wonder whether or not he had anything to conceal. But I also realized that the curt, almost aggressive manner of Coroner Mellen was enough to disturb the poise of the most innocent witness.
“You left Mr. Van Wyck alone in his study?”
“Not so. His son, Morland, was with him.”
“I was not!” declared Morland, starting up from his seat not far from me.
Lasseter paid no attention to this interruption, and the coroner said, “Why does Mr. Morland Van Wyck contradict you, Mr. Lasseter?”
“I don’t know,” said the secretary. “I repeat that when I left the study, I left Mr. Van Wyck and his son there, and I said good-night to both as I went out of the door.”
“Did they respond to your good-night?”
“The elder Mr. Van Wyck said, ‘ Good-night, Lasseter,’ in his offhand way, and immediately followed it with a remark to his son.”
“What was the remark?”
“He said, ‘You see, Morland, I have proved that I could carry out my intention, after all.’ ”
“And did Mr. Morland Van Wyck reply to this?”
“That I cannot say, as I was by that time outside the door and had closed it behind me.”
“And you know nothing more of this matter?”
“The next time I saw Mr. Van Wyck was when I arrived here this morning and found him dead.”
“You are positive that when you left last night Mr. Morland Van Wyck was in the study with his father?”
“I am positive.”
There was a breathless silence. It was quite evident from the expressions on the faces of the audience that they had leaped to the conclusion that Morland Van Wyck had killed his father because of the plan for endowing a library. The villagers had become aware of the situation so suddenly, and had been so astonished at the munificence of the gift, that it seemed to them but natural that the Van Wyck family should resent this disposal of a fortune. But the thought of Morland committing a crime because of it appalled them, and looks of horror could be seen on every face. Morland Van Wyck was next called as a witness.
The sight of his livid, angry face seemed to render the coroner incapable of definite questions. “What have you to say for yourself?” he said.
“I have this to say,” thundered Morland: “Barclay Lasseter lies when he says he left me with my father! The truth is, I left the study before Lasseter did. I left him there with my father, and if he states the contrary, he has his own reason for doing so!”
“You are implying—” began the coroner.
“I’m implying nothing!” Morland stormed on. “I am stating that I left my father and his secretary alone in the study. And I am stating nothing but that.” He threw a defiant look at the secretary, who returned it in kind. Coroner Mellen was decidedly nonplussed. He seemed to fear an outbreak of personal hostilities between these two, and he said hastily, “Let us not pursue this further. One of you gentlemen must be mistaken. Mr. Van Wyck, have you any opinion or theory as to the cause of your father’s death?”
I thought this rather clever of the coroner, for it would bring forth either an accusation of the secretary or a tacit implication of freedom from suspicion.
“My opinion is the only one possible to hold. My father was murdered by some evil-minded intruder. Presumably an expert burglar, because valuable jewels and valuable papers have been stolen.”
“But how, in your opinion, could this intruder commit his crimes and get away, leaving the room securely locked and bolted on the inside, with no possible means of ingress or egress?”
“I’m not prepared to say how he did it; the fact remains that he did do it.”
At this point a juryman made a remark. He was a shrewd-faced young fellow, and seemed imbued with a sense of his own importance.
“I wish to say,” he began, “that we should like at least a suggestion as to how the murderer could have escaped from a room which we may call hermetically sealed.”
Morland turned on him with an impatient gesture. “I hate that term ‘hermetically sealed’! It is absurd, to begin with. That my father’s murderer did get out of the room is proved by the fact that the instrument of death cannot be found. Therefore, since the murderer did get out, the room cannot be hermetically sealed, however much it may appear so.”
“Can there be any secret or concealed entrance?” asked the alert juryman.
“No,” replied Morland; “there is nothing of that sort in the house. And the study is really a separate building, only attached at one corner. Moreover, a burglar, however enterprising, could hardly know of a secret entrance of which we did not know ourselves! I tell you, Mr. Coroner, the murderer got away after the clever fashion of a cracksman who knows his business. How he did it, I cannot tell you; but he killed my father, stole the Van Wyck pearls, stole also the deed of gift which had been drawn up for the village library, and then escaped. Escaped, Mr. Coroner, and is therefore still at large! But he must be found, and no effort must be spared to find him!”
I looked at Morland in astonishment. He had assumed a rather pompous attitude and seemed to be giving orders instead of giving evidence.
Coroner Mellen looked greatly disturbed. I felt sure that he was beginning to realize that the case was more than he could cope with. His limited intelligence could not grapple with the mysteries and contradictions that confronted him.
Also, he began to realize that Morland had a high temper, and that if aggravated much further he might create an unpleasant scene.
“We are even now using our best efforts to discover the criminal, Mr. Van Wyck,” Mr. Mellen went on. “And I count upon you for assistance in the matter.”
“How can I assist you?” Morland blazed. “If I knew anything at all about the matter I should volunteer the information, without having it dragged out of me! You must hold your inquest, of course; but it will tell you nothing, for the problem is too deep and too mysterious to be solved easily. We have engaged a detective in whom I have confidence; but the truth cannot be learned by questioning witnesses. However, Mr. Coroner, proceed with your duties and get them over as soon as may be.”
“That is what I am doing,” said Mr. Mellen, with a sudden accession of dignity. “And in order to proceed properly, I must insist upon asking you some further questions, even at the risk of being considered personal. Were you on good terms with your father at the time of his death?”
“What!” thundered Morland. “Of course I was! I have never been on anything but good terms with my father. To be sure we’ve had differences of opinion, and we never hesitated to state plainly our views to each other, but I don’t call that being on bad terms with him. In case of a disagreement we fought it out as man to man. Naturally, I objected to his foolish plan of founding a library of proportions and values altogether too great for a tiny village like Crescent Falls. Naturally I told him so. As he was very determined in the matter, we had high words on various occasions; and last night matters came to a climax.”
“What do you mean by came to a climax?” The coroner fairly pounced on this phrase.
“I mean what I say! The climax of my father’s plan was reached, when he called the committeemen to meet him and accept his absurd gift! I do not blame these gentlemen. They would have been foolish, indeed, to refuse a gift so freely offered to them. I was present myself at the interview, and I used every argument I could think of, to dissuade my father from his project. But I think I may say, and I think the gentlemen of the committee will bear me out in this, that every objection I raised, only made my father more determined to have his own way.”
The three men who had represented the committee were all present, and they nodded their heads in confirmation of Morland’s statement.
I