LITMIR.BIZ

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shows slight marks of the cord, but it did not cut into the flesh on that side. Her wrists, too, show red marks and indentations, as of cords. It is inexplicable."

      "But the bruises?" pursued Mr. Chapin, "and the awful wound on her face?"

      "There is no doubt that she was attacked for the purpose of robbery. Moreover, the thief was looking for something in particular. It is clear that he stole money or valuables, but the state of the desk and safe prove a desperate hunt for some paper or article of special value. Also the pocket, cut and torn from the skirt, proves a determination to secure the treasure. As we reconstruct the crime, the intruder intimidated Mrs. Pell by threats and by physical violence; tied her while search was made through her room; and then, in a rage of disappointment, flung the old lady to the floor, where she hit her head on a sharp-pointed brass knob of the fender. This penetrated her temple and caused her death. These things are facts; also the state of the room, the overturned table and chairs, the broken lamp, the ransacked desk and safe—all these are facts; but what theory can account for the disappearance of the murderer from the locked room?"

      There was no answer until Detective Hughes said, "I've always been told that the more mysterious and insoluble a crime seems to be, the easier it is to solve it."

      "You have, eh?" returned the coroner; "then get busy on this one. It's beyond me. Why, that woman's wrist is sprained, if not broken, she has some internal injuries and she was suffering from shock and fright. The attack was diabolical! It may be that the murder was unpremeditated, but the mauling and bruising of the old lady was the work of a strong man and a hardened wretch."

      "Why didn't she scream sooner?" asked Hughes, who was listening intently. He had been detailed on other duties while his confrères investigated the scene of the crime.

      "Gagged, probably," answered Timken. "There are slight marks at the corners of her mouth which indicate a gag was used, for a time at least. How long was it," he said abruptly, turning to Iris, "that your aunt was in that room alone? I mean alone, so far as you knew?"

      "I don't know; I was up in my own room all the time after dinner, and—I don't know what time it was when they called me—I seem to have lost all track of time——"

      "Don't bother the girl," said Mrs. Bowen. "Polly, you tell about the time."

      The servants were in and out of the room, now clustered at the doorway, now hurrying off on errands and back again.

      "It musta been about ha' past three when I heard her scream," said Polly, "or maybe a bit earlier, but not much. I was in the dining room, settin' the sideboard to rights after dinner, and I heard her holler."

      "And you went to the door at once?"

      "Yes; just 's quick 's I could. But the door was locked——"

      "Was that usual?"

      "Yes, sir, she often locks it when she takes a nap Sunday afternoons. And then I went and called Purdy, and we couldn't get in."

      "Yes, I know about the barred windows and so on. Did you hear any further sounds from Mrs. Pell?"

      "Some; sorta movin' around an' faint moanin's. But the truth is—we thought she was a foolin' us."

      "Fooling you?"

      "Yes, sir. Mrs. Pell, she was great for jokin'. Many's the time she's hollered, 'Help! Polly!' and when I'd get there, she'd laugh fit to kill at me. She was that way, sir. She was always foolin' us."

      "Is this true?" asked Timken, turning to the others.

      They all corroborated Polly's statements. Even Chapin, the lawyer, told of jests and tricks his wealthy client had played on him, and Winston Bannard declared he had suffered so much from his aunt's whims that he had been forced to move away.

      "And you, Miss Clyde, did she so tease you?"

      "Indeed she did," said Iris. "I think I was her favorite victim. Scarcely a day passed that she did not annoy and distress me by some practical joke. You know about the ink, this noon——" she turned to Mrs. Bowen.

      "Yes," said that lady, but she looked grave and thoughtful.

      "But surely," pursued the coroner, "one could tell the difference between the screams of a victim in mortal agony, and those of a jest!"

      "No, sir," and Polly shook her head. "Mrs. Pell was that clever, she'd make you think she'd been hurt awful, when she was just trickin' you. But, any ways, sir, me an' Purdy we did all we could, and we couldn't get in. Then Campbell, he come, and helped to break down the door——"

      "And you're sure the murderer couldn't have slipped through as you opened the door?"

      "Not a chance!" spoke up Campbell. "We smashed it open, the lock just splintered out of the jamb, as you can see for yourself, and we were all gathered in a clump on this side. No, sir, the room was quiet as death—and empty, save for Mrs. Pell, herself."

      "And she was dead, then?"

      "Yes, sir," asseverated Purdy, solemnly. "I ain't no doctor, but I made sure she was dead. She'd died within a minute or so, she was most as warm as in life, and the blood was still a flowin' from her head where she was struck."

      "Did you move anything in the room?"

      "No, sir, only so much as was necessary to get around. The table that was upset had a 'lectric lamp on it, which had a long danglin' green cord, 'cause it was put in after the reg'lar wirin' was done. I coiled up that 'ere cord, and picked up the pieces of broken glass, so's we could step around. But I left the bag and pocket-book and all, just where they was flung. And the litter from the desk, all over the floor, I didn't touch that, neither—nor I didn't touch the body."

      Purdy's voice faltered and his old eyes filled with tears.

      "You did well," commended the coroner, nodding his head kindly at him, "just one more question. Was Mrs. Pell in her usual good spirits yesterday? Did she do anything or say anything that seemed out of the ordinary?"

      "No," and Purdy shook his head. "I don't think so, do you, Polly?"

      "Not that I noticed," said his wife. "She cut up an awful trick on Miss Iris, but that wasn't to say unusual."

      "What was it?" and the coroner listened to an account of the date with ink in it. The story was told by Mrs. Bowen, as Iris refused to talk at all.

      "A pretty mean trick," was the coroner's opinion. "Didn't you resent it, Miss Clyde?"

      "She did not," spoke up the rector, in a decided way. "Miss Clyde is a young woman of too much sense and also of too much affection for her dear aunt, to resent a good-humored jest——"

      "Good-humored jest!" exclaimed Hughes. "Going some! a jest like that—spoilin' a young girl's pretty Sunday frock——"

      "Never mind, Hughes," reproved Timken, "we're not judging Mrs. Pell's conduct now. This is an investigation, a preliminary inquiry, rather, but not a judgment seat. Miss Clyde, I must ask that you answer me a few questions. You left your aunt's presence directly after your guests had departed?"

      "Within a few moments of their leaving."

      "She was then in her usual health and good spirits?"

      "So far as I know."

      "Any conversation passed between you?'

      "Only a little."

      "Amicable?'

      "What do you mean by that?"

      "Friendly—affectionate—not quarrelsome."

      "It was not exactly affectionate, as I told her I was displeased at her spoiling my gown."

      "Ah. And what did she say?"

      "That she would buy me another."

      "Did that content you?"

      "I wasn't discontented. I was annoyed at her unkind trick, and I told her so.

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