audience.
Anne came first, walking with Condron Archer. Her beautiful face was white, but her eyes were not cast down; instead, she looked straight ahead of her, but with an unseeing gaze, as if walking in sleep. Archer led her to a chair and sat down beside her. They were followed immediately by Barbara and Morland, who were whispering together as they came in. This brother and sister were often at variance in their opinions and apparently the present occasion offered them opportunity for differing views.
Mrs. Stelton and Miss Fordyce followed them, both looking very much disturbed and embarrassed.
I, myself, came in with Markham, the detective, and behind us were Mrs. Carstairs and her son. The other servants were congregated in a nearby room, but Mrs. Carstairs had insisted on having her son by her side and it had been allowed.
Coroner Mellen was short and sharp in his speech, and wasted little time in preliminaries. His jury was sworn, and his first witness on the stand, almost before I realized that the inquest had begun.
The valet, Carstairs, was the first one questioned. He answered the coroner in a nervous and agitated manner, and it was clear to be seen that he was exceedingly ill at ease. To me, however, this was only a natural result of finding himself implicated in such a tragedy.
“Tell the story in your own way,” said Coroner Mellen, speaking a little more kindly, as he observed the man’s demeanor.
“I went to the master’s room this morning, sir, as I always do, and he wasn’t there, and his bed hadn’t been slept in. So as I couldn’t think of any place he might be, except in his study, I went there, sir, and it was locked, and I couldn’t get in. I knocked several times, but nobody answered; so I went and told Jeannette, and she told Mrs. Van Wyck.”
“Who is Jeannette?” asked Mr. Mellen.
“She’s Mrs. Van Wyck’s maid, sir. And then the gentlemen came from the dining-room, and they ordered the door broken in, sir. We called Ranney for that.”
“Never mind about that now; tell us of last evening. When did you see Mr. Van Wyck last?”
“When he was dressing for dinner, sir. And he told me then that I needn’t attend him when he retired. He said he expected some visitors in the evening, and as he should be up late I needn’t wait up for him.”
“And didn’t you?”
“N-no, sir.”
“Why did you hesitate at that reply?”
“I—I didn’t, sir.”
“You did. What time did you go to bed yourself last night?”
“At—at about midnight, sir.”
“And where were you all the evening?”
“I was down in the village. I went to a ball there.”
“And returned home about midnight?”
“Why—yes, sir.”
The valet did seem disingenuous, and I felt sure that the coroner doubted his truthfulness. But to my mind the man was merely confused by the questions shot at him.
During the examination Mrs. Carstairs sat looking at her son. Her hands were clasped in the intensity of her attention, and I could see that she was controlling her agitation by sheer force of will. I had no reason to think the valet had killed his master, but I couldn’t help surmising that either he or his mother, or both, knew something of the mystery that the others did not. I saw the coroner was about to dismiss the witness, and I scribbled a hasty line and passed it to Mr. Mellen, advising him to ask the valet further questions about the evening before.
The coroner seemed a little at sea in the matter, but he followed my advice.”
“Did you see any of the members of the household on your return last night?”
“N-no—sir.”
Either the man was actually scared out of his wits, or he was concealing something; for a more stammering, frightened witness I never saw.
“Are you sure of this?”
An affirmative nod was the only answer, and the valet’s fingers laced and interlaced until I feared he would injure them.
“The servants,—did you see any of them?”
“Why—yes, sir,” and Carstairs’s eyes rolled wildly, as though he had made a terrifying admission.
“Which ones?”
“Only Jeannette, sir.”
“Where did you see her?”
“In the servants’ dining-room, sir.”
“What was she doing there, at midnight?”
“She was just about to go to attend on Mrs. Van Wyck, sir.”
I saw Jeannette’s white face peeping in from the next room, and she looked about as terrified as the valet himself. In an undertone, I drew Mr. Markham’s attention to this fact, but he seemed to think it unimportant, and said that servants were always rattled at being made publicly conspicuous.
I didn’t entirely agree with him, and I felt fully convinced that Carstairs and Jeannette had knowledge of some sort bearing on the tragedy. I glanced at Anne, and found that she, like Mrs. Carstairs, was simply holding herself together by strong will power.
The others were not so deeply affected. The Van Wyck brother and sister were quiet and composed, though Morland had that same effect of being ready to break out indignantly at any moment. Mrs. Stelton was frankly interested in the proceedings, and showed it in her eager countenance; but Miss Fordyce sat with closed eyes, as if overcome by the whole affair. Archer looked grave, but as he continually glanced toward Anne, I was certain that he felt even more solicitude for her well-being than for the developments of the case.
Apparently the coroner thought the valet’s evidence not of crucial importance, for he concluded by saying:
“Did you see any of the members of the household on your return?”
“None but the servants, sir.”
“You didn’t see Mr. Van Wyck in his room or in his study?”
“No, sir; I did not.”
This answer, at least, was given without hesitation, and, apparently satisfied, the coroner dismissed the witness.
Ranney, the garage mechanician, was next called. His testimony was straightforward, and he was entirely unembarrassed, and indeed seemed almost uninterested.
“Mr. Morland called me,” he said, “and ordered me to pick the lock of the study door. Of course, with my knowledge of mechanics, I could do this; and as it was then bolted, he ordered me to saw out the piece of wood containing the bolt. This I did, and we opened the door.”
“You live in the house?” asked Mr. Mellen.
“No, sir; I live in a cottage near the stables and garage.”
“What time did you retire last night?”
“Early, sir; between nine and ten o’clock.”
“Were you awake at or about midnight?”
Before replying, Ranney gave a long steady glance at Carstairs. The valet returned it with a belligerent stare that seemed to convey a threat. I was surprised at the directness of this glance, after Carstairs’s exhibition of nervousness. Apparently it was entirely intelligible to Ranney, for he set his jaw with grim determination, and proceeded to answer the coroner.
“I was wakeful off and on, all night, sir. I can’t say as I was awake at twelve o’clock, and I can’t say as I wasn’t. I’m a light sleeper, sir.”
“Then you would have heard if anything unusual was taking place?”
“Do you mean