The Affair Next Door (11 page)

"Do you remember those words?"

"They were swear words, sir; I am sorry to say it, but he certainly
cursed her and his own folly. Yet I always thought he loved her."

"Did you see her after she passed your door?"

"Yes, sir, on the walk outside."

"Was she then on the way to the train?"

"Yes, sir."

"Carrying the bag of which you have spoken?"

"Yes, sir; another proof of the state of feeling between them, for he
was very considerate in his treatment of ladies, and I never saw him do
anything ungallant before."

"You say you watched her as she went down the walk?"

"Yes, sir; it is human nature, sir; I have no other excuse to offer."

It was an apology I myself might have made. I conceived a liking for
this homely matter-of-fact woman.

"Did you note her dress?"

"Yes, sir; that is human nature also, or, rather, woman's nature."

"Particularly, madam; so that you can describe it to the jury before
you?"

"I think so."

"Will you, then, be good enough to tell us what sort of a dress Mrs. Van
Burnam wore when she left your house for the city?"

"It was a black and white plaid silk, very rich—"

Why, what did this mean? We had all expected a very different
description.

"It was made fashionably, and the sleeves—well, it is impossible to
describe the sleeves. She wore no wrap, which seemed foolish to me, for
we have very sudden changes sometimes in September."

"A plaid dress! And did you notice her hat?"

"O, I have seen the hat often. It was of every conceivable color. It
would have been called bad taste at one time, but now-a-days—"

The pause was significant. More than one man in the room chuckled, but
the women kept a discreet silence.

"Would you know that hat if you saw it?"

"I should think I would!"

The emphasis was that of a countrywoman, and amused some people
notwithstanding the melodious tone in which it was uttered. But it did
not amuse me; my thoughts had flown to the hat which Mr. Gryce had found
in the third room of Mr. Van Burnam's house, and which was of every
color of the rainbow.

The Coroner asked two other questions, one in regard to the gloves worn
by Mrs. Van Burnam, and the other in regard to her shoes. To the first,
Miss Ferguson replied that she did not notice her gloves, and to the
other, that Mrs. Van Burnam was very fashionable, and as pointed shoes
were the fashion, in cities at least, she probably wore pointed shoes.

The discovery that Mrs. Van Burnam had been differently dressed on that
day from the young woman found dead in the Van Burnam parlors, had acted
as a shock upon most of the spectators. They were just beginning to
recover from it when Miss Ferguson sat down. The Coroner was the only
one who had not seemed at a loss. Why, we were soon destined to know.

A lady well known in New York society was the next person summoned. She
was a friend of the Van Burnam family, and had known Howard from
childhood. She had not liked his marriage; indeed, she rather
participated in the family feeling against it, but when young Mrs. Van
Burnam came to her house on the preceding Monday, and begged the
privilege of remaining with her for one night, she had not had the heart
to refuse her. Mrs. Van Burnam had therefore slept in her house on
Monday night.

Questioned in regard to that lady's appearance and manner, she answered
that her guest was unnaturally cheerful, laughing much and showing a
great vivacity; that she gave no reason for her good spirits, nor did
she mention her own affairs in any way,—rather took pains not to do so.

"How long did she stay?"

"Till the next morning."

"And how was she dressed?"

"Just as Miss Ferguson has described."

"Did she bring her hand-bag to your house?"

"Yes, and left it there. We found it in her room after she was gone."

"Indeed! And how do you account for that?"

"She was preoccupied. I saw it in her cheerfulness, which was forced and
not always well timed."

"And where is that bag now?"

"Mr. Van Burnam has it. We kept it for a day and as she did not call for
it, sent it down to the office on Wednesday morning."

"Before you had heard of the murder?"

"O yes, before I had heard anything about the murder."

"As she was your guest, you probably accompanied her to the door?"

"I did, sir."

"Did you notice her hands? Can you say what was the color of her
gloves?"

"I do not think she wore any gloves on leaving; it was very warm, and
she held them in her hand. I remembered this, for I noticed the sparkle
of her rings as she turned to say good-bye."

"Ah, you saw her rings!"

"Distinctly."

"So that when she left you she was dressed in a black and white plaid
silk, had a large hat covered with flowers on her head, and wore rings?"

"Yes, sir."

And with these words ringing in the ears of the jury, the witness sat
down.

What was coming? Something important, or the Coroner would not look so
satisfied, or the faces of the officials about him so expectant. I
waited with great but subdued eagerness for the testimony of the next
witness, who was a young man by the name of Callahan.

I don't like young men in general. They are either over-suave and
polite, as if they condescended to remember that you are elderly and
that it is their duty to make you forget it, or else they are pert and
shallow and disgust you with their egotism. But this young man looked
sensible and business-like, and I took to him at once, though what
connection he could have with this affair I could not imagine.

His first words, however, settled all questions as to his personality:
He was the order clerk at Altman's.

As he acknowledged this, I seemed to have some faint premonition of what
was coming. Perhaps I had not been without some vague idea of the truth
ever since I had put my mind to work on this matter; perhaps my wits
only received their real spur then; but certainly I knew what he was
going to say as soon as he opened his lips, which gave me quite a good
opinion of myself, whether rightfully or not, I leave you to judge.

His evidence was short, but very much to the point. On the seventeenth
of September, as could be verified by the books, the firm had received
an order for a woman's complete outfit, to be sent, C.O.D., to Mrs.
James Pope at the Hotel D—, on Broadway. Sizes and measures and some
particulars were stated, and as the order bore the words
In haste
underlined upon it, several clerks had assisted him in filling this
order, which when filled had been sent by special messenger to the place
designated.

Had he this order with him?

He had.

And could he identify the articles sent to fill it?

He could.

At which the Coroner motioned to an officer and a pile of clothing was
brought forward from some mysterious corner and laid before the witness.

Immediately expectation rose to a high pitch, for every one recognized,
or thought he did, the apparel which had been taken from the victim.

The young man, who was of the alert, nervous type, took up the articles
one by one and examined them closely.

As he did so, the whole assembled crowd surged forward and
lightning-like glances from a hundred eyes followed his every movement
and expression.

"Are they the same?" inquired the Coroner.

The witness did not hesitate. With one quick glance at the blue serge
dress, black cape, and battered hat, he answered in a firm tone:

"They are."

And a clue was given at last to the dreadful mystery absorbing us.

The deep-drawn sigh which swept through the room testified to the
universal satisfaction; then our attention became fixed again, for the
Coroner, pointing to the undergarments accompanying the articles already
mentioned, demanded if they had been included in the order.

There was as little hesitation in the reply given to this question as to
the former. He recognized each piece as having come from his
establishment. "You will note," said he, "that they have never been
washed, and that the pencil marks are still on them."

"Very good," observed the Coroner, "and you will note that one article
there is torn down the back. Was it in that condition when sent?"

"It was not, sir."

"All were in perfect order?"

"Most assuredly, sir."

"Very good, again. The jury will take cognizance of this fact, which may
be useful to them in their future conclusions. And now, Mr. Callahan, do
you notice anything lacking here from the list of articles forwarded by
you?"

"No, sir."

"Yet there is one very necessary adjunct to a woman's outfit which is
not to be found here."

"Yes, sir, the shoes; but I am not surprised at that. We sent shoes, but
they were not satisfactory, and they were returned."

"Ah, I see. Officer, show the witness the shoes that were taken from the
deceased."

This was done, and when Mr. Callahan had examined them, the Coroner
inquired if they came from his store. He replied no.

Whereupon they were held up to the jury, and attention called to the
fact that, while rather new than old, they gave signs of having been
worn more than once; which was not true of anything else taken from the
victim.

This matter settled, the Coroner proceeded with his questions.

"Who carried the articles ordered, to the address given?"

"A man in our employ, named Clapp."

"Did he bring back the amount of the bill?"

"Yes, sir; less the five dollars charged for the shoes."

"What was the amount, may I ask?"

"Here is our cash-book, sir. The amount received from Mrs. James Pope,
Hotel D—, on the seventeenth of September, is, as you see,
seventy-five dollars and fifty-eight cents."

"Let the jury see the book; also the order."

They were both handed to the jury, and if ever I wished myself in any
one's shoes, save my own very substantial ones, it was at that moment. I
did so want a peep at that order.

It seemed to interest the jury also, for their heads drew together very
eagerly over it, and some whispers and a few knowing looks passed
between them. Finally one of them spoke:

"It is written in a very odd hand. Do you call this a woman's writing or
a man's?"

"I have no opinion to give on the subject," rejoined the witness. "It is
intelligible writing, and that is all that comes within my province."

The twelve men shifted on their seats and surveyed the Coroner eagerly.
Why did he not proceed? Evidently he was not quick enough to suit them.

"Have you any further questions for this witness?" asked that gentleman
after a short delay.

Their nervousness increased, but no one ventured to follow the Coroner's
suggestion. A poor lot, I call them, a very poor lot! I would have found
plenty of questions to put to him.

I expected to see the man Clapp called next, but I was disappointed in
this. The name uttered was Henshaw, and the person who rose in answer to
it was a tall, burly man with a shock of curly black hair. He was the
clerk of the Hotel D—, and we all forgot Clapp in our eagerness to
hear what this man had to say.

His testimony amounted to this:

That a person by the name of Pope was registered on his books. That she
came to his house on the seventeenth of September, some time near noon.
That she was not alone; that a person she called her husband accompanied
her, and that they had been given a room, at her request, on the second
floor overlooking Broadway.

"Did you see the husband? Was it his handwriting we see in your
register?"

"No, sir. He came into the office, but he did not approach the desk. It
was she who registered for them both, and who did all the business in
fact. I thought it queer, but took it for granted he was ill, for he
held his head very much down, and acted as if he felt disturbed or
anxious."

"Did you notice him closely? Would you be able to identify him on
sight?"

"No, sir, I should not. He looked like a hundred other men I see every
day: medium in height and build, with brown hair and brown moustache.
Not noticeable in any way, sir, except for his hang-dog air and evident
desire not to be noticed."

"But you saw him later?"

"No, sir. After he went to his room he stayed there, and no one saw him.
I did not even see him when he left the house. His wife paid the bill
and he did not come into the office."

"But you saw her well; you would know her again?"

"Perhaps, sir; but I doubt it. She wore a thick veil when she came in,
and though I might remember her voice, I have no recollection of her
features for I did not see them."

"You can give a description of her dress, though; surely you must have
looked long enough at a woman who wrote her own and her husband's name
in your register, for you to remember her clothes."

"Yes, for they were very simple. She had on what is called a gossamer,
which covered her from neck to toe, and on her head a hat wrapped all
about with a blue veil."

"So that she might have worn any dress under that gossamer?"

"Yes, sir."

"And any hat under that veil?"

"Any one that was large enough, sir."

"
Very
good. Now, did you see her hands?"

"Not to remember them."

"Did she have gloves on?"

"I cannot say. I did not stand and watch her, sir."

"That is a pity. But you say you heard her voice."

"Yes, sir."

"Was it a lady's voice? Was her tone refined and her language good?"

"They were, sir."

"When did they leave? How long did they remain in your house?"

"They left in the evening; after tea, I should say."