The Deep Lake Mystery

“Yes, of course.”

Something about her manner was disconcerting. At least, it bothered the already harassed Coroner.

I was watching Alma Remsen closely, and it seemed to me she purposely tried to put the Coroner in wrong. There was no overt act or word, but her little glance of surprise or her glimmer of a smile made him seem blundering and inept, and I decided she had such intentions.

This did not lower her in my estimation; indeed, I was fast reaching a point where nothing could disparage her to me. It was not alone her beauty, though she looked fair and sweet to-day, but I was bowled over by her air of courage and determination.

That she had something to conceal, I was positive.

I knew she had been at Pleasure Dome the night of her uncle’s death, I knew she denied it. Fatuously I told myself she had her own good reasons for telling a falsehood, and I preferred to believe she was shielding another rather than herself.

Hart was proceeding.

“Were you alone with him?”

Alma’s pretty brows contracted in her effort to recollect.

“Most of the time,” she said, with the air of humouring an over-inquisitive child. “Mr. Everett was in and out of the room, and Mr. Dean, too, I think.”

“Where were you?”

“In my uncle’s sitting room in his own suite.”

“And then he gave you the silk waistcoats?”

“Yes.”

“Which are, you say, worn?”

“Y-yes.” There was a slight hesitation this time.

“But Griscom has stated they were nearly new. Why should he give them to you?”

Alma’s brows rose in distinct annoyance.

“The question of wear in such a garment is not a matter of fact, it is a matter of opinion. It may be that my uncle considered them more worn than Griscom did, or it may be that, since I admired them, my uncle was willing to part with them, even if they were nearly new. The fact remains, he gave them to me, for the purpose I have told you, and I cannot see what bearing it has on the matter of his death. He also gave me the Totem Pole, and I carried the things home, and inadvertently left them in the boathouse.”

Well, if that girl was a liar, she certainly was the cleverest one I had ever seen, and I didn’t for a minute believe she was lying.

I glanced at Keeley Moore, but nobody could read his inscrutable face.

I turned my attention to the jury.

Their interested countenances left no doubt of their sympathy with the witness and their readiness to accept her statements.

And apparently Hart himself believed in her. The explanation of the waistcoats was plausible enough. Doubtless, those rich men did give up their clothing before it was worn threadbare, especially if a pretty niece asked for it. And the Totem Pole, too. It was known that Sampson Tracy had been devoted to his niece, although they no longer lived in the same house, and for him to make her presents was far from unbelievable.

And, of course, I believed her.

Even if she had come to Pleasure Dome in the dead of night, that had nothing to do with the waistcoats, which, doubtless, were given to her exactly when and why she had stated.

Yet the girl seemed a mystery.

Coroner Hart contemplated her with a perplexed stare, which she in no way resented.

“Can I tell you anything more?” she asked, helpfully.

Then he glared at her.

“Not now, Miss Remsen,” he said, with a new note in his voice. It sounded almost menacing and Merry seemed to spring to attention. “I shall adjourn the inquest, as it was intended merely for identification purposes, and I must look into the case further before I can carry on properly. I will call at your house to-day, and investigate a few things.”

“Indeed, you’ll do nothing of the sort!”, Mrs. Merivale exclaimed, her eyes fairly snapping. They were dark, deep-set eyes, and her gray hair, in wisps round her thin gaunt face, shook with the intensity of her anger. “I’ll not have my lamb pestered by such nonsense! Ask her what you like now, and have done with it. But don’t come snooping about her home, for you won’t be let in!”

Alma quietly turned to the irate woman, and gave her a tender smile.

Then she said to Hart, quietly:

“Mrs. Merivale means no disrespect. She is ignorant of the workings of the law, and is quick to resent what she thinks an intrusion on my privacy. Keep still, Merry. The law must take its course.”

More, I felt certain, in response to a caressing touch on her shoulder than by Alma’s words, the woman subsided, muttering to herself, but saying nothing audible.

“It must, Miss Remsen,” Hart agreed. “I shall therefore call on you to-day, as well as on several other of the witnesses, and I adjourn this inquest for a week.”

Now it was Katherine Dallas’s turn to look apprehensive.

“I shall not be here,” she volunteered. “I am going away for a trip – ”

“Not just at present, Mrs. Dallas,” the Coroner said, sternly. I was surprised to note how much more master of himself he was when talking to this woman than when he addressed Alma. Yet, surely, the haughty and dignified widow was more awe-inspiring than the gentle girl.

Somehow, everybody seemed disturbed.

Harper Ames looked positively disgruntled. Both secretaries sat, with eyes cast down, as if dismayed at the way things were going. Clearly, there was disappointment that the matter could not be finished up then and there, one way or another.

I came to the conclusion that the Coroner was largely at fault. Apparently he knew little about conducting an inquest, and though he made no basic errors, he was distinctly floundering and decidedly out of his depth.

“There is much yet to be learned,” he announced, and we all, I am sure, silently agreed with him. “There are strange happenings to be explained, stories to be investigated, clues to be traced, evidence to be sifted, and until these things are done the jury cannot come to a decision. As they have seen and identified the deceased man, and have heard the detail of the finding of the body, the funeral may be held and the estate may be administered. But no witness may leave town, and all present must attend the resumed inquest one week from to-day.”

Again I looked at the principals. As I could take no part in the conversation, I contented myself with trying to read faces.

Nor was it difficult to do so.

Alma was trembling. Not only did her eyelids quiver, but she shook all over, though quite evidently trying to control herself. Merivale stood at her side; we had all risen now, and the girl leaned heavily upon the arm of the faithful nurse.

Katherine Dallas looked daggers at everybody. Whatever her reason, whatever her mental attitude, she appeared angry at the whole world and inclined to show it.

Ames maintained his usual aspect, which was that of grumpiness.

That is the only word that really describes that man. He was not actively angry, not exactly morose, but just grumpy, and it seemed to be his normal state.