The Meredith Mystery

by Natalie Sumner Lincoln

The opening and closing of doors and the murmur of distant voices came fitfully to David Curtis as he sat near the window of his bedroom, his head propped against his hand and his sightless eyes turned toward the view over the hills to the National Capital. He had sat in that position for fully an hour trying to reduce his chaotic thoughts to order. Out of the turmoil one idea remained uppermost—John Meredith had undoubtedly been murdered. Who had committed so dastardly a crime? Would the answer be forthcoming at the inquest?

Contrary to custom, Coroner Penfield had decided to hold the inquest at Ten Acres instead of having it meet in the District of Columbia Morgue, and he had specified three o’clock that afternoon—it must be close to the hour. Curtis touched his repeater—a quarter past three. The inquest must have started. Curtis reached for his cane and then laid it down.

Coroner Penfield had said that he would be sent for when his presence was required.

Curtis had eaten both his breakfast and luncheon in solitary grandeur in the small morning room upstairs, waited on by Fernando who had been told by Mrs. Meredith to act as his valet. During the morning he had requested an interview with Anne, but a message had come from Mrs. Meredith stating that the girl was completely unstrung by the shocking death of her uncle and could see no one.

That the entire household was thrown out of its usually well-ordered existence was evidenced by the confusion among the servants. It had required all Mrs. Meredith’s combative personality to check the incipient panic and keep them at their work. The servants represented a number of nationalities. Jules, the chef, and his sister, Susanne, Mrs. Meredith’s maid, had come from France before the outbreak of the World War; Gretchen, the chambermaid, was a new acquisition, having arrived from Holland only the previous fall; Fernando and his twin brother, Damason, had been in John Meredith’s employ from the time he brought them with him from the Philippine Islands eight years before. But in point of service Herman claimed seniority, having served first as office boy and then been taken into Meredith’s bachelor household as valet and later as butler.

Curtis had judged somewhat of the excitement prevailing below stairs by Fernando’s unusual talkativeness, except on one point—he became totally uncommunicative when the subject of string was broached.

“You tell me you say last night, ‘Fernando, hang string on my door so I find bedroom,’” he had repeated. “But please, Mister Doctor, you no tell me that,” with polite insistence. “Always I do what you say. I good boy.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” a touch of impatience had crept into Curtis’ quiet voice. “How was it that a string was tied to the knob of Mr. Meredith’s bedroom door and thereby led me to believe that it was my bedroom?”

“I dunno,” Fernando clipped his words with such vigor that his lips made a hissing sound. “Please, Mister Doctor, I dunno,” and with that Curtis had, perforce, to be satisfied.

Curtis stirred uneasily in his chair. He would have given much for an interview with Anne before the inquest. As it was he was going further into the affair blindfolded. His lips curled in a bitter smile—a blind man blindfolded! Did Anne wish to go on with the marriage ceremony arranged for her by her uncle? Was he to consider himself engaged to her? He had been given no key to the situation—no inkling even whether he was expected to remain as a guest at Ten Acres, or to leave immediately after the inquest.