let’s hear your story.”
Sproot cleared his throat and stared out of the window.
“There’s very little to tell, sir. I was in the butler’s pantry, polishing the glassware, when I heard the shot——”
“Go back a little further,” interrupted Markham. “I understand you made a trip to Third Avenue at nine this morning.”
“Yes, sir. Miss Sibella bought a Pomeranian yesterday, and she asked me to get some dog-biscuits after breakfast.”
“Who called at the house this morning?”
“No one, sir—that is, no one but Doctor Von Blon.”
“All right. Now tell us everything that happened.”
“Nothing happened, sir—nothing unusual, that is—until poor Mr. Rex was shot. Miss Ada went out a few minutes after Doctor Von Blon arrived; and a little past eleven o’clock you telephoned to Mr. Rex. Then shortly afterward you telephoned a second time to Mr. Rex; and I returned to the pantry. I had only been there a few minutes when I heard the shot——”
“What time would you say that was?”
“About twenty minutes after eleven, sir.”
“Then what?”
“I dried my hands on my apron and stepped into the dining-room to listen. I was not quite sure that the shot had been fired inside the house, but I thought I’d better investigate. So I went up-stairs and, as Mr. Rex’s door was open, I looked in his room first. There I saw the poor young man lying on the floor with the blood running from a small wound in his forehead. I called Doctor Von Blon——”
“Where was the doctor?” Vance put the question.
Sproot hesitated, and appeared to think.
“He was up-stairs, sir; and he came at once——”
“Oh—up-stairs! Roaming about vaguely, I presume—a little here, a little there, what?” Vance’s eyes bored into the butler. “Come, come, Sproot. Where was the doctor?”
“I think, sir, he was in Miss Sibella’s room.”
“Cogito, cogito. . . . Well, drum your encephalon a bit and try to reach a conclusion. From what sector of space did the corporeal body of Doctor Von Blon emerge after you had called him?”
“The fact is, sir, he came out of Miss Sibella’s door.”
“Well, well. Fancy that! And, such being the case, one might conclude—without too great a curfuffling of one’s brains—that, preceding his issuing from that particular door, he was actually in Miss Sibella’s room?”
“I suppose so, sir.”
“Dash it all, Sproot! You know deuced well he was there.”
“Well—yes, sir.”
“And now suppose you continue with your odyssey.”
“It was more like the Iliad, if I may say so. More tragic-like, if you understand what I mean; although Mr. Rex was not exactly a Hector. However that may be, sir, Doctor Von Blon came immediately——”
“He had not heard the shot, then?”
“Apparently not, for he seemed very much startled when he saw Mr. Rex. And Miss Sibella, who followed him into Mr. Rex’s room, was startled, too.”
“Did they make any comment?”
“As to that I couldn’t say. I came down-stairs at once and telephoned to Mr. Markham.”
As he spoke Ada appeared at the archway, her eyes wide.
“Some one’s been in my room,” she announced, in a frightened voice. “The French doors to the balcony were partly open when I went up-stairs just now, and there were dirty snow-tracks across the floor. . . . Oh, what does it mean? Do you think——?”
Markham had jerked himself forward.
“You left the French doors shut when you went out?”
“Yes—of course,” she answered. “I rarely open them in winter.”
“And were they locked?”
“I’m not sure, but I think so. They must have been locked—though how could any one have got in unless I’d forgotten to turn the key?”
Heath had risen and stood listening to the girl’s story with grim bewilderment.
“Probably the bird with those galoshes again,” he mumbled. “I’ll get Jerym himself up here this time.”
Markham nodded and turned back to Ada.
“Thank you for telling us, Miss Greene. Suppose you go to some other room and wait for us. We want your room left just as you found it until we’ve had time to examine it.”
“I’ll go to the kitchen and stay with cook. I—I don’t want to be alone.” And with a catch of her breath she left us.
“Where’s Doctor Von Blon now?” Markham asked Sproot.
“With Mrs. Greene, sir.”
“Tell him we’re here and would like to see him at once.”
The butler bowed and went out.
Vance was pacing up and down, his eyes almost closed.
“It grows madder every minute,” he said. “It was insane enough without those foot-tracks and that open door. There’s something devilish going on here, Markham. There’s demonology and witchcraft afoot, or something strangely close to it. I say, is there anything in the Pandects or the Justinian Code relating to the proper legal procedure against diabolic possession or spiritism?”
Before Markham could rebuke him Von Blon entered. His usual suavity had disappeared. He bowed jerkily without speaking, and smoothed his moustache nervously with an unsteady hand.
“Sproot tells me, doctor,” said Markham, “that you did not hear the shot fired in Rex’s room.”
“No!” The fact seemed both to puzzle and disturb him. “I can’t make it out either, for Rex’s door into the hall was open.”
“You were in Miss Sibella’s room, were you not?” Vance had halted, and stood studying the doctor.
Von Blon lifted his eyebrows.
“I was. Sibella had been complaining about——”
“A sore throat or something of the kind, no doubt,” finished Vance. “But that’s immaterial. The fact is that neither you nor Miss Sibella heard the shot. Is that correct?”
The doctor inclined his head. “I knew nothing of it till Sproot knocked on the door and beckoned me across the hall.”
“And Miss Sibella accompanied you into Rex’s room?”
“She came in just behind me, I believe. But I told her not to touch anything, and sent her immediately back to her room. When I came out into the hall again I heard Sproot phoning the District Attorney’s office, and thought I’d better wait till the police arrived. After talking over the situation with Sibella I informed Mrs. Greene of the tragedy, and remained with her until Sproot told me of your arrival.”
“You saw no one else up-stairs, or heard no suspicious noise?”
“No one—nothing. The house, in fact, was unusually quiet.”
“Do you recall if Miss Ada’s door was open?”
The doctor pondered a moment. “I don’t recall—which means it was probably closed. Otherwise I would have noticed it.”
“And how is Mrs. Greene this morning?” Vance’s question, put negligently, sounded curiously