DETECTIVE CALEB SWEETWATER MYSTERIES (Thriller Trilogy). Anna Katharine Green
luxuries. At all events, they did not indulge in them.”
“Philemon has long been past indulging in anything.”
“Oh, he likes his comfort, and he has had it too. Agatha never stinted him.”
“But why do you think her death was due to her having money?”
“She had a large sum in the house, and there are those in town who knew this.”
“And is it gone?”
“That we shall know later.”
As the coroner arrived at this moment, the minister’s curiosity had to wait. Fortunately for his equanimity, no one had the presumption to ask him to leave the room.
The coroner was a man of but few words, and but little given to emotion.
Yet they were surprised at his first question:
“Who is the young woman standing outside there, the only one in the yard?”
Mr. Sutherland, moving rapidly to the window, drew aside the shade.
“It is Miss Page, my housekeeper’s niece,” he explained. “I do not understand her interest in this affair. She followed me here from the house and could hardly be got to leave this room, into which she intruded herself against my express command.”
“But look at her attitude!” It was Mr. Fenton who spoke. “She’s crazier than Philemon, it seems to me.”
There was some reason for this remark. Guarded by the high fence from the gaze of the pushing crowd without, she stood upright and immovable in the middle of the yard, like one on watch. The hood, which she had dropped from her head when she thought her eyes and smile might be of use to her in the furtherance of her plans, had been drawn over it again, so that she looked more like a statue in grey than a living, breathing woman. Yet there was menace in her attitude and a purpose in the solitary stand she took in that circle of board-girded grass, which caused a thrill in the breasts of those who looked at her from that chamber of death.
“A mysterious young woman,” muttered the minister.
“And one that I neither countenance nor understand,” interpolated Mr. Sutherland. “I have just shown my displeasure at her actions by dismissing her from my house.”
The coroner gave him a quick look, seemed about to speak, but changed his mind and turned toward the dead woman.
“We have a sad duty before us,” said he.
The investigations which followed elicited one or two new facts. First, that all the doors of the house were found unlocked; and, secondly, that the constable had been among the first to enter, so that he could vouch that no disarrangement had been made in the rooms, with the exception of Batsy’s removal to the bed.
Then, his attention being drawn to the dead woman, he discovered the key in her tightly closed hand.
“Where does this key belong?” he asked.
They showed him the drawers in the cupboard.
“One is empty,” remarked Mi. Sutherland. “If the other is found to be in the same condition, then her money has been taken. That key she holds should open both these drawers.”
“Then let it be made use of at once. It is important that we should know whether theft has been committed here as well as murder.” And drawing the key out, he handed it to Mr. Fenton.
The constable immediately unlocked the drawer and brought it and its contents to the table.
“No money here,” said he.
“But papers as good as money,” announced the doctor. “See! here are deeds and more than one valuable bond. I judge she was a richer woman than any of us knew.”
Mr. Sutherland, meantime, was looking with an air of disappointment into the now empty drawer.
“Just as I feared,” said he. “She has been robbed of her ready money. It was doubtless in the other drawer.”
“How came she by the key, then?”
“That is one of the mysteries of the affair; this murder is by no means a simple one. I begin to think we shall find it full of mysteries.”
“Batsy’s death, for instance?”
“O yes, Batsy! I forgot that she was found dead too.”
“Without a wound, doctor.”
“She had heart disease. I doctored her for it. The fright has killed her.”
“The look of her face confirms that.”
“Let me see! So it does; but we must have an autopsy to prove it.”
“I would like to explain before any further measures are taken, how I came to know that Agatha Webb had money in her house,” said Mr. Sutherland, as they stepped back into the other room. “Two days ago, as I was sitting with my family at table, old gossip Judy came in. Had Mrs. Sutherland been living, this old crone would not have presumed to intrude upon us at mealtime, but as we have no one now to uphold our dignity, this woman rushed into our presence panting with news, and told us all in one breath how she had just come from Mrs. Webb; that Mrs. Webb had money; that she had seen it, she herself; that, going into the house as usual without knocking, she had heard Agatha stepping overhead and had gone up; and finding the door of the sitting-room ajar, had looked in, and seen Agatha crossing the room with her hands full of bills; that these bills were big bills, for she heard Agatha cry, as she locked them up in the cupboard behind the book-shelves, ‘A thousand dollars! That is too much money to have in one’s house’; that she, Judy, thought so too, and being frightened at what she had seen, had crept away as silently as she had entered and run away to tell the neighbours. Happily, I was the first she found up that morning, but I have no doubt that, in spite of my express injunctions, she has since related the news to half the people in town.”
“Was the young woman down yonder present when Judy told this story?” asked the coroner, pointing towards the yard.
Mr. Sutherland pondered. “Possibly; I do not remember. Frederick was seated at the table with me, and my housekeeper was pouring out the coffee, but it was early for Miss Page. She has been putting on great airs of late.”
“Can it be possible he is trying to blind himself to the fact that his son Frederick wishes to marry this girl?” muttered the clergyman into the constable’s ear.
The constable shook his head. Mr. Sutherland was one of those debonair men, whose very mildness makes them impenetrable.
Chapter V.
A Spot on the Lawn
The coroner, on leaving the house, was followed by Mr. Sutherland. As the fine figures of the two men appeared on the doorstep, a faint cheer was heard from the two or three favoured persons who were allowed to look through the gate. But to this token of welcome neither gentleman responded by so much as a look, all their attention being engrossed by the sight of the solitary figure of Miss Page, who still held her stand upon the lawn. Motionless as a statue, but with her eyes fixed upon their faces, she awaited their approach. When they were near her she thrust one hand from under her cloak, and pointing to the grass at her feet, said quietly:
“See this?”
They hastened towards her and bent down to examine the spot she indicated.
“What do you find there?” cried Mr. Sutherland, whose eyesight was not good.
“Blood,” responded the coroner, plucking up a blade of grass and surveying it closely.
“Blood,” echoed Miss Page, with so suggestive a glance that