I might as well add here what he afterwards stated, that from the position of the table, the chair, and the door behind it, the murderer, in order to satisfy all the conditions imposed by the situation, must have stood upon, or just within, the threshold of the passageway leading into the room beyond. Also, that as the ball was small, and from a rifled barrel, and thus especially liable to deflections while passing through bones and integuments, it seemed to him evident that the victim had made no effort to raise or turn his head when advanced upon by his destroyer; the fearful conclusion being that the footstep was an accustomed one, and the presence of its possessor in the room either known or expected.
The physician’s testimony being ended, the coroner picked up the bullet which had been laid on the table before him, and for a moment rolled it contemplatively between his fingers; then, drawing a pencil from his pocket, hastily scrawled a line or two on a piece of paper and, calling an officer to his side, delivered some command in a low tone. The officer, taking up the slip, looked at it for an instant knowingly, then catching up his hat left the room. Another moment, and the front door closed on him, and a wild halloo from the crowd of urchins without told of his appearance in the street. Sitting where I did, I had a full view of the corner. Looking out, I saw the officer stop there, hail a cab, hastily enter it, and disappear in the direction of Broadway.
‘Confusion now hath made his master-piece;
Most sacrilegious murder hath broke ope
The Lord’s anointed temple, and stolen thence
The life of the building.’
—MACBETH
TURNING my attention back into the room where I was, I found the coroner consulting a memorandum through a very impressive pair of gold eye-glasses.
‘Is the butler here?’ he asked.
Immediately there was a stir among the group of servants in the corner, and an intelligent-looking, though somewhat pompous, Irishman stepped out from their midst and confronted the jury. ‘Ah,’ thought I to myself, as my glance encountered his precise whiskers, steady eye, and respectfully attentive, though by no means humble, expression, ‘here is a model servant, who is likely to prove a model witness.’ And I was not mistaken; Thomas, the butler, was in all respects one in a thousand—and he knew it.
The coroner, upon whom, as upon all others in the room, he seemed to have made the like favourable impression, proceeded without hesitation to interrogate him.
‘Your name, I am told, is Thomas Dougherty?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Well, Thomas, how long have you been employed in your present situation?’
‘It must be a matter of two years now, sir.’
‘You are the person who first discovered the body of Mr Leavenworth?’
‘Yes, sir; I and Mr Harwell.’
‘And who is Mr Harwell?’
‘Mr Harwell is Mr Leavenworth’s private secretary, sir; the one who did his writing.’
‘Very good. Now at what time of the day or night did you make this discovery?’
‘It was early, sir; early this morning, about eight.’
‘And where?’
‘In the library, sir, off Mr Leavenworth’s bedroom. We had forced our way in, feeling anxious about his not coming to breakfast.’
‘You forced your way in; the door was locked, then?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘On the inside?’
‘That I cannot tell; there was no key in the door.’
‘Where was Mr Leavenworth lying when you first found him?’
‘He was not lying, sir. He was seated at the large table in the centre of his room, his back to the bedroom door, leaning forward, his head on his hands.’
‘How was he dressed?’
‘In his dinner suit, sir, just as he came from the table last night.’
‘Were there any evidences in the room that a struggle had taken place?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Any pistol on the floor or table?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Any reason to suppose that robbery had been attempted?’
‘No, sir. Mr Leavenworth’s watch and purse were both in his pockets.’
Being asked to mention who were in the house at the time of the discovery, he replied, ‘The young ladies, Miss Mary Leavenworth and Miss Eleanore, Mr Harwell, Kate the cook, Molly the upstairs girl, and myself.’
‘The usual members of the household?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Now tell me whose duty it is to close up the house at night.’
‘Mine, sir.’
‘Did you secure it as usual, last night?’
‘I did, sir.’
‘Who unfastened it this morning?’
‘I, sir.’
‘How did you find it?’
‘Just as I left it.’
‘What, not a window open nor a door unlocked?’
‘No, sir.’
By this time you could have heard a pin drop. The certainty that the murderer, whoever he was, had not left the house, at least till after it was opened in the morning, seemed to weigh upon all minds. Forewarned as I had been of the fact, I could not but feel a certain degree of emotion at having it thus brought before me; and, moving so as to bring the butler’s face within view, searched it for some secret token that he had spoken thus emphatically in order to cover up some failure of duty on his own part. But it was unmoved in its candour, and sustained the concentrated gaze of all in the room like a rock.
Being now asked when he had last seen Mr Leavenworth alive, he replied, ‘At dinner last night.’
‘He was, however, seen later by some of you?’
‘Yes, sir; Mr Harwell says he saw him as late as half-past ten in the evening.’
‘What room do you occupy in this house?’
‘A little one on the basement floor.’
‘And where do the other members of the household sleep?’
‘Mostly on the third floor, sir; the ladies in the large back rooms, and Mr Harwell in the little one in front. The girls sleep above.’
‘There was no one on the same floor with Mr Leavenworth?’
‘No, sir.’
‘At what hour did you go to bed?’
‘Well, I should say about eleven.’
‘Did you hear any noise in the house either before or after that time, that you remember?’
‘No, sir.’