# The Marathon Mystery/Part 1/Chapter 4
### CHAPTER IV
#### The Janiotr's Story

GODFREY glanced at his watch. It was after nine o’clock. The rain had almost ceased, but the wind was still high. He turned back to the building and found the janitor sitting just inside the door. He had endured the ordeal of inquisition by police and reporters and was rather limp.
“May I use your telephone a moment?” asked Godfrey.
The janitor waved his hand toward the booth. Godfrey called up his office and asked that a photographer and an artist be sent up at once. The readers of the Record demanded illustrations with every story, and the paper always did its best to please them, at whatever cost of labour, ingenuity, or money. That done, Godfrey went back to the janitor and sat down beside him.
After all, he told himself, he had as yet only half the story; he must get every detail from this man, and he saw that it would be necessary to proceed delicately, for his companion’s temper was evidently badly ruffled. He was a thick-set, choleric man, with a shortness of breath which perhaps argued some weakness of the heart. Godfrey studied him now for a moment before he ventured to open fire.
“Well,” he began, at last, “you look as though those fellows had about worn you out, Mr.——” ​“Higgins is my name,” said the janitor. “Simon Higgins.”
“Oh, yes; I remember now. I suppose they asked you about a million questions?”
“A million!” echoed Higgins, with scorn. “Ten million ’d be more like it! But it wasn’t so much that, as that they wouldn’t believe me when I told ‘em a thing. They seemed t’ think I was lyin’!”
Godfrey nodded sympathetically.
“That does get on a man’s nerves,” he agreed. “I feel a little upset, myself—won’t you try a smoke?”
Higgins took the cigar.
“It’s agin th’ rules,” he said, “but I don’t keer; I need it,” and he bit off the end.
They sat together for a moment in silence, listening to the tramp of feet in the halls overhead, the opening and closing of doors, the subdued murmur of voices. At the stair-foot, beyond the elevator, they caught a glimpse, now and then, of a policeman pacing back and forth.
“They’re searchin’ the house,” observed Higgins, at last, with a grimace of disdain. “I turned th’ keys over t’ them. Much they’ll find!”
“Nobody there, eh?” It was not really a question; it seemed more a sign of polite interest on Godfrey’s part.
“I ought t’ know. I told ’em they wasn’t nobody there. Ain’t I been here all evenin’ ‘cept fer that minute I run acrost th’ street? Nobody in nor out, ’cept th’ girl—not since seven o’clock. That was about th’ time that there blamed Thompson come in, too drunk t’ stand. He’d never ’a’ got home in th’ world ​by hisself, but they was a feller with him, a-holdin’ him up.”
Godfrey was listening with strained attention. There were many questions he wished to ask, but he dared not interrupt.
“Well, we got him upstairs atween us. An’ then, when I went through his pockets, I couldn’t find his key, an’ I had t’ come down an’ git mine afore I could git his door open. We laid him on his bed an’ left him there, a-snorin’ like a hog. That feller who was with him was certainly a good sort. He set down here t’ talk t’ me a while—it was rainin’ so hard he couldn’t go—an’ he said he’d run acrost Thompson down at Pete Magraw’s place on Sixth Avenoo. Thompson was treatin’ everybody an’ actin’ like a fool ginerally; then he got bad an’ started t’ clean out th’ saloon, an’ Pete was goin’ t’ call a cop, but this feller said he’d bring him home—an’ so he did.”
Higgins stopped to take breath, and Godfrey ventured to put a question.
“Did you know him?”
“No; I never seed him afore.”
“What sort of a looking fellow was he?”
“A good-lookin’ feller, well-dressed—no bum, I kin tell y’ that. He was short an’ heavy-set, with a little black moustache that turned up at th’ ends.”
Godfrey’s heart gave a sudden leap—so Miss Croydon had told the truth, after all! She was not trying to protect anybody. And the case was going to prove a simple one—he had been reading a mystery into it that it did not possess; that was always the danger with your theorist, he told himself, a little bitterly—he was ​forever looking for hidden meanings, for abstruse clews, for picturesque solutions, instead of following the plainly evident, of accepting facts at their face value. Well, Simmonds certainly would not make that mistake; he would have little difficulty in finding his man.
“And then what happened?” he asked. “I suppose this fellow went away?”
“Oh, yes; he stayed here talkin’ quite a while-he started t’ go onct or twice, but th’ rain was too bad. But about eight o’clock he said he couldn’t stay no longer, rain ’r no rain, an’ was jest buttonin’ up his coat, when a cab drove up an’ a woman got out. She had a thick veil on, so’s I couldn’t see her face, but from her style I judged she was a high-flyer. She come up t’ me an’ she says,’ I want t’ go t’ apartment fourteen—Mr. Thompson.’ ‘Madam,’ says I, ‘I wouldn’t if I was you.’ ‘Why?’ she asked, quick-like, ‘ain’t he there?’ ‘He’s there,’ says I, ‘but he ain’t in no condition t’ see a lady.’ ‘Never mind,’ says she, ‘I’ll go up.’ ‘All right,’ says I. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I added t’ my friend. ‘No,’ he says, ‘I can’t wait; I must be goin’ an’ he started toward th’ door. ‘Well, good-night,’ I says, an’ stepped into th’ car an’ started it.
“I showed her th’ door o’ fourteen, an’ she knocked. I was waitin’ at th’ elevator, fer I knowed Thompson was too dead drunk t’ hear her an’ I’d have t’ take her down ag’in; when blessed if th’ door didn’t open an’ in she walked. Well, sir, I was so dumbfoundered I couldn’t believe my own eyes! But in she went, an’ I come on down, tryin’ t’ figger it out. It was mebbe ten minutes ​later that I heard a pistol-shot an’ I knowed in a minute what’d happened. That drunken brute had got too familiar, an’ she’d put a bullet in him. Though,” he added, reflectively, “why, if she’s straight, she’d go t’ his room at all is more’n I kin see.”
“Was there only one shot?” asked Godfrey.
“Only one,” answered the janitor; “but it sounded like a small cannon. It didn’t come from no sech little pop-gun as that which Mr. Simmonds picked up in th’ corner. I rushed up th’ stairs an’ threw open th’ door——”
“Wasn’t it locked?”
“No; an’ that’s funny, too,” he added, “fer I remember hearin’ the lock snap after th’ girl went in. Somebody must ‘a’ throwed it back ag’in. Mebbe th’ girl did it, tryin’ t’ git out, an’ Thompson got a-hold of her an’ then she let him have it.”
Godfrey nodded, with an appreciation seemingly very deep.
“That’s it, no doubt,” he said. “I see you’re a close reasoner, Mr. Higgins.”
“Why,” said Higgins, with a smile of self-satisfaction, “I allers have been able t’ put two an’ two t’gether. They’s one thing, though, I can’t explain. As I was rushin’ up th’ steps, I heard th’ openin’ an’ shuttin’ of a door.”
“Ah,” said Godfrey thoughtfully. “And there was no one in the hall?”
“Not a soul; not a soul in sight.”
“Are you sure of that?”
“Sure! O’ course I am. There’s a light in th’ ​hall—an’, anyway, they ain’t no place anybody could hide.”
“He might have gone into one of the other rooms, mightn’t he?”
“They was all locked—I’m certain o’ that.”
Godfrey took a thoughtful puff or two.
“It was th’ girl shot him—y’ kin bank on that,” added Higgins, with emphasis.
“But then,” objected Godfrey, “you said the report you heard couldn’t have come from her pistol.”
Higgins gasped and choked, staring wide-eyed.
“Why, that’s so!” he cried. “That’s so! I never thought o’ that! Mebbe there is a damn scoundrel hidin’ ’round here some’rs,” and he glanced excitedly up and down the hall.
“The police will find him if there is,” said Godfrey reassuringly. “What happened after you reached the room?”
“Well,” continued Higgins, quieting down a little, but still keeping one eye over his shoulder, “as I was sayin’, I throwed open th’ door, an’ there was th’ girl leanin’ agin th’ wall an’ Thompson on th’ floor with a big blood-spot on his shirt-front. I jest give one look at ’em an’ then I went down th’ steps three at a time an’ over t’ th’ station. I tell you, it purty nigh done me up.”
He was interrupted by a tramp of feet that came down the stairs. It was Simmonds and the coroner, closely attended by the crowd of reporters, who immediately surrounded Godfrey, in threatening admiration.
​“How did you happen to be here?” demanded Rankin of the Planet.
“Just luck,” explained Godfrey, looking around the group with a pleasant smile.
“Does it mean another scoop?”
“Oh, no; not at all! I dare say you fellows know more about it now than I do.”
“Oh, of course we do!” assented Rankin drily, amid derisive laughter.
“At least,” Godfrey added, “Mr. Goldberg has all the facts and is probably willing to help you out.”
“Yes,” agreed the coroner; “but it’s getting late, and I’m in a hurry—I’ll give you ten minutes at my office,” and he started toward the door.
“All right,” said Rankin; “come on, boys,” and they trooped out of the building together.
Simmonds waited until the last of them had disappeared.
“Well, we searched the house,” he began.
“Nobody there?” asked Godfrey.
“Not a living soul. I didn’t really expect to find anybody; but we went through every room—even to the suites which are occupied.”
Higgins opened his mouth suddenly; then as suddenly closed it.
“Did you find the doors all locked?”
“Every one; the hall windows bolted on the inside and the trap in the roof hooked in place. There’s only one way our man could get out—that was by the front door yonder,” and Simmonds looked sharply at the janitor.
​Higgins grew red in the face.
“I ain’t got nothin’ more t’ say!” he burst out explosively. “You’ll be sayin’ I did it, next!”
“Oh, no!” retorted Simmonds coolly, “you didn’t do it. But I’m not quite sure you’ve told us all you know.”
Higgins sprang from his chair, fairly foaming at the mouth with rage, but Simmonds calmly disregarded him.
“I’ve left a man on guard in fourteen,” he said. “Goldberg wants to bring his jury around in the morning to look at things. Here’s your keys,” and he handed the jingling ring back to the janitor.
“There’s a man coming up from the office to take a flash-light of it,” said Godfrey. “No objection to that, I guess?”
“No; that’s all right. Come around in the morning to talk it over. I think I’ll have some news for you,” and he went on out into the street.
Higgins sat down again, still nursing his wrath.
“Did y’ hear him?” he demanded. “Why, he as good as called me a liar!”
“Oh, you mustn’t mind him,” said Godfrey soothingly. “It’s his business to be suspicious. He doesn’t really suspect you.”
“Well, they ain’t no cause t’ suspect me—I ain’t done nothin’,” returned the janitor; then he looked meditatively at his keys, which he still held in his hand. “Funny,” he murmured; “funny. I don’t know when they went out.”
Godfrey said nothing, but contemplated him through half-dosed eyes.
​At that instant the street door opened and a man and woman entered.
“There they come, now!” cried Higgins, springing to his feet. “Good-evenin’, Mr. Tremaine.”
“Good-evening,” returned the stranger, in a voice singularly rich and pleasant.
“I was jest a-sayin’ to my friend here,” added the janitor, “that I hadn’t seen y’ go out.”
Godfrey, for an instant, found himself gazing into a pair of the keenest eyes he had ever encountered.
“You wished to see me?” asked Tremaine.
“Oh, no, no,” interrupted Higgins; “but the police was goin’ through the buildin’——”
“The police?”
“Oh, I fergot—you don’t know-that man Thompson’s been murdered—he had th’ soot right acrost th’ hall from you.”
“Murdered!” echoed Tremaine. “Murdered! Why, that’s terrible! Who did it? How did it happen?”
Higgins retold the story with some unction, evidently enjoying his listener’s horror. But Godfrey did not even glance at him. He was gazing—perhaps a shade too intently for politeness—at Mrs. Tremaine. And, indeed, she was a woman to hold any man’s eyes…
Tremaine drew a deep breath when the story was finished.
“The house has been searched?” he asked. “The scoundrel couldn’t be hidden——”
“Oh, no,” Higgins assured him; “th’ p’lice went all through it—even through your rooms.”
​“I’m glad of that—then we can sleep in peace.”
Godfrey rather wondered that Mrs. Tremaine took no part in the discussion. She stood listening apathetically, not even noticing his stare.
“When they told me they’d gone through your rooms,” added Higgins, “I was kind o’ surprised. I thought you was at home t’ night.”
“And that we stayed in our rooms during all that row?” queried Tremaine, smiling. “I suppose there was a row?”
His eyes sought Godfrey’s again; then he turned back to Higgins, evidently disturbed.
“You mean we may have to prove an alibi?” he went on quickly. “Oh, we can do that. We left the house just after seven o’clock—that was the first that I knew fourteen was occupied—I could see a light through the transom. I didn’t see you anywhere about.”
“Oh, now I understand,” cried Higgins; “that was while we was puttin’ Thompson t’ bed. You didn’t know him, I guess, sir?”
“No—as I said, I thought fourteen was empty.”
“He’s only been here three days,” explained the janitor, “an’ he was out most o’ th’ time, tankin’ up.”
“Oh, he was that sort, was he?” and Tremaine tossed away the end of his cigarette. “He got his deserts, then, no doubt. Come, Cecily,” he added, turning to his wife.
“Elevator, sir?” asked Higgins.
“No; we’ve been sitting all evening at the vaudeville,” and they went on up the stair, leaving Godfrey staring after them.