Anybody But Anne

Next came Barclay Lasseter, the secretary.

“Your name and position?” asked the coroner, curtly.

For some reason the young man showed rather a defiant attitude.

“I am Barclay Lasseter, and my position was that of secretary to David Van Wyck.”

“Confidential secretary?”

“Yes, private and confidential secretary.”

“For how long have you held that position?”

“A little over a year.”

“What are your duties?”

“My duties have been, to do whatever Mr. Van Wyck required of me in the way of attention to his correspondence and business affairs.”

“You live here?”

“No; I board in the village. But frequently, at Mr. Van Wyck’s request, I’ve stayed here over night, or for a few days at a time.”

“When were you last with Mr. Van Wyck?”

“Last evening, when a committee of three gentlemen visited him in his study.”

“For what purpose?”

“It was Mr. Van Wyck’s intention to make a gift of nearly a million dollars for a village library, and three prominent men of the village were a committee to accept this gift and superintend its disposal as directed.”

This evidence caused a decided sensation in the audience. The library plan had been a secret until now, and the village people were astounded at the news. The coroner went on:

“As confidential secretary you must know all about the details of this plan for the library.”

“I only know that it was Mr. Van Wyck’s positive intention to make the gift. Papers were drawn up to that effect last evening, but they were not completed and not signed.”

“And those papers have been stolen?”

“They have disappeared.”

“Meaning that Mr. Van Wyck may have disposed of them himself, before he died?”

“Meaning nothing, but that the papers are missing, and I have no way of ascertaining whether they were stolen or not.”

“And the Van Wyck pearls? They are also missing?”

“They are.”

“They were always kept in the safe?”

“Not always, but usually.”

“When not in the safe, where were they?”

“In the possession of Mrs. Van Wyck.”

“Did she prefer to keep them in her own possession?”

This question seemed to me too personal, and I noticed both Archer and Morland showed frowning faces at the coroner’s words.

But Lasseter answered decidedly: “She certainly did. The possession of the pearls was a constant source of disagreement between them.”

This roused me to extreme indignation, but as I looked at Anne, and saw the calm, even supercilious expression on her face, I concluded I was too sensitive in the matter, and probably it was necessary that these things should come out in the evidence. I knew David Van Wyck’s disposition, and it was not at all astonishing that he and Anne should have quarrelled about the pearls. I knew they were hers in the sense that he had given them to her. But I knew, too, that he claimed the ownership of all and any of her property. However, it was very ungracious of Lasseter to volunteer the information as to marital disagreements.

“When did you last see Mr. Van Wyck alive?” Mr. Mellen next inquired of the witness.

“I was present at his conference with the committee. Those gentlemen stayed until well after eleven. I then remained with Mr. Van Wyck until very nearly twelve, leaving for home, I should say, at about ten minutes before midnight”

“You left Mr. Van Wyck’s study, and went directly to your home?”

“I did,” returned Lasseter, and, though the answer was prompt, there was something about the man’s voice that made me doubt his integrity. I had no reason to question the truth of his statement, but his wandering eye, a certain nervous working of his features, and his restless clasping and unclasping of his hands made me wonder whether or not he had anything to conceal. But I also realized that the curt, almost aggressive manner of Coroner Mellen was enough to disturb the poise of the most innocent witness.

“You left Mr. Van Wyck alone in his study?”

“Not so. His son, Morland, was with him.”

“I was not!” declared Morland, starting up from his seat not far from me.

Lasseter paid no attention to this interruption, and the coroner said, “Why does Mr. Morland Van Wyck contradict you, Mr. Lasseter?”

“I don’t know,” said the secretary. “I repeat that when I left the study, I left Mr. Van Wyck and his son there, and I said good-night to both as I went out of the door.”

“Did they respond to your good-night?”

“The elder Mr. Van Wyck said, ‘ Good-night, Lasseter,’ in his offhand way, and immediately followed it with a remark to his son.”

“What was the remark?”

“He said, ‘You see, Morland, I have proved that I could carry out my intention, after all.’ ”

“And did Mr. Morland Van Wyck reply to this?”

“That I cannot say, as I was by that time outside the door and had closed it behind me.”

“And you know nothing more of this matter?”

“The next time I saw Mr. Van Wyck was when I arrived here this morning and found him dead.”

“You are positive that when you left last night Mr. Morland Van Wyck was in the study with his father?”

“I am positive.”

There was a breathless silence. It was quite evident from the expressions on the faces of the audience that they had leaped to the conclusion that Morland Van Wyck had killed his father because of the plan for endowing a library. The villagers had become aware of the situation so suddenly, and had been so astonished at the munificence of the gift, that it seemed to them but natural that the Van Wyck family should resent this disposal of a fortune. But the thought of Morland committing a crime because of it appalled them, and looks of horror could be seen on every face. Morland Van Wyck was next called as a witness.

The sight of his livid, angry face seemed to render the coroner incapable of definite questions. “What have you to say for yourself?” he said.

“I have this to say,” thundered Morland: “Barclay Lasseter lies when he says he left me with my father! The truth is, I left the study before Lasseter did. I left him there with my father, and if he states the contrary, he has his own reason for doing so!”

“You are implying—” began the coroner.

“I’m implying nothing!” Morland stormed on. “I am stating that I left my father and his secretary alone in the study. And I am stating nothing but that.” He threw a defiant look at the secretary, who returned it in kind. Coroner Mellen was decidedly nonplussed. He seemed to fear an outbreak of personal hostilities between these two, and he said hastily, “Let us not pursue this further. One of you gentlemen must be mistaken. Mr. Van Wyck, have you any opinion or theory as to the cause of your father’s death?”

I thought this rather clever of the coroner, for it would bring forth either an accusation of the secretary or a tacit implication of freedom from suspicion.

“My opinion is the only one possible to hold. My father was murdered by some evil-minded intruder. Presumably an expert burglar, because valuable jewels and valuable papers have been stolen.”

“But how, in your opinion, could this intruder commit his crimes and get away, leaving the room securely locked and bolted on the inside, with no possible means of ingress or egress?”

“I’m not prepared to say how he did it; the fact remains that he did do it.”

At this point a juryman made a remark. He was a shrewd-faced young fellow, and seemed imbued with a sense of his own importance.

“I wish to say,” he began, “that we should like at least a suggestion as to how the murderer could have escaped from a room which we may call hermetically sealed.”

Morland turned on him with an impatient gesture. “I hate that term ‘hermetically sealed’! It is absurd, to begin with. That my father’s murderer did get out of the room is proved by the fact that the instrument of death cannot be found. Therefore, since the murderer did get out, the room cannot be hermetically sealed, however much it may appear so.”

“Can there be any secret or concealed entrance?” asked the alert juryman.

“No,” replied Morland; “there is nothing of that sort in the house. And the study is really a separate building, only attached at one corner. Moreover, a burglar, however enterprising, could hardly know of a secret entrance of which we did not know ourselves! I tell you, Mr. Coroner, the murderer got away after the clever fashion of a cracksman who knows his business. How he did it, I cannot tell you; but he killed my father, stole the Van Wyck pearls, stole also the deed of gift which had been drawn up for the village library, and then escaped. Escaped, Mr. Coroner, and is therefore still at large! But he must be found, and no effort must be spared to find him!”

I looked at Morland in astonishment. He had assumed a rather pompous attitude and seemed to be giving orders instead of giving evidence.

Coroner Mellen looked greatly disturbed. I felt sure that he was beginning to realize that the case was more than he could cope with. His limited intelligence could not grapple with the mysteries and contradictions that confronted him.

Also, he began to realize that Morland had a high temper, and that if aggravated much further he might create an unpleasant scene.

“We are even now using our best efforts to discover the criminal, Mr. Van Wyck,” Mr. Mellen went on. “And I count upon you for assistance in the matter.”

“How can I assist you?” Morland blazed. “If I knew anything at all about the matter I should volunteer the information, without having it dragged out of me! You must hold your inquest, of course; but it will tell you nothing, for the problem is too deep and too mysterious to be solved easily. We have engaged a detective in whom I have confidence; but the truth cannot be learned by questioning witnesses. However, Mr. Coroner, proceed with your duties and get them over as soon as may be.”

“That is what I am doing,” said Mr. Mellen, with a sudden accession of dignity. “And in order to proceed properly, I must insist upon asking you some further questions, even at the risk of being considered personal. Were you on good terms with your father at the time of his death?”

“What!” thundered Morland. “Of course I was! I have never been on anything but good terms with my father. To be sure we’ve had differences of opinion, and we never hesitated to state plainly our views to each other, but I don’t call that being on bad terms with him. In case of a disagreement we fought it out as man to man. Naturally, I objected to his foolish plan of founding a library of proportions and values altogether too great for a tiny village like Crescent Falls. Naturally I told him so. As he was very determined in the matter, we had high words on various occasions; and last night matters came to a climax.”

“What do you mean by came to a climax?” The coroner fairly pounced on this phrase.

“I mean what I say! The climax of my father’s plan was reached, when he called the committeemen to meet him and accept his absurd gift! I do not blame these gentlemen. They would have been foolish, indeed, to refuse a gift so freely offered to them. I was present myself at the interview, and I used every argument I could think of, to dissuade my father from his project. But I think I may say, and I think the gentlemen of the committee will bear me out in this, that every objection I raised, only made my father more determined to have his own way.”

The three men who had represented the committee were all present, and they nodded their heads in confirmation of Morland’s statement.

I looked at Morland thoughtfully. At one moment I would feel convinced that he was really a good son, and that it was beyond belief that he should have raised his hand against his own father. And then I realized his ungovernable temper, and his uncontrollable fits of passion, and knowing that last night had been indeed the climax of the whole subject, I wondered if a sudden spasm of passion could have made Morland so beside himself with rage, that he was almost irresponsible, and had in a frenzy committed the awful deed. And then rose in my mind the old question; even supposing he had, how did he get out of the locked room? It seemed to me that the theory of murder was impossible, unless we could discover some means of exit from that sealed study.

Mr. Mellen looked very much perturbed. He seemed unwilling to accuse Morland, and he had no evidence whatever against him. There was a breathless silence in the room, and I could not blind myself to the fact that there was a hostile atmosphere toward young Van Wyck. It was quite evident, too, that he noticed this himself, and assumed a defiant air in consequence. His whole nature was touchy, and it was characteristic of him to show bravado when an accusation was even implied.

Coroner Mellen looked at him intently and seemed uncertain what to do next.

But he must proceed, and so, with a baffled air, he dismissed Morland and called Barbara Van Wyck.

The girl took the stand with no apparent trepidation, and calmly awaited questioning.

“What can you tell us of this affair?” asked the coroner briefly.

“I can tell you no facts that you do not already know,” returned Barbara, in even tones and with perfect poise of manner. “But I wish to advance a theory totally different from my brother’s. To repeat the phrase already used, my father’s study was ‘hermetically sealed.’ It was impossible for an intruder to get in and out again, leaving the room as we found it this morning. I myself examined the windows and doors, and I assure you that not only are the locks and bolts especially strong, but they are so complicated as to make it impossible to manipulate them from the outside. I hold, therefore, that my father was not murdered, but that he took his own life.”

“And the robberies?” suggested the coroner.

“There were no robberies. The pearls have disappeared, but I am positive that my father hid them, and that they will yet be discovered. The deed of gift he doubtless destroyed himself, and then took his own life. My father was a very eccentric man, and it is my opinion that at the last his brain gave way, and for what he did he was not mentally or morally responsible.”

There was something in the girl’s words and manner that carried conviction. Her quiet, dignified composure was so different from Morland’s belligerent insistence that the sympathy of all present seemed to go out to her. All over the room heads were nodding approval of her theory, and it seemed quite in keeping with the erratic career of David Van Wyck.

“But, Miss Van Wyck,” said the coroner, and he seemed to speak with a certain diffidence, “if your theory is right, what became of the weapon used by your father?”

“I do not know, nor do I know what that weapon could have been. But I hold that that may yet be discovered, and I hold too that the absence of that weapon is not so inexplicable a mystery as is the question of how a burglar could escape from that room.”

This was true so far as it went. We were confronted by two seeming impossibilities: if a suicide, the weapon could not have disappeared; if a murder, the murderer could not have made his exit from that sealed room. As theories, one might take one’s choice!

“You think, then,” Mr. Mellen was saying, “the missing pearls will yet be found?”

“I do not know,” replied Barbara. “I think that my father hid them with the unnatural cunning of a diseased mind. For I am perfectly certain that my father was not sane when he took his own life. And if the same ingenuity which marked the manner of his death prompted his hiding of the pearls, it may well be possible that we shall never find them.”

I looked at Miss Van Wyck in amazement. The girl I had thought so colorless and inane was proving possessed of an unsuspected strength of character. Her simple, logical statements carried great weight, and, though she left unsolved a principal point, many of her listeners showed a decided willingness to subscribe to her theories.