the filigree ball-第4部分

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like　…？〃

〃Like！〃　I　interrupted；　〃it　is　Veronica　Moore　herself；　the　owner　of
this　house　and　she　who　was　married　here　two　weeks　since　to　Mr。　Jeffrey。
Evidently　her　reason　was　unseated　by　the　tragedy　which　threw　so　deep
a　gloom　over　her　wedding。〃




III

I　REMAIN

Not　for　an　instant　did　I　doubt　the　correctness　of　this　identification。
All　the　pictures　I　had　seen　of　this　well…known　society　belle　had
been　marked　by　an　individuality　of　expression　which　fixed　her　face
in　the　memory　and　which　I　now　saw　repeated　in　the　lifeless　features
before　me。

Greatly　startled　by　the　discovery；　but　quite　convinced　that　this　was
but　the　dreadful　sequel　of　an　already　sufficiently　dark　tragedy；　I
proceeded　to　take　such　steps　as　are　common　in　these　cases。　　Having
sent　the　too…willing　Hibbard　to　notify　headquarters；　I　was　on　the
point　of　making　a　memorandum　of　such　details　as　seemed　important；
when　my　lantern　suddenly　went　out；　leaving　me　in　total　darkness。

This　was　far　from　pleasant；　but　the　effect　it　produced　upon　my　mind
was　not　without　its　result。　　For　no　sooner　did　I　find　myself　alone
and　in　the　unrelieved　darkness　of　this　grave…like　room；　than　I　became
convinced　that　no　woman；　however　frenzied；　would　make　her　plunge
into　an　unknown　existence　from　the　midst　of　a　darkness　only　too
suggestive　of　the　tomb　to　which　she　was　hastening。　　It　was　not　in
nature；　not　in　woman's　nature；　at　all　events。　　Either　she　had
committed　the　final　act　before　such　daylight　as　could　filter　through
the　shutters　of　this　closed…up　room　had　quite　disappeared；　…　an
hypothesis　instantly　destroyed　by　the　warmth　which　still　lingered
in　certain　portions　of　her　body；　…　or　else　the　light　which　had　been
burning　when　she　pulled　the　fatal　trigger　had　since　been　carried
elsewhere　or　extinguished。

Recalling　the　uncertain　gleams　which　we　had　seen　flashing　from　one
of　the　upper　windows；　I　was　inclined　to　give　some　credence　to　the
former　theory；　but　was　disposed　to　be　fair　to　both。　　So　after
relighting　my　lamp；　I　turned　on　one　of　the　gas　cocks　of　the　massive
chandelier　over　my　head　and　applied　a　match。　　The　result　was　just
what　I　anticipated；　no　gas　in　the　pipes。　　A　meter　had　not　been　put
in　for　the　wedding。　　This　the　papers　had　repeatedly　stated　in
dwelling　upon　the　garish　effect　of　the　daylight　on　the　elaborate
costumes　worn　by　the　ladies。　　Candles　had　not　even　been　provided　…
ah；　candles！　　What；　then；　was　it　that　I　saw　glittering　on　a　small
table　at　the　other　end　of　the　room？　　Surely　a　candlestick；　or
rather　an　old…fashioned　candelabrum　with　a　half…burned　candle　in
one　of　its　sockets。　　Hastily　crossing　to　it；　I　felt　of　the
candlewick。　　It　was　quite　stiff　and　hard。　　But　not　considering　this
a　satisfactory　proof　that　it　had　not　been　lately　burning　…　the　tip
of　a　wick　soon　dries　after　the　flame　is　blown　out　…　I　took　out　my
penknife　and　attacked　the　wick　at　what　might　be　called　its　root；
whereupon　I　found　that　where　the　threads　had　been　protected　by　the
wax　they　were　comparatively　soft　and　penetrable。　　The　conclusion　was
obvious。　　True　to　my　instinct　in　this　matter　the　woman　had　not
lifted　her　weapon　in　darkness；　this　candle　had　been　burning。　　But
here　my　thoughts　received　a　fresh　shock。　　If　burning；　then　by　whom
had　it　since　been　blown　out？　　Not　by　her；　her　wound　was　too　fatally
sure　for　that。　　The　steps　taken　between　the　table　where　the
candelabrum　stood　and　the　place　where　she　lay；　were　taken；　if　taken
at　all　by　her；　before　that　shot　was　fired。　　Some　one　else　…　some　one
whose　breath　still　lingered　in　the　air　about　me　…　had　extinguished
this　candle…flame　after　she　fell；　and　the　death　I　looked　down　upon
was　not　a　suicide；　but　a　murder。

The　excitement　which　this　discovery　caused　to　tingle　through　my
every　nerve　had　its　birth　in　the　ambitious　feeling　referred　to　in
the　opening　paragraph　of　this　narrative。　　I　believed　that　my
long…sought…for　opportunity　had　come；　that　with　the　start　given　me
by　the　conviction　just　stated；　I　should　be　enabled　to　collect　such
clues　and　establish　such　facts　as　would　lead　to　the　acceptance　of
this　new　theory　instead　of　the　apparent　one　of　suicide　embraced　by
Hibbard　and　about　to　be　promulgated　at　police　headquarters。　　If　so；
what　a　triumph　would　be　mine；　and　what　a　debt　I　should　owe　to　the
crabbed　old　gentleman　whose　seemingly　fantastic　fears　had　first
drawn　me　to　this　place！

Realizing　the　value　of　the　opportunity　afforded　me　by　the　few
minutes　I　was　likely　to　spend　alone　on　this　scene　of　crime；　I
proceeded　to　my　task　with　that　directness　and　method　which　I　had
always　promised　myself　should　characterize　my　first　success　in
detective　work。

First；　then；　for　another　look　at　the　fair　young　victim　herself！
What　a　line　of　misery　on　the　brow！　　What　dark　hollows　disfiguring
cheeks　otherwise　as　delicate　as　the　petals　of　a　rose！　　An　interesting；
if　not　absolutely　beautiful　face；　it　told　me　something　I　could　hardly
put　into　words；　so　that　it　was　like　leaving　a　fascinating　but
unsolved　mystery　when　I　finally　turned　from　it　to　study　the　hands；
each　of　which　presented　a　separate　problem。　　That　offered　by　the
right　wrist　you　already　know　…　the　long　white　ribbon　connecting　it
with　the　discharged　pistol。　　But　the　secret　concealed　by　the　left；
while　less　startling；　was　perhaps　fully　as　significant。　　All　the
rings　were　gone；　even　the　wedding　ring　which　had　been　placed　there
such　a　short　time　before。　　Had　she　been　robbed？　　There　were　no　signs
of　violence　visible　nor　even　such　disturbances　as　usually　follow
despoliation　by　a　criminal's　hand。　　The　boa　of　delicate　black　net
which　encircled　her　neck　rose　fresh　and　intact　to　her　chin；　nor　did
the　heavy　folds　of　her　rich　broadcloth　gown　betray　that　any
disturbance　had　taken　place　in　her　figure　after　its　fall。　　If　a　jewel
had　flashed　at　her　throat；　or　earrings　adorned　her　ears；　they　had
been　removed　by　a　careful；　if　not　a　loving；　hand。　　But　I　was　rather
inclined　to　think　that　she　had　entered　upon　the　scene　of　her　death
without　ornaments；　…　such　severe　simplicity　marked　her　whole　attire。
Her　hat；　which　was　as　plain　and　also　as　elegant　as　the　rest　of　her
clothing；　lay　near　her　on　the　floor。　　It　had　been　taken　off　and
thrown　down；　manifestly　by　an　impatient　hand。　　That　this　hand　was
her　own　was　evident　from　a　small　but　very　significant　fact。　　The
pin　which　had　held　it　to　her　hair　had　been　thrust　again　into　the　hat。
No　hand　but　hers　would　have　taken　this　precaution。　　A　man　would　have
flung　it　aside　just　as　he　would　have　flung　the　hat。

Question：

Did　this　argue　a　natural　expectation　on　her　part　of　resuming　her
hat？　　Or　was　the　action　the　result　of　an　unconscious　habit？

Having　thus　noted　all　that　was　possible　concerning　her　without
infringing　on　the　rights　of　the　coroner；　I　next　proceeded　to　cast
about　for　clues　to　the　identity　of　the　person　whom　I　considered
responsible　for　the　extinguished　candle。　　But　here　a　great
disappointment　awaited　me。　　I　could　find　nothing　expressive　of　a
second　person's　presence　save　a　pile　of　cigar　ashes　scattered
near　the　legs　of　a　common　kitchen　chair　which　stood　face　to　face
with　the　book　shelves　in　that　part　of　the　room　where　the
candelabrum　rested　on　a　small　table。　　But　these　ashes　looked　old；
nor　could　I　detect　any　evidence　of　tobacco　smoke　in　the　general
mustiness　pervading　the　place。　　Was　the　man　who　died　here　a
fortnight　since　accountable　for　these　ashes？　　If　so；　his　unfinished
cigar　must　be　within　sight。　　Should　I　search　for　it？　　No；　for　this
would　take　me　to　the　hearth　and　that　was　quite　too　deadly　a　place
to　be　heedlessly　approached。

Besides；　I　was　not　yet　finished　with　the　spot　where　I　then　stood。
If　I　could　gather　nothing　satisfactory　from　the　ashes；　perhaps　I
could　from　the　chair　or　the　shelves　before　which　it　had　been　placed。
Some　one　with　an　interest　in　books　had　sat　there；　some　one　who
expected　to　spend　sufficient　time　over　these　old　tomes　to　feel　the
need　of　a　chair。　　Had　this　interest　been　a　general　one　or　had　it
centered　in　a　particular　volume？　　I　ran　my　eye　over　the　shelves
within　reach；　possibly　with　an　idea　of　settling　this　question；　and
though　my　knowledge　of　books　is　limited　I　could　see　that　these　were
what　one　might　call　rarities。　　Some　of　them　contained　specimens　of
black　letter；　all　moldy　and　smothered　in　dust；　in　others　I　saw
dates　of　publication　which　placed　them　among　volumes　dear　to　a
collector's　heart。　　But　none　of　them；　so　far　as　I　could　see；　gave
any　evidence　of　having　been　lately　handled；　and　anxious　to　waste　no
time　on　puerile　details；　I　hastily　quitted　my　chair；　and　was
proceeding　to　turn　my　attention　elsewhere；　when　I　noticed　on　an
upper　shelf；　a　book　projecting　slightly　beyond　the　others。　　Instantly
my　foot　was　on　the　chair　and　the　book　in　my　hand。　　Did　I　find　it　of
interest？　　Yes；　but　not　on　account　of　its　contents；　for　they　were
pure　Greek　to　me；　but　because　it　lacked　the　dust　on　its　upper　edge
which　had　marked　every　other　volume　I　had　handled。　　This；　then；　was
what　had　attracted　the　unknown　to　these　shelves；　this　…　let　me　see
if　I　can　remember　its　title　…　Disquisition　upon　Old　Coastlines。
Pshaw！　　I　was　wasting　my　time。　　What　had　such　a　dry　compendium　as
this　to　do　with　the　body　lying　in　its　blood　a　few　steps　behind　me；
or　with　the　hand　which　had　put　out　the　candle　upon　this　dreadful
deed？　　Nothing。　　I　replaced　the　book；　but　not　so　hastily　as　to　push
it　one　inch　beyond　the　position　in　which　I　found　it。　　For；　if　it
had　a　tale　to　tell；　then　was　it　my　business　to　leave　that　tale　to
be　read　by　those　who　understood　books　better　than　I　did。

My　next　move　was　toward　the　little　table　holding　the　candelabrum
with　the　glittering　pendants。　　This　table　was　one　of　a　nest　standing
against　a　near…by　wall。　　Investigation　proved　that　it　had　been
lifted　from　the　others　and　brought　to　its　present　position　within　a
very　short　space　of　time。　　For　the　dust　lying　thick　on　its　top　was
almost　entirely　lacking　from　the　one　which　had　been　nested　under　it。
Neither　had　the　candelabrum　been　standing　there　long；　dust　being
found　under　as　well　as　around　it。　　Had　her　hand　brought　it　there？
Hardly；　if　it　came　from　the　top　of　the　mantel　toward　which　I　now
turned　in　my　course　of　investigation。

I　have　already　mentioned　this　mantel　more　than