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  III. THE MAN

  "You know the man?"

  "I do; or rather, I know a man who answers to this description. Hecomes here once in a while. I do not know whether or not he was in thebuilding to-night, but Clausen can tell you; no one escapes Clausen'seye."

  "His name."

  "Brotherson. A very uncommon person in many respects; quite capableof such an eccentricity, but incapable, I should say, of crime. He'sa gifted talker and so well read that he can hold one's attention forhours. Of his tastes, I can only say that they appear to be mainlyscientific. But he is not averse to society, and is always very welldressed."

  "A taste for science and for fine clothing do not often go together."

  "This man is an exception to all rules. The one I'm speaking of, I mean.I don't say that he's the fellow seen pottering in the snow."

  "Call up Clausen."

  The manager stepped to the telephone.

  Meanwhile, George had advanced to speak to a man who had beckoned to himfrom the other side of the room, and with whom in another moment Isaw him step out. Thus deserted, I sank into a chair near one of thewindows. Never had I felt more uncomfortable. To attribute guilt toa totally unknown person--a person who is little more to you than ashadowy silhouette against a background of snow--is easy enough and notvery disturbing to the conscience. But to hear that person named; givenpositive attributes; lifted from the indefinite into a living, breathingactuality, with a man's hopes, purposes and responsibilities, is anentirely different proposition. This Brotherson might be the mostinnocent person alive; and, if so, what had we done? Nothing tocongratulate ourselves upon, certainly. And George was not present tocomfort and encourage me. He was--

  Where was he? The man who had carried him off was the youngest inthe group. What had he wanted of George? Those who remained showed nointerest in the matter. They had enough to say among themselves. But Iwas interested--naturally so, and, in my uneasiness, glanced restlesslyfrom the window, the shade of which was up. The outlook was a verypeaceful one. This room faced a side street, and, as my eyes fell uponthe whitened pavements, I received an answer to one, and that the mostanxious, of my queries. This was the street into which we had turned, inthe wake of the handsome stranger they were trying at this very momentto identify with Brotherson. George had evidently been asked to pointout the exact spot where the man had stopped, for I could see from myvantage point two figures bending near the kerb, and even pawing at thesnow which lay there. It gave me a slight turn when one of them--I donot think it was George--began to rub his hands together in much theway the unknown gentleman had done, and, in my excitement, I probablyuttered some sort of an ejaculation, for I was suddenly conscious of asilence in the room, and when I turned saw all the men about me lookingmy way.

  I attempted to smile, but instead, shuddered painfully, as I raised myhand and pointed down at the street.

  "They are imitating the man," I cried; "my husband and--and the personhe went out with. It looked dreadful to me; that is all."

  One of the gentlemen immediately said some kind words to me, and anothersmiled in a very encouraging way. But their attention was soon diverted,and so was mine by the entrance of a man in semi-uniform, who wasimmediately addressed as Clausen.

  I knew his face. He was one of the doorkeepers; the oldest employeeabout the hotel, and the one best liked. I had often exchanged wordswith him myself.

  Mr. Slater at once put his question:

  "Has Mr. Brotherson passed your door at any time to-night?"

  "Mr. Brotherson! I don't remember, really I don't," was the unexpectedreply. "It's not often I forget. But so many people came rushing induring those few minutes, and all so excited--"

  "Before the excitement, Clausen. A little while before, possibly justbefore."

  "Oh, now I recall him! Yes, Mr. Brotherson went out of my door not manyminutes before the cry upstairs. I forgot because I had stepped backfrom the door to hand a lady the muff she had dropped, and it was atthat minute he went out. I just got a glimpse of his back as he passedinto the street."

  "But you are sure of that back?"

  "I don't know another like it, when he wears that big coat of his. ButJim can tell you, sir. He was in the cafe up to that minute, and that'swhere Mr. Brotherson usually goes first."

  "Very well; send up Jim. Tell him I have some orders to give him."

  The old man bowed and went out.

  Meanwhile, Mr. Slater had exchanged some words with the two officials,and now approached me with an expression of extreme consideration. Theywere about to excuse me from further participation in this informalinquiry. This I saw before he spoke. Of course they were right. But Ishould greatly have preferred to stay where I was till George came back.

  However, I met him for an instant in the hall before I took theelevator, and later I heard in a round-about way what Jim and someothers about the house had to say of Mr. Brotherson.

  He was an habitue of the hotel, to the extent of dining once or twice aweek in the cafe, and smoking, afterwards, in the public lobby. When hewas in the mood for talk, he would draw an ever-enlarging group abouthim, but at other times he would be seen sitting quite alone andmorosely indifferent to all who approached him. There was no mysteryabout his business. He was an inventor, with one or two valuable patentsalready on the market. But this was not his only interest. He was an allround sort of man, moody but brilliant in many ways--a character whichat once attracted and repelled, odd in that he seemed to set littlestore by his good looks, yet was most careful to dress himself in a wayto show them off to advantage. If he had means beyond the ordinary noone knew it, nor could any man say that he had not. On all personalmatters he was very close-mouthed, though he would talk about othermen's riches in a way to show that he cherished some very extreme views.

  This was all which could be learned about him off-hand, and at so latean hour. I was greatly interested, of course, and had plenty to thinkof till I saw George again and learned the result of the latestinvestigations.

  Miss Challoner had been shot, not stabbed. No other deduction waspossible from such facts as were now known, though the physicians hadnot yet handed in their report, or even intimated what that report wouldbe. No assailant could have approached or left her, without attractingthe notice of some one, if not all of the persons seated at a table inthe same room. She could only have been reached by a bullet sent froma point near the head of a small winding staircase connecting themezzanine floor with a coat-room adjacent to the front door. This hasalready been insisted on, as you will remember, and if you will glanceat the diagram which George hastily scrawled for me, you will see why.

  A. B., as well as C. D., are half circular openings into the officelobby. E. F. are windows giving upon Broadway, and G. the party wall,necessarily unbroken by window, door or any other opening.

  _____________________G.______ | ===desk | | | | Where Miss C Fell-x o | A o | o E o | _____ | | |_____|table | | o | o | B o | o | ________ H ________ | | *** | | | ** ** |elevator | | ** staircase | ** ** X. |_________|_____C_________D____ | *** F Musician's Gallery |____ ______________ ________________ ______ | | Dining Room Level With Lobby

  It follows then that the only possible means of approach to this roomlies through the archway H., or from the elevator door. But the elevatormade no stop at the mezzanine on or near the time of the attack uponMiss Challoner; nor did any one leave the table or pass by it in eitherdirection till after the alarm given by her fall.

  But a bullet calls for no approach. A man at X. might raise and fire hispistol without attracting any attention to himself. The music, which allac
knowledge was at its full climax at this moment, would drown the noiseof the explosion, and the staircase, out of view of all but the victim,afford the same means of immediate escape, which it must have givenof secret and unseen approach. The coat-room into which it descendedcommunicated with the lobby very near the main entrance, and if Mr.Brotherson were the man, his sudden appearance there would thus beaccounted for.

  To be sure, this gentleman had not been noticed in the coatroom by theman then in charge, but if the latter had been engaged at that instant,as he often was, in hanging up or taking down a coat from the rack, aperson might easily pass by him and disappear into the lobby withoutattracting his attention. So many people passed that way from thedining-room beyond, and so many of these were tall, fine-looking andwell-dressed.

  It began to look bad for this man, if indeed he were the one we had seenunder the street-lamp; and, as George and I reviewed the situation, wefelt our position to be serious enough for us severally to set down ourimpressions of this man before we lost our first vivid idea. I do notknow what George wrote, for he sealed his words up as soon as he hadfinished writing, but this is what I put on paper while my memory wasstill fresh and my excitement unabated:

  He had the look of a man of powerful intellect and determined will, who shudders while he triumphs; who outwardly washes his hands of a deed over which he inwardly gloats. This was when he first rose from the snow. Afterwards he had a moment of fear; plain, human, everyday fear. But this was evanescent. Before he had turned to go, he showed the self-possession of one who feels himself so secure, or is so well-satisfied with himself, that he is no longer conscious of other emotions.

  "Poor fellow," I commented aloud, as I folded up these words; "hereckoned without you, George. By to-morrow he will be in the hands ofthe police."

  "Poor fellow?" he repeated. "Better say 'Poor Miss Challoner!' They tellme she was one of those perfect women who reconcile even the pessimistto humanity and the age we live in. Why any one should want to killher is a mystery; but why this man should--There! no one professes toexplain it. They simply go by the facts. To-morrow surely must bringstrange revelations."

  And with this sentence ringing in my mind, I lay down and endeavouredto sleep. But it was not till very late that rest came. The noise ofpassing feet, though muffled beyond their wont, roused me in spite ofmyself. These footsteps might be those of some late arrival, or theymight be those of some wary detective intent on business far removedfrom the usual routine of life in this great hotel.

  I recalled the glimpse I had had of the writing-room in the earlyevening, and imagined it as it was with Miss Challoner's body removedand the incongruous flitting of strange and busy figures across itsfatal floors, measuring distances and peering into corners, whilehundreds slept above and about them in undisturbed repose.

  Then I thought of him, the suspected and possibly guilty one. Invisions over which I had little if any control, I saw him in all therestlessness of a slowly dying down excitement--the surroundings strangeand unknown to me, the figure not--seeking for quiet; facing the past;facing the future; knowing, perhaps, for the first time in his life whatit was for crime and remorse to murder sleep. I could not think of himas lying still--slumbering like the rest of mankind, in the hope andexpectation of a busy morrow. Crime perpetrated looms so large in thesoul, and this man had a soul as big as his body; of that I was assured.That its instincts were cruel and inherently evil, did not lessen itscapacity for suffering. And he was suffering now; I could not doubt it,remembering the lovely face and fragrant memory of the noble woman hehad, under some unknown impulse, sent to an unmerited doom.

  At last I slept, but it was only to rouse again with the same quickrealisation of my surroundings, which I had experienced on my recoveryfrom my fainting fit of hours before. Someone had stopped at our doorbefore hurrying by down the hall. Who was that someone? I rose on myelbow, and endeavoured to peer through the dark. Of course, I could seenothing. But when I woke a second time, there was enough light in theroom, early as it undoubtedly was, for me to detect a letter lying onthe carpet just inside the door.

  Instantly I was on my feet. Catching the letter up, I carried it tothe window. Our two names were on it--Mr. and Mrs. George Anderson: thewriting, Mr. Slater's.

  I glanced over at George. He was sleeping peacefully. It was too earlyto wake him, but I could not lay that letter down unread; was not myname on it? Tearing it open, I devoured its contents,--the exclamation Imade on reading it, waking George.

  The writing was in Mr. Slater's hand, and the words were:

  "I must request, at the instance of Coroner Heath and such of the police as listened to your adventure, that you make no further mention of what you saw in the street under our windows last night. The doctors find no bullet in the wound. This clears Mr. Brotherson."