Sax Rohmer - THE YELLOW CLAW

these times, was very neglectful in regard to meals, prepared him an

omelette, and brought it down in a chafing-dish.”

“How long did she remain?” asked the inspector of Leroux.

“I--er--did not exactly open the door. We chatted, through--er--through

the letter-box, and she left the omelette outside on the landing.”

“What time would that be?”

“It was a quarter to twelve,” declared Cumberly. “I had been supping

with some friends, and returned to find Helen, my daughter, engaged

in preparing the omelette. I congratulated her upon the happy thought,

knowing that Leroux was probably starving himself.”

“I see. The omelette, though, seems to be upset here on the floor?” said

the inspector.

Cumberly briefly explained how it came to be there, Leroux punctuating

his friend's story with affirmative nods.

“Then the door of the flat was open all the time?” cried Dunbar.

“Yes,” replied Cumberly; “but whilst Exel and I searched the other

rooms--and our search was exhaustive--Mr. Leroux remained here in the

study, and in full view of the lobby--as you see for yourself.”

“No living thing,” said Leroux, monotonously, “left this flat from the

time that the three of us, Exel, Cumberly, and I, entered, up to the

time that Miss Cumberly came, and, with the doctor, went out again.”

“H'm!” said the inspector, making notes; “it appears so, certainly. I

will ask you then, for your own account, Mr. Leroux, of the arrival of

the woman in the civet furs. Pay special attention”--he pointed with his

fountain-pen--“to the TIME at which the various incidents occurred.”

Leroux, growing calmer as he proceeded with the strange story, complied

with the inspector's request. He had practically completed his account

when the door-bell rang.

“It's the servants,” said Dr. Cumberly. “Soames will open the door.”

But Soames did not appear.

The ringing being repeated:--

“I told him to remain in his room,” said Dunbar, “until I rang for him,

I remember--”

“I will open the door,” said Cumberly.

“And tell the servants to stay in the kitchen,” snapped Dunbar.

Dr. Cumberly opened the door, admitting the cook and housemaid.

“There has been an unfortunate accident,” he said--“but not to your

master; you need not be afraid. But be good enough to remain in the

kitchen for the present.”

Peeping in furtively as they passed, the two women crossed the lobby and

went to their own quarters.

“Mr. Soames next,” muttered Dunbar, and, glancing at Cumberly as he

returned from the lobby:--“Will you ring for him?” he requested.

Dr. Cumberly nodded, and pressed a bell beside the mantelpiece. An

interval followed, in which the inspector made notes and Cumberly stood

looking at Leroux, who was beating his palms upon his knees, and staring

unseeingly before him.

Cumberly rang again; and in response to the second ring, the housemaid

appeared at the door.

“I rang for Soames,” said Dr. Cumberly.

“He is not in, sir,” answered the girl.

Inspector Dunbar started as though he had been bitten.

“What!” he cried; “not in?”

“No, sir,” said the girl, with wide-open, frightened eyes.

Dunbar turned to Cumberly.

“You said there was no other way out!”

“There IS no other way, to my knowledge.”

“Where's his room?”

Cumberly led the way to a room at the end of a short corridor, and

Inspector Dunbar, entering, and turning up the light, glanced about

the little apartment. It was a very neat servants' bedroom; with

comfortable, quite simple, furniture; but the chest-of-drawers had

been hastily ransacked, and the contents of a trunk--or some of its

contents--lay strewn about the floor.

“He has packed his grip!” came Leroux's voice from the doorway. “It's

gone!”

The window was wide open. Dunbar sprang forward and leaned out over the

ledge, looking to right and left, above and below.

A sort of square courtyard was beneath, and for the convenience of

tradesmen, a hand-lift was constructed outside the kitchens of the three

flats comprising the house; i. e.:--Mr. Exel's, ground floor, Henry

Leroux's second floor, and Dr. Cumberly's, top. It worked in a skeleton

shaft which passed close to the left of Soames' window.

For an active man, this was a good enough ladder, and the inspector

withdrew his head shrugging his square shoulders, irritably.

“My fault entirely!” he muttered, biting his wiry mustache. “I should

have come and seen for myself if there was another way out.”

Leroux, in a new flutter of excitement, now craned from the window.

“It might be possible to climb down the shaft,” he cried, after a brief

survey, “but not if one were carrying a heavy grip, such as that which

he has taken!”

“H'm!” said Dunbar. “You are a writing gentleman, I understand, and yet

it does not occur to you that he could have lowered the bag on a cord,

if he wanted to avoid the noise of dropping it!”

“Yes--er--of course!” muttered Leroux. “But really--but really--oh, good

God! I am bewildered! What in Heaven's name does it all mean!”

“It means trouble,” replied Dunbar, grimly; “bad trouble.”

They returned to the study, and Inspector Dunbar, for the first time

since his arrival, walked across and examined the fragmentary message,

raising his eyebrows when he discovered that it was written upon the

same paper as Leroux's MSS. He glanced, too, at the pen lying on a page

of “Martin Zeda” near the lamp and at the inky splash which told how

hastily the pen had been dropped.

Then--his brows drawn together--he stooped to the body of the murdered

woman. Partially raising the fur cloak, he suppressed a gasp of

astonishment.

“Why! she only wears a silk night-dress, and a pair of suede slippers!”

He glanced back over his shoulder.

“I had noted that,” said Cumberly. “The whole business is utterly

extraordinary.”

“Extraordinary is no word for it!” growled the inspector, pursuing his

examination.... “Marks of pressure at the throat--yes; and generally

unhealthy appearance.”

“Due to the drug habit,” interjected Dr. Cumberly.

“What drug?”

“I should not like to say out of hand; possibly morphine.”

“No jewelry,” continued the detective, musingly; “wedding ring--not a

new one. Finger nails well cared for, but recently neglected. Hair dyed

to hide gray patches; dye wanted renewing. Shoes, French. Night-robe,

silk; good lace; probably French, also. Faint perfume--don't know what

it is--apparently proceeding from civet fur. Furs, magnificent; very

costly.”...

He slightly moved the table-lamp in order to direct its light upon

the white face. The bloodless lips were parted and the detective bent,

closely peering at the teeth thus revealed.

“Her teeth were oddly discolored, doctor,” he said, taking out a

magnifying glass and examining them closely. “They had been recently

scaled, too; so that she was not in the habit of neglecting them.”

Dr. Cumberly nodded.

“The drug habit, again,” he said guardedly; “a proper examination will

establish the full facts.”

The inspector added brief notes to those already made, ere he rose from

beside the body. Then:--

“You are absolutely certain,” he said, deliberately, facing Leroux,

“that you had never set eyes on this woman prior to her coming here,