The Mark of Cain

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” said Judge Hoyt. “I find them very interesting. Do you always see things clearly, Terence?”

“It isn’t seeing clearly,” said Fibsy, with an earnest face, “it’s seein’ true. Now, f’r instance, Mr. Coroner, is the number for six o’clock, on your watch, a figger or a VI?”

“I cannot allow this child’s play,” and Mr. Berg looked decidedly angry.

“But that’s rather a good one,” said Judge Hoyt. “Come, now, Berg, do you know which it is?”

“Certainly I do,” Berg snapped out. “It’s the Roman letters, VI.”

“Yessir?” said Fibsy, eagerly. “An’ are they right side up, or upside down, as you hold Twelve at the top?”

Berg thought a moment. “As I hold Twelve at the top, they’re upside down, of course. All the numbers have their base toward the centre of the dial.”

“Then the Six on your watch is VI, with the tops of the letters next the rim of the watch?”

“It is,” said Berg, adding sneeringly, “would you like to see it?”

“Yessir,” and Fibsy darted forward.

The coroner snapped his watch open, and after a brief glance, the boy gave a quick little wag of his head, and went back to his seat without a word.

But the man flushed a fiery red, and his pompous air deserted him.

“Were you right, Berg?” asked Judge Hoyt. “Come now, own up?”

“A very natural error,” mumbled the coroner, and then Detective Groot pounced on him, demanding to see his watch.

“Why, there’s no six on it at all!” he cried and then gave an uncontrollable guffaw. “There’s only a round place with the second hand into it!”

“This tomfoolery must be stopped,” began the coroner, but he had to pause in his speech until the ripple of merriment had subsided and the jury had realized afresh the seriousness of their purpose.

“Hold on Berg, that’s a fairly good one on a coroner,” said Judge Hoyt, a little severely. “Have you looked at that watch for years and didn’t know there was no six on it?”

“I s’pose I have. I never thought about it.”

“It does show the unreliability of testimony intended to be truthful,” and Hoyt spoke thoughtfully. “Terence, how did you know Mr. Berg’s watch had a second hand instead of the six numeral?”

“I didn’t know a thing about it. But I wanted to see if he did. It might of been a six upside down fer all o’ me, but most watches has second hands there and most people don’t know it. I got it out of a book. People don’t see true. They think a watch has gotter say six o’clock, they don’t remember it might mean it but not say it.”

Again Hoyt gave the boy a look of appreciation. “Keen-witted,” he said to himself. “Ought to make his mark.” And then he glanced back to the discomfited coroner.

CHAPTER VII

STEPHANOTIS

Now Mr. Berg’s disposition was of the sort that when offended, desires to take it out of some one else rather than to retaliate on the offender. So, after a little further questioning of the still bewildered Swede he turned again to Landon.

“Let us dismiss the matter of the Swede and his evidence,” he said, lightly, “and resume the trend of our investigations. Do I understand, Mr. Landon, that you expect to inherit a legacy from your late uncle?”

Landon’s eyes flashed. “I don’t know what you understand, Mr. Coroner. As a matter of fact, I haven’t much opinion of your understanding. But I know nothing of the legacy you speak of, save that my uncle said to me yesterday, that he would leave me fifty thousand dollars in his will. Whether he did or not, I do not know.”

The statement was made carelessly, as most of Kane Landon’s statements were, and he seemed all unaware of the conclusions immediately drawn from his words.

“Judge Hoyt,” said the coroner, turning to the lawyer, “are you acquainted with the terms of Mr. Trowbridge’s will?”

“Most certainly, as I drew up the document,” was the answer.

“Is Kane Landon a beneficiary?”

“Yes; to the extent of fifty thousand dollars.”

It was impossible not to note the gleam of satisfaction that came into Landon’s eyes at this news. Hoyt gave him a stare of utter scorn and Avice looked amazed and grieved.

“You seem pleased at the information, Mr. Landon,” the coroner observed.

Landon favored him with a calm, indifferent glance and made no response.

Berg turned again to Miss Wilkinson, the blonde stenographer.

“Will you tell me,” he said, “if you know, what caused Mr. Trowbridge to leave his office early, yesterday?”

The girl hesitated. She shot a quick glance at Landon, and then looked down again. She fidgeted with her handkerchief, and twice essayed to speak, but did not finish.

“Come,” said Berg, sharply, “I am waiting.”

“I don’t know,” said Miss Wilkinson at last.

Fibsy gave a quick whistle. “She does know,” he declared; “she takes all the telephone calls, and she knows the G’uvnor went out ’cause somebody telephoned for him.”

“Is this true?” asked Berg of the girl.

“How can I tell?” she retorted, pertly. “Mr. Trowbridge had a lot of telephone calls yesterday, and I don’t know whether he went out because of one of them or not. I don’t listen to a telephone conversation after Mr. Trowbridge takes the wire.”

“You do so!” said Fibsy, in a conversational tone. “Mr. Berg, Yellowtop told me just after the Guv’nor went out, that he’d gone ’cause somebody asked him over the wire to go to Van Cortlandt Park.”

“Tell the truth,” said Berg to the girl, curtly.

“Well, I just as lief,” she returned; “but it ain’t my way to tell of private office matters in public.”

“Make it your way, now, then. It’s time you understand the seriousness of this occasion!”

“All right. Somebody, then, – some man, – did call Mr. Trowbridge about two o’clock, and asked him to go to Van Cortlandt Park.”

“What for? Did he say?”

“Yes, he said somebody had set a trap for him.”

“Set a trap for him! What did he mean?”