The Gold Bag | Page 8

were about. Men stood talking in
groups on the veranda, while messengers were seen hastily coming or
going through the open front doors.

A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large room
The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As I
passed through the wide hall and into the drawing-room, I was
conscious of an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and
judgment.
The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemed
well adapted as a social setting for Joseph Crawford and his family. It
should have been inhabited by men and women in gala dress and with
smiling society manners.
It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to be
a commonplace looking man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit.
He came forward to greet me, and his manner was a trifle pompous as
he announced, "My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think,
are Mr. Burroughs, from New York."
It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination,
but his tone seemed to me amusingly patronizing.
"Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs," I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with
what I hoped was an expression that would assure him that our stations
were at least equal.
I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that he
knew of my reputation as a clever detective, and had especially desired
my attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he
still kept up his air and tone of patronage, which however amused more
than irritated me.
I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and I
knew that he was of a nature to be pleased with his own prominence as
coroner, especially in the case of so important a man as Joseph
Crawford.
So I made allowance for this harmless conceit on his part, and was even
willing to cater to it a little by way of pleasing him. He seemed to me a
man, honest, but slow of thought; rather practical and serious, and
though overvaluing his own importance, yet not opinionated or
stubborn.
"Mr. Burroughs," he said, " I'm very glad you could get here so
promptly; for the case seems to me a mysterious one, and the value of
immediate investigation cannot be overestimated."
"I quite agree with you," I returned. "And now will you tell me the

principal facts, as you know them, or will you depute some one else to
do so?"
"I am even now getting a jury together," he said, "and so you will be
able to hear all that the witnesses may say in their presence. In the
meantime, if you wish to visit the scene of the crime, Mr. Parmalee will
take you there."
At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee stepped forward and was
introduced to me. He proved to be a local detective, a young man who
always attended Coroner Monroe on occasions like the present; but
who, owing to the rarity of such occasions in West Sedgwick, had had
little experience in criminal investigation.
He was a young man of the type often seen among Americans. He was
very fair, with a pink complexion, thin, yellow hair and weak eyes. His
manner was nervously alert, and though he often began to speak with
an air of positiveness, he frequently seemed to weaken, and wound up
his sentences in a floundering uncertainty.
He seemed to be in no way jealous of my presence there, and indeed
spoke to me with an air of comradeship.
Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly resented this. However I
did not show my resentment and endeavored to treat Mr. Parmalee as a
friend and co-worker.
The coroner had left us together, and we stood in the drawing-room,
talking, or rather he talked and I listened. Upon acquaintance he
seemed to grow more attractive. He was impulsive and jumped at
conclusions, but he seemed to have ideas, though they were rarely
definitely expressed.
He told me as much as he knew of the details of the affair and proposed
that we go directly to the scene of the crime.
As this was what I was impatient to do, I consented.
"You see, it's this way," he said, in a confidential whisper, as we
traversed the long hall: "there is no doubt in any one's mind as to who
committed the murder, but no name has been mentioned yet, and
nobody wants to be the first to say that name. It'll come out at the
inquest, of course, and then - "
"But," I interrupted, "if the identity of the murderer is so certain, why
did they send for me in