Being convinced, so beyond all doubt or question that any idea to the contrary never entered her mind, that both her mission and missions justified the invasion of another woman’s home to any required limit, especially when that woman selfishly attempted to avoid the visitation — or so one would gather from Mrs. Garford’s statements — she was about to draw aside these curtains and enter the front room when the toe of her shoe struck something that, her “psychic sensibilities” at once told her, she said, was a human body.
Mrs. Garford had “almost stepped on” the body of Harriet Smith, fully clothed, lying on the floor of the living-room, with the head resting on the small brass running-rail of the folding-doors, which were open for a space of about nine inches, just wide enough to permit the head to lie between them.
The condition of the body, especially that of the head, was such that it required only the momentary glance which Mrs. Garford gave it to show that Mrs. Smith was dead, and had been killed by someone who had indulged in a veritable frenzy of murder.
Omitting the gruesome details described by the coroner’s physician in his testimony, it was evident that the weapon used had been both sharp and heavy, possibly, it was at first assumed, an axe. With some such weapon the head had been cut and battered out of all human semblance, and the trunk and limbs hacked and bruised in a score of places. Either the woman put up a strong and prolonged resistance, or, as seemed far more likely, the murderer had not been content with killing his victim, but indulged his anger or hatred to the limit of disfiguration.
The physician’s expressed opinion was that death had been practically instantaneous, from some one of the numerous head wounds, and that life had been extinct about thirty-six hours, with the possibility that the period between the murder and the finding of the body might have been longer or shorter by three or four hours either way.
Chapter III
It was only after the house and neighborhood had been searched repeatedly that the weapon which had been used was discovered. This difficulty and delay had been due, as in Poe’s “Purloined Letter,” to the object sought being concealed by its very obviousness. Credit must be given to the prosecuting attorney, who personally was assisting the sheriff and local police in their investigations, for finding the heavy artillery sabre. It hung in plain view above the mantelpiece of the living-room, immediately under a crayon portrait of Harriet Smith, even this work of “art” not being able to destroy her reputation for fascinating beauty.
The prosecuting attorney had been gazing fixedly at this portrait of the murdered woman, with an expression on his face that might have been inspired by a feeling of the stern retributive justice he was called upon to enforce, or, possibly only of sorrow that such awful tragedy should snuff out the life of so charming a woman. Whatever his personal emotion, it gave way to his official keenness of observation when his eye fell upon the ornament that had reverted to its original purpose, the destruction of human life. This reversion was not apparent, however, as there was nothing in its appearance, as it rested in its usual place upon the wall, to indicate that it had been disturbed since it first had been hung from the picture molding. Justice may be blind, but the prosecuting attorney, as her advocate, was not, even to the possession, it would seem, of a power of penetration not given to ordinary mortals.
When the sheriff attempted to pull the blade from its scabbard it stuck for a moment and then came free with a jerk. It was at once apparent that the resistance was due to the blood with which it was thickly covered. It was evident that no attempt to remove this had been made by the murderer. He had been either too callous or too hurried to do more than return the sabre to its scabbard and replace it upon the wall. A closer examination also disclosed the fact that the sword was not, as is usual, dull according to army regulations, but had been sharpened to a keen, cutting edge. It was the marked curve of this blade, peculiar to old-style artillery sabres, that had been responsible for the first assumption that the wounds had been made with an axe.
The prosecuting attorney also was responsible for the further discovery, in a closet on the second floor, of a pair of low canvas shoes and a pair of heavy cotton work gloves. The ownership of these articles was acknowledged by Samuel Smith, the accused, when confronted with them during the trial. All four of these pieces of wearing apparel had been so literally soaked with blood that comment was made, by one of the deputy sheriffs, that “he must have dabbled them in it.” During the trial it was stated by the prosecution, and not contradicted by the defense, that these had been worn by the murderer — the rubber-soled shoes to enable him to creep upon his victim silently, the gloves to prevent tell-tale finger marks. The failure to destroy these damning pieces of evidence was ascribed to carelessness and misplaced confidence upon the part of the prisoner in being able to prove an alibi.
Nothing further was deemed necessary by the officials to warrant the arrest of Samuel Smith on the charge of having murdered his wife. This arrest accordingly was made on the afternoon of the fourteenth of November, when the accused was found on the edge of town farthest from his home, but walking toward it.
When apprehended Smith had not been advised of the charge laid against him until after he had been lodged in jail. While offering no resistance, he had earnestly protested against his arrest. He proclaimed both innocence and ignorance of any crime or misdemeanor that would justify it, and demanded that the accusation against him be stated immediately. Through some official misunderstanding or oversight it was not, in fact, until that evening, after dark, that he was told the reason for his arrest. It was then that the prosecuting attorney, having discovered the omission, hastened to the jail to explain in person.
Stifling his natural horror of the deed and abhorrence of the perpetrator of it, the prosecuting attorney had displayed great consideration and humanity in choosing his words and in his manner of speaking when he told Samuel Smith that his crime had been discovered; the body and incriminating evidence found. Indeed, he had been quite severely criticized by a number of the townspeople for being so “mealy-mouthed” in “confronting that Molochian monster with his heinous homicide” — the quotations being from the account published in the weekly newspaper of L—.
The prisoner had added considerably to the resentment felt against him by his manner of receiving the news and his attitude and actions during the interview in jail with the prosecutor.
At first he did not seem to realize the portent of the prosecuting attorney’s opening remarks, and, the latter said in describing the incident, pretended not to comprehend that his wife was actually dead. When disgusted with the man’s pretensions of ignorance, the Attorney had bluntly stated the bald fact of the mutilated condition in which the body of Harriet Smith had been found, the prisoner had simulated overpowering shock. He staggered to the cell cot on which he fell, or sat, with his head in his hands. He remained in this attitude, silent, for over a minute, until the representative of the law impatiently ordered him to cease his mummery. Then he sprang to his feet with a single, sharp, inarticulate exclamation, and would have attacked the prosecuting attorney if it had not been for the fortunate presence of the deputy sheriff, who restrained him by force. Subsequent to this one outburst Smith had assumed and maintained that attitude of cool aloofness, apparently almost of indifference, in which he had obstinately persisted until the very end of the trial.
Later, in interviews with the police, newspaper-men and one or two privileged citizens, including the rector of St. Luke’s, Smith talked freely of the affair and seemed, if anything, anxious to discuss every possible detail of the case. It was as if he was an interested onlooker, rather than the mortal most vitally concerned in the murder and the proceedings that were the outcome of that crime.