Carolyn Wells

The Greatest Murder Mysteries of Carolyn Wells


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When I went to the telephone I heard Miss Morton's voice, and she asked me to come over here. I came as quickly as possible, and—"

      Tom's voice broke at this point, and, feeling that his story was finished, Mr. Benson considerately asked him no further questions.

      Chapter XI.

       “I Decline to Say”

       Table of Contents

      Schuyler Carleton was questioned next, When Mr. Benson asked him to tell his story, he hesitated and finally said that he would prefer to have the coroner ask direct questions, which he would answer.

      "Did you go away from this house with the other guests at about ten o'clock last evening?"

      "No, I was not here at dinner. I left at about half-past five in the afternoon."

      "Where did you go?"

      "I went directly home and remained there until late in the evening."

      "Mr. Fessenden was with you?"

      "He was with us at dinner. He is staying at my house, as he was invited to be best man at the wedding."

      Though this statement came calmly from Carleton's lips, it was evident to all that he fully appreciated the tragic picture it suggested.

      "He was with you through the evening?"

      "Part of the time. He went early to his room, saying he had some business to attend to."

      "Why were you two not here to dinner with Miss Van Norman?"

      Fessenden looked up, surprised at this question. Surely Mr. Benson had gathered odd bits of information since morning.

      Schuyler Carleton looked stern.

      "I did not come because I did not wish to. Mr. Fessenden remained with me, saying he did not care to attend the dinner unless I did."

      Carleton looked casually at Fessenden as he said this, and though there was no question in the glance, Rob nodded his head in corroboration of the witness.

      "You spent the entire evening at home, then?"

      "Yes, until a late hour."

      "And then?"

      "I returned here between eleven and twelve o'clock."

      "To make a call?"

      "No, I came upon an errand."

      "What was the errand?"

      "As it has no bearing upon the case, I think it is my privilege to decline to answer."

      "You entered the house with a latch-key."

      "I did."

      "Is that latch-key your own property?"

      "For the time, yes. Mrs. Markham gave it to me a few days ago, for my convenience, because I have occasion to come to the house so frequently."

      "Was it your intention when you went away in the afternoon to return later?"

      "It was."

      "Upon this secret errand?"

      "Yes."

      "Did you expect to see Miss Van Norman when you entered the house with the latch-key?"

      "I did not."

      "And when you entered you discovered the tragedy in the library?"

      Schuyler Carleton hesitated. His dry lips quivered and his whole frame shook with intense emotion. "Y-yes," he stammered.

      But the mere fact of that hesitation instantly kindled a spark of suspicion in the minds of some of his hearers. Until that moment Carleton's excessive agitation had been attributed entirely to his grief at the awful fate which had come to his fiancée; but now, all at once, the man's demeanor gave an impression of something else.

      Could it be guilt?

      Fessenden looked at his friend curiously. In his mind, however, no slightest suspicion was aroused, but he wondered what it was that Carleton was keeping back. Surely the man must know that to make any mystery about his call at the Van Norman mansion the night before, was to invite immediate and justifiable suspicion.

      The court had instructed the district attorney to be present at the inquest, and though that unobtrusive gentleman had taken notes, and otherwise shown a quiet interest in the proceedings, he now awakened to a more alert manner, and leaned forward to get a better look at the white, set face of the witness.

      Carleton looked like a marble image. His refined, patrician features seemed even handsomer for their haggard agony. Surely he was in no way responsible for the awful deed that had been done, and yet just as surely he was possessed of some awful secret fear which kept every nerve strained and tense.

      Endeavoring not to exhibit the surprise and dismay which he felt, Coroner Benson continued his questions.

      "And then, when you discovered Miss Van Norman, what did you do?"

      Carleton passed his hand across his white brow. "I hardly know," he said. "I was stunned—dazed. I went toward her, and, seeing the dagger on the floor, I picked it up mechanically, scarcely knowing what I did. I felt intuitively that the girl was dead, but I did not touch her, and, not knowing what else to do, I cried out for help."

      "And turned on the lights?"

      "I pushed several electric buttons, not knowing which were lights and which bells; my principal idea was to arouse the inmates of the house at once."

      "Who first appeared in answer to your call?"

      "Miss Dupuy came running downstairs at once, followed by Miss Van Norman's maid."

      "And then you pointed to the paper that lay on the table near Miss Van Norman's hand."

      "Yes; I could not speak, and I thought that would tell Miss Dupuy that Miss Van Norman had taken her own life."

      "You thought, then, that Miss Van Norman wrote the message?"

      "I thought so then—and I think so now."

      This, of course, produced a sensation, but it was only evidenced by a deeper silence on the part of the startled audience.

      "But Miss Dupuy asserts that she wrote it," said the coroner.

      To this Schuyler Carleton merely gave a slight bow of his handsome head, but it said as plainly as words that his belief was not altered by Miss Dupuy's assertion.

      "Granting for the moment, then," went on Mr. Benson, "that Miss Van Norman did write it, is the message intelligible to you?"

      "Intelligible, yes;" said Carleton, "but, as I have said before, inexplicable."

      This ambiguous speech meant little to most of the listeners, but it seemed to give Robert Fessenden food for thought, and he looked at Carleton with a new wonder in his eyes.

      "Mr. Carleton," said the coroner, with a note of gravity in his voice, "I think it my duty to tell you that your own interests require you to state the nature of your errand to this house last night."

      "I decline to do so."

      "Then, will you state as exactly as you can the hour at which you entered the front door?"

      "I don't know precisely. But Miss Dupuy has testified that she came downstairs in response to my call at half-past eleven. I came into the house a—a few moments before."

      "That is all," said the coroner abruptly. "Mr. Hunt, if you please."

      The man from headquarters, who had guarded the present room through the night, came in from the doorway where he had been standing.

      "Will you tell what you know concerning Mr. Carleton's entrance last night?" said the coroner, briefly.

      "I was on guard in