Jacques Futrelle Short Stories Volume 5 (2 of 83)

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Mystery of the Scarlet Thread (CONT'D)

“Why does he have a light at all?” asked the scientist, testily.

“I can hardly answer that,” replied Hatch. “I may say, however, that he is of a very nervous temperament, and gets up frequently during the night. He reads occasionally when he can�'t sleep. In addition to that he has slept with a light going all his life; it�'s a habit.”

“Go on.”

“One night he looked for the night lamp, but it had disappeared—at least he couldn�'t find it—so he lighted the gas again. The fact of the gas having twice before gone out had been dismissed as a serious possibility. Next morning at five o�'clock a bell boy, passing through the hall, smelled gas and made a quick investigation. He decided it came from Henley�'s place, and rapped on the door. There was no answer. It ultimately developed that it was necessary to smash in the door. There on the bed they found Henley unconscious with the gas pouring into the room from the jet which he had left lighted. He was revived in the air, but for several hours was deathly sick.”

“Why was the door smashed in?” asked The Thinking Machine. “Why not unlocked?”

“It was done because Henley had firmly barred it,” Hatch explained. “He had become suspicious, I suppose, and after the second time he always barred his door and fastened every window before he went to sleep. There may have been a fear that some one used a key to enter.”

“Well?” asked the scientist. “After that?”

“Three weeks or so elapsed, bringing the affair down to this morning,” Hatch went on. “Then the same thing happened a little differently. For instance, after the third time the gas went out Henley decided to find out for himself what caused it, and so expressed himself to a few friends who knew of the mystery. Then, night after night, he lighted the gas as usual and kept watch. It was never disturbed during all that time, burning steadily all night. What sleep he got was in daytime.

“Last night Henley lay awake for a time; then, exhausted and tired, fell asleep. This morning early he awoke; the room was filled with gas again. In some way my city editor heard of it and asked me to look into the mystery.”

That was all. The two men were silent for a long time, and finally The Thinking Machine turned to the reporter.

“Does anyone else in the house keep gas going all night?” he asked.

“I don�'t know,” was the reply. “Most of them, I know, use electricity.”

“Nobody else has been overcome as he has been?”

“No. Plumbers have minutely examined the lighting system all over the house and found nothing wrong.”

“Does the gas in the house all come through the same meter?”

“Yes, so the manager told me. I supposed it possible that some one shut it off there on these nights long enough to extinguish the lights all over the house, then turned it on again. That is, presuming that it was done purposely. Do you think it was an attempt to kill Henley?”

“It might be,” was the reply. “Find out for me just who in the house uses gas; also if anyone else leaves a light burning all night; also what opportunity anyone would have to get at the meter, and then something about Henley�'s love affair with Miss Lipscomb. Is there anyone else? If so, who? Where does he live? When you find out these things come back here.”

• • • • • •

That afternoon at one o�'clock Hatch returned to the apartments of The Thinking Machine, with excitement plainly apparent on his face.

“Well?” asked the scientist.

“A French girl, Louise Regnier, employed as a maid by Mrs. Standing in the house, was found dead in her room on the third floor to-day at noon,” Hatch explained quickly. “It looks like suicide.”

“How?” asked The Thinking Machine.

“The people who employed her—husband and wife—have been away for a couple of days,” Hatch rushed on. “She was in the suite alone. This noon she had not appeared, there was an odor of gas and the door was broken in. Then she was found dead.”

“With the gas turned on?”

“With the gas turned on. She was asphyxiated.”

“Dear me, dear me,” exclaimed the scientist. He arose and took up his hat. “Let�'s go and see what this is all about.”

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