Part 6 (1/2)
DETECTIVE AND DOCTOR
As already intimated, Adam Adams, in his career as an investigator and detective, had solved many difficult criminal problems, yet this somewhat remarkable individual realized that the mystery before him was as difficult of solution as any he had yet encountered.
The most tantalizing thing about the whole affair was its simplicity.
Two people had been murdered in their own home in broad daylight. No one had been seen around the place, and even the manner in which the foul deed had been committed was a secret.
A score of possibilities presented themselves to his mind when he left Margaret Langmore and Raymond Case to begin the task he had set before himself--to clear the fair name of the beautiful girl who had placed her faith in him and his ability.
”I'll take a look around the house first,” he reasoned. ”Then I'll find out a little more about these dead folks and their connections.”
Thinking that he must be some noted lawyer from New York, Mrs. Morse was very gracious to him, and readily consented to show him around.
”Here is the spot where Mrs. Langmore's body was found,” said the woman, leading the way to a bend in the upper hallway. ”The servant girl tripped over it in her hurry, and went sprawling. She was about scared out of her wits.”
”Naturally enough. Do you know how the body was lying?”
”At full length, they say, face downward, and with the fists clenched.”
”Was that window open?”
”Yes, but not the blinds.”
”Where does that door lead to?”
”Mrs. Langmore's dressing room. The door was open when they found her--as if she had come out and was trying to get downstairs.”
”Humph!” The detective pushed the blinds of the window open and began to examine the carpet on the floor.
”We've looked around, but we couldn't see a thing,” pursued the woman.
”We? Who?”
”The coroner and the police officers.”
”Oh! You say the body was lying right here?”
”Yes--the head there, and the feet there. I suppose you are going to try to clear Miss Langmore, aren't you?” went on Mrs. Morse curiously.
”I am--if she is innocent.”
”You'll have a task doing it. Everybody around here thinks her guilty.”
To this Adam Adams did not reply. He was down on his hands and knees, close to where the head of the murdered woman had rested. He placed his nose to the carpet and drew in a long breath. His olfactory nerves were sensitive, and detected a certain pungent, stinging odor, of a sort not easily forgotten.
”You must be pretty short-sighted,” was the woman's comment. The sight of the man on his hands and knees amused her.
”Well, I might have a better pair of eyes, I admit.”
From his examination of the carpet, the detective turned to the window.
Outside was the roof to the side piazza of the mansion. On the tin roof were some dried-up spots of mud. He looked them over carefully, and came to the conclusion that they were footprints, but how old was a question.