The Greatest Works of Anna Katharine Green. Анна Грин

was closed, then he would acknowledge that if she had no fortune and no connections, she had at least a plentiful supply of wit. Upon which he remarked: ‘A poor qualification when it verges upon folly!’ which seemed to close the conversation, for I heard no more till the sound of her skirts rustling past my door assured me she had carried her point and was leaving the house. But this was not done without great discomfiture to her husband, if one may judge from the few brief but emphatic words that escaped him before he closed his own door and followed her down the hall.”

      “Do you remember those words?”

      “They were swear words, sir; I am sorry to say it, but he certainly cursed her and his own folly. Yet I always thought he loved her.”

      “Did you see her after she passed your door?”

      “Yes, sir, on the walk outside.”

      “Was she then on the way to the train?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      “Carrying the bag of which you have spoken?”

      “Yes, sir; another proof of the state of feeling between them, for he was very considerate in his treatment of ladies, and I never saw him do anything ungallant before.”

      “You say you watched her as she went down the walk?”

      “Yes, sir; it is human nature, sir; I have no other excuse to offer.”

      It was an apology I myself might have made. I conceived a liking for this homely matter-of-fact woman.

      “Did you note her dress?”

      “Yes, sir; that is human nature also, or, rather, woman’s nature.”

      “Particularly, madam; so that you can describe it to the jury before you?”

      “I think so.”

      “Will you, then, be good enough to tell us what sort of a dress Mrs. Van Burnam wore when she left your house for the city?”

      “It was a black and white plaid silk, very rich——”

      Why, what did this mean? We had all expected a very different description.

      “It was made fashionably, and the sleeves—well, it is impossible to describe the sleeves. She wore no wrap, which seemed foolish to me, for we have very sudden changes sometimes in September.”

      “A plaid dress! And did you notice her hat?”

      “O, I have seen the hat often. It was of every conceivable color. It would have been called bad taste at one time, but now-a-days——”

      The pause was significant. More than one man in the room chuckled, but the women kept a discreet silence.

      “Would you know that hat if you saw it?”

      “I should think I would!”

      The emphasis was that of a countrywoman, and amused some people notwithstanding the melodious tone in which it was uttered. But it did not amuse me; my thoughts had flown to the hat which Mr. Gryce had found in the third room of Mr. Van Burnam’s house, and which was of every color of the rainbow.

      The Coroner asked two other questions, one in regard to the gloves worn by Mrs. Van Burnam, and the other in regard to her shoes. To the first, Miss Ferguson replied that she did not notice her gloves, and to the other, that Mrs. Van Burnam was very fashionable, and as pointed shoes were the fashion, in cities at least, she probably wore pointed shoes.

      The discovery that Mrs. Van Burnam had been differently dressed on that day from the young woman found dead in the Van Burnam parlors, had acted as a shock upon most of the spectators. They were just beginning to recover from it when Miss Ferguson sat down. The Coroner was the only one who had not seemed at a loss. Why, we were soon destined to know.

Chapter XI.

       The Order Clerk

       Table of Contents

      A lady well known in New York society was the next person summoned. She was a friend of the Van Burnam family, and had known Howard from childhood. She had not liked his marriage; indeed, she rather participated in the family feeling against it, but when young Mrs. Van Burnam came to her house on the preceding Monday, and begged the privilege of remaining with her for one night, she had not had the heart to refuse her. Mrs. Van Burnam had therefore slept in her house on Monday night.

      Questioned in regard to that lady’s appearance and manner, she answered that her guest was unnaturally cheerful, laughing much and showing a great vivacity; that she gave no reason for her good spirits, nor did she mention her own affairs in any way,—rather took pains not to do so.

      “How long did she stay?”

      “Till the next morning.”

      “And how was she dressed?”

      “Just as Miss Ferguson has described.”

      “Did she bring her hand-bag to your house?”

      “Yes, and left it there. We found it in her room after she was gone.”

      “Indeed! And how do you account for that?”

      “She was preoccupied. I saw it in her cheerfulness, which was forced and not always well timed.”

      “And where is that bag now?”

      “Mr. Van Burnam has it. We kept it for a day and as she did not call for it, sent it down to the office on Wednesday morning.”

      “Before you had heard of the murder?”

      “O yes, before I had heard anything about the murder.”

      “As she was your guest, you probably accompanied her to the door?”

      “I did, sir.”

      “Did you notice her hands? Can you say what was the color of her gloves?”

      “I do not think she wore any gloves on leaving; it was very warm, and she held them in her hand. I remembered this, for I noticed the sparkle of her rings as she turned to say good-bye.”

      “Ah, you saw her rings!”

      “Distinctly.”

      “So that when she left you she was dressed in a black and white plaid silk, had a large hat covered with flowers on her head, and wore rings?”

      “Yes, sir.”

      And with these words ringing in the ears of the jury, the witness sat down.

      What was coming? Something important, or the Coroner would not look so satisfied, or the faces of the officials about him so expectant. I waited with great but subdued eagerness for the testimony of the next witness, who was a young man by the name of Callahan.

      I don’t like young men in general. They are either over-suave and polite, as if they condescended to remember that you are elderly and that it is their duty to make you forget it, or else they are pert and shallow and disgust you with their egotism. But this young man looked sensible and business-like, and I took to him at once, though what connection he could have with this affair I could not imagine.

      His first words, however, settled all questions as to his personality: He was the order clerk at Altman’s.

      As he acknowledged this, I seemed to have some faint premonition of what was coming. Perhaps I had not been without some vague idea of the truth ever since I had put my mind to work on this matter; perhaps my wits only received their real spur then; but certainly I knew what he was going to say as soon as he opened his lips, which gave me quite a good opinion of myself, whether rightfully or not, I leave you to judge.

      His evidence was short, but very much to the point. On the seventeenth