The Black Mask — page 115: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

After Midnight 113 He scowled uncertainly, then looked from Willoughby’s face to the inspector’s. “He seems to have died suddenly, with acute agony. Rather an unusual attitude for a heart fail- ure to assume, don’t you think so, Dr. Willoughby ?” “I do; that is why I hesitated to diagnose it as such.” “And yet,” the physician leaned closer, “I—I—I’m not prepared to say it isn’t.” “Look him over, Riley,” said Dwy- er abruptly to a younger man in plain clothes—“‘see if there’s anything to identify him on his clothes.” “Plain hobo,” said the other after a moment’s survey; there were no cards, letters, nor marks of any kind on the body or clothing to lead to any knowledge of the man. “Heart failure it is, I take it,” said Dwyer grimly. “Must a caught the poor devil suddenly. Probably dropped in here to steal a night’s lodging, and having a bum heart keeled over.” Lannen started to speak, hesitated, then turned abruptly to Dr. Wil- loughby. There was an enigmatical look on the physician’s .bearded face. Lan- nen almost fancied that triumph gleamed through his black eyes. “You—you—aren’t going to have an inquest?” the lawyer queried. “Not necessary,” Dwyer replied. “Thing seems pretty clear to me.” He turned deferentially to Wil- loughby. “You passed it as heart failure, also, didn’t you, Doctor?” Willoughby bowed his head in as- sent. “We'll have the body removed at once,” the inspector continued. “Ri- ley, you can stay here until the wagon comes. If there’s nothing fur- ther, we'll bid you good-morning.” Something seemed to snap in Lan- B. M Ate : nen’s brain. The story the young gardener had told him, the scream the dead man had given, had made too deep an impression on the law- yer’s mind to be dismissed lightly. “Doctor—” he exclaimed, touching the medical assistant’s arm, “do per- sons dying suddenly of heart failure give a cry of mortal agony?” “Hey?” Lannen repeated the question. “No—no, I think not. It would be unusual, quite unusual but not im- possible for them to cry out. Death comes too suddenly as a rule for them to make any sound—death so painful as this. Why do you ask?” “This man gave a scream.” I heard it. So did Mrs. Willoughby, who found the body.” The inspector dug the blunt toe of his shoe into the grass at his feet. He coughed, then looked at Willoughby, back to Lannen’s expressive face, then to his assistant. A slow flush mounted to his forehead. “This puts- another complexion on the matter,” he said quietly, “Where is Mrs. Willoughby ?” “In the house,” her husband re- plied. “She was badly upset about the matter and has gone in.” “Stay here, Riley. Come on with me the rest of you.” An air of alert- ness had taken hold of Dwyer, as though he suddenly sensed some- thing of interest. As the servants, huddled together, did not move, he gave a peremptory gesture toward them, and repeated the command for them to return to the house with him. N ONCE inside the house Willoughby became a genial host, inquiring of the officers if they desired anything to drink, and when Dwyer accepted ps ae