The Last Stroke: A Detective Story Read online

  CHAPTER IX.

  A LETTER.

  As Robert Brierly entered the house, the detective, now taking the leadas a matter of course, turned toward Mrs. Fry.

  "I see that you are anxious to get back home," he said to her. "And itis as well that you go back in advance of us, for people are beginningto move about. Wait for us at the side door." And then, as the womanhastened away, he turned toward the doctor. "You need not feel uneasybecause of your guest, Doc.," he said, with his rare and fine smile."There are times when the physical man is in subjection to the spiritualman, or the will power within him, if you like that better. Brierly hasalready endured a severe mental strain, I grant, but he's not at the endof his endurance yet. In fact, if he's the journalist, and I begin tothink so, he knows how to sustain mental strain long and steadily. Youdon't fancy he could be persuaded to wait for meat and drink now, doyou?"

  "My soul, man!" exclaimed Doctor Barnes, "how you do read a man'sthoughts! No! Brierly wouldn't stop for anything now. Nor you, either,for that matter, What do you make of this?"

  "I can tell you better in an hour from now, I hope. Here's Brierly. Nowthen, gentlemen, try and look as if this was merely a morning walk. Wedon't want to excite the curiosity of the neighbours."

  There seemed little need of this caution, for they saw no one as theycrossed to the quiet street in which Mrs. Fry lived. But Ferrars, whohad fallen behind the others, had an observant eye upon all withinrange, as if, as the doctor afterward declared, he held the very townitself under suspicion.

  Mrs. Fry awaited them at the side door, and unlocked the one leading tothe front hall and stairway at once.

  "I hope one of you has got a pistol," she said, nervously, as theyapproached the stairs.

  "There's no one up there, Mrs. Fry," replied Ferrars. "Never fear." ButMrs. Fry was not so positive. She closed the sitting-room door, all butthe merest crack, and stood ready to clap it entirely shut at the firstsound of attack and defence from the room above.

  Meantime Robert Brierly, who had led the way upstairs, placed a firmhand upon the key, turned it and softly opened the door. Then, for amoment, all three stood still at the threshold, gazing within.

  It was Francis Ferrars who spoke the first word, with his hand uponRobert Brierly's shoulder, and his voice little more than a whisper.

  "Go inside, Brierly, quickly and quietly." He gave the shoulder underhis hand a quick, light, forward pressure, and instinctively, as itseemed, Brierly stepped across the threshold with the other two close athis heels, and, the moment they were inside the room, Ferrars turned andsilently withdrew the key from the outer side, closed the doorcautiously, and relocked it from within.

  "We will do well to dispense with Mrs. Fry, at least for the present,"he said, coolly. "It's plain enough there has been mischief here. Mr.Brierly, you saw this room last night, for a moment."

  Robert Brierly, who had dropped weakly upon a chair, stopped him with amovement of the hand.

  "Mr. Ferrars," he said, "I realise the importance of a right beginninghere, and if you will undertake this case--I am not a rich man, youunderstand--all I have is at your disposal. I could hardly bear to havemy brother's rooms searched by strange hands in my absence, but will itnot be wise that you should take the lead, and begin as you deem best?"

  "Yes," replied the detective, "but your assistance will be helpful."

  "Mrs. Fry is coming upstairs," broke in the doctor, who had beenstanding near the door.

  Ferrars sprang across the room, turned the key, and put his head outthrough the smallest possible opening in the door.

  "There's no one here, Mrs. Fry; and nothing missing, that we haveobserved. It was, no doubt, a boyish trick."

  He smiled amiably at the somewhat surprised woman.

  "When Mr. Brierly has had time to look about a bit he will of coursereport to you." And he closed the door in the good woman's astonishedface. "Better make no confidants until we know what we have to confide,"he said, turning back to survey the room afresh. "Now let us have morelight here."

  The room in which they were was dimly lighted, for the outer blinds ofits three windows had been closed, and all the light afforded them camefrom the one nearest the front corner, where half the shutter wasswinging loosely at the will of the morning breeze. This light, however,enabled them to see that the room was in some confusion, or rather,that it was not in the same neat order in which they had seen it on theprevious day.

  The writing desk, which later Mrs. Fry declared to have been closed, wasnow open, and a portion of the contents of its usually neatly arrangedpigeon-holes was scattered upon the leaf.

  "This," said Brierly, as they approached it, "was closed when I saw itlast night."

  "I remember," Ferrars nodded, and sat down in the revolving chair beforethe desk, and, without touching anything, ran his eye carefully over thescattered papers, examined the pigeon-holes, the locks, and even thefine coating of dust.

  Upon a round table near the front window were some scattered books,mostly of reference, a pile of unruled manuscript tablets, and a littleheap of written sheets. There was a set of bookshelves above thewriting-desk, and a wire rack near it was filled with newspapers andmagazines.

  When Ferrars had carefully noted the appearance of the desk and itscontents, he swung slowly around in the swivel chair and gazed all abouthim without rising. He had noted the books above him with a thoughtfulgaze, and he now fixed that same speculative glance upon those upon thetable. Then he got up.

  "Oblige me by not so much as touching this desk yet," he said, andcrossed to the table. "Your brother was a magazinist, Mr. Brierly?" hequeried.

  "Yes," replied Brierly.

  Ferrars turned toward the inner room which the others had not yetapproached.

  "Ah!" he exclaimed suddenly, and then, in an altered tone, "Here is Mrs.Fry's missing lamp."

  His two companions came to the door of the room, where Ferrars was nowlooking down at the pillows of the bed.

  "Brierly," asked Ferrars, as they paused in the doorway, "what had yourbrother with him in the way of valuables, to your knowledge?"

  The young man, who had been looking sharply about the room like one whoseeks something which should be there, started slightly.

  "Why, he had a somewhat odd and valuable watch, which was given him byour father upon our setting out for Europe. It was like this," and heproduced a very beautiful specimen of the watchmaker's art, and held itout for inspection. "He also had a ring set with a fine opal, that wasonce our mother's, and a locket with her monogram. There were also someodd trifles that he had picked up abroad, saying that they would becomehis future wife, no doubt."

  "And you think these were still in his possession?"

  "I do. In writing of Miss Grant not long ago he mentioned as a proof ofher refinement and womanly delicacy that she would accept no gifts fromhim other than books or flowers."

  "I think," said Ferrars, gravely, "that we had better have Mrs. Fry inhere now, and I want you to do the talking, Brierly. Doctor, if youwould ask her to come up, I'll post Mr. Brierly, meantime."

  The doctor turned the key in the lock and then hesitated. "I dare say Iwill not be needed here longer?"

  "You!" Ferrars turned upon him quickly. "Is there anything urgentoutside?"

  "Not especially so--only----"

  "Only you fancy yourself _de trop_? If you can spare us the time, wewant you right here, doctor. Eh, Mr. Brierly?"

  "By all means."

  "Then of course I am at your disposal," and the doctor went out insearch of Mrs. Fry.

  "I wish there were more men with his combined delicacy and good sense,"grumbled Ferrars, and then he began to explain to Brierly what waswanted from Mrs. Fry.

  When that good woman entered, Ferrars was seated by the furthestwindow, and Robert Brierly met her at the door.

  "Mrs. Fry," he began, "will you kindly look about you, without, ofcourse, disturbing or changing things, and tell us if you see anythingthat has changed? If you m
iss anything, or if anything in your opinion,has been tampered with? Look through both rooms carefully, and then giveus your opinion."

  Mrs. Fry, who had been expecting just such a summons and who fullyrealised the gravity of the occasion, stood still in her place near thedoor and looked slowly about her; then she began to walk about the room.Once or twice Brierly, prompted by a glance from the detective, had towarn her against putting a finger upon some object, but she went aboutwith firmly closed lips until she had reached the little sleeping room.Then--

  "Well, I declare!" she broke out. "If they haven't even been at thebed!"

  Brierly started forward, but Ferrars held up a warning finger.

  "And there's that lamp!" she went on, "with the chimney all smoked!Somebody's been carrying it around burning full tilt."

  By this time Ferrars was so close beside Brierly that he could breathe alow word in his ear, from time to time, unnoted by the woman as she wentpeering about.

  "You are sure the bed has been disturbed?" Brierly asked.

  "Certain of it!"

  "And can you guess why?"

  "Well, he always kept his pistol under the bolster."

  The men started and looked at each other. "What an oversight," murmuredthe doctor.

  "Do you mean," went on the enquiry, "that it was there yesterday morningwhen you made the bed?"

  "I can't say, sir. The fact is, I was awfully afraid of the thing, andwhen I told him I was, he put it clear under the bolster with his ownhand, and said it should stay there, instead of on top, as it used to beat first."

  "You don't mean that he left it there during the day?"

  "Yes, sir! This one. You see he had two. The one he used to practisewith--the one they found--was different. This one was bigger anddifferent somehow, and not like any pistol I ever saw. He told me 'twasa foreign weapon."

  "She is right," said Brierly. "My brother brought a pair of duellingpistols from Paris. They were elaborately finished. He gave me one ofthem." He looked anxiously toward the crushed and displaced pillows."Shall we not look," he asked, "and find out if anything is there? Willyou look, Mr. Ferrars? Or did you?"

  Ferrars moved forward. "No, I did not look," he said. "But the weapon isnot there; I could almost swear to it. Come--see, all of you."

  With a quick light hand he removed the pillows, turned back the sheetsand lifted the bolster. There was nothing beneath it, save theimpression where the weapon had laid upon the mattress.

  The detective turned toward Mrs. Fry. "You are sure it was hereusually?" he questioned.

  "I have lifted that bolster carefully every day, and have always seenit," she declared. "When I wanted to turn the mattress he always tookaway the pistol himself."

  Ferrars turned away from the bed, and Brierly resumed his role ofquestioner.

  "What else do you miss or find disturbed, Mrs. Fry?"

  She went back to the outer room after a last slow glance about thechamber.

  "There is the lamp, of course," she began. "That was taken from theshelf to give them light. Then the writing-desk has been opened, as yousee, and the things on that table have been disturbed, the books shovedabout, and the papers moved. I think," going slowly toward the article,"that even the waste basket and the paper holder have been rummaged."

  "And do you miss anything here?"

  Mrs. Fry shook her head. "I don't s'pose you've searched thewriting-desk yet?" she ventured.

  "Not yet. And is that all you observe, Mrs. Fry? The bed, the lamp, thedesk, table, rack, and basket?"

  She went back to the table and pointed out with extended forefinger acouple of burned matches, one upon a corner of the table, one upon thefloor almost beneath it.

  "They lit that lamp there!" she said. "And they brought their ownmatches. I never use those 'parlour matches,' as they call 'em!" Shebent her head to look closer at the polished surface of the table, andthen walked to the open window, where the shutter still swung in thebreeze. "It has been awful dusty since yesterday, seems to me, for thistime of year. That boy's left his finger prints on this window, aswell's on the table there."

  "Don't touch them!" It was Ferrars who spoke and so sharply that thewoman turned suddenly, but not soon enough to note the swift gesturewhich directed his exclamation.

  "Of course we may rely upon you to keep the fact that my brother's roomshave been entered in this manner from every one, for the present. Itmay be very important that we do not let it be known beyond the four ofus. You have not seen or spoken with any one as yet, I think you said?"

  "I haven't, and I won't. I'd do more than that for the sake of yourbrother, Mr. Brierly, and you've only to tell me what I can do."

  "I intend to examine my brother's papers now, Mrs. Fry, before I leavethe house, and if we should need you again we will let you know." AndMrs. Fry withdrew, puzzled and wondering much, but with her lips tightlyset over the secret she must and would help to preserve.

  "She'll keep silent, never fear," said the doctor as the door closedbehind her. "And now, Brierly, I must remind you that you will need allyour strength, and that I don't like your colour this morning. If youmust investigate at once, get it over, for you, even more than Ferrarsor I, need your morning coffee and steak."

  "That is true," agreed Ferrars. "Brierly, let me ask two questions, andthen oblige me by leaving certain marks, which I will point out to you,just as you find them."

  "Your questions." Brierly had already seated himself before hisbrother's desk.

  "I have an idea that this old oak writing-desk was not selected by ourfriend, Mrs. Fry. Am I right?"

  "It is my brother's desk; bought for its compact and portablequalities."

  "Good! Now, where did your brother usually keep these keepsakes and bitsof foreign jewellery?"

  "In one of these drawers. He kept them in a lacquered Japanese box."

  "Look for them. And, before you begin, oblige me by not touching thatletter file above the desk, nor the desk top just below it."

  The letter file held only a few bits of paper, apparently notes andmemoranda; and upon the flat top of the desk was a bronze ink well, apen tray, a thin layer of dust and nothing more, except a tiny scrap ofpaper hardly as big as a thumb nail, which lay directly beneath theletter file. Brierly cast a wandering glance over the desk top and fileand set about his task.

  There was quite a litter of papers, letters mostly, together with someloose sheets that contained figures, dates, or something begun and castaside. Below some of the pigeon holes, letters lay as if hastily pulledout, and from one of these little receptacles three or four envelopesprotruded, half out, half in--one, a square white envelope, projectingbeyond the others. These Brierly pulled forth, and turning them over inhis hand, scrutinised their superscriptions. Then slowly he took thesquare white wrapper from among the others, and drew out the letter itcontained. As he began to scan the page of closely lined writing hestarted, frowned, flushed hotly, and then with a look of fierce anger hethrust the sheet back into its envelope, and turned toward thedetective.

  "Take that!" he said with a curl of the lip. "Unless I am greatly atfault, it's a document in the case."

  Ferrars took the letter from him, and asked, as he thrust it into thepocket of his loose coat without so much as glancing at it, "Do you mindmy running over the papers in this rack, Brierly? and looking into thewaste basket?"

  "Do it, by all means," was the reply as Brierly pulled open the topmostdrawer; and then for some time there was silence, save for the rustle ofpaper or the rasping of a hinge or turning knob.

  When Brierly had finished his silent search of the two drawers, heapproached the detective with a small lacquered box in his hand.

  "The watch and the foreign jewels are gone," he said, holding out theopen box. "And what do you think of this? Here are my mother'skeepsakes, wrapped in tissue paper, and labelled in my brother's hand,'Mementos. From my mother.' The thief has spared these."

  The detective, who was now seated beside the table, holding a foldedn
ewspaper in his hand, took the box, looked at the tiny packet within,nodded and passed it silently to the doctor.

  "And now," went on Robert Brierly, and there was a new ring ofresolution and menace in his voice. "I turn the rooms and all theycontain over to you, Mr. Ferrars, and I await your opinion, when youhave read that letter in your pocket."

  Ferrars drew forth the envelope and looked at it for the first time. Itwas only a fragment, for a large corner of its face was missing, thecorner, in fact, which should have borne the postage stamp and thepostmaster's seal.

  Without a word he held this side towards the two men, extending it firstto one, and then to the other.

  "You see!" he said, and then to Brierly. "Was it your brother's habit totear his letters open in such a reckless manner?"

  "No. He was almost dainty in all his ways."

  "Is there another letter in that desk torn as this is?"

  Without a word Brierly took the letter and went back to the desk,catching the letters from their pigeon holes by the handful.

  "I understand," he said, when he came back to them. "No, there is not atorn envelope there."

  "Then," said the detective, "I think I may venture to give an opinioneven before I look at this letter."