The Hollow of Her Hand | Page 4

confident the--the man is your husband. It's an ugly affair, Mrs.
Wrandall. We had no means of identifying him until Drake came in this
evening, out of curiosity you might say. For your sake, I hope he is
mistaken."
"Would you mind telling me something about it before I go upstairs? I
am quite calm. I am prepared for anything. You need not hesitate."
"As you wish, madam. You will go into the reception-room, if you
please. Burton, is Mrs. Wrandall's room quite ready for her?"
"I shall not stay here to-night," interposed Mrs. Wrandall. "You need
not keep the room for me."
"But, my dear Mrs. Wrandall--"
"I shall wait in the railway station until morning if necessary. But not
here."
The coroner led the way to the cosy little room off the office. She
followed with the sheriff. The men looked worn and haggard in the
bright light that met them, as if they had not known sleep or rest for
many hours.
"The assistant district attorney was here until eleven, but went home to
get a little rest. It's been a hard case for all of us--a nasty one,"
explained the sheriff, as he placed a chair in front of the fire for her.
She sank into it limply.
"Go on, please," she murmured, and shook her head at the nervous little
woman who bustled up and inquired if she could do anything to make
her more comfortable.

The sheriff cleared his throat. "Well, it happened last night. All day
long we've been trying to find out who he is, and ever since eight
o'clock this morning we've been searching for the woman who came
here with him. She has disappeared as completely as if swallowed by
the earth. Not a sign of a clew---not a shred. There's nothing to show
when she left the inn or by what means. All we know is that the door to
that room up there was standing half open when Burton passed by it at
seven o'clock this morning---that is to say, yesterday morning, for this
is now Wednesday. It is quite clear, from this, that she neglected to
close the door tightly when she came out, probably through haste or
fear, and the draft in the hall blew it wider open during the night.
Burton says the inn was closed for the night at half-past ten. He went to
bed. She must have slipped out after every one was sound asleep. There
were no other guests on that floor. Burton and his wife sleep on this
floor, and the servants are at the top of the house and in a wing. No one
heard a sound. We have not the remotest idea when the thing happened,
or when she left the place. Dr. Sheef says the man had been dead for six
or eight hours when he first saw him, and that was very soon after
Burton's discovery. Burton, on finding the door open, naturally
suspected that his guests had skipped out during the night to avoid
paying the bill, and lost no time in entering the room.
"He found the man lying on the bed, sprawled out, face upward and as
dead as a mack--I should say, quite dead. He was partly dressed. His
coat and vest hung over the back of a chair. A small service carving
knife, belonging to the inn, had been driven squarely into his heart and
was found sticking there. Burton says that the man, on their arrival at
the inn, about nine o'clock at night, ordered supper sent up to the room.
The tray of dishes, with most of the food untouched, and an empty
champagne bottle, was found on the service table near the hed. One of
the chairs was overturned. The servant who took the meal to the room
says that the woman was sitting at the window with her wraps on,
motor veil and all, just as she was when she came into the place. The
man gave all the directions, the woman apparently paying no attention
to what was going on. The waitress left the room without seeing her
face. She had instructions not to come for the tray until morning.
"That was the last time the man was seen alive. No one has seen the
woman since the door closed after the servant, who distinctly

remembers hearing the key turn in the lock as she went down the hall.
It seems pretty clear that the man ate and drank but not the woman. Her
food remained untouched on the plate and her glass was full. 'Gad, it
must have been a merry feast! I beg your pardon, Mrs. Wrandall!"
"Go on, please," said she levelly.
"That's all there is to say so far as the actual crime is concerned.