“Wing came to the door, as before. He did not bring a lamp, but left the doors open behind him. Seeing no one, he stepped out on to the door-stone, when the man in hiding pressed the pistol against his temple and drew the trigger at the same instant. Wing fell in a heap on the step and threshold—his death was instantaneous.”
McManus had listened to these last words as if fascinated by the terrible details so briefly stated. When Trafford paused on the last word, he seemed to catch his breath with the movement of one who in the last minute had forgotten everything but the picture before him.
“If your tale is true,” he said, breathing deeply, “your description of the man is the man himself—a man of quick movements, strong purpose, assured position, and absolute control of nerves. The man must have been iron—at least while he was doing the job.”
“And he needed to be adamant to complete it. There was nothing to him in Wing’s death, as a mere death. It saved him from nothing, though it might save others. It was positive, not negative, gain he was after. Perhaps, on the whole, he would rather Wing had lived. He felt it simply a necessity, and an unpleasant one at that, that he should die. But he was after something, and Wing’s death was only the preliminary to securing it. Having waited to make certain the shot had aroused no one, he stepped over the dead body and entered the library. He closed the door behind him, went to the safe, which was still open, and took from the upper left-hand pigeon hole a package of papers. Then he closed the safe and turned the knob, probably mechanically, showing that he was a man accustomed to deal with keyless safes. He went to the desk and took from it the letter which Wing had just sealed and directed——”
“To whom?” interrupted McManus.
“To the Governor, asking for an appointment for the following Thursday, the thirteenth.”
McManus nodded and Trafford went on:
“Then he put out the light, raised the shade of one window to make sure the coast was clear, and returned the way he had come. In doing so, he closed the library door behind him and drew the outer door to until it was stopped by the body of the dead man. Thus, you see, with all his shrewdness, he made four mistakes; he closed and locked the safe; he put out the light; he closed the library door, and he attempted to close the outer door.”
“How mistakes?” asked McManus.
“If he had left the safe open, it would have been supposed mere robbery was the purpose. If he had left the lamp burning, and the library and outer doors open, there would have been nothing to show that some one had visited the room after the murder.”