turned to Ashton-Kirk.
"That sounds reasonable enough, eh?"
"Very much so,"replied Ashton-Kirk.
"A bayonet is a most unusual weapon,"said the coroner thoughtfully, readjusting his glasses. "And I think it would be a most awkward thing to carry around with one. Therefore, it would be a most unlikely choice for an intending assassin. I am of the opinion,"nervously, "that we may safely say that it was a sudden quarrel which ended in this,"and he gestured with both hands toward the body.
The safe doors were tried and found locked; a cash register was opened and found to contain what had been apparently the receipts of the day before. An examination of the cabinets and cases disclosed hundreds of ancient coins and other articles the value of which must have been heavy. But their orderly array had not been disturbed. A long curtain of faded green material hung from the wall at one side, as though to screen something from the sunlight and dust.
"What have we here?"said the coroner.
He stepped across the store and whisked the curtain aside. A large gilt frame was disclosed; and from it hung the slashed remains of a canvas.
"Hello!"exclaimed Osborne, with interest. "This begins to look like one of the old affairs that they say Hume's been mixed up in. Somebody's tried to cut that picture from the frame."
They examined it carefully. A keen knife had been run around the top and both sides, close to the frame. The painting hung down, its gray back displayed forlornly.
Stillman regarded it with great satisfaction.
"Here,"said he, "we at least have a possible motive."
Ashton-Kirk took a twisted walking stick from a rack, and with the end of it, raised the slashed canvas so that its subject could be seen. It was a heroic equestrian figure of an officer of the American Revolution. His sword was drawn; his face shone with the light of battle.
Pendleton was just about to cry out "General Wayne,"when the stick fell from his friend's hand, the canvas dropping to its former position. While the others were trying to get it into place once more, Ashton-Kirk whispered to Pendleton:
"Say nothing. This is their turn; let them work in their own way. I will begin where they have finished."
After a little time spent in a gratified inspection of the painting, Stillman said:
"But, gentlemen, let us have a look at the other rooms. There may be something more."
They re-passed through the store room and into the living room. Nothing here took the coroner's attention, and they entered the bedroom. Both these last had doors leading into the hall; upon their being tried they were found to be locked.
The smashed pictures upon the bedroom floor at once took the eye of Stillman. He regarded the broken places in the plaster and prodded the slivers of wood and glass with the toe of his shoe with much complacency.
"This completes the story,"declared he. "It is now plain from end to end. The criminal entered the building from the roof, made his way down stairs and gained admittance through the door which the scrub woman found unlocked. His purpose was to steal the painting in the front room.
"In a struggle with Hume, who unexpectedly came upon him, the intruder killed him. Not knowing the exact location of the picture he wanted, he first looked for it here. The light probably being bad he tore down every picture he could reach in order to get a better view of it. When, at last, he had found the desired work, he set about cutting it from its frame. But, before he had finished, something alarmed him, and he fled without the prize."
The stolid man listened to this with marked approval. Even Osborne reluctantly whispered to Pendleton:
"He's doped it out. I didn't think it was in him."
After a little more, the coroner said to his clerk:
"I think that is about all. Curran, see to it that the post-mortem is not delayed. Put a couple of our men on the case, have them make extensive inquiries in the neighborhood. Any persons who appear to possess information may be brought to my office at three o'clock. Especially I desire to see this Mrs. Dwyer, Berg, who keeps the store on the ground floor and the young man who was employed by Hume. I'll empanel a jury later."He took off his eye-glasses, placed them in a case and, in turn, carefully slipped this into his pocket. "At three o'clock,"he repeated.
"If I should not be intruding,"said Ashton-Kirk, "I should like to be present."
Stillman smiled with the air of a man triumphant, but who still desired to show charity.
"I shall be pleased to see you, sir,"he said, "then or at any other time."
CHAPTER V
STILLMAN ASKS QUESTIONS
It wanted a few minutes of three o'clock when Ashton-Kirk, still accompanied by the curious Pendleton, walked into the outer room of the coroner's suite.
"Mr. Stillman will be here at any moment now,"said Curran. Then lowering his voice and making a short little gesture from the elbow, he added: "These people are the ones he wanted to see."
As he and Pendleton sat down, Ashton-Kirk looked at the persons referred to. The first was a thin, wiry little woman, unmistakably Irish, cleanly dressed and with sharp, inquisitive eyes. Engaged in a low-pitched conversation with her was a thick-necked German, heavy of paunch and with a fat, red face. The third was a spectacled young Jew, poring over a huge volume which he seemed to have brought with him. He had a tremendous head of curling black hair; his clothing was shabby. There was a rapt expression upon his face; plainly nothing existed for him at that moment outside the pages of his book.
After a brief space, the coroner came in,
"Ah, how do you do, gentlemen,"greeted he. He was good-natured and strove to be easy; but his natural nervousness clung to him. "I am glad to see you."
He looked at Curran and nodded at the three inquiringly.
"Yes, sir,"replied the clerk; "these are the parties."
"Then we will get down to business."He opened a door and entered an inner room. "Will you come in?"he asked of Ashton-Kirk and Pendleton.
They followed him at once; and Curran, addressing the little Irishwoman, said:
"Now, Mrs. Dwyer, this way, please."
She arose briskly and also entered the inner room. Stillman seated himself at a desk and carefully perched his glasses upon his nose.
"I perhaps take more trouble than is customary in these cases,"he said to Ashton-Kirk. "It is usual to hear statements, I believe, only when they are proffered as testimony at the inquest. But it seems to me that the office should be carried on in a more thorough way. Preparation, I think, is necessary to get at the facts."
Then he faced the woman who had taken a chair beside the desk.
"Your full name, please,"said he.
"Honora Dwyer. I'm a widow with four children; I live at 71 Cormant Street, an' me husban' has been dead these three years,"declared she, in a breath.
Stillman smiled.
"You don't believe in keeping anything back, Mrs. Dwyer, I can see that,"said he. "And a very good trait it is."He leaned back in his swivel chair and looked at her through the glasses. "You are the person who discovered the body of Mr. Hume, are you not?"
"Yes, sir, I were,"replied Mrs. Dwyer; "and God spare me such another sight."
"Tell us about it,"said the coroner.
"I work as scrub woman for a good many in Christie Place an' the immejeat neighborhood,"said Mrs. Dwyer, genteelly. "But I always gets to Mr. Hume's first."
"You are quite sure you found the street door locked?"