The Key to the Mystery.
The most puzzling case upon which I ever worked was that of the murder of John Long. The facts are briefly these: Mr. Long, a wealthy, retired merchant, living at the home of his nephew, failed to answer the dinner-bell one day. He was a man who always prided himself upon his punctuality, and his failure to appear at dinner at the usual hour caused no little surprise. A messenger was sent to his room to call him. No response came to repeated knocks upon his chamber door. The door was locked. Fearful that something had happened to him, Mr. Brant—the old gentleman’s nephew—set about breaking down the door. This was no easy task, as the door was made of oak and fastened by a ponderous lock and large brass hinges. After considerable effort the door yielded to theirblows and fell in. A horrible sight met the gaze of the anxious family. Mr. Long lay across the bed, cold and still in death, with his throat cut from ear to ear.
Had the old man been murdered? If so, how had the murderer entered the room? The old man was known always to keep his door locked. Besides, there did not appear to be anything missing. If it was a case of suicide, what had become of the implement with which the deed had been done? It was nowhere to be found. The old man always seemed in the best of spirits, and had every thing to live for.
If not suicide, then it was, of course, murder. Who, then, was the murderer?
It was my good fortune to be assigned to work up the case. I say good fortune because I like a difficult job, the more difficult the better, and this was one of the most difficult of all I had ever undertaken.
I examined the premises, and questioned the family and the servants in order to learn all I could about the murdered man, his habits, his financial affairs, etc. In particular I examined the room in which the foul murder had been committed. One of the windows was partially opened. This suggested the theory that the murderer might have gained access to the room by means of the window, but it was impossible for him to have done this in broad daylight, and the window was over 20 feet from the ground.
One of those who seemed most eager tobelieve that Mr. Long had committed suicide was Thomas Brant, a scapegrace nephew of the old man.
“If he committed suicide,” said I, “where is the implement with which he did the deed?”
“Perhaps he used his razor and then threw it out of the window,” suggested Thomas.
“Impossible. The jugular vein was cut and death must have been almost instantaneous.”
Nevertheless, I examined the grass under the window (which opened over the orchard) and found the old man’s razor. There was, however, no blood upon it.
The most peculiar thing in the room was the lock on the door and the key belonging to it. It was a large lock, much larger than those made at the present time, and the key was a large, heavy, brass one weighing several pounds. I was informed that this lock had done duty in the door of the store in which Mr. Long started in business, and when the building was demolished, Mr. Long preserved the lock and key (which, by the way, he had designed himself). Furthermore, as soon as he entered his room it was his custom to lock his door, remove the key from the lock and hang it upon a nail on the wall. Here it had been found on the day of the murder. There was believed to be but one such key in existence. I believed otherwise, and made a tour of all the lock-smith’s shops in the city in order to verify my suspicions. At last my search was rewarded. I found one who admitted,although at first unwilling to do so, that he had made a key similar to the one I carried. He had made it for a young man who answered to the description of Thomas Brant. This much gained, the next step was to connect Brant with the murder of his uncle. This was soon done. Brant was sent to prison for life, as it was not proved that he had entered his uncle’s room for the purpose of murder, but simply of robbery.