The problem of Cell 13
The Green Dragon with its three passengers ran slowly down from the
Hotel Yarmouth, where Miss Melrose was stopping, toward the Common,
twisting and winding tortuously through the crowd of vehicles. It was
half-past six o'clock in the evening.
"Cut across here to Commonwealth Avenue," Miss Melrose suggested. She
remembered something and her bright blue eyes sparkled beneath the
disfiguring mask. "I know a delightful old-fashioned inn out this way.
It would be an ideal place to stop for supper. I was there once five
years ago when I was in Boston."
"How far?" asked Reid.
"Fifteen or twenty miles," was the reply.
"Right," said Curtis. "Here we go."
Soon after they were skimming along Commonwealth Avenue, which at that
time of day is practically given over to automobilists, past the
Vendome, the Somerset and on over the flat, smooth road. It was
perfectly light now, because the electric lights were about them; but
there was no moon above, and once in the country it would be dark
going.
Curtis was intent on his machine; Reid was thoughtful for a time, but
after awhile leaned over and talked to Miss Melrose.
"I heard something to-day that might interest you," he remarked.
"What is it?" she asked.
"Don MacLean is in Boston."
"I heard that," she replied, casually.
"Who is he?" asked Curtis.
"A man who is frantically in love with Marguerite," said Reid, with a
smile.
"Charlie!" the girl reproved, and a flush crept into her face. "It was
never anything very serious."
Curtis looked at her curiously for a moment, then his eyes turned
again to the road ahead.
"I don't suppose it's very serious if a man proposes to a girl seven
times, is it?" Reid asked, banteringly.
"Did he do that?" asked Curtis, quickly.
"He merely made a fool of himself and me," replied the actress, with
spirit, speaking to Curtis. "He was--in love with me, I suppose, but
his family objected because I was on the stage and threatened to
disinherit him, and all that sort of thing. So--it ended it. Not that
I ever considered the matter seriously anyway," she added.
There was silence again as The Green Dragon plunged into the darkness
of the country, the two brilliant lights ahead showing every dip and
rise in the road. After awhile Curtis spoke again.
"He's now in Boston?"
"Yes," said the girl. "At least, I've heard so," she added, quickly.
Then the conversation ran into other channels, and Curtis, busy with
the great machine and the innumerable levers which made it do this or
do that or do the other, dropped out of it. Reid and Miss Melrose
talked on, but the whirr of the car as it gained speed made talking
unsatisfactory and finally the girl gave herself up to the pure
delight of high speed; a dangerous pleasure which sets the nerves
atingle and makes one greedy for more.
"Do you smell gasoline?" Curtis asked suddenly, turning to the others.
"Believe I do," said Reid.
"Confound it! If I've sprung a leak in my tank it will be the deuce,"
Curtis growled amiably.
"Do you think you've got enough to get to the inn?" asked Miss
Melrose. "It can't be more than five or six miles now."
"I'll run on until we stop," said Curtis. "We might be able to stir up
some along here somewhere. I suppose they are prepared for autos."
At last lights showed ahead, many lights glimmering through the trees.
"I suppose that's the inn now," said Curtis. "Is it?" he asked of the
girl.
"Really, I don't know, but I have an impression that it isn't. The one
I mean seems farther out than this and it seems to me we passed one on
the way. However, I don't remember very well."
"We'll stop and get some gasoline, anyhow," said Curtis.
Puffing and snorting odorously The Green Dragon came to a standstill
in front of an old house which stood back twenty feet or more from the
road. It was lighted up, and from inside they could hear the cheery
rattle of dishes and see white-aproned waiters moving about. Above the
door was a sign, "Monarch Inn."
"Is this the place?" asked Reid.
"Oh, no," replied Miss Melrose. "The inn I spoke of was back from the
road three or four hundred feet through a grove."
Curtis leaped out, and evidently dropped something from his pocket as
he did so, for he stopped and felt around for a moment. Then he
examined his tank.
"It's a leak," he said, in irritation. "I haven't more than half a
gallon left. These people must have some gasoline. Wait a few
minutes."
Miss Melrose and Reid still sat in the car as he started away toward
the house. Almost at the veranda he turned and called back:
"Charlie, I dropped something there when I jumped out. Get down and
strike a match and see if you can find it. Don't go near that gasoline
tank with the match."
He disappeared inside the house. Reid climbed out and struck several
matches. Finally he found what was lost and thrust it into an outside
pocket. Miss Melrose was gazing away down the road at two brilliant
lights coming toward them rapidly.
"Rather chilly," Reid said, as he straightened up. "Want a cup of
coffee or something?"
"Thanks, no," the girl replied.
"I think I'll run in and scare up some sort of a hot drink, if you'll
excuse me?"
"Now, Charlie, don't," the girl asked, suddenly. "I don't like it."
"Oh, one won't hurt," he replied, lightly.
"I shan't speak to you when you come out," she insisted, half
banteringly.
"Oh, yes, you will." He laughed, and passed into the house.
Miss Melrose tossed her pretty head impatiently and turned to watch
the approaching lights. They were blinding as they drew nearer,
clearly revealing her figure, in its tan auto coat, to the occupant of
the other car. The newcomer stopped and then she heard whoever was in
it--she couldn't see--speaking to her.
"Would you mind turning your car a little so I can run in off the
road?"
"I don't know how," she replied, helplessly.
There was a little pause. The occupant of the other car was leaning
forward, looking at her closely.
"Is that you, Marguerite?" he asked finally.
"Yes," she replied. "Who is that? Don?"
"Yes."
A man's figure leaped out of the other machine and came toward her.
* * * * * *
Curtis appeared beside The Green Dragon with a huge can of gasoline
twenty minutes later. The two occupants of the car were clearly
silhouetted against the sky, and Reid, leaning back in the tonneau,
was smoking.
"Find it?" he asked.
"Yes," growled Curtis. And he began the work of repairing the leak and
refilling his tank. It took only five minutes or so, and then he
climbed up into the car.
"Cold, Marguerite?" he asked.
"She won't speak," said Reid, leaning forward a little. "She's angry
because I went inside to get a hot Scotch."
"Wish I had one myself," said Curtis.
"Let's wait till we get to the next place," Reid interposed. "A little
supper and trimmings will put all of us in a better humor."
Without answering, Curtis threw a lever, and the car pulled out. Two
automobiles which had been standing when they arrived were still
waiting for their owners. Annoyed at the delay, Curtis put on full
speed. Finally Reid leaned forward and spoke to the girl.
"In a good humor?" he asked.
She gave no sign of having heard, and Reid placed his hand on her
shoulder as he repeated the question. Still there was no answer.
"Make her talk to you, Jack," he suggested to Curtis.
"What's the matter, Marguerite?" asked Curtis, as he glanced around.
Still there was no answer, and he slowed up the car a little. Then he
took her arm and shook it gently. There was no response.
"What _is_ the matter with her?" he demanded. "Has she fainted?"
Again he shook her, this time more vigorously than before.
"Marguerite," he called.
Then his hand sought her face; it was deathly cold, clammy even about
the chin. The upper part was still covered by the mask. For the third
time he shook her, then, really frightened, apparently, he caught at
her gloved wrist and brought the car to a standstill. There was no
trace of a pulse; the wrist was cold as death.
"She must be ill--very ill," he said in some agitation. "Is there a
doctor near here?"
Reid was leaning over the senseless body now, having raised up in the
tonneau, and when he spoke there seemed to be fear in his tone.
"Better run on as fast as you can to the inn ahead," he instructed
Curtis. "It's nearer than the one we just left. There may be a doctor
there."
Curtis grabbed frantically at the lever and the car shot ahead
suddenly through the dark. In three minutes the lights of the second
inn were in sight. The two men leaped from the car simultaneously and
raced for the house.
"A doctor, quick," Curtis breathlessly demanded of a waiter.
"Next door."
Without waiting for further instructions, Curtis and Reid ran to the
auto, lifted the girl in their arms and took her to a house which
stood just a few feet away. There, after much clamoring, they aroused
some one. Was the doctor in? Yes. Would he hurry? Yes.
The door opened and the men laid the girl's body on a couch in the
hall. Dr. Leonard appeared. He was an old fellow, grizzled, with keen,
kindly eyes and rigid mouth.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Think she's dead," replied Curtis.
The doctor adjusted his glasses rather hurriedly.
"Who is she?" he asked, as he bent over the still figure and fumbled
about the throat and breast.
"Miss Marguerite Melrose, an actress," explained Curtis, hurriedly.
"What's the matter with her?" demanded Reid, fiercely.
The doctor still bent over the figure. In the dim lamplight Curtis and
Reid stood waiting anxiously, impatiently, with white faces. At last
the doctor straightened up.
"What is it?" demanded Curtis.
"She's dead," was the reply.
"Great God!" exclaimed Reid. "How?" Curtis seemed speechless.
"This," said the doctor, and he exhibited a long knife, damp with
blood. "Stabbed through the heart."
Curtis stared at him, at the knife, then at the inert figure, and
lastly at the dead white of her face where it showed beneath the mask.
"Look, Jack!" exclaimed Reid, suddenly. "The knife!"
Curtis looked again, then sank down on the couch beside the body.
"Oh, my God! It's horrible!" he said.
II.
To Hutchinson Hatch and half a dozen other reporters, Dr. Leonard, at
his home late that night, told the story of the arrival of Jack Curtis
and Charles Reid with the body of the girl, and the succeeding events
so far as he knew them. The police and Medical Examiner Francis had
preceded the newspaper men, and the body had been removed to a nearby
village.
"They came here in great excitement," Dr. Leonard explained. "They
brought the body in with them, the man Curtis lifting her by the
shoulders and the man Reid at the feet. They placed the body on this
couch. I asked them who she was, and they told me she was Marguerite
Melrose, an actress. That's all that was said of her identity.
"Then I made an examination of the body, seeking a trace of life.
There was none, although the body was not then entirely cold. In
examining her heart my hand struck the knife which had killed her--a
heavy weapon, evidently used for rough work, with a blade of six or
seven inches. I drew the knife out. Of course, knowing that it had
pierced her heart, any idea of doing anything to save her was beyond
question.
"One of the men, Curtis, seemed greatly excited about this knife after
Reid called his attention to it. Curtis took the knife out of my hand
and examined it closely, then asked if he might keep it. I told him it
would have to be turned over to the medical examiner. He argued about
it, and finally, to settle the argument, I took it out of his hand.
Reid explained to Curtis that it was necessary for me to keep the