CHAPTER XIII
THE WEIGHT OF EVIDENCE
The next witness called was Mrs. Morse, who told briefly how she had been placed in charge of the upper part of the Langmore mansion shortly after the tragedy, and how she had been watching Margaret. She said the girl had had only a few visitors, mentioning Raymond Case and a stranger from New York.
"Who was the stranger?" asked Coroner Busby.
"A Mr. Adams. He's either a lawyer or a detective."
"Oh!"
"I brought Mr. Adams to see Miss Langmore," put in Raymond. "Wasn't that all right?"
"Certainly—certainly," answered the coroner hastily.
"I have kept the best watch on Miss Langmore that I could," went on the woman. "You told me to do it."
"Has Miss Langmore had anything to say about her father?"
"She seems to be very sorry that he is dead."
"What did she say about Mrs. Langmore?"
"She does not seem to care much about her stepmother."
"Have you discovered anything unusual, Mrs. Morse, that had to do with this tragedy?"
"Well, I don't know. I have looked around a bit, and among other things I found this. It was in Miss Langmore's dressing case."
As she spoke the woman held up a small bottle. It was marked chloroform and was empty.
"Anything else?"
"With the empty bottle I found the half of a big silk handkerchief. It was wrapped around the bottle and had Miss Langmore's monogram in the corner. I went on hunting around the house and I found the other half of the handkerchief in a dark corner of the upper hallway, not far from where Mrs. Langmore's body was found."
At this announcement there was a buzz of excitement. All present looked at the witness and then at Margaret. The girl had thrown aside her veil once more, and was standing up, with a face as pale as death itself.
"I—I—may I speak?" she faltered.
"Yes."
"I bought that chloroform a month ago and used it to put a sick canary and a sick parrot out of their misery. Mary Billings saw me chloroform the parrot."
"When did you do the chloroforming?"
"About a week ago, on the parrot. The canary I chloroformed when I obtained the drug."
"Sure, and that's roight, sur," broke in the servant girl.
"Then you know all about using chloroform?" remarked the coroner dryly.
"The druggist told me."
"Did it take all you had for the birds?"
"No."
"What did you do with what remained?"
"I threw it away, for I had no further use for it."
"Hum." The coroner turned to Mary Billings. "Did you see her throw the chloroform away?"
"N—no," stammered the servant girl. "But if she says she did, she did," she added stoutly.
"Now, Mrs. Morse, did you find anything else of value?"
"I did not, but Mrs. Gaspard, who was in charge downstairs, did."
"Very well, you may step down. Mrs. Gaspard!" And the other woman came forward to face the coroner and his jury, and was sworn.
"Mrs. Morse says you found something of importance. What was it?"
"It was this, Mr. Busby," and the woman held out a sheet of note paper.
"I came across it on the stairs leading to Miss Langmore's room. Shall
I read it?" And as the coroner nodded, the woman read as follows:
"Since you refuse to open your room door to me, let me give you fair warning. You must either obey your mother that now is, and me, or leave this house. I have had enough of your willfulness and I shall not put up with it any longer."
As the woman finished reading she handed the paper to the coroner.
"Ahem! Mrs. Gaspard, do you know who wrote this note?" asked the latter.
"The handwriting is exactly like Mr. Langmore's. I have compared the two, and so have Mrs. Morse and Mr. Pickerell, the schoolmaster."
Again all eyes were bent upon Margaret. She had again arisen and was swaying from side to side.
"My father—never—never sent me—never wrote such a note—" she gasped, and then sank back and would have fallen had not Raymond supported her.
"A glass of water, quick!" cried the young man, and it was handed to him, and also a bottle of smelling salts. In a moment more Margaret revived.
"Take me away," she moaned.
"I am sorry, but that cannot be allowed," replied the coroner. "You will have to remain until this session is over."
"It's an outrage!" exclaimed Raymond, his eyes flashing. "You are all against her, and you are going to prove her guilty if you possibly can. The whole proceedings is a farce."
"Silence, young man, or I'll have you removed by an officer. You have interrupted the proceedings several times. I do not know what interest you have—"
"I am not ashamed to tell you of my interest, sir. I am engaged to this young lady. I know she is innocent. It is preposterous to imagine that she would kill her own father. They loved each other too much."
"Yes, but this note—" piped in Mrs. Gaspard. She was a strong believer in Margaret's guilt.
"I know nothing about that. It may be a forgery. I know Miss Langmore is innocent."
"To merely say a thing does not prove it," came from the coroner. "We want facts, nothing else—and we are bound to have 'em." He began to warm up also. "I'm here to do my duty, regardless of you or anybody else. I ain't going to shield anybody, rich or poor, high or low, known or unknown! Now, you sit down, and let the inquest proceed." And Raymond sat down, but with a great and growing bitterness filling his heart. He looked at Margaret and saw that she was trembling from head to foot.
There was an awkward pause.
"Mrs. Gaspard, did Mr. Pickerell say he thought Mr. Langmore had written this note?" questioned the coroner.
"He said the two handwritings were exactly alike. Here is a letter written and signed by Mr. Langmore. You can compare the two, if you wish."
The letter was passed over and not only the coroner, but also his jury, looked at both documents carefully.
"Pretty much the same thing," whispered one man.
"Exactly the same," added another, and the rest nodded.
The coroner looked around the courtroom and then at the jury.
"Have any of you any questions to ask?" he queried of the men. "If not we'll take a brief recess until Doctor Bardon returns."
One after another the jurors shook their heads. Whatever the coroner did was sufficient for them. Coroner Busby had picked men he knew would agree with him.
The recess had lasted but a few minutes, when Doctor Bardon reappeared.
His face wore a knowing look that was almost triumphant.
"You will please take the stand again, doctor," was the request. "I wish to ask you if a person could be smothered by chloroform."
"Certainly, under certain conditions."
"Do you think it possible that Mr. and Mrs. Langmore could have been smothered in that way?"
"Possibly, yes, although I did not see any traces."
"Would there have been traces?"
"Yes and no—it would depend on circumstances."
"Hum. Now about the diamond ring belonging to Miss Langmore, which I gave you a short while ago to examine? Have you—ahem—examined it?"
"I have, and so has Doctor Soper. We used a magnifying glass and made several tests."
"Did you find anything unusual?"
"We did. In the first place two of the prongs which hold the diamond in place are bent out and up in such a fashion that each forms a sharp point. We next looked under the stone and found there a substance which both of us are convinced is a bit of dried-up blood."
"You are sure it is blood?"
"Yes. I can illustrate it scientifically, if you desire."
"It will not be necessary just now. When you say blood do you mean human blood?"
At this the young physician shrugged his shoulders.
"I am not prepared to go as far as that. We should have to make another test. The amount was so very small."
"Might be blood from a mosquito," muttered Raymond. "There are enough around here."
"You may think as you please," said the young doctor. "I am only stating the facts."
"Have you anything else to say, doctor?" came from the coroner.
"Nothing more. Here is the ring. We have kept what we found under the stone."
"Very well. Miss Langmore, you may have the ring back." It was passed out and Raymond took it and slipped it back on Margaret's hand, which was cold and nerveless. The girl was sitting as motionless as a marble statue.
There was another pause and then, one after another, several minor witnesses were brought up and examined. At four o'clock the coroner began to sum up the evidence, to which the jury listened with close attention. Then the jurors filed out into a side room, the door to which was tightly closed.
"Is—is it over?" faltered Margaret. "Wha—what will they do next?"
"We must wait for the finding of the jury, Margaret."
"How long will that take?"
"I don't know."
"Mr. Adams did not show himself. I thought he would help us in some way."
"He must have a good reason for staying away."
"What do you think the jury will do?"
At this direct question, the young man gave an inward groan. "I don't know," he answered in an unnatural voice. "We must hope for the best."
In less than an hour it was announced that the jury had arrived at a verdict. Those who had left the courtroom returned and the jurymen filed in. The excitement was subdued, but plainly at a white heat. The coroner took his place at the desk.
"Gentlemen of the jury, have you agreed upon a verdict?" was the question put.
"We have," was the unanimous answer.
"Who will speak for you?"
"Mr. Blackwell, our foreman."
"Very well. Ahem! Mr. Blackwell, what is the verdict?"
Mr. Blackwell, a well-known citizen of the town, stood up. The courtroom became intensely silent.
"We find that Mr. and Mrs. Barry Langmore came to their deaths either by being smothered, chloroformed, poisoned, or in some similar fashion, the direct means not yet being brought to light, and we find that the evidence points to Margaret Langmore as the one who committed the murders."
Hardly was the verdict rendered than a wild cry rang out through the courtroom. Margaret staggered to her feet, put out her hands in an uncertain fashion, and then dropped senseless into Raymond's arms.