The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

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СКАЧАТЬ down, but I found this impossible. Side by side with the detective, I viewed the replacing of that heavy piece of furniture against the wall, and the slow disclosure of the upper part of the body which had so long lain hidden.

      That I did not give way is a proof that my father’s prophecy was not without some reasonable foundation; for the sight was one to try the stoutest nerves, as well as to awaken the compassion of the hardest heart.

      The Coroner, meeting my eye, pointed at the poor creature inquiringly.

      “Is this the woman you saw enter here last night?”

      I glanced down at her dress, noted the short summer cape tied to the neck with an elaborate bow of ribbon, and nodded my head.

      “I remember the cape,” said I. “But where is her hat? She wore one. Let me see if I can describe it.” Closing my eyes I endeavored to recall the dim silhouette of her figure as she stood passing up the change to the driver; and was so far successful that I was ready to announce at the next moment that her hat presented the effect of a soft felt with one feather or one bow of ribbon standing upright from the side of the crown.

      “Then the identity of this woman with the one you saw enter here last night is established,” remarked the detective, stooping down and drawing from under the poor girl’s body a hat, sufficiently like the one I had just described, to satisfy everybody that it was the same.

      “As if there could be any doubt,” I began.

      But the Coroner, explaining that it was a mere formality, motioned me to stand aside in favor of the doctor, who seemed anxious to approach nearer the spot where the dead woman lay. This I was about to do when a sudden thought struck me, and I reached out my hand for the hat.

      “Let me look at it for a moment,” said I.

      Mr. Gryce at once handed it over, and I took a good look at it inside and out.

      “It is pretty badly crushed,” I observed, “and does not present a very fresh appearance, but for all that it has been worn but once.”

      “How do you know?” questioned the Coroner.

      “Let the other Richmond inform you,” was my grimly uttered reply, as I gave it again into the detective’s hand.

      There was a murmur about me, whether of amusement or displeasure, I made no effort to decide. I was finding out something for myself, and I did not care what they thought of me.

      “Neither has she worn this dress long,” I continued; “but that is not true of the shoes. They are not old, but they have been acquainted with the pavement, and that is more than can be said of the hem of this gown. There are no gloves on her hands; a few minutes elapsed then before the assault; long enough for her to take them off.”

      “Smart woman!” whispered a voice in my ear; a half-admiring, half-sarcastic voice that I had no difficulty in ascribing to Mr. Gryce. “But are you sure she wore any? Did you notice that her hand was gloved when she came into the house?”

      “No,” I answered, frankly; “but so well-dressed a woman would not enter a house like this, without gloves.”

      “It was a warm night,” some one suggested.

      “I don’t care. You will find her gloves as you have her hat; and you will find them with the fingers turned inside out, just as she drew them from her hand. So much I will concede to the warmth of the weather.”

      “Like these, for instance,” broke in a quiet voice.

      Startled, for a hand had appeared over my shoulder dangling a pair of gloves before my eyes, I cried out, somewhat too triumphantly I own:

      “Yes, yes, just like those! Did you pick them up here? Are they hers?”

      “You say that this is the way hers should look.”

      “And I repeat it.”

      “Then allow me to pay you my compliments. These were picked up here.”

      “But where?” I cried. “I thought I had looked this carpet well over.”

      He smiled, not at me but at the gloves, and the thought crossed me that he felt as if something more than the gloves was being turned inside out. I therefore pursed my mouth, and determined to stand more on my guard.

      “It is of no consequence,” I assured him; “all such matters will come out at the inquest.”

      Mr. Gryce nodded, and put the gloves back in his pocket. With them he seemed to pocket some of his geniality and patience.

      “All these facts have been gone over before you came in,” said he, which statement I beg to consider as open to doubt.

      The doctor, who had hardly moved a muscle during all this colloquy, now rose from his kneeling position beside the girl’s head.

      “I shall have to ask the presence of another physician,” said he. “Will you send for one from your office, Coroner Dahl?”

      At which I stepped back and the Coroner stepped forward, saying, however, as he passed me:

      “The inquest will be held day after to-morrow in my office. Hold yourself in readiness to be present. I regard you as one of my chief witnesses.”

      I assured him I would be on hand, and, obeying a gesture of his finger, retreated from the room; but I did not yet leave the house. A straight, slim man, with a very small head but a very bright eye, was leaning on the newel-post in the front hall, and when he saw me, started up so alertly I perceived that he had business with me, and so waited for him to speak.

      “You are Miss Butterworth?” he inquired.

      “I am, sir.”

      “And I am a reporter from the New York World. Will you allow me——”

      Why did he stop? I had merely looked at him. But he did stop, and that is saying considerable for a reporter from the New York World.

      “I certainly am willing to tell you what I have told every one else,” I interposed, considering it better not to make an enemy of so judicious a young man; and seeing him brighten up at this, I thereupon related all I considered desirable for the general public to know.

      I was about passing on, when, reflecting that one good turn deserves another, I paused and asked him if he thought they would leave the dead girl in that house all night.

      He answered that he did not think they would. That a telegram had been sent some time before to young Mr. Van Burnam, and that they were only awaiting his arrival to remove her.

      “Do you mean Howard?” I asked.

      “Is he the elder one?”

      “No.”

      “It is the elder one they have summoned; the one who has been staying at Long Branch.”

      “How can they expect him then so soon?”

      “Because СКАЧАТЬ