The Almost Perfect Murder by Hulbert Footner (reading the story of the TXT) 📕

hall boy wondered why you didn’t let him post it. But you had a very

good reason, of course. It was addressed to Inspector Rumsey at Police

Headquarters. Through the post office we have established that that

letter was posted on Lexington Avenue somewhere between Thirty-Sixth

Street and Forty-Second, and was taken up in the eleven o’clock

collection.”

Miss Priestley listened to this with an enigmatic smile. It was all a

mystery to Henry Varick, of course. He sat forward in his chair

listening with strained anxiety.

“The second letter we can bring even closer to you,” Mme. Storey went

on. “You will remember you and I were talking in the next room about

half-past two yesterday, when the name of the Princess Cristina was

suddenly injected into the case, and I went tearing off to find her.

Again you thought the real criminal was likely to escape, and you sat

down and wrote the second note. You left this house at 3.10, somewhat

earlier than your custom. You were picked up by a detective and

followed. You entered the branch post office in the Grand Central

Station, and dropped a letter in a chute. My operative could not see

the address; however the post office has reported to us that the second

anonymous letter was received through a chute in that post office and

cancelled at 3.30.”

“Well, I give in,” said the girl with a calm gesture. “I didn’t want

to appear in this horrible case, but I see it is inevitable.”

“Inspector Rumsey and I have only one question to ask you,” said Mme.

Storey. “How did you know that Commodore Varick had been poisoned?”

“I didn’t know it,” she said quickly, “I only suspected it.”

“Your first note stated it as a fact.”

“I know. I thought an investigation ought to be made. I thought that

would be the best way of bringing it about.”

“Oh, quite. What made you suspect that he had been poisoned?”

Miss Priestley hesitated. She glanced fleetingly at Henry through her

lashes. “Ought he to be present when I am telling these things?” she

asked.

Mme. Storey looked at the Inspector in seeming concern. A glance of

intelligence passed between them which the girl could not have seen.

“How about it, Inspector?” my employer asked. “Is it proper for him to

hear this?”

“Oh, yes,” said the Inspector with a judicial air. “A man is always

entitled to hear what he is charged with.”

I doubted very much if this was the usual practice; however, the girl

could have known no better. She resumed with the air of one

conscientiously performing a disagreeable duty: “Mr. Henry knew all

about poisons. I knew that he had a collection of dangerous poisons.

In the past I had heard him talk about poisoning people…”

“Oh, no!” cried Henry in a shocked voice.

The girl looked at Mme. Storey. “I knew this was going to be painful,”

she murmured.

“Let me explain!” cried Henry desperately. “It is true that I have

talked to her about poisons. I have described to her how men would die

after having taken different poisons; aconite, strychnine, arsenic and

so on; but I never proposed to poison anybody!”

“It is not important,” said Mme. Storey smoothly. “The fact that you

had talked about poisons is not sufficient in itself to have aroused

her suspicions.” She turned to the girl. “How did you know that Mr.

Henry had been in the house on Tuesday afternoon?”

“I saw him,” was the calm reply. She went on: “In my anxiety to keep

out of all this, I suppressed part of the truth yesterday. I did not,

as I then told you, go downstairs as soon as I had admitted the

Princess to the Commodore’s study. I went into the office where I had

some work to finish. A few minutes later I heard the rumble of a man’s

voice in this room. I was greatly astonished, because I had not heard

the Princess leave, and I knew that the Commodore had no other

appointment. In fact, I was alarmed. We all considered it a part of

our duty to protect the Commodore from possible intruders. I went to

the door between the two rooms and opened it a crack. I saw Mr. Henry

in here.”

“Was he alone with his father?”

A pinched look came into the girl’s face. “No,” she said stiffly,

“Miss Gilsey was here too—if that is her name.”

“Ha!” cried the Inspector.

“I told you that,” said Mme. Storey.

“But you only surmised it. This is direct evidence.”

My mistress smiled. To the girl she said: “Please describe what you

saw in this room.”

“Oh, as soon as I saw it was a family matter I closed the door,” she

said. “I had only the briefest glimpse.”

“What did that glimpse show you?”

“As I opened the door I heard the Commodore saying: ‘Not a cent! Not a

cent! Let the marriage be annulled and I’ll settle!’”

Mr. Henry started up. “My father never said that!” he cried.

“Please be silent!” commanded the Inspector.

“What marriage did he refer to?” asked Mme. Storey.

“The marriage between Mr. Henry and Miss Gilsey.”

The young man dropped his head between his hands. “I wanted to keep

her out of this!” he groaned.

“Oh, they’re married, are they?” said my mistress coolly.

The girl’s nostrils became pinched again. “He said they were. But

that was on the day before. On Monday afternoon Mr. Henry saw his

father alone, and they had a violent quarrel. They talked so loud I

could hear a good deal in my room. Mr. Henry told his father then that

he was married to Miss Gilsey. I don’t know if it’s true, or if he

just said so to get out of the match with the Princess. At any rate

the Commodore was infuriated because he looked upon Miss Gilsey as an

adventuress. He told his son not to expect a cent from him, and

ordered him out of the house.”

“That was on Monday,” said Mme. Storey; “now, returning to Tuesday,

what did you see when you looked in this room?”

“They were grouped around the tea-table—this table. As it happened it

was just in line with the crack of the door. The Commodore had that

moment risen, and was walking away towards the window there. His back

was therefore turned to me. Mr. Henry was standing between me and the

table, and his back was towards me. Miss Gilsey was seated at the

table with the tea-tray before her, and I could see her face….” The

girl hesitated.

“Well?” prompted Mme. Storey.

Miss Priestley was breathing quickly. “Nothing happened,” she said

with a jerky gesture. “Nothing that I could swear to on the

witness-stand. It was just a glimpse…. I saw her give him an

extraordinary look. His hands were hidden from me … but he bent over

the table a little … it seemed to me that the movements of his arms

were suspicious … that’s all.”

It was a horribly vivid picture that she called up. I think we all

shuddered. Mr. Henry’s face was hidden.

“And from that you thought…?” Mme. Storey prompted further.

“Well, taken in connection with what had happened the day before,” said

Miss Priestley. “I knew that Mr. Henry feared the will was going to be

changed. As a matter of fact it had already been changed, but he could

not have known of that. I supposed that he had brought the girl along

in a final effort to soften the Commodore’s heart, and when that failed

he was rendered desperate.”

“Quite!” said Mme. Storey.

It seemed as if Mme. Storey’s plan to confront them would come to

nothing, owing to Henry Varick’s having been utterly crushed by the

girl’s statement. He sat with his elbows on his knees, and his head

pressed between his hands. In order to stir him up, the Inspector said

in a rasping voice: “Have you nothing to say, sir?”

The young man started to his feet with a wild, despairing face. “What

she says is nearly true,” he cried; “but just that little difference

makes all the difference between life and death to me!”

“You may question her if you wish,” said Mme. Storey.

He quieted down. “I don’t want to question her,” he said, “but I want

to tell her something.” He approached the girl, looking at her

steadily. Something new had come into his face, something firm and

fine; it was the look of a man brought to the last extremity of grief

and danger, who is suddenly lifted out of himself.

“Julia, is it worth it?” he said.

She was shrinking away from him with a look of repulsion. “Do I have

to submit to this?” she murmured, appealing to Mme. Storey.

“It is his right to break down your story, if he can,” said my mistress.

The girl drew a long breath, and stiffened herself. “He can’t do

that,” she said confidently, “because I have said nothing but the

simple truth. But let him try.” She sat down in the same chair that

she had before occupied, and met Henry’s glance with a cold smile.

This time his eyes did not quail from hers. “Julia,” he went on, in a

low, moved voice, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you. I am a coward

where women are concerned. I can’t bear to hurt them. Ever since I

grew up it seems I have been running away from women. And that only

made matters worse, of course. I wouldn’t face things out. But now I

must face things out. If only for once I could find the right words to

express the truth! Julia, I treated you badly. Must I die for that?”

He paused, searching her face to see if his words had had any effect.

How she was able to withstand the appeal in those deep blue eyes, I

could not comprehend. The only sign of emotion she gave was to rise

suddenly, and press herself against the wall, as if to get as far as

possible from him. Her face was like marble.

“You know that this story you have told will send me to the chair,” he

resumed. “It’s so nearly true that you can tell it with an easy

conscience. But is it worth it? In your heart you know that I am

incapable of killing my father. You know me! Why, the whole trouble

between us arose from the fact that I was too tender-hearted and

easy-going, and you were ambitious. You scorned me, remember, because

I hadn’t the heart to whip a puppy at Easthampton that had nipped me.”

I cannot hope to convey in print the moving quality of that grave,

young voice, low and shaken in tone. I know the tears were rolling

unchecked down my cheeks, and I could see that both the Inspector and

my mistress were affected. But the girl listened with a twisted smile

in her white face; the smile of one who would die sooner than give in.

“You are mistaken if you think I lied when I told you I loved you,” he

continued. “Your beauty laid a spell on me. I worshipped your beauty.

You possessed me entirely…. But I couldn’t marry you. Our natures

were too different. We would have driven each other mad. I should

have told you