SUSPECT JAILED FOR MONTEAGLE MURDER!
“Norton!”
It was Sampson’s voice. When Sampson shot that curt4 call in his ugly voice through the swinging doors of his office I felt as though the warden5 was calling me from the condemned6 cell for the drop. Only the able-bodied newspaper man who has been trimmed hard by the men of the opposition7 papers can understand the sensation. It belongs in its exquisite8 misery9 solely10 to such as speak the language of the tribe. For the head in the Enquirer—my story—had been only a three-column:
POLICE ARE BAFFLED IN MONTEAGLE MYSTERY!
Sampson contemplated11 me coldly and long; he[Pg 152] fairly brooded over me. But there was no outburst, and that, after all, hurt worse than if he had put me on the irons for a broiling12.
Ralph Monteagle, broker13, millionaire, well-known, popular, and engaged to the equally well-known and popular Helen Dennison, had been found in his office on the fourth floor of the Sutton Building, stabbed to death. No weapon was found, the door was locked, the window shut. Neither money nor valuables were taken. The knife, curiously15, had been sliced once across each cheek, evidently done after death, with deliberate intent to mar16 the features. Monteagle had entered his offices at 9:15 o’clock on Monday evening. The watchman had discovered the crime at midnight. The system in the Sutton Building permitted an absolute check on all persons entering the building after 8 o’clock, when the outer doors were locked. Any person coming in after that hour was admitted by the watchman, Murray, who until 12 o’clock was stationed in the lobby. The night elevator man kept a record of each person entering the building and to which room he went. It was a building given over to brokers17, capitalists, and large law firms, and several robberies of magnitude had brought about this particular system of keeping a check on all persons in the building after night.
The elevator man, on going off duty at midnight, turned his book over to the watchman, who thereupon made the rounds of each of the offices where[Pg 153] there were still tenants18 or visitors. It was in this manner that the crime had been discovered after Murray had rapped repeatedly on Monteagle’s door and had finally admitted himself with his master’s key.
Only three other tenants had been in the building during the evening, and they were able to clear themselves of all suspicion. The police turned their attention to the attachés of the building. Suspicion fell on a janitor19, Stromberg, who had the fourth and fifth floors. Apparently20 clinching21 proof of the police suspicions had been afforded when Stromberg’s jumper, blood stained, was located at his laundry. It was in the arrest of Stromberg, which had taken place late the night before, that I had been “scooped22” through my zealousness23 in leaving the detectives uncovered while I followed a lead that subsequently proved entirely24 wrong.
Stromberg claimed to have cut his hand with a scraper while cleaning the mosaic25 tiling, and had a deep gash26 on the ball of his thumb. The police theory was that he had gashed27 himself purposely, and in answer to his defence that it would have been an insane thing for him to have sent his jumper to the laundry if he had committed the crime, held to the theory that he had taken precisely28 that method, in combination with the self-imposed gash on his hand, to divert suspicion by seeming frankness.
With the commendable29 faculty30 of the American[Pg 154] police in usually working to fasten the crime upon whomsoever they may happen to have in custody31, the officers were devoting their energies to “cinching” their case on Stromberg.
When Sampson had completed his disquieting32 survey of me, he finally said:
“I am giving this story to Ransom33 and Dickson to handle to-day.” I could see that he had it all figured out in his cold-blooded way; that nothing else was to be expected of me than to be scooped, and that any remarks would be superfluous34. But it ground me. “What I want you to do,” he continued nastily, “is to find Lanagan. Possibly you can succeed in that at least. I wouldn’t be sorry at that if some more of you fellows drank the brand of liquor Lanagan drinks once in a while. I might get a story out of the bunch of you occasionally. Instead, the Times and the Herald give it to us on the features of this story three days running—three days. It’s the worst beating I’ve had in a year. You find Lanagan and tell him I want him to jump into the story independent of Ransom and Dickson. I would like to get the tail feathers out of this thing, anyhow.”
Ransom and Dickson had no relish35 for the story, three days old.
“Might as well try to galvanise a corpse,” grumbled36 Ransom. I turned over to them what matters I had that might bear watching, and was about to leave the office when the ’phone rang for me. Very[Pg 155] fortunately, it was Lanagan; and I couldn’t forbear a sort of gulp37, because I felt instinctively38 that he had wakened up somewhere out of his ten days’ lapse39, with the knowledge that I was handling the Monteagle story and was getting badly beaten on it. I was right in that, too.
“Thought I would catch you before you left,” he said. His voice was throaty, and I judged that he had been seeing some hard days and nights. “Suppose that pickled jellyfish of a Sampson has been lacing you? You should be laced. Met Brady a few minutes ago and he said you were handling—or mishandling—the story. You ought to get a month’s lay-off for letting that crowd of two-by-four dubs40, on the Times at least, get the best of you. Come on down. I want to talk things over.”
He was at Billy Connors’ “Buckets of Blood,” that famed barroom rendezvous41 by the Hall of Justice, where the thieves’ clans42 were wont43 to forgather. There was nothing of particular coincidence in his ringing me up just when he did; it was shortly after 1 o’clock, the hour when the local staff reported on, and he would be sure of finding me in.
He sat at the rear alcove44 table with “King” Monahan. “You know my friend the King, of course?” was his greeting. Monahan, one-time designated King of the Pick-pockets, after serving two terms, had retired45 from the active practice of that profession to establish himself, it was generally[Pg 156] believed, not only as a “fence,” handling exclusively the precious stones, but also as a sort of local organiser, to whom any outside gang must report on or before beginning operations in San Francisco. There is system in crime these days as in all things else.
“Kind of stuck it in and broke it off, didn’t they?” he continued.
“I’ve stood one panning from Sampson; I don’t want another from you,” I retorted savagely46.
“Norrie,” he said, “you overlooked a very vital point. The King and I have been talking it over,”—he had the three morning papers spread out before him—“and we have concluded that there was a woman in the case. And when two eminent47 criminologists, like Kid Monahan and Jack48 Lanagan, agree that there is a woman in a case, it at least is worthy49 of consideration.”
“A moll, sure,” vouchsafed50 Monahan in his diffident way. He had a manner as timorous51 as a girl, which possibly accounted for the success that he enjoyed while practising his profession. He was not one, on the crowded platform of a trolley52 car, who would be immediately suspected when some proletarian raised a cry of sneak53 thief and sought in vain for a stick pin, watch, or wallet.
“Stromberg may or may not be guilty,” said Lanagan, “but I don’t think much of the case the police have made against him. It, at least, doesn’t bar us from another line of speculation54.
[Pg 157]“Tell me, for instance, why in the name of the Seven Suns, didn’t some of you sleuths go off on the theory that whoever committed that crime got into the office earlier in the evening and remained concealed55 in the closet until Monteagle came in? It would have been the easiest thing in the world to have decoyed Monteagle to his office even if it wasn’t known that he was working nights to make up for the lunches and bachelor dinners and afternoon teas that he’s been going to on account of his coming marriage.
“And as for whoever committed the murder getting out, you have been on the scene of too many murders not to know the hysteria that comes over a bunch of yaps like that. It’s a safe bet they all ran for a regular policeman, and that whoever was in that room—provided he was still there, or she—when the crime was discovered could have walked out of that building with a fair way as wide as Market Street.”
“Murray ran for a policeman,” I admitted, “and some of the janitors56 with him.”
“That’s what special cops usually do,” was Lanagan’s comment. “And it’s a safe bet that those square-head janitors all ran with him. They didn’t stay around those corridors alone after that crime was discovered until a regular copper57 came along. I’ve seen the thing happen and so has every police reporter in the business.”
Lanagan paused, pushed back a half-drained[Pg 158] suisses and called for a sweet soda—his curious habit when breaking off a “lapse.”
“Whoever killed Monteagle,” he continued, “was in that room when he entered—always assuming, of course, that it was not Stromberg.
“Now I have something additional, through the King and his invaluable58 sources of information on men and affairs. It is this: Monteagle is known to certain portions of the night life. He was a two-faced society blatherskite, with a broad streak59 of primal60 vulgarity, who drank tea in swagger drawing-rooms with his fiancée and her friends in the afternoon and champagne61 with an entirely different social set after midnight. You know the kind. Was rather keen about women in an underhanded, quiet way. It is not difficult for a man of his means to do a lot of things behind the unassailable French restaurant walls and get by with it.
“You recall the knife was drawn62 neatly63 across both cheeks. I see you indulged in a theory that he possibly was the victim of some blackmail64 brotherhood65. You even hinted at the Mafia. I am surprised at you. You ought to let that exaggerated institution rest for a while. I have a little theory of my own on that knifing business, which, I think, we will now work upon. ’Phone Sampson when you get a chance that it pleases Lanagan to go to work for his sweat-shop wages again.”
We parted company with Monahan after he had promised Lanagan to drift through his particular[Pg 159] world—or that portion of it which was then up—and endeavour to learn something of the identity of any of Monteagle’s affiliations66 under the rose.
We headed for the Sutton Building, and in the lobby found Murray, just coming on duty.
“Do you think anyone could have gotten out of that room in the excitement after you found the body?” asked Lanagan.
“No, sir,” said Murray, with aged14 preciseness. “I locked the door on the outside when I went for an officer, and it could not have been opened, because in my hurry I left my master’s key turned in the lock when I went for a policeman.”
So much for Lanagan’s very plausible67 theory of the “get-away.” He came up from it as suave68 as ever and asked:
“Could anyone have been in that room before Monteagle came in, do you suppose?”
“No, sir,” said Murray, with the didacticism of the aged again. “No, sir. There was nobody in that room. I know because the elevator boy, Denny, heard the telephone bell ringing for eight or ten times, and finally let himself in and answered it, but the party hung up. Mr. Monteagle was very free and easy with us men, which accounts for Denny taking the liberty. There was nobody in that room when Denny was in there, and that was well after eight o’clock, after I came on duty. It all gets me, sir, how that knife sticker got into that room or how he got out after he got there. I don’t[Pg 160] like to think Ole Stromberg had a hand in it, but it looks a leetle black for Ole, according to the papers. I know my skirts are clear.”
We went on up to the room. The Public Administrator69, with Monteagle’s lawyer and his stenographer70, was there. The lawyer was inclined to get forward, but the Administrator was a good programer for a newspaper man and smoothed matters over. Lanagan was studying the stenographer: intelligent of feature, stylishly71 but plainly dressed, and bearing about her eyes and mouth very plain indications of the nervous tension under which she must have laboured during the last three days. She was one of that type of well-poised secretary-stenographers found in most large offices.
Lanagan made an opportunity of asking her:
“Did Mr. Monteagle have any enemies that you know of? Persons who have threatened him personally, by letter or over the ’phone?”
“None that I know of,” she replied quietly.
“Do you think,” asked Lanagan quickly, eying the girl narrowly with those singularly penetrating72 eyes of his, “do you think it could have been possible that a person might have been concealed in that closet when you locked the office door for the night?”
“Oh, no, no,” she answered quickly, but her eyes involuntarily swept first to the closet and then to Lanagan’s face as though in secret, anxious questioning. “Why, it makes me shiver even to think[Pg 161] such a thing could have happened,” she added, and she unmistakably shivered a little.
There was more conversation, and Lanagan fell to examining the room. He first examined the closet. Then he opened the window and scrutinised the sill for a long time. He got down on his knees and peered beneath the heat radiator73 of coiled pipes. He lit a match, the space between the bottom of the radiator and the floor being so slight that he could not examine it as closely as he seemed to want to.
“Expect your man to get into the room through that?” asked the Public Administrator with heavy facetiousness74.
“Oh, no,” replied Lanagan smoothly75; “it’s just possible he got out of the room through it, though,” and continued with his minute examination.
The stenographer, Grace Northrup by name, although assisting the other two sorting out papers, found time each moment to flash a quick glance at Lanagan. Whether it was merely active feminine curiosity I could not determine. As for me, I had been over the room half a dozen times already. It held nothing further for me; but I never could even guess at the clues Lanagan might turn up on a trail that a dozen men had tramped over, so I remained to see him work with keen interest. When Lanagan had finished we left.
“Now, Norrie, my boy, to the Bush Street office of the telephone company,” he said with as much[Pg 162] enthusiasm as I ever saw him exhibit. “You are a fine old blunderbuss for fair! But the others aren’t any better. Plain as the nose on your face! Lord, Lord!” He stopped and looked at me, laughing immoderately. I was inclined to be a trifle sulky; he made me feel like a six-dollar cub76.
“Only,” he continued, “it’s a three days’ trail that I have taken up, and that dirk wielder77 has got just that much of a start—always assuming, for the sake of the argument, that it was not Stromberg.”
I didn’t ask him what he was going to the telephone office for; it came to me with a sting that I had heard that same bit of information about the telephoning dropped during the last two or three days, and, in the press of clues that I considered more important, had dismissed it. Which was the difference between Jack Lanagan and the rest of us; he had that intuitive faculty of eliminating the superfluous and driving at the main fact. It is, after all, a faculty found in all successful men of whatever occupation.
We both knew Lamb, traffic manager of the ’phone company. Lanagan asked for permission to talk with the girl who on Monday night handled the board having Bush 1243—Monteagle’s number. Lamb was a substantial chap, and promised to keep our visit in confidence. It was just before 4 o’clock, and the 4 to 10 shift of girls was coming on. In a few moments a young girl of sensible,[Pg 163] pleasant demeanour was shown to the room, and Lamb retired after requesting that she give us all the information she might have on whatever subjects we discussed.
“You will be performing a service that will be appreciated,” said Lanagan, “if you could recall whether on Monday evening, along about 8 o’clock, you had several calls for Bush 1243?”
“Yes, sir, I do,” she instantly answered. “It was not a busy night and I was handling three positions. The call came from the east office. We do not talk to the party direct on an outside call, and east supervisor78 came on the line several times to instruct me to try and raise the number. That is how I recall it so distinctly.”
“I may tell you that that is the telephone number of the office of Mr. Monteagle, who was murdered,” said Lanagan. “I don’t suppose you ever got a line on whom his telephone calls might be from as a general thing, did you?”
“No, sir,” she answered primly79. “I pay no attention to whom is on a line.”
“Thank you,” said Lanagan. “I think you can be trusted not to say anything about our visit or questions?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
We got a card of introduction from Lamb to Adams, manager of east office, and hurried there.
“Wasn’t that rather an indiscreet thing to do, tell her Monteagle’s number?” I suggested. Lanagan[Pg 164] laughed and slapped me on the back. It was evident he was in high feather with himself. I was trundling along, absolutely in the dark.
“My dear Norrie, when you meet a girl like that take her into your confidence. Did you get that ‘to whom’? She smelt80 a rat and would have looked the number up and blown the glad tidings all over the office that a couple of detectives or newspaper men had been interviewing her on the murder. Recollect81, too, that the telephone from the reporters’ room at police headquarters comes in on this exchange. It’s just possible that some of those gay young blades on night police have affiliations with some of these gay young blondes. I have got many a story through ’phone girls—and have occasionally lost a story through the same medium. Get me? As it stands, she is all puffed82 up with her own importance and pat with us. There are times when you have got to take a chance at spilling your hand. This was one of them.” I subsided83, humbled84.
Not to occupy too much space with the merely routine details of working out the clue, we met Adams, another substantial chap. The chief operator recalled distinctly the number, more particularly because the woman calling it had been nervous and irritable85. The call came, she said, from the public booth at Shumate’s pharmacy86. It was only a couple of blocks away, and we went there.
It was a large establishment with half a dozen[Pg 165] clerks. We worked down the list. The fourth man had been on duty Monday night and recalled a young woman who had entered the booth repeatedly on that evening. She lived some place in the vicinity, he said, and usually got off the Sutter Street car shortly after 5.30 o’clock. The car stopped directly in front of the door, and if we would wait he would point her out to us if she came that way this evening.
I took a position outside to signal in when a car approached and Lanagan remained inside. It was then just after five.
Among the passengers from one car I noticed Miss Northrup, and was about to step forward and speak to her on a chance of her dropping something additional when I caught a glimpse out of the tail of my eye of Lanagan signaling me with a swift gesture. I dodged87 around the corner before she saw me. She passed on up Sutter Street, and in a few moments Lanagan picked me up, his sallow face taking on a tinge88 of colour and his dark eyes sparkling.
“Pretty near scrambled89 the eggs that time, didn’t you?” he chuckled90. “That’s the woman who did the telephoning.”
I stared.
“Do you recall that furtive91 look with which she followed me at the office? She lives just up there, where we will let her rest for a time with her troubles. And I fancy she has them. Let us[Pg 166] go back to Connors’. I am to meet Monahan there.”
The King was waiting for us. He took Lanagan to one side. All I could hear was Lanagan’s “Good!” once, and then the King had slipped out the side door.
“Best single asset the police have is Monahan,” said Lanagan, apropos92 of nothing in particular. “Knows more about the night life of this city than any four men in it. But he tips nothing that might hurt his own game or his own people. In a way he preserves a certain code even while acting93 as a police ‘stool.’ In this matter, however, the invaluable Mr. Monahan is working for Jack Lanagan; and the police are consequently about three laps behind.
“I see nothing in sight for some hours. We will eat our dinner and take in a show for a few moments. I rather anticipate a climax94 later and some rapid-fire work for us both on the typewriter. I need a little stimulus—that hasn’t got wormwood in it.”
He would give me absolutely not a line on his “lay.” He could be a baffling, enigmatic, impersonal95 proposition when he took the humour.
We headed for the Oyster96 Loaf, and I groaned97 for the four and a half that was between me and pay day as Lanagan methodically disposed of an onion soup, special; French mushrooms on toast, a New York cut, Gorgonzola, and a two-bit cigar.[Pg 167] He drank three glasses of ice water, but that didn’t cost anything.
“A man’s meal,” he said with vast creature content. “Now give me that other half you have left. I want a shave. You go up and touch Dan for a five-spot. We may need expenses later. I’ll meet you at Dan’s at nine o’clock. I want to pick Monahan up again before I see you, and also see Leslie.”
At the time appointed we met. “Let’s take a ten-twenty-thirty,” suggested Lanagan. “By half-past ten we will have to get busy. There’s a singer over at the Continental98 that some of the dramatic critics say has real fire. La Pattini, I think she is called.”
So we drifted into the Continental and caught part of the performance. There were trained birds of more than ordinary sagacity; the stereotyped99 and fearful cornet soloist100; the girl singer, La Pattini, with a wonderful mezzo, remarkable101 beauty, an undoubted future, and an ability to sing the “Rosary” in a manner to bring tears. Then came a slap-stick tumbling act that was impossible, and we left.
Lanagan had suddenly become thoughtful. “Do you know what I think?” he said. “I think the world would actually do better to sweep away every vestige102 of law and ordinance103 and make a clean start again. Our system of punishment is all wrong. Take one heinous104 class of crimes; we punish the[Pg 168] individual who takes upon herself to punish. We say the State has the power of punishment and the prerogative105; and yet in the very crimes that are the most damnable, the State can never interfere106 because the injured party must suffer in silence. You might as well expect children to learn English through hieroglyphics107 as to make applicable to present-day conditions the antiquated108 penal109 code to which society is harnessed. That’s about enough of the sermon stuff. It’s not in my line.”
Lanagan was taking the lead, but I was not altogether surprised when we finally found ourselves in the neighbourhood of the Northrup home. Nor was I altogether surprised when Chief Leslie, that shrewd and veteran thief-taker, suddenly stepped from a doorway110. My mind shot ahead to the Northrup home, a few doors away, and I could not bring myself to believe it could be possible that she was a principal.
“Brady is above,” said Leslie. “He says she came in about twenty minutes ago. We had better move on her.”
“Immediately,” said Lanagan, and in a moment more we were all three before the door to a lower flat of the old-fashioned sort, with a bell jangling noisily as Lanagan pulled out the handle.
It was Miss Northrup who answered the ring. She had on a dressing111 gown, and her hair, I could see, had been taken down for retiring and then gathered in a loose coil on her head, probably when[Pg 169] the bell rang. She opened the door but a few inches.
“We would like to speak with you a moment, Miss Northrup,” said Lanagan. He indicated the chief. “This is Chief Leslie.”
“Kindly permit us to enter,” said the chief. There was a shadow of authority in his tone, and I knew that Lanagan and the chief were planning a drive on the girl and that something would be stirring in this old-fashioned flat before long. She hesitated a moment and then threw the door wide open and motioned us into the parlour. In the hall a gas jet burned dimly, as though for some member of the family who was not yet home.
She reached up and turned on the parlour light, and as she did so her loosely coiled hair tumbled about her shoulders. As the light struck down upon her features they had an appearance almost tragic112.
“Be seated,” she said; it needed no expert eye to detect in her drawn lips the evidence of nervous tension.
“Madam,” said Leslie abruptly113, snapping his jaws114 like a trap—and I knew this twenty-year-old girl was in for the third degree—“unless you at this time make a clean breast of all that you know concerning the murder of your employer, Ralph Monteagle, it will be necessary for me to book you for murder as an accessory before the fact.”
She started violently; her bosom115 began to rise[Pg 170] and fall quickly; it was evident a breakdown116 was imminent117, but she managed to say with considerable smoothness:
“I know nothing more than I have already told the police and the reporters.”
Lanagan, fierce eagerness glittering in his eyes, stepped before her.
“Nevertheless, possibly you know,” he said, biting each word off short, “how many persons beside yourself and Bartlett, Monteagle’s former chauffeur118, who bought it, knew of the rope in his closet; knew that Monteagle had a morbid119 fear of being trapped in that building at night by fire; that he had had that fear since his friend Mervin was burned to death in the Baldwin Hotel fire; that he let no one know about the rope for fear of being ridiculed120? How many persons, I say, besides yourself and Bartlett, knew the rope was there? And when you knew that that rope had disappeared, as you must have known it, why didn’t you tell the police? Why did you permit a man to lie in prison whom you in your heart feel is innocent?”
She sprang to her feet and threw both hands towards him as though warding121 off physical blows. She was trembling in intense agitation122.
“Don’t! Don’t! for God’s sake, don’t!”
She sank back again into her chair, her face buried in her hands, rocking and moaning, with Lanagan standing123 over her, inexorable as Nemesis124.
There was the sound of quick, light running up[Pg 171] the front stairs, a key was turned in the lock, the front door swung open, and the girl in the chair, startled from her huddled125 misery, sprang to her feet and fairly leaped to meet the newcomer. She cried out, but whether in warning or in the joy of greeting could not be said, for her voice was half-smothered126 in a sob127.
“Sister!” she said at last falteringly128. “Sister, please go to your room. It is only some more policemen about Mr. Monteagle!” The words came chokingly. The other had not as yet come into our sight, but now she stepped into the light that streamed from the parlour into the hall—and I heard Lanagan’s swift, involuntary ejaculation:
“La Pattini! Her sister!”
Leslie, swift as thought, was half-across the parlour floor to the hall, yielding to a natural police impulse, but the newcomer, the other girl clinging to her, stepped fully129 into the doorway to the parlour.
“Yes,” she said in a voice that had no tremour of emotion, “La Pattini. Her sister. Why?”
“Why?” said Leslie, grimly. “Because we were just going to book her for murder as an accessory before the fact. We will switch the cut now and book you as the principal.”
At the feet of the queenly Pattini the harassed130 sister swooned. Lanagan pulled shut the door leading to the hall so that no one might by any mischance disturb us, and I fell to chafing131 the wrists of the senseless girl.
[Pg 172]La Pattini sank wearily to a chair, stooping so that she could stroke her sister’s temples.
“I am glad it is over,” she said, apathetically132. “I have only wondered that it did not come sooner. I have expected it hourly.”
The story was soon told: simple, age-old, but ever new, sordid133 possibly to a slight degree, but profoundly sad. She who was now known as La Pattini met Monteagle while visiting her sister at his office. He had found means to extend the acquaintance, had aided her in a secret way in her ambitions for the stage, securing the engagement at the Continental for her, and as a result of the clandestine134 relation there had been a promise of marriage. Then had come the engagement announcement of the Dennison-Monteagle marriage and the awakening135 of the dupe. But this was not the dupe of Monteagle’s many experiences. The picture of Miss Dennison, staring at her from the society columns, had fired a sinister136 jealousy137.
A confession138 had been made to the younger sister when La Pattini sought an opportunity of pleading once again alone with Monteagle, who had finally repudiated139 her. The sister had admitted her to the office after Monteagle left for the afternoon, knowing he was to return in the evening. She concealed herself in the closet.
Before she entered the office her plan had been formed. Either Monteagle would marry her or he should die. At that time she had no thought of[Pg 173] escaping. She had heard the telephone ringing repeatedly; heard the elevator boy enter the room just too late to get the party calling.
Finally Monteagle had arrived and she had discovered herself. What happened was quickly over. The quarrel was of few words, and he had struck her with his fist. She stabbed him to the heart, and then with a vindictiveness140 that she could not now understand and shuddered141 at recalling had marred142 his features with the knife. Her first thought had been to give herself up. Then she wondered why she should do that. The brief words of their quarrel had not been heard; the janitor she could hear on the floor above. After all, she had done no more than kill a snake.
The thought of the rope came to her. She knew about it, because once when she was in the office as Monteagle worked late she had expressed anxiety at being seen coming from the building with him, and he had showed her the rope and jokingly offered to let her down from the window, which opened upon a divisional alley143 in the rear of the Sutton building.
The rope was of great length. Seeking for a place to tie it, she naturally turned to the radiator. The thought occurred to her with a flash her means of escape from the room might never be known if the rope was long enough to run under the radiator, letting both ends to the ground. She could then draw it down after she reached the ground[Pg 174] by pulling on one end and letting it run under the radiator like a pulley. She tried the length, the light from the windows of the elevator shaft144, opening into the areaway, giving sufficient brightness.
“As part of the preparation for the future on the stage that Mr. Monteagle was to help me get,” she said, dispassionately, “I have taken gymnasium work to build up my system. You can see it was no extraordinary thing for me to let myself down by the double rope, pulling the window shut after I climbed out. I left it open enough so that the rope could run free when I pulled it after me. I threw the rope in a street garbage tin. I was at the theatre, remarkable as it may seem, in time for my act at ten o’clock, although I missed the first show. I have been in a daze145 since; I was in a trance after I did the stabbing. I have known I must be found out. I am glad that it is all over. I have made no attempt to escape. I am absolutely indifferent to my fate.”
The sister, recovered from her swoon, was weeping softly, her head bowed in the other’s lap.
“Tell me,” said Lanagan curiously to her, “why did you telephone to Monteagle?”
She gasped146, and it appeared for the moment that she was about to swoon again. Finally she faltered147, while her own sister looked at her strangely:
“I—was afraid sister meant him harm—I[Pg 175] didn’t think of it until I got home—and then something about her face came back to me—I wanted to warn Mr. Monteagle not to arouse her—I finally succeeded in getting him at his club before he left for his office and—he only laughed—”
“Yes,” said La Pattini bitterly, “he told me so—and laughed—and snapped his fingers when he spoke148 about you—that was just before he struck me ... and then I killed him.”
The sudden fresh sobs149 of the younger girl, smothered as they were in her sister’s lap, seemed to wrench150 her very being. Lanagan glanced at Leslie; Leslie averted151 his eyes. There was a prolonged pause, broken only by the agonised, stifled152 sobbing153, while she of crime threw her arms shelteringly around the weaker vessel154. But her own deathly calm she preserved.
Finally Leslie arose slowly and said simply:
“I am sorry. I have no recourse. My duty is clear.”
“So is mine,” said Lanagan quickly, “and it is this: I will guarantee you, Miss Northrup, the support of the Enquirer, and I will secure for you as counsel my personal friend, Mr. William Hadden, the ablest man in the West, to present your case to a jury in the proper manner to secure the acquittal that you are entitled to.”
It was then after one o’clock. We left Leslie at the house to bring the girl to the city prison after she had an opportunity of parting from her family. Leslie was to contrive155 not to book her before half-past[Pg 176] two to save our “exclusive.” By that time the Times and the Herald would be gone to press.
On our hurried trip to the office—where I took vast delight marching in on Sampson with a grin—Lanagan supplied me with the missing links. He spoke of finding a few strands156 from a manila rope sticking beneath the radiator and of his instant surmise157 as to the precise way in which the escape had been made. Monahan located Bartlett, Monteagle’s former chauffeur, who had taken a public stand, and from him learned of the rope that Monteagle had in his closet which Bartlett had bought. Lanagan knew from his careful search that the rope was not in the closet when he made his examination, and he promptly158 concluded that Miss Grace Northrup must have known who committed the crime. She knew the rope was there, according to Bartlett, and Lanagan rightly surmised159 that she must have known of its disappearance160.
Robbery not having been the motive161, Lanagan had “rapped” to the theory of a jealous or vengeful woman who had deliberately162 marred the features after death. His police experience had included a case or two where somewhat similar conditions had been present.
It was from Bartlett that the first tip came on La Pattini, although he did not know, and neither did Lanagan at that time, that she was the sister of Monteagle’s stenographer. All he knew was that until he left Monteagle’s employ she seemed[Pg 177] to be the favoured of the alliances that the broker secretly maintained.
Lanagan had discovered that La Pattini had missed her first show on Monday night, and the circumstance was sufficient to stir his suspicions, although it must be confessed that until the development at the home, where her relationship to Miss Northrup was disclosed, nothing positive had been secured against her. The moment the relationship was made clear, both Lanagan and the chief had instantly reached the same conclusion. The “drive” had been made and the confession followed.
“Great, Jack, great,” said Sampson with as much enthusiasm as his thin blood could support. “Gad! What a whaling we gave them! What a whaling!”
The Enquirer had smeared163 the story over three pages, breaking all make-up rules on type display. It was a clean exclusive in every detail.
“Well, Sampson,” replied Lanagan, “it isn’t much to be proud of at that. Only it’s all in our game. But I’ve given my promise and we’ve got to get that girl acquitted164.”
“That’s up to you,” said Sampson. “The paper’s yours.”
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1
enquirer
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| 寻问者，追究者 | |
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2
scowling
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| 怒视，生气地皱眉( scowl的现在分词 ) | |
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3
herald
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| vt.预示...的来临，预告，宣布，欢迎 | |
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4
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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5
warden
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| n.监察员，监狱长，看守人，监护人 | |
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6
condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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7
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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exquisite
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| adj.精美的；敏锐的；剧烈的，感觉强烈的 | |
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misery
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| n.痛苦，苦恼，苦难；悲惨的境遇，贫苦 | |
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10
solely
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| adv.仅仅，唯一地 | |
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11
contemplated
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| adj. 预期的 动词contemplate的过去分词形式 | |
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12
broiling
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| adj.酷热的，炽热的，似烧的v.（用火）烤（焙、炙等）( broil的现在分词 )；使卷入争吵；使混乱；被烤（或炙） | |
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13
broker
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| n.中间人，经纪人；v.作为中间人来安排 | |
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14
aged
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| adj.年老的，陈年的 | |
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15
curiously
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| adv.有求知欲地；好问地；奇特地 | |
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16
mar
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| vt.破坏，毁坏，弄糟 | |
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17
brokers
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| n.（股票、外币等）经纪人( broker的名词复数 )；中间人；代理商；（订合同的）中人v.做掮客（或中人等）( broker的第三人称单数 )；作为权力经纪人进行谈判；以中间人等身份安排… | |
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18
tenants
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| n.房客( tenant的名词复数 )；佃户；占用者；占有者 | |
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19
janitor
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| n.看门人，管门人 | |
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20
apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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21
clinching
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| v.（尤指两人）互相紧紧抱[扭]住( clinch的现在分词 )；解决（争端、交易），达成（协议） | |
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22
scooped
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| v.抢先报道( scoop的过去式和过去分词 )；（敏捷地）抱起；抢先获得；用铲[勺]等挖（洞等） | |
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23
zealousness
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| n.热心，热忱 | |
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24
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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25
mosaic
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| n./adj.镶嵌细工的，镶嵌工艺品的，嵌花式的 | |
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26
gash
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| v.深切，划开；n.(深长的)切(伤)口；裂缝 | |
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27
gashed
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| v.划伤，割破( gash的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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28
precisely
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| adv.恰好，正好，精确地，细致地 | |
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29
commendable
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| adj.值得称赞的 | |
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30
faculty
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| n.才能；学院，系；(学院或系的)全体教学人员 | |
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31
custody
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| n.监护，照看，羁押，拘留 | |
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32
disquieting
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| adj.令人不安的，令人不平静的v.使不安，使忧虑，使烦恼( disquiet的现在分词 ) | |
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33
ransom
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| n.赎金，赎身；v.赎回，解救 | |
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34
superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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35
relish
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| n.滋味，享受，爱好，调味品；vt.加调味料，享受，品味；vi.有滋味 | |
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36
grumbled
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| 抱怨( grumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 发牢骚； 咕哝； 发哼声 | |
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37
gulp
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| vt.吞咽，大口地吸（气）；vi.哽住；n.吞咽 | |
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38
instinctively
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| adv.本能地 | |
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39
lapse
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| n.过失，流逝，失效，抛弃信仰，间隔；vi.堕落，停止，失效，流逝；vt.使失效 | |
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40
dubs
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| v.给…起绰号( dub的第三人称单数 )；把…称为；配音；复制 | |
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41
rendezvous
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| n.约会，约会地点，汇合点；vi.汇合，集合；vt.使汇合，使在汇合地点相遇 | |
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42
clans
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| 宗族( clan的名词复数 )； 氏族； 庞大的家族； 宗派 | |
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43
wont
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| adj.习惯于；v.习惯；n.习惯 | |
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44
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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45
retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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46
savagely
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| adv. 野蛮地，残酷地 | |
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47
eminent
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| adj.显赫的，杰出的，有名的，优良的 | |
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48
jack
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| n.插座，千斤顶，男人；v.抬起，提醒，扛举；n.（Jake）杰克 | |
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49
worthy
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| adj.(of)值得的，配得上的；有价值的 | |
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50
vouchsafed
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| v.给予，赐予( vouchsafe的过去式和过去分词 )；允诺 | |
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51
timorous
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| adj.胆怯的，胆小的 | |
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52
trolley
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| n.手推车，台车；无轨电车；有轨电车 | |
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53
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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54
speculation
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| n.思索，沉思；猜测；投机 | |
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55
concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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56
janitors
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| n.看门人( janitor的名词复数 )；看管房屋的人；锅炉工 | |
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57
copper
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| n.铜；铜币；铜器；adj.铜(制)的；(紫)铜色的 | |
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58
invaluable
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| adj.无价的，非常宝贵的，极为贵重的 | |
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59
streak
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| n.条理，斑纹，倾向，少许，痕迹；v.加条纹，变成条纹，奔驰，快速移动 | |
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60
primal
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| adj.原始的；最重要的 | |
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61
champagne
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| n.香槟酒；微黄色 | |
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62
drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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63
neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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64
blackmail
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| n.讹诈，敲诈，勒索，胁迫，恫吓 | |
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65
brotherhood
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| n.兄弟般的关系，手中情谊 | |
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66
affiliations
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| n.联系( affiliation的名词复数 )；附属机构；亲和性；接纳 | |
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67
plausible
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| adj.似真实的，似乎有理的，似乎可信的 | |
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68
suave
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| adj.温和的；柔和的；文雅的 | |
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69
administrator
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| n.经营管理者，行政官员 | |
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70
stenographer
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| n.速记员 | |
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71
stylishly
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| adv.时髦地，新式地 | |
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72
penetrating
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| adj.（声音）响亮的，尖锐的adj.（气味）刺激的adj.（思想）敏锐的，有洞察力的 | |
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73
radiator
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| n.暖气片，散热器 | |
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74
facetiousness
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| n.滑稽 | |
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75
smoothly
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| adv.平滑地，顺利地，流利地，流畅地 | |
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76
cub
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| n.幼兽，年轻无经验的人 | |
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77
wielder
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| 行使者 | |
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78
supervisor
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| n.监督人，管理人，检查员，督学，主管，导师 | |
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79
primly
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| adv.循规蹈矩地，整洁地 | |
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80
smelt
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| v.熔解，熔炼；n.银白鱼，胡瓜鱼 | |
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81
recollect
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| v.回忆，想起，记起，忆起，记得 | |
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82
puffed
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| adj.疏松的v.使喷出( puff的过去式和过去分词 )；喷着汽（或烟）移动；吹嘘；吹捧 | |
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83
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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84
humbled
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| adj. 卑下的，谦逊的，粗陋的 vt. 使 ... 卑下，贬低 | |
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85
irritable
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| adj.急躁的；过敏的；易怒的 | |
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86
pharmacy
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| n.药房，药剂学，制药业，配药业，一批备用药品 | |
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87
dodged
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| v.闪躲( dodge的过去式和过去分词 )；回避 | |
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88
tinge
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| vt.(较淡)着色于，染色；使带有…气息；n.淡淡色彩，些微的气息 | |
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89
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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90
chuckled
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| 轻声地笑( chuckle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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91
furtive
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| adj.鬼鬼崇崇的，偷偷摸摸的 | |
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92
apropos
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| adv.恰好地；adj.恰当的；关于 | |
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93
acting
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| n.演戏，行为，假装；adj.代理的，临时的，演出用的 | |
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94
climax
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| n.顶点；高潮；v.(使)达到顶点 | |
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95
impersonal
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| adj.无个人感情的，与个人无关的，非人称的 | |
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96
oyster
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| n.牡蛎；沉默寡言的人 | |
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97
groaned
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| v.呻吟( groan的过去式和过去分词 )；发牢骚；抱怨；受苦 | |
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98
continental
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| adj.大陆的，大陆性的，欧洲大陆的 | |
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99
stereotyped
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| adj.(指形象、思想、人物等)模式化的 | |
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100
soloist
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| n.独奏者，独唱者 | |
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101
remarkable
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| adj.显著的，异常的，非凡的，值得注意的 | |
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102
vestige
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| n.痕迹，遗迹，残余 | |
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103
ordinance
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| n.法令；条令；条例 | |
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104
heinous
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| adj.可憎的，十恶不赦的 | |
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105
prerogative
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| n.特权 | |
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106
interfere
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| v.(in)干涉，干预；(with)妨碍，打扰 | |
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107
hieroglyphics
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| n.pl.象形文字 | |
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108
antiquated
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| adj.陈旧的，过时的 | |
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109
penal
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| adj.刑罚的；刑法上的 | |
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110
doorway
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| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
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111
dressing
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| n.(食物)调料；包扎伤口的用品，敷料 | |
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112
tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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113
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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114
jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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115
bosom
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| n.胸，胸部；胸怀；内心；adj.亲密的 | |
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116
breakdown
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| n.垮，衰竭；损坏，故障，倒塌 | |
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117
imminent
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| adj.即将发生的，临近的，逼近的 | |
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118
chauffeur
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| n.(受雇于私人或公司的)司机；v.为…开车 | |
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119
morbid
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| adj.病的；致病的；病态的；可怕的 | |
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120
ridiculed
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| v.嘲笑，嘲弄，奚落( ridicule的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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121
warding
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| 监护，守护（ward的现在分词形式） | |
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122
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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123
standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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124
nemesis
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| n.给以报应者，复仇者，难以对付的敌手 | |
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125
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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126
smothered
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| （使）窒息， （使）透不过气( smother的过去式和过去分词 )； 覆盖； 忍住； 抑制 | |
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127
sob
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| n.空间轨道的轰炸机；呜咽，哭泣 | |
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128
falteringly
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| 口吃地，支吾地 | |
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129
fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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harassed
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| adj. 疲倦的，厌烦的 动词harass的过去式和过去分词 | |
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131
chafing
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| n.皮肤发炎v.擦热（尤指皮肤）( chafe的现在分词 )；擦痛；发怒；惹怒 | |
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apathetically
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| adv.不露感情地；无动于衷地；不感兴趣地；冷淡地 | |
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133
sordid
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| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
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134
clandestine
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| adj.秘密的，暗中从事的 | |
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135
awakening
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| n.觉醒，醒悟 adj.觉醒中的；唤醒的 | |
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136
sinister
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| adj.不吉利的，凶恶的，左边的 | |
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137
jealousy
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| n.妒忌，嫉妒，猜忌 | |
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138
confession
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| n.自白，供认，承认 | |
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139
repudiated
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| v.（正式地）否认( repudiate的过去式和过去分词 )；拒绝接受；拒绝与…往来；拒不履行（法律义务） | |
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140
vindictiveness
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| 恶毒；怀恨在心 | |
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141
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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142
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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143
alley
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| n.小巷，胡同；小径，小路 | |
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144
shaft
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| n.(工具的)柄，杆状物 | |
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145
daze
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| v.(使)茫然，(使)发昏 | |
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gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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faltered
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| （嗓音）颤抖( falter的过去式和过去分词 )； 支吾其词； 蹒跚； 摇晃 | |
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148
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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149
sobs
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| 啜泣（声），呜咽（声）( sob的名词复数 ) | |
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wrench
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| v.猛拧；挣脱；使扭伤；n.扳手；痛苦，难受 | |
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151
averted
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| 防止，避免( avert的过去式和过去分词 )； 转移 | |
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152
stifled
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| （使）窒息， （使）窒闷( stifle的过去式和过去分词 )； 镇压，遏制； 堵 | |
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153
sobbing
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| <主方>Ⅰ adj.湿透的 | |
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154
vessel
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| n.船舶；容器，器皿；管，导管，血管 | |
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155
contrive
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| vt.谋划，策划；设法做到；设计，想出 | |
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156
strands
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| n.（线、绳、金属线、毛发等的）股( strand的名词复数 )；缕；海洋、湖或河的)岸；（观点、计划、故事等的）部份v.使滞留，使搁浅( strand的第三人称单数 ) | |
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157
surmise
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| v./n.猜想，推测 | |
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158
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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159
surmised
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| v.臆测，推断( surmise的过去式和过去分词 )；揣测；猜想 | |
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160
disappearance
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| n.消失，消散，失踪 | |
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161
motive
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| n.动机，目的；adv.发动的，运动的 | |
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162
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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163
smeared
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| 弄脏； 玷污； 涂抹； 擦上 | |
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164
acquitted
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| 宣判…无罪( acquit的过去式和过去分词 )； 使（自己）作出某种表现 | |
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