The Man Who Fell Through the Earth

It was only a tiny scrap of pinkish paper, thin and greatly crumpled. I took it.

“Be careful,” warned Norah; “I don’t suppose it could show finger prints, but anyway, it’s a sort of a kind of a clew.”

“But what is it?” I asked, blankly, as I held the crumpled paper gingerly in thumb and forefinger.

“It’s a powder-paper,” vouchsafed Norah, briefly.

“A what?”

“A powder-paper. Women carry them, – they come in little books. That’s one of the leaves. They’re to rub on your face, and the powder comes off on your nose or cheeks.”

“Is that so? I never saw any before.”

“Lots of girls use them.” Norah’s clear, wholesome complexion refuted any idea of her needing such, and she spoke a bit scornfully.

“Proving once more the presence of what Friend Hudson calls a femmy,” I smiled.

“Yes; but these things have great individuality, Mr. Brice. This is of exceedingly fine quality, it has a distinct, definite fragrance, and is undoubtedly an imported article, – from France, likely.”

“Can they get such things over now?”

“Oh, pshaw, it may have been imported before the war. This quality would keep its odor forever! Anyway, don’t you believe we could trace the woman who used it and left it there? It must have happened yesterday, for the basket is, of course, emptied every day in that office.”

“Good girl, Norah!” and I nodded approval. “You are truly a She Sherlock! A bit intimate, isn’t it, for a woman to powder her nose in a man’s office?”

“Not at all, Mr. Old Fogey! Why, you can see the girls doing that everywhere, nowadays. In the street-cars, in the theater, – anywhere.”

“All right. How do you propose to proceed?”

“I think I’ll go to the smartest Fifth Avenue perfume shops and try to get a line on the maker of this paper.”

My door opened then, and the Chief of Police stood in the doorway.

“Will you come over, across the hall, Mr. Brice?” he said.

“May I come?” piped up Norah, and without waiting for the answer, which, by the way, never came, she followed us.

“We have learned a great deal,” began the Chief, as I waited, inquiringly. “And, now think carefully, Mr. Brice, I want you to tell me if the head you saw shadowed on the door, could by any possibility have been a woman’s head?”

“I think it could have been, Chief; we’ve been talking that over, and I’m prepared to say that it could have been, – but I don’t think it was.”

“And the shoulders? Though broad, like a man’s, might not a woman’s figure, say, wrapped in furs, give a similar effect?”

An icy chill went through me, but I answered, “It might; the outlines were very indistinct.”

“We are carefully investigating the movements of Miss Raynor,” he went on, steadily, “and we find she told a deliberate untruth about where she spent yesterday afternoon. She said she was at the house of a friend on Park Avenue. We learned the name of the young lady and she says Miss Raynor was not there at all yesterday. Also, we find that Miss Raynor was in this office after the calls of the old people we know about, and not before them, as Miss Raynor herself testified.”

“But – ” I began.

“Wait a moment, please. This is positively proved by the fact that a check drawn to Miss Raynor by Mr. Gately follows immediately after the two checks drawn to Mr. Smith and Mrs. Driggs.”

“Proving?” I gasped.

“That Miss Raynor is the last one known to be in this room before the shooting occurred.”

“Oh,” cried Norah, “for shame! To suspect that lovely girl! Why, she wouldn’t harm a fly!”

“Do you know her?”

“No, sir; but – ”

“It is an oft proven fact that the mildest, gentlest woman, if sufficiently provoked to it, or if given a sudden opportunity, will in a moment of passion do what no one would dream she could do! Miss Raynor was very angry with her uncle, – Jenny admitted that, after much delay. Mr. Gately had a revolver, usually in his desk drawer, but not there now. And,” – an impressive pause preceded the next argument, “Mr. Amory Manning is not to be found.”

“What do you deduce from that?” I asked, amazedly.

“That he has purposely disappeared, lest he be brought as a witness against Miss Raynor. He could best help her cause, by being out of town and impossible to locate. So, he went off, and she pretended she did not know it. Of course, she did, – they connived at it – ”

“Stop!” I cried, “you are romancing. You are assuming conditions that are untrue!”

“I wish it were so,” and the Chief exhibited a very human aspect for the moment; “but I have no choice in the matter. I am driven by an inexorable army of facts that cannot be beaten back. What else can you think of that would account for Mr. Manning’s sudden disappearance? Attacked? Nonsense! Not in the storm of last evening. Abducted? Why? He is an inoffensive citizen, not a millionaire or man of influence. You said you saw him last night, Mr. Brice. Where, exactly, was that?”

I told of my trip down in the Third Avenue car, and of my getting off at Twenty-second Street, meaning to speak to Mr. Manning. Then I told of his sudden, almost mysterious disappearance.

“Not mysterious at all,” said the Chief. “He gave you the slip purposely. He went away at once, and has hidden himself carefully. But we will find him. It’s not easy for a man to hide from the police in this day and generation!”

“But, Miss Raynor!” I said, still incredulous. “Why? What motive?”

“Because her uncle wouldn’t let her marry Amory Manning. When she said she went to her friend, Miss Clark’s house, she really went to the home of a Mrs. Russell, the sister of Manning. She was to meet Manning there. I have all this straight from Mrs. Russell.”

“And you think it was Miss Raynor’s shadow I saw on the door!”

“You said it might have been a woman.”

“Very well, then look for another woman! It was never Miss Raynor!”

“Your indignation, Mr. Brice, is both natural and admirable, but it is based on your disinclination to think ill of Miss Raynor. The police are not allowed the luxury of such sentiments.”

“But – but – how did she – how did Miss Raynor get out of the room?”

“We do not entirely credit Jenny’s story of the man with a revolver running downstairs. And we do think that the person who did the shooting may have gone down in the private elevator with the victim. It would be easy to gain the street unnoticed, and it presupposes someone acquainted with the working of the automatic elevator.”

“But Miss Raynor said she had never seen it,” I cried, triumphantly. “She said she had only heard her uncle speak of it!”

“I know she said so,” returned the Chief.

CHAPTER VII

Hudson’s Errand