Chapter VII: The Detective’s Search for Clues

Greetings had scarcely been exchanged when they were interrupted by the appearance of young Danton’s valet, who approached them rapidly across the lawn, and, pausing while still some distance from them, called out in a low tone:

“May I have a word with you, Mr. Reginald?”

Danton swept one lightninglike glance upon Nick, and crossed over to where the valet was waiting.

“What is it, Rogers?” he asked.

“I had occasion to visit your rooms, just now, sir,” said the valet in a low tone, which was inaudible to the others. “Mr. Orizaba is there, sir.”

“Orizaba? In my rooms? How is that?” asked Danton in well-simulated surprise.

“I do not know how it is, sir, only that he is there; but that is not all, sir.”

“Well? What more?”

“He is in the big chair near the south window, sir. I supposed he was sleeping, and, knowing that you would be offended if you returned and discovered him there, I sought to awaken him, sir.”

“Sought to awaken him! Why didn’t you do it?”

“He would not awaken, sir.”

“What the devil do you mean, Rogers?”

“He would not wake up, because he could not, sir. He is dead.”

“Dead! Good heavens! You must be mistaken!”

“He is dead, sir; and quite cold. I saw you as you approached the house, almost at the same moment that I discovered him, sir, and so I came directly to you. Will you tell me what to do next, sir?”

“Yes; send one of the stable-boys for a doctor as quickly as he can go. Say that Orizaba is ill. Bring the doctor to my rooms as soon as he arrives. In the meantime, tell nobody of your discovery. I will go with my friend to my rooms at once. Go. Wait at the stable for the doctor, and then bring him to me at once.”

Then, as Rogers turned away, Danton called out:

“Oh, Felix. I am going to my rooms. My man tells me that Orizaba is there, and that he is ill! Will you come with me?”

With a murmured apology to Mercedes, Nick rejoined Danton, and together they entered the house and proceeded at once to Danton’s rooms.

Nick nodded his approval when Danton related the conversation that had taken place between him and his valet, but he made no comment. But when they entered and closed the door behind them, he said:

“It may prove a little bit harder for you in the end, to attempt to carry the impression now, that you were not at home early this morning, but it is decidedly better in view of my idea of what is to come. Your sister seemed to take the news that Orizaba is ill with very little concern.”

“Oh, she expected that we would both be out of the counting to-day. I usually am when I have been to a banquet. She thinks his illness is only the effects of his night out, and his presence in my room due to his not being able to find his own.”

“I see,” said the detective--but it was evident that he had other ideas concerning Mercedes’ reception of the news; however, he said nothing more on the subject, but at once busied himself in examining the room.

Orizaba’s position in the chair was precisely as Danton had described it.

A rapid, but careful, inspection of the back of his neck disclosed a small blue mark, not larger than the head of a pin, where the needle had entered the flesh. Around it there was no sign whatever of a wound, and there was not a thing that could be discovered externally, to indicate that an instrument of death had entered there.

“It is too bad that I cannot go deeper into that question here and now,” said Nick, “but for obvious reasons the body must not be disturbed until after the doctor and the coroner have viewed it--and, anyhow, the body itself is the least of my concerns just now.”

Suddenly he glanced up sharply at Danton, who was watching him eagerly.

“Did you have a shower in this neighborhood yesterday?” he asked.

“Yes. A light one; late in the afternoon.”

“Are you wearing the shoes you wore at the banquet, or did you put on a different pair when you started to find me?”

“I changed them.”

“Where are the ones you wore to the banquet?”

“Here.”

“Let me see them. Ah! I thought so.”

“What?”

“Never mind, just now. You think that half an hour might have elapsed while you were asleep in the piazza chair. Yes. I remember. Here is a small stain of ink on the ends of the thumb and first finger of Orizaba’s right hand, as if he had used them to pick an obstruction from the point of a pen--a hair, for example. Tell me, was Orizaba left-handed? Did he write with his left hand?”

“With either. With one almost as well as with the other.”

“And you use purple ink on your desk, I take it, eh?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Good. Where are the clothes you wore to the banquet? Get them, for we must work rapidly in order to be through before the doctor arrives.”

“Here,” replied Danton, and he brought them from a chair in the bedroom, where he had thrown them down carelessly.

Nick examined them carefully and then returned them to their owner.

“They are all right,” he said. “Hang them, if you can, in their accustomed place, where your valet keeps them. When you have done that, come here.”

Danton returned in a moment and took his place beside Nick.

“Well?” he inquired.

“Look there,” said Nick, pointing at the bottom of the legs of the trousers on the dead man. “Tell me what you see.”

“Only a small, green burr.”

“Exactly. Only a small, green burr--and on the other leg, the remnants of another small, green burr that has been picked off and thrown away. I did not find any evidence of such a thing on the trousers you wore, Danton.”

“Well, I don’t know, to be sure, but I don’t think I went anywhere to get such things fast to me.”

“Exactly; and it is evident that Orizaba did, is it not?”

“Why, yes.”

“Do you remember if he drank very much last night? Was he as full as you were when you started for home?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think he was, however, for the reason that he generally kept his head much better than I could.”

“And yet, when your sister heard that he was in your rooms, ill, you say she doubtless believed that it was because he was drunk last night. Now, you take your stand over there at the window and keep your eyes out through it, so that you can tell me the moment you see any signs of the doctor’s arrival. That’s it. Don’t have me in mind at all, but tell me when you see anybody coming.”

Danton obeyed, and as soon as his back was turned, Nick Carter began to work in earnest.

One by one he examined every pocket in the clothing of the dead man, turning out the contents, examining each article and paper separately, and with careful scrutiny; and while he did so, there were several articles which he transferred to his own pockets, and that with the appearance of the utmost pleasure.

There were two letters, a check, a fountain-pen, a small card-case, which, however, contained no cards, but was well supplied with other things, and a piece of blue blotting-paper, which exactly fitted into the closed card-case.

These he deposited in his own pockets, and then, when he had rearranged the clothing of the dead man so that there remained no evidence that anything had been disturbed, he straightened up and drew back just as Danton announced that the doctor had arrived.

It must be remembered that there was not a sign of violence anywhere upon the body of the dead man.

He was seated in the big, upholstered chair near the window, in an attitude such as a person asleep might quite naturally have assumed. His head was thrown back against the cushion, and his hands were disposed as gracefully and naturally as if he had used every personal sense in placing them before the fatal blow had fallen upon him.

The doctor summoned by Rogers happened also to be the coroner, which was fortunate, inasmuch as he could give immediate permission for the removal of the body. He happened, also, to be not particularly gifted with understanding, and to be one of those individuals who believes so thoroughly in what he does know that opposite opinions serve merely to fasten his own convictions the more firmly. Moreover, an affair of this kind in a household like the Dantons! Well! He considered it a beneficent intervention of Providence that Orizaba should have died thus suddenly in order that he might be called in and be for a moment on terms of familiarity with the multi-millionaire’s family.

But Doctor Jackson, the coroner, did not return alone. He brought a younger man with him, who was also a physician, a young Doctor Pollock, whose keen, black eyes, alert manner, and comprehensive attitude at once impressed Nick, so that he remarked, mentally, to himself:

“There’s a young chap who will not be fooled by appearances, and who will manage to get at the bottom of this thing without much delay. I must have a private talk with him as soon as possible.”

Doctor Jackson lost no time in arriving at a decision concerning the case.

“The gentleman expired four or five hours ago,” he said, rubbing his hands together as if he were imparting information of the most delightful character, calculated to give unalloyed pleasure to everybody within the sound of his voice. “Overindulgence in stimulants brought about his death, I have no doubt. However, the autopsy will fully determine that part of it. There is, no doubt, however, that the valves of the heart will be found to be greatly enlarged, and--er--badly--er--congested. Your friend--or was he a relative, Mr. Danton? I think I have heard that he was a cousin. Yes? Very well, your cousin’s death is due to heart failure, sir, superinduced by overexcitement and stimulant, followed by the sudden relaxation of falling asleep in this chair. Ahem! I think he may now be removed.”