Chapter 35 Chapter Thirty-Four Mr. Gritz Returns to Control

Worse than the Roman tyrant Herod. tricks of the enemy. Half an hour later, I expected Mr. Gritz's train to have arrived, and I stood on the porch waiting, filled with indescribable anxiety.All kinds of men and women in front of me are slowly and laboriously leaving the station as the train pulls out of the station.Is he in the crowd?I don't know if the tone in the telegram is strong enough, can he come to R in person regardless of his physical illness?Hannah's handwritten confession felt faintly hot in my heart, and just half an hour ago, my heart was still full of doubts and struggles.Despite the high spirits now, and though there was still a tinge of mistrust, it began to feel like the impatient waiting all afternoon would be over.At this point part of the advancing crowd retreated into the side alley, and I saw Mr. Gritz limping painfully and slowly up the street with one cane instead of two.

He entered the room with a pensive look on his face. "That's a good time," he sighed when we met at the door. "I dare say it's the best time to meet. Hannah's dead, eh? It's all messed up! Hmm... what are you doing now?" As for Mary Leavenworth?" Logically speaking, if I introduce him to Mrs. Belden next, let him read Hannah's confession in the living room first, and then start the narrative process, it should not be abrupt, but the development of the matter is not like this.I can't say why, whether it's because I want him to experience the alternating feelings of hope and fear since I arrived in R, or because of the evil of human nature, I still hate Gritz - because he keeps doubting me Henry Claflin's attitude was sneering, so I would like to see what kind of impact the truth will have on him at this moment after he has confirmed the murder 100% in his heart.

I waited to report to him all that had taken place during the boarding, and saw the twinkle of excitement in his eyes and the twitch of his lips as he read the letter from Mary which he had found in Mrs. Belden's pocket. Shaking a little until I'm sure he's got that "Great! Best event of the season! Most suspenseful case since Lafarge" look.At any other time, he would have voiced his theories and ideas, and there would always be a gulf between the two of us.It was only at this point that I allowed myself to hand him the letter that had been pulled from under Hannah's body.

I will never forget the look on his face when he got the letter. "Dude!" he exclaimed, "what's this thing?" "It's Hannah's dying confession. When I went upstairs to take a closer look at her, I found it on her bed, just half an hour ago." He opened the letter, first scanned it with suspicious eyes, and then quickly changed to a surprised and inexplicable expression.Then he took the confession book in his hand and looked around. "This evidence is very valuable." My tone couldn't be said to be full of complacency. "It has changed the direction of the investigation of the whole case!"

"You think so?" he snapped back.I didn't know how to respond, because his attitude was a million miles away from what I expected.He looked up and said, "You said you found this on her bed. Where on the bed?" "Under Hannah," I replied. "I saw a corner of the confession paper under her shoulder, so I pulled it out." He came up to me and stopped. "When you first found it, was it folded or unfolded?" "Folded and in this glued envelope." I showed him. He took it, looked at it, and continued to ask questions. "The envelope is badly squeezed on the outside, as is the letter itself. Is that how you found it?"

"Yes. Not only that, but folded in half." "Fold it in half? Are you sure? Fold it well, stick it together, and then fold it in half, as if it was crushed when you turned over while you were alive, isn't it?" "yes." "Is there nothing suspicious? Doesn't it look like someone planted her after her death?" "Not at all. From various indications, she was still holding the confession book when she lay down, and then let go of it when she turned over." Herr Gritz's eyes, which had always been bright, were suddenly cast with an ominous shadow, evidently dissatisfied with my answer.He put down the confession, stood thinking, then suddenly lifted the letter up again, examined the edges of the paper carefully, cast a quick glance at me, and disappeared.His attitude was very strange, I unconsciously got up and followed him, but he waved me to stop.He said, "Go and check the box on the table, you've worked hard to get it too. See if there's anything we want in it. I'm going to be alone for a while."

I suppressed my surprise and complied with his request, but before I opened the lid, he came back in a hurry, put the letter on the table vigorously, and said with great emotion: "Didn't I say that after the Lafarge case , isn't there any case so complicated? Tell you, this case is more difficult than all the others! Mr. Raymond—" His eyes came into contact with mine because of his excitement.This is the first time this has happened to me since my dealings with him. "Be prepared to be disappointed. This Hannah's confession is a fake!" "Counterfeit?"

"Yeah, counterfeit, forgery, you name it. Hannah didn't write at all." Surprised and a little angry, I jumped up from my seat. "How do you know?" I asked out loud. He leaned forward and handed the letter into my hand. "See for yourself," he said, "look it over, and tell me, what's the first thing you notice?" "The first thing I noticed, of course, was the words written in print rather than script. She is just a maid, and it is normal to do so." "so what?" "She wrote in print on a plain white sheet of paper."

"Plain white paper?" "yes." "You mean, a piece of ordinary-quality business stationery?" "certainly." "yes?" "You can't go wrong." "Look at the horizontal line above." "What are you looking at? Oh, I see, the horizontal line is very close to the top edge of the paper, obviously showing signs of being cut." "In short, the paper was large and was cut to business paper size?" "yes." "That's all you see?" "And the text on it." "You didn't notice, what should the cut part be?"

"Unless you mean the manufacturer's stamp on the corner, I don't notice anything else." Mr. Gritz gave me a meaningful look. "However, I don't think that the imprint is missing. It doesn't have much to do with it." "Don't you think? Don't you think that with the imprint we have a chance of tracing the paper back?" "That's right." "Hmph...you are more unprofessional than I thought. Didn't you realize that since Hannah had no motive to hide the source of the suicide note paper, this paper must have been prepared by someone else?"

"No," I said, "I haven't thought about it that much." "I didn't think so much! Well, let's talk about it, why did Hannah, a maid, commit suicide, notice to hide clues in her confession, and don't want others to find out which table and which drawer the paper came from? , which stack of papers?" "She doesn't have to, that's right." "And yet she took some pains to obliterate the evidence." "But--" "One more thing. Mr. Raymond, read the contents of the confession and tell me what you think." "Well," said I, when I had done as he had been told, "the servant girl, overwhelmed with worry, took her own life, and Henry Claflin—" "Henry Claflin?" His questioning tone carried a lot of meaning, so I looked up at him. "Yes." I said. "Oh, I didn't notice Mr. Claflin's name was mentioned in the confession, sorry." "His name was not mentioned, but she described it very much like—" At this point Mr. Gritz interrupted me. "Don't you think it's a little strange? Hannah knows the man's name, so why describe it?" I was taken aback.This is indeed unusual. "You take Mrs. Belden at her word, don't you?" "That's right." "You also think she is right about what happened here a year ago?" "yes." "Then you must believe that Hannah, the errand-runner, knows Mr. Claflin himself and his name well?" "of course." "Looking at it this way, why didn't she just write the name? If her real intention, as she frankly said, was to help Eleanor Leavenworth clear her grievances, she would naturally state it in the most straightforward way. She Since the identity of that person is completely clear, just mentioning the name directly, why do you need to describe it? This is enough to prove that the author of the confession is not this poor and ignorant girl, but someone deliberately faked it, but it is a pity that it is outrageously wrong. It is a pity that More than that. According to what you said, Mrs. Belden insisted that Hannah told her as soon as she entered the house that Mary Leavenworth wanted her to come here to hide from the limelight. However, in this confession, she stated that it was a black mustache. Good job." "I know. But is it possible that both of them were involved in the case at the same time?" "It is possible," he said, "but when there are inconsistencies between a person's writing and dictation, there must be something suspicious in it. However, rather than standing here blankly, we might as well ask Mrs. Belden for confirmation. She might be able to explain all doubts in one sentence!" "You say Mrs. Belden," I said, "I've heard a thousand words from her today, and the case isn't any clearer than it was at the beginning." "You have," he said, "but I haven't. Call her in, Mr. Raymond." I got up. "Before I go," I said, "one more thing. What would you think if Hannah got the paper cut out like this and didn't expect it to invite speculation?" "Ah!" he said, "we shall find out soon." Mrs. Belden looked impatient when I entered the drawing room.She was probably wondering: when is the coroner coming?And what can this detective do for us?Waiting alone is a terrible thing. I tried my best to reassure her and told her that the detective hadn't told me how to deal with it, but I still had some questions to ask her.Would she like to come into the room and meet him?She got up quickly, probably because she thought it was better than getting up and down. In the short time since I left, Mr. Gritz has changed his original stern attitude into an unusually kind one, and his attitude towards Mrs. Belden has just shown respect, hoping to give her a good impression. "Ah! This is the hostess. It's unfortunate that something like this happened in your house," he sighed, getting up slightly to greet her, "Can I ask you to sit down, if a stranger can ask the hostess to sit down at his own house .” "This doesn't feel like my own house at all." Her tone was plaintive, but not aggressive.His amiable strategy worked. "I'm only a little better than a prisoner. People call me around, and I have to obey orders when I open and close my mouth. It's all my fault for taking in this unfortunate girl. I took her in without selfishness, but she died in my house! " "That's right!" Mr. Gritz exclaimed. "This is very unfair to you. But maybe we can seek justice, and I firmly believe that we will be able to seek justice. There must be a reasonable explanation for this murder. You say There's no poison in the house, is there?" "No, sir." "That girl hasn't been out yet?" "Not at all, sir." "And no one came here to see her?" "Not one, sir." "So even if she wanted to get the poison, she couldn't get it, could she?" "Yes, sir." "Unless," he said skillfully, "she's got it on her when she comes here?" "Impossible, sir. She has no luggage, and she has nothing in her pockets, for I have turned over." "What did you find in your pocket?" "A few notes, more than a maid should have, some change, and an ordinary handkerchief." "In this way, we proved that she did not take poison to kill herself, because there was no poison in the house." His tone was firm enough to scare her away. "I've always told Mr. Raymond that." She looked at me triumphantly. "It must have been a heart attack," he went on. "You said she was all right yesterday, didn't you?" "Yes, sir, at least it seems so." "Not in a good mood?" "I didn't say so. She's in a good mood, sir, very well." "What are you talking about, ma'am, is this girl in a good mood?" He glanced at me, "I'm confused. Logically speaking, what happened in New York made her anxious before it's too late, how can she be in a good mood?" "Think what you will, sir," replied Mrs. Belden, "it's not really what you think. She never actually showed any signs of worry." "What! Isn't she worried about Miss Eleanor? According to the reports in the newspaper, the outside world is pointing the finger at Eleanor. However, she probably doesn't know what is written in the newspaper? I mean Miss Leavenworth's situation .” "She knew because I told her. I was also surprised I couldn't keep it to myself. You know, I always thought Eleanor was immune to blame, and it surprised me that the papers said she was involved." , so read the report to Hannah and watch the look on her face." "Really? Then how could she behave like this?" "I can't tell. She didn't seem to understand what was going on. She asked me why I read it to her, and then told me she didn't want to hear it anymore. And I promised not to bother her about the murder again. If I continue Ask her about the murder, and she'll pretend she didn't hear." "Hmph... is there anything else?" "That's it. She covered her ears and frowned, looking very sad, and I had to leave the room." "When did this happen?" "About three weeks ago." "Did she bring up this topic again later?" "No, sir, not once." "What? Didn't even ask what they want to do with Miss?" "No, sir." "However, she may appear to be worried about something, probably feeling fear, regret or anxiety..." "No, monsieur. On the contrary, she often looks mirthful." "But," exclaimed Mr. Gritz, squinting at me, "that would be too strange and unnatural. I can't figure out why." "I can't figure it out, sir. At that time, I often thought that either her perception was dull, or she was too ignorant to understand the seriousness of the matter. However, as I became more familiar with her, my original opinion gradually changed. The reason for her secret happiness is not simple. I can't help thinking that she seems to be preparing for her future. For example, one day, she asked me if I could teach her to play the piano. Later I came to the conclusion that if she didn't tell the secret , someone promised to give her money. She was so happy because of this, she forgot about the horrible past and related events. Seeing her being so serious and motivated, and occasionally secretly smiling contentedly when she thought I didn't see it, my only explanation is that someone paid Shut her mouth." I can assure you that there is no such smile on Mr. Gritz's face at this time. "That's why," continued Mrs. Belden, "her death has hit me so hard. I can't believe she died overnight in a good mood and in good health. One knows why. But—" "Wait a minute," interrupted Mr. Gritz at this moment, "what do you mean by her ambition?" "She wants to learn things, such as writing and literacy. When she came here, she could only print and write crookedly." Mr. Gritz grabbed my arm so hard I thought he was going to tear off a piece of flesh. "When she came here? You mean, she didn't learn to write until she came to you?" "Yes, sir. I'll put the copybook—" "Where are the copybooks?" Mr. Gritz interrupted her, turning to the most professional tone, "Where are the things she practiced? I want to see it. Can you bring it for us?" "I don't know, sir. I destroy them as soon as they're used up, and I don't want them in the house. I'll look for them, though." "Please look for it," he said, "I'll go with you, anyway, I want to see what's upstairs." Then he got up to follow her regardless of his rheumatism in his legs. "It's getting better and better," I whispered to him as he passed. He smiled at me knowingly, without saying anything. I am not going to describe my ups and downs during the ten minutes they were away.Finally, they put the carton they were holding on the table. "The writing paper in the house," said Mr. Gritz, "here are the big and small papers. But before you start looking, please look at this." He held up a large piece of light blue foreign paper, on which dozens of words were written, all of which were written in accordance with the old copybooks: "Happiness comes from a kind heart", and in some places it says "beauty does not last" and "close to ink". then black". "what do you think?" "Written neatly and clearly." "That was Hannah's last writing. That's all I could find. It's not as bad as the handwriting we've seen?" "Not like." "Mrs. Belden said that she has practiced to this level in more than a week, and she is very proud, always praising how smart she is." He whispered in my ear: "If the work in your hand is her handwriting, It must have been written long ago." Then said aloud, "Let me first see the paper she used." He opened the lid of the box on the table again, took out the scattered papers inside and spread them out in front of me.It only takes one glance to see that it is quite different from the paper quality of the confession. "That's all the paper in the house," he said. "Are you sure?" I asked Mrs. Belden.She stood in front of us, looking a little overwhelmed. "Is there still a stack of papers, large foreign papers, etc. somewhere, and Hannah is using them behind your back?" "No, sir. I don't think it's likely. I only have one. Besides, Hannah has a large stack of the same papers in her room, and it's unlikely she'll be looking around for others that aren't kept together." "However, you don't know what such a girl might do. You see," I asked her to look at the blank side of the confession book, "is it possible to find such a piece of paper in your house? Please carefully Look, this is important." "I've said it, and it's the same thing again, and there's nothing like that. I've never had paper like this in my house." As Mr. Gritz took the confession from me, he whispered to me, "What do you think now? Where did Hannah get this important thing?" I shook my head, finally accepting what he said.But then I turned to him and whispered, "But if it wasn't for Hannah, who would write such a thing? Why did you find it on her?" "Well," he said, "it's up to you and me to find out." Then he questioned Hannah's life in the house one by one, and the answer showed that it was absolutely impossible for her to come here with a confession, let alone a messenger in private to deliver the letter for her.Unless we suspect Mrs. Belden's life, the puzzle seems insoluble, and I'm beginning to despair.Then Mr. Gritz squinted at me, and leaning over to Mrs. Belden, said: "I heard you had a letter from Miss Mary Leavenworth yesterday." "Yes, sir." "Is it this letter?" He took out the letter and showed it to her. "Yes, sir." "I want to ask you something. Is this letter you saw the only thing in the envelope? Is there anything else in it for Hannah?" "No, sir. I didn't enclose anything for Hannah in that letter. She did, however, get a letter yesterday. It came with mine." "Hannah got the letter!" exclaimed both of us. "By the post?" "Yes, but the addressee is not her. The addressee is—" She looked at me with despairing eyes, "it's me. There's a code in the corner of the envelope that I know—" "My God!" I interrupted. "Where is the letter? Why didn't you mention it before? We've been groping in the dark for so long, and if you just show us this letter, you'll probably be able to answer the question at once. You What are your intentions?" "It didn't occur to me until this time, too. I didn't know the importance. I—" Yet I can't control myself. "Mrs. Belden, where is that letter?" I pressed, "Do you have it?" "No," she said, "I gave it to Hannah yesterday and haven't seen it since." "So it must be upstairs. Let's look for it again." I rushed to the door. "You can't find it," said Mr. Gritz, pointing to my elbow. "I've looked for it, and only found a pile of paper dust in a corner. By the way, what could that pile of paper dust be?" he asked Mrs. Belden. "I don't know, sir. She has nothing to burn but that letter." "Look," I muttered to myself, and hurried upstairs to get the washbasin and the contents inside, "If I saw the letter you took outside the post office, then the envelope should be yellow." "Yes, sir." "The ashes of the yellow envelope are not the same as the white paper. I should be able to recognize the ashes of the yellow envelope. Ah, this letter is completely burnt. Here are the pieces of the envelope." I pulled a half-burned piece from the charred pile and held it aloft. "It's useless to find the contents of the letter here," said Mr. Gritz, putting the washbasin aside. "We still have to ask you questions, Mrs. Belden." "But, I don't know. It's me, but Hannah told me when she first asked me to teach her to write that she was waiting for such a letter, so when it arrived, I I didn't even open it, so I gave it to her directly." "But did you stay with her and watch her read the letter?" "No, sir. I was in a hurry, for Mr. Raymond had just arrived, and I had no time for her. My own letters bothered me enough." "But you must have asked her some questions before going to bed at night, right?" "Yes, sir, I asked when I went upstairs to bring her tea, but she didn't say anything. Hannah can say nothing if she likes. She doesn't even admit that the letter was from the lady." of." "Ah! So you think the letter was written by Miss Leavenworth?" "Certainly, sir. There's a sign in the corner. How could I have thought it was written by anyone else? Though it could have been written by Mr. Claflin," she added, thinking. "You said she was in a good mood yesterday. Did she become like that after she received the letter?" "Yes, sir, as far as I can see. I didn't stay in the room too long, because I felt it necessary to dispose of the box I kept in my hand. Mr. Raymond probably told you?" Mr. Gritz nodded. "It was a tiring night and made me forget about Hannah for a while, but—" "Wait a minute!" cried Mr. Gritz, and beckoned me to a corner, and whispered to me, "and then there was what Q saw. From when you were not in the room to when Mrs. Belden saw him again." Before Hannah, he had seen Hannah hunched over in the corner of the room, not knowing what she was doing, probably squatting in the corner where we found the washbasin. Then he saw her gleefully swallowing a Unidentified object wrapped in paper. Anything else?" "No more." I said. "Very well," he said, returning to Mrs. Belden, "but—" "But I thought of Hannah when I went back upstairs to sleep, and I went to open her door. By then the lights were out and she seemed to be fast asleep, so I backed out and closed the door." "Didn't you say a word?" "No, sir." "Did you notice her sleeping position?" "I didn't notice it in particular. It should be lying on its back." "Is it roughly the same posture as when I found it this morning?" "Yes, sir." "That's all you know about her letter or her strange death?" "Yes, sir." Mr. Gritz straightened up. "Mrs. Beldon," said he, "do you recognize Mr. Claflin's handwriting when you see it?" "I recognize it." "Where is Miss Leavenworth's handwriting?" "That's fine too, sir." "Okay, whose handwriting is on the letter you handed to Hannah?" "I can't tell. The handwriting on the envelope was deliberately forged, and it could have been either. But I think—" "how?" "More like her handwriting, though it doesn't look like her real handwriting either." Mr. Gritz smiled and put the confession in the envelope in which he found it. "Do you remember how big the envelope was when you handed it to her?" "Oh, it's big, very big. The biggest kind." "Is it thick?" "Yes. Thick enough to hold two letters." "It's big and thick, is it big enough to fit this?" He folded the confession book and put it in the envelope in front of her eyes. "Yes, sir," she said with a look of surprise, "it's thick enough to hold that letter." Mr. Gritz's coal-black eyes searched the whole room, and finally settled on a fly on my sleeve. "You still need to ask again," he whispered to me in a low voice, "Who wrote the so-called confession and where did it come from?" Mr. Gritz calmed down a bit to taste the victory, then got up, and began to fold the paper on the table and put it in his pocket. "What do we do next?" I hurriedly approached him and asked. He grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the hall and into the living room. "I'm going back to New York to follow up. I want to find out who gave Hannah the poison, who told her to kill herself, and who wrote the confession in fake handwriting." "But," I almost lost my focus, "Q and the coroner will be here soon, don't you want to wait?" "No need. The clues collected here must be investigated as soon as possible, and there is no time to wait." "They're already here, if I'm not mistaken," I said, hearing someone step outside the door. "Yes." He agreed and let them in quickly. Generally, any investigative action we undertake must come to an end as soon as the coroner arrives at the scene.Fortunately for us, however, Dr. Funk in R-town is obviously a very reasonable person, which is quite beneficial to us.He only heard it once, and he immediately understood the seriousness of the situation and the necessity of careful investigation.In addition, he expressed sympathy for Mr. Gritz.What's more, the two of them had never met, and he expressed his willingness to cooperate with us, not only temporarily giving us free access to the documents in our hands, but even during routine matters-such as jury searches, inquests, etc. —Stay as long as possible so that we can carry out our investigative work. So we didn't suffer much delay.Mr. Gritz took the 6:30 p.m. train to New York, and I returned to New York at 10:00.During this period, the coroner called the jury to conduct an autopsy until the end of the interrogation, which was already the next Tuesday.

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