The Circular Study | Page 9

too sore for me to want her to clinch hold on it again. So when she started to go, I took a step nearer, and saw her move toward the curbstone and hold up her hand. But it wasn't a car she was after, for none came by for several minutes."
The fold between Mr. Gryce's eyes perceptibly smoothed out.
"Then it was some cabman or hack-driver she hailed. Were there any empty coaches about that you saw?"
The boy had not noticed. He had reached the limit of his observations, and no amount of further questioning could elicit anything more from him. This Mr. Gryce soon saw, and giving him into the charge of one of his assistants who was on duty at this place, he proceeded back to the ill-omened house where the tragedy itself had occurred.
"Any one waiting for me?" he inquired of Styles, who came to the door.
"Yes, sir; a young man; name, Hines. Says he's an electrician."
"That's the man I want. Where is he?"
"In the parlor, sir."
"Good! I'll see him. But don't let any one else in. Anybody upstairs?"
"No, sir, all gone. Shall I go up or stay here?"
"You'd better go up. I'll look after the door."
Styles nodded, and went toward the stairs, up which he presently disappeared. Mr. Gryce proceeded to the parlor.
A dapper young man with an intelligent eye rose to meet him. "You sent for me," said he.
The detective nodded, asked a few questions, and seeming satisfied with the replies he received, led the way into Mr. Adams's study, from which the body had been removed to an upper room. As they entered, a mild light greeted them from a candle which, by Mr. Gryce's orders, had been placed on a small side table near the door. But once in, Mr. Gryce approached the larger table in the centre of the room, and placing his hand on one of the buttons before him, asked his companion to be kind enough to blow out the candle. This he did, leaving the room for a moment in total darkness. Then with a sudden burst of illumination, a marvellous glow of a deep violet color shot over the whole room, and the two men turned and faced each other both with inquiry in their looks, so unexpected was this theatrical effect to the one, and so inexplicable its cause and purpose to the other.
"That is but one slide," remarked Mr. Gryce. "Now I will press another button, and the color changes to--pink, as you see. This one produces green, this one white, and this a bilious yellow, which is not becoming to either of us, I am sure. Now will you examine the connection, and see if there is anything peculiar about it?"
Mr. Hines at once set to work. But beyond the fact that the whole contrivance was the work of an amateur hand, he found nothing strange about it, except the fact that it worked so well.
Mr. Gryce showed disappointment.
"He made it, then, himself?" he asked.
"Undoubtedly, or some one else equally unacquainted with the latest method of wiring."
"Will you look at these books over here and see if sufficient knowledge can be got from them to enable an amateur to rig up such an arrangement as this?"
Mr. Hines glanced at the shelf which Mr. Gryce had pointed out, and without taking out the books, answered briefly:
"A man with a deft hand and a scientific turn of mind might, by the aid of these, do all you see here and more. The aptitude is all."
"Then I'm afraid Mr. Adams had the aptitude," was the dry response. There was disappointment in the tone. Why, his next words served to show. "A man with a turn for mechanical contrivances often wastes much time and money on useless toys only fit for children to play with. Look at that bird cage now. Perched at a height totally beyond the reach of any one without a ladder, it must owe its very evident usefulness (for you see it holds a rather lively occupant) to some contrivance by which it can be raised and lowered at will. Where is that contrivance? Can you find it?"
The expert thought he could. And, sure enough, after some ineffectual searching, he came upon another button well hid amid the tapestry on the wall, which, when pressed, caused something to be disengaged which gradually lowered the cage within reach of Mr. Gryce's hand.
"We will not send this poor bird aloft again," said he, detaching the cage and holding it for a moment in his hand. "An English starling is none too common in this country. Hark! he is going to speak."
But the sharp-eyed bird, warned perhaps by the emphatic gesture of the detective that silence would be more in order at this moment than his usual appeal to