CHAPTER XIV
THE MISSES HARRISON
LANDIS walked to the hanging Japanese gongs and tapped a scale on their inverted bowls, his touch soft and funereal to suit the occasion. The door of Isabelle Harrison’s bedroom opened and Miss Mount appeared upon the balcony above. At the same moment Anita Harrison opened her door and they saw her near the head of the stairs.
Bernard, a great believer in first impressions, took stock of Anita. Miss Mount ignored him and addressed Landis.
“You wanted me?” she inquired evenly.
“We’d like a few words with one of the young ladies, please. Sorry it’s necessary. We won’t keep her long.”
“This is Miss Anita Harrison,” said Miss Mount.
The girl swung around the stairhead and swiftly descended, her short skirt fluttering about her pretty knees. Half way down she slackened to a more dignified pace, her attractive dark eyes on Landis. At the foot she halted and looked up from one to the other, a hint of feminine challenge in her manner.
“Well?” she asked.
“We’ll invite you into your own drawing-room,” said Landis pleasantly.
Anita flashed a glance at him and entered the library, swaying her slim body just a trifle more than seemed necessary. She selected a comfortable chair and crossed her legs, making it almost impossible not to observe that her green chiffon stockings were rolled above her knees. As they found places facing her she brushed her skirt down a little and leaned back with a smile of faint amusement.
Though they knew her to be over twenty-one, she seemed the very latest in flappers, alluringly pretty, a little hard, scantily and revealingly clad in a low-cut evening dress of clinging green satin, bobbed and skilfully made up and with all the calculated daring of her type.
Unimpressed, though willing to let her think otherwise, Landis studied her intently. Back of her surface charm he saw that her features were a trifle heavy and would probably grow heavier. Behind her challenging manner he sensed a trace of nervousness. He stole a swift glance at Bernard to find him studying Anita’s hands. At the same instant she looked from Landis to his companion and with a little moue of annoyance snatched her hands behind her. But Landis had time to see that the slim, beautifully manicured fingers were trembling.
“Well?” she demanded petulantly, “did you call me down here to stare at me? Of course I’m frightened—with Dad and everything! Of course my hands are shaking!”
“Of course,” Landis agreed gently. “Miss Harrison, did you lock the door at the end of the wing tonight?”
Her dark eyes widened.
“Did I—No! Certainly not!”
“Did you close the door at the back of the library?”
“No, I didn’t!”
“Was that door closed when you came home this afternoon?”
“I think so, I didn’t really notice.”
“You’ve noticed the Japanese bow at the end of the library, haven’t you?”
“No!—I mean, yes, of course I have!”
“Have you seen it anywhere else in the house lately?”
“No, I haven’t, Mr. ——”
“Landis. Have you seen or heard anyone shooting with a bow and arrow on the third floor since last Tuesday?”
“No, Mr. Landis, I haven’t,” she answered readily, her manner calming a little.
“Have you the faintest idea who murdered your father?” he persisted monotonously.
“Of—of course not! How could I?”
“Will you be kind enough to tell us where you were from six-thirty this evening until after the murder?”
“You don’t suspect me, do you?”
“It’s rather important, Miss Harrison.”
“Well, then, I was in my room!”
“The entire time?”
“Yes. I didn’t go downstairs until I heard Susan scream. I came down right behind my sister.”
“So you can’t tell us anything about the movements of others in the household?”
“I’m afraid not, Mr. Landis,” she smiled.
“But you heard Susan scream and went downstairs?”
“I’ve just told you so.”
“Where were you when you heard Susan scream?”
“I—why, I was in my bedroom, of course!”
“How did you get downstairs when you heard the scream?”
“Well, really! Down the front staircase, of course!”
Landis rose abruptly.
“Now perhaps you won’t mind taking a seat in the library for a few moments?”
She stared up at him with wide eyes.
“Is that all?”
“Were you expecting more?”
“N-no. Of course not!” She slid to her feet and went swaying lightly into the library to join the others, Landis at her heels.
Leaving her there, he returned to the hall and struck another summons on the lacquered gongs. As promptly as before, Miss Mount appeared on the balcony above.
“Is Miss Isabelle Harrison well enough to give us a moment or two?” he inquired.
“I suppose it is quite necessary?”
“I’m afraid it is, Miss Mount.”
“Very well. I’ll send her down.”
Isabelle, when she had joined them in the drawing-room, proved a strong contrast to her sister. She was heavier and neither so pretty nor so graceful. She had blue eyes and reddish hair like her father and the same selfish, self-indulgent look about her mouth, somewhat modified by her sex. Youth, however, lent her a certain voluminous and healthy appeal, of which a daring black evening gown made the most, in contrast with her smooth white skin. She sat down helplessly and faced them with swollen, lackluster eyes, now dry of tears.
Landis proceeded to put to her exactly the same questions he had asked her sister.
She had not locked the door at the end of the wing nor closed the door into the library. She had not noticed the library door when she came in that evening but felt sure it had been open as usual or she would have noticed it. She knew nothing about the Japanese bow, had not seen anything nor anyone strange about the house recently, had no idea who killed her poor daddy. Some outside enemy, she supposed.
“Why someone from outside?” asked Landis again.
“Well, nobody in the house could have done it.”
“Why not, Miss Harrison?”
“I—I don’t know. Only it seems so absurd!”
Landis asked his usual question as to her whereabouts between six-thirty and seven-thirty that evening. She had been in her bath or her bedroom the entire time.
“What did you do when you heard Susan scream?”
“I ran to my door and peeked out. I hadn’t any dress on. Susan was carrying on downstairs and—”
“Did you see anyone when you peeked out?”
“I—I think so! Yes, Uncle Joel was wandering around in his dressing-gown!”
“Wandering around where, Miss Harrison?”
She started a little.
“He—he came out of his room and knocked on ’Nita’s door. He’s crazy about ’Nita.”
“Did you see anyone else?” asked Landis quickly.
“I saw Stimson. He came out of the dining-room and hurried along the hall toward the front.”
“Anyone else?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“What became of your uncle?”
“I turned back to put on my dress and see what had happened. When I came out on the balcony again, Uncle Joel was wandering back toward his own room. He went in and shut the door and I hurried downstairs. When I got to the foot I heard somebody behind me and looked back. It was ’Nita running down after me. But I didn’t wait for her.”
“She was coming from her room, I suppose?”
“I suppose so. Why, no, she wasn’t! She was coming down the other flight, the one toward the wing. It would be absurd for her to come that way from her room, wouldn’t it?”
“I suppose it would,” Bernard admitted. “Do you know of anyone having quarreled with your father recently?”
Isabelle’s eyes filled with slow tears.
“Everybody quarreled with him! He was r-rather absurd about some things! I had a row with him myself just lately. I wish I hadn’t!”
“What was your quarrel about?”
“What was our quarrel about?” The girl regarded them with sudden, clumsy hauteur. “I don’t think that concerns you in the least!”
“Oh, but it does,” Landis seconded.
“I—I don’t see why I should tell you!”
“Anything you tell us,” Landis explained with grandeur, “is, so far as possible, strictly confidential!”
Isabelle looked relieved.
“Well, in that case, we had a row over Hobart. We’re engaged, you see,” she eyed them to observe the effect of this. They nodded politely. “Yes. We’re engaged. But Daddy wanted Hobart to go to work and of course Hobart wasn’t in any hurry. We’re having too good a time together! Isn’t it absurd? Why should he work? There’s plenty of money for us both!”
“Why, I suppose there is,” Landis admitted. “Thank you, Miss Harrison. Now would you mind waiting for a moment in the library with the others?” He rose as he spoke.
She got up, too, staring at him with round eyes.
“No, I’ll wait,” she said.
Landis stood aside for her, conscious that Bernard had come to his feet as though something had stung him. Perhaps on that account he addressed Isabelle with a faint drawl in his voice.
“By the way, Miss Harrison, I don’t see why you should quarrel with your father over that! Mr. Russell didn’t want to work and that was that, wasn’t it?”
She turned back to him with a sort of heavy archness that was rather pathetic.
“Oh, no, it wasn’t!” she said. “You see, we want to get married this winter. But Daddy wouldn’t let us get married at all until Hobart got a job. He has tried, poor boy! But it seems as if there’s a conspiracy against him! He can’t find anything!”
“Of course! I understand. Thank you very much!”
While Isabelle moved into the hall, Landis paused to fling at Bernard a droll, challenging glance, a glance not untinged with compunction. The answer was a faint and comprehending snort. They fell into step behind Isabelle.
“You might give me a chance to finish my questions!”
Bernard chuckled.
“There’s no knowing what blunders you youngsters will make,” he rumbled, sotto voce.
They reached the library door in time to see Isabelle join a stiff and wooden company. At sight of them Anita jumped to her feet, her dark eyes sparkling with anger.
“Would you mind telling me,” she demanded of Landis, “how long you propose to keep us here?”
“Not a moment longer than is necessary!” Landis broke off at a touch on his arm. Bernard nodded toward the finger-print expert just emerging from the dining-room.
“Just a minute, please, Miss Harrison,” said Landis. He turned calmly to face the expert while Anita waited, fuming, and tapping a small foot on the polished floor.
“There’s not a sign of a finger-print on the bow nor the arrows either, Lieutenant,” the man announced. “Looks as if they’ve been carefully wiped. There ought to be some finger-prints on almost any hard surface in a house.”
“Too bad,” nodded Landis. “Well, see what you can find on the armor and on the door at the end of the library here. You can have the place to yourself now.”
“Very good. You want pictures, too, don’t you?”
“Yes. I want the armor with the bow as we found it, the entire library from that end of the room and the reception-room with Harrison’s body. But those can wait a bit.”
He turned to Anita with a ready smile.
“I’m mighty sorry to keep you so long,” he said. “But it won’t be necessary any longer.” He raised his voice to include the others. “That’s all, thanks. But we’d be obliged if you’d keep away from the hall at the back of the library here.”
Isabelle and her guests arose with a murmur of voices, imitated a moment later by the servants, in silence. Some of these started for the door at the back and Landis called to them: “This way, please!”
The two detectives and the expert stood aside. Anita Harrison swept out first. The others filed out in her wake, the women with celerity, the men more slowly. In a moment they had scattered and vanished, the servants toward the kitchen. Anita and the Grahams went upstairs. Isabelle, Russell and Allen entered the drawing-room.
Of them all, only Anita looked back just before she disappeared toward her room.