The Room Under the Stairs

Sun (Auckland), Volume III, Issue 858, 30 December 1929, Page 5

The Room Under the Stairs

The Baffling Story of a Man Who Read of His Own Murder.

By

Herman Landon

Copyright by G. Howard Walt.

Serialised by Ledger Syndicate.

CHAPTER XlX.—Continued. “Miss Lamont lias asked you a question,” the lawyer reminded him. “Will you tell her where you were when j her father was murdered?” i “Gladly,” said Dean, a strange ! calm sweeping over him in the wake I Of the blinding flash that had just i come to him. “f heard the shot distinctly. When it rang out, I was in the stairway between the second and the third floors. Dr. Ballinger and you, Mr. Littleby, were talking on the balcony. I heard my name mentioned and couldn't see any harm 1 in listening in on a conversation that concerned my humble self. Shall I detail what 1 heard, Mr. Littleby?” “You needn't,” said the lawyer dryly. “I recall that your name came up in a casual way in a chat I had with Dr. Ballinger. The details wouldn’t interest Miss Lamont, It is quite possible that you heard a part of our conversation. We talked for twenty minutes or so, if I remember correctly. However, it is only a lew steps from the stairway to the room Lamont occupied. You could reach it in less than a minute.” “True,” admitted Dean, grasping the implication, “but I had not moved from my position in the stairway when the shot was fired.”

The lawyer smiled, a sad, indulgent smile. “Miss Lamont may be satisfied with that statement, but I fear it would fail to convince a hard-headed jury. But we shall let that pass for the present. Perhaps Miss Lamont would be interested to know -what explanation you can give for trespassing in another man’s house.”

“I can satisfy Miss Lamont on that point, but first I would like to know if I am under suspicion.” The lawyer made a deprecatory gesture with his hand. “Oh, I wouldn't say that, but the matter has a certain relevancy in view of something Lamont told me a day or two ago. He believed very strongly that a certain person was interested in hastening liis death, and that person was you.” “So Miss Lamont has told me. You are right, Littleby. I owe Miss Lamont an explanation. I came to this house to have a talk with Miss Farnham. Dr. Ballinger had suggested to me that she might enlighten me on certain points. I entered in the. approved fashion, ringing the bell and being admitted by a servant. I told her I had come to see Miss Farnham and could find my way up without being shown.” “Ahem, yes,” murmured the lawyer, with a significant glance in Miss Lamont’s direction. “I went up, knocked on the door, but no one answered,” Dean went on. He looked as if he found the recital rather boring, but his voice carried a faint note of excitement. “Finally I went in. Apparently the nurse had just stepped out, for Lamont was alone in the room. He was sitting upright in bed, with the telephone receiver at his ear, in a state of tremendous excitement. I could see that he was listening to something that disturbed him inexpressibly.” Dean paused. Miss Lamont, who had remained standing, looked as if she were about to fall, and he conducted her to a chair, meanwhile watching the lawyer askaYice. At the turn the narrative had taken, Littleby’s face had suddenly lost something of its

mournful sublimity, its sorrowful calm, taking on instead a look of - growing distress. I “Most remarkable,” he mumbled, i trying to give a sceptical emphasis to his tone. . s “It was,” Dean assented. “Seeing ) that Lamont’s excitement was ap- : Proaching the danger point, I took the • resist the temptation to find out what : receiver from him. Naturally, I couldn’t ; was affecting him so tremendously, so ' 1 P u t the receiver to my ear and listened. I don’t wonder that he was terrified.” Miss Lamont leaned back in her chair, her lips tightly compressed, her eyes partly closed, looking as if the narrative liad conjured up a terrifying scene in her imagination. Littleby, now and then clearing his throat ineffectually, seemed momentarily on the point of interrupting. “What X heard,” said Dean, drawling out the words, w r as—a succession of screams. “They were awful! Never heard anything like them. I couldn’t imagine where they came from or who was uttering them—but I think I can now What’s the matter, Littleby? Not feeling well?” “It’s nothing,” said Littleby, hoarsely, essaying a sickly smile of scepticism. “You are always diverting, Dean, when you exercise your imagination. Makes me feel shivery all over. Go on.” “I have nothing more to tell, except that I took your hospitality for granted and remained in the house in the i hope of locating the origin of the i screams. I am still mystified, but ] perhaps Miss Lamont will give us i the explanation. You raised those < cries, didn*t you, Miss Lamont?” The lawyer gave a husk}’, incredul- i ous laugh. j Miss Lamont looked as if the ques- i tion had roused her from a deep and j troubled reverie. She raised her head, but her eyes were fixed on an indefi- ] nite point in space. Instead of j answering Dean's question, she asked another;—“Did you say, Mr. Dean, , that the nurse was out when you entered father’s bedroom?” “She was, Miss Lamont.” “And father was sitting upright in t bed with the receiver to his ear?” i “Exactly.” “And when you took it away from 1 him, and put it to your own ear, you l heard a scream— screams.” l “Yes, aud they were dreadful ones, i Miss Lamont.” c She sat lost in thought for a 1 moment, unaware of Hie mocking c glance Littleby levelled in her diree- t tion.

“Perhaps I should remind you. Miss Lamont,” said the lawyer insinuatingly, “that our friend Dean is a novelist and has a novelist's imagination. There is another question yon might ask him. See if he will "tell us why, after leaving Dr. Ballinger, the nurse and myself in your father’s room, he went out of his way to create the impression that lie was leaving the house by slamming the outer door, while as a matter of fact he remained inside.” The girl, absorbed ill her own problems, paid him no attention. She got up from the chair, and now there was no sign of weakness or hesitation in her movements. She walked direct to where Littleby sat and looked steadily into his eyes.'

STRAIGHT FROM THE SHOULDER “I think I understand now,” she declared firmly. “It was all a hideous conspiracy. Everything is motive m e—everything but the motive. And you arranged everything, Mr. Littleby. Y r ou did it so cleverly that I never suspected anything until this moment. What a beast you are!” , LUUeffiy gave her a long, virtuous look deigning no answer, but gazing at the young woman as if trying to contro l his temper in the face of an I 1 unw °rthy accusation. Dean change or w f ond( ; r at Her sudden etiange of front, asking himself whether her woman’s intuition had been at work or whether the strange statement she had just made was a m y b 4 e UlSatl ° n ° f kn °wiedge already m hei possession, but whose slgnifiWhif le , had not reali sed until now saw was stlU marvelling, he saw a spasm pass across her face It hardened, grew darker, and a vehement flame seemed to flash from back 6 a 6B I 1 " 10 Li . ttleb y' s - She drew ba , *, step ’ rai sed herself a little and the words she spoke sounded as tibie I 'force. 10m lips by aa declared 11 “/h th ° Se ° thei ' thln S s " she aeelai ed, then you did the rest, too You killed my father!” ’ ’ Littleby gave a violent start An ugly sneer appeared on his lips it vanished almost instantly. ’

“loti are hysterical, my clear chilri ” he murmured soothingly. “You don’t understand" 4 ™yi„g Bu? J In a li«le d wiTi are not responsible. in a little while you will regret vour hasty words. There, now—” She waved him aside as he rose and tried to take her hand and ..v 130 ?’ 1 come near me!” she cried T oa have deceived me long enough You are a murderer. I see murdeiAn £e gun e t S on A ? d tUen y ° U tried to sh/it you monster!” “ mnoceilt “an. Oh, She was beside herself, bur. Littlebv’s suavity only grew more pronemneed af hL r heT ot n°e nS mounted S‘’„ He argued with her as one child. 4 “ Ue Wlth au unreasonable f aren’t you just a little uniau . Haven t you forgotten what your lather said, that a certain person who is now in tins room would be to blame it be should come to a sudden end’” “Don’t speak of my. father! You killed him, and now you are adding insult to your crime. I believe you deceived father just as you deceived men, and then, when you found you couldn t deceive him any longer, you murdered him.” Littleby’s face darkened, expressing the resentment a righteous mail might, feel at repeated slanders. "I see you are. in no condition to listen to arguments,” he said with dignity, “but I shall give you just one more before I leave you to think the matter over. Dean has been good enough to provide me with an alibi. He has told you that I was engaged in conversation with Dr. Ballinger when the shot was fired. If you ask Dr. Bal-

| linger, I am sure he will support the statement.She gave him a long, doubting look, then turned aside, her figure drooping as tf the ebb of her emotions had left her exhausted. * pL, I don’t care,” she mumbled biokenly. “I know!” Then, turning to Dean: “If you can forgive me for what I said a while ago, take me away at once—anywhere.” “Come,” said Dean eagerly, holding out his hand and instinctively squaring his shoulders, for he had noted a quick change in Littleby’s expression. With a pathetic trustfulness that touched his heart, she placed her hand in his. It was cold and moist, and quivered like a frightened bird. With a sidelong glance over his shoulder he led her toward the door, momentarily expecting a show of opposition. But none came. He saw Littleby

rise from his chair and stroll casually toward the centre of the room, and for a moment he was struck by the peculiar smile, reflecting a sort of serene malevolence, that hovered about the lawyer’s lips. He tried to erase the unpleasant impression from nis mind as, with the girl beside him, lie crossed the little vestibule outside the room. While she watched him in wonder he reached up a hand and pressed a point on the wall almost level with his head. He pressed again and again, and gradually a look of bafflement came into his face. "Something wrong?" he muttered. “It worked all right before, butnow ” He paused and glanced through the open hall door into the room where they had left Littleby. Eyes widening, lie moved forward a few steps and swept the room with a startled glance. The lawyer was gone.

CHAPTER XX. TRAPPED! "Gone!” exclaimed Dean dully, again searching the room with an incredulous stare. “How strange!” remarked Miss Laniont, coming up behind him. “He was here a moment ago, and this seems to be the only way out. Nobody can disappear like that.” Dean smiled mirthlessly at the paradoxical observation. Littleby’s parting smile, illegible and yet sinister, was still tantalising his imagination. Without a word he recrossed the little hall and repeated his attempt but after a few efforts he was forced to admit that it was useless. The girl scanned his anxious face in perplexity. "There’s a spring hidden in the woodwork up there that controls the mechanism of the door,” he explained. “At least it did a while ago. Littleby must have done something to it when he stole in,on us. Anyhow, it refuses to work.” “Meaning that we are trapped?” suggested Miss Lamont. “Meaning that we shall have to find another way out,” Dean amended, leading her back through the hall into the large hexagonal room. For twenty minutes he searched unceasingly for a concealed opening, but without success. At length he stood aside, surveying the imposing walls, with their faded decorations of a once gaudy hue, with a critical eye. It was a curious room in many respects, aud it contrasted sharply with the • ponderous sedateness and stuffy conventionality of the rest of the house. “What I don’t see,” remarked Dean, “is how Littleby did the vanishing stunt so suddenly behind our backs.” “Neither do I.” With now and then a little shudder in her glance, as if the sight awakened a series of horrors in her recollection*! she surveyed the four walls of the room. “But I sup-

pose anything can happen in this place.” It sounded significant, but Dean held back the question that came to his mind. Explanations could wait until a more appropriate time. For the present it gave him a gentle thrill to observe how confidently she accepted his companionship in this new predicament. Yet, only a little, while ago, she had seemed firmly convinced that he was her father’s murderer. The swift transitions of her mind, suggesting either a keen intuition or else a deep understanding of mysteries, that to him were still unexplored fields, were at once astounding and fascinating. “I wonder what Mr. Littleby intends to do with us,” she remarked after he had made another unavailing attempt to find a way out. “Keep us here, I suppose, until he has had time to consider the situation.” Dean spoke lightly, but Littleby’s parting smile as it lingered in his imagination filled him with dark doubts. “You gave him quite, a jolt when you accused him of murdering your father. But you were wrong there, Miss Lamont. Whatever other villainies he may be guilty of, he didn’t do that. He was not more than seven or eight feet from me when the shot was fired.” “Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake? Couldn’t it have been somebody else than Mr. Littleby?” “Not a chance of that. I recognised his voice distinctly. Not only that, but I saw his face clearly when he and Dr. Ballinger stepped away from the balcony. N'o, there isn’t the

slightest doubt on that point, and Dr. Ballinger will doubtless confirm what I say.” She pondered for a moment, then shook her head in a charmingly obstinate way. “Yet 1 feel he did it. 1 am almost as sure as if I had seen blood on his hands. It came to me all of a sudden, while we three were talking together. It was just like a flash, revealing everything.” “Everything?” eachoed Dean, absently, wondering if such a thing were possible. For a moment his hand fumbled mechanically along the right side of his neck. “Well, in a sense you may be right. Littleby may have instigated the crime, but under the circumstances it would have been a physical impossibility for him to execute it in person.” Again she shook her head in a determined way, her blue eyes brimming with a strange obsession. “I can’t help it. I just know that he did it himself. I stood quite close to him for a minute or so while we were talking together. I had the most dreadful sensation, but I can’t quite explain it. It was just an overpowering feeling that I was standing in the presence of some one who had taken human life—with his own hands.” Dean regarded her in astonishment. The simple statement rang with a conviction that seemed to transcend all the argumenls of logic and reason. Though he knew that the lawyer could not have murdered Lamont. for the moment he was gripped and swayed by the contagion of her firm belief. "And that isn’t all.” she went on. “I felt that Mr. Littleby meant to kill me, too. I could feel it when he was

looking at me. It lasted only a moment, while we held each other s eyes, but it was enough. He was afraid of me. He knew that I knew.” "That you knew what?” A tremor passed over her, then her glance moved to the telephone. Her expression told him that the instrument was in some way connected with, the answer she was framing in her mind, but to himself it suggested a more practical idea. It was just possible that Littleby had neglected to switch it off from outside connections. If so, it should not be difficult to summon help. He stepped to the rear j of the room, put the receiver to his ear, but a dead and prolonged silence : told him it had been a forlorn hope. “That: you knew what?” he re* peated, anxious to divert her mind from tlielr predicament.