The Holladay Case: A Tale Read online

  CHAPTER IV

  I Have an Inspiration

  I stared at the lines in dumb bewilderment. "The man Rogers is lying."But what conceivable motive could he have for lying? Besides, as Ilooked at him on the stand, I would have sworn that he was telling thetruth, and very much against his will. I had always rather pridedmyself upon my judgment of human nature--had I erred so egregiously inthis instance? "The woman who was with Holladay wore a gown of darkgreen." Who was the writer of the note? How did he know the color ofher gown? There was only one possible way he could know--he knew thewoman. Plainly, too, he must have been present at the morning hearing.But if he knew so much, why did he not himself come forward? To this,too, there was but one answer--he must be an accomplice. But then,again, if he were an accomplice, why should he imperil himself bywriting this note, for it could very probably be traced? I foundmyself deeper in the mire, farther from the light, at every step.

  "Do you wish to summon any witnesses, Mr. Royce?" asked the coroneragain. "I shall be glad to adjourn the hearing until to-morrow if youdo."

  Mr. Royce roused himself with an effort.

  "Thank you, sir," he said. "I may ask you to do that later on. Just atpresent, I wish to recall Mr. Rogers."

  "Very well," said the coroner, and Rogers was summoned from thewitness room.

  I looked at him attentively, trying to fathom his thoughts, to readbehind his eyes; but look as I might, I could see nothing in his facesave concern and grief. He had grown gray in Holladay's office; he hadproved himself, a hundred times, a man to be relied on; he had everyreason to feel affection and gratitude toward his employer, and I wascertain that he felt both; he received a liberal salary, I knew, andwas comfortably well-to-do.

  That he himself could have committed the crime or been concerned in itin any way was absolutely unthinkable. Yet why should he lie? Aboveall, why should he seek to implicate his employer's daughter? Even ifhe wished to implicate her, how could he have known the color of hergown? What dark, intricate problem was this that confronted us?

  In the moment that followed, I saw that Mr. Royce was studying him,too, was straining to find a ray of light for guidance. If we failednow----

  I read the note through again--"a gown of dark green"--and suddenly,by a kind of clairvoyance, the solution of the mystery leaped forthfrom it. I leaned over to my chief, trembling with eagerness.

  "Mr. Royce," I whispered hoarsely, "I believe I've solved the puzzle.Hold Rogers on the stand a few moments until I get back."

  He looked up at me astonished; then nodded, as I seized my hat, andpushed my way through the crowd. Once outside the building, I ran tothe nearest dry-goods house--three blocks away it was, and whatfearfully long blocks they seemed!--then back again to the courtroom.Rogers was still on the stand, but a glance at Mr. Royce told me thathe had elicited nothing new.

  "You take him, Lester," he said, as I sat down beside him. "I'm wornout."

  Quivering with apprehension, I arose. It was the first time I had beengiven the center of the stage in so important a case. Here was myopportunity! Suppose my theory should break down, after all!

  "Mr. Rogers," I began, "you've been having some trouble with youreyes, haven't you?"

  He looked at me in surprise.

  "Why, yes, a little," he said. "Nothing to amount to anything. Howdid you know?"

  My confidence had come back again. I was on the right track, then!

  "I did not know," I said, smiling for the first time since I hadentered the room. "But I suspected. I have here a number of pieces ofcloth of different colors. I should like you to pick out the one thatmost nearly approximates the color of the gown your visitor woreyesterday afternoon."

  I handed him the bundle of samples, and as I did so, I saw thedistrict attorney lean forward over his desk with attentive face. Thewitness looked through the samples slowly, while I watched him withfeverish eagerness. Mr. Royce had caught an inkling of my meaning andwas watching him, too.

  "There's nothing here," said Rogers, at last, "which seems quite theshade. But this is very near it."

  He held up one of the pieces. With leaping heart, I heard the gasp ofastonishment which ran around the room. The jurymen were leaningforward in their chairs.

  "And what is the color of that piece?" I asked.

  "Why, dark red. I've stated that already."

  I glanced triumphantly at the coroner.

  "Your honor," I said, as calmly as I could, "I think we've found theflaw in the chain. Mr. Rogers is evidently color-blind. As you see,the piece he has selected is a dark green."

  The whole audience seemed to draw a deep breath, and a little clatterof applause ran around the room. I could hear the scratch, scratch ofthe reporters' pencils--here was a situation after their hearts'desire! Mr. Royce had me by the hand, and was whispering brokenly inmy ear.

  "My dear fellow; you're the best of us all; I'll never forget it!"

  But Rogers was staring in amazement from me to the cloth in his hand,and back again.

  "Green!" he stammered. "Color-blind! Why, that's nonsense! I've neversuspected it!"

  "That's probable enough," I assented. "The failing is no doubt arecent one. Most color-blind persons don't know it until their sightis tested. Of course, we shall have an oculist examine you; but Ithink this evidence is pretty conclusive."

  Coroner Goldberg nodded, and the district attorney settled back in hischair.

  "We've no further questions to ask this witness at present," Icontinued. "Only I'd like you to preserve this piece of cloth, sir,"and I handed it to Goldberg. He placed it with the other exhibits onhis desk, and I sat down again beside my chief. He had regained allhis old-time energy and keenness--he seemed another man.

  "I should like to recall Miss Holladay's maid, if you please," hesaid; and the girl was summoned, while Rogers stumbled dazedly off tothe witness room.

  "You're quite sure your mistress wore a dark red gown yesterdayafternoon?" he asked, when the girl was on the stand again.

  "Oh, yes, sir; quite sure."

  "It was not dark green? Think carefully, now!"

  "I don't have to think!" she retorted sharply, with a toss of herhead. "Miss Holladay hasn't any dark green gown--nor light one,either. She never wears green--she doesn't like it--it doesn't suither."

  "That will do," said Mr. Royce, and the girl went back to the witnessroom without understanding in the least the meaning of the questions."Now, let us have the office-boy again," he said, and that youngworthy was called out.

  "You say you didn't see the face of that woman who left your officeyesterday afternoon?"

  "No, sir."

  "But you saw her gown?"

  "Oh, yes, sir."

  "And what color was it?"

  "Dark green, sir."

  "That will do," said our junior, and sank back in his chair with asigh of relief. The solution had been under our hands in the morning,and we had missed it! Well, we had found it now. "Gentlemen," headded, his voice a-ring, his face alight, as he sprang to his feet andfaced the jury, "I'm ready for your verdict. I wish only to point outthat with this one point, the whole case against my client falls tothe ground! It was preposterous from the very first!"

  He sat down again, and glanced at the coroner.

  "Gentlemen of the jury," began Goldberg, "I have merely to remind youthat your verdict, whatever it may be, will not finally affect thiscase. The police authorities will continue their investigations inorder that the guilty person may not escape. I conceive that it isnot within our province to probe this case further--that may be leftto abler and more experienced hands; nor do I think we shouldinculpate anyone so long as there is a reasonable doubt of his guilt.We await your verdict."

  The jury filed slowly out, and I watched them anxiously. In face ofthe coroner's instructions, they could bring in but one verdict; yet Iknew from experience that a jury is ever an unknown quantity, oftenproducing the most unexpected results.

  The district attorney came down from his seat
and shook hands withboth of us.

  "That was a great stroke!" he said, with frank admiration. "Whatevermade you suspect?"

  Mr. Royce handed him the note for answer. He read it through, andstared back at us in astonishment.

  "Why," he began, "who wrote this?"

  "That's the note that was delivered to us a while ago," answered Mr.Royce. "You know as much about it as we do. But it seems to me apretty important piece of evidence. I turn it over to you."

  "Important!" cried Singleton. "I should say so! Why, gentlemen," andhis eyes were gleaming, "this was written either by an accomplice orby the woman herself!"

  My chief nodded.

  "Precisely," he said. "I'd get on the track of the writer withoutdelay."

  Singleton turned and whispered a few words to a clerk, who hurriedfrom the room. Then he motioned to two smooth-faced, well-built menwho sat near by, spoke a word to the coroner, and retired with theminto the latter's private office. The reporters crowded about us withcongratulations and questions. They scented a mystery. What was thematter with Singleton? What was the new piece of evidence? Was it thenote? What was in the note?

  Mr. Royce smiled.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "I trust that my connection with this affairwill end in a very few minutes. For any further information, I mustrefer you to the district attorney--the case is in his hands."

  But those men he had summoned into his office were Karle and Johnston,the cleverest detectives on the force. What did he want with them? Mr.Royce merely shrugged his shoulders. Whereat the reporters desertedhim and massed themselves before the door into the coroner's room. Itopened in a moment, and the two detectives came hurrying out. Theylooked neither to the right nor left, but shouldered their way cruellythrough the crowd, paying not the slightest attention to the questionsshowered upon them. Then the district attorney came out, and took inthe situation at a glance.

  "Gentlemen," he said, raising his voice, "I can answer no questions. Imust request you to resume your seats, or I shall ask the coroner toclear the room."

  They knew that he meant what he said, so they went back to theirchairs chagrined, disgusted, biting their nails, striving vainly towork out a solution to the puzzle. It was the coroner's clerk whocreated a diversion.

  "The jury is ready to report, sir," he announced.

  "Very well; bring them out," and the jurymen filed slowly back totheir seats. I gazed at each face, and cursed the inexpressiveness ofthe human countenance.

  "Have you arrived at a verdict, gentlemen?" asked the coroner.

  "We have, sir," answered one of them, and handed a paper to the clerk.

  "Is this your verdict, gentlemen?" asked the coroner. "Do you allconcur in it?"

  They answered in the affirmative as their names were called.

  "The clerk will read the verdict," said Goldberg.

  Julius stood up and cleared his throat.

  "We, the jury," he read, "impaneled in the case of Hiram W. Holladay,deceased, do find that he came to his death from a stab wound in theneck, inflicted by a pen-knife in the hands of a person or personsunknown."