“That is a difficult question to answer offhand, Judith,” he replied gravely. “Austin’s death was caused by a punctured wound. These wounds, Judith, are generally smaller in circumference than the weapon used, for the skin is stretched and yields to a certain extent. Therefore the wound might have been inflicted with long, slender shears.”
Judith considered his answer in silence, a silence which seemed endless to the busy surgeon. Finally, with a glance at her and another at the dial of the clock, he rose and picked up his bag.
“I must go, Judith,” he said. “Take my advice, child, and lie down for a while. If you don’t you will be added to my list of patients. Please do as I ask you.”
Few could resist McLane’s charming smile, and Judith’s “I will” was prompt. She experienced a strange reluctance to have him go, and only an exertion of her self-control prevented her from calling him back as she closed the front door on his retreating figure. In her room Judith did her best to comply with McLane’s request, but she could not lie still on the bed. Finally, unable longer to control her desire for motion, she got up and wandered into the boudoir. From there she went to her father’s den. He was not there, and Judith with a glance into his bedroom, closed the door, and, going over to his desk, she sat down before it and went carefully through his papers.
It was dusk, the early dusk of a winter afternoon when Judith again entered the library. Anna, the waitress, had not performed her usual duties of turning on the electric lights, and Judith contented herself with switching on the lamp nearest her father’s safe. Dropping on her knees before it, she propped a playing card on a stool beside her, and, placing her hand on the knob of the steel door, turned the dial. It was slow, laborious work and perspiration trickled into Judith’s eyes. She saw but dimly the Knave of Hearts—the red of the playing card alone showed up plainly. A last twist of her wrist and the heavy steel door swung backward, and Judith sank down in a crouching position to rest her cramped muscles.
She was still looking directly inside the safe when a handkerchief was drawn across her eyes and a hand detached the wire connecting her earphone and the little electric battery which she wore tucked inside her belt. Completely taken by surprise and too paralyzed to move, Judith sat motionless as the hand, having completed its mission, slid around and covered her mouth. Then, before she could scramble to her feet, hands dragged her backward until she felt herself resting against a table leg. It took but a moment to tie her to it; the next instant a handkerchief gag replaced the hand across her mouth.
For what seemed an eternity Judith sat without motion, cut off from sound, from sight—
Surely the distorted silhouettes dancing before her vision were creatures of her imagination! Or could it be the shadows of real people seen through the folds of the handkerchief?
Bound, blindfolded, gagged, deprived of her earphone, and her hearing deadened by nature, Judith’s heart was beating with suffocating rapidity. She must get aid—aid before she fainted. Instinctively she bit and worried her gag, and the handkerchief, insecurely tied, parted finally. Judith filled her lungs with air, moistened her parched lips, and tried to call for help.
The whispered cry reached only to the confines of the room. To Judith’s ears no sound penetrated, and she waited in agony. Had her shout carried beyond the library? Surely the maids, her father—some one must hear her?