The Paternoster Ruby | Page 6

"Let's have it, nevertheless."
"About one o'clock last night I had just completed sorting some papers
in my room. They had been in a file-case so long that they were very
dusty; so when I was through I went to the bath-room--one door from
mine--to wash my hands, and while I was so engaged I was startled by
a crash, as of some one falling heavily outside.
"I picked up my candle, and looked into the hall. At first I saw nothing,
and everything was perfectly quiet; but in a moment I noticed that an
étagère, which had always stood at the head of the stairs, was tipped
forward against the banisters, and at the same time I heard Mr. Maillot
moving about in his room. I was much perplexed to account for such a

disturbance at that hour of the night, and for a time I stood motionless,
waiting to see what would occur next. I admit that I was even
somewhat frightened; but as nothing else happened, I crossed over to
Mr. Maillot's door--directly opposite my own--and rapped.
"He threw it open at once. He was holding a hand to his right eye, and
glared at me with the uncovered eye. He evidently had slipped hastily
into his clothes; his candle was lighted, and I noticed that his hands and
face were wet, as if he too had been washing."
"It strikes me that there was an unusual amount of hand-washing," I
here observed, "considering the hour of night. Had the household
retired?"
"Why--yes, sir--we were supposed to have done so. But Mr. Maillot at
once explained why his hands were wet. As he threw open the door,
which he did in an angry manner, he asked me what the devil was the
matter. I replied that I did n't know. He then stated that he thought the
roof had caved in; that the tumult had awakened him, and that in
springing out of bed he had nearly knocked an eye out by colliding
with some piece of furniture. The pain was for a moment so intense, he
said, that he had forgotten all about the noise; so he had lighted a
candle and bathed the injured eye. It was already beginning to swell
and show signs of discoloration. On my remarking that it was strange
the noise hadn't roused Mr. Page, Mr. Maillot at once seized his candle
and preceded me into the hall. He was the first to find Mr. Page's body.
"So far as we could determine, he was quite dead. Mr. Maillot at once
warned me not to molest anything--he 's a lawyer, I believe--and we
agreed that I should notify the police while he remained to guard the
house."
Such was Burke's story of the midnight tragedy. Further questioning
elicited the assertion that he was utterly unable to account for Maillot's
presence in the house; that he had never seen him before, and that he
was sure the young man's call had been unexpected by Mr. Page, as the
latter had, the last thing the previous evening at his office, instructed
Burke to procure a number of specified papers from the file-case, and

bring them to the house after supper.
Burke believed it to have been his employer's intention to go through
these documents with him, for the purpose of selecting certain ones
which had to do with a contemplated business trip to Duluth; but
Maillot had arrived about seven o'clock, and he and Mr. Page had at
once repaired to the library, where they remained until after eleven
o'clock.
Burke had busied himself with other matters until convinced that, as his
employer had doubtless given over the Duluth journey, his services
would not be required; whereupon he had retired to his own room.
Such minor details were added: the only servant was a woman who
came to the house of mornings, and departed before the master went
down-town; there was no telephone in the house; and the millionaire's
"eccentricities" included, among other things, a preference for candles
over any other means of artificial illumination, and a strong
disinclination to consume any more fuel than was absolutely necessary.
Learning that the woman servant was at that very moment in the house,
I speedily saw to it that a rousing fire was kindled upon every hearth
and in every stove; nor were they allowed to die out, as long as I
remained beneath the roof. Felix Page would have no further use for his
coal and kindling.
When Burke returned from discharging this errand, I continued my
questioning.
"So it had been Mr. Page's intention to go to Duluth last night, eh?
What for?"
"I don't know. About vessels or his wheat shipments, I suppose;
something too important to entrust to the mail or telegraph."
"Did