Detective and mystery stories; Inheritance and succession -- Fiction
"That's half water, too; but it cannot hide every clew. You have eyes for
the imperceptible; use them, Mr. Harper, use them."
"I will; but this is a detective's work. Do not expect too much from me."
"I expect nothing. I do not dare to. Let us tread very softly, that is
all, and be careful to talk low, if we have anything to say."
By this time they had rounded the corner of the house and entered a
narrow walk, flagged with brick, which connected the space in front
with the rear offices and garden. This walk ran close to the walls which
were broken on this side by an ell projecting in the direction of the
mill-stream. It was from the roof of this ell that Anitra declared
Georgian to have slipped and fallen.
Their first care was to glance up at the roof. It was a sloping one and
Anitra's story seemed credible enough when they noted how much easier it
would be to drop upon it from the little balcony overhead than to
traverse the roof itself and reach the ground beneath without slipping.
But as they looked longer, each face betrayed doubt. The descent from the
balcony was easy enough, but how about the passage from Georgian's window
to the balcony? This latter was confined to the one window, and was
surrounded by an ornamental balustrade, high enough to offer a decided
obstacle to the adventurous person endeavoring to leap upon it from the
adjoining window-ledge. However, this leap, made in the dark and under
circumstances inducing the utmost recklessness, might look practical
enough from the window-ledge itself, and Mr. Harper, making a remark to
this effect, proposed that they should examine the ground rather than the
house for evidences of Mrs. Ransom's slip and fall as related by Anitra.
The only spot where they could hope to find such was in the one short
stretch--the width of the ell--underlying the edge of the sloping roof.
But this spot was all flagged, as I have already said, and when their
eyes strayed beyond it to the untilled fields, stretching between them
and the great rock at the verge of the waterfall from which she was
supposed to have taken her fatal leap, it was to find them as
unproductive of evidence as the brick walk itself. Not one pair of feet
but many had passed that way since early morning. The ground showed a
mass of impressions of all sizes and shapes, amid which it would have
been impossible for them, without the necessary experience, to have
followed up the flight of any one person. They had come to their task
too late.
"Futile," decided the lawyer. "There is no use in our going that way."
And he turned to look again at the ground in their immediate vicinity. As
he did so, his eye lighted on the triangular spot where the ell met the
side of the house under the kitchen windows. Here there was no flagging,
the walk taking a diagonal course from the corner of the ell to the
kitchen door.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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