Mr. Trenton of course desired to accompany me, but I finally dissuaded him, telling him that it was better that only one of us should apply to McKelvie, especially as I had been forewarned that he was rather eccentric. To which Mr. Trenton grudgingly agreed, and I set out to interview this solver of crimes with a fluttering heart, for upon him I based all my remaining hopes.
As I sat in the cosy little sitting-room of the old house on Stuyvesant Square to which I had been conducted by a better combed and more civil Dinah with the announcement that "Mistuh McKelvie'll be down in a secun', sah," I conjured a vision of the type of man I expected to see. I evolved a cross between an oddity and a mental Sampson, a fretful, thin man, with a head too big for his body, who would speak in a querulous high-pitched voice.
The man who entered the room at that moment and came toward me with extended hand was none of these things. He was a slender, well-dressed young man, well above the medium height, with a pleasant, but rather rugged cast of countenance, whose main features were a tenacious chin and a pair of brilliant black eyes. But when he spoke my name I forgot his appearance. Never had I heard such a melodious voice. It soothed the ear with its mellow richness and remained in the mind long after it had ceased, like the echo of some clear-toned bell. And such was its power that by merely pronouncing my name he had made me believe that he alone of all the world could possibly solve the problem which was well-nigh overwhelming me.
Later I came to know him better and I should have liked him even without the added attraction of his voice, for he was a refined and cultured man, extremely clever, if eccentric, whose main idiosyncrasies seemed to be confined to a whole-souled worship of Sherlock Holmes, a decidedly autocratic manner, and a fondness for speaking satirically, even at the expense of his friends.
"Jenkins has told me that you have a problem which you wish me to look into," he said, motioning me to be seated as he settled himself in a large arm-chair. "Will you give me briefly the details of the case?"
I am afraid my story was far from brief, for I told him everything from the moment I heard the shot, through the inquest, to Dick's suicide. He listened attentively to every word without comment and when I was through he briskly assumed command.
"I have read of the crime in the papers," he said, "but I must study the coroner's personal notes of the inquest, before I come to a decision."
He rose and walked to his desk as he spoke, where he scratched off a few lines on a sheet of notepaper, which he enclosed in an envelope.
"What was the reason for young Trenton's removal from New York six months ago?" he asked abruptly, turning toward me as he sealed the envelope.
"Is it necessary to the investigation?" I inquired, loth to reveal the family skeleton.