Final Proof: or, The Value of Evidence. Ottolengui Rodrigues
you mind stating those reasons?"
"You are not very shrewd if you cannot guess. I want this matter dropped. Had I denied the identity of the body it must have remained at the Morgue, entailing more newspaper sensationalism. By admitting the identity, I hoped that the body would be given to us for burial, and that the affair would then be allowed to die."
"Then if, as you now signify, this is not your brother's body, what shall I think of your suggestion that you yourself placed the body in the river?"
"What shall you think? Why, think what you like. That is your affair. The less you think about it, though, the better pleased I should be. And now really I cannot permit this conversation to be prolonged. You must go, and if you please I wish that you do not come here again."
"I am sorry that I cannot promise that. I shall come if I think it necessary. This is your sister's house, I believe, and she has expressed a wish that I pursue this case to the end."
"My sister is a fool. At any rate, I can assure you, you shall not get another chance at me, so make the most of what information I have given you. Good morning."
With these words Mr. Mark Quadrant walked out of the room, leaving Mr. Barnes alone.
Mr. Barnes stood for a moment in a quandary, and then decided upon a course of action. He touched the bell which he knew would call the butler, and then sat down by the grate fire to wait. Almost immediately his eye fell upon a bit of white paper protruding from beneath a small rug, and he picked it up. Examining it closely, he guessed that it had once contained some medicine in powder form, but nothing in the shape of a label, or traces of the powder itself, was there to tell what the drug had been.
"I wonder," thought he, "whether this bit of paper would furnish me with a clue? I must have it examined by a chemist. He may discern by his methods what I cannot detect with the naked eye."
With this thought in his mind, he carefully folded the paper in its original creases and deposited it in his wallet. At that moment the butler entered.
"What is your name?" asked Mr. Barnes.
"Thomas, sir," said the man, a fine specimen of the intelligent New York negro. "Thomas Jefferson."
"Well, Thomas, I am a detective, and your mistress wishes me to look into the peculiar circumstances which, as you know, have occurred. Are you willing to help me?"
"I'll do anything for the mistress, sir."
"Very good. That is quite proper. Now, then, do you remember your master's death?"
"Yes, sir."
"And his funeral?"
"Yes, sir."
"You know when the undertaker and his men came and went, and how often, I presume? You let them in and saw them?"
"I let them in, yes, sir. But once or twice they went out without my knowing."
"At five o'clock on the afternoon before the funeral, I am told that Mrs. Quadrant visited the room where the body was, and ordered that the coffin should be closed for the last time. Did you know this?"
"No, sir."
"I understand that at that time the undertaker and two of his men were in the room, as were also the two Mr. Quadrants, Mrs. Quadrant, and the doctor. Now, be as accurate as you can, and tell me in what order and when these persons left the house."
"Dr. Mortimer went away, I remember, just after Mrs. Quadrant went to her room to lie down. Then the gentlemen went in to dinner, and I served them. The undertaker and one of his men left together just as dinner was put on table. I remember that because the undertaker stood in the hall and spoke a word to Mr. Amos just as he was entering the dining-room. Mr. Amos then turned to me, and said for me to show them out. I went to the door with them, and then went back to the dining-room."
"Ah! Then one of the undertaker's men was left alone with the body?"
"I suppose so, unless he went away first. I did not see him go at all. But, come to think of it, he must have been there after the other two went away."
"Why?"
"Because, when I let out the undertaker and his man, their wagon was at the door, but they walked off and left it. After dinner it was gone, so the other man must have gone out and driven off in it."
"Very probably. Now, can you tell me this man's name? The last to leave the house, I mean?"
"I heard the undertaker call one 'Jack,' but I do not know which one."
"But you saw the two men – the assistants, I mean. Can you not describe the one that was here last?"
"Not very well. All I can say is that the one that went away with the undertaker was a youngish fellow without any mustache. The other was a short, thick-set man, with dark hair and a stubby mustache. That is all I noticed."
"That will be enough. I can probably find him at the undertaker's. Now, can you remember whether either of the gentlemen sat up with the corpse that night?"
"Both the gentlemen sat in here till ten o'clock. The body was across the hall in the little reception-room near the front door. About ten the door-bell rang, and I let in the doctor, who stopped to ask after Mrs. Quadrant. He and Mr. Amos went up to her room. The doctor came down in a few minutes, alone, and came into this room to talk with Mr. Mark."
"How long did he stay?"
"I don't know. Not long, I think, because he had on his overcoat. But Mr. Mark told me I could go to bed, and he would let the doctor out. So I just brought them a fresh pitcher of ice-water, and went to my own room."
"That is all, then, that you know of what occurred that night?"
"No, sir. There was another thing, that I have not mentioned to any one, though I don't think it amounts to anything."
"What was that?"
"Some time in the night I thought I heard a door slam, and the noise woke me up. I jumped out of bed and slipped on some clothes and came as far as the door here, but I did not come in."
"Why not?"
"Because I saw Mr. Amos in here, standing by the centre-table with a lamp in his hand. He was looking down at Mr. Mark, who was fast asleep alongside of the table, with his head resting on his arm on the table."
"Did you notice whether Mr. Amos was dressed or not?"
"Yes, sir. That's what surprised me. He had all his clothes on."
"Did he awaken his brother?"
"No. He just looked at him, and then tiptoed out and went upstairs. I slipped behind the hall door, so that he would not see me."
"Was the lamp in his hand one that he had brought down from his own room?"
"No, sir. It was one that I had been ordered to put in the room where the coffin was, as they did not want the electric light turned on in there all night. Mr. Amos went back into the front room, and left the lamp there before he went upstairs."
"Do you know when Mr. Mark went up to his room? Did he remain downstairs all night?"
"No, sir. He was in bed in his own room when I came around in the morning. About six o'clock, that was. But I don't know when he went to bed. He did not come down to breakfast, though, till nearly noon. The funeral was at two o'clock."
"That is all, I think," said Mr. Barnes. "But do not let any one know that I have talked with you."
"Just as you say, sir."
As it was now nearing noon, Mr. Barnes left the house and hastened up to Mr. Mitchel's residence to keep his engagement for luncheon. Arrived there, he was surprised to have Williams inform him that he had received a telephone message to the effect that Mr. Mitchel would not be at home for luncheon.
"But, Inspector," said Williams, "here's a note just left for you by a messenger."
Mr. Barnes took the envelope, which he found inclosed the following from Mr. Mitchel:
"Friend Barnes: —
"Am sorry I cannot be home to luncheon. Williams