"I'm glad the matter is intelligible to you, Captain; I confess—"
"Never mind now; get ahead with your yarn.... Monday night—the night of the inquest—after he had gotten home—on Tuesday they called in Doctor Bane—Sam missed that messenger. I see. Good! Good! What next?"
"Well, this black man brought the General a letter. Sally was sweeping the front gallery and she saw all that happened. When the man called, General Westbrook went out on the gallery through one of the big windows; he seemed much surprised when the man handed him the envelope, and asked, 'Who is this from?' But the man shook his head and smiled, and went away immediately without a word. The General, after watching him out of sight, went back into the library, holding the letter away from him by one corner, as if he were half afraid of it. Sally says she knew the messenger was a 'conjure man' the moment she laid eyes on him, and her suspicions seem to have been confirmed almost at once. It wasn't more than a minute after General Westbrook returned to the library that Sally heard him call out as if he were in pain. She peeped in, and what she saw seems to have scared her pretty bad. The General was sitting at his desk with the 'conjure paper' in his hand; his face was the color of ashes, his jaw open, his eyes staring; and he didn't pay the least bit of attention to Sally. She watched him a moment, dropped her broom, and went flying to notify Mrs. Westbrook. That's all, sir."
"Day is breaking," said the Captain, after a moment, "and I want you to get an hour or two of sleep before reporting to me for further duty. I'll have my hands full to-day. Clancy can report off for you, and I'll fix it with the Chief. Wear plain clothes."
He left the window and advanced into the room. "Clancy," he continued, "you may go. Have the Sergeant detail a man for special duty here to-day, and notify him that I am using McCaleb."
There are times when a man's grief is, to a limited extent, its own antidote. And it was so with Doctor Westbrook as he sat brooding; for when Mr. Converse dismissed the two policemen he noted that the physician was still sitting precisely in the attitude assumed by him when he had first dropped into the Morris chair. He was patently oblivious to what was going on about him; and observing this also, Mr. Converse went in search of Merkel.
He found the Coroner in the hall, conversing with the undertaker's man, and drew him aside.
"Mr. Merkel," began the Captain, bluntly, "the moment has arrived when you must let me run things alone."
That Merkel's dignity was ruffled and his official pride affronted was quite plain; nevertheless, after a wordy exposition of the irregularity of the proceeding, the "responsibilities of his office," and the duties incumbent upon him, he departed. Secretly, he cherished the idea of some time overwhelming John Converse with a brilliant tour de force; but the opportunity had never been perceptible to his obtuseness, and the Captain, of course, knew nothing of the other's ambition. If he had, perhaps he would have smiled.
Mr. Converse returned to the library with a distinct feeling of satisfaction. Apparently the Doctor had not stirred. After a brief contemplation of the dejected figure, the detective advanced and laid his hand upon one bowed shoulder.