The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин
they failed to find one.
“If you don’t object,” observed Mr. Gryce, after five minutes of useless search, “I will turn a more cheerful light upon the scene. Yellow does not seem to fit the occasion.”
“Give us rose, for unless you have some one on the other side of this steel plate, we seem likely to remain here till morning.”
“There is a man upstairs whom we may perhaps make hear, but what does this contrivance portend? It has a serious look to me, when you consider that every window in these two rooms has been built up almost under the roof.”
“Yes; a very strange look. But before engaging in its consideration I should like a breath of fresh air. I cannot do anything while in confinement. My brain won’t work.”
Meanwhile Mr. Gryce was engaged in examining the huge plate of steel which served as a barrier to their egress. He found that it had been made—certainly at great expense—to fit the curve of the walls through which it passed. This was a discovery of some consequence, causing Mr. Gryce to grow still more thoughtful and to eye the smooth steel plate under his hand with an air of marked distrust.
“Mr. Adams carried his taste for the mechanical to great extremes,” he remarked to the slightly uneasy man beside him. “This slide is very carefully fitted, and, if I am not mistaken, it will stand some battering before we are released.”
“I wish that his interest in electricity had led him to attach such a simple thing as a bell.”
“True, we have come across no bell.”
“It would have smacked too much of the ordinary to please him.”
“Besides, his only servant was deaf.”
“Try the effect of a blow, a quick blow with this silver-mounted alpenstock. Some one should hear and come to our assistance.”
“I will try my whistle first; it will be better understood.”
But though Mr. Gryce both whistled and struck many a resounding knock upon the barrier before them, it was an hour before he could draw the attention of Styles, and five hours before an opening could be effected in the wall large enough to admit of their escape, so firmly was this barrier of steel fixed across the sole outlet from this remarkable room.
Chapter V.
Five Small Spangles
Such an experience could not fail to emphasize Mr. Gryce’s interest in the case and heighten the determination he had formed to probe its secrets and explain all its extraordinary features. Arrived at Headquarters, where his presence was doubtless awaited with some anxiety by those who knew nothing of the cause of his long detention, his first act was to inquire if Bartow, the butler, had come to his senses during the night.
The answer was disappointing. Not only was there no change in his condition, but the expert in lunacy who had been called in to pass upon his case had expressed an opinion unfavorable to his immediate recovery.
Mr. Gryce looked sober, and, summoning the officer who had managed Bartow’s arrest, he asked how the mute had acted when he found himself detained.
The answer was curt, but very much to the point.
“Surprised, sir. Shook his head and made some queer gestures, then went through his pantomime. It’s quite a spectacle, sir. Poor fool, he keeps holding his hand back, so.”
Mr. Gryce noted the gesture; it was the same which Bartow had made when he first realized that he had spectators. Its meaning was not wholly apparent. He had made it with his right hand (there was no evidence that the mute was left-handed), and he continued to make it as if with this movement he expected to call attention to some fact that would relieve him from custody.
“Does he mope? Is his expression one of fear or anger?”
“It varies, sir. One minute he looks like a man on the point of falling asleep; the next he starts up in fury, shaking his head and pounding the walls. It’s not a comfortable sight, sir. He will have to be watched night and day.”
“Let him be, and note every change in him. His testimony may not be valid, but there is suggestion in every movement he makes. To-morrow I will visit him myself.”
The officer went out, and Mr. Gryce sat for a few moments communing with himself, during which he took out a little package from his pocket, and emptying out on his desk the five little spangles it contained, regarded them intently. He had always been fond of looking at some small and seemingly insignificant object while thinking. It served to concentrate his thoughts, no doubt. At all events, some such result appeared to follow the contemplation of these five sequins, for after shaking his head doubtfully over them for a time, he made a sudden move, and sweeping them into the envelope from which he had taken them, he gave a glance at his watch and passed quickly into the outer office, where he paused before a line of waiting men. Beckoning to one who had followed his movements with an interest which had not escaped the eye of this old reader of human nature, he led the way back to his own room.
“You want a hand in this matter?” he said interrogatively, as the door closed behind them and they found themselves alone.
“Oh, sir—” began the young man in a glow which made his more than plain features interesting to contemplate, “I do not presume——”
“Enough!” interposed the other. “You have been here now for six months, and have had no opportunity as yet for showing any special adaptability. Now I propose to test your powers with something really difficult. Are you up to it, Sweetwater? Do you know the city well enough to attempt to find a needle in this very big haystack?”
“I should at least like to try,” was the eager response. “If I succeed it will be a bigger feather in my cap than if I had always lived in New York. I have been spoiling for some such opportunity. See if I don’t make the effort judiciously, if only out of gratitude.”
“Well, we shall see,” remarked the old detective. “If it’s difficulty you long to encounter, you will be likely to have all you want of it. Indeed, it is the impossible I ask. A woman is to be found of whom we know nothing save that she wore when last seen a dress heavily bespangled with black, and that she carried in her visit to Mr. Adams, at the time of or before the murder, a parasol, of which I can procure you a glimpse before you start out. She came from, I don’t know where, and she went—but that is what you are to find out. You are not the only man who is to be put on the job, which, as you see, is next door to a hopeless one, unless the woman comes forward and proclaims herself. Indeed, I should despair utterly of your success if it were not for one small fact which I will now proceed to give you as my special and confidential agent in this matter. When this woman was about to disappear from the one eye that was watching her, she approached the curbstone in front of Hudson’s fruit store on 14th Street and lifted up her right hand, so. It is not much of a clew, but it is all I have at my disposal, except these five spangles dropped from her dress, and my conviction that she is not to be found among the questionable women of the town, but among those who seldom or never come under the eye of the police. Yet don’t let this conviction hamper you. Convictions as a rule are bad things, and act as a hindrance rather than an inspiration.”
Sweetwater, to whom the song of the sirens would have sounded less sweet, listened with delight and responded with a frank smile and a gay:
“I’ll do my best, sir, but don’t show me the parasol, only describe it. I wouldn’t like the fellows to chaff me if I fail; I’d rather go quietly to work and raise no foolish expectations.”
“Well, then, it is one of those dainty, nonsensical things made of gray chiffon, with pearl handle and bows of pink ribbon. I don’t believe it was ever used before, and from the value women usually place on such fol-de-rols, could only have been left behind