"Did you hear any one break into the house when you were prowling around, Grimes?" he asked.

"No, sir."

The detective turned to Colonel McIntyre. "After finding Grimes did you search the house?" he inquired.

"Yes. The patrolman, O'Ryan, and my new footman, Murray, went with me through the entire house, and we found all doors and windows to the front and rear of the house securely locked," responded McIntyre; "except the window of the reception room on the ground floor. That was closed but unlatched."

Kent wondered if the grimace which twisted the butler's face was meant for a smile.

"That there window was locked when I went to bed," Grimes stated with slow distinctness. "And I was the last person in this house to go to my room."

McIntyre started to speak when Ferguson stopped him.

"Just let me handle this case," he said persuasively. "You have called in the police," and as McIntyre commenced some uncomplimentary remark, he added with sternness. "Don't interfere, sir. Now, Grimes, your statements imply one of two things--some member of the household either went downstairs after you had retired, and opened the window in the reception room to admit the person who afterwards attacked you in the library, or"--Ferguson paused significantly, "some member of this household knocked you senseless in the library. Which was it?"

There was a tense silence. McIntyre, by an obvious effort, refrained from speech as they waited for Grimes' answer.

"I dunno who hit me." Grimes avoided looking at the three men. "But some one did, and that window in the reception room was locked when I went upstairs to my bedroom after every one had retired. I'm telling you G.o.d's truth, sir."

McIntyre eyed him in wrathful silence, then turned to his companions.

"The blow has knocked Grimes silly," he commented. "There is certainly no motive for any of us to attack Grimes, nor has any trace of a weapon been found such as must have been used against Grimes. O'Ryan and I looked particularly for it, after removing Grimes from the Venetian casket, where my daughter Helen, Mrs. Brewster and I discovered him lying unconscious."

"What's this Venetian casket like?" asked Ferguson before Kent could question McIntyre.

"It is a fine sample of carving of the Middle Ages," replied McIntyre.

"I purchased the pair when in Venice years ago. They are over six feet in length, about three feet wide, and rest on a carved base. There is a door at the end through which it was customary in the Middle Ages to slide the body, after embalming, for the funeral ceremonies, after which the body was removed, placed in another casket and buried. There is a square opening or peep hole on the top of the casket through which you can look at the body; a cleverly concealed door covers this opening. In fact," added McIntyre, "the door at the end is not at first discernible, and is hard to open, unless one has the knack of doing so."

"Hum! It looks as if whoever put Grimes inside the casket was familiar with it," remarked Ferguson dryly, and McIntyre bit his lip. "Guess I'll go and take a look at the casket. I'll come back, Grimes."

Kent rose with the others and started to follow them to the door, but Grimes beckoned him to approach the bed. The butler waited until he heard McIntyre's heavy tread and the lighter footfall of the detective recede down the hall before speaking.

"I was only going to say, sir," he whispered as Kent, at a sign from him, stooped over the bed, "I got a box of aconitine pills for Mrs.

Brewster on Sunday--the stuff that poisoned Mr. Turnbull," he paused to explain.

"Yes, go on," urged Kent, catching the man's excitement. "You gave it to Mrs. Brewster--"

"No, sir; I didn't; I left the box on the hall table," Grimes cleared his throat nervously. "I dunno who picked up that box o' poison, Mr.

Kent; so help me G.o.d, I dunno!"

Kent thought rapidly. "Have you told any one of this?" he asked.

Grimes nodded. "Only one person," he admitted. "I spoke to Miss Barbara last night as she was going to bed." Grimes laid a hot hand on Kent's and glanced fearfully around the room. "Bend nearer, sir; I don't want none other to hear me. Just before I got that knockout blow in the library last night, I heard the swish o' skirts--and Miss Barbara was the only living person who knew I knew about the poison."

Kent stared in stupefaction at the butler. He was aroused by a cold voice from the doorway.

"We are waiting for you, Kent," and Colonel McIntyre stood aside to let him pa.s.s from the room ahead of him, then without a backward glance at the injured butler, he closed and locked the bedroom door.

CHAPTER XVIII. THE FATAL PERIOD

As Kent walked into the library he found Colonel McIntyre by his side; the latter's even breathing gave no indication of the haste he had made down the staircase to catch up with Kent.

Detective Ferguson hardly noted their arrival, his attention being given wholly to the examination of the Venetian casket which had played such an important part in the drama of the night before. The casket and its companion piece stood on either side of the room near a window recess.

The long straight shape of the high boxes on their graceful base gave no indication of the use to which they had been put in ancient days, but made attractive as well as unique pieces of furniture.

Kent crossed the library and, after looking inside the casket, examined the exterior with care.

"Don't touch that crest," cautioned Ferguson, observing that Kent's glance remained focused on the blood-stained, raised letter "B" and the carving back of it. "In fact, don't touch any part of the casket, I'm trying to get finger prints."

Kent barely heard the warning as he turned to McIntyre.

"Haven't I seen that letter 'B' design on your stationery, Colonel?" he asked.

"Barbara uses it," was the reply. "She fancied the antique lettering, and copied the 'B' for the engraver; she is handy with her pen, you know."

"Did she wish the 'B' for a seal?" inquired Kent.

"Yes, she had a seal made like it also." McIntyre moved closer to the casket. "Found anything, Ferguson?"

The detective withdrew his head from the opening at the end of the casket, and regarded the furniture vexedly.

"Not a thing," he acknowledged. "Except I am convinced that it required dexterity to slip Grimes inside the casket. The butler is small and slight, but he must have been unconscious from that tap on the forehead and, therefore, a dead weight. Whoever picked him up must have been some athlete, and"--running his eyes up and down Colonel McIntyre's well-knit, erect frame--"pretty familiar with the workings of this casket."

"Pooh! It's not so difficult a feat," McIntyre shrugged his shoulders disdainfully. "My daughters, as children, used to play hide and seek inside the casket with each new governess."

Ferguson stepped forward briskly. "Mr. Kent, let me see if I can lift you inside the casket; make yourself limp--that's it!" as Kent, entering into the investigation heart and soul, relaxed his muscles and fell back against the detective.

A moment later he was swung upward and pushed head-first inside the casket and the door closed. The air, though close, was not unpleasant and Kent, his eyes growing gradually accustomed to the dark interior, tried to discover the trap door at the top of the box but without success. Putting out his hands he felt along the top. The height of the casket did not permit him to sit up, so he was obliged to slide his body down toward his feet to feel along the sides of the casket. This maneuver soon brought his knees in violent contact with the top, and at the sound Ferguson opened the door and a.s.sisted him out.

"Had enough of it?" he asked, viewing Kent's reddened cheeks with faint amus.e.m.e.nt. "I wonder if Grimes could breathe in there for any lengthy period. If so, it would help establish the time which elapsed between his being incarcerated and your finding him, Colonel."

"How so?" demanded McIntyre.

"Well, if he couldn't get air and you hadn't discovered him at once, he'd have died," explained Ferguson. "If you did find him immediately the person who knocked him down must have made a lightning escape."

"Air does get in the casket in some way," broke in Kent. "It wasn't so bad inside. Colonel McIntyre," Kent stopped a moment to remove a piece of red sealing wax clinging to the cuff of his suit. It had not been there when he entered the casket. Kent dropped the wax in his vest pocket as he again addressed his host. "Who first discovered Grimes in the casket?"

"Mrs. Brewster."

"And what was Mrs. Brewster doing in the library at that hour?" glancing keenly at McIntyre as he put the question.

"She could not sleep and came down for a book," explained the Colonel.

Ferguson, who had walked several times around the library, looking behind first one and then the other of the seven doors, paused to ask:

"What attracted Mrs. Brewster's attention to the casket?"