The Grubeys were greatly excited by this circumstance and it excited Herrick, too. The coroner had himself examined Ingham's apartment and then the conscientious creature had climbed the stairs to Herrick's. He had even waited in the hope that his witness might return. All this was proudly poured forth while Herrick was also asked to examine a rival public interest—a most peculiar prize which the corner saloon-keeper's son had been awarded at a private school; he had loaned it to Johnnie Grubey for twenty-four hours if Johnnie would let him see the revolver with which Herrick would have shot the murderer last night if the murderer had been there! It was a sort of return in kind; for the school prize was also a revolver.
It was a very little one and Johnnie insisted that it was solid gold. On the handle was a monogram of three capital A's in small bright stones, white, green and red—near them a straggling C had been wantonly scratched. Johnnie averred that the A's stood for Algebra, Astronomy and Art-Drawing and even had the combination of studies for one prize been less remarkable Herrick would have suspected that the boy was lying. What he suspected he hardly knew; still less when he discovered that this unwontedly sympathetic prize was, after all, a fake. The little golden pistol was not a pistol, but a curiously pointless trinket—the cylinder was nothing but a sculptured suggestion; the toy was made all in one piece!—"D'yeh ever see the like?" Mrs. Grubey asked him. And he never had. It was quainter than Mr. Gumama's kisses.
But Herrick's head was full of other things. As he opened his door he grinned to think of that aristocratic scion waiting in his humble bedroom. Well, it had been a great day! Even if he had lost heart for that taxi-ride up the river with Evadne! And then from long habit, he glanced at Evadne's empty place.
The picture had left an unfaded spot on the wall-paper. "I suppose I might add 'And on my heart!'" said Herrick. He lifted the concealing newspaper. Then he went out and made inquiries. No one but Ten Euyck and Mrs. Grubey had been in the room nor had Mrs. Grubey noticed that the picture had been moved. Now Herrick was certain he had left the likeness under the newspaper, lying face up. It was still under the newspaper, but face down. He said to himself, with a shrug of annoyance, that the coroner had made good use of his time.
CHAPTER VIII
MRS. WILLING TELLS WHAT SHE KNOWS
The morning of the inquest was cloudy, with a wet wind. Herrick was nervous, and he could not be sure whether this nervousness sprang from the ardor of championship or accusation. But one thing was clear. Christina Hope had slain Evadne and closed his mouth to Sal; but, at last, he was to see her, face to face.
She was there when he arrived, sitting in a corner with her mother. Herrick recognized her at once, but with a horrid pang of disappointment. Was this his Diana of the Winds? Or yet his Destroying Angel? This was only a tall quiet girl in a gray gown. To be more exact it was a gray ratine suit, with a broad white collar, and her small gray hat seemed to fold itself close in to the shape of her little head; the low coil of her hair was very smooth. Herrick observed with something oddly akin to satisfaction that he had been right about her coloring—there were the fair skin, the brown hair, the eyes cool as gray water. Under these to-day there were dark shadows and her face was shockingly pale.
The first witness called was a Doctor Andrews. After the preliminary questions as to name, age, and so forth, he was asked, "You reside in the Van Dam Apartments?"