The coroner was true to his word and kept the inquest a purely formal and perfunctory affair. The verdict was brought in: “Death due to a wound caused by an arrow discharged by some person or persons unknown.”
The rest of Sunday afternoon and Sunday evening, Landis and Bernard moved unobtrusively and casually about the house. Though subdued by tragedy and more by uneasiness, life in the household pursued a most commonplace course and they learned nothing whatever of interest.
At breakfast on Monday morning, Landis waited until Miss Mount, the two girls and all four guests had come down, then inquired whether it was necessary for any of them to go into New York. Graham volunteered to stay, provided Brent did not need him. Russell and Allen admitted that no pressing business interests demanded their departure. Miss Mount and the two girls had nothing to say. In fact, no one wanted to seem eager to get away from the scene of the crime.
After breakfast the two detectives drove into New York. The funeral had been arranged for the afternoon, to take place from the local undertaking parlor. There was nothing to be gained by attending it and much to be done elsewhere.
On the way in they discussed the case, admitting each to the other that he had no definite theory to pursue, no real working hypothesis. Opportunity and known motive alone considered, the choice seemed to lie between Stimson, Russell and Allen. But to each of these three theories there were psychological factors that made it highly unsatisfactory. In spite of his hatred and the bit of feather, Stimson had been too frank and too calm for a murderer. Allen had been much too careless about admitting his motive. Russell had made no attempt to deny his motive, either. Neither Stimson nor Russell had tripped once. Allen had lied but with an obvious and apparently innocent motive. Landis and Bernard had learned a lot and got—nowhere.
In New York, Landis drove Bernard to the down-town district where Brent had his offices, drove up-town again, parked his car in the vicinity of the Pennsylvania Station and took the first available train for Great Neck, where inquiry at the post office would give him Hiram Cuddy’s address.
They met again at six in a chop-house near Times Square and each admitted that he had had a busy day. Landis was cheerful. Bernard had a grim little smile about his mouth.
“You spill your news first,” said Landis in an undertone, when they had both ordered enormous mutton chops.
Bernard chuckled, though he looked tired.
“It doesn’t sound much, after the places I’ve been and the visits I’ve paid! In the first place, I’ve seen the will. It leaves Miss Mount a hundred thousand, Brent fifty thousand, Graham ten thousand and Stimson five thousand. The other servants get two thousand apiece. There’s a half-million life trust for his brother, Joel.”