The Almost Perfect Murder Part 26

IV.

We made a tour of Commodore Varick's private suite under guidance of Gabbitt, the English valet. This Gabbitt was a quaint-looking person, like the figure of a barber out of an old-fas.h.i.+oned print; a neat, brisk, spare little man with a great bush of hair that looked as if it had been artificially curled. One expected to see a comb sticking in it ready for use. It would have been impossible to guess the man's age. It transpired that he had served the Commodore for over twenty years. He was devoted to his master, but took the present situation very philosophically. He had the air of a man who has seen so much that nothing can astonish him any more. He answered Mme. Storey's questions promptly and with seeming candour. It did not appear to occur to him that, as one of the last persons who had seen Commodore Varick alive, he might be under suspicion too.

First we entered a plainly-furnished room at the north end of the second floor, that Gabbitt called the office. There was a young woman operating a typewriter here, who neither paused in her work nor so much as looked around when we pa.s.sed through. This struck me as strange. I wondered what on earth she could be writing at such a time. Adjoining the office was the Commodore's study, a handsome corner room corresponding to Mrs. Varick's boudoir at the other end of the house. It was luxuriously furnished in masculine style with immense leather-covered easy-chairs grouped round the fireplace, and many rare sporting prints hanging from the panelled walls.

Mme. Storey's first examination of this room was hasty, but she did not miss much. A sheet of paper lying with others on an open escritoire attracted her attention. There was a drawer below with a key in it. She put the paper in the drawer, locked it and took the key. "Something I will study later," she said.

Outside the study there was a little foyer, and from that a short pa.s.sage leading to the other rooms of the suite. Opening off the pa.s.sage were, in order, a serving pantry, a little bedroom for Gabbitt, and the Commodore's bathroom. Here Mme. Storey opened a wall cabinet. Her eyes skated rapidly over the miscellaneous articles on the shelves, and fastened on two kinds of medicine; a liquid, and some capsules in a little pasteboard box. She asked what they were.

"Digitalis in the bottle, 'm," said Gabbitt. "For the heart. Fifteen drops in water three times a day. The capsules were for the digestion; one after every meal."

"The Commodore was taking these at present?"

"Yes, ma'am. The prescriptions were refilled regular."

We took these medicines, and afterwards sent them to a chemist to be a.n.a.lysed.

Next came the dressing-room, another comfortable lounging place, with a dressing-table, chiffoniers, and with clothes presses built into the walls. Beyond it was the Commodore's bedroom, where his body still lay. A man was on guard there. I averted my eyes from the bed. Mme. Storey did not examine the body at this time, but merely inquired what lay beyond the farther door. It was Mrs. Varick's bedroom, Gabbitt said, and beyond that were the other rooms of her suite. Both suites extended along the Fifth Avenue front of the house. Between the two of them, these little people, neither of whom exceeded five feet six in height, spread themselves over eight or more immense private chambers. Such is earthly glory!

We returned to the study, where Mme. Storey questioned Gabbitt at some length. The valet told how he had been having tea in the servants' hall when a call over the house 'phone summoned him to his master. He found the Commodore lying in agony upon the floor of the dressing-room. I omit the harrowing details. a.s.sisting his master to his bed, Gabbitt telephoned for the doctor and for Jarboe. He tried to get Mrs. Varick, but she was out of the house. During the brief interval that elapsed before the arrival of the doctor, the valet applied what restoratives his experience suggested.

"Gabbitt, did you suspect poison?" Mme. Storey asked. (I ought to state that the valet knew by this time what had happened.) "Well, ma'am," he answered, "I think the thought was somewhere in the back of my head, but I did not acknowledge it. Being but a servant, I left it to my betters."

In one respect Gabbitt's story differed sharply from Dr. Slingluff's. Up to the moment that he was sent out for atropine, the Commodore's mind, he insisted, was perfectly clear. The sick man would allow no one to be sent for but his wife and the doctor. He evinced an agonising anxiety lest the doctor might not come in time, but it was not with any idea that he could be saved. He knew he was dying.

"Did he suggest that he had been poisoned?"

"No, ma'am, no! He kept sayin' it was gastritis."

"H'm!" said Mme. Storey.

"He said one thing that was strange," Gabbitt went on, biting his lip--it was the first evidence of emotion the little man had shown; "He says, 'Gabbitt, if I should go out of my head, I beg of you never to repeat what I say! Bury it in your breast!'" The little valet turned away and made believe to arrange some objects on the table. "That hurt me, ma'am," he murmured. "But I didn't let on anything. I just pressed his hand, and he seemed satisfied.... As if I would have given him away! After twenty years!..."

He straightened up and went on in his ordinary voice: "There was no need for me to go for the atropine, but I got the idea the Commodore had something private to tell the doctor, so I left the room. I have seen men die before, and I knew that neither atropine nor nothing else could save my master then. I wasn't gone but ten minutes. When I got back he was dead."

"Gabbitt," said Mme. Storey, "who was the last person he saw before he was taken sick?"

"Why, ma'am, so far as I know it was Miss Priestley," was the answer. "Him and her had their tea together every afternoon at four when he was home."

"Miss Priestley?"

"His secretary, 'm. That is to say, his literary secretary. That is the young lady who is working the typewriter in the next room."

"Why do you call her literary secretary?"

"To distinguish her from his private secretary and his financial secretary. Those two are gentlemen. The Commodore was writing his memoirs, and Miss Priestley was engaged to help him with that. Every afternoon from two until four, when his engagements permitted, they worked together, and after tea the young lady went home."

"And tea was served yesterday as usual?"

"Yes'm. I took it in myself from Hannaford, one of the maids, and set it out on this very table. Then I called my master, and went down to my own tea in the servants' hall."

"What did the tea consist of?"

"Just thin bread and b.u.t.ter, 'm, and a plain cake. The Commodore ate very plain, along of his gastritis, but he does love his tea--did love it, I mean. He would drink two or three cups of an afternoon."

"Gabbitt, tell me the exact arrangement of the tea tray," said my employer. While she listened to him, she lit a cigarette.

"Yes'm. All they sent up from downstairs was the bread and b.u.t.ter and the cake; also cream if required; the Commodore did not use it himself. The Commodore's own special brand of tea I keep up here in a silver tea-caddy, also the silver kettle which plugs into an electric outlet. The Commodore had his own notions about how tea should be made; he wanted every cup made separate. So the tea was put into silver tea b.a.l.l.s which were dipped into the cups after the boiling water was drawn."

"Did the Commodore do this himself?"

"Oh, no, 'm. If there was a lady at the table she did the honours."

"Did the Commodore take his tea weak or strong?"

"Very strong, 'm. He liked to taste it bitter."

"Did the Commodore and Miss Priestley always have tea alone together?"

"No, 'm. There might be other guests from time to time. Or if the Commodore had special guests, Miss Priestley might take her tea in the housekeeper's room."

"When you were called back upstairs had the tea things been removed?"

"I can't say, ma'am. I was too excited to take notice. After my master was dead I tidied up, not knowin' what else to do. They was gone then."

Mme. Storey pressed out the lighted end of her cigarette in an ash tray. "All right, Gabbitt; thank you very much," she said. "We had better talk to Miss Priestley, since she is close at hand."

V.

When we entered the office for the second time, the girl arose from her machine and turned around as if she had guessed what we came for. I was astonished when I saw her. Certainly the Varicks, both husband and wife, had a flair for beauty in choosing those who served them. Miss Priestley was a very Juno, a maiden Juno, tall and dark with Juno's short upper lip, straight nose and haughty glance. Superb! However, I withheld my judgment for a while because I have learned that these G.o.ddess-like sh.e.l.ls sometimes house very small souls. I wondered if the solution to the mystery lay in her. She was visibly all keyed up, but that was natural. She had herself under good control.

She knew as much as Gabbitt did of the situation, consequently it was not necessary to enter into explanations. My employer introduced herself, and, in order to persuade the girl to relax, murmured the obvious things about what a sad occasion it was, etc., etc. The secretary rose to it like any woman--in words, but with a curiously monotonous voice like a child repeating a lesson. Her remote glance did not share in what she was saying. She was like a beautiful statue with a phonograph inside it.

"Yes, I have lost more than my job here," she said, "I have lost a friend. All I can do for him now is to finish his work." She waved her hand towards the machine.

"Sit down," said Mme. Storey soothingly. "I am told that you were perhaps the last person to see the Commodore before he was taken sick, and I look to you to help me."

"Certainly," said Miss Priestley--but she did not sit. "Anything I can do. However, I am not the one you are looking for."

Her odd manner intrigued my employer. "No?" she said with half a smile. She was studying the girl through her lashes.

The secretary went on in her toneless voice: "You have been told that I had tea with the Commodore yesterday, but I did not."

"Who did?"

She made a slight gesture with her hand. "Secrecy was enjoined upon me, but I suppose everything has got to come out now. It was the Princess Cristina von Habsburg."

The amused look faded out of Mme. Storey's eyes. "So?" she said quietly. "What were the circ.u.mstances?"

"Commodore Varick wished to have a private talk with the Princess without anybody in the house knowing about it. Everything is gossiped about so. The Princess is staying in the house. As soon as the tea had been brought, and Gabbitt had gone down to his tea, I was sent to fetch her. Her suite is on the south side of the house. I brought her to the door of the Commodore's study, and then I went down and had tea with Mrs. Colford in her room."

"Mrs. Colford being the housekeeper?"

"Yes."

"What did Commodore Varick want to talk to the Princess about?"

Miss Priestley answered with a perfectly expressionless face: "I don't know. That is outside my province."

It was pretty clear that she was lying here, but it would have done no good to tax her with it. Mme. Storey went on: "How long did she remain in his study?"

"I can't tell you. I did not see her again. After I had finished my tea, I went home. That was before the news of the Commodore's illness had got about. I knew nothing of it until I read it in the newspaper this morning."

"What a shock it must have given you!" murmured Mme. Storey.

"Yes," said the girl. Not a muscle of her face changed when she said it. An extraordinary person.

"Where is the Princess now?" asked my employer.

"I understand that she has left the house, but I cannot tell you where she has gone."

"Let us ask Jarboe." My employer looked about the room. "May I ring?"

"The telephone is quicker," said Miss Priestley. She took down the receiver, and said in the same cold toneless voice: "Please ask Mr. Jarboe to come to the Commodore's office for a moment."

While we waited for Jarboe, Mme. Storey lit a cigarette. Miss Priestley declined one. My employer sauntered about the room making polite conversation. But I knew of old that her mind was not necessarily idle when she was making idle talk. I could see that her eyes were busy; I could see too, that the secretary was covertly watching her with a strained air; and for the dozenth time that day I asked myself: What dreadful secret does this grand house conceal!

Jarboe was quickly at the door. He knew that Mme. Storey was a person to be deferred to. She asked him at once what had become of the Princess.

Jarboe, of course, had had to be taken into the family confidence as far as anybody, but he was the butler of butlers, and though murder stalked through the house, there was not the slightest alteration in his usual demeanour. His superb aplomb might have concealed anything--or nothing. He said: "Her Highness left the house shortly after four yesterday afternoon, Madame."

"Did you see her go?"

"No, Madame, n.o.body saw her leave except Wilc.o.x the footman, who was attending upon the front door."

"What did he tell you?"

"He told me that the Princess came running downstairs alone, in a high state of agitation. In fact, she was weeping. Wilc.o.x was very much upset. He thought it most unseemly that her Highness should appear upon the street in such state, and he hesitated about opening the door. She stamped her foot, and commanded him to open it, and of course, he had no recourse but to obey. He came immediately to tell me, and I went to the Princess's suite. I found that her lady-in-waiting, Madame von Hofstetter, did not know that the Princess had left the house. She was greatly upset. However..."

"Wait a minute," interrupted Mme. Storey; "did she have no hat on when she ran out of the house?"

Miss Priestley answered. "She already had her hat on when I fetched her."

"I see. Go on, please, Jarboe."

"While I was still talking to Madame von Hofstetter," he continued, "the telephone rang, and it was the Princess. She ordered Madame von Hofstetter and her maids to follow her immediately to the Hotel Madagascar. They packed very hastily, and left within half an hour."

"Then they were all out of the house before the alarm of the Commodore's illness was raised?"

"Yes, Madame. I sent the trunks to the hotel later."

"Have you any idea of the reason for the Princess's abrupt departure?"

"None whatever, Madame."

Who could say if he was telling the truth?

My employer turned to me. "Well, let us go ask her, Bella."

It turned out that there was quite a crowd hanging about the front door, which included both reporters and photographers. It was of the highest importance that our comings and goings should not be remarked, so Jarboe put us into a car in the rear courtyard of the house. We pulled down the curtains and got out unseen.

"Big game, Bella!" said my employer to me with a curious dry smile. "The Princess is a member of one of the greatest houses of the old world. Her ancestors have ruled for centuries. The ex-King of Saxony is her brother-in-law, I believe, and she calls the King of England cousin. It is the first time we have stalked Royalty!"

"How strange that Priestley girl's manner was," I said.

"That in itself signifies nothing," she answered. "Everybody in the house was acting strangely. Except Gabbitt. Perhaps Gabbitt did it. He was the only one who had his wits about him."

But I did not think she was speaking seriously.

In three minutes we were at the Madagascar. Mme. Storey asked for the manager. We did not suppose, of course, that the Princess had registered under her own name. "A young foreign lady of high position," said my employer. "She came yesterday alone, and was followed later by her companion, and several maids."

"Oh, you mean the Countess von Hilgenreiner," said the manager. "She left an hour ago to go on board the Baratoria."

An exclamation was forced from my employer. "Good heavens! And the Baratoria sails at three!"

Our eyes flew to the clock on the wall. The hands pointed to ten minutes to three. And the pier was three miles away, the streets crowded with traffic! We ran out of the office leaving the manager staring.

"Quick, Bella," cried Mme. Storey. "Jump in that car at the door and drive as fast as you can to the s.h.i.+p. Go down Tenth Avenue."

"I can't possibly make it!" I stammered.

"Go!" she cried. "The s.h.i.+p is connected by telephone. I will get the Commander on the wire and ask him to wait for you. Tell him that there are police reasons for detaining the Countess von Hilgenreiner, or whatever she calls herself. I will follow you as soon as I can pick up Inspector Rumsey. We will need official support in this."