Initials Only [30]
better guarded, gave unmistakable signs of secret wavering, he slowly changed his mind and, ranging himself with the detective, waited for the word or words which should explain this situation and render intelligible the triumph gradually becoming visible in the young detective's eyes.
But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He might witness and hear, but it was long before he understood.
"Brotherson?" repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to the breaking-point. "Why do you call me that?"
"Because it is your name."
"You called me Dunn a minute ago."
"That is true."
"Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?"
"Because you spoke under the name of Dunn at the meeting to-night, and if I don't mistake, that is the name by which you are known here."
"And you? By what name are you known?"
"It is late to ask, isn't it? But I'm willing to speak it now, and I might not have been so a little earlier in our conversation. I am Detective Sweetwater of the New York Department of Police, and my errand here is a very simple one. Some letters signed by you have been found among the papers of the lady whose mysterious death at the hotel Clermont is just now occupying the attention of the New York authorities. If you have any information to give which will in any way explain that death, your presence will be welcome at Coroner Heath's office in New York. If you have not, your presence will still be welcome. At all events, I was told to bring you. You will be on hand to accompany me in the morning, I am quite sure, pardoning the unconventional means I have taken to make sure of my man?"
The humour with which this was said seemed to rob it of anything like attack, and Mr. Brotherson, as we shall hereafter call him, smiled with an odd acceptance of the same, as he responded:
"I will go before the police certainly. I haven't much to tell, but what I have is at their service. It will not help you, but I have no secrets. What are you doing?"
He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement.
"I wanted to see if it was still snowing," explained the detective, with a smile, which seemed to strike the other like a blow. "If it was a liberty, please pardon it."
Mr. Brotherson drew back. The cold air of self possession which he now assumed, presented such a contrast to the unwarranted heat of the moment before that George wondered greatly over it, and later, when he recapitulated to me the whole story of this night, it was this incident of the lifted shade, together with the emotion it had caused, which he acknowledged as being for him the most inexplicable event of the evening and the one he was most anxious to hear explained.
As this ends our connection with this affair, I will bid you my personal farewell. I have often wished that circumstances had made it possible for me to accompany you through the remaining intricacies of this remarkable case.
But you will not lack a suitable guide.
BOOK II
AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER
X
A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
At an early hour the next morning, Sweetwater stood before the coroner's desk, urging a plea he feared to hear refused. He wished to be present at the interview soon to be held with Mr. Brotherson, and he had no good reason to advance why such a privilege should be allotted him.
It's not curiosity," said he. "There's a question I hope to see settled. I can't communicate it - you would laugh at me; but it's an important one, a very important one, and I beg that you will let me sit in one of the corners and hear what he says. I won't bother and I'll be very still, so still that he'll hardly notice me. Do grant me this favour, sir.
The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyed him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow expected.
"You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort those papers over there, you may."
"Thank you. I don't
But he was not destined to have his curiosity satisfied so far. He might witness and hear, but it was long before he understood.
"Brotherson?" repeated their host, after the silence had lasted to the breaking-point. "Why do you call me that?"
"Because it is your name."
"You called me Dunn a minute ago."
"That is true."
"Why Dunn if Brotherson is my name?"
"Because you spoke under the name of Dunn at the meeting to-night, and if I don't mistake, that is the name by which you are known here."
"And you? By what name are you known?"
"It is late to ask, isn't it? But I'm willing to speak it now, and I might not have been so a little earlier in our conversation. I am Detective Sweetwater of the New York Department of Police, and my errand here is a very simple one. Some letters signed by you have been found among the papers of the lady whose mysterious death at the hotel Clermont is just now occupying the attention of the New York authorities. If you have any information to give which will in any way explain that death, your presence will be welcome at Coroner Heath's office in New York. If you have not, your presence will still be welcome. At all events, I was told to bring you. You will be on hand to accompany me in the morning, I am quite sure, pardoning the unconventional means I have taken to make sure of my man?"
The humour with which this was said seemed to rob it of anything like attack, and Mr. Brotherson, as we shall hereafter call him, smiled with an odd acceptance of the same, as he responded:
"I will go before the police certainly. I haven't much to tell, but what I have is at their service. It will not help you, but I have no secrets. What are you doing?"
He bounded towards Sweetwater, who had simply stepped to the window, lifted the shade and looked across at the opposing tenement.
"I wanted to see if it was still snowing," explained the detective, with a smile, which seemed to strike the other like a blow. "If it was a liberty, please pardon it."
Mr. Brotherson drew back. The cold air of self possession which he now assumed, presented such a contrast to the unwarranted heat of the moment before that George wondered greatly over it, and later, when he recapitulated to me the whole story of this night, it was this incident of the lifted shade, together with the emotion it had caused, which he acknowledged as being for him the most inexplicable event of the evening and the one he was most anxious to hear explained.
As this ends our connection with this affair, I will bid you my personal farewell. I have often wished that circumstances had made it possible for me to accompany you through the remaining intricacies of this remarkable case.
But you will not lack a suitable guide.
BOOK II
AS SEEN BY DETECTIVE SWEETWATER
X
A DIFFERENCE OF OPINION
At an early hour the next morning, Sweetwater stood before the coroner's desk, urging a plea he feared to hear refused. He wished to be present at the interview soon to be held with Mr. Brotherson, and he had no good reason to advance why such a privilege should be allotted him.
It's not curiosity," said he. "There's a question I hope to see settled. I can't communicate it - you would laugh at me; but it's an important one, a very important one, and I beg that you will let me sit in one of the corners and hear what he says. I won't bother and I'll be very still, so still that he'll hardly notice me. Do grant me this favour, sir.
The coroner, who had had some little experience with this man, surveyed him with a smile less forbidding than the poor fellow expected.
"You seem to lay great store by it," said he; "if you want to sort those papers over there, you may."
"Thank you. I don't