"I forgot that I was under arrest."

I did n't trouble to define his position. At best it was at that instant an anomalous one; so far as I knew there were no grounds upon which to hold him at all; and while I would have hesitated to say that he was actually in custody, at the same time it is also true that I would not have permitted him to walk out of the house and away, had he desired to do so.

"Now, Mr. Burke," I went on, "tell me just what you know about this matter. Don't slur details; take your time."

"I know very little, Mr. Swift."

"Let's have it, nevertheless."

"About one o'clock last night I had just completed sorting some papers in my room. They had been in a file-case so long that they were very dusty; so when I was through I went to the bath-room--one door from mine--to wash my hands, and while I was so engaged I was startled by a crash, as of some one falling heavily outside.

"I picked up my candle, and looked into the hall. At first I saw nothing, and everything was perfectly quiet; but in a moment I noticed that an _etagere_, which had always stood at the head of the stairs, was tipped forward against the banisters, and at the same time I heard Mr. Maillot moving about in his room. I was much perplexed to account for such a disturbance at that hour of the night, and for a time I stood motionless, waiting to see what would occur next. I admit that I was even somewhat frightened; but as nothing else happened, I crossed over to Mr. Maillot's door--directly opposite my own--and rapped.

"He threw it open at once. He was holding a hand to his right eye, and glared at me with the uncovered eye. He evidently had slipped hastily into his clothes; his candle was lighted, and I noticed that his hands and face were wet, as if he too had been washing."

"It strikes me that there was an unusual amount of hand-washing," I here observed, "considering the hour of night. Had the household retired?"

"Why--yes, sir--we were supposed to have done so. But Mr. Maillot at once explained why his hands were wet. As he threw open the door, which he did in an angry manner, he asked me what the devil was the matter. I replied that I did n't know. He then stated that he thought the roof had caved in; that the tumult had awakened him, and that in springing out of bed he had nearly knocked an eye out by colliding with some piece of furniture. The pain was for a moment so intense, he said, that he had forgotten all about the noise; so he had lighted a candle and bathed the injured eye. It was already beginning to swell and show signs of discoloration. On my remarking that it was strange the noise hadn't roused Mr. Page, Mr. Maillot at once seized his candle and preceded me into the hall. He was the first to find Mr. Page's body.

"So far as we could determine, he was quite dead. Mr. Maillot at once warned me not to molest anything--he 's a lawyer, I believe--and we agreed that I should notify the police while he remained to guard the house."

Such was Burke's story of the midnight tragedy. Further questioning elicited the a.s.sertion that he was utterly unable to account for Maillot's presence in the house; that he had never seen him before, and that he was sure the young man's call had been unexpected by Mr. Page, as the latter had, the last thing the previous evening at his office, instructed Burke to procure a number of specified papers from the file-case, and bring them to the house after supper.

Burke believed it to have been his employer's intention to go through these doc.u.ments with him, for the purpose of selecting certain ones which had to do with a contemplated business trip to Duluth; but Maillot had arrived about seven o'clock, and he and Mr. Page had at once repaired to the library, where they remained until after eleven o'clock.

Burke had busied himself with other matters until convinced that, as his employer had doubtless given over the Duluth journey, his services would not be required; whereupon he had retired to his own room.

Such minor details were added: the only servant was a woman who came to the house of mornings, and departed before the master went down-town; there was no telephone in the house; and the millionaire's "eccentricities" included, among other things, a preference for candles over any other means of artificial illumination, and a strong disinclination to consume any more fuel than was absolutely necessary.

Learning that the woman servant was at that very moment in the house, I speedily saw to it that a rousing fire was kindled upon every hearth and in every stove; nor were they allowed to die out, as long as I remained beneath the roof. Felix Page would have no further use for his coal and kindling.

When Burke returned from discharging this errand, I continued my questioning.

"So it had been Mr. Page's intention to go to Duluth last night, eh?

What for?"

"I don't know. About vessels or his wheat shipments, I suppose; something too important to entrust to the mail or telegraph."

"Did the coming of Mr. Maillot upset his plans?"

"I can't imagine what else caused him to change his mind at the last minute; the journey must have been unusually important to take him away from the city at this time."

Then Maillot's mission could not have been without exceptional weight, I reflected. And unless I was much mistaken, the deferred journey had seriously disarranged some material plan for Mr. Burke. I had nothing more to say, however, for the present.

I sent Burke back to the custody of Callahan and O'Brien, to await the completion of my investigation; for, until I became reasonably sure that I held in my hand all the available facts, it would be rank carelessness on my part to send the whilom secretary about his business.

I would have been hard put to it to interpret the impression which Alexander Burke had made upon my mind, if Stodger had demanded my opinion at that moment. As his round, cherubic face emerged between the curtains, I turned to him with considerable curiosity.

"Told it word for word as he did to me," was my companion's comment.

"Could n't have told it better if it had been a piece learnt by heart."

"Oh, he could n't, eh?" observed I, thoughtfully, leading the way to the landing.

But I could not permit myself to theorize at this stage--an indulgence which, when premature, inevitably colors one's opinions, and prejudices all attempts at clear, logical reasoning.

CHAPTER III

SOME DISCOVERIES

But I was not yet permitted to begin my examination of the body and its immediate surroundings. I had no sooner arrived at the landing than I heard a man's voice, somewhere above in the second story, speaking with a note of determination that demanded some sort of recognition from the person addressed. The clear, ringing, resolute tone made me involuntarily pause and listen.

"Where 's your headquarters man?" the voice was irately demanding. "I want to see him, d' ye hear? You blithering idiot, I 'm going down those stairs; if you want to rough it, just try to stop me."

Another voice was raised in expostulation. Stodger, at my elbow, suddenly chuckled.

"That's him!" he whispered, with an unaccountable excitement. "That's Maillot!"

"He must be a tartar," I observed.

At that instant a stalwart young man, very angry and with one discolored eye that lent him an uncommonly truculent appearance, looked down on us from the upper hall; then he deliberately ignored the arguing policeman, strode to the head of the stairs and descended to the landing.

"It's all right, Callahan," said Stodger to the discomfited blue-coat.

The young man halted before us.

"a.s.s!" he growled, staring hard at me.

Stodger made the epithet exclusively mine with a bow and a broad grin.

Instantly the young fellow flushed and stammered an apology.

"I didn't mean either of you chaps," he explained, in embarra.s.sment.

"It's that chuckle-headed hod-carrier in a blue uniform. If he gives me any more of his cheek, I 'll take his club from him and hand him a wallop over the head with it--dashed if I don't."

He looked eminently capable of doing it, too. He paused, his look resting upon me with an interrogation.

"Are you in authority here?" he bluntly demanded.

"I suppose so. Are you Mr. Maillot?"

"I am. And I 'd like to know how much longer I 'll have to stay in this beastly cold-storage warehouse. I 'm plenty tired of it right now, if you want to know."

I smiled at the resolute young fellow; there was something decidedly likable in his frank and handsome countenance, and his blunt, intense manner.

"It all depends, Mr. Maillot. You and Mr. Burke are the only ones who can help me to some sort of solution of this crime--if crime it is; I take it for granted that you are willing to do what you can."