again and stared.
“The fact seems to point that way, Fred, now at least. I’m
going down there yet to-night, though, and I hope to know a
lot more to-morrow. But this Alden girl—they’re the poorest
kind of farm people, you know—worked for Griffiths &
Company in Lycurgus and this nephew, Clyde Griffiths, as I
understand it, is in charge of the department in which she
worked.”
“Tst! Tst! Tst!” interjected the coroner.
“She was home for a month— sick” (he emphasized the
word) “just before she went on this trip last Tuesday. And
during that time she wrote him at least ten letters, and
maybe more. I got that from the rural delivery man. I have
An American Tragedy
767
his affidavit here.” He tapped his coat. “All addressed to
Clyde Griffiths in Lycurgus. I even have his house number.
And the name of the family with whom she lived. I
telephoned down there from Biltz. I’m going to take the old
man with me tonight in case anything comes up that he
might know about.”
“Yes, yes, Orville. I understand. I see. But a Griffithst” And
once more he clucked with his tongue.
“But what I want to talk to you about is the inquest,” now
went on Mason quickly and sharply. “You know I’ve been
thinking that it couldn’t have been just because he didn’t
want to marry her that he wanted to kill her. That doesn’t
seem reasonable to me,” and he added the majority of the
thoughts that had caused him to conclude that Roberta was
pregnant. And at once Heit agreed with him.
“Well, then that means an autopsy,” Mason resumed. “As
well as medical opinion as to the nature of those wounds.
We’ll have to know beyond a shadow of a doubt, Fred, and
before that body is taken away from here, whether that girl
was killed before she was thrown out of that boat, or just
stunned and then thrown out, or the boat upset. That’s very
vital to the case, as you know. We’ll never be able to do
anything unless we’re positive about those things. But what
about the medical men around here? Do you think any of
them will be able to do all these things in a shipshape way
so that what they say will hold water in court.”
Mason was dubious. Already he was building his case.
“Well, as to that, Orville,” Heit replied slowly, “I can’t say
exactly. You’d be a better judge, maybe, than I would. I’ve
already asked Dr. Mitchell to step over to-morrow and take
a look at her. Also Betts. But if there’s any other doctor
An American Tragedy
768
you’d rather have—Bavo or Lincoln of Coldwater—how
about Bavo?”
“I’d rather have Webster, of Utica,” went on Mason, “or
Beemis, or both. Four or five opinions in a case like this
won’t be any too many.”
And Heit, sensing the importance of the great responsibility
now resting on him, added: “Well, I guess you’re right,
Orville. Maybe four or five would be better than one or two.
That means, though, that the inquest will have to be
postponed for a day or two more, till we get these men
here.”
“Quite right! Quite right,” went on Mason, “but that will be a
good thing, too, as long as I’m going down to Lycurgus to-
night to see what I can find out. You never can tell. I may
catch up with him. I hope so, anyhow, or if not that, then I
may come upon something that’ll throw some extra light on
this. For this is going to be a big thing, Fred. I can see that—
the most difficult case that ever came my way, or yours,
either,—and we can’t be too careful as to how we move
from now on. He’s likely to be rich, you see, and if he is he’ll
fight. Besides there’s that family down there to back him up.”
He ran a nervous hand through his shock of hair, then
added: “Well, that’s all right too. The next thing to do is to
get Beemis and Webster of Utica—better wire them to-
night, eh, or call them up. And Sprull of Albany, and then, to
keep peace in the family around here, perhaps we’d better
have Lincoln and Betts over here. And maybe Bavo.” He
permitted himself the faintest shadow of a smile. “In the
meantime, I’ll be going along, Fred. Arrange to have them
come up Monday or Tuesday, instead of to-morrow. I
expect to be back by then and if so I can be with you. If you
can, better get ’em up here, Monday—see—the quicker the
better—and we’ll see what we know by then.”
An American Tragedy
769
He went to a drawer to secure some extra writs. And then
into the outer room to explain to Alden the trip that was
before him. And to have Burleigh call up his wife, to whom
he explained the nature of his work and haste and that he
might not be back before Monday.
And all the way down to Utica, which took three hours, as
well as a wait of one hour before a train for Lycurgus could
be secured, and an additional hour and twenty minutes on
that train, which set them down at about seven, Orville
Mason was busy extracting from the broken and gloomy
Titus, as best he could, excerpts from his own as well as
Roberta’s humble past—her generosity, loyalty, virtue,
sweetness of heart, and the places and conditions under
which previously she had worked, and what she had
received, and what she had done with the money—a
humble story which he was quite able to appreciate.
Arriving at Lycurgus with Titus by his side, he made his way
as quickly as possible to the Lycurgus House, where he
took a room for the father in order that he might rest. And
after that to the office of the local district attorney, from
whom he must obtain authority to proceed, as well as an
officer who would execute his will for him here. And then
being supplied with a stalwart detective in plain clothes, he
proceeded to Clyde’s room in Taylor Street, hoping against
hope that he might find him there. But Mrs. Peyton
appearing and announcing that Clyde lived there but that at
present he was absent (having gone the Tuesday before to
visit friends at Twelfth Lake, she believed), he was rather
painfully compelled to announce, first, that he was the
district attorney of Cataraqui County, and, next, that
because of certain suspicious circumstances in connection
with the drowning of a girl in Big Bittern, with whom they
had reason to believe that Clyde was at the time, they
An American Tragedy
770
would now be compelled to have access to his room, a
statement which so astonished Mrs. Peyton that she fell
back, an expression of mixed amazement, horror, and
unbelief overspreading her features.
“Not Mr. Clyde Griffiths! Oh, how ridiculous! Why, he’s the
nephew of Mr. Samuel Griffiths and very well known here.
I’m sure they can tell you all about him at their residence, if
you must know. But anything like—oh, impossible!” And
she looked at both Mason and the local detective who was
already displaying his official badge, as though she doubted
both their honesty and authority.
At the same time, the detective, being all too familiar with
such circumstances, had already placed himself beyond
Mrs. Peyton at the foot of the stairs leading to the floor
above. And Mason now drew from his pocket a writ of
search, which he had been careful to secure.
“I am sorry, Madam, but I am compelled to ask you to show
us his room. This is a search warrant and this officer is here
at my direction.” And at once struck by the futility of
contending with the law, she now nervously indicated
Clyde’s room, feeling still that some insane and most unfair
and insulting mistake was being made.
But the two having proceeded to Clyde’s room, they began
to look here and there. At once both noted one small and
not very strong trunk, locked and standing in one corner,
which Mr. Faunce, the detective, immediately began to lift
to decide upon its weight and strength, while Mason began
to examine each particular thing in the room—the contents
of all drawers and boxes, as well as the pockets of all
clothes. And in the chiffonier drawers, along with some
discarded underwear and shirts and a few old invitations
from the Trumbulls, Starks, Griffiths, and Harriets, he now
found a memorandum sheet which Clyde had carried home
An American Tragedy
771
from his desk and on which he had written: “Wednesday,
Feb. 20th, dinner at Starks”—and below that, “Friday, 22nd,
Trumbulls”—and this handwriting Mason at once compared
with that on the card in his pocket, and being convinced by
the similarity that he was in the room of the right man, he