The Mark of Cain Page 6

  CHAPTER VI OUT OF THE WEST

  A bomb dropped from an aeroplane could scarcely have caused greaterexcitement among the audience. Every eye in the room followed the tallyoung figure, as Kane Landon strode to the table behind which the coronersat. That worthy official looked as if he had suddenly been bereft of allintelligence as well as power of speech. In fact, he sat and looked atthe man before him, with such an alarmed expression, that one mightalmost have thought he was the culprit, and the new witness the accusingjudge.

  But Mr. Berg pulled himself together, and began his perfunctoryquestions.

  "You are Kane Landon?"

  "Yes."

  "Related to Mr. Trowbridge?"

  "I am the nephew of his wife, who died many years ago."

  "Where do you live?"

  "For the last five years I have lived in Denver, Colorado."

  "And you are East on a visit?"

  "I came East, hoping to persuade my uncle to finance a mining project inwhich I am interested."

  "And which he refused to do?"

  "Which he refused to do."

  There was something about the young man's manner which was distinctlyirritating to Coroner Berg. It was as if the stranger was laughing athim, and yet no one could show a more serious face than the witnesspresented. The onlookers held their breath in suspense. Avice stared atyoung Landon. She remembered him well. Five years ago they had been greatfriends, when she was fifteen and he twenty. Now, he looked much morethan five years older. He was bronzed, and his powerful frame hadacquired a strong, well-knit effect that told of outdoor life and muchexercise. His face was hard and inscrutable of expression. He was notprepossessing, nor of an inviting demeanor, but rather repelling inaspect. His stern, clear-cut mouth showed a haughty curve and a scornfulpride shone in the steely glint of his deep gray eyes. He stood erect,his hands carelessly clasped behind him, and seemed to await furtherquestioning.

  Nor did he wait long. The coroner's tongue once loosed, his queries camedirect and rapid.

  "Will you give an account of your movements yesterday, Mr. Landon?"

  "Certainly. The narrative of my uncle's office boy is substantially true.I reached New York from the West day before yesterday. I went yesterdaymorning to see my uncle. I asked him for the money I wanted and herefused it. Then I went away."

  "And afterward?"

  "Oh, afterward, I looked about the city a bit, and went back to my hotelfor luncheon."

  "And after luncheon?"

  Landon's aplomb seemed suddenly to desert him. "After luncheon," hebegan, and paused. He shifted his weight to the other foot; he unclaspedhis hands and put them in his pockets; he frowned as if in a brown studyand finally, his eyes fell on Avice and rested there. The girl was gazingat him with an eager, strained face, and it seemed to arrest hisattention to the exclusion of all else.

  "Well?" said the coroner, impatiently.

  Landon's fair hair was thick and rather longer than the conventionsdecreed. He shook back this mane, with a defiant gesture, and saidclearly, "After luncheon, I went to walk in Van Cortlandt Park."

  The audience gasped. Was this the honesty of innocence or the bravado ofshameless guilt?

  Leslie Hoyt looked at Landon curiously. Hoyt was a clever man and quickreader of character, but this young Westerner apparently puzzled him. Heseemed to take a liking to him, but reserved decision as to thejustification of this attitude. Avice went white and was afraid she wasgoing to faint. To her, the admission sounded like a confession of thecrime, and it was too incredible to be believed. And yet, as sheremembered Kane, it was like him to tell the truth. In their old playdays, he had often told the truth, she remembered, even though to his owndisadvantage. And she remembered, too, how he had often escaped with alighter punishment because he had been frank! Was this his idea? Had hereally killed his uncle, and fearing discovery, was he trying toforestall the consequences by admission?

  "Mr. Landon," went on the coroner, "that is a more or less incriminatingstatement. Are you aware your uncle was murdered in Van Cortlandt Parkwoods yesterday afternoon?"

  "Yes," was the reply, but in a voice so low as to be almost inaudible.

  "At what time were you there?"

  "I don't know, exactly. I returned home before sundown."

  "Why did you go there?"

  "Because when with my uncle in the morning he happened to remark therewere often good golf games played there, and as it was a beautifulafternoon, and I had nothing especial to do, I went out there."

  "Why did you not go to call on your cousin, Miss Trowbridge?"

  Landon glared at the speaker. "You are outside your privileges in askingthat question. I decline to answer. My personal affairs in no way concernyou. Kindly get to the point. Am I under suspicion of being my uncle'smurderer?"

  "Perhaps that is too definite a statement, but it is necessary for us tolearn the truth about your implication in the matter."

  "Go on, then, with your questions. But for Heaven's sake, keep to thepoint, and don't bring in personal or family affairs. And incidentally,Miss Trowbridge is _not_ my cousin."

  The words were spoken lightly, almost flippantly, and seemed to somelisteners as if meant to divert attention from the business in hand.

  "But she is the niece of the late Mr. Trowbridge."

  "Miss Trowbridge is the daughter of Mr. Trowbridge's brother, who diedyears ago. I am the nephew of Mr. Trowbridge's late wife, as I believe Ihave already stated."

  Nobody liked the young man's manner. It was careless, indifferent, andinattentive. He stood easily, and was in no way embarrassed, but hisbravado, whether real or assumed, was distasteful to those who wereearnestly trying to discover the facts of the crime that had beencommitted. There were many who at once leaped to the conclusion that theSwede's testimony of the victim's dying words, proved conclusively thatthe murderer was of a necessity this young man, whose name was Kane, andwho so freely admitted his presence near the scene of the tragedy.

  "As you suggest, Mr. Landon," said the coroner, coldly, "we will keep tothe point. When you were in Van Cortlandt Park, yesterday, did you seeyour uncle, Mr. Trowbridge there?"

  "I did not."

  The answer was given in a careless, unconcerned way that exasperated thecoroner.

  "Can you prove that?" he snapped out.

  Landon looked at him in mild amazement, almost amusement. "Certainlynot," he replied; "nor do I need to. The burden of proof rests with you.If you suspect me of having killed my uncle, it is for you to produceproof."

  Coroner Berg looked chagrined. He had never met just this sort of awitness before, and did not know quite how to treat him.

  And yet Landon was respectful, serious, and polite. Indeed, one mighthave found it hard to say what was amiss in his attitude, but none coulddeny there was something. It was after all, an aloofness, a separateness,that seemed to disconnect this man with the proceedings now going on; andwhich was so, only because the man himself willed it.

  Coroner Berg restlessly and only half-consciously sensed this state ofthings, and gropingly strove to fasten on some facts.

  Nor were these hard to find. The facts were clear and startling enough,and were to a legal mind conclusive. There was, so far as known, noeye-witness to the murder, but murderers do not usually play to anaudience.

  "We have learned, Mr. Landon," the coroner said, "that you had anunsatisfactory interview with your uncle; that you did not get from himthe money you desired. That, later, he was killed in a locality where youadmit you were yourself. That his dying words are reported to be, 'Kanekilled me! willful murder.' I ask you what you have to say in refutationof the conclusions we naturally draw from these facts?"

  There was a hush over the whole room, as the answer to this arraignmentwas breathlessly awaited.

  At last it came. Landon looked the coroner squarely in the eye, and said:"I have this to say. That my uncle's words,--if, indeed, those werereally his words, mi
ght as well refer, as you assumed at first, to anyone else, as to myself. The name Cain, would, of course, mean in ageneral way, any one of murderous intent. The fact that my own namechances to be Kane is a mere coincidence, and in no sense a proof of myguilt."

  The speaker grew more emphatic in voice and gesture as he proceeded, andthis did not militate in his favor. Rather, his irritation and vehementmanner prejudiced many against him. Had he been cool and collected, hisdeclarations would have met better belief, but his agitated tones soundedlike the last effort in a lost cause.

  With harrowing pertinacity, the coroner quizzed and pumped the witness asto his every move of the day before. Landon was forced to admit that hehad quarreled with his uncle, and left him in a fit of temper, and with athreat to get the money elsewhere.

  "And did you get it?" queried the coroner at this point.

  "I did not."

  "Where did you hope to get it?"

  "I refuse to tell you."

  "Mr. Landon, your manner is not in your favor. But that is not anessential point. The charges I have enumerated are as yet unanswered:and, moreover, I am informed by one of my assistants that there isfurther evidence against you. Sandstrom, come forward."

  The stolid-looking Swede came.

  "Look at Mr. Landon," said Berg; "do you think you saw him in VanCortlandt Park yesterday?"

  "Ay tank Ay did."

  "Near the scene of the murder?"

  "Ay tank so."

  "You lie!"

  The voice that rang out was that of Fibsy, the irrepressible.

  And before the coroner could remonstrate, the boy was up beside theSwede, talking to him in an earnest tone. "Clem Sandstrom," he said, "youare saying what you have been told to say! Ain't you?"

  "Ay tank so," returned the imperturbable Swede.

  "There!" shouted Fibsy, triumphantly; "now, wait a minute, Mr. Berg," andby the force of his own insistence Fibsy held the audience, while hepursued his own course. He drew a silver quarter from his pocket andhanded it to Sandstrom. "Look at that," he cried, "look at it good!" Hesnatched it back. "Did you look at it good?" and he shook his fist in theother's face.

  "Yes, Ay look at it good."

  "All right; now tell me where the plugged hole in it was? Was it underthe date, or was it over the eagle?"

  The Swede thought deeply.

  "Be careful, now! Where was it, old top? Over the eagle?"

  "Yes. Ay tank it been over the eagle."

  "You _tank_ so! Don't you _know_?"

  The heavy face brightened. "Yes, Ay _know_! Ay know it been over theeagle."

  "You're _sure_?"

  "Yes, Ay bane sure."

  "All right, pard. You see, Mr. Coroner," and Fibsy handed the quarterover to Berg, "they ain't no hole in it anywhere!"

  Nor was there. Berg looked mystified. "What's it all about?" he said,helplessly.

  "Why," said Fibsy, eagerly, "don't you see, if that fool Swede don't knowenough to see whether there's a hole in a piece o' chink or not, he ain'tno reliable witness in a murder case!"

  The boy had scored. So far as the Swede's alleged recognition of Landonwas evidence, it was discarded at once. Coroner Berg looked at the boy inperplexity, not realizing just how the incident of the silver quarter hadcome about. It was by no means his intention to allow freckle-facedoffice boys to interfere with his legal proceedings. He had read in abook about mal-observation and the rarity of truly remembered evidence,but he had not understood it clearly and it was only a vague idea to him.So it nettled him to have the principle put to a practical use by animpertinent urchin, who talked objectionable slang.

  Judge Hoyt looked at Fibsy with growing interest. That boy had brains, heconcluded, and might be more worth-while than his appearance indicated.Avice, too, took note of the bright-eyed chap, and Kane Landon, himself,smiled in open approval.

  But Fibsy was in no way elated, or even conscious that he had attractedattention. He had acted on impulse; he had disbelieved the Swede'sevidence, and he had sought to disprove it by a simple experiment, whichworked successfully. His assertion that the Swede had been told to saythat he recognized Landon, was somewhat a chance shot.

  Fibsy reasoned it out, that if Sandstrom had seen Landon in the woods, hewould have recognized him sooner at the inquest, or might even have toldof him before his appearance. And he knew that the police now suspectedLandon, and as they were eager to make an arrest, they had persuaded theSwede that he had seen the man. Sandstrom's brain was slow and he hadlittle comprehension. Whether guilty or innocent, he had come to thescene at his wife's orders, and might he not equally well have testifiedat the orders or hints of the police? At any rate, he had admitted thathe had been told to say what he had said, and so he had been disqualifiedas a witness.

  And yet, it all proved nothing, rather it left them with no definiteproof of any sort. Fibsy ignored the stupid-looking Swede, and stared atthe coroner, until that dignitary became a little embarrassed. Realizingthat he had lessened his own importance to a degree, Berg strove toregain lost ground.

  "Good work, my boy," he said, condescendingly, and with an air ofdismissing the subject. "But the credibility of a witness's story mustrest with the gentlemen of the jury. I understand all about thosetheories of psy--psychology, as they call them, but I think they are oflittle, if any, use in practice."

  "Oh, I wouldn't say that," said Judge Hoyt. "I find them veryinteresting. Do _you_ always see things clearly, Terence?"

  "It isn't seeing clearly," said Fibsy, with an earnest face, "it's seein'true. Now, f'r instance, Mr. Coroner, is the number for six o'clock, onyour watch, a figger or a VI?"

  "I cannot allow this child's play," and Mr. Berg looked decidedly angry.

  "But that's rather a good one," said Judge Hoyt. "Come, now, Berg, do youknow which it is?"

  "Certainly I do," Berg snapped out. "It's the Roman letters, VI."

  "Yessir?" said Fibsy, eagerly. "An' are they right side up, or upsidedown, as you hold Twelve at the top?"

  Berg thought a moment. "As I hold Twelve at the top, they're upside down,of course. All the numbers have their base toward the centre of thedial."

  "Then the Six on your watch is VI, with the tops of the letters next therim of the watch?"

  "It is," said Berg, adding sneeringly, "would you like to see it?"

  "Yessir," and Fibsy darted forward.

  The coroner snapped his watch open, and after a brief glance, the boygave a quick little wag of his head, and went back to his seat without aword.

  But the man flushed a fiery red, and his pompous air deserted him.

  "Were you right, Berg?" asked Judge Hoyt. "Come now, own up?"

  "A very natural error," mumbled the coroner, and then Detective Grootpounced on him, demanding to see his watch.

  "Why, there's no six on it at all!" he cried and then gave anuncontrollable guffaw. "There's only a round place with the second handinto it!"

  "This tomfoolery must be stopped," began the coroner, but he had to pausein his speech until the ripple of merriment had subsided and the jury hadrealized afresh the seriousness of their purpose.

  "Hold on Berg, that's a fairly good one on a coroner," said Judge Hoyt, alittle severely. "Have you looked at that watch for years and didn't knowthere was no six on it?"

  "I s'pose I have. I never thought about it."

  "It does show the unreliability of testimony intended to be truthful,"and Hoyt spoke thoughtfully. "Terence, how did you know Mr. Berg's watchhad a second hand instead of the six numeral?"

  "I didn't know a thing about it. But I wanted to see if _he_ did. Itmight of been a six upside down fer all o' me, but most watches hassecond hands there and most people don't know it. I got it out of a book.People don't see true. They think a watch has gotter _say_ six o'clock,they don't remember it might mean it but not say it."

  Again Hoyt gave the boy a look of appreciation. "Keen-witted," he said tohimself. "Ought to make his mark." And then he glanced back to thediscomfited coroner.
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