The Complete Detective Pennington Wise Series. Carolyn Wells

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      “Without doubt,” said Rudolph Braye, but Eve Carnforth looked a denial.

      “I can’t agree,” she said, “that the discovery of a secret entrance disproves all possibility of the presence of supernatural agencies. I think no human intruder can be held responsible for all we have been through. How do you account for two deaths occurring at the very moment they were foretold?”

      Her question was evidently addressed to Wise, and he replied, “I think, Miss Carnforth, that those two deaths were murders, cleverly accomplished by human wills, and it is my immediate duty to prove this. Therefore, I am now going to endeavour to recover the missing body of the unfortunate girl who was killed.”

      “What! Vernie’s body!” and Eve gasped.

      “Yes. And not wishing to do anything to which you may not all agree, I announce frankly that I am going to have the lake dragged.”

      “The lake!” cried Wynne Landon, “why, man, it is miles long!”

      “But I think that the same person who tried to drown Zizi is responsible for the disappearance of Miss Reid’s body, and I feel sure that if we look in that same part of the lake we will find what we are after.”

      “Incredible!” exclaimed Landon. “You will only waste your time!”

      Wise looked closely at the face of the speaker, and then turned quickly to observe another face.

      “At any rate, it can do no harm to try,” he said, finally.

      “Not at all,” said Braye; “go ahead. But even the recovery of Vernie’s body, will get us no nearer to her murderer. I wish I had been here at the time of those deaths. While I cannot feel I should have been of any help, I do think I could have noticed something or formed some opinion or conclusion from the circumstances.”

      “No, Rudolph,” said the Professor. “There was nothing to be seen or deduced from anything that happened at that time. I was nearest to Mr. Bruce, Miss Carnforth was nearest to Vernie. Neither of us saw anything suspicious or of unexplainable intent.”

      “And yet Mr. Bruce was poisoned,” said Wise, glancing from one face to another. “And I feel positive Miss Reid was also poisoned. She must have been. What else could have killed her, like that?”

      “True enough,” and Braye nodded his head. “But do you think an examination of her body, after all this time, could prove that?”

      “Whether it could or not,” said Wise, “we want to recover the body if possible. My theory is that it must have been thrown in the lake. If it was taken away through the revolving column, what else could have been done with it? To bury it would have been to risk discovery. And Zizi’s experience——”

      “Are you sure, Mr. Wise, that Zizi’s experience was truthfully related? May she not have been hysterically nervous, and imagined the whole thing? I’ve heard of such cases.”

      “Who put you up to that idea, Miss Carnforth?” said Wise, very quietly, and Eve flushed and turned aside, remaining silent.

      Pennington Wise’s theory proved the true one.

      The men employed to drag the lake at Black Aspens succeeded in finding the body of Vernie Reid. A bag of bricks had been tied to the ankles, in the same manner as described by Zizi, and the little form had been sunk in almost the same place that Zizi had been flung into the water.

      Reverent hands carried the body to the house, and later it was examined by a skilled physician from New York City.

      He reported that death had ensued upon the girl’s arm being scratched with some sharp implement, which had been previously dipped in a powerful poison.

      As this was the same physician who had passed the final judgment on the cause of Mr. Bruce’s death, his report was listened to with confidence and belief.

      “You must know,” he said, to the awed group, “that about last March, a plot was formed against some high officials in England. These diabolical plans included the use of extremely poisonous drugs. By a most culpable oversight the names and descriptions of these poisons crept into the public press, and since then, several attempts at their use have been made, mostly, I am glad to say, without result.

      “But, it is clear to me, that the murderer of these two people, Mr. Bruce, and the child, Vernie Reid, used the poisons I have told you of.”

      “I read about them,” said Pennington Wise. “They included a rare drug only to be obtained from South America.”

      “That was the statement,” said the doctor, “but I’m credibly informed there is a supply secretly hoarded in this country. However that may be, I am convinced that was the means used in Miss Reid’s case. This poison must be introduced under the skin, by means of a cut or scratch, whereupon, the effect is instantaneously fatal. Twenty seconds is said to be the extreme length of time for life to remain in a body after the introduction of the venom. There is a distinct scratch on Miss Reid’s upper right arm, so inflamed and poisoned as to leave no doubt in the matter.”

      “That’s why the body was removed,” said the Professor, “lest that scratch be discovered.”

      “Yes,” agreed Wise, “and the other victim, Mr. Bruce, was killed by having the poison introduced into his stomach.”

      “That was a different poison,” said the doctor. “That was strychnine hydrochlorate, which acts with equal speed. The evidential point is, that these two poisons were both plotted to be used in the case I mentioned in England, which, however, was foiled before it was actually attempted. The grave wrong, was the account in the newspapers, which was so circumstantial and definite as to give information to whoever cared to use it. Can any one doubt that the villain in this case, read the article I speak of, which was in several of our American papers, and made use of his ill-gotten directions to achieve his purpose?”

      “How did it get into Mr. Bruce’s stomach?” demanded Braye.

      “It was secretly placed in his tea or in the cake he was eating,” declared the doctor. “Don’t ask me how,—or who did it. That is not my province. But whoever could plan these fearsome deeds, could find an ingenious method of carrying out his plans,—of that I’m sure.”

      “I wish I’d been present,” said Braye, again, as he sighed deeply.

Chapter XVIII.

       Another Confession

       Table of Contents

      Pennington Wise and Zizi sat in the hall talking. It was part of Wise’s policy never to hold secret conclaves with his little assistant, for, he said that the people who employed him were entitled to all his suspicions or deductions as they took shape and grew in his mind. Professor Hardwick joined them as Wise was saying, “What first turned your attention to the Room with the Tassels, Ziz? Why did you move into that room to sleep?”

      “Because the lock was oiled,” Zizi replied, her black eyes glistening. “The first time I got a chance I looked at all the locks in the house, and only two were freshly oiled, and they had СКАЧАТЬ