I would feel convinced that he was really a good son, and that it was beyond belief that he should have raised his hand against his own father. And then I realized his ungovernable temper, and his uncontrollable fits of passion, and knowing that last night had been indeed the climax of the whole subject, I wondered if a sudden spasm of passion could have made Morland so beside himself with rage, that he was almost irresponsible, and had in a frenzy committed the awful deed. And then rose in my mind the old question; even supposing he had, how did he get out of the locked room? It seemed to me that the theory of murder was impossible, unless we could discover some means of exit from that sealed study.
Mr. Mellen looked very much perturbed. He seemed unwilling to accuse Morland, and he had no evidence whatever against him. There was a breathless silence in the room, and I could not blind myself to the fact that there was a hostile atmosphere toward young Van Wyck. It was quite evident, too, that he noticed this himself, and assumed a defiant air in consequence. His whole nature was touchy, and it was characteristic of him to show bravado when an accusation was even implied.
Coroner Mellen looked at him intently and seemed uncertain what to do next.
But he must proceed, and so, with a baffled air, he dismissed Morland and called Barbara Van Wyck.
The girl took the stand with no apparent trepidation, and calmly awaited questioning.
“What can you tell us of this affair?” asked the coroner briefly.
“I can tell you no facts that you do not already know,” returned Barbara, in even tones and with perfect poise of manner. “But I wish to advance a theory totally different from my brother’s. To repeat the phrase already used, my father’s study was ‘hermetically sealed.’ It was impossible for an intruder to get in and out again, leaving the room as we found it this morning. I myself examined the windows and doors, and I assure you that not only are the locks and bolts especially strong, but they are so complicated as to make it impossible to manipulate them from the outside. I hold, therefore, that my father was not murdered, but that he took his own life.”
“And the robberies?” suggested the coroner.
“There were no robberies. The pearls have disappeared, but I am positive that my father hid them, and that they will yet be discovered. The deed of gift he doubtless destroyed himself, and then took his own life. My father was a very eccentric man, and it is my opinion that at the last his brain gave way, and for what he did he was not mentally or morally responsible.”
There was something in the girl’s words and manner that carried conviction. Her quiet, dignified composure was so different from Morland’s belligerent insistence that the sympathy of all present seemed to go out to her. All over the room heads were nodding approval of her theory, and it seemed quite in keeping with the erratic career of David Van Wyck.
“But, Miss Van Wyck,” said the coroner, and he seemed to speak with a certain diffidence, “if your theory is right, what became of the weapon used by your father?”
“I do not know, nor do I know what that weapon could have been. But I hold that that may yet be discovered, and I hold too that the absence of that weapon is not so inexplicable a mystery as is the question of how a burglar could escape from that room.”
This was true so far as it went. We were confronted by two seeming impossibilities: if a suicide, the weapon could not have disappeared; if a murder, the murderer could not have made his exit from that sealed room. As theories, one might take one’s choice!
“You think, then,” Mr. Mellen was saying, “the missing pearls will yet be found?”
“I do not know,” replied Barbara. “I think that my father hid them with the unnatural cunning of a diseased mind. For I am perfectly certain that my father was not sane when he took his own life. And if the same ingenuity which marked the manner of his death prompted his hiding of the pearls, it may well be possible that we shall never find them.”
I looked at Miss Van Wyck in amazement. The girl I had thought so colorless and inane was proving possessed of an unsuspected strength of character. Her simple, logical statements carried great weight, and, though she left unsolved a principal point, many of her listeners showed a decided willingness to subscribe to her theories.
Chapter XI.
Archer’s Theory
For some reason best known to himself, the coroner next called upon the three men who formed the village committee. These were Mr. Millar, Mr. Brandt and Mr. Garson. As he had been chairman of the committee, Mr. Brandt was chosen to speak for the three.
The witness was a middle-aged and dignified-looking man of a fine presence. He told in a straightforward manner of the proposed gift from Mr. Van Wyck to the village. He said further that the committee thought the project was extravagant, and they felt much hesitation on accepting the library. But, he said, the more they demurred, the more insistent Mr. Van Wyck became. And he finally persuaded them that they had no right to refuse so valuable an institution for their village, and so, he concluded, they had decided to accept it and had come the night before to attend to the formalities.
It was clearly impossible to connect these gentlemen in any way with the crime, but I surmised that Mr. Mellen hoped to get some important evidence from them. He questioned Mr. Brandt closely as to the attitude and behavior of Morland Van Wyck during the evening, and also inquired concerning the secretary.
But Mr. Brandt said nothing enlightening. He admitted that the Van Wycks, father and son, had discussed the project hotly, he even admitted that the discussion could properly be called a quarrel. Of the secretary he had nothing to say, as he had merely performed clerical duties and took no part in the actual business of the meeting.
The necessary papers, constituting the Deed of Gift had been drawn but not signed. For technical reasons they had been left over night in the possession of Mr. Van Wyck, who had said he would put them in his safe.
Mr. Brandt further testified that the three committeemen had left at about quarter after eleven, and that Mr. Van Wyck had bidden them a hearty and pleasant good-night. Mr. Brandt spoke for his committee in expressing regret that the Deed of Gift was missing. And indeed it was quite evident that that regret occupied the minds of the three men almost to the entire exclusion of the more tragic happening.
This shocked me, until I remembered that they were only slightly acquainted with David Van Wyck, and even that acquaintance was not of a friendly character. Perhaps, then, it was not to be wondered at that they felt more keenly the loss of the projected gift than the loss of its giver.
I was secretly glad that the Deed of Gift was lost, although being unsigned it was probably valueless. But since David Van Wyck was dead, I felt a decided satisfaction that his fortune must necessarily remain in his own family instead of being given away.
Next to give evidence were the guests of the house. Mrs. Stelton seemed almost to enjoy the importance of being questioned as a witness, and answered volubly and with an evident intention of making a good impression on the audience. She spoke to them rather than to the coroner, and showed a certain personal interest that was clearly meant to imply that she was or would some time be a permanent member of the Van Wyck household. And yet, though she cast frequent glances at Morland, they were not always responded to, nor did he seem absorbedly interested in what she was saying. Then, too, her testimony was of no importance whatever. She could tell nothing that was not already known, and her opinions were absolutely valueless.
She was soon dismissed, and Beth Fordyce took her place.
As she rose from her seat and went slowly forward to the chair indicated for her, she looked so listless and distracted that I wondered if she would be able to repeat the story she had told me.
I think Mr. Mellen gathered from her appearance that her evidence would not be of much importance, for after a few preliminary details, he said in a most uninterested way, “Can you tell