The «Canary» Murder Case / Смерть Канарейки. Книга для чтения на английском языке - стр. 24

“Why not through the main entrance?” asked Markham. “It seems the only logical way left, according to your own findings.”

“That’s how I had it figured out, sir,” returned Heath. “But wait till you hear what the phone operator has to say.”

“And the phone operator’s post,” mused Vance, “is in the main hall half-way between the front door and this apartment. Therefore, the gentleman who caused all the disturbance hereabouts last night would have had to pass within a few feet of the operator both on arriving and departing—eh, what?”

“That’s it!” snapped Heath. “And, according to the operator, no such person came or went.”

Markham seemed to have absorbed some of Heath’s irritability.

“Get the fellow in here, and let me question him,” he ordered.

Heath obeyed with a kind of malicious alacrity.

Jessup made a good impression from the moment he entered the room. He was a serious, determined-looking man in his early thirties, rugged and well built; and there was a squareness to his shoulders that carried a suggestion of military training. He walked with a decided limp—his right foot dragged perceptibly—and I noted that his left arm had been stiffened into a permanent arc, as if by an unreduced fracture of the elbow. He was quiet and reserved, and his eyes were steady and intelligent. Markham at once motioned him to a wicker chair beside the closet door, but he declined it, and stood before the District Attorney in a soldierly attitude of respectful attention. Markham opened the interrogation with several personal questions. It transpired that Jessup had been a sergeant in the World War,[31] had twice been seriously wounded, and had been invalided home shortly before the Armistice. He had held his present post of telephone operator for over a year.

“Now, Jessup,” continued Markham, “there are things connected with last night’s tragedy that you can tell us.”

“Yes, sir.” There was no doubt that this ex-soldier would tell us accurately anything he knew, and also that, if he had any doubt as to the correctness of his information, he would frankly say so. He possessed all the qualities of a careful and well-trained witness.

“First of all, what time did you come on duty last night?”

“At ten o’clock, sir.” There was no qualification to this blunt statement; one felt that Jessup would arrive punctually at whatever hour he was due. “It was my short shift. The day man and myself alternate in long and short shifts.”

“And did you see Miss Odell come in last night after the theatre?”

“Yes, sir. Every one who comes in has to pass the switchboard.”

“What time did she arrive?”

“It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes after eleven.”

“Was she alone?”

“No, sir. There was a gentleman with her.”

“Do you know who he was?”

“I don’t know his name, sir. But I have seen him several times before when he has called on Miss Odell.”

“You could describe him, I suppose.”

“Yes, sir. He’s tall and clean-shaven except for a very short gray moustache, and is about forty-five, I should say. He looks—if you understand me, sir—like a man of wealth and position.”

Markham nodded. “And now, tell me: did he accompany Miss Odell into her apartment, or did he go immediately away?”