no time to think about it, for I was just then called to the witness stand myself, and asked to give any information I could, that might be of any assistance in solving the mystery.
I had not had time to consider this new phase of the situation that included the valet’s evidence, but I had previously made up my mind what I should say when called upon.
Chapter XIII.
An Adjournment
“I can tell you nothing in the way of facts that you do not already know,” I said, “but I wish to say that I entirely coincide with Miss Van Wyck’s opinion that her father ended his own life. It is not incredible that his very erratic mind gave way at the last. Nor is it surprising that he should destroy the deed and hide the pearls under stress of sudden insanity.”
“And what is your theory regarding the manner of his death?”
“I have no definite theory; but I wish to call attention to the fact that I found several shot on the floor at Mr. Van Wyck’s feet”
My statement produced quite a sensation in the audience; for the suggestion of shot seemed to imply at least a possible method of the crime.
But the detective, Mr. Markham, interrupted me and said quietly: “It is not worth while, Mr. Coroner, to waste time in consideration of the shot. There is a small receptacle on Mr. Van Wyck’s desk, filled with that same shot, used as a pen-cleaner. I observed that the shot found on the floor was the same, as I have no doubt it was spilled by accident”
The Coroner turned to Doctor Mason and inquired if Mr. Van Wyck’s death could have been brought about by shot.
“No,” replied the doctor positively. “I probed the wound and found no bullet or shot. David Van Wyck was stabbed, and the weapon was afterward withdrawn. I cannot subscribe to the icicle theory, though I do not say it would be impossible. But the deceased was most assuredly not shot.”
I felt crestfallen and a little ashamed. For, having picked up the shot, I should have noticed the same among the furnishings of the desk. The coroner asked me only a few more questions, of relative unimportance, and was about to dismiss me when he added, as an afterthought, “When did you last see Mr. Van Wyck alive?”
It was the query I had been dreading. But there was nothing for it except to tell the truth. Involuntarily, I glanced at Anne, but her eyes were cast down, and she paid no heed to me.
“Of course I was with him at dinner,” I said, “and after dinner he left us to go to the study. After that I saw him a moment when from the terrace I glanced in at the study window.”
“You glanced in? For what purpose?”
“No particular purpose. Mrs. Van Wyck and I were strolling by, and merely chanced to look in.”
“What was Mr. Van Wyck doing?”
“Conferring with the committee from the village, I assumed. We could not hear his words, of course, nor did we try to.”
“What was Mr. Van Wyck’s apparent attitude?”
“He seemed to be angry,” I felt myself obliged to say.
“Angry at the gentlemen of the committee?”
I was indeed sorry to give this evidence, but I was forced to do it. To decline to answer would be absurd, and, after all, everybody knew that Morland and his father were at odds in the matter. So I said, “No, he was addressing his son.”
“Ah! And he seemed to be angry?”
“He did.”
“Then, they were quarrelling?”
“As to that, I cannot say. I merely tell you what I saw: that Mr. Van Wyck was addressing his son, and that he had the appearance of being angry.” The coroner excused me then, and, turning to Morland, said directly, “Did you quarrel with your father last evening?”
“I told him what I thought of his procedure,” replied Morland. “I make no secret of the fact that I tried my best to persuade my father not to give away his fortune.”
“And do you persist in your assertion that when you left your father at midnight his secretary was still with him?”
“I do,” said Morland firmly.
“And you deny this, Mr. Lasseter?”
“I do,” replied the secretary, quite as positively. This deadlock was a peculiar feature of the situation. Both men could not be telling the truth, and, considering Morland’s greater reason for desiring that the great gift should not be made, perhaps it was not strange that many of the audience began to turn upon him the eye of suspicion.
Everybody now had testified, and the coroner began summing up.
“I have had no direct evidence,” he said, “that would tend to cast suspicion on any person. I think we must all admit that since the room was locked and barred on the inside, Mr. Van Wyck’s death was not a murder. I think the erratic mind of the deceased gives us reason to assume a sudden attack of insanity. I think we must agree that if it was suicide, there was no possible means or method, unless we accept the really clever suggestion of the icicle.”
At this point Mr. Markham interrupted! the coroner.
“I think we may discard the icicle theory,” he said, “as I have found the weapon with which the crime was committed. Here it is.”
Stepping forward, he laid on the table in front of the coroner a small, sharp implement partly covered with brownish stains.
The coroner looked at it as if he could scarcely believe his eyes. “What is it?” he said, picking it up gingerly.
“It is an implement used in embroidering,” said Mr. Markham. “It is called a stiletto, and it forms part of every lady’s sewing equipment.”
The audience were fairly breathless with suspense. Swayed by the slightest hint, they were quite ready to drop suspicion of Morland and turn it toward the women of the family.
“Where did you find this?” said the coroner.
“In Mrs. Van Wyck’s dressing-room,” returned the detective.
“Is it your property?” asked the coroner of Anne.
“Yes,” she replied, after a glance at the stiletto. “It belongs in my work-basket.”
“Can you account for these stains upon it?” pursued the coroner, and he showed far more agitation than did the woman he addressed.
“I cannot,” she replied coldly. “I have never used it except for embroidery purposes.”
Now, of course if Anne Van Wyck had used this implement for the purpose of killing her husband, she could scarcely be expected to say so. And so her flat denial carried little weight
“Where in the dressing-room was it found?” asked the coroner.
“Hidden beneath a pile of towels in a cupboard,” replied Mr. Markham.
Whereupon the coroner inquired of Doctor Mason if the stiletto would have been a possible instrument of death.
“Mr. Van Wyck was stabbed with some weapon about that size,” replied the doctor gravely.
“And are these brownish stains upon it stains of blood?”
“That I cannot tell without subjecting them to analysis,” returned the doctor, but his hearers were impressed with the thought that he was endeavoring by delay to give Anne the benefit of the doubt.
“I think,” went on the coroner, in a hesitating manner, “that this piece of evidence must change the trend of our inquiries. Mrs. Van Wyck, did you or did you not