PAGE 6
The Unofficial Spy
by
“Then I can leave that part of it to you, McBride?” asked Kennedy thoughtfully as if laying out a programme of action in his mind. “You will set the hotel detectives on the trail as well as the police of the city, and of other cities, will make the inquiries at the steamships and railroads, and all that sort of thing? Try to find some trace of the two men whom you saw in the caf=82 at the same time. But for the present I should say spare no effort to locate that girl.”
“Trust it to me,” agreed McBride confidently. A heavy tap sounded at the door and McBride opened it. It was the coroner.
I shall not go into the lengthy investigation which the coroner conducted, questioning one servant and employee after another without eliciting any more real information than we had already obtained so concisely from the house man. The coroner was, of course, angry at the removal of the body from the closet to the bed because he wanted to view it in the position in which it had been found, but as that had been done by the servants before McBride could stop them, there was nothing to do about it but accept the facts.
“A very peculiar case,” remarked the coroner at the conclusion of his examination, with the air of a man who could shed much light on it from his wide experience if he chose. “There is just one point that we shall have to clear up, however. What was the cause of the death of the deceased? There is no gas in the room. It couldn’t have been illuminating gas, then. No, it must have been a poison of some kind. Then as to the motive,” he added, trying to look confident but really shooting a tentative remark at Craig and the house detective, who said nothing. “It looks a good deal like that other suicide – at least a suicide which some one has endeavoured to conceal,” he added, hastily recollecting the manner in which the body had been found and his criticisms of the removal from the closet.
“Didn’t I tell you?” rejoined McBride dolefully after we had left the coroner downstairs a few minutes later. “I knew he would think the hotel was hiding something from him.”
“We can’t help what he thinks – yet,” remarked Craig. “All we can do is to run down the clues which we have. I will leave the maid to be found by your organisation, McBride. Let me see, the theatres and roof gardens must be letting out by this time. I will see if I can get any information from Miss Lovelace. Find her address, Walter, and call a cab.”
The Southern heiress, who had attracted more attention by her beauty than by her fortune which was only moderate as American fortunes go nowadays, lived in an apartment facing the park, with her mother, a woman whose social ambitions it was commonly known had no bounds and were often sadly imposed upon.
Fortunately we arrived at the apartment not very many minutes after the mother and daughter, and although it was late, Kennedy sent up his card with an urgent message to see them. They received us in a large drawing-room and were plainly annoyed by our visit, though that of course was susceptible of a natural interpretation.
“What is it that you wished to see me about?” began Mrs. Lovelace in a tone which was intended to close the interview almost before it was begun. Kennedy had not wished to see her about anything, but of course he did not even hint as much in his reply which was made to her but directed at Miss Lovelace.
“Could you tell me anything about a Madame de Nevers who was staying at the Vanderveer?” asked Craig, turning quickly to the daughter so as to catch the full effect of his question, and then waiting as if expecting the answer from her.