The Darrow Enigma by Melvin L. Severy (brene brown rising strong txt) 📕

altogether the idea of murder, or have recourse to what is known as

the theory of exclusive opportunity.”

“Theory of exclusive opportunity,” repeated Gwen, as a puzzled look

overspread her countenance. “I - I fear I do not quite understand

what you mean.”

“Pardon me, Miss Darrow, for not making my meaning clearer to you,”

said Maitland with a deferential inclination of the head. “The

theory of exclusive opportunity, to state it plainly in this case,

means simply this: if Mr. Darrow were murdered, some one of us five,

we being the only ones having an opportunity to do the deed, must

be the assassin. Whether this view be taken, or that of suicide, it

becomes of paramount importance to find the weapon. Do you not now

see why I objected to having anyone leave the room? If, as appears

likely from my search, the weapon is not to be found, and if, as I

feel reasonably certain, either the suicide or the murder theory be

substantiated, then, anyone who left the room before official search

was made would be held to have taken the weapon with him and disposed

of it, because his would have been the exclusive opportunity of so

doing. Someone must have disposed of it, and no one else had a

chance to do so; that would be the way it would be stated. But,

since no one of us has left the room, a thorough search both of it

and of our persons, must convince the officers that we, at least,

are not responsible for the fact that the weapon is not forthcoming.”

Maitland paused and looked at Browne as if he expected him to speak,

but that gentleman only shut his square jaws the more firmly together

and held his peace, - at least in so far as words were concerned.

If looks, like actions, “speak louder than words,” this black visage

with its two points of fire made eloquent discourse. I charged all

this display of malice to jealousy. It is not altogether pleasant

to be placed at a disadvantage before the one being whose good

opinion one prizes above all things else, - that is to say, I have

read that such is the case. I do not consider my own views upon

such matters expert testimony. In all affairs of the heart my

opinions cease to have weight at exactly the point where that organ

ceases to be a pump.

Even Gwen, I think, noticed Browne’s determined silence, for she

said to Maitland:

“I am very grateful that your forethought prevented me from causing

Mr. Browne even temporary annoyance by making him my messenger.”

She paused a moment and then continued:

“You were speaking of the officers’ theories. When they have

convinced themselves that no one of us has removed the weapon, what

then?”

“In my opinion,” said Maitland, “they will ultimately fall back upon

the suicide theory, but they must find the weapon here before they

can substantiate it; for if it be not here someone must have taken

it away and that someone could have only been the one who used it

- the assassin, in short - but here are the officers. Let each one

of us insist upon being searched. They can send to the station for

a woman to search you,” he said in an undertone to Gwen and then

added: “I trust you will pardon my suggesting a course which, in

your case, seems so utterly unnecessary, but, believe me, there are

urgent reasons for it which I can explain later. If we would hope

to solve this mystery, everything depends upon absolute thoroughness

at this juncture.”

“I should evince but poor appreciation,” Gwen replied, “of the

ability you have already shown should I fail to follow your slightest

suggestion. It is all I can offer you by way of thanks for the

kind interest you have taken.”

The return of Officer Barker, accompanied by three other men, now

changed the tide of conversation. Maitland advanced and shook hands

with one whom he introduced as Mr. Osborne, and this gentleman in

turn introduced his brother officer, a Mr. Allen, and , a

special detective.

Osborne impressed me as a man of only mediocre ability, thoroughly

imbued with the idea that he is exceptionally clever. He spoke

loudly and, I thought, a bit ostentatiously, yet withal in a manner

so frank and hearty that I could not help liking the fellow.

, on the contrary, seemed retiring almost to the point of

self-abnegation. He said but little, apparently preferring to keep

in the background, where he could record his own observations in

his notebook without too frequent interruption. His manner was

polished in the extreme, and so frank withal that he seemed to me

like a man of glass through whom every thought shone unhindered.

I wondered how one who seemed powerless to conceal his own emotions

should possess a detective’s ability to thread his way through the

dark and hidden duplicity of crime. When he spoke it was in a low,

velvety, and soothing voice, that fell upon the ear with an

irresistible charm. When Osborne would make some thoughtless

remark fraught with bitterness for Gwen, such an expression of pain

would flit across ‘s fine face as one occasionally sees

in those highly organised and sympathetic natures, - usually found

among women if a doctor’s experience may be trusted, - which catch

the throb of another’s hurt, even as adjacent strings strive to

sing each other’s songs.

seemed to me more priest than detective. His clean-shaven

face, its beautifully chiselled features suffused with that peculiar

pallor which borrows the transparency of marble; the large, limpid

brown eyes and the delicate, kindly mouth - all these, combined with

a faultless manner and a carriage suggestive of power in reserve,

so fascinated me that I found myself watching him continually. I

remember saying to myself: “What a rival he would make in a woman’s

affections!”

At just that time he was looking at Gwen with tender, solicitous

sympathy written in every feature, and that doubtless suggested my

thought.

Mr. Allen was even more ordinary than Mr. Osborne in manner and

appearance. I do not presume to judge his real merits, for I did

not notice him sufficiently to properly portray him to you, even

if I had the gift of description, which I think you will admit I

have not. He lives in my memory only as a something tall, spare,

coarse of texture, red, hairy, and redolent of poor tobacco.

How different men are! (Of course women are all alike!) While

Osborne, like a good-natured bumble-bee, was buzzing noisily about,

as though all the world were his clover-blossom; and Allen, so far

as I know, was doing nothing; , alert and keen despite his

gentleness and a modesty which kept him for the most part

unobtrusively in the shadow of his chosen corner, was writing

rapidly in a notebook and speaking no word. It seemed as if

nothing escaped him. Clearly he was there to enlighten himself

rather than others. At length, pausing to make a measurement,

he noticed my gaze and said to me in an undertone, as he glanced

solicitously at Gwen lest she should hear:

“Pardon me, but did any of you observe anything, at or about the

time of Mr. Darrow’s death, which impressed you as singular, - any

noise, any shadow, any draught or change of temperature, say a

rushing or I might say swishing sound, - anything, in fact, that

would seem to you as at all unusual?”

“Nothing whatever,” I replied. “Everything seemed perfectly normal

and commonplace.”

“Hum! Strange!” he said, and returned to his notes.

I felt sure had had a theory and that my testimony had not

strengthened it, but he did not volunteer any information, neither

did he take part in the conversation of his companions, and so my

curiosity remained ungratified. It was clear that ‘s methods

were very different from those of Osborne and Allen.

I need not weary you by further narrating what occurred at this

official examination. Suffice it to say that, with one or two minor

exceptions, Osborne and Allen followed the precise course of

reasoning prophesied by Maitland, and, as for , he

courteously, but firmly, held his peace. The two officers did not,

however, lean as strongly to the theory that death resulted from

natural causes as Maitland had anticipated, and, I think, this

surprised

him. He had already told them that he expected to be able to show

death to have resulted from poison hypodermically applied, and, as

I overheard a remark made by Osborne to Allen, I readily understood

their speedy abandonment of their natural-death theory. They were

engaged in verifying Maitland’s measurement of the east side of the

room when Osborne said softly to his companion: “He has figured in

several of my cases as a chemical expert, and when he expresses an

opinion on a matter it’s about the same as proved. He’s not the

kind that jumps in the dark. He’s a lawyer as well as chemist and

knows what’s evidence, so I reckon we’d better see if we can make

anything out of the suicide and murder theories.”

Maitland had asked them to send to the station for a woman to search

Gwen and she had just arrived. We all requested that a most

thorough examination should now be made to assure the officers that

no one of us possessed the missing weapon. This done, the officers

and departed for the night, assuring Gwen that there was

nothing further to be done till morning, and Osborne, doubtless with

a view to consoling her, said: “It may be a relief to you, miss,

to know that there is scarcely a doubt that your father took his

own life.” This had an effect upon Gwen very different from that

which had been intended. Her face contracted, and it was plain to

see she was beginning to think everyone was determined to force a

falsehood upon her. Herne and Browne also prepared to take their

leave. A glance from Maitland told me he wished me to remain with

him a moment after the others had departed, and I accordingly did so.

When we were alone with Gwen he said to her: “I think I understand

your feeling with regard to Mr. Osborne’s remark, as well as your

conviction that it does not represent the truth. I foresaw they

would come to this conclusion, and know very well the pains they

will take to prove their hypothesis.” “Can nothing be done?” she

asked beseechingly. “It is that of which I wish to speak,” he

replied. “If you have sufficient confidence in me to place the

case in my hands, I will do everything in my power to establish

the truth, - on one condition,” and he glanced at her face, now

pale and rigid from her long-continued effort of self-control.

“And that condition is?” she said quickly. “That you follow my

directions and permit me to order your movements in all things, so

long as the case remains in my hands; if at any time I seek to

abuse your faith, you are as free to discharge me as if I were a

paid detective.” Gwen looked searchingly at him; then, extending

her hand to him, she said impulsively: “You are very kind; I

accept the condition. What shall I do?”

I tried to catch Maitland’s eye to tell him what he should counsel

her, but a man with his ability to observe conditions and grasp

situations can very well do without prompting. “First,” he said,

“you must return home with the Doctor and spend the rest of the

night with his sister; I shall stay here until morning; and second,