“Why did she take a candle?
Does not Mr. Leavenworth burn gas in his halls?”
“Yes, sir; but we put the gas out as we go up, and Hannah is afraid of the dark.”
“If she took a candle, it must be lying somewhere about the house.
Now, has anybody seen a stray candle?”
“Not as I knows on, sir.”
“Is this it?” exclaimed a voice over my shoulder.
It was Mr. Gryce, and he was holding up into view a half-burned paraffine candle.
“Yes, sir; lor’, where did you find it?”
“In the grass of the carriage yard, half-way from the kitchen door to the street,” he quietly returned.
Sensation.
A clue, then, at last!
Something had been found which seemed to connect this mysterious murder with the outside world.
Instantly the back-door assumed the chief position of interest.
The candle found lying in the yard seemed to prove, not only that Hannah had left the house shortly after descending from her room, but had left it by the back-door, which we now remembered was only a few steps from the iron gate opening into the side street.
But Thomas, being recalled, repeated his assertion that not only the back-door, but all the lower windows of the house, had been found by him securely locked and bolted at six o’clock that morning.
Inevitable conclusion—some one had locked and bolted them after the girl.
Who?
Alas, that had now become the very serious and momentous question.
V. EXPERT TESTIMONY
“And often-times, to win us to our harm, The instruments of darkness tell us truths; Win us with honest trifles, to betray us In deepest consequence.”
—Macbeth.
IN THE MIDST OF the universal gloom thus awakened there came a sharp ring at the bell.
Instantly all eyes turned toward the parlor door, just as it slowly opened, and the officer who had been sent off so mysteriously by the coroner an hour before entered, in company with a young man, whose sleek appearance, intelligent eye, and general air of trustworthiness, seemed to proclaim him to be, what in fact he was, the confidential clerk of a responsible mercantile house.
Advancing without apparent embarrassment, though each and every eye in the room was fixed upon him with lively curiosity, he made a slight bow to the coroner.
“You have sent for a man from Bohn & Co.,” he said.
Strong and immediate excitement.
Bohn & Co. was the well-known pistol and ammunition store of — Broadway.
“Yes, sir,” returned the coroner. “We have here a bullet, which we must ask you to examine, You are fully acquainted with all matters connected with your business?”
The young man, merely elevating an expressive eyebrow, took the bullet carelessly in his hand.
“Can you tell us from what make of pistol that was delivered?”
The young man rolled it slowly round between his thumb and forefinger, and then laid it down.
“It is a No. 32 ball, usually sold with the small pistol made by Smith & Wesson.”
“A small pistol!” exclaimed the butler, jumping up from his seat. “Master used to keep a little pistol in his stand drawer.
I have often seen it.
We all knew about it.”
Great and irrepressible excitement, especially among the servants.
“That’s so!” I heard a heavy voice exclaim. “I saw it once myself—master was cleaning it.” It was the cook who spoke.
“In his stand drawer?” the coroner inquired.
“Yes, sir; at the head of his bed.”
An officer was sent to examine the stand drawer.
In a few moments he returned, bringing a small pistol which he laid down on the coroner’s table, saying,
“Here it is.”
Immediately, every one sprang to his feet, but the coroner, handing it over to the clerk from Bohn’s, inquired if that was the make before mentioned.
Without hesitation he replied, “Yes, Smith & Wesson; you can see for yourself,” and he proceeded to examine it.
“Where did you find this pistol?” asked the coroner of the officer.
“In the top drawer of a shaving table standing near the head of Mr. Leavenworth’s bed.
It was lying in a velvet case together with a box of cartridges, one of which I bring as a sample,” and he laid it down beside the bullet.
“Was the drawer locked?”
“Yes, sir; but the key was not taken out.”