“I can’t quite take that seriously, Mr. Hopkins, but I’ll be glad to look into the case and perhaps I can give justice a boost in the right direction. You’ve no further hints to give me?”
“No, the hints all point one way, and you’ll discover that for yourself soon enough.” They walked together up the short path that led to the house of the late Richard Hemmingway.
Clearbrook was a small settlement of well-to-do society people, who wished to live near but not in New York. The houses were rather pretentious, with well-kept grounds, and picturesque flower-beds, but Bert Bayliss paid little attention to the landscape as he hurried to the Hemmingway mansion. Once in the drawing-room, Bayliss was presented by Mr. Hopkins to his wife and daughter, also to Miss Sheldon and Mr. Collins.
It was surely a tribute to the young man that all these people, who were fully prepared to treat the detective with a supercilious hauteur, were won at once by his affable and easy demeanor and involuntarily greeted him as a man of their own class and standing.
Mrs. Estey, the housekeeper, was also in the room, and at the moment of Bayliss’ arrival, Coroner Spearman was about to begin his preliminary queries of investigation. Quite content to gain his knowledge of the case in this way, Bayliss settled himself to listen.
“Harris,” he said silently to his faithful friend, “these are all refined and sensitive people, but, excepting Mr. Hopkins, not one shows a deep or abiding grief at the death of this gentleman. Therefore I deduce that with most of them the loss is fully covered by inheritance.”
“Marvelous, my dear Bayliss, marvelous!” replied Harris correctly.
At the command of the coroner, Clapham, the butler, was summoned to give his account of the discovery of the body.
“I came down-stairs at twenty to six, sir,” said the pompous but deferential Englishman, “and it would be about six when I reached the master’s library. The door was closed, and when I opened it I was surprised to find one of the lamps still burning, the one by the desk, sir. By its light I could see the master still sitting in his chair. At first I thought he had come down-stairs early, to do some work; then I thought he had been working there all night; and then I thought maybe something was wrong. These thoughts all flew through my mind in quick succession, sir, and, even as I thought them, I was raising the blinds. The daylight poured in, and I saw at once my master was dead, strangled, sir.”
“How did you know he was strangled?” asked the coroner.