The Red Seal [24]
locked the compartment, and closed the door of the safe.
"Let us talk," he suggested and led the way back to their chairs. "Helen," he began, after she was seated. "There is nothing I will not do for your sister Barbara," his manner grew earnest. "I -" he flushed; baring his feelings to another, no matter how sympathetic that other was, was foreign to his reserved nature. "I love her beyond words to express. I tell you this to - to - gain your trust."
"You already have it, Harry!" Impulsively Helen extended her hand, and he held it in a firm clasp for a second. "Babs and I have come at once to you in our trouble."
"Yes, but you have only hinted what that trouble, was," he reminded her gently. "I cannot really aid you until you give me your full confidence."
Helen looked away from him and out of the window. The relief, which had lighted her face a moment before, had vanished. It was some minutes before she answered.
"Babs told you that I suspected Jimmie did not die from angina pectoris -" She spoke with an effort.
"Yes."
She waited a second before continuing her remarks. "I have asked the coroner to make an investigation." She paused again, then added with more animation, "He is the one to tell us if a crime has been committed."
"He can tell if death has been accelerated by a weapon, or a drug," responded Kent; he was weighing his words carefully so that she might understand him fully. "But to constitute a crime, it has to be proved first, that the act has been committed, and second, that a guilty mind or malice prompted it. Can you furnish a clew to establish either of the last mentioned facts in connection with Jimmie's death?"
Kent wondered if she had heard him, she was so long in replying, and he was about to repeat his question when she addressed him.
"Have you heard from Coroner Penfield?"
"No. I tried several times to get him on the telephone, but without success," replied Kent; his disappointment at not receiving an answer to his question showed in his manner. "I went to Penfield's house last night, but he had been called away on a case and, although I waited until nearly ten o'clock, he had not returned when I left. Have you had word from him?"
"Not - not directly." She had been nervously twisting her handkerchief about in her fingers; suddenly she turned and looked full at Kent, her eyes burning feverishly. "I would give all I possess, my hope of future happiness even, if I could prove that Jimmie died from angina pectoris."
Kent looked at her in mingled sympathy and doubt. - What did her words imply - further tragedy?
"Jimmie might not have died from angina pectoris," he said, "and still not have been poisoned -"
"You mean -"
"Suicide."
Slowly Helen took in his meaning, but she volunteered no remark, and Kent after a pause, added, "While I have not seen Coroner Penfield I did hear last night what killed Jimmie." Helen straightened up, one hand pressed to her heart. "It was a lethal dose of amyl nitrite."
"Amyl nitrite," she repeated. "Yes, I have heard that it is given for heart trouble. How" - she looked at him queerly. "How is it administered?"
"By crushing a capsule in a handkerchief and inhaling its fumes " - he was watching her closely. "The handkerchief Jimmie was seen to use just before he died was found to contain two or more broken capsules."
Helen sat immovable for over a minute, then she bowed her head and burst into dry tearless sobs which wracked her body. Kent laid a tender hand on her shoulder, then concluding it was better for her to have her cry out, he wandered aimlessly about the office waiting for her to regain her composure.
He stopped before one of the windows facing south and stared moodily at the Belasco Theater. That playhouse had surely never staged a more complicated mystery than the one he had set himself to unravel. What consolation could he offer Helen? If he encouraged her belief in his theory that Jimmie committed suicide he would have to establish a motive for suicide, and that motive might
"Let us talk," he suggested and led the way back to their chairs. "Helen," he began, after she was seated. "There is nothing I will not do for your sister Barbara," his manner grew earnest. "I -" he flushed; baring his feelings to another, no matter how sympathetic that other was, was foreign to his reserved nature. "I love her beyond words to express. I tell you this to - to - gain your trust."
"You already have it, Harry!" Impulsively Helen extended her hand, and he held it in a firm clasp for a second. "Babs and I have come at once to you in our trouble."
"Yes, but you have only hinted what that trouble, was," he reminded her gently. "I cannot really aid you until you give me your full confidence."
Helen looked away from him and out of the window. The relief, which had lighted her face a moment before, had vanished. It was some minutes before she answered.
"Babs told you that I suspected Jimmie did not die from angina pectoris -" She spoke with an effort.
"Yes."
She waited a second before continuing her remarks. "I have asked the coroner to make an investigation." She paused again, then added with more animation, "He is the one to tell us if a crime has been committed."
"He can tell if death has been accelerated by a weapon, or a drug," responded Kent; he was weighing his words carefully so that she might understand him fully. "But to constitute a crime, it has to be proved first, that the act has been committed, and second, that a guilty mind or malice prompted it. Can you furnish a clew to establish either of the last mentioned facts in connection with Jimmie's death?"
Kent wondered if she had heard him, she was so long in replying, and he was about to repeat his question when she addressed him.
"Have you heard from Coroner Penfield?"
"No. I tried several times to get him on the telephone, but without success," replied Kent; his disappointment at not receiving an answer to his question showed in his manner. "I went to Penfield's house last night, but he had been called away on a case and, although I waited until nearly ten o'clock, he had not returned when I left. Have you had word from him?"
"Not - not directly." She had been nervously twisting her handkerchief about in her fingers; suddenly she turned and looked full at Kent, her eyes burning feverishly. "I would give all I possess, my hope of future happiness even, if I could prove that Jimmie died from angina pectoris."
Kent looked at her in mingled sympathy and doubt. - What did her words imply - further tragedy?
"Jimmie might not have died from angina pectoris," he said, "and still not have been poisoned -"
"You mean -"
"Suicide."
Slowly Helen took in his meaning, but she volunteered no remark, and Kent after a pause, added, "While I have not seen Coroner Penfield I did hear last night what killed Jimmie." Helen straightened up, one hand pressed to her heart. "It was a lethal dose of amyl nitrite."
"Amyl nitrite," she repeated. "Yes, I have heard that it is given for heart trouble. How" - she looked at him queerly. "How is it administered?"
"By crushing a capsule in a handkerchief and inhaling its fumes " - he was watching her closely. "The handkerchief Jimmie was seen to use just before he died was found to contain two or more broken capsules."
Helen sat immovable for over a minute, then she bowed her head and burst into dry tearless sobs which wracked her body. Kent laid a tender hand on her shoulder, then concluding it was better for her to have her cry out, he wandered aimlessly about the office waiting for her to regain her composure.
He stopped before one of the windows facing south and stared moodily at the Belasco Theater. That playhouse had surely never staged a more complicated mystery than the one he had set himself to unravel. What consolation could he offer Helen? If he encouraged her belief in his theory that Jimmie committed suicide he would have to establish a motive for suicide, and that motive might