The Curved Blades

Stone went to the window. Yes, that matter was easy enough. A balcony outside the long French window was connected with the lower verandah by a spiral staircase. Any one could run up the steps and be admitted to the boudoir in perfect secrecy. Stone wondered for a moment why Bates hadn’t entered that way, and quickly realized that for a marauder to appear at the window would have frightened Miss Carrington and caused an outcry. The entrance of the Count, however, whether expected or not, would be easily effected.

If the Count were really guilty, the circumstances were all explicable. Suppose Miss Carrington had made the appointment. Would she not, in her vanity, have donned the beautiful boudoir gown and the jewels to appear attractive in his eyes? And, supposing she had playfully caught his glove as he removed it, and had half-unconsciously continued to hold it. Then the conversation alleged to have been overheard by Miss Frayne would have been addressed to him, and the remarks would be, at least, intelligible.

The snake? Ah, yes, the snake. As to that there was no hint, no clue of any sort. But then, the thing was so inexplicable, that the explanation must be easy. A clue so strange, so bizarre, must lead somewhere. That could be left to the future. Now, he must decide on his first steps.

The decision took him to call on Doctor Stanton, and the physician welcomed him warmly.

“Glad to see you, Mr. Stone,” he said; “sit down, sir, sit down. I’ve been wanting a talk with you ever since I heard of your arrival. So you’ve ferreted out the burglar already! Great work, great work indeed! And now for the real murderer. You see, sir, I’m up to the minute in my information regarding this case.”

“Glad to know it,” returned Stone. “Now, Doctor Stanton, I hope you can help me. I don’t mind admitting the thing has its baffling aspects. The burglar was easily traced, and easily disposed of. The real work, as you say, is just beginning. Will you, sir, tell me all you know of the poison that killed Miss Carrington?”

“Surely, Mr. Stone. The autopsy showed a fatal dose of aconitine. Aconite, as you of course know, is the herb, wolfsbane, of the Hellebore tribe, all the species of which are poisonous. Aconitine is an intensely poisonous alkaloid obtained from aconite. Taken in a moderate quantity, it acts as a powerful sedative, but the dose absorbed by Miss Carrington was undoubtedly fatal within half or three-quarters of an hour.”

“And she died at what time?”

“About two o’clock.”

“Proving she took the poison at about quarter or half after one.”

“Yes; thereabouts. It is not possible to fix these hours precisely, but the poison was administered positively between one and two.”

“Administered? You do not think then, that she took it herself?”

“Most certainly not! Miss Carrington has been in my care, professionally, for many years. I knew her very well, and I know nobody more opposed to medicine in any form or drugs of any sort. It was a most difficult task to persuade her to take even the simplest remedy, and then she had to be assured over and over again that it was harmless. No, Mr. Stone, nothing could have made her take that dose of her own accord, nor could any one have persuaded her to take it, consciously. It was, without doubt, given to her secretly, by the clever ruse of the murderer. Of course it could not have been an accident. The marvelous part is, to my mind, how any one secured the poison. It is not an easy matter to buy aconitine.”

“Then that ought to make it easier to trace. If the public could easily procure it at will, there would be greater difficulty in running down the purchaser.”

“That is so; and yet, I think your search will be a hard one. How shall you go about it?”

“By canvassing the drug shops of the city, and of the small towns as well.”

“It may be you can trace the sale. But if it was bought under promise of secrecy, and if that secrecy were well paid for – ?”

“True, there is the difficulty. But what’s a detective for if not to find out secrets?”

“Quite right. May your quest succeed.”

“And now, a little more about the action of this poison. What are the immediate effects of a fatal dose?”

“In a few moments there occurs a tingling numbness of lip and tongue and pharynx. The numbness increases and affects all the muscles and death ensues inside of an hour. This paralyzing effect renders it impossible for the victim to cry out, and there are no convulsions. The body remains calm and undisturbed, and the eyes open. A dilatation of the pupil takes place, but the expression on the face remains as in life. This is why Miss Carrington continued to look happy and smiling – ”

“And proves that when she took the poison she was happy and smiling, and therefore in no way terrorized or frightened into it.”

“Exactly so. And that indicates that she didn’t know she was taking it, – ”

“Or, that it was administered by some one she knew and loved and had all confidence in.”

“It would seem so,” and Doctor Stanton’s fine old face showed a sad apprehension.

“How was it taken, – in what medium?”

“That we can’t tell to a certainty. There were traces of the sandwiches discovered at the autopsy, but, though the poison could have been given her, concealed in a sandwich filling, it is improbable.”

“Why?”

“Because the white granules or powder, which are soluble in water, would be more easily discerned in solid food.”

“But, on the other hand, it could be unostentatiously placed in a sandwich, with little fear of detection; but to prevail on her to swallow a solution, – it is bitter, is it not?”

“Yes, slightly so. I admit, I cannot imagine any one inducing Miss Carrington to swallow such a draught. Therefore, it may well be, it was placed in a sandwich. The filling, they tell me, was caviare, which would disguise the bitterness.”

“And does not all this, if true, point to some one exceedingly familiar with all the details of Miss Carrington’s affairs? Some one who knew of her nightly sandwich? And, also, does it not imply the presence of some one who could and did insure her consumption of that sandwich?”

“It would indeed seem so, Mr. Stone; but when it comes to discussing such a question as that, I must ask to be allowed to retire from the field. It is my duty to tell all I know, from my medical experience, but further than that I am not obliged to express any opinions or voice any suspicions.”

“You know, however, that Count Charlier is held pending investigation?”

“Yes, I know it. I have no opinion to express.”

Fleming Stone rather admired this gentleman of the old school, whose courtesy was evident, but equally so his determination to say only what justice demanded of his profession.

And then, like a flash, the reason came to him. Doctor Stanton suspected, or at least feared to suspect some member of the Carrington household.

Of course, this was not a new idea to Fleming Stone. He had mentally gone over the possibility of every one in the family and all of the servants at Garden Steps, but so far he had held his mind open for impressions rather than to formulate theories himself.

“Then, to sum up, doctor,” he said, as he rose to go, “you assure me that you consider it out of the question that Miss Carrington took the aconitine herself, say, as a headache cure, or something, intending only a small curative dose?”

“Absolutely impossible, sir,” exclaimed the old gentleman, almost angrily; “to begin with, Miss Carrington never had headaches, and if she had she would have borne any amount of suffering from them before she would have touched a drug or a medicinal remedy of any sort. And, aside from all that, how could she get aconitine? It is not to be bought for the asking at any druggist’s! No, sir, my conscience makes me insist on that point, Miss Carrington never took that poison knowingly, – either by accident or design. It was given to her, without her knowledge, by a very, very clever villain.”

“Again, then, could it have been given her innocently, by mistake? I mean, if some one, her maid, or any friend, had wanted to give her a sedative, and meant only a light dose, but by error in quantity – ”

“No, sir! Not a chance! The amount given was too great to be an error. And every one in that house knows better than ever to have attempted to give medicine in any form or degree or for any purpose to Miss Lucy Carrington.”

“It was crime, then,” said Fleming Stone, “black crime. And as such, it must be discovered and punished.”

“Yes,” agreed Doctor Stanton, but he spoke with deep sadness and as one who feared where or toward whom such discoveries might lead.

From the doctor’s house Stone went to see the Count.

That elegant gentleman was highly irate at being detained against his will in such plain quarters as The Tombs furnished, but he was not as belligerent or vindictive as Stone expected to find him.

Hasty work on the part of the detectives from the District Attorney’s office had resulted in his imprisonment, but the later development of Bates’ share in the matter made it extremely probable that the Count might soon be released from custody.

Pleasantly enough the two men conversed, and Count Charlier gave the impression of one glad of help from an outside source.

“It is such absurdity,” he declared, “to think I would in any way wish harm to the lady. Why, I admired her above all, and it was my hope that she would do me the honor to accept my hand.”

“Honestly, Count Charlier?” and Stone looked at him with a man-to-man glance that caused the Count to hesitate in his protestations.

“Well, I was considering the matter in my own mind. You know, Mr. Stone, it is a great responsibility, this seeking a wife. And Miss Carrington was not – not in her first youth. Of a fact, her years outnumbered my own. So, I asked myself was it wise, was it altogether just to the lady to – ”

“Never mind all that, Count,” said Stone, a little impatiently, “just give me a few details of that evening, so far as your actions were concerned. You were at the house till midnight?”

“Yes, Mr. Illsley and I left together. We had spent the evening there at cards and music.”

“You had had any private conversation with Miss Carrington during the evening?”

“Yes, we walked alone in the conservatory for a time, – ”

“You proposed marriage?”

“Not exactly that, – but I may have hinted at such an event.”

“And the lady seemed agreeable?”

“Entirely so. If I may say it, she met my advances half-way, and I could not misunderstand her feeling toward my unworthy self.”

“She spoke to you of money matters? Of her will?”

“Yes, to my surprise, she told me she had bequeathed to me ten thousand dollars.”

“Was not this a strange bequest to a casual acquaintance?”

“Oh, we were more than casual acquaintances. I have known Miss Carrington for two or three months.”

“Which? two or three?”

“Perhaps nearer two,” and the Count showed a slight embarrassment.

“Do your friends often leave you large sums of money on such short acquaintance?”

“It has never happened before,” and now the Count’s dignity was touched and he spoke shortly and coolly.

“Then, of course, it struck you as peculiar,” and Stone’s smile assumed an acquiescence.

But the Count returned: “Not at all. Miss Carrington was an unusual woman, and I never expected her behavior to be entirely conventional. When she told me of this I was simply and honestly grateful, as I should have been to any one who showed me such a kindness.”

“You were glad to get the money, then?”

“Yes, indeed!” the Count exclaimed, with sparkling eyes, then realizing his slip, he hastily added: “that is, I was glad of the knowledge that it would come to me some day. Surely I did not want the lady to die, that I might receive it, but I was pleased to know she thought enough of me to make the direction.”

“What did she mean by saying ‘To-morrow all will be different’?”

“That I do not know. Could she have meant – ”

“She did say it, then? You admit she said it to you?”

Breathlessly, Fleming Stone waited the answer. Miss Carrington had said this to the person who was with her behind her closed door at one o’clock! Could the Count be going to incriminate himself?

“Not to me only. She said it to all who were present. It was while we were playing bridge.”

“She said it again to the man who killed her!”

“Of that I know nothing,” said Count Charlier, politely.

“Bother!” said Fleming Stone, inaudibly.

XV

PAULINE’S PURCHASE

Alone, Fleming Stone wrestled with the problem of the giving of that poison.

The library at Garden Steps had been turned over to him for a study and no one entered the room unless summoned. Stone sat at the mahogany table-desk, but his eyes rested unseeingly on the beautiful fittings of polished silver and glass. On a memorandum block he wrote down the names of possible and probable suspects. To be sure, he thought, every one in the house might be deemed possible, as well as some who were not in the house. But each one must be taken into consideration.

To begin with the most important, Miss Stuart. It was possible that she poisoned her aunt, but so improbable as to make it exceedingly unlikely. True, she was heir to half the fortune, but well-bred, well-nurtured young women do not commit crime to inherit their money sooner. Except for that conversation reported by Anita Frayne, there was not a shred of evidence against Miss Stuart. And Stone did not place implicit confidence in that story of the talk behind closed doors. He had discovered that the two girls were not friendly and he knew Anita capable of making up or coloring a tale to suit herself. Pauline had told him that she was in the hall-window-seat at one o’clock that night and had seen Anita coming from Miss Carrington’s room. Or, to put it more carefully, she had seen her with her hand on the door-knob, in the act of closing the door after her. This Pauline had told to Stone, with an air of such verity and truthfulness that he was fain to believe her. However, in all honesty, he had to admit to himself, that Miss Stuart could have given the poison in some secret way, had she so desired. The same was true, though, of Miss Frayne, of Haviland and of the various house-servants. But where could any of them get it?

Again there were the Count and Mrs. Frothingham to be considered. In fact, there were too many suspects to decide among, without further evidence.

“Any luck?” Stone asked of Hardy, who came in to report.

“No, Mr. Stone. I’ve raked the drug shops thoroughly, and there’s no trace of a sale of aconitine. It’s practically impossible to buy such a substance. I mean, for the ordinary customer.”

“Yet somebody did.”

“I suppose so. But doesn’t it limit the field of search to realize that it couldn’t have been a servant or either of the young ladies?”

“Why neither of the young ladies?”

“But how could they get it?”

“Why not as well as any one else? And somebody did.”

“Then somebody stole it. Nobody bought it. I’m positive of that, now I’ve learned how impossible it is to make such a purchase. And how could those girls steal it?”

“I don’t know, Hardy, but my point is, why couldn’t they steal it if anybody could? You’re denying their ability to steal the poison, because you don’t want to suspect them. And neither do I, but we must look this thing squarely in the face. Somebody managed to get that aconitine and administer it to Miss Carrington secretly, and it is for us to find out who did it, – who could do it, in the face of almost insuperable obstacles. But it is futile to say this one or that one could or couldn’t do it. Now, since you’ve found no trace of the poison sale, let’s start from some other point. Surely, this case, with its unique circumstances, offers many ways to look for evidence. What strikes me most forcibly is the costume of the lady. Not so much the gown, – I believe she was fond of elaborate boudoir robes, – but the array of jewelry, the glittering scarf and the snake. Most of all, the snake. That, of itself, ought to point directly to the true solution, and I believe it does, only we’re too blind to see it. I’m going to work on that snake clue, and to help, I wish you’d go at once to all the possible shops where it might have been bought. It may not be traceable and then, again, it may. And, the strange fact of her sitting idly before the mirror when she died! Whoever gave her the poison was there on the spot, must have been, – for it’s sure enough that she didn’t take it herself, according to the doctor’s statements. Well, if the murderer was right there with her, and she not only made no outcry but continued to look smiling and happy, it was surely some one she knew and in whom she had all confidence. Perhaps this person urged her to eat the sandwich, – oh, pshaw, that’s all plausible enough, – but, the snake! That’s the bizarre clue that must lead somewhere. And it shall! I’ll ferret out the mystery of that paper snake or my name’s not Stone! Go to it, Hardy! Rake the Japanese shops and department stores, but find out who bought it. It isn’t old. I observed it was fresh and new. Those flimsy paper things show handling mighty quickly. Find out who bought the thing, and we’ve a start in the right direction.”

Hardy went off on his errand and Stone went over to have a talk with Mrs. Frothingham.

The widow was amiable but non-committal. She was highly incensed at the arrest of the Count, but felt confident he would be liberated in a few days. She replied warily to Stone’s questions, but admitted her presence in the house on the fatal evening.

“You see,” she said, in a confidential way, “I was lonely. The Count had gone so often of late to Garden Steps, and I was never invited, that I think I was a little jealous.”

“Of Miss Carrington?” asked Stone, quickly.

“Yes,” said Mrs. Frothingham, frankly; “and of Miss Stuart, and of the Count’s intimacy over there. I had never even been in the house. So I went over there and looked in the windows. I saw them playing cards and later strolling about the rooms. The great door stood a little ajar and I cautiously stepped inside. It was vulgarly curious, but it was no crime. As I stood in the hall I saw some one approaching, and stepped up a few steps of the staircase. It was all so beautiful that I looked at the tapestries and decorations. I remember thinking that if any one challenged me, I should tell the truth, and say that I came in to look, as a neighbor ought to have a right to do.”

“Never mind the ethics of the case, Mrs. Frothingham, stick to facts. Did you go upstairs?”

“No, indeed, only up four or five steps, just to the turn of the staircase.”

“But Mr. Illsley saw you coming down.”

“Only those few steps. He couldn’t have seen me coming from the top of the stair, for I didn’t go up so far.”

“You spoke of being jealous of Miss Stuart. Why?”

“Because Count Charlier is in love with her.”

“With Miss Stuart?”

“Yes; he was making up to Miss Carrington for her money, but he is really in love with Miss Stuart.”

Mrs. Frothingham shook her head doggedly, as if determined to tell this, even though it should redound to the Count’s discredit. And it did.

“Then,” said Fleming Stone, “that adds motive to the theory of the Count’s guilt. If he is in love with Miss Stuart, might he not have been tempted to put Miss Carrington out of the way, that Miss Stuart should inherit the fortune, and be the bride of his choice?”

“Indeed, yes, that is a possibility,” and Fleming Stone saw at last, that this woman either suspected the Count’s guilt or wished to make it appear so.

Again, the sudden thought struck him, suppose she was so jealous of the Count’s attentions to Miss Carrington, that she went to Garden Steps with the intent of killing the lady. Suppose she did go upstairs, although she denied it, and put the poison in the sandwich. Surely, she had opportunity. Surely, she would now deny it.

Fleming Stone sighed. He hated a case where the principal witnesses were women. One never could tell when they were lying. A man, now, was much more transparent and his evidence more easily weighed.

However, if this woman desired to turn suspicion toward Count Charlier, it was either because she suspected him, or was implicated herself. In either case, her word was not worth much, and Stone soon took his leave to hunt a more promising field.

Returning to Garden Steps, he found that Pauline had received a letter from her cousin in Egypt.

“I am afraid,” she said, as she handed Stone the letter to read, “that my cousin Carr will think we are not accomplishing much. Read the letter, Mr. Stone, and if you say so, I will ask Mr. Loria to come home.”

Glad to read the letter from this half heir to the Carrington fortune, Stone took the sheet. It ran:

Dear Polly:

The awful shock of Aunt Lucy’s death leaves me without words to tell you what I feel for you in your dark hours. What can I say in the face of such a horror? I wish I were there with you to help you bear it all. For on you comes the brunt of the publicity and all the harrowing details that must be attended to. If you say so, I will return to America at once. But unless I can be of definite assistance or real comfort to you, personally, I would rather not go over just now. I’m just starting on a wonderful piece of work here. No less than excavating – but I won’t take time to tell of it now. I’ll write you about it later, if I don’t go to you. This is a short note to catch the mail, and reach you as soon as possible. Remember, as I write, I have only your first two cables, and know nothing of details. I eagerly await your letters. Why don’t you follow out your plan of coming over here in February? Leave all business matters in Haviland’s hands, and get away from the scene of the tragedy. Of course, as I cabled Gray, get the best possible detective experts on the case. Spare no expense, and charge all to me. Surely, we want to find and punish the slayer of Aunt Lucy, and I repeat, if you, for any reason, want me to, I will come over at once. Cable, and I will take the next steamer. If you don’t do this, do write me long letters and tell me everything that is happening. Poor Aunt Lucy. I know your life with her wasn’t all a bed of roses, but I know how saddened you are now, and my heart goes out to you. Dear Polly, command me in any way. I am entirely at your service here or there. If you come over here, I advise Haviland to stay there and look after things. I know the bulk of Aunt Lucy’s fortune is divided between you and me, and I want Gray to see to all matters connected with my share. When he gets around to it, he can send me some money to further this work I am engaged on here. But let me know if you want me to come to you. With all loving sympathy and affection,

Carr.

Fleming Stone pondered over this letter. He had felt a certain curiosity concerning this absent cousin, who was heir to half the great fortune, and so would have had a possible motive for a crime that would secure his inheritance to him at once. But there was no possible way of connecting a man in Egypt with a deed committed in the victim’s boudoir. Vague thoughts of Loria’s employing somebody to do the deed for him formed themselves in Stone’s mind, but were soon dismissed as untenable. The man Bates could not be a tool of anybody, and beside, he didn’t kill the lady. The poison did that. The Count couldn’t be a tool of any one. He was too evidently his own master, and whether guilty or not, was entirely on his own initiative. Oh, the whole idea was absurd. The letter itself was sufficient exoneration for Loria. He was absorbed in his research work and though thoughtful enough of Pauline’s wishes, he was apparently not anxious to have his plans over there interrupted. He wrote like a good all round chap, and Fleming Stone could find no peg on which to hang a suspicion in his case.

“A good letter,” he commented, returning it to Pauline; “what’s your cousin like?”

“In looks? A little like me, but bigger and darker. He’s a fine-looking man, and a kind-hearted one. I shall advise him not to come home, for I know how interested he is in his work, and he can do no good here. Can he, Mr. Stone?”

“Frankly, Miss Stuart, I don’t see how he can. I may as well admit to you, the case seems to me a most baffling one. The assault with the black-jack is, of course, accounted for, but we have made no progress in the matter of discovering the poisoner. I feel that the solution of the mystery is closely connected with that paper snake. Can you give me any idea where the thing could have come from? Do you think Miss Carrington bought it herself?”