A master hand : $b The story of a crimeDallas, Richard
General
A master hand : $b The story of a crime
Dallas, Richard
Detective and mystery stories; Murder -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Fiction
On entering a servant told me that Mr. Van Bult was waiting for me in
the library; so we went there and found Van Bult seated in front of the
fire with an unopened paper in his hands gazing abstractedly before him.
We greeted him and then for some moments were silent. There was so much
to say and so little that seemed adequate. We four of all others were
most allied by friendship and intimacy with poor White and by the
incidents of that night with the tragedy of his death. All seemed too
oppressed with the memories of our last gathering to break the silence
and we stood waiting on one another for the first word. Several members
of the club in the meantime came to the door and looked in, but seeing
us four together turned back. At last Van Bult said:
"I suppose the papers have told me all you men know. I learned of it
first in Buffalo, and returned as soon as I could. I am sorry I went
away at all, but it was a matter of importance and I suppose I could
have been of no use here." He paused a moment, but none of us said
anything, and he went on: "So far as I can learn there is absolutely no
clue to the mystery. I did not know that poor Arthur had an enemy in
the world. Is there any evidence of a motive?" he concluded.
"None," Davis replied, "except that the money you left on the table was
gone."
"That was a small sum to murder a man for," he replied; "and no one knew
of its being there, either, but--" he hesitated, and then broke off:
"Does suspicion attach to any one?"
I refrained from answering but Littell said, "No."
Noticing my silence, however, Van Bult turned to me and asked if the
police knew more than the public.
"Yes," I told him, "they do; they think perhaps they have the right
man."
"It is clever work if they have really found him so soon," he answered,
"for it must have been a blind trail to pick up."
"Too clever by much," said Littell; "I don't believe it."
"Nor I," I joined in, but more to myself than the others.
Davis ventured no opinion. He only looked from one to another of us as
we spoke. I doubt if the subject would have interested him at all
except for our connection with it. After a while, in a pause in our talk
he suggested something "to eat and drink and billiards or anything to
cheer us up," as he said.
I don't think any of us were averse to a digression from the subject
which hung over us like a pall and we took his advice and to all
appearance, at least, the others put the subject away from them for the
remainder of the night. It was never out of my thoughts, however; till
the man who killed White was found and brought to justice I knew I could
not rest, and I fancy Littell and Van Bult had some idea of what was in
my mind, for they looked at me curiously now and then during the
evening, and at parting Littell said:
"Cheer up, Dick, the world is full of the troubles of other people, and
you will find your own enough to worry over."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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