The Case of Jennie Brice | Page 7

I had put it on the mantel over the stove I
was using up-stairs the night before, and hadn't touched it since. As I
sat staring at it, Terry took it from Peter and handed it to me.
"Better give me a penny, Mrs. Pitman," he said in his impudent Irish
way. "I hate to give you a knife. It may cut our friendship."
I reached over to hit him a clout on the head, but I did not. The sunlight
was coming in through the window at the top of the stairs, and shining
on the rope that was tied to the banister. The end of the rope was
covered with stains, brown, with a glint of red in them.
I got up shivering. "You can get the meat at the butcher's, Terry," I said,
"and come back for me in a half-hour." Then I turned and went
up-stairs, weak in the knees, to put on my hat and coat. I had made up
my mind that there had been murder done.

CHAPTER III
I looked at my clock as I went down-stairs. It was just twelve-thirty. I
thought of telephoning for Mr. Reynolds to meet me, but it was his
lunch hour, and besides I was afraid to telephone from the house while
Mr. Ladley was in it.
Peter had been whining again. When I came down the stairs he had
stopped whimpering and was wagging his tail. A strange boat had put
into the hallway and was coming back.

"Now, old boy!" somebody was saying from the boat. "Steady, old
chap! I've got something for you."
A little man, elderly and alert, was standing up in the boat, poling it
along with an oar. Peter gave vent to joyful yelps. The elderly
gentleman brought his boat to a stop at the foot of the stairs, and
reaching down into a tub at his feet, held up a large piece of raw liver.
Peter almost went crazy, and I remembered suddenly that I had
forgotten to feed the poor beast for more than a day.
"Would you like it?" asked the gentleman. Peter sat up, as he had been
taught to do, and barked. The gentleman reached down again, got a
wooden platter from a stack of them at his feet, and placing the liver on
it, put it on the step. The whole thing was so neat and businesslike that
I could only gaze.
"That's a well-trained dog, madam," said the elderly gentleman,
beaming at Peter over his glasses. "You should not have neglected
him."
"The flood put him out of my mind," I explained, humbly enough, for I
was ashamed.
"Exactly. Do you know how many starving dogs and cats I have found
this morning?" He took a note-book out of his pocket and glanced at it.
"Forty-eight. Forty-eight, madam! And ninety-three cats! I have found
them marooned in trees, clinging to fences, floating on barrels, and I
have found them in comfortable houses where there was no excuse for
their neglect. Well, I must be moving on. I have the report of a cat with
a new litter in the loft of a stable near here."
He wiped his hands carefully on a fresh paper napkin, of which also a
heap rested on one of the seats of the boat, and picked up an oar,
smiling benevolently at Peter. Then, suddenly, he bent over and looked
at the stained rope end, tied to the stair-rail.
"What's that?" he said.

"That's what I'm going to find out," I replied. I glanced up at the
Ladleys' door, but it was closed.
The little man dropped his oar, and fumbling in his pockets, pulled out
a small magnifying-glass. He bent over, holding to the rail, and
inspected the stains with the glass. I had taken a fancy to him at once,
and in spite of my excitement I had to smile a little.
"Humph!" he said, and looked up at me. "That's blood. Why did you
cut the boat loose?"
"I didn't," I said. "If that is blood, I want to know how it got there. That
was a new rope last night." I glanced at the Ladleys' door again, and he
followed my eyes.
"I wonder," he said, raising his voice a little, "if I come into your
kitchen, if you will allow me to fry a little of that liver. There's a
wretched Maltese in a tree at the corner of Fourth Street that won't
touch it, raw."
I saw that he wanted to talk to me, so I turned around and led the way
to the temporary kitchen I had made.
"Now," he said briskly, when he had closed the door, "there's
something wrong here. Perhaps if you tell me, I can help. If I can't,