The «Canary» Murder Case / Смерть Канарейки. Книга для чтения на английском языке - стр. 21
He released the curtain, and strode into the foyer.
“Now, there’s only one entrance to this apartment, and that’s this door here opening off the main hall. There isn’t a transom or an air-shaft or a dumb-waiter in the place, and that means that the only way—the only way—that anybody can get in or out of this apartment is through this door. Just keep that fact in your mind, sir, while you’re listening to the stories of these people. … Now, I’ll have the maid brought in.”
In response to Heath’s order a detective led in a mulatto woman about thirty years old. She was neatly dressed, and gave one the impression of capability. When she spoke it was with a quiet, clear enunciation which attested to a greater degree of education than is ordinarily found in members of her class.
Her name, we learned, was Amy Gibson; and the information elicited by Markham’s preliminary questioning consisted of the following facts:
She had arrived at the apartment that morning a few minutes after seven, and, as was her custom, had let herself in with her own key, as her mistress generally slept till late.
Once or twice a week she came early to do sewing and mending for Miss Odell before the latter arose. On this particular morning she had come early to make an alteration in a gown.
As soon as she had opened the door she had been confronted by the disorder of the apartment, for the Venetian-glass doors of the foyer were wide open; and almost simultaneously she had noticed the body of her mistress on the davenport.
She had called at once to Jessup, the night telephone operator then on duty, who, after one glance into the living-room, had notified the police. She had then sat down in the public reception-room and waited for the arrival of the officers.
Her testimony had been simple and direct and intelligently stated. If she was nervous or excited, she managed to keep her feelings well under control.
“Now,” continued Markham, after a short pause, “let us go back to last night.—At what time did you leave Miss Odell?”
“A few minutes before seven, sir,” the woman answered, in a colorless, even tone which seemed to be characteristic of her speech.
“Is that your usual hour for leaving?”
“No; I generally go about six. But last night Miss Odell wanted me to help her dress for dinner.”
“Don’t you always help her dress for dinner?”
“No, sir. But last night she was going with some gentleman to dinner and the theatre, and wanted to look specially nice.”
“Ah!” Markham leaned forward. “And who was this gentleman?”
“I don’t know, sir—Miss Odell didn’t say.”
“And you couldn’t suggest who it might have been?”
“I couldn’t say, sir.”
“And when did Miss Odell tell you that she wanted you to come early this morning?”
“When I was leaving last night.”
“So she evidently didn’t anticipate any danger, or have any fear of her companion.”
“It doesn’t look that way.” The woman paused, as if considering. “No, I know she didn’t. She was in good spirits.”
Markham turned to Heath.
“Any other questions you want to ask, Sergeant?”
Heath removed an unlighted cigar from his mouth, and bent forward, resting his hands on his knees.
“What jewellery did this Odell woman have on last night?” he demanded gruffly.
The maid’s manner became cool and a bit haughty.