MR. VANTINE’S MYSTERIOUS CALLER

     (Grady Please Notice)

And it was intimated that when Grady wanted any real information about an especially puzzling case, he had to go to the Record to get it.

This, however, was merely by the way, for the story of the double tragedy, fully illustrated, was flung across many columns, and was plainly considered the great news feature of the day.

I glanced at two or three other papers on my way down-town.  All of them featured the tragedy with a riot of pictures—­pictures of d’Aurelle and Vantine, of Grady (very large), of Simmonds, of Goldberger, of Freylinghuisen, of the Vantine house, diagrams of the ante-room showing the position in which the bodies were found, anatomical charts showing the exact nature of the wounds, pictures of the noted poisoners of history with a highly-coloured list of their achievements—­but, when it came to the story of the tragedy itself, their accounts were far less detailed and intimate than that in the Record.  They were, indeed, for the most part, mere farragos of theories, guesses, blood-curdling suggestions, and mysterious hints of important information confided to the reporters but withheld from the public until the criminal had been run to earth.  That this would soon be accomplished not a single paper doubted, for had not Grady, the mighty Grady, taken personal charge of the case? (Here followed a glowing history of Grady’s career.)

It was evident enough that all these reporters had been compelled to go to Grady for their information, and I could fancy them damning him between their teeth as they penned these panegyrics.  I could also fancy their city editors damning as they compared these incoherent imaginings with the admirable and closely-written story in the Record, and I suspected that it was the realisation of the Record’s triumph which had caused the descent of the phalanx of reporters upon the Vantine place.

I went over the whole affair with Mr. Royce, as soon as he reached the office, and spent the rest of the day arranging the papers relating to Vantine’s affairs and getting them ready to probate.  Parks called me up once or twice for instructions as to various details, and Vantine’s nearest relative, a third or fourth cousin, wired from somewhere in the west that he was starting for New York at once.  And then, toward the middle of the afternoon, came the cablegram from Paris which I had almost forgotten to expect: 

     “Royce & Lester, New York.

     “Regret mistake in shipment exceedingly.  Our representative will
      call to explain.

     “Armand et Fils.”

So there was an end of the romance Godfrey had woven, and which I had been almost ready to believe—­the romance of design, of a carefully laid plot, and all that.  It had been merely accident, after all.  And I smiled a little sarcastically at myself for my credulity.  No doubt my own romance of a secret drawer and a poisoned mechanism would prove equally fabulous.  In my over-wrought state of the night before, it had seemed reasonable enough; but here, in the cold light of day, it seemed preposterous.  How Grady and Goldberger would have laughed at it!