"How was he-he murdered?" he asked.
"Choked to death," said the other. "Somebody heard him yell for help a little while ago, and when a policeman came he smashed in the door and found him dead. The body was still warm."
The stranger's face was white as death now and his lips moved nervously. His hands, thrust deep into his pockets, were clenched until the nails cut the flesh.
"What time did it happen?" he said.
"The cop says about fifteen minutes to eleven," was the reply. "One of the tenants who lived on the second floor, where Boyd had a room, looked at his clock when he got up after he heard Boyd shout, so they know just when it was."
Uncontrollable terror glittered in the stranger's eyes, but none noted it. All were intently looking into the hall waiting for something.
"Medical Examiner Barry and Detective Mallory are up there now," volunteered the bystander. "The body will be coming out in a minute."
Then an awed whisper went around: "It's coming."
The stranger stood peering on as the others did.
"Do they know who did it?" he asked. His voice was tense, and he fiercely repressed a quaver in it.
"No," said his informant. "I heard, though, that a fellow had been up in Boyd's room to-night, and the man who had the next room heard them talking very loud. They had been playing cards."
"Did the man go out?" asked the stranger.
"Nobody saw him if he did," was the reply. "I guess, though, the police know who he was, and they're probably looking for him by this time. If they don't know, Mallory'll find him out all right."
"Great God!" exclaimed the stranger between his tightly compressed lips.
The other man turned and looked at him curiously.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"Nothing, nothing," said the stranger, hurriedly. "Look, there it comes-that's all. It's awful, awful, awful."
The big policeman in the door stepped to one side, and men came out bearing a litter, on which lay a grim, grisly something that had been a man. It was covered with a sheet. Beside it were Detective Mallory and Medical Examiner Barry. The little knot of onlookers was silent in the presence of death.
The stranger looked, looked as if fascinated by the horrid thing which lay there, watched them put the litter into the police ambulance, heard the Medical Examiner give some instructions and then Detective Mallory re-entered the house. The wagon drove away.
Turning suddenly, the stranger strode quickly down the avenue to the first corner. There he turned away and was swallowed up in the darkness. After a moment, from a distance, came the sound of a man's footsteps, running.
II.
Several newspaper men, among them Hutchinson Hatch, went over the scene of the crime with Detective Mallory. It was a square, corner room on the second floor. The furniture consisted only of a bed, a table, a wash stand, chairs, there was no carpet to cover the gaping cracks in the floor, no curtains on the two windows.
The building was old and poorly constructed. Here a part of the cornice was sagging and broken, there the walls were mouldy; the ceiling was blotched with smoke, over by the steam radiator rats had gnawed a hole big enough to put one's fist in, the single-stemmed gas jet was grimy with dirt.
Of the two windows one was in the back wall and one in the side. Hutchinson Hatch trailed around the room with Detective Mallory. He saw that the two windows were securely fastened down with a sliding catch over the middle of the lower sash; there were no broken panes so that one leaving by the window might have reached in and fastened it after him.
Mr. Mallory explored the closet, but found only the things that belong to a poor man: clothing, an old hat, a battered trunk. There was no opening, the walls were solid. Then Mr. Mallory went to the door that had been smashed in. It was the only door except that of the closet. There was no transom.
Mr. Mallory and the reporter looked at this door a long time. It had been fastened when the police came-barred with an iron rod from one side to the other-held in round, iron sockets, set in the door facing. Neither of the sockets was open at the top; the bar had to be pushed through one straight on across the door into the other.
Thus early in the investigation Hutchinson Hatch saw this problem. If the windows were fastened inside and the murderer could not have passed out that way; if the door was fastened inside with an iron bar in both sockets and the murderer could not have gone that way-What then?
Hatch thought instinctively of a certain scientist and logician of note. Professor Augustus S. F. X. Van Dusen, Ph. D., M. D., LL. D., etc., so-called The Thinking Machine, whom he had occasion to know well because of certain previous adventures in which the scientist had accomplished seemingly impossible things.
"And I think this would stump even him," Hatch said to himself with a grim smile.
Then he listened as Detective Mallory questioned the various tenants of the house. Briefly the detective brought out these facts:
A man, whose description the detective carefully noted, had called to see Boyd that evening about half past eight o'clock. He had been there many times before. Four persons had seen him this evening in Boyd's room, but no one of these knew his name. Some one passing had seen Boyd playing cards with him.
Shortly after 10 o'clock, when practically every one in the house had gone to bed, a man and woman in the next room heard Boyd's voice and that of his caller raised suddenly as if in argument. This continued for five minutes or so, then it quieted down. Such things were common in the tenement and the man and woman dropped off to sleep, thinking nothing of it.
Some time later, evidently only a few minutes, they were awakened by that pitiful, terror-stricken cry which made them shudder. With others in the house who had been aroused they dressed hurriedly. It was then they heard heavy foot steps in the hall below and the street door opened with a bang.
Both were of the opinion not five minutes could not have elapsed from the time they heard the cry until they stood outside the door where the man lay. They would have heard, they thought, anyone leave Boyd's room after they were awakened by the cry, yet there was no sound from there when they stood in the hall. Then they heard-what?
"It was a peculiar sound," the man explained. "It struck me first that it was the swish of silk skirt, then, of course, as no woman was in the room, it must have been the dying man breathing."
"Silk skirt! Woman! woman! wedding ring!" Hatch thought. Whose was it? How could a woman have escaped from the room when it seemed that it would have been impossible for a man to escape? The questionings concluded, Detective Mallory turned graciously to the representatives of the press who were waiting impatiently. It was after midnight, dangerously near the first edition time, and the reporters were anxious for the detective's comment.
He was about to begin when another reporter, one of Hatch's fellow workers, entered, called Hatch to one side and said something quickly. Hatch nodded his head and idly fingered a pack of playing cards he had taken from the table.
"Good," he said, "Go back to the office and write the story. I'll 'phone Mallory's statement and tell him that other thing. I want to do a little more work, but I'll be at the office by half-past 2 o'clock."
The reporter went out hurriedly.
"I suppose you boys want to know something about how all this happened?" the detective was saying. He lighted a cigar and spread his feet wide apart. "I'll tell you all I can-not all I know, mind you, because that wouldn't be wise, but how the murder happened, and you can put in the thrill and all that to suit yourself.
"About half-past 8 o'clock to-night a man called here to see Boyd. He knew Boyd very well-was probably a friend of several years' standing-and had called here frequently. We have an accurate description of him. He was seen by several persons who knew him by sight, therefore will be able to absolutely identify him when we arrest him.
"Now, those two men were together in this room for possibly two hours. They were playing cards. More than half the murders on record are committed in the heat of passion. These men quarrelled over their game, probably 'pitch' or 'casino'--"
"It's a pinochle pack," said Hatch.
"Then the crime was committed," the detective went on, not heeding the interruption, "the unknown man was sitting here," and Mallory indicated an overturned chair to his right.
"He leaped like this," and the detective, with a full eye for dramatic effect, illustrated, "seized Boyd by the throat, there was a struggle, notice the other overturned chair-and the unknown man bore Boyd down gripping his throat. He choked him to death."
"I thought the dead man was undressed when he was found?" asked Hatch. "The bed, too," and he indicated its disordered condition.
"He was, but-but it must have happened as I said," said the detective. He didn't like reporters who asked embarrassing questions. "His victim dead, the murderer went out by that door," and he pointed dramatically.
"Through the keyhole, I suppose?" said Hatch, quietly. "That door was fastened inside as no mere mortal could fasten it after he left the room."
"It's an old burglar's trick to fasten a door after you leave the room," said the detective, loftily.