There was some snow and he slid easy. He was lookin" about all the time like he wasn"t anxious to be seen. Well, boss, he never seen me, and he never seen no one else, so he dropped off, kind of givin" himself a shove out from the eaves, and fetched up against White"s woodshed. He was pantin" like he"d run a mile, and I heard him say in a whisper, "Oh, my G.o.d!"--just like that,--"Oh, my G.o.d!"" The handy-man paused with this grotesque mimicry of terror.
"And then?" prompted Moxlow, in the breathless silence.
"And then he took off up the alley as if all h.e.l.l was whoopin" after him!"
Again Montgomery"s ragged cap served him in lieu of a handkerchief, and as he swabbed his blotched and purple face he shot a swift furtive glance in Gilmore"s direction. So far he had told only the truth, but he was living in terror of Moxlow"s next question.
"Can you describe the man who crossed the roof,--for instance, how was he dressed?" said Moxlow, with slow deliberation.
"He had on a derby hat and a dark overcoat," answered Montgomery after a moment"s pause.
He was speaking for Gilmore now, and his grimy lists closed convulsively about the arms of his chair.
"Did you see his face?" asked Moxlow.
"Yes--" the monosyllable was spoken unwillingly, but with a kind of dogged resolution.
"Was it a face you knew?"
Montgomery looked at Gilmore, whose fierce insistent glance was bent compellingly on him. The recollection of the gambler"s threats and promises flashed through his mind.
"Was it a face you knew?" repeated Moxlow.
The handy-man gave him a sudden glare.
"Yes," he said in a throaty whisper.
"How could you tell in the dark?"
[Ill.u.s.tration: "Then I seen a man"s derby hat come over the edge of the shed."]
"It wasn"t so terrible dark, with the snow on the ground. And I was so close to him I could have put an apple in his pocket," Joe explained.
"Who was the man?" asked Moxlow.
"I thought he looked like John North," said Montgomery.
There was the silence of death in the room.
"You thought it was John North?" began Moxlow.
"Yes."
"When he spoke, you thought you recognized North"s voice?"
"Yes."
"Were you sure?"
"I was pretty sure, boss--"
"Only pretty sure?"
"I thought it was Mr. North,--it looked like Mr. North, and I thought it was him,--I thought so then and I think so now," said Montgomery desperately.
"Are you willing to swear positively that it was John North?" demanded Moxlow.
"No--" said the handy-man, "No,--I only say I thought it was John North.
He looked like John North, and I thought it was John North,--I"d have said it was John North, but it all happened in a minute. I wasn"t thinkin" I"d ever have to say who it was I seen on the shed!"
"But your first distinct impression was that it was John North?"
"Yes."
"You have known John North for years?"
"All his life."
"Had you seen him recently?"
"I seen him Thanksgiving day along about four o"clock crossing the Square."
"How was he dressed, did you notice?"
"He was dressed like the man in the alley,--he had on a black derby hat and a dark brown overcoat."
"That"s all," said Moxlow quietly.
The coroner and the jury drew aside and began a whispered consultation.
In the vitiated atmosphere of that overcrowded room, heavy as it was with the stifling heat and palpably dense with the escaping smoke from the cracked wood-stove, men coughed nervously with every breath they drew, but their sense of physical discomfort was unheeded in their tense interest in the developments of the last few moments. The jury"s deliberation was brief and then the coroner announced its verdict.
North heard the doctor"s halting words without at once grasping their meaning. A long moment of silence followed, and then a man coughed, and then another, and another; this seemed to break the spell, for suddenly the room buzzed with eager whisperings.
North"s first definite emotion was one of intense astonishment. Were they mad? But the faces turned toward him expressed nothing beyond curiosity. His glance shifted to the official group by the table. These good-natured commonplace men who, whether they liked him or not, had invariably had a pleasant word for him, instantly took on an air of grim aloofness. Conklin, the fat jolly sheriff; the coroner; Moxlow, the prosecuting attorney in his baggy trousers and seam-shining coat,--why, he had known these men all his life, he had met them daily,--what did they mean by suspecting him! The mere suspicion was a monstrous wrong!
His face reddened; he glanced about him haughtily.
Now at a sign from the coroner, Conklin placed his fat hands on the arms of his chair and slowly drew himself out of its depths, then he crossed to North. The young fellow rose, and turned a pale face toward him.
"John," said the sheriff gently, "I have an unpleasant duty to perform."
In spite of himself the pallor deepened on North"s face.
"I understand," he said in a voice that was low and none too steady.
During this scene Moxlow"s glance had been centered on North in a fixed stare of impersonal curiosity, now he turned with quick nervous decision and s.n.a.t.c.hing up his shabby hat from the table, left the room.
Langham had preceded him by a few moments, escaping un.o.bserved when there were eyes only for North.
"I am ready, Conklin."