At One-Thirty by Isabel Ostrander (best book series to read .txt) 📖

“Did you hear anything after that, anything that sounded like a shot, for instance?”

“No, sir, nothing. My room is at the very top of the house, and I shut my door tight, and went back to bed. And that’s all I know. That was everything I heard until Katie screamed, in the early morning, and I rushed down to find Mr. Garret dead in his chair.”

“At what time did you leave your bed, Dakers, and go downstairs for the brandy?”

“At a little after twelve, sir.”

“And how long did you remain standing outside the door of the den? How long before the blow was struck, and Mr. Yates Appleton was ordered from the house?”

“I couldn’t rightly say, sir. Not more than ten or fifteen minutes, at the longest; for, when I got back to my room, it was halfpast twelve by my clock.”

“Are you sure? What made you look to see?”

The questions came like a rapid-fire shot; but the butler was ready for them.

“I knew Miss Ellerslie would be home soon from the wedding-reception, and I wondered if she would hear them quarreling, sir, or if Mr. Yates would go to his rooms, or take himself out of the house again before she came.”

“H’ml Why did you come to me today and tell me this? Why didn’t you tell me yesterday?”

The butler hesitated a fraction of a second too long.

“Well, sir, I—IVe been with the family too long. It didn’t seem fair to give any of them away like that—although I don’t owe Mr. Yates Appleton anything!” The note of resentment that crept into his voice at the last words was unmistakable, and illuminating. “He’s never done me a good turn in his life. But I was afraid, if the police, or you, sir, found out that he’d come back and quarreled with his brother in the night, they might think he’d—he’d killed him, sir, especially as he’d struck him.”

“And what made you change your mind, Dakers?”

“Well, after I’d thought it all over, it didn’t seem right to keep anything back—like interfering in the course of justice, sir.”

“I imderstand what you mean, Dakers. But why didn’t you go to Mrs. Appleton—the elder Mrs. Appleton?”

“What, sir? I don’t quite see, sir!” The butler’s suave tones were blended with a note of amazement and alarm.

Gaunt smiled quietly to himself.

“When Mr. Yates Appleton refused to pay you for your silence, why didn’t you go to his mother? You won’t get anything out of it by coming to me, you know, and Mrs. Appleton would have paid you well.”

The butler cringed suddenly.

“I don’t know how you knew it, sir; but it’s true. After all, it wasn’t anything to be ashamed of, sir. I’m a poor man, and what I knew was worth money. But Mr. Yates wouldn’t bargain with me. Just flew in a rage, and used dreadful language, and ordered me out when I called to see him last evening. I did try to see Mrs. Appleton; but she sent down word that she was indisposed, and wouldn’t receive anyone. I don’t think the little note I sent up to her at the Blenheim Hotel last evening was ever delivered to her, though, or she would have seen me right enough. I couldn’t get admitted to her this morning either, and I knew it was no good trying Mr. Yates again. I was afraid, too, that you, or the Inspector, might find out any minute what I knew, and I thought I’d better come and tell you. I’ve got to think of my character, sir.”

“Well, you’ve thought of it rather late, Dakers. Do you realize that, if anything comes of this. you may be subpoenaed to appear In court and testify, and, when it comes out that you’ve deliberately kept this evidence back in order to try to get money from the family for your silence, you may be arrested for attempted blackmail?”

“Blackmail!” the man fairly shrieked. “Oh, sir, no—not that! My character would be ruined, sir! I shouldn’t be able to get another place, and I’ve worked faithfully, all my life, for the very best people. I didn’t intend it as blackmail, sir — indeed, indeed, I didn’t! It was only a—a favor, like, to the family, and they could well afford to pay for it. I never thought of blackmailing anybody—never! “

“Well, considering that you came to me, anp told me, of your own free will, Dakers, I’ll see what I can do for you. But mind you keep this quiet, without a word to anyone, and hold yourself in readiness to testify whenever I want you.”

“Yes, sir, of course; anything you say, sir. I’m sure I’m perfectly willing to do whatever you say!” At his dismissal, the frightened little man scurried out, as if only too glad to escape from the dreaded presence of the detecrive.

Gaunt wasted no rime, but, summoning Jenkins for his hat and coat, descended to the car.

“The Calthorp, Saunders, and look sharp.”

The air was crisp and searchingly cold, in the first keen frost of early autumn, and the swift rush of sharp wind seemed to clear Gaunt’s thoughts, and send his blood racing through his veins. The task before him was a difficult one. Although it seemed that the case, on the face of it, was all but cleared up, and the mystery of Garret Appleton’s death solved, there were several points still lost in obscurity, points of glaring significance. It was evident that the butler had told all he knew. Gaunt had so thoroughly frightened him by the threat of punishment for attempted blackmail that he would eagerly have disclosed anything further of which he might have been cognizant, to ingradate himself with the detecrive, and thus possibly save his own skin. It seemed inconceivable that he, lying awake and probably on the qui vive for any further sounds of strife and dis-< cension from below, in spite of the fact that his room was at the top of the house and his door closed, would not have heard the revolver shot, had Garret Appleton’s life been ended during the ensuing moments of his quarrel with his brother. More than that, Yates knew that Barbara Ellerslie might return at any moment, and walk in upon the scene of the tragedy, unless in the heat of his rage and passion this had passed quite from his mind.

But, if he had killed his brother, would he have walked out of the house, leaving the traces of his crime for any casual discovery, only to return hours later, and attempt, as well as he could, to change the scene to represent the murder as the outcome of a burglary? It seemed unthinkable, as, by the testimony of his own friend, he had left in a far more intoxicated condition than when he had come to him, at approximately one o’clock, directly after the quarrel. And if he had been in a sufficiently clear-headed condition to have attempted to cover the traces of his crime, would he not have remembered the damning bit of evidence left behind earlier in the night—the cufFlink, which, the housemaid had stated, lay in plain view before the door of the den?

If not he, then who in that household would have attempted to change the appearance of the room in which the dead man sat? Who would have had the necessary strength of character and nerve to have conceived such a plan, and have carried it to fruirion? Only two, from Gaunt’s observations, and both of these were women. Barbara EUersIie would have been capable of it; but the only motive strong enough to impel her to such an act would have been her conviction that her little sister was guilty. That was a matter which might still remain to be looked into. If, on the other han4, the elder Mrs. Appleton had chanced to enter the room of death in the early hours of the morning, she would have had the strongest motive in the world for attempting to conceal the true state of affairs. Her denunciatory cry of “Cain!” when she stood beside her dead son’s body proved that, momentarily at least, she had thought Yates guilty of his brother’s murder. Yet, she had proceeded to send at once for the detective with the biggest reputation of his time. Gaunt found himself back at the same point of reasoning as on the previous day.

They reached the Calthorp, an ornate and imposing bachelor apartment^ a stone’s-throw from the avenue, and Saunders guided him to the apartment that Yates Appleton had arranged to take on the previous day.

“I think Mr. Appleton is in; but I doubt if he’ll see you,” the clerk at the desk had informed them. “He’s been saying he’s out to everyone who’s called; but he hasn’t ‘phoned down any orders to us about it, so I guess you can go right up.”

“Oh, he will see me, I’m sure,” Gaunt replied easily, with an engaging smile, and stepped into the elevator.

As they pressed the bell at the door of the apartment, they distinctly heard a hurrying about within and a hasty snapping sound, as of the lids of trunks or suit-cases being hurriedly closed. Then, after a little, James appeared at the door. 1

“Oh, Mr. Gaunt!” he said. “It’s too bad, sir! I suppose you wanted to see Mr. Appleton? He’s gone away.”

“Surely he hasn’t gone yet,” returned the detective, stepping resolutely into the hall of the apartment. Saunders waited rather uncertainly outside. “You haven’t finished repacking yet.”

“No, sir. I—I’m to follow him, sir.”

“Where is Mr. Appleton going, James?”

“I d-don’t know, sir.” The man was plainly agitated. “He’s to let me know where to go to him, and when.”

“It’s very strange that he should go away like this,” Gaunt remarked. “I do not think he intended it yesterday, else you would not have unpacked, and now be repacking again.”

“No. He—he decided quite suddenly, sir.” The man seemed anxious, far too anxious, for the detective’s departure. He added desperately, still holding the door open: “I’ll tell him when I see him, sir, that you called.”

“I’m quite sure he hasn’t left the city—yet.” Gaunt’s tone was still bland; but there was an under-note of finality that increased the valet’s perturbation. “He will probably return for a few moments at least, or telephone to you. I think I will wait.”

“It won’t be the slightest use, sir—” the man began hastily.

But Gaunt interrupted him sternly. “I will wait.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” James burst out, at last; “but I have strict orders from Mr. Appleton to admit no one, and I must obey him, sir.”

“I am the detective employed in this case,” the other thundered, “and I will remain here until Mr. Appleton returns! I shall go to Mrs. Finlay Appleton, or to the police, if necessary. to enforce my demand. You are making things look very black for your master by behaving in this manner, James!”

“I—I was only trying to carry out his orders, sir,” the valet faltered. “I’m sure I’m very sorry, sir. I don’t suppose he meant them for you— he didn’t have an idea that you were coming.”

James closed the front door, shutting out the faithful Saunders, and led the way into the library.

The detective seated himself, and asked, turning his head from side to side as if glancing about him.

“Who else is in this apartment, James?”

“Here, sir?” the valet started nervously. “Why, no one, sir.”

“I distinctly smell tobacco smoke,” Gaunt remarked, very quietly.

There was a pause, and then James affirmed in a faint voice, as if the words were fairly dragged from him.

“It was—me, sir.”

“You? Does Mr. Appleton permit you to smoke in his rooms?”

“Why—why,