Final Proof: or, The Value of Evidence. Ottolengui Rodrigues

Чтение книги онлайн.

Читать онлайн книгу Final Proof: or, The Value of Evidence - Ottolengui Rodrigues страница 16

Final Proof: or, The Value of Evidence - Ottolengui Rodrigues

Скачать книгу

in relation to the occurrences on the day and evening preceding the funeral," said Mr. Barnes, pursuing the conversation, hoping to catch from the answers some clue that might aid him.

      "Which funeral?" said Mr. Quadrant.

      "The first. I have been told that you and your brother were present when the widow last viewed the face of her husband, and that at that time, about five o'clock, you jointly agreed that the coffin should not be opened again. Is this true?"

      "Accurate in every detail."

      "Was the coffin closed at once? That is, before you left the room?"

      "The lower part of the coffin-top was, of course, in place and screwed fast when we entered the room. The upper part, exposing the face, was open. It was this that was closed in my presence."

      "I would like to get the facts here very accurately, if you are willing. You say, closed in your presence. Do you mean merely covered, or was the top screwed fast before you went out of the room, and, if so, by whom?"

      "Mark took our sister away, but Dr. Mortimer and myself remained until the screws were put in. Mr. Berial himself did that."

      "Did you observe that the screws were odd? Different from common screws?"

      Mr. Barnes hoped that the other man would betray something at this point, but he answered quite composedly:

      "I think I did at the time, but I could not describe them to you now. I half remember that Mr. Berial made some such comment as 'No one can get these out again without my permission.'"

      "Ah! He said that, did he? Yet some one must have gotten those screws out, for, if your identification was correct, your brother's body was taken out of that casket after the undertaker had put in those screws, which he said could not be removed without his permission. How do you suppose that was accomplished?"

      "How should I know, Mr. Barnes, unless, indeed, I did it myself, or instigated or connived at the doing? In either case, do you suppose I would give you any information on such a point?"

      "Did your brother Rufus have any rings on his fingers when placed in the coffin?" asked Mr. Barnes, swiftly changing the subject.

      "Yes – three: a diamond, a ruby, and a ring bearing his initial set in diamonds."

      "These rings were not on the body at the Morgue."

      "Neither was that scar," said Mr. Quadrant, with a suppressed laugh.

      "But this is different," said Mr. Barnes. "I did not find the scar, but I have found the rings."

      "Very clever of you, I am sure. But what does that prove?"

      "It proves that your brother's body was taken from the coffin before the coffin was placed in the crematory furnace."

      "Illogical and inaccurate," said Mr. Quadrant. "You prove by the recovery of the rings, merely that the rings were taken from the coffin."

      "Or, from the body after it was taken out," interjected Mr. Barnes.

      "In either case it is of no consequence. You have rooted up a theft, that is all. Catch the thief and jail him, if you like. I care nothing about that. It is the affair of my brother's death and burial that I wish to see dropped by the inquisitive public."

      "Yes, but suppose I tell you that the theory is that the man who stole the rings was your accomplice in the main matter? Don't you see that when we catch him, he is apt to tell all that he knows?"

      "When you catch him? Then you have not caught him yet. For so much I am grateful." He did not seem to care how incriminating his words might sound.

      "One thing more, Mr. Quadrant. I understand that you retired at about ten o'clock on that night – the night prior to the first funeral, I mean. You left your brother Mark down here?"

      "Yes."

      "Later you came downstairs again."

      "You seem to be well posted as to my movements."

      "Not so well as I wish to be. Will you tell me why you came down?"

      "I have not admitted that I came downstairs."

      "You were seen in the hall very late at night, or early in the morning. You took the lamp out of the room where the casket was, and came in here and looked at your brother, who was asleep. Then you returned the lamp and went upstairs. Do you admit now that you had just come downstairs?"

      "I admit nothing. But to show you how little you can prove, suppose I ask you how you know that I had just come downstairs? Why may it not be that I had been out of the house, and had just come in again when your informant saw me?"

      "Quite true. You might have left the house. Perhaps it was then that the body was taken away?"

      "If it was taken away, that was certainly as good a time as any."

      "What time?"

      "Oh, let us say between twelve and two. Very few people would be about the street at that hour, and a wagon stopping before a door would attract very little attention. Especially if it were an undertaker's wagon."

      "An undertaker's wagon?" exclaimed Mr. Barnes, as this suggested a new possibility.

      "Why, yes. If, as you say, there was an accomplice in this case, the fellow who stole the rings, you know, he must have been one of the undertaker's men. If so, he would use their wagon, would he not?"

      "I think he would," said Mr. Barnes sharply. "I thank you for the point. And now I will leave you."

IX

      Mr. Barnes walked rapidly, revolving in his mind the new ideas which had entered it during the past few minutes. Before this morning he had imagined that the body of Rufus Quadrant had been taken away between five and six o'clock, in the undertaker's wagon. But it had never occurred to him that this same wagon could have been driven back to the house at any hour of the day or night, without causing the policeman on that beat to suspect any wrong. Thus, suddenly, an entirely new phase had been placed upon the situation. Before, he had been interested in knowing which man had been left behind; whether it had been Morgan or Randal. Now he was more anxious to know whether the wagon had been taken again from the stable on that night, and, if so, by whom. Consequently he went first to the undertaker's shop, intending to interview Mr. Berial, but that gentleman was out. Therefore he spoke again with Randal, who recognized him at once and greeted him cordially.

      "Why, how do you do," said he. "Glad you're round again. Anything turned up in the Quadrant case?"

      "We are getting at the truth slowly," said the detective, watching his man closely. "I would like to ask you to explain one or two things to me if you can."

      "Maybe I will, and maybe not. It wouldn't do to promise to answer questions before I hear what they are. I ain't exactly what you would call a fool."

      "Did you not tell me that it was Morgan who was left at the house after the coffin was closed, and that you came away with Mr. Berial?"

      "Don't remember whether I told you or not. But you've got it straight."

      "But they say at the stables that it was you who drove the wagon back there?"

      "That's right, too. What of it?"

      "But

Скачать книгу