The Hand in the Dark
position of the witness.
The case so far puzzled him, and Miss Heredith's answers to his
questions revealed little about the murder that he had not previously
known. The only additional facts he gleaned related to the murdered
girl's brief existence at the moat-house; of her earlier history and her
London life Miss Heredith knew nothing whatever. Merrington made some
notes of the replies in an imposing pocket-book, but he was plainly
dissatisfied as he turned to another phase of the investigation.
"Were all your guests in the dining-room at the time the scream and the
shot were heard?" he asked.
"They were all there when I left the room. The butler can tell you if
any left afterwards."
"I will question Tufnell on that point later. No, on second thoughts, it
will be better to settle it now. I attach importance to it."
Tufnell was recalled to the room, and, in reply to Superintendent
Merrington's question, stated that none of the guests left the
dining-room before the shot was fired. Tufnell added they were all
interested in listening to a story that Mr. Musard was telling. Having
imparted this information the butler returned to the breakfast room,
overweighted with the responsibility of superintending the morning meal
in his mistress's absence.
"Is this Musard the jewel expert of that name?" asked Merrington.
"Our guest is Mr. Vincent Musard, the explorer," replied Miss Heredith
coldly.
"The same man." Merrington made another minute note in his pocket-book,
and continued, "May I take it, then, that all your guests who were
staying here were assembled in the dining-room at the time the murder
was committed?"
"Yes; except one who left during the afternoon."
"Who was that?"
"Captain Nepcote, a friend of my nephew's. He received a telegram
recalling him to the front, and returned to London by the afternoon
train."
Merrington made a note of this in his pocket-book with an air of
finality, and asked Miss Heredith to see that the servants were sent to
the library one by one, to be questioned. Miss Heredith said she would
arrange it with the housekeeper, and was then politely escorted to the
door by Captain Stanhill.
The next few hours were educative for Captain Stanhill. Although he was
Chief Constable of Sussex, he took no part in the proceedings, but sat
at the table like a man in a dream, living in a world of Superintendent
Merrington's creation--a world of sinister imaginings and vile motives,
through which stealthy suspicion prowled craftily with padded feet,
seeking a victim among the procession of weeping maids, stolid
under-gardeners, stable hands, and anxious upper servants who presented
themselves in the library to be questioned. But it seemed to Captain
Stanhill that though the women were flustered and the men nervous, they
knew nothing whatever about the atrocious murder which had been
committed a few hours before in the room above their heads. Merrington
also seemed to be aware that he was getting no nearer the truth with his
traps, his questions, and his bullying, and he grew so angry and savage
as the day wore on that he reminded Captain Stanhill of a bull he had
once seen trying to rend a way through a mesh. As the morning advanced,
Merrington's face took on a deeper tint of purple, his fierce little
eyes grew more bloodshot, and between the intervals of examining the
servants he mopped his perspiring head with a large handkerchief.
The significance of one fact he did not realize until afterwards. The
last of the inmates of the moat-house to come to the library was the
housekeeper, Mrs. Rath, who presented herself at his request in order to
acquaint him with the details of the domestic management of the
household. Mrs. Rath entered the room with a nervous air. Her white face
contrasted oddly with her black dress, and her hands shook slightly, in
spite of her effort to appear composed. Merrington stared at her
careworn face and hollow grey eyes with the perplexed sensation of a man
who is confronted with a face familiar to him, but is unable to recall
its identity.
"Where have I seen you before?" he blurted out.
The housekeeper raised frightened eyes, ringed with black, to his
truculent face, but dropped them again without speaking. Merrington did
not repeat his question. He did not imagine the housekeeper knew
anything about the murder, but it was a mistake to put a witness on her
guard. It was in quite a different tone that he thanked Mrs. Rath for
sending the servants to the library, and asked her to describe the
household arrangements of the previous night. Mrs. Rath, who had been
palpably nervous after his first question, became reassured and more at
her ease, and answered him intelligently.
"And where were you at the time of the murder, Mrs. Rath?" pursued
Merrington, when he had drawn forth these details.
"I was in my sitting-room."
"Did you hear the scream and the shot?"
"I heard the scream, but not the shot."
"How was that?"
"My sitting-room is a long way from Mrs. Heredith's room. Perhaps that
is the reason."
Merrington looked at the position of the housekeeper's room on the plan
of the moat-house which Caldew had drawn. As she said, it was a
considerable distance to her room, which was in the old portion of the
house, near the rear, and on the ground floor.
"Were you alone in your room?" he asked.
"No. My daughter was sitting with me."
To a quick ear it may have seemed that the answer was a trifle long in
coming.
Merrington shook his head irritably. Really, it seemed impossible to
reach the end of the people who were in this infernal moat-house at the
time of the murder.
"Does your daughter live with you here?" he asked.
"Oh, no. She came to see me yesterday afternoon, and stayed all night
because she missed her train back after--after the tragedy."
"Is she here now?"
"No. She went away by an early train. She is employed as a milliner at
Stading, the market town, which is ten miles away."
"She lives there, I suppose?"
"Yes. She lives in."
"Who is her employer?"
"Mr. Closeby, the draper. Daniel Closeby and Son is the name of the
firm."
Merrington made another note in his pocket-book. It sounded plausible
enough, but the girl must be added to the lengthening list of people in
the case who would have to be seen.
"I think that is all I need detain you for, Mrs. Rath," he said.
The housekeeper lingered to inquire when the gentlemen would like their
lunch. Merrington, who had breakfasted early and passed an arduous
morning, replied bluntly that it could not be too soon to please him.
"I'll have it served in the small breakfast-room in a quarter of an
hour," said Mrs. Rath, hurrying away.
Her whole bearing, as she departed, indicated such an air of
irrepressible relief at having passed through a trying ordeal that all
Merrington's former doubts of her revived.
"I'd give something to remember where I've seen that infernal woman
before," he ejaculated, slapping his thigh emphatically.
"What infernal woman?" asked Captain Stanhill, who had come to the
conclusion that he did not like Superintendent Merrington or his style
of conversation.
"Why, that woman who has just left the room--that housekeeper. I've seen
her before somewhere, in very different circumstances, but I cannot
recall where. I recollect her face distinctly--particularly her eyes. I
flatter myself I never forget a pair of eyes. Confound it, where the
devil have I seen her?"
Captain Stanhill turned away indifferently, and the conversation was
terminated by the appearance of Detective Caldew, who appeared in the
doorway as Mrs. Rath left the room.
"Dr. Holmes is waiting in the drawing-room if you wish to see him," he
announced.
"Bring him here," commanded Merrington curtly. He had a great notion of
his self-importance, and had no intention of dancing attendance on a
mere country practitioner.
Caldew went away, and shortly reappeared with a little man whom he
introduced as Dr. Holmes. The doctor was a meagre shrimp of humanity,
with a peevish expression on his withered little face, as though he were
bored with his own nonentity. He was dressed in faded clothes and
carried a small black bag in one hand and a worn hat in the other. If he
had any idea of airing a professional protest at being compelled to wait
upon the police, the thought vanished as his eye took in the stupendous
stature of Superintendent Merrington, who towered above him like a
mastiff standing over a toy terrier.
"Sit down, doctor," he curtly commanded. "I want to ask you a few
questions about the death of Mrs. Heredith. You examined the body, I
understand?"
Dr. Holmes bowed, put on a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles in order to
see Superintendent Merrington better, and waited to be questioned.
"I understand you were summoned to the moat-house last night, doctor,
after Mrs. Heredith was murdered, and examined the body. What was the
cause of death?"
"The cause of death was a bullet wound," pronounced the doctor
oracularly.
"I am aware of that much," answered Merrington irritably. "But a bullet
wound is not necessarily fatal. Mrs. Heredith lived some time after her
death, so it is certain that the bullet which killed her did not
penetrate the heart. What is the nature of the injuries it inflicted?"
"Death in Mrs. Heredith's case was the result of a bullet passing
through the left lung. It passed between the second and third ribs in
entering the body, traversed the lung, causing a great flow of blood,
which filled the air passages."
"Then the cause of death was haemorrhage?"
"Yes. There was very severe internal haemorrhage. The face and the
left-hand side of the neck were covered with blood. There had also been
bleeding from the mouth and nose. Mr. Musard, who accompanied me to the
room, told me he had washed it away while Mrs. Heredith was dying, in an
endeavour to staunch the flow."
"She was quite dead when you saw her?"
"Oh, yes. Judging by the warmth of the body, and by the fact that blood
had ceased to flow, I should say that death had taken place about forty
minutes before."
"What time did you reach the moat-house?"
"It would be about twenty minutes past eight. Sergeant Lumbe called at
my house at ten minutes past the hour--I made a note of the time--and I
went immediately. It is about ten minutes' walk to the moat-house from
the village."
"Was the main blood vessel of the lung broken?" asked Captain Stanhill,
who had been following the doctor's remarks with close attention.
"The aorta? It is difficult to say from an external examination. Mr.
Musard tells me that Mrs. Heredith died about five minutes after he
reached the room. The aorta is a very large vessel, and if it were burst
bleeding to death would be very rapid."
"Could the wound have been self-inflicted?" asked Merrington.
Dr. Holmes pursed his lips.
"I can form no definite opinion on that point," he said. "By the
direction of the bullet, I should say not."
"Have you found the bullet?"
"No, it is in the body. As apparently it took a course towards the right
after entering the body, and there is no corresponding wound in the
back, I should say that it is lodged somewhere in the vertical column.
Of course, I cannot be sure."
"The Government pathologist will clear up these points when he makes the
post-mortem examination," said Merrington. "I do not think we have any
more questions to ask you, doctor."
"How is your patient, the young husband?" asked Captain Stanhill, as Dr.
Holmes rose.
"The symptoms point to brain fever. The family, on my advice, have sent
to London for Sir Ralph Horton, the eminent brain doctor."
"I do not wonder his mind has given way under the shock," remarked