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Diamond Cross Mystery

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<h2 id="id01054" style="margin-top: 4em">CHAPTER X</h2> <h5 id="id01055">THE DEATH WATCH</h5> Doctor Warren, the county physician, stopping in at police headquarters, as he often did on returning from his round of private visits, to see if there were any official calls for him, encountered Detective Carroll. "Hello, Doc!" was the genial greeting, for Doctor Warren was more than a physician. He was a politician, and politics and the police were no more divorced in Colchester than elsewhere. "Seen that colonel guy to-day?" asked Carroll. "The colonel guy?" The doctor's voice showed his puzzlement. "Yes, the chap that's working with Kenneth on the Darcy case." "Seen him? No, I haven't." "He was here looking for you a little while ago. Seemed quite anxious about meeting you. Here he is now. Say, if he lets out anything we can use against Darcy—you know, legitimate stuff—pass it on to me and Thong, will you? You know we've got to go on the stand, and, between you and me, our case ain't any too strong." "That's right. I'll let you know what I hear," and the two ended their half-whispered talk as Colonel Ashley entered police headquarters. It was his third visit to headquarters that day in search of Doctor Warren, and he would state the object of his seeking to none other. Now he smiled at the man he had been looking for. They had met previously. "Ah, good afternoon, Doctor Warren. I've been looking for you," was the colonel's greeting. "If you're not busy, sir, I'd like just a few minutes of your time—officially, of course." "Always ready for duty, Colonel. I guess you military men know that we doctors are in a sort of class with yourselves when it comes to that." "You're right. Now I won't be much more than a minute, and what I want to ask you, I can propound right here as well as anywhere. You know I'm working to save Darcy?" "So I've heard." "Well, you examined Mrs. Darcy soon after she was found dead. You may, or you may not, have formed an opinion as to who killed her, but I judge you are positive as to how she was killed—I mean the nature of the wound." "There were two wounds you know—a fracture of the skull just back of the right ear, and a stab wound in the left side which punctured the heart. Either would have caused death." "Can you tell which killed her?" "I should say the stab wound, but I can not be positive. You understand, Colonel, that I am to go on the stand for the prosecution and tell all I know about this case." "Oh, yes, I realize that, of course. You are practically a witness against Darcy. And I don't, for one moment, wish you to think that I am trying to get advance information to use in his favor. This is simply in the matter of justice, the ends of which I know you wish to serve, as I do myself. So if I ask anything improper please stop me. But since you will testify about these wounds, and since you have already pretty well described them to the newspaper reporters, it can do no harm to repeat the details to me." "None in the least, Colonel." "Then you feel sure the stab wound killed her?" "Reasonably so. Of course, as I said, either blow could have caused death, but blows on the head, even when the skull is badly fractured, as in this case, do not invariably cause death instantly. In fact the victim usually lingers for several hours in an unconscious state. Not so, however, in the case of a stab wound in or near the heart. That is almost always fatal within a short space of time—a minute or two. So, while it is possible that Mrs. Darcy was first stunned by a blow on the head, which eventually would have killed her, I think death almost at once followed the stab wound." "Could both have been delivered by the same person?" "Of course. First the blow on the head, followed by the stab wound." "And there were no other injuries on the body?" "None, except minor bruises caused by the fall to the floor. But they were superficial." "Nothing else?" "No—um let me see—no, I think not." "Are you sure, Dr. Warren?" The colonel's voice had a strange ring in it. "Why, yes, I am sure. I was about to say that there was a slight abrasion in the palm of the left hand, a sort of scratch or puncture, as though from a pin, but as she was in the jewelry business and, as I understand it, often made slight repairs herself to brooches and pins brought in, this could easily be accounted for." "A slight abrasion in the left hand you say?" "Yes. But I don't attach any importance to that. It was so slight that I and my assistant only gave it a passing glance. It hardly penetrated the skin." "I see. In the left hand. This is the hand in which the ticking watch was found, was it not?" "I believe so. The watch belonging to an Indian named Singa Phut. By the way what became of him?" the doctor asked of Detective Carroll, who had strolled out of the detectives' private room and was listening to the conversation. "Oh, that gink? He made a big howl about getting back his watch, and as he had a perfectly good alibi, and we could fasten nothing on him, we give it back to him and told him to beat it. He did, I guess." "No, he is still in town," said Colonel Ashley. "I passed his place a while ago. He has a pair of beautiful Benares candlesticks, in the form of hooded cobra snakes, that I want to get. Singa Phut is still in town." "Does that answer all your questions, Colonel?" inquired Dr. Warren. "I'll tell you all I can, in reason, but if—" "Thank you! You've told me all I cared to know. I have some theories I want to work on, and I'm not sure how they'll turn out." "I s'pose you think Darcy didn't do this job," cut in Carroll, rather sneeringly. "I'm positive he didn't, sir!" and the colonel drew himself up and looked uncompromisingly at the headquarters detective. "If I thought he had done it, I would not be associated with his case." "You're going to have a sweet job proving he didn't do it," laughed the officer. "Maybe," assented the colonel unruffled. "Who else could have croaked her?" pursued Carroll. "Here he goes and has a quarrel with the old lady just before he goes to bed. He's sore at her because he thinks she's keeping back part of his coin. Then he's sore because she made some cracks about his girl—that's enough to get any man riled. I don't blame Darcy for going off his nut. But he shouldn't have croaked the old lady. He done it all right, and we got the goods on him! You'll see!" "Well, it's your business, of course—yours and that of the prosecutor—to prove him guilty," said the colonel. "And you can't quarrel with me if I try to prove him innocent." "Sure not, Colonel. Every man's got to earn his bread and butter somehow. Only I hate to see you kid yourself along believing this guy didn't do the job. He done it, I tell you!" "Maybe," half assented the colonel. "Thank you, Dr. Warren. We shall meet again," and, with a military salute, the colonel went out of police headquarters. As he descended the steps he silently mused: "I wonder what Carroll and Thong would say if they knew about the diamond cross, and heard that Spotty Morgan had it? I guess they would change some of their theories then. Which reminds me that I have more irons in the fire than I suspected. I must not lose sight of Cynthia. She will be getting anxious about her diamonds, and I would like to see what she says when she hears the truth." Though Colonel Ashley had given up all hopes of having a use for his beloved fishing rods and flies, at least on this trip to Colchester, he did not give up his perusal of Walton's book. It was one evening while sitting in his room at the hotel, idly turning over the pages, hardly able to concentrate his mind on what he read for much thinking of the diamond cross mystery, that his eye chanced on page 170, where he saw the passage: "There be also three or four other little fish that I had almost forgot, that are all without scales—" The book dropped from the detective's hand. "Gad!" he exclaimed. "That's what I've been forgetting—the little fish. I must get after some of them. They may turn the scale in our favor. Little fish! That's it. Small fry, when you can't get big ones! I wonder—" There was a knock at the door and Shag entered, bowing and saluting military style at the same time. "Scuse me, Colonel, sah," he began, "but does yo' want t' heah any news?" "Any news, Shag? What sort? Come, speak up, you rascal!" "Well, sah, Colonel, yo' done tell me, when we come heah, not t' trouble yo' wif any detective news, but—" "Oh, that was before I got mixed up in this Darcy case, Shag. The prohibition is off, so to speak. If you have any news—" "No, sah, Colonel, 'tisn't 'bout po' ole Miss Darcy—leastways not much about her. But dere's been annudder murder in town." "Another murder?" "Yes, Colonel. Boys on de streets yellin' extry papers now, all 'bout de murder." "Who is it? Where? When did it happen?" "Jest 'bout a hour ago. It's a man—a Indian man whut kept a curiosity shop—de same place where yo' an' me was lookin' at dem funny snake candlesticks las' week." "Singa Phut's place? Great Scott, Shag! You don't mean to tell me, he's killed, do you?" "No, sah, Colonel! Dat Mr. Phut ain't killed. It's his partner. He's got a funny name, too. Heah, I done brought yo' a paper," and Shag pulled out an extra from under his vest, where he had carefully kept it concealed until he had made sure of his master's frame of mind. The colonel scanned the front page with its black type eagerly. Surely enough, there had been a murder. Shere Ali, Singa Phut's partner, had been found lying on the floor of the little curiosity shop with his head crushed in. "And in the dead man's hand was a ticking watch," read the colonel. For a moment he stared at the words. Then a light seemed to come over his face. He crushed the paper in his hand, and then spread it out to read again the startling news, while he murmured: "The watch of death!" <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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