Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1915-10-03
SUNDAY MAGAZINE for October 8, 1915

general, go so far out of his way to de-
stroy evidence that he creates evidence
by his efforts at destruction"
al see."
"Not that there's a whole lot of likeli-
hood of our CHANGING on it here. But, in
any case, We'll be able to get the general
arrangement and the look of things"
The general arrangement of those
Fisher rooms was one that, to any one
familiar with the big modern two-story
apartment de luxe, revealed itself at once.
Above to right and left, the suites of the
master and the mistress. Below, the big
common rooms. And, in the court wing,
first the service rooms and then the living
quarters of the servants themselves All
was perfectly simple. There were neither
unlooked-for doors nor unsupported pas
sages. The swimming-pool alone was out
Of the common. And the Doctor began
by leading the way to it.
1T was as they had seen it first. There
had been no evidence of destroyed evil
dence then, and there was none now.
The coroner's physician gravely pointed
out to Laneham that death would have
resulted from the blow on the temple
alone; and that, though the markings
on the throat were, in a sense, almost
identical with those often caused by as
phyXiation or even electric shock, the
finger-marks on the arm made it needless
to go so far afeld. All of which had been
seen and said before. Nor was any new
light given. Bishop told himself, by the
great bell-like light hanging over the pool.
He waited till the Doctor had gone to and
fro once more. Then they went on to the
rooms beyond.
They could now see Mrs. Fishers lit
tie private suite from end to end. And
it, too, told no more than it had told at
first. 1t had showed no slightest evidence
OF disturbance then, and it showed none
now. 1t was a small, tragic vision of
lovely old rose and dull blue and creamy
egg-shell white Two Electric Protection
men were still searching for proof that
the hidden wall safe had been tempered
with. Near the old French fireplace in
the little library some Central Office men
were turning out the drawers of fine
old Washington desk.
"The boss he meant Professor Fisher
-"told us to make it thorough; no bars
up anywhere" said one of them. can
we are"
Another had again opened the window
Of the tiny writing-room, on the theory,
perhaps, that, even without fire-escape
or connecting balcony, some one might
have entered from the apartment next
door. But the snow on the outer sill was
a soft, unbroken crust of sleet.
They descended the stairs again to the
common rooms. And then they went on
through to the service rooms. In none of
them was there either evidence of evil
dence destroyed, or Of the unusual in any
other form.
There still remained the private living
quarters of those two "prison-gate"
Fisher servants. Each of them had two
rooms. And if both those servants had
fed the mere condition of their rooms at
least established this difference between
them: Maddalina, the Italian maid, had
had her warning. The events, whatever
they were, of that day had not taken her
by surprise-the proof being that she had
removed all her belongings, to the last old
shoe. And to do that it was a fair infer