“That’s just what he was doin’, sir, that’s why I thought he didn’t rightly know what he was about.”
“You may go, Thorpe,” said Wise.
“You see,” he continued after the old man had gone, “Tracy poured boiling hot water from the afternoon teakettle over the broken cup, that all evidence of poison might be removed, if the bits of china were examined. I’ve not heard of that being done, however, but a guilty conscience would naturally fear it. That little incident shows the astuteness of his criminal mind.”
“It does!” cried Professor Hardwick. “What a depraved, a demoniacal nature must be his! Where did he come from? Who introduced him to our party?”
“I did,” said Rudolph Braye. “I had, of course, no suspicion of his real nature. I met Tracy on the train, travelling from Chicago to New York, about a year ago. He was a pleasant smoking room companion, and I’ve seen him several times since, in New York. I had no reason to think him other than what he represented himself, a clergyman, with a church in Chicago. He impressed me as a fine, congenial sort, and when Mrs. Landon asked me to suggest another member for our house party, I thought of him at once. His cloth seemed to me to be his adequate credentials and, in fact, I never gave a thought to his possible duplicity! Nor can I reconcile the facts, even yet. How do you know these things, Mr. Wise? Are you not romancing a little?”
“No, Mr. Braye, I am not even surmising. What I have stated is true, because there is no other possible deduction from the facts I have learned. I have identified the man Tracy who was here with you as the notorious Smug Johnny of Chicago. Do you need further knowledge of him to believe that he is the criminal in this case, rather than one of your own immediate circle?”
“No,” and Milly shuddered; “it is bad enough that it should have been Mr. Tracy, but far better than to suspect one of us here.”
“Furthermore,” continued Wise, “let us look into the details of the death of Vernie Reid. Who can give me the exact facts as noticed?”
“I,” said Eve Carnforth; “and, now, as I look back, I see it all in a different light! I was looking at Mr. Bruce, as everybody was, startled by the sound of crashing china, and I heard Mr. Tracy say, ‘Vernie, child! What is the matter?’ or some such words. Then he ran quickly to her side and held her up in his arms, while I ran to them and helped him to lay her on the sofa.”
“See?” said Wise; “at the moment Tracy sprang toward the girl she was unharmed, and as he put his arm round her, he scratched her arm with a sharp pointed instrument, which had been dipped in the awful poison that we have learned of. It is said to be similar to that with which the barbarians of South America tip their arrows. But the least scratch is instantly fatal, and proved so in Vernie’s case. The instrument he used, we have reason to think, was a steel pen.”