The Almost Perfect Murder Part 28

"Sure!" he cried, "you must not desert me now."

"Very well," she said, "I will return to the Varick house and stay there until I see light. I will communicate with you by telephone when necessary, according to the method we have used before. You and your men must trace that anonymous letter to its source if it is humanly possible to do so. The Princess and her entourage will stay here in my place, under guard. Bella goes with me."

While Mme. Storey was still issuing instructions, her maid Grace entered, bearing a letter on a salver. She said: "This has just come, Madame. It is marked urgent, so I brought it right up."

Mme. Storey put out an inattentive hand for the envelope. But when her eyes fell upon it she started. "Look at this!" she cried, holding it up. The address was printed in the same sort of carefully-formed characters that had appeared on the anonymous letter addressed to the Inspector. She tore it open. It contained a slip similar to that other slip, with a single line of printed characters:

LOOK INTO HANK VARICK'S MOVEMENTS YESTERDAY.

VIII.

In my employer's quaint and charming parlour, Mme. Storey and Inspector Rumsey laid out a joint plan of campaign. It was of prime importance to trace the two anonymous letters to their source. The Inspector had already set the police machinery in motion to trace them through the mails, while Mme. Storey was to work to the same end inside the Varick house. It was fairly obvious now that they had originated in the house, since no one knew that Mme. Storey was at work upon the case except certain persons in the Varick household. Inspector Rumsey further agreed to have the recent movements of young Henry Varick investigated as far as possible, and a report prepared for Mme. Storey covering the young man's whole career, so far as the details might be learned from old newspapers, and from inquiries amongst his a.s.sociates. By this time the Inspector's doctors had definitely reported to him that Commodore Varick had come to his death as the result of a powerful dose of the alkaloid of aconite. Tannin was also found, and the inference was that he had taken the drug in strong tea. But this was not positively established. The police were already at work endeavouring to trace any sales of the drug aconitina that might have been made lately. Sales of this powerful drug were rare.

In order to provide us with additional a.s.sistance inside the house, Mme. Storey arranged to have Crider, our cleverest and most dependable operator, apply to Jarboe, the Varick butler, for a job as footman. She arranged with Jarboe later to take him on. The Princess Cristina von Habsburg, her lady-in-waiting and their maids, were to be accommodated in Mme. Storey's maisonnette for the present. Mme. Storey's servants were to feed them and make them as comfortable as possible, and a plain-clothes man would be on guard in the entrance corridor at all hours of the day and night. The Princess was given the privilege of consulting counsel, but she made no move to do so. I need hardly say that she very willingly joined with us in our little conspiracy to keep this case out of the newspapers for the moment. We expected it to break sooner or later.

All these arrangements having been effected, Mme. Storey telephoned to the Varick house for the same car that had carried us away from there three hours earlier. It was a closed car, having shades that pulled down inside the windows, and by this means we returned to the house, through the courtyard, without having been recognised by any of the loungers or watchers in the street. We made our headquarters in Commodore Varick's office on the second floor. It was now nearly six, and Miss Priestley, the "literary secretary," had gone home. We had learned that Mr. Henry Varick was still with his mother, but Mme. Storey made no effort to see him as yet. She wished to avoid giving him any reason to suspect that he was being investigated. We interviewed several members of the household whom I need not mention, since they contributed nothing of moment to the case. My job was to take notes of all interviews.

It was not until Mme. Storey had her second talk with Gabbitt, the Commodore's valet, that we began to strike pay ore. The quaint little fuzzy-headed man made an excellent witness, but how far he was telling the truth, I could never have undertaken to say. He was a philosopher in his way. There was a curious reasonableness about him--I mean, that while he was devoted to his master, he nevertheless felt free to criticise him. At this time we were making a more intensive examination of the Commodore's suite.

"Gabbitt," said my mistress, "what were the relations between Mr. Henry and his father?"

"Bad, ma'am," said Gabbitt. "All the world knows that."

"But how do you mean bad?"

"Well, ma'am, it was the usual thing between a rich father and his son. Particularly when it's an only child. When he was little, Mr. Henry was spoiled, and when he grew up his father blamed him because he turned out wilful."

"When did the trouble between them start?"

"Four, five years ago when Mr. Henry was in college. He was very wild. It was one sc.r.a.pe after another."

"With women?"

"Yes, ma'am, gen'ally speakin'. Mr. Henry complained to me once that it wasn't his fault, that they fair flung themselves at his head. Quite apart from being William Henry Varick, and all that, Mr. Henry is a very attractive young man, so gay and full of life."

"So we have perceived," said Mme. Storey.

"He wasn't to blame for all the trouble, though it is only fair to state that he wasn't no Sir Galahad neither."

"It is scarcely to be expected," said my employer dryly.

"His name made him a fair mark for scoundrels, and there was always somebody, either man or woman, trying to blackmail him. It cost the Commodore a pretty penny to settle with such people. The Commodore was very sensitive about any scandal attaching to the family name. Mrs. Varick would take her son's part, naturally, and there were bitter family scenes. My memory is hazy about the details of these sc.r.a.pes..."

"Never mind that," said Mme. Storey. "Proceed."

"The Commodore was always reproaching his son for doing nothing but spend money," Gabbitt continued, "and some time after he had left college--he did not graduate--Mr. Henry undertook to go into business on his own account. In college the only thing he had been any good at was chemistry...."

"Oh, chemistry," said Mme. Storey.

"Yes, 'm, and so his thoughts naturally turned towards the chemical business. His idea was to form a combination of all the drug manufacturers in the country, and to found a great research laboratory that would advance the whole business. It looked like a good scheme, and his father backed him heavily, stipulating only that the family name be kept out of it. The Commodore didn't want to be connected with trade in any way."

"Quite!" said my employer.

"It started off all right, but something happened. I don't understand the details. Mr. Henry always claimed that he had been rooked. Very likely he lacked the skill and experience to conduct so vast an enterprise. At any rate, there was a tremendous crash, and whereas it had cost the Commodore a few thousands to get his son out of his college sc.r.a.pes, his liabilities in the chemical affair ran into the millions. The family finances were seriously affected. It led to a bitter quarrel between father and son, and since that time, Mr. Henry has not been seen much about the house. It is said that he visited his mother secretly. Last summer Mrs. Varick patched up a truce between father and son, and in the fall Mr. Henry accompanied us to Europe."

"Gabbitt," said Mme. Storey, "from your observation, would you say that the affair between Mr. Henry and the Princess Cristina was a serious one?"

"She thought it was," said the little man promptly, "and Mr. Henry was undeniably smitten. But we who had watched him grow up were not taken in by it. He was easily smitten. As soon as we sailed home she pa.s.sed out of his mind. Why, there was a girl on board s.h.i.+p..."

"Never mind her," said my employer good-naturedly, "but tell me what was the last occasion that Mr. Henry saw his father."

"Day before yesterday, 'm. This is Wednesday, yes, it was Monday afternoon."

"What were the circ.u.mstances of his visit?"

"The Commodore had been telegraphing and telephoning all over the country to find him, the Princess Cristina being here. The general feeling amongst us servants was that Mr. Henry was purposely keeping out of the way. Be that as it may, when he was sent for he had to come. He came on Monday afternoon, and there was a terrible quarrel between him and his father in the study. I supposed that it was over the Princess, being as the Commodore's heart was set on that match. I was in and out of the dressing-room and the pantry, and just at the end, Mr. Henry opened the door into the foyer, and I heard his father call after him: 'I never want to see you again!' And Mr. Henry's answer, hard and bitter: 'You shan't!' Then the slam of the door, and Mr. Henry was gone!" Gabbitt made a dramatic pause.

"Go on," said Mme. Storey.

"It had happened before," he resumed, "and I didn't take it so serious. Not until yesterday morning, that is, when the Commodore's lawyer turned up and a new will was made."

"Oh, a new will."

"Yes, ma'am. That had happened before, too. But on former occasions the lawyer had been called in and instructions given him, and after a few days he would come back with the will to be signed. This time the will was made on the spot, so I knew the Commodore was bitter angry. The lawyer wrote it out himself on Miss Priestley's typewriter, and afterwards Miss Priestley and me was called into the study to witness it. It was a short will; scarcely filled one sheet of paper. The top part of the sheet was turned under when we signed, and I don't know what was in it."

We were in the pantry at this moment, and while Mme. Storey listened her eyes were pa.s.sing along the rows of cups and gla.s.ses on the little buffet. "One moment," she said. "Have you got a magnifying gla.s.s of any sort? A reading gla.s.s will do."

It was fetched her from the study. She examined the shelves. "Gabbitt, how many of these cups did you set out on the tea-table yesterday?" she asked.

"Two, ma'am. No guests were expected."

"Any of these gla.s.ses?" pointing to a row of tall, iridescent tumblers.

"No, ma'am. Those are for whisky and soda. The Commodore don't indulge at tea-time."

My employer pa.s.sed on into the study without offering any comment. "Well, go on," she said, and then, very unexpectedly: "Mr. Henry came back yesterday afternoon?"

"Why no, ma'am," said Gabbitt in great surprise. "Not after such a quarrel!" It seemed to me that he was a little too open-eyed, too innocent then.

"No?" said Mme. Storey carelessly. "Well, that's all now. Thank you very much, Gabbitt."

He lingered in the doorway, eyeing her anxiously. He was longing to ask her a question, but did not dare. Mme. Storey affected to ignore him. He went out.

IX.

Mme. Storey questioned several of the servants with a view to learning if young Henry Varick had been in the house on the day before. All blandly denied it, nor could she entrap them into any admission.

"Lying," she said coolly, when the last had gone. "Notice that they did not say, 'I did not see him,' but all said, 'He was not here.'"

"Why not ask Mrs. Varick's pretty secretary, Miss Gilsey?" I suggested. "She could tell you."

"Quite," said Mme. Storey, "and would immediately tell Henry that I had asked. I don't want to put him on his guard. I want to meet him as if by accident, and fall into casual talk. If I am able to bring that about, don't you dare to let a notebook appear. Remember all that pa.s.ses as well as you can, and put it down afterwards."

With Jarboe, my employer pursued a slightly different method. She told the butler it was necessary for her to have a complete lay-out of the house in her mind, especially the second floor, and the three of us strolled around, while he pointed out the different rooms. Mme. Storey said: "The Commodore's suite, and Mrs. Varick's, which adjoins it, occupy the whole of the Avenue frontage on this floor. I've got that straight. What else is there?"

"On the south side is the guest suite lately occupied by the Princess Cristina," said Jarboe, indicating. "And there's an extra bedroom at the back that was given to her lady-in-waiting. Would you like to see the rooms?"

"Oh, no," said Mme. Storey. "I don't suppose they left anything behind."

"Next to the back bedroom comes the grand stairway," Jarboe continued, "and this pa.s.sage on the left of the stairway leads to the elevator, and on back to the main service corridor and service stairs."

We looked into the service corridor.

"Next to the pa.s.sage comes another guest-room," Jarboe said, proceeding; "not occupied at present; and on the north side of the house is Mr. Henry's suite, which consists of study and bedroom. The rooms have been his since his schooldays, and are still kept for him with all his things, though he has had a private apartment outside for the past two years."

It was strange to hear how the perfect butler's carefully modulated voice coloured with emotion when he mentioned the darling of the house.

"Mr. Henry is in the house at present," he went on, "and would, I am sure, be glad to have you see the rooms if I mentioned it to him."

"Never mind, thanks," she said.

"On the third floor," said Jarboe, like the guide on a sightseers' 'bus, "there are twenty-five rooms, including several suites for guests, the housekeeper's suite, rooms for the maids, and so on. The footmen sleep in the building across the court, which was once the stables. Would you wish to go upstairs, Madame?"

"No, thanks," said my employer dryly. "Jarboe," she said, in a voice that arrested his spiel, "there's a door there in the back corner, adjoining Mr. Henry's suite, that you have pa.s.sed over every time we have been around? Where does that go?"

"Another stairway," he said, with an air of great carelessness.

"And where do the stairs go?"

"Just to a pa.s.sage below."

"And where does that pa.s.sage go?"

"Nowhere in particular, Madame, just around the court."

"Who uses that stair?"

"n.o.body uses it now, Madame. What it may have been designated for originally, I cannot say."

"Well, let us explore it," said Mme. Storey.

The butler followed very unwillingly. The straight, narrow stairway led us into a bare pa.s.sage with windows looking out on the court. At the right, this pa.s.sage ended with a door opening on the main service hall and stairway; at the left, it turned a corner and continued around the north side of the court. On this side there was a small door opening from the pa.s.sage. My employer, trying it, found it locked. The dignified butler had a very unhappy air. He said: "That door leads into the ballroom, Madame. It is used only when there is an entertainment, to facilitate the service. Shall I send for the key?"

"No matter," said Mme. Storey, continuing.

The pa.s.sage ended on this side at a heavy door locked by a spring lock on our side. That is to say we could open the door, but could not come back that way without putting it on the latch. The wall we pa.s.sed through here was over a foot thick; evidently a party wall. On the other side of the door the pa.s.sage turned sharp to the left again. This part ran on endlessly, and was perfectly dark except for a glimmer of light through a gla.s.s door over a hundred feet away. There were no doors in it. It was a weird feature to find in a modern house. The door at the end, we found, gave on the street, but it was ingeniously masked by a stoop built over it. There was a heavy iron grille outside, such as they use to protect bas.e.m.e.nt doors. The street we looked on was one strange to us. However, it was not difficult to deduce that it was the next cross street to the north of that on which the public entrances of the Varick house opened. My employer looked at the disconcerted Jarboe with a smile.

"Jarboe," she said, "you are the chief servant of this household. How ridiculous to pretend that you did not know of the existence of this pa.s.sage. Why, who sweeps it?"

He spread out his hands in gesture of surrender. "Madame, you must pardon me. A good servant never betrays the private affairs of his master. The habit of years was too strong to be broken."

I thought it rather a neat apology.

"You're forgiven," said Mme. Storey, cheerfully. "Now tell me the history of this pa.s.sage."

"It was constructed during the last rebuilding of the house," said Jarboe. "The Commodore owns the houses at the back of his property, and had this pa.s.sage made under one of them so that he could enter and leave his house privately. So many people hang about the front door, newspaper reporters, photographers...."

"Process servers," put in Mme. Storey slyly.

"My master was a man of blameless life," said Jarboe with dignity.

"Oh, quite! I don't blame him. What's the use of being a millionaire, if you can't have a little privacy?"

Jarboe looked relieved. We strolled back.

"Jarboe," said Mme. Storey, "think before you answer my next question. The truth is bound to come out and you can best help the family by a.s.sisting me to get at it as quickly as possible.... Did young Mr. Henry also use this pa.s.sage?"

Jarboe stumbled in his speech, gulped hard, and finally blurted out. "Yes, Madame. Mr. Henry was also provided with the two keys necessary to come in this way."

"Did his father know about it?"

"I fancy not, Madame. I fancy Mrs. Varick must have procured the keys for Mr. Henry."

"Ah! Now, Jarboe, the truth! Did not Mr. Henry come in this way yesterday for the purpose of seeing his father?"

"No, Madame, no!" he replied agitatedly.

"But couldn't he have come this way, and gone out again without ever your seeing him?"

"If he had been in the house I should certainly have heard of it, Madame. There are servants everywhere, and everything is talked about among them."

"That is not quite an answer to my question. Is it not possible that Mr. Henry came this way yesterday and went out again without your seeing him?"

"Of course, it is possible, Madame," said Jarboe, with an unhappy air.