“No,” I answered. “No, I did not think to notice.”
“It all hinges upon that,” he said. “Let us go.”
We arrived at the Claridge a moment before two. The elevator boy was waiting for us.
“They are all upstairs,” he said.
As we approached the door to the room I could see that, indeed, they were all within; all who had been present in the morning. At the side of the door was Larkin, from Headquarters. He stepped down the hall to meet us.
“They tell me, Mr. Meroe,” he remarked drily, “that you are attempting to build a murder out of a case of heart failure.”
“Perhaps,” smiled Meroe, making his way through the door and on past the assembly into the bedroom.
He was followed with curious eyes. In a moment he appeared again. There was a blank expression on his face as he looked at the coroner.
“The bodies have been removed, Mr. Meroe,” he was informed.
“Are they with Jordan?”
“Yes.”
“Then I must phone Jordan.”
As Meroe disappeared there was a great murmur of voices. Upon his return he stepped behind the table on the left of which were the coroner, Barhart, Grover and the house doctor.
“I will begin,” said Meroe, “by telling you what I have been able to discover about Mr. and Mrs. Brentore, the deceased. They were a lonely, childless couple, at one time poor. Five years ago Mr. Brentore came into sudden wealth through interests in an African diamond project. He had originally been a jeweler of no great repute, forced to struggle to make food and clothing above the rent of the shop. Three years ago he sold his business and retired with his wife to this suite at the Claridge to live until old age should overtake them, which they did not expect would be very many years.
“The nearest relative to either of them was an elder sister of Mr. Brentore, who died in Brattlenook, New Jersey, leaving a grown son by the name of Roderick Latimer. Of the character of this man I will not venture to speak other than that he took a great interest in the suddenly acquired fortune of his Uncle Brentore, whom he had never seen.
“One day a man by the name of Dr. Kramer registered at the Hotel Braymore. He was from Brattlenook, New Jersey. He called upon Mr. and Mrs. Brentore, telling them that their nephew, Roderick Latimer, was one of his best friends, and had asked him to call upon them. Mr. Brentore was immediately interested, for he had often wished to know more of this nephew than he had heard from his sister before her death.
“One evening Dr. Kramer called again and found Mrs. Brentore indisposed. He volunteered his services, saying that he had given up his practice upon leaving Brattlenook, but would be very glad to render service to either of them at any time it might be needed. Curiously enough, Mr. and Mrs. Brentore, from then on, became more and more in need of these services. Their health commenced to fail. As time went on there came a thought which very often comes to men of failing health who are burdened with wealth. He had not, made a will. Perhaps, yes, perhaps this was even suggested by Dr. Kramer. At least they talked together about this nephew who was Brentore’s only relative.
“A decision was at hand. But he was evidently not satisfied with secondhand knowledge of this Latimer from one who had been a stranger until so recently. There was an old boyhood friend of Mr. Brentore’s living in Brattlenook. His name was Goodnow. He telegraphed, asking Goodnow to look up Latimer and report results by wire. This was done, and the report received by Brentore was favorable, so he made an appointment with Harding, of the Mentor Building, to draw up the will. Then he telegraphed Goodnow to inform Latimer of what he had done, and to ask him, Latimer, to come at his earliest opportunity at his, Brentore’s, expense, for a short visit here at the Claridge.
“That was yesterday. Goodnow sent a night letter to Brentore, which arrived this morning. In endeavoring to see that Mr. Brentore received this message, Mr. Barhart discovered both Mr. and Mrs. Brentore dead. I will read you the message.
“ ‘Evidently you did not receive former telegram. Latimer disappeared four months ago in face of heavy debts. Advise you retract will immediately.’
“Now Brentore had received a favorable report, apparently from Goodnow. So you see the unfavorable telegram had been intercepted and the favorable one substituted. I found from Western Union that the correct telegram left their office.
“Now at this point let me remind you that Dr. Kramer was seen to enter this room yesterday afternoon at four. That the janitor who came here a month ago with only Dr. Kramer’s recommendation was seen to leave this room at about five. This morning it was discovered that the janitor had disappeared. And since then I have discovered something which may interest you — i. e., that Dr. Kramer has disappeared from his quarters at the Braymore!”
III
There was a murmuring at this, and Meroe waited for it to subside before he continued.
“Much of the above information not obtainable here at the Claridge I obtained from Frank S. Harding, whom I discovered to be the lawyer engaged to draw up the will. Some of it I have inferred as necessary to make the tale coherent. And now we will approach what I still choose to consider a mystery, from another angle...
“It has to do with Henry Grover here, who came to me at six-thirty this morning, over half an hour before Mr. Barhart had entered the room. Mr. Grover occupies a room directly opposite this one at the Buckminster. He came to me rather distressed because yesterday afternoon at five, or a little after, he had been disturbed by the figure of a woman with slightly gray hair and a dark brown dress who stared at him from this room. Soon he discovered that she was not staring at him, but at a man who was evidently talking to her and whose head he could see above the back of the settee in the window.
“It had bothered him so much, however, that he stopped work and went out for a walk. He remained for supper and did not return until dark. Not seeing a light in this window he presumed that the inmates had retired for the night. But early this morning he discovered them in exactly the same position, the position in which they were found later by Mr. Barhart. Rushing over to the Claridge, he was stopped by the janitor, who laughed at him, called him crazy and refused to allow him to wake up the manager. Not long after this the janitor disappeared. Mr. Grover came to me at six-thirty, told me the story and requested that I accompany him to his room to see for myself. When we arrived we found that the situation had already been discovered, so we made our way to the scene as quickly as possible.
“At first my suspicions were aroused at the reluctance with which the house doctor and Mr. Barhart accepted even the remotest suggestion that a crime had been committed. I have since, however, come to the conclusion that it was but a natural instinct on the part of parties interested in the business end of the establishment to avoid encroachment upon its good name.”
There was a slight bow of acknowledgment from Barhart.
“It surprised me a great deal to be informed that there were absolutely no indications of a death other than natural. So I examined the bodies myself, and found what it would be only too easy to overlook, that which I had every reason to suspect was the mark of a hypodermic needle. There was one on the arm of the woman and one on the leg of the man.
“I was therefore doubly surprised and disconcerted when the coroner informed me that there were absolutely no traces of drug or poison. Things had come to my notice which left no doubt whatsoever in my own mind that the whole thing was a very clever conspiracy or plot, but the whole framework of my theory would fall away if Mr. and Mrs. Brentore had died a natural death.
“It all depended upon one fact. When I rushed through to the bedroom a while ago it was to verify this. The bodies were gone. I called up Jordan and asked him to look for the needle marks and tell me if they were situated each of them over a large vein. His answer was ‘Yes.’