The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

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      “A woman’s hand?”

      “No; a man’s. I saw the white cuff.”

      “And how long was it before they called you?”

      “Fifteen minutes, I should say. I heard a voice cry ‘Here!’ and seeing their door open, I went toward it. But by the time I reached it, it was shut again, and I only heard the lady say that all the articles but the shoes were satisfactory, and would I thrust the bill in under the door. I did so, and they were some minutes counting out the change, but presently the door opened slightly, and I saw a man’s hand holding out the money, which was correct to the cent. ‘You need not receipt the bill,’ cried the lady from somewhere in the room. ‘Give him the shoes and let him go.’ So I received the shoes in the same mysterious way I had the money, and seeing no reason for waiting longer, pocketed the bills and returned to the store.”

      “Has the jury any further questions to ask the witness?”

      Of course not. They were ninnies, all of them, and——But, contrary to my expectation, one of them did perk up courage, and, wriggling very much on his seat, ventured to ask if the cuff he had seen on the man’s hand when it was thrust through the doorway had a button in it.

      The answer was disappointing. The witness had not noticed any.

      The juror, somewhat abashed, sank into silence, at which another of the precious twelve, inspired no doubt by the other’s example, blurted out:

      “Then what was the color of the coat sleeve? You surely can remember that.”

      But another disappointment awaited us.

      “He did not wear any coat. It was a shirt sleeve I saw.”

      A shirt sleeve! There was no clue in that. A visible look of dejection spread through the room, which was not dissipated till another witness stood up.

      This time it was the bell-boy of the hotel who had been on duty that day. His testimony was brief, and added but little to the general knowledge. He had been summoned more than once by these mysterious parties, but only to receive his orders through a closed door. He had not entered the room at all.

      He was followed by the chambermaid, who testified that she was in the room once while they were there; that she saw them both then, but did not catch a glimpse of their faces; Mr. Pope was standing in the window almost entirely shielded by the curtains, and Mrs. Pope was busy hanging up something in the wardrobe. The gentleman had on his duster and the lady her gossamer; it was but a few minutes after their arrival.

      Questioned in regard to the state of the room after they left it, she said that there was a lot of brown paper lying about, marked B. Altman, but nothing else that did not belong there.

      “Not a tag, nor a hat-pin, nor a bit of memorandum, lying on bureau or table?”

      “Nothing, sir, so far as I mind. I wasn’t on the look-out for anything, sir. They were a queer couple, but we have lots of queer couples at our house, and the most I notices, sir, is those what remember the chambermaid and those what don’t. This couple was of the kind what don’t.”

      “Did you sweep the room after their departure?”

      “I always does. They went late, so I swept the room the next morning.”

      “And threw the sweepings away, of course?”

      “Of course; would you have me keep them for treasures?”

      “It might have been well if you had,” muttered the Coroner. “The combings from the lady’s hair might have been very useful in establishing her identity.”

      The porter who has charge of the lady’s entrance was the last witness from this house. He had been on duty on the evening in question and had noticed this couple leaving. They both carried packages, and had attracted his attention first, by the long, old-fashioned duster which the gentleman wore, and secondly, by the pains they both took not to be observed by any one. The woman was veiled, as had already been said, and the man held his package in such a way as to shield his face entirely from observation.

      “So that you would not know him if you saw him again?” asked the Coroner.

      “Exactly, sir,” was the uncomprising answer.

      As he sat down, the Coroner observed: “You will note from this testimony, gentlemen, that this couple, signing themselves Mr. and Mrs. James Pope of Philadelphia, left this house dressed each in a long garment eminently fitted for purposes of concealment,—he in a linen duster, and she in a gossamer. Let us now follow this couple a little farther and see what became of these disguising articles of apparel. Is Seth Brown here?”

      A man, who was so evidently a hackman that it seemed superfluous to ask him what his occupation was, shuffled forward at this.

      It was in his hack that this couple had left the D——. He remembered them very well as he had good reason to. First, because the man paid him before entering the carriage, saying that he was to let them out at the northwest corner of Madison Square, and secondly——But here the Coroner interrupted him to ask if he had seen the gentleman’s face when he paid him. The answer was, as might have been expected, No. It was dark, and he had not turned his head.

      “Didn’t you think it queer to be paid before you reached your destination?”

      “Yes, but the rest was queerer. After I had taken the money—I never refuses money, sir—and was expecting him to get into the hack, he steps up to me again and says in a lower tone than before: ‘My wife is very nervous. Drive slow, if you please, and when you reach the place I have named, watch your horses carefully, for if they should move while she is getting out, the shock would throw her into a spasm.’ As she had looked very pert and lively, I thought this mighty queer, and I tried to get a peep at his face, but he was too smart for me, and was in the carriage before I could clap my eye on him.”

      “But you were more fortunate when they got out? You surely saw one or both of them then?”

      “No, sir, I didn’t. I had to watch the horses’ heads, you know. I shouldn’t like to be the cause of a young lady having a spasm.”

      “Do you know in what direction they went?”

      “East, I should say. I heard them laughing long after I had whipped up my horses. A queer couple, sir, that puzzled me some, though I should not have thought of them twice if I had not found next day——”

      “Well?”

      “The gentleman’s linen duster and the neat brown gossamer which the lady had worn, lying folded under the two back cushions of my hack; a present for which I was very much obliged to them, but which I was not long allowed to enjoy, for yesterday the police——”

      “Well, well, no matter about that. Here is a duster and here is a brown gossamer. Are these the articles you found under your cushions?”

      “If you will examine the neck of the lady’s gossamer, you can soon tell, sir. There was a small hole in the one I found, as if something had been snipped out of it; the owner’s name, most likely.”

      “Or the name of the place where СКАЧАТЬ