The Mansion of Mystery - Being a Certain Case of Importance, Taken from the Note-book of Adam Adams, Investigator and Detective

Chester K. Steele

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• Publié par: foip
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 32
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Mansion of
Mystery, by Chester K. Steele
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Title: The Mansion of Mystery Being a Certain
Case of Importance, Taken from the Note-book of
Adam Adams, Investigator and Detective
Author: Chester K. Steele
Release Date: July 4, 2005 [eBook #16204]
Language: English
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG
EBOOK THE MANSION OF MYSTERY***
E-text prepared by Al HainesTHE MANSION OF MYSTERY
Being a Certain Case of Importance, Taken from
the Note-book of Adam Adams, Investigator and
Detective
by
CHESTER K. STEELE
Author of "The Disappearance of John Darr"
International Fiction Library
Cleveland New York
Press of the Commercial Bookbinding Co.,
Cleveland
1911
CHAPTER ITHE STORY OF A DOUBLE TRAGEDY
The young man was evidently in a tremendous
hurry, and as soon as the ferryboat bumped into
the slip he was at the gate and was the first one
ashore. He beckoned to one of the alert
taxicabmen, and without waiting to have the vehicle
brought to him, ran to it and leaped inside.
"Do you know where the Vanderslip Building is?" he
questioned abruptly.
"Yes, sir."
"Then take me there with all possible speed."
"Yes, sir."
The door slammed, the taxi driver mounted to his
seat, and off the taxi started at the best rate of
speed the driver could attain. The young man sank
down among the cushions and buried his chin in
his hands.
His face, normally a handsome one, was now
wrinkled with care, his hair was disheveled, and he
looked as if he had lost much sleep. At times his
mouth twitched nervously and he clenched his fists
in a passion which availed him nothing.
"To think that she is guilty!" he muttered. "It is
horrible! Horrible!" And then his whole frame shook
as if with the ague. Twice he started up, to see if
he had not yet arrived at his destination. But thedrive was a long one, and to him, in his keen
anxiety, it appeared an age.
"If he is away—out of town—in Europe, or on some
case which he cannot leave, what am I to do?" he
murmured. "I've pinned my whole faith on him."
Presently there was a jar, and the taxicab came to
a halt in front of a large office building. The young
man gave one look, and, before the driver could
get down, had the door open and was on the
pavement. "Here you are," he said and thrust a
dollar bill into the fellow's hand. Then he crossed
the broad pavement and was lost to sight in the
corridor beyond.
"In a hurry and no mistake, and looks a heap
worried, too," was the chauffeur's comment. "Well,
I'm a quarter ahead on that fare."
For a moment the young man studied the directory
on the corridor wall. Then he entered an elevator
and alighted at the eighth floor. He, walked down a
side hall until he came to a door upon the glass of
which was inscribed the name:
Adam Adams
"This must be the place," he murmured, and
opening the door he entered the office, to find
himself in a plain but neatly furnished apartment,
containing several chairs, and a flat-top desk, at
which a young lady was writing.
"Is Mr. Adams in?" he asked, as the young ladyarose to meet him.
"What name, please?" was the counter question,
and the young lady gave the visitor a keen glance.
"Raymond Case." The young man brought forth his
card. "Tell Mr. Adams I am the son of the late
Wilbur Case, and wish to see him on important
business."
The young lady disappeared through a door
leading to an inner apartment. From this she
entered another apartment, much larger, and
overlooking the little city park far below. The room
was filled with books and pictures, and some wall
brackets contained several bits of finely-carved
statuary. There was one large roller-top desk and
three comfortable leather chairs.
At the desk sat a man of uncertain age, with a
strong face, a somewhat bald head, and eyes that
were neither light nor dark. The man was of
ordinary height, but muscular to a surprising
degree. His face showed a high order of
intelligence and his mouth a determination not
easily thrust aside.
"A gentleman to see you," said the young lady. She
placed the card before him. "He told me to tell you
that he is the son of the late Wilbur Case, and
wishes to see you on important business."
The man at the desk drew a long breath and
looked up from a slip of paper which he had been
studying through a microscope. "Raymond Case,eh? All right, Letty, show him in."
In another moment the visitor was in the private
office. Adam Adams arose and gave him a warm
handshake.
"Glad to meet you, Mr. Case," he said cordially. "I
knew your late father quite well—a fine man—a
very fine man, indeed. Have a chair and make
yourself at home." He noted that his visitor was
much agitated and flushed. "Sit down by the
window; there is a nice breeze there from across
the park."
"Mr. Adams, I would like to see you in private,"
returned the young man, as he took a seat and
mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
"Very well," and the office door was carefully
closed. Then came a brief pause, during which
Raymond Case cleared his throat several times.
"Mr. Adams, you do not know much about me, but
I know a great deal about you," he commenced.
"Three or four years ago you recovered some
stolen mining shares for my father, and last year
you cleared up the Sandford mystery, after the
police and the other detectives had failed
completely."
Adam Adams bowed. He rarely spoke unless there
was occasion for it.
"May I ask if you are now at liberty?" pursued the
young man."At liberty? Bless you, no! I have half a dozen
cases on hand. Two here in the city—one over in
New Jersey—one in Yonkers, and—"
"But you will undertake a case for me, if I pay you
well for it, won't you?" interrupted the young man
eagerly. "Don't say no—please don't!" And there
was a ring of agony in his speech. "I am depending
upon you!"
The detective paused before replying, and looked
the young man over with care. The clean-cut
features showed not a sign of dissipation, and the
expression was honesty itself. Certainly the young
man had not gotten into trouble on his own
account.
"I should want to know something about the case
before I promised to do anything."
"Certainly—of course—" The young man cleared
his throat again.
"You can tell me what the trouble is and if I decline
to take the case I will give you my promise not to
say a word to any outsider of what has passed
between us."
"Oh, I know I can trust you, Mr. Adams, otherwise
I should not have called here. My father said you
were the squarest man he had ever dealt with. I
came to see you about the Langmore affair."
"You mean the murder of Mr. and Mrs. BarryLangmore at Beechwood Hill?"
"Yes."
Adam Adams was surprised, although he did not
show it. What had this rich young man, who lived in
Orange, New Jersey, and did business in Wall
Street, to do with that double tragedy which had so
shocked the community?
"I presume you know some of the particulars of the
sad affair," resumed
Raymond Case. "The newspapers have been full of
it."
"I know that the pair were found murdered. I have
not looked into details, being so busy with other
matters."
"It was an outrageous deed, Mr. Adams!" cried the
young man, jumping up and beginning to pace the
floor. "One of the foulest of which I have ever
heard."
"A murder is always foul, no matter under what
circumstances it is committed. What do you wish
me to do?"
"Find the murderer."
"That may not be easy. Are not other detectives
already working on the case?"
"Yes, but they are only local men and not worth
their salt.""They may be doing all that can be done. It is a
mistake to presume that every mystery of this sort
can be solved. Here in New York men go to their
death every year and nobody ever finds out how,
or by what hand."
"But the local men simply jump at conclusions.
They are a set of blind fools, and—" The young
man stopped short.
Adam Adams smiled faintly. He knew something of
the bungling work done by detectives of small
caliber. Had he not himself once saved a poor Jew
from hanging after several country detectives had
apparently proved the fellow guilty? And had not
those same sleuths of the law been angry at him
ever since?
"Excuse me, Mr. Case, but how is it that you take
an interest in this affair?" he asked. "A