CHAPTER VIII. BY WHOSE HAND?

Recalling the promise given Medora Royal, and now feeling a decided interest in the case itself, Nick Carter at once hastened to Fordham, and approached the rectory just before nine o’clock.

The news of the crime had spread, and at one of the side gates a curious crowd had gathered, restrained from entering the grounds by one of the local police.

Near the house, and at some distance from the street, was a group of men, including several officers and a physician, also the rector himself, all apparently interested in the doctor’s examination of a body lying upon the ground at their feet.

That Doctor Royal was among them, rather than in the house, suited Nick to the letter. Slipping into a disguise, that he might not thus early be identified with the case, Nick hastened to the adjoining cross-street on which the dwelling fronted. There he encountered none to oppose his entrance, and he strode quickly up the long gravel walk and rang the door-bell.

The summons brought Dora Royal to the door, and Nick, observing her shrink with surprise, quickly made himself known.

“I come in response to your telegram, Miss Royal.”

“But you are not Mr.——”

“Oh, yes, I am,” interposed Nick significantly. “I do not wish to be recognized by others, however. I want a word with you alone, that I may add to the instructions I gave you yesterday.”

Now convinced of his identity, Medora Royal hastened to admit him to a reception-room, the door of which Nick quietly closed.

“Our interview must be very brief, Miss Royal, for I wish to have a look at the evidence out yonder before it is seriously disturbed,” said he, declining a chair. “First, however, state anything that you know of the affair.”

“I know but very little, sir, save that it is most dreadful,” said the girl, pale and agitated.

“That is true, Miss Royal, but I wish to get at the superficial facts as quickly as possible.”

“If you will question me, sir, perhaps I more readily can——”

“I will do so,” interposed Nick, appreciating her nervous excitement. “Tell me when and by whom the body was discovered?”

“About eight o’clock, sir, and by a young man who is employed here as a gardener.”

“It is that of Cecil Kendall?”

“Alas, yes.”

“Dead?”

“For many hours, surely. He appears to have been killed with a——”

“Wait for my questions, please,” said Nick. “Was Kendall here in the house last evening?”

“He was not.”

“Who was here?”

“Only my father, myself, and two servants,” replied Dora. “We all retired soon after nine o’clock.”

“What of your brother?”

“He has not yet returned from Boston. That is, sir, unless—unless——”

“Unless what, Miss Royal?”

“Unless he arrived in New York yesterday, and remained at his room in the city.”

“Very probably that is what he did,” nodded Nick, both to relieve the girl and conceal his own misgivings. “Where is his room in town, Miss Royal?”

“At the Carleton Chambers. He prefers to keep a room there, rather than come out each night from college.”

“I see,” bowed Nick. “Now tell me, has your father said anything to you about his interview with Moses Flood?”

“Not one word, sir.”

“And you have had no callers here since yesterday afternoon?”

“None, Detective Carter.”

“Kindly do not mention my name, Miss Royal,” smiled Nick. “Even the walls may have ears.”

“I will be more guarded, sir.”

“And if you are still willing to follow my advice, I wish to add to my instructions,” said Nick, now having learned the important facts which she could impart to him.

“I am more than anxious to do so,” Dora answered feelingly. “Your immediate response to my telegram convinces me that you have my welfare at heart, and I will be rigidly governed by your instructions.”

“It will ultimately prove to your advantage,” said Nick earnestly. “I shall leave no stone unturned to bring about that which is dearest to you. This murder, however, if such it is, threatens to create serious complications, and it will very possibly circumstantially incriminate innocent parties.”

“Oh, oh, is it possible?”

“Let come what may, Miss Royal, I want you to trust the case entirely to me, and do exactly what I advise.”

“Indeed, sir, I will.”

“Under no circumstances are you to mention me in connection with the case, nor disclose our relations.”

“I will not.”

“Furthermore, whatever happens, or whoever appears to be involved, you must volunteer no opinion of the case. If you are questioned, however, answer precisely the same as if you had not overheard your father’s interview with Moses Flood, and as if you and I had never met. Will you do this?”

“I certainly will.”

“Then you may safely leave all the rest to me,” declared Nick warmly. “By whom did you send the telegram this morning?”

“By our chambermaid.”

“Does she know to whom it was addressed, or of what it consisted?”

“Neither, sir. I sent it to the telegraph office under seal.”

“Very good,” said Nick approvingly. “Be equally guarded in the future, or till I further advise you. This must be all for the present, Miss Royal, as I wish to make a few investigations outside. I will leave by the front door and pass around the house, that our interview here may not be suspected.”

“But how am I to repay you, or thank you for——”

“By following my instructions to the letter,” Nick gently interposed, as he led the troubled girl into the hall. “Keep them constantly in mind and trust me to be constantly alert to your interests. No more now, Miss Royal. You shall hear from me later.”

The last was said at the open door, and with the final word Nick nodded and smiled encouragingly, then left the veranda and quickly made his way around the house.

The interview had occupied but a very few minutes, and as Nick approached the group of men gathered near Kendall’s body, the physician was just about concluding his examination of the remains.

With a few rapid glances Nick took in the superficial evidence bearing upon the crime. The body lay upon the greensward to the right of a gravel walk leading around the house, and nearly midway between the walk and the library windows. The plot of grass between the walk and the house was about ten feet wide, and Nick promptly deduced one important point.

“There is no door on this side of the house, nor any direct approach to one from either gate,” he quickly reasoned. “Evidently Kendall came around here to peer through the library window before entering the house, and was struck down as he approached, or while quietly withdrawing. For some reason he must have aimed to learn who was within.”

A glance at the gravel walk and the greensward near-by, however, gave Nick no clue. If Kendall’s assailant had left any telltale footprints behind him, both his own and those that might have revealed the movements of his victim had been obliterated by the heavy tread of the several men gathered about the murdered man.

The body evidently lay where it had fallen, with arms outstretched and face upturned, gory and ghastly in the morning sunlight. The skull had been fractured by several blows with a heavy weapon, obviously a bludgeon of some kind, and from the shocking wounds the blood had oozed over the brow and hair of the stricken man, forming a sickening pool in the matted grass on which his head rested.

“Clad just as he was when he left Flood’s gambling-house,” thought Nick. “He must have come directly out here. There’s no sign of the satchel, however, in which he had brought away his winnings. It looks as if the motive was robbery.”

And Nick recalled the frenzied threats of young Harry Royal, but decided it was too early in the game to draw any reliable conclusions.

Nick reverted almost immediately to the physician, who had risen while wiping his soiled hands, and now addressed his several companions. Three of these were officers of the local police, among them Captain Talbot, of the precinct station, and one was a plain-clothes man from the central office, Detective Joe Gerry.

Nick knew all of them very well, and they him, yet for the present he preferred to hide his identity.

“A case of murder, Detective Gerry, that’s what it is,” declared the physician, turning to the central office man. “The question is, By whose hand was the crime committed?”

“How long has he been dead?” demanded Gerry bluntly.

“About twelve hours.”

“That would be since nine o’clock last evening?”

“That hits very near to it,” replied the physician.

“You are sure of this man’s identity, Doctor Royal?”

“Positively,” cried the rector, obviously much agitated. “He has been a frequent visitor here. I cannot comprehend how such a fate could have befallen him.”

“I’ll admit that the motive appears to be obscure,” replied Gerry, staring down at the body. “It cannot have been robbery, for neither his jewelry nor his pocketbook has been taken. No, no, the motive cannot have been robbery.”

“You’ll change your mind, Gerry, when you learn that this man won ninety thousand dollars just before coming out here,” said Nick to himself.

“Are some of your men searching the grounds for evidence, Talbot?” inquired Gerry, turning to the captain of police.

“Yes, several of them,” nodded Captain Talbot.

The detective reverted to Doctor Royal.

“Were you at home last evening?” he demanded.

“I was,” bowed the rector. “Both my daughter and myself.”

“Did you have any callers?”

“None, sir. We were alone all the evening.”

“In what part of the house?”

“In the library, sir, from dinner until after nine o’clock.”

“Where is the library located?”

“These are the windows, sir, right here.”

“Oh, ho!” exclaimed Gerry. “Is that so? It looks as if this man had designed to peer into them, and had been caught in the act, if not done up for it. Possibly we may find a motive for the crime by looking a little deeper. You say that this man Kendall was a friend of your family?”

Nick Carter saw what was coming, yet he made no move to head it off. His immediate design was only to observe the trend of the case, and then shape his own course accordingly.

Doctor Royal grew even more pale upon hearing the remarks of the central office man, and he fell to wringing his hands with a sort of nervous apprehension. He was thinking of his son, who for several days had been absent with Kendall, and had not yet returned.

Yet there lay Cecil Kendall, slain by the hand of an assassin, and the unaccountable absence of Harry Royal still remained to be explained.

The mystery of it all dismayed the worthy clergyman, yet, despite his desperate misgivings, he nerved himself to answer quite firmly:

“Yes, sir, Mr. Kendall has been a friend of my family for several years.”

“Were you expecting a visit from him last evening?” asked Gerry, with a keen eye to the rector’s perturbation.

“I cannot say that I was.”

“Has he called here frequently?”

“Quite so.”

“Come, come, Doctor Royal, what were his precise relations here?” demanded Gerry suspiciously. “You appear averse to letting go of something. If you know of any facts that may shed a ray of light upon this case, let’s have them at once. I’m sure that you personally can have no reason for hiding anything.”

“By no means,” cried Doctor Royal, with extreme nervousness. “I would give the world to know the truth of this dreadful affair.”

“What of Kendall, then, and his relations here?”

“Well—really—as a matter of fact, he was in love with my daughter,” faltered the rector, trembling visibly. “In a word, Detective Gerry, he was about the same as engaged to her.”

“Oh, ho! Then it’s barely possible that jealousy led some party to kill him,” cried Gerry, quickly snapping up the clue. “Has your daughter any other admirer who might be guilty of this?”

“I—I—really I can name no one who——”

“Stop a bit!” cried Captain Talbot abruptly. “Here comes Kelly on the run. By thunder, I believe he has the weapon with which the crime was committed!”

Every eye was quickly turned in the direction indicated.

Along a path leading around the stable and to a gate at the rear of the extensive grounds a policeman was hurriedly approaching, holding above his head what appeared to be a stout stick. As he drew near, however, it was seen to be a heavy cane, highly polished, and with a round silver head.

“What have you there, Kelly?” cried Detective Gerry sharply.

“See for yourself, sir,” replied the officer. “I found it thrust beneath a lot of brushwood under the wall at the rear of the grounds.”

The detective uttered a cry as he seized it.

“Good God! it’s covered with blood,” said he. “And see! here are bits of scalp and hair dried on the side and head of it.”

“His hair!” cried Talbot, pointing to the lifeless man near-by.

“No doubt of it—not a shadow of doubt!” exclaimed Gerry. “It’s the weapon with which the deed was done.”

Even Nick Carter was a little startled, as well as a good deal puzzled.

For Nick had almost instantly recognized the cane. It was the same that Nick had seen Moses Flood take from a rack just before leaving his gambling-house at half-past eight the previous evening.

Over the face of Doctor Leonard Royal there had come an expression not easily described. It was that of sudden and overwhelming relief, mingled with convictions and a bitterness that scarce had bounds. He no longer was restrained by apprehensions concerning his son, and the latter’s unaccountable absence, for he now believed that he read aright the appalling evidence before him. With a cry of bitter condemnation he sprang forward and laid his hand on Detective Gerry’s arm.

“Oh, the knave! the knave!” he exclaimed, in tones that startled all hearers. “I now see it all. I should have known it—I should have known it!”

“Good heavens, Doctor Royal, what are you saying?” demanded Gerry, involuntarily drawing back.

“That cane—it belongs to Moses Flood,” cried the rector, pointing wildly at the gory stick.

“To Moses Flood!”

“I have seen him carry it countless times,” cried the excited clergyman. “You are right—you are right! Jealousy was the motive for this crime. The cane belongs to Moses Flood, and only yesterday——”

“Do you mean Moses Flood, the gambler?” interrupted Gerry, in tones that began to ring with exultant convictions.

“The same—the same!” cried Doctor Royal. “Only yesterday I scornfully refused him the hand of my daughter, and told him she was already engaged to Cecil Kendall. Jealousy must have been the motive. Flood must be the guilty party. Only yesterday I——”

“By heavens, then, Flood is the man we want!” exclaimed Gerry, again interrupting the pale and excited rector.

Nick Carter could see only too plainly the result of the discoveries made there that morning, and he did not wait to hear more.

“Flood, eh?” he said to himself. “Not by a long chalk. Cane or no cane, Moses Flood never killed this man. It’s plainly time for me to get in a bit of lively work, and head off this man Gerry. He’ll now go at the case like a bull at a gate.”

As he turned from the scene, bent upon hastening away, Nick caught sight of a white, frightened face at one of the library windows—the face of the girl from whom he had recently parted, and who plainly had seen and heard all.

Darting around a corner of the house, Nick rapped smartly on one of the side windows. The sound quickly brought Dora Royal to him, and he signed for her to raise the sash.

“Do not be alarmed,” he then cried softly. “Your face will betray you unless you conceal your feelings. Did you hear all that was said out there?”

“Yes, yes, every word,” moaned the girl breathlessly. “Oh, oh, it cannot be possible! He never did it—he could not have done it!”

“Take my word for that, Miss Royal, and suppress your fears,” Nick hurriedly answered. “Let the evidence be what it may, never believe that Flood committed that crime. I have no time for more. Be guarded, constantly guarded, and follow my every instruction to the letter.”

“I surely will, sir. And you?”

“I’m off to queer the move against Moses Flood.”