Rex Stout by The Hand in the Glove Page A

the hands of everybody here, except yourself. We have examined hands all over this countryside. But I may say here, and I mean only what I say”—Sherwood glanced around at all the occupants of the room—“that we have been able to find no evidence of the presence here yesterday of any outsider. It is prettywell established that no one approached that spot from the east. Other considerations—the unlikelihood of anyone going there at all unless he already knew of the place, the difficulty of a stranger’s getting in here without observation, the fact that Storrs had over three hundred dollars in his wallet and it hadn’t been touched, the method of committing the crime—no. We have about given up the idea of an outsider.”
    There was a stir and a murmur. Mrs. Storrs said, “Only Siva destroys. You mean the agent is here. I believe you. And the gloves?”
    “There must have been gloves. No one’s hands are marked, as they must have been without gloves. We have also been examining gloves, all we could find. Last night one of my men, wearing a pair of heavy buckskin, pulled up a 170 pound weight with a piece of that wire passed over the limb of a tree, and those gloves are marked and bruised ineradicably.” Sherwood looked around the room again. “Somewhere there is a pair of gloves marked like that. There must be. That’s what the men are looking for. I realize that on a place of this size such a search is next to hopeless, but we may find them … and by the way, Mrs. Storrs, I have a request to make. I intended to make it of you this morning, but your bringing everyone in here simplifies it a little. While we are here, I would like to instruct the men to search this house. May I do that?”
    Mrs. Storrs, without any hesitation, said, “I think it may not be necessary.”
    Sherwood frowned. “You’ll have to explain that. You don’t mean you know where the gloves are?”
    “Oh, no. I mean … but then, you need proof. In your sphere … you will require proof?”
    “Proof? Certainly.”
    “Very well. You may search the house.”
    Sherwood looked at Brissenden. The colonel nodded and called, “Peterson!” The trooper approached and saluted. Brissenden told him, “Tell Quill to take five men and search the house from top to bottom, and don’t mess things up. I understand you’ve already searched this room and in front? All right, tell Quill to cover the rest and do it thoroughly. Any gloves that are found are to be brought tome, with a tag telling where they are found. Step on it, now.”
    The trooper went. Mrs. Storrs spoke to the room:
    “I know that the proof of fools is an impertinence to Siva and to the principles. This is a concession I am making, and if I have to pay for it I am willing to do that. Even Siva may be held to a bargain once it has been made, and the destruction of my husband was not intended. I suffer for it.” Her voice went suddenly high, half hysterical, the words forced through her constricted throat: “I tell you, I suffer for it!”
    Janet Storrs, sitting with her hands clasped tight, cried softly, “Mother! Mother!”
    “Yes, Janet. You too, child.” Mrs. Storrs nodded at her daughter. She looked back at Sherwood and controlled her voice to its normal intensity: “You say the agent is here? You know that? Do you know him? I would like to hear what you know.”
    The attorney was regarding her steadily. “It might be better, madam,” he suggested, “if you would tell me what
you
know. I have not asked you any questions—”
    “You may. But you granted me a privilege. Do you know who killed my husband?”
    “No. I am counting on you to help me find out.”
    “I will do that. But first I must know—I do not intend to attempt to destroy your facts. Only Siva can create facts, or destroy them, and it is Siva I am betraying, for my husband’s sake. I must know your facts. You know the agent is here, among these people. What have you found out about