He slightly moved the table-lamp in order to direct
its light upon the white face. The bloodless
lips were parted and the detective bent, closely peering
at the teeth thus revealed.
“Her teeth were oddly discolored, doctor,”
he said, taking out a magnifying glass and examining
them closely. “They had been recently scaled,
too; so that she was not in the habit of neglecting
them.”
Dr. Cumberly nodded.
“The drug habit, again,” he said guardedly;
“a proper examination will establish the full
facts.”
The inspector added brief notes to those already made,
ere he rose from beside the body. Then:—
“You are absolutely certain,” he said,
deliberately, facing Leroux, “that you had never
set eyes on this woman prior to her coming here, to-night?”
“I can swear it!” said Leroux.
“Good!” replied the detective, and closed
his notebook with a snap. “Usual formalities
will have to be gone through, but I don’t think
I need trouble you, gentlemen, any further, to-night.”
DOCTORS DIFFER
Dr. Cumberly walked slowly upstairs to his own flat,
a picture etched indelibly upon his mind, of Henry
Leroux, with a face of despair, sitting below in his
dining-room and listening to the ominous sounds proceeding
from the study, where the police were now busily engaged.
In the lobby he met his daughter Helen, who was waiting
for him in a state of nervous suspense.
“Father!” she began, whilst rebuke died
upon the doctor’s lips—“tell
me quickly what has happened.”
Perceiving that an explanation was unavoidable, Dr.
Cumberly outlined the story of the night’s gruesome
happenings, whilst Big Ben began to chime the hour
of one.
Helen, eager-eyed, and with her charming face rather
pale, hung upon every word of the narrative.
“And now,” concluded her father, “you
must go to bed. I insist.”
“But father!” cried the girl—“there
is some thing"...
She hesitated, uneasily.
“Well, Helen, go on,” said the doctor.
“I am afraid you will refuse.”
“At least give me the opportunity.”
“Well—in the glimpse, the half-glimpse,
which I had of her, I seemed"...
Dr. Cumberly rested his hands upon his daughter’s
shoulders characteristically, looking into the troubled
gray eyes.
“You don’t mean,” he began...
“I thought I recognized her!” whispered
the girl.
“Good God! can it be possible?”
“I have been trying, ever since, to recall where
we had met, but without result. It might mean
so much"...
Dr. Cumberly regarded her, fixedly.
“It might mean so much to—Mr. Leroux.
But I suppose you will say it is impossible?”
“It is impossible,” said Dr. Cumberly
firmly; “dismiss the idea, Helen.”
“But father,” pleaded the girl, placing
her hands over his own, “consider what is at
stake"...
