There's no such thing as direct, undistorted evidence! Moore didn't see the pencil in Sir Herbert's fingers at all. He saw it lying on the floor beside the dead man's hand,--or, he says he did."

"Good Heavens! You don't suspect Moore!" cried Richard. "Why, he's the best chap going!"

"I don't say he isn't, and I don't say I suspect him, but I want you people to understand that he _might_ have done it all,--might have committed the murder and might have written the scribbled paper to turn suspicion away from himself. As for the handwriting, that trembling, shaky scrawl can't be identified with anybody's ordinary writing."

"Oh, I can't think it," Richard objected. "Why, Bob Moore couldn't do such a thing, and, besides, what would be his motive?"

"We haven't come to motive yet. We're finding out who had opportunity."

"Any pa.s.ser-by had that," Miss Prall said, positively; "while Moore was up in the elevator, what was to prevent any pedestrian going by from stepping in and killing Sir Herbert?"

"Nothing; but there are few pedestrians at two o'clock in the morning, and fewer still who have a reason for a murder."

"Oh, it must have been prearranged," said Bates, thoughtfully. "There's not the slightest doubt," he went on hurriedly, "that whoever killed him,--man, woman or child!--came in from the street to do the deed."

"Why, of course," agreed Miss Prall; "where else could they have come from? n.o.body in the house would do it!"

"No; I suppose not," admitted Corson. "Well, then, ma'am, we have the a.s.sa.s.sin coming in from the street, while Moore is upstairs. And, according to the victim's own statement, the a.s.sa.s.sin was feminine and there were two, at least, of them. For I've studied that paper, and it says, clearly, 'women did this.' Want to see it?" his hand went toward his breast pocket.

"No,--oh, no," and Miss Prall shuddered.

"Well, supposing a couple of women came in, having, we'll say, watched their chance, what more likely than that it was two chickens,--beg pardon, ma'am, that means gay young ladies,--with whom Sir Herbert had been dining? Why, like as not they came in with him. They didn't hang round outside waiting for him. You see, they'd been with him, and he had in some way offended them, let us say, and they wanted to kill him----"

"Seems to me you're drawing a long bow," and Bates almost smiled at the mental picture of two gay chorus girls committing the gruesome deed.

Corson spoke seriously. "No, Mr Bates, I'm not. If we take this written paper at its face value, and I don't know why we shouldn't, it means that women killed that man. And _if_ women, who more likely than the chorus girls? Unless you people up here can suggest some other women,--some, any women in the man's private life who wished to do him harm or who wished him out of the way. That's why I'm here, to learn anything and all things you may know that might aid me in a search for the right women--the women who really killed him. Chorus girls are wholly supposit.i.tious. But the real women, the women who _are_ the criminals, must and shall be found!"

CHAPTER VI

The Little Dinner

The next morning at eight o'clock, Morton, the day doorman, came on duty.

Corson eagerly began at once to question him, and he told the story of Sir Herbert Binney's departure from the house, but there his information ended.

"All I know is, Mr Binney went away from here in a taxicab, 'long about half-past six, I think it was. And he went to the Hotel Magnifique,--at least, that's what he told the driver. And that's the last I saw of him.

But his man, Peters, is due any minute,--maybe he'll know more."

"Peters? A valet?"

"Yes, and general factotum. He comes every morning at eight, and takes care of his boss."

And in a few moments Peters arrived. His shocked astonishment at the news was too patently real to give the slightest grounds of suspicion that he had any knowledge of it before his arrival.

"Poor old duffer!" he said, earnestly, "he was awful fond of life. Now, who would kill him, I'd like to know!"

"That's what we all want to know, Peters," said Corson. "Come, I'll go up to his rooms with you, and we can look things over."

Up they went, and the detective looked about the apartment of the dead man with interest. There were but two rooms, a bedroom and bath and a good-sized sitting-room. The furniture was the usual type of hotel appointments and there were so few individual belongings that the place gave small indication of the habits or tastes of its late occupant.

"Nothing of a sybarite," commented Corson, glancing at the few and simple toilet appurtenances.

"No," returned Peters, "but he was accustomed to finer living in his English home. He's no brag, but I gathered that from things he let drop now and then. But when he was on a business trip, he didn't seem to care how things were. He was a good dresser, but not much for little comforts or luxuries."

"What about his friendships with ladies?"

"Aha, that was his strong point! As a ladies' man he was there with the goods! He liked 'em all,--from chorus girls to d.u.c.h.esses,--and he knew English ladies of high life, I can tell you."

"But over here he preferred the chorus girls?"

"I don't say he preferred them. He went out a lot to fine homes and hobn.o.bbed with some big people. But he was in his gayest mood when he was getting off for a frolic with the girls."

"As he was last night?"

"Yes; he didn't say much about it, but he did tell me that he was to take a couple of peaches to dinner, and afterwards see them in a Review or something they dance in."

"Can't you be more definite? Don't you know what revue? Or the girls'

names?"

"No; I've no idea. Sir Herbert didn't mention any names, and of course I didn't ask him anything."

"Then, I'll have to go to the Magnifique to get on with this. First, I'll take a look around here."

But a careful investigation of the late Sir Herbert's papers and personal effects cast no light on the mystery of his death. There were several photographs of young women, quite likely theatrical people, but none had a signature. However, Corson took these in charge as well as some few notes and letters that seemed significant of friendships with women.

"As young Bates is, I believe, the heir to Sir Herbert's estate, I suppose he'll take charge of these rooms, but, meanwhile, I'll lock up as I want to go downstairs again now. You're out of a job, my man!"

"Yes,--why, so I am! It's the first I've realized that!"

"Maybe Mr Bates will keep you on."

"Not he! Those young chaps don't want valets. He doesn't, anyhow. No, I'll be looking for a new berth. Oh, it'll be easy enough found, but I liked Sir Herbert mighty well. He was a queer d.i.c.k, but a kind and easy-going man to live with."

"And he never chatted with you about his young lady friends?"

"Never. He was a reserved sort, as far as his own affairs were concerned. You could go just so far and no farther with Sir Herbert Binney."

"Well, he left a paper stating that his death was brought about by women."

"He did? Why, how could that be?"

"That's what I've got to find out. He tried to write a message, and died in the very act. But he wrote clearly and distinctly the words, 'Women did this,' and we've got to believe it."

"Oh, yes; if it was the other way, now, if women did it, he might try to put it up to a man, to shield the girls. But if he wrote that, it's so, of course. Must have been some of those skylarking kids, and yet, it ain't likely, is it now? Some vamp, I should say."