The Darrow Enigma by Melvin Linwood Severy


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Page 63

George glanced hastily up at the house and then said, as he seized
me impatiently by the arm: "It's a tenement house; come on, the
chase is not up yet; we, too, must go in!"

So in we went. The young lady had disappeared, but as we entered
we heard a door close on the floor above, and felt sure we knew
where she had gone. We mounted the stairs as noiselessly as
possible and listened in the hall. We could distinguish a woman's
voice and occasionally that of a man, but we could not hear what
passed between them. On our right there was a door partly ajar.
Maitland pushed it open, and looked in. The room was empty and
unfurnished, with the exception of a dilapidated stove which stood
against the partition separating this room from the one the young
lady had entered. Maitland beckoned to me and I followed him into
the room. There was a key on the inside of the door which he
noiselessly turned in the lock. He then began to investigate the
premises. Three other rooms communicated with the one of which we
had taken possession, forming, evidently, a suite which had been
let for housekeeping. Everything was in ill-repair, as is the
case with most of the cheap tenements in this locality. The
previous tenant had not thought it necessary to clean the apartments
when quitting them,--for altruism does not flourish at the North
End,--but had been content to leave all the dirt for the next
occupant.

When we had finished reconnoitering we returned to the room we first
entered, which apparently was the kitchen. We could still hear
the voices, but not distinctly. "Do you stay here, Doc," whispered
Maitland, "while I get into some old clothes and hunt up the
landlord of this place. I'm going to rent these rooms long enough
to acquaint myself with my neighbours on the other side of the wall.
I'll be back soon. Don't let any man leave that room without your
knowing where he goes." With this he left me and I soon found a
way to busy myself in his absence. In the wall above the stove,
where the pipe passed through the partition into our neighbour's
apartment, there was a chink large enough to permit me, when
mounted upon the stove, to overlook the greater part of the adjacent
room. I availed myself of this privilege, though not without those
same twinges of conscience which I had felt some minutes before
when following the young lady. The apartment was poorly furnished,
and yet, despite this scantiness of appointment, there was
unmistakable evidence of refinement. Everything visible in the
room was scrupulously neat and the few pictures that adorned the
walls, while they were inexpensive half-tones, were yet reproductions
of masterpieces. In the centre of the room stood a small, deal
table, on the opposite side of which sat the man who had answered my
letter.

At one end of the table, poised upon the back of a chair, sat a
small Capucin monkey of the Weeper or Sai species. He watched the
man with that sober, judicial air which is by no means confined
exclusively to supreme benches. I, too, observed the man carefully.
He was tall and spare. He must have measured nearly six feet in
height and could not, I think, have weighed over one hundred and
fifty pounds. His face was pinched and careworn, but this effect
was more than redeemed by a pair of full, black eyes having a depth
and penetration I have never seen equalled, albeit there was, ever
and anon, a suggestion of wildness which somewhat marred their deep,
contemplative beauty. The brows and the carriage of the head at
once bespoke the scholar. While thus I watched him, the young girl
came from a corner of the room I could not overlook and laid my
letter before him. She stood behind his chair as he opened it,
smoothing his hair caressingly and, every now and then, kissing him
gently. He paused with the open letter before him, reached up both
arms, drew her down to him, kissed her passionately, sighed, and
picked up the letter again. I took pains that no act, word, or look
should escape me. This show of affection surprised me, and I
remember the thought flashed through my mind, "What inconsistent
beings we all are! Here is a man apparently capable of a causeless
and cold-blooded assassination of a harmless old man. You would
say such a murderer must be hopelessly selfish and brutal, amenable
to none of the better sentiments of mankind, and yet it needs but
a casual glance to see how his whole life is bound up in the young
girl before him."

While this was passing through my mind the man had glanced through
my letter and thrown it upon the table with an exclamation of
disgust. "Bah! he has had the effrontery," he said petulantly, "to
send me what he calls a new mode of treatment and it is in every
essential that of Broadbent, well known for more than a quarter of
a century. New indeed! I shall never find a doctor who has any
scientific acumen. I may as well abandon the search now. Mon Dieu!
and they call medicine a science! Bah!" and with a frown he dropped
his head despondently upon his hand. The young girl passed her hand
gently, soothingly, over his forehead and did not speak for nearly
a minute.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Wed 3rd Dec 2025, 18:19