The Curved Blades. Wells Carolyn
steel, and the dark ones, flashing fire from their shadows, looked steadily at each other.
Gray Haviland came hurriedly out to the hall.
“The doctor will be here at once,” he said; “and he will call the coroner.”
“Coroner!” screamed Anita; and ran away to her own room.
“Let her alone,” said Pauline, contemptuously; “but Gray, we must nerve ourselves up to this thing. Don’t you think we ought to – to put away the jewels? It’s wrong to let any one come into a room where a fortune in jewels is displayed like that.”
“But Doctor Stanton said to touch nothing, – nothing at all. You see, Pauline, in a murder case, – ”
“Oh, I know; ‘nothing disturbed till the Coroner comes,’ and all that. But this is different, Gray. Doctor Stanton didn’t know there are two hundred thousand dollars’ worth of jewelry on that – that – on her.”
“How do you know so exactly?”
“I’m not exact, but she has told me times enough that the rope of pearls cost one hundred thousand, and that corsage ornament she is wearing and her rings and ear-rings are easily worth the same sum. I tell you there will be policemen here, and it isn’t right to throw temptation in their way.”
“Besides,” and Anita’s voice spoke again as she reappeared in the doorway, “besides, Pauline, they are all yours now, and you should be careful of them!”
The tone more than the words conveyed a veiled insolence, and Pauline accepted it for such. With a sudden determined movement, she went swiftly to her aunt’s side, and unfastened the long rope of pearls, the wonderful glittering sunburst, and a large diamond and emerald crescent that held together the glistening silk folds. The rings and ear-rings she could not bring herself to touch.
“It is only right,” she contended, as if trying to persuade herself, “these are too valuable to risk; no one could fail to be tempted by them.”
“Why don’t you finish your task?” said Anita, smiling unpleasantly, “why leave so much?”
“No one would attempt to take the rings or ear-rings,” said Pauline, steadily, “and that scarab bracelet is not of great value.”
“I thought that was a most valuable antique that her nephew sent her.”
“She thought so, too,” said Pauline, carelessly, “but Carr told me it was an imitation. Not one expert in a hundred can tell the difference, anyway.”
As Pauline placed the mass of gems in the safe, the doctor came. “What does it mean?” cried the bewildered man, coming into the room. “Miss Carrington – ”
Words failed him as he saw the astounding sight. For surely, no one had ever before seen a murdered woman, sitting before her dressing-table, staring but smiling, and garbed as for a fancy-dress ball!
Doctor Stanton touched the icy-cold hand, felt for the silent heart, and then turned his attention to the disheveled hair and broken comb.
“Fractured skull,” he said, as his skilled fingers thridded the auburn tresses. “Killed by a sudden, swift blow on the head with a heavy, blunt, – no, with a soft weapon; a black-jack or sandbag.”
“A burglar!” exclaimed Pauline.
“Of course; who else would deal such a blow? It was powerful, – dealt by a strong arm – it has driven bits of this broken shell stuff into the brain. But it was the force of the concussion that killed her. Here is a deep dent, – and yet. – Tell me the circumstances. Why is she rigged out like this?”
“I’ve no idea,” answered Pauline, taking the initiative. “When I left her last night, she had on an evening gown. But this negligée is not unusual; it is one of her favorites. Though why she has on that spangled scarf, I can’t imagine.”
“She seems to have been posing before the mirror, rather than engaged in making a toilette.” Dr. Stanton was a pompous middle-aged man of fussy manner. He did not again touch the body, but he stepped about, noting the strange conditions and commenting on them. “This paper snake, – tight round her neck! What does that mean?”
“What can it mean?” returned Pauline. “She had an intense hatred, – even fear of snakes; I’ve never seen it before. Could it have been placed there to frighten her to death?”
“No; she didn’t die of fright. See, her expression is placid, – even smiling. But the shattered comb and dented skull have but one explanation, – a stunning blow. Did she have on the comb last evening?”
“Yes; it is a favorite one with her. An heirloom, from a Colonial ancestor. It encircled the entire back of her head, when whole.”
“At what time was she killed?” asked Gray Haviland. He had stood, till now, a silent listener to the conversation between Pauline and the Doctor.
“Oh, many hours ago,” returned Stanton; “six or eight at least. Evidently she was preparing for bed, and trying the effect of some new finery.”
“Those things are not new,” put in Anita; “she has had them all a long time. But she must have been admiring herself, for when we found her she had on all her finest jewels.”
“What?” cried Dr. Stanton; “where are they?”
“I took most of them off,” replied Pauline, quietly, “and put them in the safe. If the police people must come, I am not willing to have a fortune in jewels here to tempt their cupidity. And I have a right. It is no secret that my cousin Carrington and I are her heirs. But that snake perplexes me beyond all else. If you knew her aversion to them, – even pictured ones – ”
“I do know it,” returned the doctor; “I have often heard her say so. Ah,” as he stepped carefully about, “she was adorning herself; see, here is powder scattered on the floor. She used this powder-puff, shaking it over the rug and floor.”
“I saw that the first thing!” cried Pauline, excitedly; “and there was a – ” she stopped, looking in amazement at the white dust on the floor. For where she had seen a distinct footprint, as of a stockinged foot, there was now merely a blurred whirl! Some one had obliterated that footprint!
“A what?” asked the doctor, sharply.
“Nothing. A – a lot of powder spilled, – I was going to say.”
Gray Haviland looked at her. “Tell the truth, Pauline,” he said.
“I have,” she replied, with a calm quite equalling his own. “Must we have the Coroner, Dr. Stanton?”
“Yes, yes, of course; I will telephone at once. There will be police and detectives, – oh, it is a terrible case! Nothing must be touched, nothing! If there is any clue to this mystery, do not let it be disturbed.”
“But you say it was without doubt a burglar who did it,” said Anita, her wide eyes gleaming blue.
“It must have been.”
“Then why were none of her jewels stolen?”
“Bless my soul!” and Dr. Stanton looked as if a bomb had exploded at his feet. “Sure enough! It cannot have been a burglar! Who, then? What other motive than robbery – ”
“It was a burglar,” declared Pauline, “and he was – he was frightened away by – by a noise – or something – ”
“Not likely!” said Anita, “with all those gems in easy reach!”
“The Coroner and the police must get here at once!” and the doctor wiped his perspiring brow. “Never have I seen such an inexplicable state of affairs! Was – was Miss Carrington indisposed at all last evening? Did she say or do anything unusual?”
“Not at all,” began Pauline, but Anita interrupted; “Yes, she did! She said, ‘You little know what’s going to happen to me! To-morrow you may sing another tune!’”
“What