The dream detective: being some account of the methods of Moris Klaw (8 page)

"Now, Mr. Grimsby," continued Moris Klaw: "In a few words, what is the evidence against Ryder, the butler?"

"Well," was the reply, "you will note where the ax used to hang, up there before the rail of the minstrels' gallery. The theory is that the murderer rushed up, wrenched the ax from its fastening "

"Theories, my friend," interrupted Moris Klaw, "are not evidence!"

Isis gazed at Mr. Grimsby with a smile. He looked embarrassed.

"Sorry!" he said, humbly. "Here are the facts, then. In the right hand of the dead man was an open pocket knife. It is assumed Sorry! Several

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spots of blood were found on the knife. Do you want to see it?"

Moris Klaw shook his head.

"It has been ascertained," continued Grimsby, "that Ryder went out at eight o'clock on the night of the murder and didn't return until after ten. He was interrogated. Listen to this, Mr. Klaw, and tell me why I haven't arrested him! He admitted that he was the man who rang the bell; he admitted being closeted with Heidelberger in the library; and he admitted that he was in the hall when the Jew met his death!"

"Good!" said Moris Klaw. "And he is still at large?"

"He is! He's made no attempt to run away. I had his room searched, and found a light coat with both sleeves bloodstained! He had a cut on his left hand such as might be caused by the slash of a pocket knife! He said he had caught his hand on a door-latch, but blankly declined to say what he was doing here on the night of the murder! Yet, I didn't arrest him! Why?"

"Why?" said Moris Klaw. "Tell me."

"Because I didn't think it feasible that a man of his age could wield that ax—and I hoped to use Ryder as a trap to catch his accomplice!"

"Ah! clever!" rumbled Moris Klaw. "French, Mr. Grimsby! Subtle! But you have just seen what a poor old fool can do with that ax!"

I have never observed a man so suddenly lose faith in himself as did Grimsby at those words. He flushed, he paled; he seemed to become speechless.

"Tell me, Mr. Grimsby," said Klaw, "what does the suspected man do that is suspicious? What letters does he write ? What letters does he receive ?"

"None!" replied the now angry Grimsby. "But he visits Doctor Madden, in Uxley, every day."

"What for, eh?"

"The doctor says the interviews are of a purely professional nature, and I can't very well suspect a man in his position!"

"You have done two silly things," rumbled Moris Klaw. "You have wasted much time in the matter of Ryder, and you have accepted, unquestioned, the word of a doctor. Mr. Grimsby, I have known doctors who were most inspired liars!"

"Then you are of opinion "

Klaw raised his hand.

"It is Doctor Madden we shall visit," he said. "This Ryder cannot escape us. Isis, my child, I need not have troubled you. This is so simple a case that we need no 'mental negatives' to point out to us the culprit!"

"Mr. Klaw " began Grimsby, excitedly.

"My friend," he was answered, "I shall make a few examinations and then we shall be off to Uxley. The assassin returns to London with us by the 3145 train!"

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IV

As we drove through the village street, in the car which Grimsby had hired, upon the gate of one of the last cottages a tall, white-haired old man was leaning. His clear-cut, handsome features wore an expression of haggard sorrow.

"There he is!" rapped Grimsby. "Hadn't I better make the arrest at once?''

"Ah, no, my friend!" protested Klaw. "But stop—I have something to say to him."

The car stopping, Moris Klaw descended and approached the old man, who perceptibly paled at sight of us.

"Good day, Mr. Ryder!" Klaw courteously saluted the ex-butler.

"Good day to you, sir," replied the old man, civilly.

Whereupon Moris Klaw said a simple thing, which had an astounding effect.

"How is he to-day?" he inquired.

Ryder's face became convulsed. His eyes started forth. He made a choking sound, staring, as one possessed, at his questioner.

"What—what—do you mean?" he gasped.

"Never mind, Mr. Ryder—never mind!" rumbled Klaw. "Isis, my child, remain with this gentleman and tell him all we know about the ax of 'Black Goeffrey.' He will be glad to hear it!"

The beautiful Isis obeyed without question. As the rest of us drove on our way, I could see the flame-coloured figure passing up the garden path beside the tall form of the old butler. Grimsby, a man badly out of his depth, watched until both became lost to

view.

I've got evidence," he suddenly burst out, "that Ryder declared Heidelberger to be the direct cause of Sir Richard's downfall! And I've got witnesses who heard him say, 'Please God! the Jew won't be here much longer!'"

"Good!" rumbled Moris Klaw. "Very good!"

During the remainder of the journey, Grimsby talked on incessantly, smoking cheroots the whole time. But Moris Klaw was silent.

Doctor Madden had but recently returned from his morning visits. He was a typical country practitioner, fresh-faced and clean-shaven, with iron-gray hair and a good head. He conveyed the impression, in some way, that he knew himself to be in a tight corner.

"What can I do for you, gentlemen?" he said, briskly.

"We have called, Doctor Madden," rumbled Moris Klaw, wagging his finger, impressively, "to tell you that Ryder is in imminent danger—imminent danger —of arrest!"

The doctor started.

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"And therefore we want a word with one of your patients!"

" I do not understand you. Which of my patients ?"

Moris Klaw shook his head.

"Let us be intelligent," he said, "you and I, and not two old fools! You understand so perfectly which of your patients."

Doctor Madden drummed his fingers on the table.

"Are you a detective ?" he snapped.

"I am not!" replied Moris Klaw. "I am a student of the Science of Cycles—not motor cycles; and a humble explorer of the etheric borderland! You lay yourself open to grave charges, Doctor!"

The doctor began to fidget nervously.

"If indeed I am culpable," he said, "my culpability only dates from last night."

"So!" rumbled Klaw. "He has been insensible?"

Doctor Madden started up.

"Mr. Klaw," he replied, "I do not know who you may be, but your penetration is uncanny. He had lost his memory!"

"What?—lost his memory! How is that?"

"He was thrown from his horse! Come; I see it is useless, now, to waste time. I will take you to him."

As we filed out to the waiting car, I glanced at Grimsby. His stupefaction was almost laughable.

"What in heaven's name is it all about, Mr. Searles?" he whispered to me. "I feel like a man in

a strange country. People talk, and it doesn't seem to mean anything!"

En route:

"Tell me, Doctor," said Moris Klaw, "about your patient."

The doctor, without hesitation, now explained that he had been called to attend a Mr. Rogers, an artist, who was staying at Hinxman's farm, off the Uxley Road. On the evening of the tragedy Mr. Rogers went out on Bess, a mare belonging to the farm, and, not having returned by ten, some anxiety was felt concerning him, the mare possessing a very bad reputation. At about a quarter-past ten the animal returned, riderless, and Rogers was brought home later, in an insensible condition, by two farm hands, having been found beside the road some distance from the farm.

For some time Mr. Rogers lay in a critical condition, suffering from concussion. Finally, a change for the better set in, but the patient was found to have lost his memory.

"Last Saturday," added the doctor, "a specialist whom I had invited to come down from London performed a successful operation."

"Ah," rumbled Moris Klaw, "so we can see him?"

"Certainly. He is quite convalescent. His memory returned to him completely last night."

In a state of uncertainty which can well be imagined, we arrived at, and entered, Hinxman's farm.

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Seated in the shade of the veranda, smoking his pipe, was a bronzed young man who wore a bandage about his head. He was chatting to the farmer when we arrived.

Moris Klaw walked up the steps beside Doctor Madden.

"Good day, Mr. Farmer," he said, amiably. A rosy-cheeked girl face was thrust from an open window. "Good day, Miss Farmer!" He removed the brown bowler. He turned to the bronzed young man. "Good day, Sir Roland Crespie!"

When Grimsby and I had somewhat recovered from the shock of this dramatic meeting, and Sir Roland, Madden, and Moris Klaw had talked together for a few moments, said Moris Klaw:

"And now Sir Roland will tell us all about the death of Mr. Heidelberger!"

Inspector Grimsby was all eyes when the young baronet began:

" You must know, then, that I, together with three others, have been engaged, since my departure from England, in a mining venture in West Africa. Up to the time when I left, and, for the sake of my health, came to England, our efforts had been attended by only moderate success. Thus, on arriving in Cresping and taking lodgings with Hinxman as 'Mr. Rogers'— for the circumstances under which I left home made

me desirous of remaining unknown in the village—I, on learning that my father had just died and that the Hall had fallen into Heidelberger's hands, realized that my slender capital would not allow of my buying him out. The facts of the case came as a great shock to me, and, without revealing my identity—the beard which I had cultivated in Africa, but which the doctors have removed, acting as an effectual disguise—I made inquiries concerning Ryder. I had little difficulty in finding him, and he alone, in Cresping, knew who I really was.

"I now come to the events that immediately preceded Heidelberger's death. There was one object in the old place for which I determined to negotiate, and which, owing to its associations, I particularly desired to retain. This was my mother's portrait. I may mention here that, for certain reasons which I would prefer not to specify, I had rather have burnt the picture than see it fall into the hands of the Jew.

"With this object in view, then, I enlisted the services of Ryder, though from none other than myself would he have accepted the task. This brings me to the day prior to Heidelberger's death, and, on that morning, I received news from Africa which led me to hope that I might, after all, be able to save my old home from an ignominious fate. Herein my hopes have since been realized, for I learnt to-day that the mine has made rich men of us all; and I assume that

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some ill-advised remark upon the part of Ryder, regarding Heidelberger's possible expulsion, gave rise to the idea that the old man contemplated a violent deed.

"It therefore came about that he made an appointment with Heidelberger, an appointment which he duly kept; and it was solely due to my anxiety on Ryder's behalf, and lest he should meet with some ill-treatment from the Jew—whom I knew for a man of most brutal disposition—that I took certain steps which, indirectly, brought about the tragedy.

"In common with most old mansions of the period, the Hall has its hidden entrances and exits—though, in accordance with certain ancient traditions, the secret of their existence is strictly preserved among the family. With a view, therefore, to becoming an unseen witness of the transactions between Ryder and Heidelberger, I made use of a passage that opens into a shrubbery some fifty yards from the west wing. Entering, and mounting the steps at whose foot the tunnel terminates, I found myself at the back of an old painting in the banqueting hall. The frame of this picture forms a door which opens upon pressing a spring, but the apparatus, owing to its great age, works very stiffly. From this position, then, I could hear all that took place in the hall, where, I had anticipated, the negotiations would be conducted, as my mother's picture hangs there.

"This proved to be the case; for I had but just

gained the top of the steps when I heard the two enter the hall. Heidelberger spoke first.

" 'Think of you wanting to buy Lady Crespie's picture, you sentimental old fool!' he said. 'If it had been another I could name who wanted it, the case would have been different !'

"Then I heard Ryder's voice. 'What do you mean, Mr. Heidelberger ?' he asked.

"I awaited the Jew's reply with some curiosity. As I had anticipated, it consisted of a foul and unfounded imputation against my poor mother. It was, in fact, more than I could bear in silence, and the tolerance of old Ryder, too, had reached its limit. For, at the moment that I wrenched open the panel and sprang into the room to confront this slanderer, I heard the sound of a blow, followed by an animallike roar of anger from Heidelberger.

'The next moment, he seized the old man by the throat. Before he had time to proceed further I struck him heavily with my fist, so that he released his grip and turned to face his new assailant.

"One tribute I must pay to Heidelberger. He was, seemingly, incapable of fear; for this sudden attack by a person he had not known to be present seemed only to arouse a new resentment. His face, as he turned and looked me up and down, contained no trace of fear.

"'So it's you that wants the picture, is it?' he sneered. 'I suppose you are '

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"'Stop!' I said. 'I am Roland Crespie, and can listen to no more of your foul slanders!'

"For a second he hesitated, looking from me to Ryder and then toward the picture, dimly discernible in the light of the candle which he had brought with him. Then, before I could divine his intention, he drew a knife from his pocket, and, opening a blade, took a step in the direction of the portrait. 'You shall never have it!' he said.

"He had actually inserted the blade in the canvas —as an examination will show—when I came upon him, and we closed in a desperate struggle.

"In what followed, one can almost trace the finger of destiny. Heidelberger was a more powerful man than myself, but in his fury he endeavoured to stab me with the knife which he held in his hand!