CHAPTER IVTHE INQUEST
Thedastardly murder created a tremendous sensation not only in Washington, but in every State of the Union as well. The Trevors were bombarded with telegrams and special delivery letters, and their house besieged by reporters.
Mrs. Macallister was right; all fashionable society turned out to attend the inquest, and fought and struggled for admittance, rubbing shoulders with the denizens of Southeast Washington and Anacostia as they pushed their way into the Trevor mansion.
The inquest was to be held in the library, the suite of rooms, comprising parlor, library and dining-room, having been thrown open to accommodate the public. A rope had been stretched in front of the office door and across the square staircase to keep the crowd withinbounds. Uniformed policemen stationed in the wide hall warned those whose curiosity caused them to linger about the room where the tragedy occurred, to “move on.”
Mrs. Macallister, true to her word, had arrived early, and she and Peggy had been given seats in the library. As she glanced about her, she caught the eye of Senator Phillips, who instantly rose and joined her.
“This is a terrible affair,” said the Senator, after they had exchanged greetings. “Beautiful Mrs. Trevor—so young—so fascinating!”
“It is indeed dreadful,” agreed Mrs. Macallister, with a slight shiver. “The idea of any woman coming to such an end makes my blood run cold. I cannot sleep at night thinking of it. Have you seen the Attorney General?”
“Yes. He sent for me; we were college chums, you know. I never saw such self-control. He is bearing up most bravely under the fearful shock.”
In the meantime, Peggy, sick at heart, was looking about her and thinking of the many handsome dinners, luncheons, and receptionsshe had attended in the Trevors’ beautiful home. When all was said and done, Mrs. Trevor had been an ideal hostess; for besides beauty, she had tact and social perception, and, therefore, had always steered clear of the social pitfalls which lie in wait for the feet of the unwary in Washington’s complex society. Only the night before the murder, Mrs. Trevor had given a large theater and supper party, and Peggy remembered that she had never seen her hostess appear more animated or more beautiful; and now—“In the midst of life we are in death”; the solemn words recurred to Peggy as she watched the coroner and the jury file into the room and seat themselves around the large table which had been brought in for their use.
To one side, representatives of the Associated Press and the local papers were busy with pad and pencil. Among the latter Peggy recognized Dick Tillinghast. Some telepathy seemed to tell him of her presence, for he turned and his eyes lighted with pleasure as he bowed gravely to her and Mrs. Macallister.
Senator Phillips and Mrs. Macallister were intently scanning the jury. They realized how much might depend upon their intelligence and good judgment. In this case the jurymen had apparently been selected from a higher stratum of life than usual, and Senator Phillips sighed with relief as he pointed to the men sitting at the end of the long table.
“Whydidthe Lord ever make four such ugly men?” he asked Mrs. Macallister, in a whisper.
“To show His power,” she answered, quickly.
All further remarks were cut short by Coroner Wilson swearing in the jury. Their foreman was then elected. All the witnesses were waiting in the small reception room to the right of the front door. Policemen guarded each entrance.
“Have you viewed the scene of the tragedy, and the body of the victim?” asked the coroner.
“We have, sir,” answered the foreman.
Then the coroner in a few words briefly stated the occasion for the hearing. The first witness summoned was Doctor Davis. Afterbeing duly sworn, he seated himself in the witness chair facing the jury. In a few clear words he stated that he had been telephoned for by Wilkins, and had come at once. On his arrival he had been shown into the private office.
“Please state to the jury the exact position in which you found Mrs. Trevor.”
“Mrs. Trevor was crouching on one knee directly inside the safe, with her left hand pressing against the door-jamb, so—” and he illustrated his statement. “From the condition of her body I judged she had been dead about eight or nine hours. The pupils of her open eyes were very much dilated.”
One of the jurymen leaned forward and opened his lips as if to speak, then drew back. The coroner noticed his hesitancy.
“Do you wish to question the witness?” he asked.
“I—I,” he was obviously confused by the attention drawn to him. “Doctor, I always thought that when people died their eyes shut up.”
“On the contrary,” answered Doctor Davis,dryly. “Their eyes usually have to be closed by the undertaker.”
“Did you order the body removed, Doctor?” asked the coroner, resuming the examination.
“Yes. I thought that Mrs. Trevor had been asphyxiated in the air-tight safe. It was not until her clothes had been removed that I discovered the small wound a little to one side under her left breast. At the post-mortem we found no other cause for death, Mrs. Trevor having been perfectly sound physically and mentally.”
“Were there no blood stains?”
“None. The weapon, which pierced the heart, was broken off in the wound preventing any outward flow of blood. She bled internally. Death was probably instantaneous.”
“Have you the weapon?”
“Yes. I probed the wound in the presence of the deputy-coroner and Doctor Wells. Here it is.”
There was instant craning of necks to see the small object which Doctor Davis took out of his pocket. It was a piece of sharp-pointed steelabout four inches long. The coroner passed it over to the jury, then continued his questions.
“Could the wound have been self-inflicted?”
“Impossible, unless the victim was left-handed.”
“Now, Doctor, what kind of a weapon do you think this point belongs to?”
“Well—” the doctor hesitated a moment—“I don’t think it could be called a weapon in the usual sense of the word. To me it looks like the end of a hat-pin.”
His words caused a genuine sensation. A hat-pin! Men and women looked at each other. What a weapon for a burglar to use!
“Could so frail an article as a hat-pin penetrate through dress, corset and underclothes?” asked the coroner, incredulously.
“Mrs. Trevor wore no corsets. In place of them she had on an elastic girdle which fitted perfectly her slender, supple figure.”
The coroner asked a few more questions, then the doctor was dismissed. The next to take the stand was the deputy-coroner. His testimony simply corroborated that of Doctor Davis inevery particular. As he left the witness chair, the clerk summoned Alfred Clark.
“Your name?” asked the coroner, after the usual preliminaries had been gone through with.
“Alfred Lindsay Clark.”
“Occupation?”
“Confidential secretary to the Attorney General.”
“How long have you been in his employ?”
“Eleven months.”
“And before that time?”
“I was a clerk in the Department of Justice for over two years, in fact, ever since I have resided in this city.”
“Then you are not a native of Washington?”
“No. My father was in the Consular Service. At the time of my birth, he was vice consul at Naples, and I was born in that city. I lived abroad until two years and a half ago.”
“You were the first to find Mrs. Trevor, were you not?”
“Yes. I always reach here at eight o’clockto sort and arrange the mail for the Attorney General. He breakfasts at that time, and usually joins me in the private office twenty minutes later. At five minutes of nine we leave for the Department. This is the everyday routine—” he hesitated.
“And yesterday, Mr. Clark?”
“I arrived a few minutes earlier than usual, as there were some notes which I had to transcribe before the Attorney General left for the Department. I went immediately to the office.”
“Did you notice any signs of confusion, or unusual disturbance in the room?”
“No. Everything was apparently just as I had left it the night before. I started to typewrite my notes but had not proceeded very far when I found I needed to refer to some papers which were in the safe. So I went....”
“One moment. You know the combination?”
“Certainly. It is one of my duties to open the safe every morning, and lock it the last thing at night.”
“Did you find the safe just the same as when you left the night before?”
“Exactly the same. Apparently the lock had not been tampered with.”
“Proceed.”
Clark spoke with a visible effort. “I unlocked the safe and pulled open the door and found—” his voice broke. “At first I could not believe the evidences of my senses. I put out my hand and touched Mrs. Trevor. Then, and then only, did I appreciate that she was dead. In unspeakable horror I ran out of the room to summon aid.”
“What led you to think she was murdered? Doctor Davis did not know it until much later.”
“I beg your pardon. I had no idea Mrs. Trevor was murdered.”
“Then, why did you cry ‘Murder’ as you ran along?”
“I have no recollection of raising such a cry. But I was half out of my senses with the shock, and did not know what I was doing.”
Clark’s handsome face had turned a shadepaler, and he moistened his lips nervously. Mrs. Macallister noticed his agitation, and gave vent to her feelings by pinching Peggy’s arm.
“Was Mrs. Trevor facing you?”
“Yes. She was crouching on one knee, her left hand extended.”
“Could two people stand in the safe at the same time.”
“Side by side, yes; but not one in front of the other. The safe, which really resembles a small vault, is shallow but wide. The back of it is filled with filing cases. In fact, Mrs. Trevor’s body was wedged in between the cases and the narrow door-jamb. It was probably owing to this that she remained in such a peculiar position.”
“Was her head sunk forward on her breast?”
“No; on the contrary, it was thrown back and she was looking up, so that I, standing, looked directly down into her eyes.”
“Did you touch or move anything in the vault before summoning aid?”
There was a barely perceptible pause before the secretary answered.
“No, sir; nothing.”
“Did you see much of Mrs. Trevor?”
“No. She came but seldom to the office during the day.”
“Do you mean that it was her habit to go there often at night?”
“As to that, I cannot say, because I am not with the Attorney General at night unless some special work has to be done.”
At that moment a note was handed to the coroner. He read it twice; then addressed the secretary, saying:
“I think that is all just now.”
Clark bowed and retired. Coroner Wilson turned and addressed the jury.
“I have just received a note from the Chief of Police. He says that his prisoner, the burglar who was captured after leaving these premises, has asked to be allowed to make a statement before this jury. Therefore he has been sent here under guard. Up to the present time he has stubbornly refused to answer anyquestions, although every influence has been brought to hear to make him speak. I expected to call him later, anyway.”
The coroner’s remarks were interrupted by the entrance of the guard with their prisoner. He was of medium height, and insignificant enough in appearance save for his small, piercing blue eyes. His abundant red hair was plastered down on his round, bullet-shaped head, and his numerous freckles showed up plainly against the pallor of his face.
“Swear the prisoner,” ordered the coroner.
The clerk rose and stepped up to the man. “Place your hand on this book and say after me: ‘I, John Smith—’”
“Hold on; my name’s William Nelson. T’other one I just used to blind the cops, see?”
“I, William Nelson, do solemnly swear—” The singsong voice of the clerk, and the heavier bass of the prisoner seemed interminable to Peggy, whose nerves were getting beyond her control. She wished he would get through his confession quickly. It was awful sitting incallous judgment on a human being, no matter how guilty he might be.
“Now, William Nelson, alias John Smith,” said the coroner, sternly, “I am told you have volunteered to confess—”
“Nix, no confession,” interrupted Nelson. “Just an account of how I came to get mixed up in this deal.”
“Well, remember you are on oath, and that every word will be used against you.”
The prisoner nodded, cleared his throat, then spoke clearly and with deliberation.
“I came to Washington just to get certain papers. We knew those papers were kept in the Attorney General’s private safe. I used to be a messenger at the Department of Justice, and knew this house well, as I often brought papers to the Attorney General in his private office here. I had my kit with me, and broke in by way of the window over the pantry. The safe is an old one, and I found the combination easy. But, though I crack safes—by God! I am no murderer! When I opened that door I found the lady there—dead!” The man rose.“I know no more than you who killed her, so help me God!”
Nelson’s deep voice, vibrating with intense feeling, carried conviction. There was no doubting the effect his words had upon the jury and the spectators.
“I ain’t no coward, but the sight of that figure crouching there, and I looking down into her dead eyes, struck cold to my marrow bones. I ain’t been able to sleep since,” and the prisoner’s hand shook as he wiped the beads of perspiration off his forehead.
“Quite a dramatic story,” said the coroner, dryly. “And the proof?”
The prisoner struck the table fiercely with his clenched hand.
“Go ask the men who hired me to come here and steal the papers showing the attitude the Attorney General and the Department of Justice would take against the Fairbanks railroad combine. Ask those who wanted to get the news first, before it was given out to the public.”
“Do you think they would incriminate themselvesby admitting such a rascally piece of business?”
“Perhaps not,” sullenly, “but I’ll make them.”
“Secondly, the motive of your presence here does not clear you of the suspicion of being the murderer. Did you get the papers?”
“No. When I saw that dead body I stopped for nothing. You don’t believe me, but I’ve told you God’s truth. I don’t mind doing time for house-breaking; but I ain’t hankering for the electric chair.”
The coroner rose abruptly and signaled to the guards.
“You will be summoned again, Nelson,” he said, and as the guards closed about the prisoner, he announced that the hearing was adjourned until one o’clock that afternoon.