Again Ranney hesitated, again he looked at Carstairs, this time including Mrs. Carstairs in his glance.
To my surprise, while the valet still had a threatening aspect, his mother smiled slightly at Ranney. It was a strange smile, a little coaxing and of a persuasive charm.
I don’t know whether anyone else noticed this by-play, and the detective paid no attention to it whatever, but it interested me. And I thoroughly believed that it was in response to Mrs. Carstairs’s beseeching glance, that Ranney said, firmly:
“No, sir, nothing did I hear or see all night long.”
I didn’t believe him. To me it was a palpable untruth, but I saw a quiet smile of satisfaction on Mrs. Carstairs’s face, and a victorious gleam in the eyes of her son. What it all meant, I didn’t know, and I began to think perhaps I was making too much of it, when suddenly I remembered Miss Fordyce’s account of the motor car and the man she had seen from her window. Could Ranney or Carstairs know anything about this, and did it bear on the mystery? I glanced at Miss Fordyce, but she still sat with closed eyes, and looked like one in a trance. I doubted if she had even heard Ranney’s evidence, or that of the valet.
But I argued to myself that it would be wiser for me to say nothing, and wait until the testimony of Miss Fordyce should be called for; when she would have to tell about the motor car, and I could then see if either of these servants showed any guilty knowledge.
Next came the evidence of the doctor.
He deposed that he had been the Van Wyck family physician for a great many years. He told of being called that morning to Buttonwood Terrace, and of his seeing the body of David Van Wyck. It was his opinion after examination that Mr. Van Wyck’s death occurred about midnight.
“From what cause?” asked the coroner. “I frankly admit,” said Doctor Mason, “that I am puzzled as to the instrument which caused Mr. Van Wyck’s death. I have made an examination of the body, and I find no bullet or shot. I conclude, therefore, that he was stabbed with some sharp, pointed instrument which has left a small circular hole in the clothing and the flesh.”
“Could it have been a hat-pin?” asked the coroner.
“No, it could not,” declared the doctor, a little shortly. “I don’t know why people are so ready to assume a hat-pin. As a matter of fact, a hat-pin is a most impracticable weapon. It would either bend double or break off if used for such a purpose. Nor was it a dagger—of any usual description. A dagger or a knife would leave a slit-like incision, and the mark in question is absolutely circular. I can only say that the weapon must have been sharp-pointed and round. Further than that, I do not know.”
“Could the wound have been self-inflicted?” asked the coroner.
“So far as its position is concerned, yes; but it is improbable that a man could have sufficient force of nerve to stab himself in that manner, for it meant a sure, strong drive of the weapon. Also, it is improbable that after that thrust the victim could live long enough to draw out the weapon and hide or dispose of it. And I understand it has not been found.”
“No,” returned Mr. Mellen; “it has not yet been found, but it may be eventually discovered. It is your opinion, then, Doctor Mason, that David Van Wyck was not a suicide?”
“That is my opinion,” returned Doctor Mason positively.
Chapter X.
Further Evidence
Next came Barclay Lasseter, the secretary.
“Your name and position?” asked the coroner, curtly.
For some reason the young man showed rather a defiant attitude.
“I am Barclay Lasseter, and my position was that of secretary to David Van Wyck.”
“Confidential secretary?”
“Yes, private and confidential secretary.”
“For how long have you held that position?”
“A little over a year.”
“What are your duties?”
“My duties have been, to do whatever Mr. Van Wyck required of me in the way of attention to his correspondence and business affairs.”
“You live here?”
“No; I board in the village. But frequently, at Mr. Van Wyck’s request, I’ve stayed here over night, or for a few days at a time.”
“When were you last with Mr. Van Wyck?”
“Last evening, when a committee of three gentlemen visited him in his study.”
“For what purpose?”
“It was Mr. Van Wyck’s intention to make a gift of nearly a million dollars for a village library, and three prominent men of the village were a committee to accept this gift and superintend its disposal as directed.”
This evidence caused a decided sensation in the audience. The library plan had been a secret until now, and the village people were astounded at the news. The coroner went on:
“As confidential secretary you must know all about the details of this plan for the library.”
“I only know that it was Mr. Van Wyck’s positive intention to make the gift. Papers were drawn up to that effect last evening, but they were not completed and not signed.”
“And those papers have been stolen?”
“They have disappeared.”
“Meaning that Mr. Van Wyck may have disposed of them himself, before he died?”
“Meaning nothing, but that the papers are missing, and I have no way of ascertaining whether they were stolen or not.”
“And the Van Wyck pearls? They are also missing?”
“They are.”
“They were always kept in the safe?”
“Not always, but usually.”
“When not in the safe, where were they?”
“In the possession of Mrs. Van Wyck.”
“Did she prefer to keep them in her own possession?”
This question seemed to me too personal, and I noticed both Archer and Morland showed frowning faces at the coroner’s words.
But Lasseter answered decidedly: “She certainly did. The possession of the pearls was a constant source of disagreement between them.”
This roused me to extreme indignation, but as I looked at Anne, and saw the calm, even supercilious expression on her face, I concluded I was too sensitive in the matter, and probably it was necessary that these things should come out in the evidence. I knew David Van Wyck’s disposition, and it was not at all astonishing that he and Anne should have quarrelled about the pearls. I knew they were hers in the sense that he had given them to her. But I knew, too, that he claimed the ownership of all and any of her property. However, it was very ungracious of Lasseter to volunteer the information as to marital disagreements.
“When did you last see Mr. Van Wyck alive?” Mr. Mellen next inquired of the witness.
“I was present at his conference with the committee. Those gentlemen stayed until well after eleven. I then remained with Mr. Van Wyck until very nearly twelve, leaving for home, I should say, at about ten minutes before midnight”
“You left Mr. Van Wyck’s study, and went directly to your home?”
“I did,” returned Lasseter, and, though the answer was prompt, there was something about the man’s voice that made me doubt