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  THE CIRCULAR STUDY

  BY ANNA KATHARINE GREEN

  1900

  DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY GARDEN CITY NEW YORK 1914

  CONTENTS.

  BOOK I.--A STRANGE CRIME.

  I.--Red Light

  II.--Mysteries

  III.--The Mute Servitor

  IV.--A New Experience for Mr. Gryce

  V.--Five Small Spangles

  VI.--Suggestions From an Old Friend

  VII.--Amos's Son

  VIII.--In the Round of the Staircase

  IX.--High and Low

  X.--Bride Roses

  XI.--Misery

  XII.--Thomas Explains

  XIII.--Despair

  XIV.--Memoranda

  BOOK II.--REMEMBER EVELYN.

  I.--The Secret of the Cadwaladers

  II.--The Oath

  III.--Eva

  IV.--Felix

  V.--Why the Iron Slide Remained Stationary

  VI.--Answered

  VII.--Last Words

  BOOK I

  A STRANGE CRIME

  CHAPTER I.

  RED LIGHT.

  Mr. Gryce was melancholy. He had attained that period in life when thespirits flag and enthusiasm needs a constant spur, and of late there hadbeen a lack of special excitement, and he felt dull and superannuated.He was even contemplating resigning his position on the force andretiring to the little farm he had bought for himself in Westchester;and this in itself did not tend to cheerfulness, for he was one to whomaction was a necessity and the exercise of his mental faculties moreinspiring than any possible advantage which might accrue to him fromtheir use.

  But he was not destined to carry out this impulse yet. For just at theheight of his secret dissatisfaction there came a telephone message toHeadquarters which roused the old man to something like his former vigorand gave to the close of this gray fall day an interest he had notexpected to feel again in this or any other kind of day. It was sentfrom Carter's well-known drug store, and was to the effect that a ladyhad just sent a boy in from the street to say that a strange crime hadbeen committed in ----'s mansion round the corner. The boy did not knowthe lady, and was shy about showing the money she had given him, butthat he had money was very evident, also, that he was frightened enoughfor his story to be true. If the police wished to communicate with him,he could be found at Carter's, where he would be detained till an orderfor his release should be received.

  A _strange_ crime! That word "strange" struck Mr. Gryce, and made himforget his years in wondering what it meant. Meanwhile the men about himexchanged remarks upon the house brought thus unexpectedly to theirnotice. As it was one of the few remaining landmarks of the precedingcentury, and had been made conspicuous moreover by the shops,club-houses, and restaurants pressing against it on either side, it hadbeen a marked spot for years even to those who knew nothing of itshistory or traditions.

  And now a crime had taken place in it! Mr. Gryce, in whose ears thatword "strange" rang with quiet insistence, had but to catch the eye ofthe inspector in charge to receive an order to investigate the affair.He started at once, and proceeded first to the drug store. There hefound the boy, whom he took along with him to the house indicated in themessage. On the way he made him talk, but there was nothing the poorwaif could add to the story already sent over the telephone. Hepersisted in saying that a lady (he did not say woman) had come up tohim while he was looking at some toys in a window, and, giving him apiece of money, had drawn him along the street as far as the drug store.Here she showed him another coin, promising to add it to the one he hadalready pocketed if he would run in to the telephone clerk with amessage for the police. He wanted the money, and when he grabbed at itshe said that all he had to do was to tell the clerk that a strangecrime had been committed in the old house on ---- Street. This scaredhim, and he was sliding off, when she caught him again and shook himuntil his wits came back, after which he ran into the store anddelivered the message.

  There was candor in the boy's tone, and Mr. Gryce was disposed tobelieve him; but when he was asked to describe the lady, he showed thathis powers of observation were no better than those of most of hisclass. All he could say was that she was a stunner, and wore shinyclothes and jewels, and Mr. Gryce, recognizing the lad's limitations atthe very moment he found himself in view of the house he was making for,ceased to question him, and directed all his attention to the buildinghe was approaching.

  Nothing in the exterior bespoke crime or even disturbance. A shut door,a clean stoop, heavily curtained windows (some of which were furthershielded by closely drawn shades) were eloquent of inner quiet anddomestic respectability, while its calm front of brick, with brownstonetrimmings, offered a pleasing contrast to the adjoining buildingsjutting out on either side, alive with signs and humming with business.

  "Some mistake," muttered Gryce to himself, as the perfect calm reigningover the whole establishment struck him anew. But before he had decidedthat he had been made the victim of a hoax, a movement took place in thearea under the stoop, and an officer stepped out, with a countenanceexpressive of sufficient perplexity for Mr. Gryce to motion him backwith the hurried inquiry: "Anything wrong? Any blood shed? All seemsquiet here."

  The officer, recognizing the old detective, touched his hat. "Can't getin," said he. "Have rung all the bells. Would think the house empty if Ihad not seen something like a stir in one of the windows overhead. ShallI try to make my way into the rear yard through one of the lower windowsof Knapp & Co.'s store, next door?"

  "Yes, and take this boy with you. Lock him up in some one of theiroffices, and then break your way into this house by some means. It oughtto be easy enough from the back yard."

  The officer nodded, took the boy by the arm, and in a trice haddisappeared with him into the adjoining store. Mr. Gryce remained in thearea, where he was presently besieged by a crowd of passers-by, eager toadd their curiosity to the trouble they had so quickly scented. Theopening of the door from the inside speedily put an end to importunitiesfor which he had as yet no reply, and he was enabled to slip within,where he found himself in a place of almost absolute quiet. Before himlay a basement hall leading to a kitchen, which, even at that moment, henoticed to be in trimmer condition than is usual where much housework isdone, but he saw nothing that bespoke tragedy, or even a break in theordinary routine of life as observed in houses of like size andpretension.

  Satisfied that what he sought was not to be found here, he followed theofficer upstairs. As they emerged upon the parlor floor, the latterdropped the following information:

  "Mr. Raffner of the firm next door says that the man who lives here isan odd sort of person whom nobody knows; a bookworm, I think they callhim. He has occupied the house six months, yet they have never seen anyone about the premise but himself and a strange old servant as peculiarand uncommunicative as his master."

  "I know," muttered Mr. Gryce. He did know, everybody knew, that thishouse, once the seat of one of New York's most aristocratic families,was inhabited at present by a Mr. Adams, noted alike for his more thancommon personal attractions, his wealth, and the uncongenial nature ofhis temperament, which precluded all association with his kind. It wasthis knowledge which had given zest to this investigation. To enter thehouse of such a man was an event in itself: to enter it on an errand oflife and death--Well, it is under the inspiration of such opportunitiesthat life is r
eawakened in old veins, especially when those veinsconnect the heart and brain of a sagacious, if octogenarian, detective.

  The hall in which they now found themselves was wide, old-fashioned, andsparsely furnished in the ancient manner to be observed in suchtime-honored structures. Two doors led into this hall, both of which nowstood open. Taking advantage of this fact, they entered the nearest,which was nearly opposite the top of the staircase they had justascended, and found themselves in a room barren as a doctor's outeroffice. There was nothing here worth their attention, and they wouldhave left the place as unceremoniously as they had entered it if theyhad not caught glimpses of richness which promised an interior ofuncommon elegance, behind the half-drawn folds of a portiere at thefurther end of the room.

  Advancing through the doorway thus indicated, they took one look aboutthem and stood appalled. Nothing in their experience (and they had bothexperienced much) had prepared them for the thrilling, the solemn natureof what they were here called upon to contemplate.

  Shall I attempt its description?

  A room small and of circular shape, hung with strange tapestriesrelieved here and there by priceless curios, and lit, although it wasstill daylight, by a jet of rose-colored light concentrated, not on therows and rows of books around the lower portion of the room, or on theone great picture which at another time might have drawn the eye andheld the attention, but on the upturned face of a man lying on abearskin rug with a dagger in his heart and on his breast a cross whosegolden lines, sharply outlined against his long, dark, swathing garment,gave him the appearance of a saint prepared in some holy place forburial, save that the dagger spoke of violent death, and his face of ananguish for which Mr. Gryce, notwithstanding his lifelong experience,found no name, so little did it answer to a sensation of fear, pain, orsurprise, or any of the emotions usually visible on the countenances ofsuch as have fallen under the unexpected stroke of an assassin.