theory. Everything fitted
beautifully except for the little uncertainty about the despatch-box."
"May I ask a question or two," I interrupted.
"Surely."
"You say that you left Effingham to guard the library door while you
went to meet my Cousin Betty?"
"Yes."
"How long were you away?"
"Approximately five minutes."
"And when you again came to the library door Miss Trevor was standing
there and Effingham was gone?"
"Yes."
"Then it is possible that Miss Trevor may have entered the room--let us
say--for the purpose of replacing the despatch-box in its original
position?"
"Possible--yes."
"Which implies that she must have paid a previous visit to the room and
carried the box away?"
"If you like."
"We assume that the despatch-box held important papers belonging to Mr.
Graeme----"
"Including his will," interjected Miss Graeme.
"But I thought that Mr. Eldon----" I began in surprise.
"I was referring to an earlier will," returned my Cousin Betty. "But I
forget that you don't know about that. It reads exactly like the present
one except that John Thaneford is named as the residual heir."
"Did anyone, besides Mr. Eldon, know that a later will--the one in my
favor--had been made?"
"Yes. Father told Eunice and me that he had decided to make the change.
He had met you in Philadelphia and liked you. He made inquiries about
you and what he heard increased that liking. He had never cared
over-much for John, and had considered him only as representing the
Hildebrand family, the heirs of the blood. He was delighted to discover
that your relationship was quite as close as that of John Thaneford;
moreover, you possessed the advantage of bearing the actual name."
"Did Eunice offer any objection to the change?" asked Doctor Marcy.
"Why, no," returned Betty, knitting her brows. "Her advice in the matter
had not been asked, and she would hardly have offered it. I don't
remember that she said anything at all."
"How about you?"
Betty colored. "I did suggest to father that he needn't be in such a
hurry," she answered. And then with a quick glance at me: "You see,
Cousin Hugh, none of us had met you outside of father himself. You might
be very nice and probably were, but the acquaintance had been so short,
and he might have been deceived. We women tried to persuade him that he
had been a little hasty; we wanted him to wait until you had paid that
projected visit to the 'Hundred' and given us the chance to look you
over."
"We!" put in the doctor significantly. "So it appears that Eunice did
take a hand in the discussion."
"Oh, in that way--why, yes. We felt exactly alike about it, knowing that
father was apt to be too generous in his estimate of the people he met;
he had been cheated so many times."
I began to feel a trifle embarrassed, and Betty, in that wonderful way
of hers, divined it instantly. Not that she said anything. She just
looked at me again, and I understood that I need no longer consider
myself rated as a doubtful quantity; a mightily cheering thought I found
it.
"Was Eunice persistent in her endeavor to change Mr. Graeme's
resolution?" asked Doctor Marcy.
"You mean about cutting out John and putting in Mr. Hugh Hildebrand?"
"Yes."
"Persistent! Well, I dare say you could have called it that," replied
Betty thoughtfully. "She certainly said several times that John
Thaneford believed himself entitled to the property; she pointed out
that when father succeeded his cousin, Richard Hildebrand, he had as
much as promised to make such disposition of the 'Hundred.'"
"Which he really had done," I suggested. "The first will was in
existence; only now he proposed to alter it."
"Yes."
"Suppose Mr. Graeme had died intestate," I went on. "What then?"
"I dare say the real property would have gone to Betty as his legally
adopted daughter," answered Doctor Marcy.
"No, not legally," explained Betty, much to our surprise. "My name is
really Graeme, but it comes to me from my own father who was Francis
Graeme's older brother. I was only a baby when my parents died, and my
uncle simply took charge of me. It didn't seem necessary to take out
formal adoption papers, and anyhow it was never done."
"Oh, undoubtedly there would have been a lawsuit, in the event of no
will," remarked the doctor. "Both Betty and John Thaneford could put in
the claim of blood relationship; you, too, Mr. Hildebrand, if it comes
to that. Bear in mind there is no entail."
"Was Mr. John Thaneford aware that there had been a will drawn in his
favor?" I asked.
"I can't say, Cousin Hugh. Probably not, for even I never heard of it
until father announced that he intended to supersede it."
"When did that particular conversation take place?"
"To-day is Thursday; just a week ago then."
"Mr. Graeme himself may have spoken to Thaneford."
"About what?" put in Doctor Marcy. "The making of the first will, or the
fact that he had determined to alter it?"
"Well, he might have told him the whole story."
The doctor shook his head. "I doubt it very much," he said. "Graeme had
grown to dislike John Thaneford--dislike him intensely."
"Why?"
Doctor Marcy did not reply in words, but eyebrows rose significantly as
he glanced in Betty's direction.
"Confining ourselves to facts," continued the doctor, "it can be
established that a will was made in favor of John Thaneford, and that
Mr. Graeme had determined to set it aside. That first will was kept by
Mr. Graeme in this very despatch-box; it is there now."
Doctor Marcy selected another small key from his bunch, and opened the
iron box. "You know I am a co-executor with Henry Powers," he said, "and
so I am acting within my rights." He took out a number of legal papers,
and presently offered one for our inspection. It was a testamentary
document precisely like the will read by Mr. Eldon, except that the
residuary estate went to John Thaneford instead of Hugh Hildebrand. It
was dated some six months back.
"And was the second will, the one in my favor, also kept in this box?" I
asked.
"No," answered Doctor Marcy. "Mr. Eldon, who of course drew it, had
retained it in his own possession. You see, it had only been executed a
few days ago; to be exact, the Friday before Mr. Graeme's death. Perhaps
Mr. Eldon persuaded Mr. Graeme to let him keep it locked up in the
office safe, at least temporarily."
"Yet someone, who knew Mr. Graeme's habits and about this despatch-box,
may have come to the conclusion that the new will was kept in the same
place as the old one."
Doctor Marcy nodded. "It follows," he said meditatively, "that on the
morning of June 21 'someone' obtained possession of the master-key and
entered the library with a definite purpose in view, a purpose
identified with the contents of that iron despatch-box. That is your
idea?"
"And the obvious criticism is that the master-key would hardly have been
used at a time when Mr. Graeme was actually occupying the room."
"Well, 'someone' may have expected to find the tragical situation which
we know existed; a forewarning had been received that there would be no
human obstacle to the search for the iron despatch-box. Whereupon the
entrance was made and the box was found. There was no attempt to examine
its contents on the spot."
"Why not?"
"There was danger in remaining in the room, and the papers were too
numerous to be sorted out at a glance. Or some outside disturbance may
have occurred to frighten the intruder. At any rate, 'someone' withdrew,
taking the despatch-box along for leisurely examination."
"Then it was not this 'someone' who killed Mr. Graeme," I remarked.
"No one ever intimated it," returned the doctor. "Remember that Graeme
sat with his back to the fireplace and windows, and facing the entrance
door. It would not be easy for 'someone' to unlock the door, pass to the
vicinity of the writing desk, and strike the fatal blow--all without
attracting the attention of the victim. Now no sounds of a struggle were
heard by anyone, and there was nothing in the disposition of the body to
suggest a physical encounter. No, you can't get away from the plain and
simple facts: Mr. Graeme is taken with vertigo; he staggers and falls;
his temple comes into contact with the sharp corner of that iron
despatch-box; he becomes unconscious immediately, and shortly afterwards
he dies. What more do you want to know?"
"So that is what killed him?"
"If I were perfectly convinced of the truth of my own theory," returned
the doctor, "would I have ever intimated to you, Mr. Hildebrand, that
there was something odd about the business? Betty put her finger at once
upon what had been vaguely in my mind. _Where was that despatch-box when
I first entered the room and found Francis Graeme lying dead upon the
floor?_ I don't know, do you?"
"There ought to be an inquest," I declared. "And of course an autopsy.
You are willing?" I asked, turning to Betty.
"Yes."
"Then it is decided. Who is the coroner, Doctor Marcy?"
"John Thaneford."
For a moment I thought the doctor guilty of execrably bad taste in
making a joke of the matter; then I saw that he was in sober earnest.
"For some extraordinary reason," he explained, "Thaneford took it into
his head to try the political game. The local Democratic slate had
already been made up, but he was told that he could have one of the
minor offices. Accordingly, he accepted the nomination for coroner and
was elected by the usual party majority."
"Well, he is sworn to do his duty," I persisted.
"Surely."
"Suppose we present what evidence we have to-morrow, including, of
course, the withdrawal of your original death certificate, Doctor
Marcy."
"It may get me into all sorts of trouble," commented the doctor
ruefully. "But there's nothing else to be done; I see that clearly. The
bare thought that Francis Graeme, he of all men--sorry, Betty, my girl!
I dare say this is getting a bit too much for you."
My cousin Betty had broken down and was crying softly on Doctor Marcy's
broad shoulder; he petted her and talked to her as though she had been a
little child.
And so at last we parted for the night, Doctor Marcy taking up his
quarters in an anteroom adjoining the sick chamber, and Betty deciding
to seek companionship with Miss Trevor. I tumbled into bed at once, but
it was many an hour before sleep came to me.
Chapter VI
"_Madame Colette Marinette._"
Dr. Marcy was the first person to join me in the breakfast room the
following morning. To my surprise, he informed me that Mr. Fielding
Thaneford had passed a comfortable night and was better. "Of course I am
speaking in comparative terms," he added. "The old man has had a stroke
of apoplexy. He is partially paralyzed on the right side, and his power
of speech is gone entirely. He cannot recover, but he may linger on for
some time."
"A week?"
"Perhaps longer. It is impossible to say--and here comes John."
The younger Thaneford favored us with a short nod and an unintelligible
word, and demanded of Effingham a full pot of coffee, strong and hot. I
made some obligatory enquiries, in my capacity of host, but my unwelcome
guest gave me only the curtest of replies. Nevertheless I felt
sufficiently large-minded to make allowances. After all, the man had
received two pretty severe blows, in the loss of his inheritance and in