CHAPTER IX
“SHOW THE GENTLEMAN OUT”
INSTEAD of replying to this veiled and rather insolent defense, Bernard chose to hold his peace. He remained hunched down in his chair and resumed his unwavering stare at the butler. Stimson continued to support it with unruffled and somber equanimity.
Landis picked up the thread of his questioning:
“Have you seen that Japanese bow anywhere else at all except there at the end of the library, Stimson?”
“No, sir.”
“At any time?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you seen anyone near it or touching it in this room, or appearing interested in it?”
“Late one evening ten days ago or more, Mr. Joel examined it. I believe he strung it. But Mr. Harrison came in and requested him to replace it and he did so.”
“No one else?”
“No, sir.”
“Have you seen or heard anyone shooting on the third floor with a bow and arrow at any time recently?”
“Early this week the young ladies and gentlemen were shooting up there—the day it rained. That was Tuesday. I know of no other occasion.”
“Do you happen to know whether it was a new or a used target they set up on the third floor on Tuesday?”
“It was a new one. I helped Mr. Joel carry it up.”
Landis turned to Bernard.
“The shot I spoke of upstairs was fired after the others. It has pushed the material of the target into an old dent. If the target was new, then that arrow was fired since Tuesday.”
In the middle of his speech he glanced at Stimson. The butler remained politely attentive.
“Pardon, sir. Do you mean the hole that passes entirely through the target?”
Landis managed to conceal his surprise.
“Yes. Do you know anything about it, Stimson?”
“No, sir. I happened to notice it and was astonished. The target is quite thick.”
“When did you notice it?” asked Landis quickly.
“Last night, sir, just before I came down to lay out Mr. Harrison’s evening things. About six that would be.”
“How did you happen to notice it, Stimson?”
“One of the lights shone through it on the floor, sir. I noticed that and looked to see where it came from.”
“What were you doing near the target?” asked Bernard.
“I pass it on my way to the back stairs, sir.”
“Yes,” said Landis. “I see. Now, Stimson, please tell us what you can about what happened just before and just after the murder tonight. I want to know where you were from six o’clock on and what you know about the location of the other members of the household from that time until seven-thirty.”
The butler leaned back in his chair and folded his arms.
“I was reading in my sitting-room this afternoon. It was just six when I laid my book aside and changed into my evening clothes for dinner. About six-fifteen I came down to Mr. Harrison’s room to lay out his things as usual.”
“What route did you follow?” inquired Bernard.
“I came down the back stairs, through the front hall on the second floor and along the balcony on this side to his room, which is above the room where he died.”
“All right. Go on.”
“I had just finished laying out his things when Mr. Harrison returned. I ran his bath and came down to this floor to select the necessary silver for dinner.”
“See anybody besides Mr. Harrison during that time?”
“No, sir; no one. I was still in the pantry when I heard the young ladies and their guests return.”
“Heard them?” snapped Bernard.
“Yes, sir. The door from the butler’s pantry into the back hall was open.”
“You didn’t see them?” asked Landis.
“No, sir. The swing door from the back hall into the hall beyond prevented my seeing them.”
“Where had they been, do you know?”
“They spoke of a dance at the yacht club and the young ladies arranged to drive them all in their two cars.”
“When did you hear this?” asked Bernard.
“At luncheon, sir, today.”
“Was everyone at home for lunch today?”
“Mr. Harrison was in town and Mr. Joel did not come in for luncheon. The others were here.”
“Oh! Where was Mr. Joel this noon?”
“I don’t know, sir. I haven’t seen him since breakfast.”
“Did you happen to hear him come home tonight?”
“No, sir. I did not.”
“Through what door did the girls and the others enter the house tonight?”
“Through the door at the end of the wing, I suppose, or the door into the billiard-room from the sunken garden. I heard them come into the large rear hall and thence into the front hall. That’s as I judged by ear, sir.”
“Couldn’t they have come into the back hall from the library?” asked Landis.
“Hardly, sir. That would mean they entered the house through the front door. I would have heard them through the dining-room. And that would be a long way round, sir.”
“Why, so it would,” said Landis. “Now what did you gather from what you heard? Who came first and so on?”
“I believe the two young ladies came in first with Mr. Russell and Mr. Allen. Miss Isabelle and Miss Anita went through to the front hall and up the front stairs. The young gentlemen came with them as far as the hall and then, I think, turned back to their rooms in the wing. A moment or so later I heard Mr. and Mrs. Graham come in and follow the young ladies upstairs. They were quite animated.”
“And after that, Stimson?” asked Landis.
“I was in and out between the kitchen, the pantry and the dining-room until just before seven-thirty, when Susan took in the cocktail glasses. I followed her with the cocktails.”
“Wait a bit,” Bernard interjected. “Tell us who you saw or heard anywhere in the house during that time.”
“Well, sir, Mabel Harley, our cook, was in the kitchen when I came downstairs and remained there all through. Susan Duckworth was in the kitchen, too, when I came down. She always helps with the dinner. Helen Stokes came down and remained in the kitchen until Mr. Graham’s bell rang. Helen answered it and I did not see her again until after the murder.”
“She remained to help Mrs. Graham dress quickly?”
“So I believe, sir. Of course Harley, our chauffeur, entered the house during that time, too.”
“At what time? Do you know, Stimson?”
“I believe he came into the kitchen about seven o’clock, sir. He was on his way to his room to wash up.”
“Took him from six-twenty to seven to put the car away, did it?” growled Bernard.
“Hardly, sir,” said the butler, unruffled. “As a rule I believe he wipes off the big car as soon as he gets home in the evening, in case it might be wanted after dinner. He acts as gardener too, since Mr. Harrison has been going in to town so seldom. He may have set the sprinklers or something of the sort, before he came in.”
Bernard nodded.
“See anyone else at all?”
“I think not, sir.” The butler paused reflectively, then shook his head. “No one except Miss Anita.”
“You mean you saw Anita Harrison between six-thirty and seven-thirty, Stimson?” Landis asked.
“Why yes, sir, a few minutes after Harley came in—”
“Exactly what time did you see her?” snapped Bernard.
“I did not happen to look at a clock,” retorted the butler evenly. “It was about seven-five or seven-ten, I should judge. She came down the back stairs and went through toward the billiard-room. Sometimes she knocks the balls about in there until the gong sounds, if she is down early.”
Bernard sat up.
“Except Miss Anita!” he thundered. “So it doesn’t strike you as important that she should be in the billiard-room, so close to the library, when her father was shot from that end of the library, eh?”
“I don’t remember your requesting me to tell you what I considered important, sir,” the butler replied.
Bernard studied the man for a moment, his face expressionless.
“Then you do consider it important?”
Into Stimson’s impassive countenance came a look of reserved respect, as though deep called to deep.
“That would depend, sir,” he said, “on whether Miss Anita actually went to the billiard-room. I only saw her go in that direction. If she did go to the billiard-room, it would depend, also, on how long she stayed there, I should suppose, sir.”
“Excellent reasoning,” Bernard complimented him dryly. “But I want to know where she did go and where she was until seven-thirty.”
“That I don’t know, sir.”
Bernard nodded and looked at Landis, who again took up the thread of questioning.
“You saw no one else, Stimson, up to the time you took in the cocktails?” he asked.
“Of course Miss Mount was in and out of the kitchen and dining-room as usual.”
“Oh, she was!”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right. Tell us what happened after you entered the room where Harrison now lies.”
“I found Miss Mount in the reception-room, sir, set down the cocktail shaker, mentioned to her that dinner was ready and returned through the front hall to the dining-room when the gong sounded. Satisfied with the table, sir, I started for the pantry when I heard a very loud shriek. I hurried into the hall. There I heard Susan Duckworth’s voice. She was crying, ‘Oh! Oh! Oh!’ and sounded hysterical. My first thought was that she had hurt herself and I hurried into the reception-room to find Mr. Harrison on his back on the floor and Miss Mount bending over him. I started forward to help Mr. Harrison up, but Miss Mount indicated Susan and asked me to quiet her. Then she hurried into the library here. I shook Susan by the arm in the hope of bringing her to her senses. But it was of no avail. Mr. Harrison was not a pleasant sight.”
“Did you do anything else or see anyone just then?”
“No, sir. I saw no one except Susan. Then Miss Isabelle ran in and saw her father. She shrieked and fell in a faint. I left Susan and hurried to help Miss Isabelle. Miss Mount returned and sent me for some water and a napkin to bring Miss Isabelle back to her senses. As I entered the front hall Miss Anita hurried up and passed me.”
“Did you see her face?”
“Yes, sir, for an instant.”
“How did she look?” asked Landis quietly.
Stimson hesitated.
“She looked anxious and excited. I suppose the screaming startled her severely.”
“From what direction was she coming?”
“From the front stairs, I thought.”
“I see. Then what?”
“I came back with a wet napkin and some water and found Mr. Russell with Miss Isabelle. We tried to revive her, but in vain. Finally he picked her up and carried her upstairs, I believe.”
“Who was in the front room at that time, Stimson?”
“Miss Anita and Mr. Allen. Mrs. Graham and Helen Stokes were there and Miss Mount. I think that’s all, except, of course, Miss Isabelle and Mr. Russell.”
“What did you do after Russell took Isabelle Harrison up to her room, Stimson?”
“I went back to try and quiet Susan who was still carrying on. Then Mr. Graham came in, Miss Mount explained matters to him and at his suggestion she asked me to take Susan and Helen Stokes to the kitchen, where Cook and I brought Susan round.” Stimson smiled slightly. “Cook pinched her, I believe,” he added.
“Where were you and what else did you see up to the time we arrived tonight?” asked Bernard suddenly.
“I stayed in the kitchen for some time. There were three trays to go upstairs, for the two young ladies and Miss Mount. A little later I tried to close the windows in the library but the sergeant refused me admittance. I also kept going to the front door to admit the police, the doctor and the coroner. In the meantime we were serving dinner to Mrs. Graham and Mr. Russell and Mr. Allen, which kept me busy.”
“When did Mr. Graham eat his dinner?”
“He had something in the dining-room, sir, after the others had finished.”
“He was pretty busy, too,” smiled Landis. “Has Harrison quarreled with anyone recently, Stimson?”
The butler hesitated.
“He was rather given to quarreling, though not with the domestic staff as a rule.”
“Tell us the most recent instance, will you?”
“Three or four days ago, Wednesday, I believe, I happened to hear Mr. Harrison’s voice raised. The bell rang and I hurried into the library to find Mr. Harrison at his desk and Mr. Allen standing. Mr. Harrison—”
“How did they look!” snapped Bernard.
“Mr. Harrison was red in the face but he was laughing in a way. Mr. Allen looked a bit pale, I thought.”
“Did Allen look angry?”
“Well, he didn’t look pleased, sir.”
“Don’t quibble!” growled Bernard. “Was he angry?”
“I think he was, sir, though he did not show it to any great extent. Mr. Harrison said: ‘Show the gentleman out, Stimson!’ I said: ‘Out of the house, sir?’ Then Mr. Harrison laughed again and said: ‘No, no, out of the room, Stimson. Mr. Allen is welcome to stay here as long as he likes!’”
“You mean he became cordial suddenly?”
“No, sir. I didn’t like the way he said it and I do not think Mr. Allen liked it. But he went quietly out of the library without saying anything further.”
“You didn’t hear him say anything at all, then?”
“No, sir.”
“Do you know what they were quarreling about?”
“No, sir. I did not catch Mr. Harrison’s words.”
“Any other quarrels, Stimson?” inquired Bernard.
“No, sir. Nothing that could apply.”
Bernard frowned.
“Don’t leave out anything!” he ordered. “We’ll judge of whether it applies or not.”
Stimson stirred uneasily, the first sign of discomfort that he had shown.
“Well, sir, Miss Mount was away from the house all day Thursday and returned about seven, looking very tired. When I brought the cocktails into the reception-room that night about seven-thirty I heard Mr. Harrison shouting at her in the library. The end door was closed and I neither listened nor caught what he said. Then Miss Mount came into the front room looking very much upset and I hastened to pour her a cocktail. That was all, sir.”
“What makes you so sure that doesn’t apply?”
“Miss Mount has been a member of the household for many years; longer than I have. I came here ten years ago. There have been other high words more than once between him and Miss Mount. As these were nothing unusual I judged they had nothing to do with the case, sir.”
“Seems reasonable. Have you seen them together since that quarrel at all?” Landis inquired.
Stimson thought a moment.
“No, sir, I don’t believe I have happened to see them together, except at meals, when he sat at the head of the table and she at the foot.”
“Did they appear on good terms at meals, afterwards?”
“I’m afraid I didn’t notice, sir. They did not appear on bad terms, at all events.”
“You were fond of Harrison? His death upset you?” suggested Bernard benignly.
Stimson compressed his lips.
“It was a shock to me!”
“Nothing more than a shock?” Bernard persisted.
“Mr. Harrison was a generous employer. But he was not a gentleman likely to endear himself to those about him, sir.”
Bernard’s face softened and grew very kind.
“In fact, you hated him, eh?”
The butler’s dark eyes did not waver. Both Landis and Bernard saw the smoldering fire that crept into them.
“Yes, sir,” Stimson nodded slowly, “I did.”
“So you shot him,” murmured Bernard.
Stimson shook his head as slowly. “No, sir. I did not shoot him,” he replied.
“But you know who did!” thundered Bernard.
“No, I do not, sir!”
Again Bernard’s tone changed.
“Who else hated him then, Stimson?” he asked gently.
“That I don’t know, sir. He was not popular among the domestic staff. But I hardly think the others disliked him as much as I did.”
“What about Harley, the chauffeur?”
“Harley is a fine fellow, sir. He has a more forgiving nature than mine. Mr. Harrison irritated and angered him often. But he is well paid and soon forgot.”
“Which leaves you with the strongest motive to kill him,” Bernard pointed out.
“Possibly it does, sir. But I did not kill him,” replied the butler quietly.