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<h2>CHAPTER NINE</h2> <h3>THE STAR WITNESS</h3> It was between nine and ten o'clock when Marshall Langham reached his office. He scarcely had time to remove his hat and overcoat when a policeman entered the room and handed him a note. It was a hasty scrawl from Moxlow who wished him to come at once to the court-house. As Moxlow's messenger quitted the room Langham leaned against his desk with set lips and drawn face; this was but the beginning of the ordeal through which he must pass! Then slowly he resumed his hat and overcoat. The prosecuting attorney's office was on the second floor of the court-house, at the back of the building, and its windows overlooked the court-house yard. On the steps and in the long corridors, men stood about, discussing the murder. Langham pushed his way resolutely through these groups and mounted the stairs. Moxlow's door was locked, as he found when he tried to open it, but in response to his knock a bolt was drawn and a policeman swung open the door, closing it the instant Marshall had entered. Langham glanced around. Doctor Taylor—the coroner—was seated before the desk; aside from this official Colonel Harbison, Andy Gilmore, Shrimplin, Moxlow, Mr. Allison, the mayor, Conklin, the sheriff, and two policemen were present. "Thank you, that is all, Mr. Gilmore," the coroner had said as Langham entered the room. He turned and motioned one of the policemen to place a chair for the prosecuting attorney beside his own at the desk. "As you know, Mr. Moxlow," the coroner began, "these gentlemen, Mr. Shrimplin, Colonel Harbison and Mr. Gilmore, were the first to view the murdered man. Later I was summoned, and with the sheriff spent the greater part of the night in making an examination of the building. We found no clue. The murderer had gone without leaving any trace of his passing. It is probable he entered by the front door, which Mr. Shrimplin found open, and left by the side door, which was also open, but the crowd gathered so quickly both in the yard and in the street, that it has been useless to look for footprints in the freshly fallen snow. One point is quite clear, however, and that is the hour when the crime was committed. We can fix that almost to a certainty. The murderer did his work between half past five and six o'clock. Mr. Shrimplin has just informed us that the only person he saw on the Square, until he met Colonel Harbison, was John North, whom he encountered within a block of McBride's store and with whom he spoke. While Mr. Shrimplin stopped to speak with Mr. North the town bell rang the hour—six o'clock." The coroner paused. There was a moment's silence, then Marshall Langham made a half step forward. A sudden palsy had seized him, yet he was determined to speak; he felt that he must be heard, that he had something vital to say. An impulse he could not control compelled him to turn in the direction of Andy Gilmore, and for a brief instant his eyes fastened themselves on the gambler, who returned his gaze with a cynical smile, as though to say: "You haven't the nerve to do it." With the tip of his tongue Langham moistened his swollen lips. He was about to speak now, and Gilmore, losing his former air of bored indifference, leaned forward, eager to catch every word. "I would like to say," he began in a tolerably steady voice, "that North left my office at half past four o'clock yesterday afternoon intending to see Mr. McBride; indeed, happening to glance from my window, I saw him enter the store. Before he left my office he had explained the business that was taking him to McBride's; we had discussed it at some length." "What took him to McBride's?" demanded Doctor Taylor. "He went there to raise money on some local gas company bonds which he owned. Mr. McBride had agreed to buy them from him. I was able to tell North that I knew McBride could let him have the money in spite of the fact that it was a holiday and the banks were closed." "How did you happen to know that, Langham?" asked Moxlow. "Earlier in the day one of my clients had placed in McBride's hand a much larger sum of money than North expected to receive from him." "You told North that?" asked Moxlow eagerly. "I did. Perhaps you are not aware that McBride and North were on friendly terms; for years it had been North's habit to go to Mr. McBride whenever he had a sudden need of money. This I know to be a fact." He glanced about him and could see that what he had said was making its impression on his hearers. "When did you see McBride, at what hour?" asked Moxlow. "A little before two." "Do you feel at liberty to state the sum paid by your client?" "It was three thousand and fifty-seven dollars, all in cash." "There are one or two more questions I should like to ask you," said Moxlow. "You saw the money paid into Mr. McBride's hands before two o'clock yesterday afternoon?" "Yes." "Do you know what disposition he made of the money?" "No, I do not." "I mean, did he put it in his safe—in his pocket—" "He did neither in my presence, the bundle of bills was lying on his desk when I left." "You were not interrupted while you were transacting this business, no customer happened into the store?" asked Moxlow. "So far as I know, we three were absolutely alone in the building." "Afterward, when North called at your office, you mentioned this transaction?" "Yes." "Do you know how many shares Mr. North expected to dispose of?" "Five, I think." Langham paused and glanced again in the direction of the gambler, but Gilmore seemed to have lost all interest in what was passing. Moxlow turned to Conklin. "You found no such sum as Mr. Langham mentions, either on the person of the dead man, or in the safe?" "No, the safe doors were standing open; as far as I am able to judge, the valuable part of its contents had been removed," replied the sheriff. "How about McBride himself?" "We found nothing in his pockets." "Of course, if he bought North's bonds, that would account for a part of the sum Mr. Langham has just told us of," said Moxlow. "But where are the bonds?" he added. "They were not among McBride's papers, that's sure," said the sheriff. "Probably they were taken also, though it's hardly conceivable that the murderer waited to sort over the papers in the safe. I tell you, gentlemen, his position was a ticklish one." It was the coroner who spoke. "It would seem a very desirable thing to communicate with North," suggested Moxlow. "I guess you are right; yes, I guess we had better try and find Mr. North," said the coroner. "Suppose you go after him, Mr. Conklin. Don't send—go yourself," he added. Again Langham dragged himself forward; the coils of this hideous thing seemed to be tightening themselves about John North. Langham's face still bore traces of his recent debauch, and during the last few minutes a look of horror had slowly gathered in his bloodshot eyes. He now studiously avoided Gilmore's glance, though he was painfully aware of his presence. The gambler coolly puffed at a cigar as he leaned against the casing of the long window at Doctor Taylor's back; there was the faint shadow of a smile on his lips as he watched Langham furtively. "I doubt if North will be found," said the latter. "I doubt if he is in Mount Hope," he continued haltingly. "What?" It was Moxlow who spoke. "This morning I received a brief communication from him; it was written late last night; he informed me that he should leave for the West on the Chicago express. He inclosed the keys to his rooms." Marshall Langham glanced at Gilmore, who seemed deeply absorbed. The coroner fidgeted in his seat; dismay and unspeakable surprise were plainly stamped on Colonel Harbison's face; Moxlow appeared quite nonplussed by what his partner had last said. "I was aware that he contemplated this trip West," said Langham quickly. "He had asked me to dispose of the contents of his rooms when he should be gone." "Did he tell you where he was going, Marshall?" asked Moxlow. Langham raised his bloodshot eyes. "No; he seemed in some doubt as to his plans." "For how long a time have you known of Mr. North's intention to leave Mount Hope?" asked Moxlow. "Only since yesterday, but I have known for quite a while that he planned some radical move of this sort. I think he had grown rather tired of Mount Hope." "Isn't it true that his money was about gone?" questioned Moxlow significantly. "I know nothing of his private affairs," answered Langham hastily. "He has never seemed to lack money; he has always had it to spend freely." "It would appear that Mr. North is our star witness; what do you think, gentlemen?" and Moxlow glanced from one to another of the little group that surrounded him. "At any rate he is a most important witness," emphasized the coroner. "North took the Chicago express as he had planned," said Gilmore quietly. "The bus driver for the United States Hotel, where I breakfasted, told me that he saw him at the depot last night." "I think we'd better wire North's description to the Chicago police; I see no other way to reach him." As he spoke, Moxlow turned to the sheriff. "You get ready to start West, Mr. Conklin. And don't let there be any hitch about it, either." <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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