The Man Who Fell Through the Earth. Wells Carolyn

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СКАЧАТЬ to suspect him, – only, – he had got on, I remembered, at the seventh floor, and his office was on the tenth. This didn’t seem terribly incriminating, I had to admit, but I made a note of it, and determined to look Mr. Rodman up.

      My telephone bell rang, and with a passing wonder at being called up in such a storm, I responded.

      To my delight, it proved to be Miss Raynor speaking.

      “Forgive me for intruding, Mr. Brice,” she said, in that musical voice of hers, “but I – I am so lonesome, – and there isn’t anyone I want to talk to.”

      “Talk to me, then, Miss Raynor,” I said, gladly. “Can I be of any service to you – in any way?”

      “Oh, I think so. I want to see you tomorrow. Can you come to see me?”

      “Yes, indeed. At what time?”

      “Come up in the morning, – that is, if it’s perfectly convenient for you.”

      “Certainly; in the morning, then. About ten?”

      “Yes, please. They – they brought Uncle home.”

      “Did they? I’m glad that was allowed. Are you alone?”

      “Yes; and I’m frightfully lonely and desolate. It’s such a terrible night I wouldn’t ask any of my friends to come to stay with me.”

      “You expected Mr. Manning to call, I thought.”

      “I did; but he hasn’t come. Of course, the reason is that it isn’t a fit night for anyone to go out. I telephoned his rooms, but he wasn’t in. So I don’t know what to think. I’d suppose he’d telephone even if he couldn’t get here.”

      “Traffic must be pretty nearly impossible,” I said, “it was awful going when I reached home soon after five, and now, there’s a young blizzard raging.”

      “Yes, I couldn’t expect him; and perhaps the telephone wires are affected.”

      “This one isn’t, at any rate, so chat with me as long as you will. You can get some friend to come to stay with you tomorrow, can’t you?”

      “Oh, yes; I could have got somebody tonight, but I hadn’t the heart to ask it. I’m all right, Mr. Brice, I’m not a very nervous person, – only, it is sort of awful. Our housekeeper is a nice old thing, but she’s nearly in hysterics and I sent her to bed. I’ll say good-by now, and I’ll be glad to see you tomorrow.”

      CHAPTER V

      Olive Raynor

      I did see Miss Olive Raynor the next day, but not in the surroundings of her own home as I had expected.

      For I received a rather peremptory summons to present myself at police headquarters at a shockingly early hour, and not long after my arrival there, Miss Raynor appeared also.

      The police had spent a busy night, and had unearthed more or less evidence and had collected quite a cloud of witnesses.

      Chief of Police Martin conducted the inquiry, and I soon found that my story was considered of utmost importance, and that I was expected to relate it to the minutest details.

      This I did, patiently answering repeated questions and asseverating facts.

      But I could give no hint as to the identity, or even as to the appearance of the man who quarreled with Mr. Gately. I could, and did say that he seemed to be a burly figure, or, at least, the shadow showed a large frame and broad shoulders.

      “Had he a hat on?” asked the Chief.

      “No; and I should say he had either a large head or thick, bushy hair, for the shadow showed that much.”

      “Did you not see his face in profile?”

      “If so, it was only momentarily, and the clouded glass of the door, in irregular waves, entirely prevented a clear-cut profile view.”

      “And after the two men rose, they disappeared at once?”

      “They wrestled; – it seemed, I should say, that Mr. Gately was grabbed by the other man, and tried to make a getaway, whereupon the other man shot him.”

      “Are you quite sure, Mr. Brice,” and the Chief fixed me with his sharp blue eye, “that you are not reconstructing this affair in the light of the later discovery of Mr. Gately’s fate?”

      I thought this over carefully before replying, and then said: “It’s quite possible I may have unconsciously done so. But I distinctly saw the two figures come together in a desperate struggle, then disappear, doubtless into the third room, and then I heard the shot. That is all I can state positively.”

      “You, then, went right across the hall and tried to enter?”

      “Yes; tried to enter at the middle door, where I had seen the men.”

      “And next?”

      “Finding that door fastened, I tried the third, because the men had seemed to disappear in that direction.”

      “The third room was also locked?”

      “Yes; or at least the door would not open from the outside. Then I went back to the door number one.”

      “And that opened at once?”

      “Yes; had I tried that first, I should probably have seen the men, – or the girl, Jenny.”

      “Perhaps. Could you recognize the head of the visitor if you should see it again shadowed on the door?”

      “I am not sure, but I doubt if I could. I could tell if it were a very different type of head, but if merely similar, I could not swear it was the same man.”

      “H’m. We must make the experiment. At least it may give us a hint in the right direction.”

      He questioned me further as to my knowledge of Mr. Gately and his affairs, but when he found I knew almost nothing of those and had been a tenant of the Puritan Building but a very short time he suddenly lost interest in me and turned his attention to Miss Raynor.

      Olive Raynor had come alone and unattended. This surprised me, for I had imagined the young ladies of the higher social circles never went anywhere alone. But in many ways Miss Raynor evinced her independence and self-reliance, and I had no doubt a trusted chauffeur waited in her car outside.

      She was garbed in black, but it was not the heavy crape material that I supposed all women wore as mourning. A long black velvet cape swathed the slender figure in its voluminous folds, and as this was thrown back, I saw her gown was of black satin, with thinner black material used in combination. Women’s clothes, though a mystery to me, had a sort of fascination for my ignorant eyes, and I knew enough to appreciate that Miss Raynor’s costume was correct and very smart.

      Her hat was black, too, smaller than the one I saw her in the day before, and of a quieter type.

      Altogether, she looked very lovely, and her sweet, flower-like face, with its big, pathetic brown eyes, was raised frankly to Chief Martin as she answered his questions in a low, clear voice. A slight pallor told of a night of wakefulness and sorrow, but this СКАЧАТЬ