Part 6 (1/2)
”A frightful blow,” said Dr. Shower. ”And it was a strong arm that struck it.” Then, with suddenly increased interest, he peered still closer at the terrible wound in the side of the head. ”h.e.l.lo,” said he, ”this is rather unusual in shape.” He looked up at the sergeant who was pa.s.sing his hand behind a row of books upon a shelf. ”What sort of a weapon was used?” he asked.
The police sergeant turned a look at the questioner over his shoulder.
”We haven't been able to find any,” said he, ”and we've looked everywhere. I've been over this room a dozen times myself, and I'm going over it again. It wasn't done with the kind of a thing a man would carry in his pockets--I'm sure of that.”
”Right,” said Osborne, who had also closely examined the wound by this time. ”The cut's too wide for a blackjack, or what the English call a 'life-preserver'; and it's too deep. It was made with something with a sharp edge--something wide and heavy.”
”Are you quite sure of that?” The voice was that of Frank Burton, and looking in the direction of the door, they saw that the young man had entered the room. ”Is it not possible that the wound was caused by a regulation weapon of some sort after all; is the shape of the cut an infallible test as to the character of the instrument used?”
There was an anxious eagerness in the voice; the gray pallor of the face, and the feverish eyes were those of a man whose nerves were clamoring, but whose roused mind refused to give them rest.
”Such is the case in the great majority of instances,” said Dr. Shower, firmly. ”We are seldom led astray.”
”There has been no weapon found,” persisted young Burton; ”and that being the case do you not think it possible----”
But here a sudden exclamation from Osborne, who had gone to one of the windows and stood looking out, interrupted the speaker. In spite of his bigness the detective was in excellent training; with a spring he went through the window which opened upon a walk fringed with autumn-brown bushes; and in another moment he was back in the room.
”Don't be too sure about no weapon being found,” said he, triumph in his face and voice. ”What would you call this?”
As he spoke he held up a heavy bra.s.s candlestick; it had a solid base of metal, and the edge of this was darkly clotted with blood.
CHAPTER IV
ASHTON-KIRK MAKES ONE VISIT, AND PLANS ANOTHER
Ashton-Kirk sat cross-legged upon a sofa, the amber bit of his Coblentz pipe between his teeth, and the wreaths of smoke curling above his head.
About him were scattered bound volumes of police papers; and upon his knees rested a huge book, canvas covered and seeming full of carefully s.p.a.ced entries done in a copper plate hand.
”I knew the 'Bounder' had gone along without much friction with the police,” said the investigator; ”but I'll admit that I'm a bit surprised at the completeness of the thing.”
A dapper young man who stood at a filing case, going over a thick inset of cards, laughed a little.
”I'll venture to say that there is not a police blotter in any large city in the country that holds the name of Tom Burton,” said he. ”But there are dozens of other names--poor devils, rounded up in some risky operation of which the 'Bounder' was the instigator.”
Ashton-Kirk nodded.
”One might call that 'd.o.g.g.i.ng it,'” said he, ”or it might be viewed as exceedingly clever work. It altogether depends upon the point of view.
To maintain such an att.i.tude in the background over a long period of time calls for a rigorous self-repression. Burton was evidently a criminal of some parts.”
”Well, looking at it from that side, I suppose it's so,” said the dapper young man. ”But I've been accustomed to seeing Burton and his kind as a sort of dregs, and I was just a little surprised when you began to look him up.”
Ashton-Kirk smiled and drew a long draft of smoke from the big pipe.
”It is, very likely, time wasted,” he said; ”for it's a hundred to one that nothing----”
Here there came a long ”blurr-r-r” from the lower part of the house, and the investigator stopped short.