V
Once inside the house Willoughby became a genial host, inquiring of the officers if they desired anything to drink, and when Dwyer accepted with alacrity, he ordered the butler to serve all present.
Dwyer wandered about the room for a few moments, touching a bit of furniture here, a drapery there, and puffing viciously on a strong and vile smelling cigar. After he had swallowed a large drink of old whiskey, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, he asked that Mrs. Willoughby be called.
"You heard this fellow scream?" he said turning to Lannen, while they waited for her appearance.
"Yes."
"Wake you up?"
"No, I was awake."
"How's that? Insomnia? What time did he scream?"
"About half-past four. I should judge. No, I don't suffer with insomnia. I'm usually a heavy sleeper."
"Something else wakened you then?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"That's hard to say. Possibly being in a strange room and bed. I'm a guest here, you know, possibly the quiet of the country after the city — or — I fancied I heard foot-steps outside my door."
Willoughby leaned forward.
His black eyes lightened, the pupils became mere pin points.
"What kind of foot-steps?" inquired Dwyer.
"That I can't state. I'm not prepared to say that I heard any. I may have fancied I did. If I did hear them, they were very soft — cautious I should say."
"A man's or a woman's?"
"I don't know — but I think a man's."
Willoughby sank back in the chair, gripping the arms of it with long stained fingers.
"How long after you heard these foot-steps was it that you heard this scream?"
"I should judge thirty minutes. I lay in bed some little time, then unable to sleep I got up and sat by the window."
"Does your window face those greenhouses?"
"Yes."
"Did you see this man enter the grounds?"
"No, I had left die window when he screamed."
"And you saw nothing suspicious out there?"
Lannen hesitated. He caught the glance his host directed toward him. and coughed. Something impelled him to say "No."
Louise Willoughby came into the room. She had removed her be-draggled evening gown, and had replaced it with a tea gown of lavender satin and lace. Her face was ghastly pale in the morning light. Her eyes wide and very dark.
Lannen suddenly felt a great pity for her. Her heavy mass of dark red hair she had let down and braided into a great rope which hung over one shoulder. It made her look younger, almost girlish.
At her entrance Willoughby merely raised his head, looked at her a second, then back toward the inspector.
She accepted the chair Lannen offered her.
"You wished to see me?" she said.
"Yes, Mrs. Willoughby. I'm sorry to disturb you, but this unfortunate death on your grounds makes it necessary." Dwyer's voice unconsciously softened as he addressed her.
"I understand. Please pardon my appearance, I had gone to bed."
"You were the first to find the dead man's body, weren't you, Mrs. Willoughby?"
"Yes."
"You were alone?"
"No." Her gaze did not falter, nor did she look at her husband.
"Who was with you?"
"A young man, Mr. Altering."
"Did this young man — Mr. Allering — see—?"
She interrupted him. "We both saw him fall!"
"Fall! The man wasn't dead when you first saw him?"
The woman bit her lip. Then she shook her head. "No, Mr. Allering and I were in the arbor near the greenhouses. We saw a man climb over the fence. He staggered. Then — then—," her eyes shifted and rested on the face of her husband.
Willoughby was yellow. His black eyes like beads stared at her with all the fascination of a snake coiled to spring.
She shivered — "Then — he gave a terrible cry, flung up his arms and fell over writhing. I think he died instantly. I screamed too. It was horrible to see a man die. Then I started to run. He lay in my pathway. It was dark — the moon went" under a cloud right after it happened. I fell — I touched his cold face—"
She paused, staring straight ahead of her as if visualizing what had taken place.
"That is all?" said Dwyer.
"Yes." Lannen wondered if Dwyer realized the woman was lying.
"Where is this Allering now?" the officer inquired, looking about.
The servants, who had come into the room on returning to the house, shook their heads.
"I don't know," Mrs. Willoughby answered.
"Probably in his room," snapped her husband, speaking for the first time. "He is the gardener employed here."
Dwyer merery raised his eyebrows. He studied the pale patrician face of the woman, then turned to one of his assistants. "Riley, go with a servant to get him."
VI
Dwyer and his medical adviser again traversed the lawn to the greenhouses. Lannen went with them. The operator whom Dwyer had left in charge of the body grinned a sickly welcome as they approached. Again Lannen note" d the dripping hydrant. Dwyer stalked about the grounds. Crossing to the greenhouses he opened a door and stepped inside.
He was gone but a moment. When he returned, he made a survey of the arbor, and the stone wall which surrounded the grounds. The grass was trampled and crushed; but no definite footprints were discernible.
"Stevens, go back to the house and see what's the matter that Riley hasn't found that gardener," he said abruptly.
The medical examiner, whose attention had been centered on the dead man, looked up quickly.
"It's heart failure alright, Dwyer," he said.
Dwyer merely grunted.
The man who had been with the body hitched his trousers, and passed the back of a hairy hand across his mouth. He started briskly toward the house, paused abruptly and whirling around, crossed to the hydrant. As he stopped to drink from the faucet, Lannen cried out in an unnatural voice.
"Don't do that!"
The young officer straightened abruptly. "Speaking to me?" he asked.
"Yes."
"What's the matter?"
"Don't touch that hydrant."
Stevens came closer.
"I don't understand," he said.
Wondering if he were making a fool of himself, or if what Allering had said were true, Lannen hesitated. The inspector looked at him inquiringly. Lannen laughed nervously.
"Well?" said Dwyer.
He removed his horn rimmed glasses, and polished them vigorously. His keen eyes squinted. Lannen inwardly squirmed under the scrutiny.
"I may be mistaken," the lawyer said uneasily, "but I'm under the impression that the man died after drinking from that faucet." Stevens whistled.
Lannen realized he had told too much to withhold any more, and continued quietly.
"Allering came to me after Mrs. Willoughby retired. He said the dead man took a drink, then fell writhing to the ground. He may have imagined it. I don't know — but it's well to take no chances."
"Mrs. Willoughby did not mention this."
"No."
"Where did Allering go? Why hasn't Riley found him?"
"I don't know."
"Well," mused the inspector — "it's damned queer. We'll get a glass, and test this water."
"Here's a tin cup," said the younger officer, reaching for one which hung on a nail just below the hydrant.
Lannen suddenly remembered the gardener's words, when he mentioned the caution Willoughby had exercised in wiping the moisture from the faucet. He stepped forward quietly and drawing his handkerchief from his pocket, he wrapped it about his hand before turning the spicket, then he drew some water and handed it to the medical examiner.