MYSTERY & CRIME COLLECTION. Hay James
I closed with him. I couldn't trust to hitting at him. It was too dark.
"I put out my hands to get his throat, but I misjudged things. I caught him by the waist. He had on a raincoat. I could tell it by the feel of the cloth. And I couldn't get a good hold of him. While I struggled with him, he got me by the throat. He was a powerful man, a dozen times stronger than I am.
"We swayed around there for a few minutes, a few seconds—I don't know which. We didn't make any noise. I couldn't do a thing. He choked me until I thought my head would burst open.
"When he realized I was all in, he gave me a shove that made me reel down the walk a dozen steps. He didn't stop to see what I did. He ran. That is, I suppose he ran. I didn't hear him, and I didn't see him again. He disappeared—completely."
Braceway looked at his watch. It was five minutes before train time.
"What did you do then?"
"Nothing."
"Where did you go, then? What did you think? Speed up, George! I want to get all this before you go."
"Yes," said Withers, a little catch in his throat; "I thought you ought to know about it. I—I stood there a moment, there in the rain, dazed, trying to get my breath. I'd intended going in to have it out with Enid. But I didn't. I suppose I knew, if I did, I'd kill her. And I guess now I would have.
"You see, I hadn't the faintest notion that anything had happened to her; had hurt her, I mean. I got myself in hand. I didn't do anything. I went back to the hotel. I planned to have a last talk with her later in the day."
"Tell me," Braceway asked with undisguised eagerness, "did this man wear a beard?"
"I think so. I've been thinking about that all day. I think he did, but I'm not sure."
"But you saw the plain silhouette, the outline of his head and body!"
"Yes. He might have had a beard, and again he might not. He was heavily built, with a short, thick neck, and, in the attitude he was in, foreshortened by the light being above him, a strong chin might have been magnified, might have cast a shadow like that of a beard."
"And when you were struggling with him? How about that? Didn't you get close to his face?"
"Yes; but he was taller than I was—I don't know—I can't remember. But I think he had the beard, all right."
"He didn't make any noise on the steps, you say. Did he have rubber shoes?"
"I don't know. My guess would be that he did."
The conductor began to shout, "All aboard!"
They started toward the Atlanta pullman.
"I wouldn't have told you—I can't see that any of this could affect the final result—but for the fact that something might have come up to embarrass you," Withers explained, still with the unpleasant, rattling whisper. "It might have led you to think I hadn't been frank with you."
He had his foot on the first step of the car. The porter was evidently anxious to get aboard and close the vestibule door.
"What do you mean?" Braceway caught him by the sleeve.
"Somehow," Withers leaned down to whisper, "in the struggle, I think, I dropped—I lost my watch. Somebody must have picked it up, you know."
"Damn!" exploded Braceway angrily. "Why didn't——"
The train began to move. The porter put his hand to Withers' elbow and hurried him up the steps.
Chapter XVI.
A Message From Miss Fulton
It was a little after three o'clock when Chief Greenleaf and Lawrence Bristow finished their "celebration dinner" and took their seats on the porch of No. 9. The host, accomplishing the impossible in a prohibition state, had produced a bottle of champagne, explaining: "Just for you, chief; I never touch it;" and the chief had enjoyed it, unmistakably.
At Bristow's suggestion they refrained from discussing any phase of the murder during the meal.
"All we have to do now," he said, "is to see that the knot in Perry's rope is artistically tied—and that's not appetizing."
"I've got something new," Greenleaf contributed; "but you're right. We'll wait until after dinner."
They were greatly pleased with what they had accomplished; and each one, without giving it voice, knew the other's pleasure was increased by the thought that they had got the better of Braceway.
They saw from the porch that an automobile was standing in front of No. 5. As they settled back in their chairs, Fulton and George Withers left the bungalow and got into the machine.
"They're going to take the body to Atlanta on the four o'clock," said Greenleaf.
For a moment they watched the receding automobile. Then Bristow inquired, "What's the new thing you've dug up?"
"The report from the Charlotte laboratories."
"Oh, you got that—by wire?"
The lame man seemed indifferent about it.
"Yes; by wire," Greenleaf paused, as if he enjoyed whetting the other's curiosity.
Bristow made no comment. He gave the impression of being confident that the report could contain nothing of value.
"You ain't very anxious to know what it is," the chief complained. "I nearly had a fit until it came."
"Oh, it doesn't matter much, one way or the other," Bristow said, conscious of Greenleaf's petulance. "The thing's settled anyway."
"That may be true; but it don't do any harm to get everything we can. The laboratory reported what you thought they'd report. Nothing under Miss Fulton's nails; particles of a white person's skin, epidermis, under Perry's."
Bristow laughed pleasantly, his eyes suddenly more alight.
"I beg your pardon, chief; I was having a little fun with you—by pretending indifference. But it's great—better than I'd really dared expect. It's the only direct, first-hand evidence we can offer showing that the negro, beyond any dispute, did attack her."
He laughed again. "Let's see the wire."
"I guess it settles the whole business," Greenleaf exulted, passing him the telegram.
He read it and handed it back.
"After that," he commented, "I'm almost tempted to throw away what I had to show you; its importance dwindles."
"What is it?"
"A confession by Lucy Thomas that Perry went to Number Five the night, rather the morning, of the murder."
"You got that—from her!" exclaimed Greenleaf.
"Yes—signed."
"Mr. Bristow, you're a wonder! By cripes, you are! My men couldn't get anything out of her. Neither could I."
"Here it is. I wrote out her story and read it back to her, and she signed it."
Greenleaf took the paper and read it:
"I know Perry Carpenter went to Mrs. Withers' house Monday night. He and I had been drinking together, and I was nearly drunk, but he was only about half-drunk. He told me he knew where he could get a lot of money, or 'something just as good as money,' because he had seen 'that white woman' with it. He and I had a fight because he wanted me to give him the key to Mrs. Withers' house, to her kitchen door.
"He broke the ribbon on which I used to hang the key around my neck, and he went out. That was pretty late in the night. Before daylight, he came back and flung the key on the floor, and he cursed me and hit me.