The Leavenworth Case

‘Is this it?’ exclaimed a voice over my shoulder.

It was Mr Gryce, and he was holding up into view a half-burned paraffin candle.

‘Yes, sir; lor’, where did you find it?’

‘In the grass of the carriage yard, half-way from the kitchen door to the street,’ he quietly returned.

Sensation. A clue, then, at last! Something had been found which seemed to connect this mysterious murder with the outside world. Instantly the back door assumed the chief position of interest. The candle found lying in the yard seemed to prove, not only that Hannah had left the house shortly after descending from her room, but had left it by the back door, which we now remembered was only a few steps from the iron gate opening into the side street. But Thomas, being recalled, repeated his assertion that not only the back door, but all the lower windows of the house, had been found by him securely locked and bolted at six o’clock that morning. Inevitable conclusion—someone had locked and bolted them after the girl. Who? Alas, that had now become the very serious and momentous question.

CHAPTER V (#ulink_a7083f6f-4e15-5469-9cd7-a7a781bbdf25)

EXPERT TESTIMONY (#ulink_a7083f6f-4e15-5469-9cd7-a7a781bbdf25)

‘And often-times, to win us to our harm,

The instruments of darkness tell us truths;

Win us with honest trifles, to betray us

In deepest consequence.’

—MACBETH

IN the midst of the universal gloom thus awakened there came a sharp ring at the bell. Instantly all eyes turned toward the parlour door, just as it slowly opened, and the officer who had been sent off so mysteriously by the coroner an hour before entered, in company with a young man, whose sleek appearance, intelligent eye, and general air of trustworthiness, seemed to proclaim him to be, what in fact he was, the confidential clerk of a responsible mercantile house.

Advancing without apparent embarrassment, though each and every eye in the room was fixed upon him with lively curiosity, he made a slight bow to the coroner.

‘You have sent for a man from Bohn & Co.,’ he said.

Strong and immediate excitement. Bohn & Co. was the well-known pistol and ammunition store of Broadway.

‘Yes, sir,’ returned the coroner. ‘We have here a bullet, which we must ask you to examine. You are fully acquainted with all matters connected with your business?’

The young man, merely elevating an expressive eyebrow, took the bullet carelessly in his hand.

‘Can you tell us from what make of pistol that was delivered?’

The young man rolled it slowly round between his thumb and forefinger, and then laid it down. ‘It is a No. 32 ball, usually sold with the small pistol made by Smith & Wesson.’

‘A small pistol!’ exclaimed the butler, jumping up from his seat. ‘Master used to keep a little pistol in his stand drawer. I have often seen it. We all knew about it.’

Great and irrepressible excitement, especially among the servants. ‘That’s so!’ I heard a heavy voice exclaim. ‘I saw it once myself—master was cleaning it.’ It was the cook who spoke.

‘In his stand drawer?’ the coroner inquired.

‘Yes, sir; at the head of his bed.’

An officer was sent to examine the stand drawer. In a few moments he returned, bringing a small pistol which he laid down on the coroner’s table, saying, ‘Here it is.’

Immediately, everyone sprang to his feet, but the coroner, handing it over to the clerk from Bohn’s, inquired if that was the make before mentioned. Without hesitation he replied, ‘Yes, Smith & Wesson; you can see for yourself,’ and he proceeded to examine it.

‘Where did you find this pistol?’ asked the coroner of the officer.

‘In the top drawer of a shaving table standing near the head of Mr Leavenworth’s bed. It was lying in a velvet case together with a box of cartridges, one of which I bring as a sample,’ and he laid it down beside the bullet.

‘Was the drawer locked?’

‘Yes, sir; but the key was not taken out.’

Interest had now reached its climax. A universal cry swept through the room, ‘Is it loaded?’

The coroner, frowning on the assembly, with a look of great dignity, remarked:

‘I was about to ask that question myself, but first I must request order.’

An immediate calm followed. Everyone was too much interested to interpose any obstacle in the way of gratifying his curiosity.

‘Now, sir!’ exclaimed the coroner.

The clerk from Bonn’s, taking out the cylinder, held it up. ‘There are seven chambers here, and they are all loaded.’

A murmur of disappointment followed this assertion.

‘But,’ he quietly added after a momentary examination of the face of the cylinder, ‘they have not all been loaded long. A bullet has been recently shot from one of these chambers.’

‘How do you know?’ cried one of the jury.

‘How do I know? Sir,’ said he, turning to the coroner, ‘will you be kind enough to examine the condition of this pistol?’ and he handed it over to that gentleman. ‘Look first at the barrel; it is clean and bright, and shows no evidence of a bullet having passed out of it very lately; that is because it has been cleaned. But now, observe the face of the cylinder: what do you see there?’

‘I see a faint line of smut near one of the chambers.’

‘Just so; show it to the gentlemen.’

It was immediately handed down.

‘That faint line of smut, on the edge of one of the chambers, is the tell-tale, sirs. A bullet passing out always leaves smut behind. The man who fired this, remembering the fact, cleaned the barrel, but forgot the cylinder.’ And stepping aside he folded his arms.

‘Jerusalem!’ spoke out a rough, hearty voice, ‘isn’t that wonderful!’ This exclamation came from a countryman who had stepped in from the street, and now stood agape in the doorway.

It was a rude but not altogether unwelcome interruption. A smile passed round the room, and both men and women breathed more easily. Order being at last restored, the officer was requested to describe the position of the stand, and its distance from the library table.

‘The library table is in one room, and the stand in another. To reach the former from the latter, one would be obliged to cross Mr Leavenworth’s bedroom in a diagonal direction, pass through the passageway separating that one apartment from the other, and—’

‘Wait a moment; how does this table stand in regard to the door which leads from the bedroom into the hall?’

‘One might enter that door, pass directly round the foot of the bed to the stand, procure the pistol, and cross half-way over to the passageway, without being seen by anyone sitting or standing in the library beyond.’

‘Holy Virgin!’ exclaimed the horrified cook, throwing her apron over her head as if to shut out some dreadful vision. ‘Hannah niver would have the pluck for that; niver, niver!’ But Mr Gryce, laying a heavy hand on the woman, forced her back into her seat, reproving and calming her at the same time, with a dexterity marvellous to behold. ‘I beg your pardons,’ she cried deprecatingly to those around; ‘but it niver was Hannah, niver!’