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If you + don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are + payable to "Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon + University" within the 60 days following each + date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare) + your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return. + +WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO? +The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time, +scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty +free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution +you can think of. Money should be paid to "Project Gutenberg +Association / Carnegie-Mellon University". + +*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END* + + + + + +THE RED SEAL + +by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + + + + + +CHAPTER I + +IN THE POLICE COURT + +Te Assistant District Attorney glanced down at the papers in his +hand and then up at the well-dressed, stockily built man occupying +the witness stand. His manner was conciliatory. + +"According to your testimony, Mr. Clymer, the prisoner, John +Sylvester, was honest and reliable, and faithfully performed his +duties as confidential clerk," he stated. "Just when was Sylvester +in your employ?" + +"Sylvester was never in my employ," corrected Benjamin Augustus +Clymer. The president of the Metropolis Trust Company was noted +for his precision of speech. "During the winter of 1918 I shared +an apartment with Judge James Hildebrand, who employed Sylvester." + +"Was Sylvester addicted to drink?" + +"No." + +"Was he quarrelsome?" + +"No." + +"Was Sylvester married at that date?" + +At the question a faint smile touched the corners of Clymer's clean +shaven mouth and his eyes traveled involuntarily toward the +over-dressed female whose charge of assault and battery against her +husband had brought Clymer to the police court as a "character" +witness in Sylvester's behalf. + +"Sylvester left Judge Hildebrand to get married," he explained. +"He was a model clerk; honest, sober, and industrious." + +"That is all, Mr. Clymer." The Assistant District Attorney spoke +in some haste. "You may retire, sir," and, as Clymer turned to +vacate the witness box, he addressed the presiding judge. + +Clymer did not catch his remarks as, on stepping down, he was +button-holed by a man whose entrance had occurred a few minutes +before through the swing door which gave exit from the space +reserved for witnesses and lawyers into the body of the court room. + +"Sit over here a second," the newcomer said in an undertone, +indicating the long bench under the window. "Has Miss McIntyre +been here?" + +"Miss McIntyre - here?" Clymer stared in amazement at his questioner. +"No, certainly not." + +"Don't be so positive," retorted the lawyer heatedly, his color +rising at the other's incredulous tone. "Helen McIntyre telephoned +me to meet her, and - by Jove, here she comes," as a slight stir +at the back of the court room caused him to glance in that direction. + +A gray-haired patrolman, cap in hand, was in the lead of the small +procession which filed up the aisle, and Clymer gazed in astonishment +at Helen McIntyre and her twin sister, Barbara. What had brought +them at that hour to the police court? + +The court room was filled with men, both white and black, while a +dozen or more slatternly negro women were seated here and there. +The Assistant District Attorney's plea for a postponement of the +Sylvester case on the ground of the absence of an important witness +and the granting of his plea was entirely lost on the majority of +those in the court room, their attention being wholly centered on +Helen McIntyre and Barbara, whose bearing and clothes spoke of a +fashionable and prosperous world to which nearly all present were +utterly foreign. + +Barbara, sensitive to the concentrated regard which their entrance +had attracted, drew closer to Dr. Amos Stone, their family physician, +who had accompanied them at her particular request. Except for Mrs. +Sylvester, she and her sister were the only white women in the room. + +Before they could take the seats to which they had been ushered, +the clerk's stentorian tones sent the girls' names echoing down +the court room and Barbara, much perturbed, found herself standing +with Helen before the clerk's desk. There was a moment's wait and +the deputy marshal, who had motioned to one of the prisoners sitting +in the "cage" to step outside, emphasized his order with a muttered +imprecation to hurry. A slouching figure finally shambled past him +and stopped some little distance from the group in front of the +Judge's bench. + +"House-breaking," announced the clerk. "Charge brought by -" He +looked up at the two girls. + +"Miss Helen McIntyre," answered one of the twins composedly. +"Daughter of Colonel Charles McIntyre of this city." + +"Charge brought by Miss Helen McIntyre," continued the clerk, +"against -" and his pointed finger indicated the seedy looking man +slouching before them. + +"Smith," said the latter, and his husky voice was barely audible. + +"Smith," repeated the clerk. "First name -?" + +"John," was the answer, given after a slight pause. + +"John Smith, you are charged by Miss Helen McIntyre with +house-breaking. What say you - guilty or not guilty?" + +The man shifted his weight from one foot to the other and shot an +uneasy look about him. + +"Not guilty," he responded. + +At that instant Helen caught sight of Benjamin Clymer and his +companion, Philip Rochester, and her pale cheeks flushed faintly at +the lawyer's approach. He had time but for a hasty handshake before +the clerk administered the oath to the prisoner and the witnesses +in the case. + +Rochester walked back and resumed his seat by Clymer. Propping +himself in the corner made by the bench and the cage, inside of +which sat the prisoners, he opened his right hand and unfolded a +small paper. He read the brief penciled message it contained not +once but a dozen times. Folding the paper into minute dimensions +he tucked it carefully inside his vest pocket and glanced sideways +at Clymer. The banker hardly noticed his uneasy movements as he +sat regarding Helen McIntyre standing in the witness box. Although +paler than usual, the girl's manner was quiet, but Clymer, a close +student of human nature, decided she was keeping her composure by +will power alone, and his interest grew. + +The Judge, from the Bench, was also regarding the handsome witness +and the burglar with close attention. Colonel Charles McIntyre, a +wealthy manufacturer, had, upon his retirement from active business, +made the National Capital his home, and his name had become a +household word for philanthropy, while his twin daughters were both +popular in Washington's gay younger set. Several reporters of local +papers, attracted by the mention of the McIntyre name, as well as +by the twins' appearance, watched the scene with keen expectancy, +eager for early morning "copy." + +As the Assistant District Attorney rose to question Helen McIntyre, +the Judge addressed him. + +"Is the prisoner represented by counsel?" he asked. + +For reply the burglar shook his head. Rising slowly to his feet, +Philip Rochester advanced to the man's side. + +"If it please the court," he began, "I will take the case for the +prisoner." + +His offer received a quick acceptance from the Bench, but the scowl +with which the burglar favored him was not pleasant. Hitching at +his frayed flannel collar, the man partly turned his back on the +lawyer and listened with a heavy frown to Helen's quick answers to +the questions put to her. + +"While waiting for my sister to return from a dance early this +morning," she stated, "I went downstairs into the library, and as +I entered it I saw a man slip across the room and into a coat +closet. I retained enough presence of mind to steal across to the +closet and turn the key in the door; then I ran to the window and +fortunately saw Officer O'Ryan standing under the arc light across +the street. I called him and he arrested the prisoner." + +Her simple statement evoked a nod of approval from the Assistant +District Attorney, and Rochester frowned as he waived his right to +cross-examine her. The next witness was Officer O'Ryan, and his +testimony confirmed Helen's. + +"The prisoner was standing back among the coats in the closet," he +said. "My automatic against his ribs brought him out." + +"Did you search your prisoner?" asked Rochester, as he took the +witness. + +"Yes, sir. + +"Find any concealed weapons?" + +"No, sir." + +"A burglar's kit?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did the prisoner make a statement after his arrest?" + +"No, sir; he came along peaceably enough, hardly a word out of +him," acknowledged O'Ryan regretfully. He enjoyed a reputation on +the force as a "scrapper," and a willing prisoner was a +disappointment to his naturally pugnacious disposition. + +"Did you search the house?" + +"Sure, and haven't I been telling you I did?" answered O'Ryan; his +pride in his achievement in arresting a burglar in so fashionable +a neighborhood as Sheridan Circle was giving place to resentment at +Rochester's manner of addressing him. At a sign from the lawyer, +he left the witness stand, and Rochester addressed the Judge. + +"I ask the indulgence of the court for more time," he commenced, +"that I may consult my client and find if he desires to call +witnesses." + +"The court finds," responded the Judge, "that a clear case of +house-breaking has been proven against the prisoner by reputable +witnesses. He will have to stand trial." + +For the first time the prisoner raised his eyes from contemplation +of the floor. + +"I demand trial by jury," he announced. + +"It is your right," acknowledged the Judge, and turned to consult +his calendar. + +Stepping forward, the deputy marshal laid his hand on the burglar's +shoulder. + +"Go inside," he directed and held open the cage door, which +immediately swung back into place, and Rochester, following closely +at the prisoner's heels, halted abruptly. A fit of coughing shook +the burglar and he paused by the iron railing, gasping for breath. + +"Water," he pleaded, and a court attendant handed a cup to +Rochester, standing just outside the cage, and he passed it over +the iron railing to the burglar. Then turning on his heel the +lawyer rejoined Clymer, his discontent plainly discernible. + +"A clear case against your client," remarked Clymer, reading his +thoughts. "Don't take the affair to heart, man; you did your +best under difficulties." + +Rochester shook his head gloomily. "I might have - Jove! why didn't +I ask for bail?" + +"Bail!" The banker suppressed a chuckle as he eyed the threadbare +suit and tattered appearance of the burglar, who had resumed his +seat in the prisoner's cage. "Who would have stood surety for that +scarecrow?" + +"I would have." Rochester spoke with some vehemence, but his words +were partly drowned by the violent fit of coughing which again shook +the burglar, and before he could finish his sentence, Helen McIntyre +stood at his elbow. She bowed gravely to Clymer who rose at her +approach, and laid a persuasive hand on Rochester's sleeve. + +"Will you come with us?" she asked. "Barbara and Dr. Stone are +ready to leave. The doctor wishes to -" As she spoke she looked +across at Stone, who stood opposite her in the little group. He +failed to catch both her word and her eye, his gaze, passing over +her shoulder, was riveted on the burglar. + +"Something is wrong," he announced and pushed past Barbara. "Let +me inside the cage," he directed as the deputy marshal kept the gate +closed at his approach. "Your prisoner appears ill." + +One glance at the burglar proved the truth of the physician's +statement and the gate was hastily opened. Stone bent over the man, +whose spasmodic breathing could be heard distinctly through the +court room, then his gaze shifted to the other occupants of the cage. + +"The man must have air," he declared. "Your aid here." Looking up +his eyes met Clymer's, and the latter came swiftly into the cage, +followed by Rochester, and the deputy marshal slammed the door shut +behind them. + +"Step out this way," he said, as Clymer aided the physician in +lifting the burglar, and he led them into the ante-room whence +prisoners were taken into the cage. + +Stretching his burden on the floor, Stone tore open the man's shirt +and felt his heart, while Clymer, spying a water cooler, sped across +the room and returned immediately with a brimming glass. + +"Here's water," he said, but Stone refused the proffered glass. + +"No use," he announced. "The man is dead." + +"Dead!" echoed the deputy marshal. "Well, I'll be - say, doctor," +but Stone had darted out of the room, and he turned open-mouthed to +Clymer. "If it wasn't Doctor Stone I would say he was crazy," he +declared. + +"Tut! Feel the man's heart and convince yourself," suggested +Clymer tartly, and the deputy marshal, dropping on one knee, did so. +Detecting no heart-beat, the officer passed his hand over the dead +man's unshaven chin and across his forehead, brushing back the +unkempt hair. Under his none too gentle touch the wig slipped +back, revealing to his astonished gaze a head of short cropped, red +hair. + +Clymer, who had followed the deputy marshal's movements with +interest, gave a shout which was echoed by Rochester and Dr. Stone, +who returned at that moment. + +"Good God!" gasped Clymer, shaken out of his accustomed calm. +"Jimmie Turnbull!" + +The deputy marshal eyed the startled men. + +"You don't mean -" he stammered, and paused. + +For answer Dr. Stone straightened the dead man and removed the wig. + +"James Turnbull," he said gravely, and turning, addressed Rochester, +who had dropped down on the nearest chair. "Cashier of the +Metropolis Trust Company, Rochester, and your roommate, masquerading +as a burglar." + + +CHAPTER II + +THE GAME OF CONSEQUENCES + +R 0 Chester did not appear to hear Dr. Stone's words. With eyes +half starting from their sockets he sat staring at the dead man, +completely oblivious of the others' presence. After watching him +for a moment the physician turned briskly to the dazed deputy +marshal. + +"Summon the coroner," he directed. "We cannot move the body until +he comes." + +His curt tone brought the official's wits back with a jump and he +made for the exit, only to be stopped at the threshold by a +sandy-haired man just entering the room. + +At the word coroner, Rochester raised himself from his bent attitude +and brushed his hand across his eyes. + +"No need for a coroner to diagnose the case," he objected. "Poor +Turnbull always said he would go off like that." + +Stone moved nearer. "Like that?" he questioned, pointing to the +still figure. "Explain yourself, Rochester. Did Turnbull expect +to die here in this manner?" + +"No - no - certainly not." The lawyer moistened his dry lips. "But +when a man has angina pectoris he knows the end may come at any +moment and in any place. Turnbull made no secret of suffering from +that disease." Rochester turned toward Clymer. "You knew it." + +Benjamin Clymer, who had been gazing alternately at the dead man +and vaguely about the room, looked startled at the abrupt question. + +"I knew Turnbull had bad attacks of the heart; we all knew it at +the bank," he stated. "But I understood the disease had responded +to treatment." + +"There is no cure for angina pectoris," declared Rochester. + +"No permanent cure," amended Stone, and would have added more, but +Rochester stopped him. + +"Now that you know Turnbull died of angina pectoris there is no +necessity of sending for the coroner," Rochester spoke in haste, his +words tumbling over each other. "I will go at once and communicate +with an undertaker." But before he could rise from his chair the +sandy-haired man, who had conducted a whispered conversation with +the deputy marshal, advanced toward the group. + +"Just a moment, gentlemen," he said, and turned back a lapel of his +coat and displayed a metal badge. "I am Ferguson of the Central +Office. Do you know the deceased?" + +"He was my intimate friend," announced Rochester before his +companions could reply to the detective's question, which was +addressed to all. "Mr. Clymer, here, can tell you that Jimmie +Turnbull, cashier of his bank, was well known in financial and +social Washington." + +"How came he here in this fix?" asked Ferguson with more force than +grammatic clarity. + +"A sudden heart attack - angina pectoris, you know," replied +Rochester glibly, "with fatal results." + +"I wasn't alluding to what killed him," Ferguson explained. "But +why was the cashier of the Metropolis Trust Company," he looked +questioningly at Clymer whom he knew quite well by sight, "and a +social high-light, decked out in these clothes and a wig, too?" +leaning down, the better to examine the clothing on the dead man. + +"He had just been held for the Grand Jury on a charge of +house-breaking," volunteered the deputy marshal. "I reckon that +brought on his heart-attack." + +"True, true," agreed Rochester. "The excitement was too much for +him." + +"House-breaking" ejaculated the detective. "Dangerous sport for +a man suffering with angina pectoris, aside from anything else. +Who preferred charges?" + +"The Misses McIntyre," answered the deputy marshal, to whom the +question was addressed. "Like to interview them?" + +"Yes." + +"No, no!" Rochester was on his feet instantly. "There is no +necessity to bring the twins out here - it's too tragic!" + +"Tragic?" echoed Ferguson. "Why?" + +"Why - why - Turnbull was arrested in their house," Rochester was +commencing to stutter. "He was their friend -" + +"Caught burglarizing, heh?" Ferguson's eyes glowed; the case +already whetted his remarkably keen inquisitorial instinct which +had gained him place and certain fame in the Washington police force. +"Are the Misses McIntyre still in the building?" + +"They were in the court room just before we brought Turnbull's body +here," responded the deputy marshal. "I guess they are still +waiting, eh, doctor?" + +Stone, thus appealed to, nodded. "I agree with Mr. Rochester," he +said, and the gravity of his manner impressed Ferguson. "It is +better for me to break the news of Mr. Turnbull's death to the young +ladies before bringing them here. Therefore, with your permission, +Ferguson - He got no further. + +Through the outer entrance of the room came Helen McIntyre and her +sister Barbara, conducted by the same bowing patrolman who had +ushered them into the court room an hour before. + +"My God! Too late!" stammered Rochester under his breath, and he +turned in desperation to Benjamin Clymer. The bank president's +state of mind at the extraordinary masquerade and sudden death of +his popular and trusted cashier bordered on shocked horror, which +had made him a passive witness of the rapidly shifting scene. +Rochester clutched his arm in his agitation. "Get the twins out +of here - do something, man! Don't you know that Turnbull was +in love with -" + +His fervid whisper penetrated further than he realized and one of +the McIntyre twins looked inquiringly in their direction. Clymer, +more startled than his demeanor indicated, wondered if she had +overheard Rochester's ejaculations, but whatever action the banker +contemplated in response to the lawyer's appeal was checked by a +scream from the girl on his right. With ashen face and trembling +finger she pointed to Turnbull's body which suddenly confronted her +as she walked forward. + +"Who is it?" she gasped. "Babs, tell me!" And she held out her +hand imploringly. + +Her sister stepped to her side and bent over Turnbull. When she +looked up her lips alone retained their color. + +"Hush!" she implored, giving her sister a slight shake. "Hush! +It is Jimmie Turnbull. Can you not see for yourself, dear?" + +It seemed doubtful if Helen heard her; with attention wholly +centered on the dead man she swayed on her feet, and Dr. Stone, +thinking she was about to fall, placed a supporting arm about +her. + +"Do you not know Jimmie?" asked her sister. "Don't stare so, +dearest." Her tone was pleading. + +"Perhaps the young lady has some difficulty in recognizing Mr. +Turnbull in his disguise," suggested Ferguson, who stood somewhat +in the background but closely observing the scene. + +"Disguise!" Helen raised her eyes and Ferguson, hardened as he +had become to tragic scenes, felt a throb of pity as he caught +the pent-up agony in her mute appeal. + +"Yes, Miss," he said awkwardly. "The burglar you caught in your +house was Mr. Turnbull in disguise. + +Barbara McIntyre released her grasp of her sister's arm and +collapsed on a chair. Stone, still supporting Helen, felt her +muscles grow taut and an instant later she stepped back from his +side and stood by her sister. As the two girls faced the circle +of men, the likeness between them was extraordinary. Each had +the same slight graceful figure, equal height; and feature for +feature, coloring matching coloring, they were identical; their +gowns, even, were cut on similar lines, only their hats varied in +shape and color. + +"Do I understand, gentlemen," Helen began, and her voice gained +steadiness as she proceeded, "that the burglar whom Officer O'Ryan +and I caught lurking in our house was James Turnbull?" + +"He was," answered Ferguson, and Stone, as the twins looked dumbly +at him, confirmed the detective's statement with a brief, "Yes." + +The silence that ensued was broken by Barbara rising to her feet. + +"Jimmie won his wager," she announced. Her gaze did not waver +before the concentrated regard of the men facing her. "He broke +into our house - but, oh, how can I pay my debt to him now that +he is dead!" + +"Hush!" Helen laid a cautioning hand on her sister's arm as the +latter's voice gained in shrillness, the shrillness of approaching +hysteria. + +"I am all right, Helen." Barbara waved her away impatiently. +"What caused Jimmie's death?" + +"Angina pectoris," declared Rochester. "Too much excitement brought +on a fatal attack." Barbara nodded dazedly. "I knew he had heart +trouble, but -" She stepped toward Turnbull and her voice quivered +with feeling. "Don't leave Jimmie lying there; take him to his +room, doctor," turning entreatingly to Stone. + +The physician looked at her compassionately. "I will, just as soon +as the coroner views the body," he promised. "But come away now, +Babs; this is no place for you and Helen." He signed to the deputy +marshal to open the door as he walked across the room, Barbara +keeping step with him, and her sister following in their wake. +At the door Barbara paused and looked back. + +"Will there be an inquest?" she asked. + +"That's for the coroner to decide," responded Ferguson. "As long +as Mr. Turnbull entered your house on a wager and died from an +attack of angina pectoris the inquest is likely to be a mere +formality. Ah, here is the coroner now," as a man paused in the +doorway. + +Helen McIntyre moved back from the door to make room for Coroner +Penfield. Having had occasion to attend court that morning, he +was passing the door when attracted by the group just inside the +room. Courteously acknowledging Helen's act, Penfield stepped +briskly across the threshold and stopped abruptly on catching sight +of the lonely figure on the floor. + +"Won't you hold an autopsy, Ferguson?" asked Clymer, breaking his +long silence. + +"No, sir, we never do when the cause of death is apparent," the +detective bowed to Coroner Penfield. "Isn't that so, Coroner?" + +Penfield nodded. "Unless the condition of the body indicates foul +play or the relatives specially request it, we do not perform +autopsies," he answered. "What has happened here?" and he gazed +about with quickened interest. + +"Mr. Turnbull, who masqueraded as a burglar on a wager with Miss +McIntyre died suddenly from angina pectoris," explained the deputy +marshal. + +"Just a case of death from natural causes," broke in Rochester. +"Please write out a permit for me to remove Turnbull's body, Dr. +Penfield." + +Helen McIntyre took a step forward. Her eyes, twice their +accustomed size, shone brightly, in contrast to her dead white +face. Carefully avoiding her sister's glance she addressed the +coroner. + +"I must insist," she began and stopped to control her voice. "As +Mr. Turnbull's fiancee, I -" she faltered again. "I demand that +an autopsy be held to determine the cause of his death." + + +CHAPTER III + +THE ROOM WITH THE SEVEN DOORS + +Mrs. Brewster regarded her surroundings with inward satisfaction. +It would have taken a far more captious critic than the pretty +widow to find fault with the large, high-ceilinged room in which +she sat. The handsome carved Venetian furniture, the rich hangings +and valuable paintings on the walls gave evidence of Colonel +McIntyre's artistic taste and appreciation of the beautiful. Mrs. +Brewster had never failed, during her visit to the McIntyre twins, +to examine the rare curios in the carved cabinets and the tapestries +on the walls, but that afternoon, with one eye on the clock and the +other on her embroidery, she sat waiting in growing impatience for +the interruption she anticipated. + +The hands of the clock had passed the hour of five before the buzz +of a distant bell brought her to her feet. Hurrying to the window +she peeped between the curtains in time to see a stylish roadster +electric glide down the driveway leading from the McIntyre residence +and stop at the curb. As she turned to go back to her chair Dr. +Stone was ushered into the library by the footman. Mrs. Brewster +welcomed her cousin with frank relief. + +"I have waited so impatiently for you," she confessed, making room +for him to sit on the sofa by her side. + +"I was detained, Margaret." Stone's voice was not over-cordial; +three imperative telephone calls from her, coming at a moment when +he had been engaged with a serious case in his office, had provoked +him. "Do you wish to see me professionally?" + +"Indeed, I don't." She laughed frankly. "I am the picture of +health." + +Stone, observing her fine coloring and clear eyes, silently agreed +with her. The widow made a charming picture in her modish tea-gown, +and the physician, watching her with an appraising eye, acknowledged +the beauty which had captivated all Washington. Mrs. Brewster had +carried her honors tactfully, a fact which had gained her popularity +even among the dowagers and match-making mothers who take an active +part in Washington's social season. + +"Then, Margaret, what do you wish to see me about?" Stone asked, +after waiting without result for her to continue speaking. + +She laughed softly. "You are the most practical of men," she said. +"It would not have been so difficult to find a companion anxious to +spend the whole afternoon with me for my sake alone." + +"Colonel McIntyre, for instance?" he teased, and laughed amusedly +at her heightened color. "Have a care, Margaret; McIntyre's +flirtations are all very well, but he is the type of man to be +deadly in earnest when once he falls in love." + +"Thanks for your warning," Mrs. Brewster smiled, then grew serious. +"I sent for you to ask about Jimmie Turnbull's death this morning. +Barbara told me you accompanied them to the police court." + +"Yes. Why weren't you with the girls?" + +"Because I was told nothing of their trip to the, police court +until they had returned," she replied. "How horribly tragic the +whole affair is!" And a shiver she could not suppress crept down +her spine. + +"It is," agreed Stone. "What possessed Jimmie Turnbull to play so +mad a trick?" + +"His wager with Barbara." + +Stone leaned a little nearer. "Have you learned the nature of that +wager?" he asked, lowering his voice. + +"No. Babs was in so hysterical a condition when she returned from +the police court that she gave a very incoherent account of the +whole affair, and she has kept her room ever since luncheon," +explained Mrs. Brewster. + +Stone looked puzzled. "I understood that Jimmie was attentive to +Helen McIntyre and not to Barbara," he said. "But upon my word, +Barbara appeared more overcome by Jimmie's death than Helen." + +Mrs. Brewster did not reply at once; instead, she glanced carefully +around. The room was generally the rallying place of the McIntyres. +It stretched across almost the entire width of the house; the +diamond-paned and recessed windows gave it a medieval air in keeping +with its antique furniture, and the seven doors opening from it +led, respectively, to the large dining room beyond, a morning room, +billiard room, the front and back halls, and the Italian loggia +which over-looked the stretch of ground between the McIntyre +residence and its neighbor on the north. Apparently, she and Dr. +Stone had the room to themselves. + +"I cannot answer your question with positiveness," she stated. +"Frankly, Jimmie appeared impartial in his attentions to the twins. +When he wasn't with Barbara he was with Helen, and vice versa." + +Stone gazed at her in some perplexity. "Are you aware that Helen +stated at the police court this morning that she was Turnbull's +fiancee?" + +"What!" Mrs. Brewster actually bounced in her seat. "You - you +astound me!" + +"I was a bit surprised myself," acknowledged the physician. "I +thought Rochester - however, that is neither here nor there. Helen +not only announced she was Jimmie's fiancee but as such demanded +that a post-mortem examination be held to determine the cause of +his death." + +Mrs. Brewster's pretty color faded and the glance she turned on her +cousin was sharp. "Why should Helen suspect foul play?" she demanded. +"For that is what her request hinted." + +"True." Stone pulled his beard absentmindedly. "Ah, here is Colonel +McIntyre," he exclaimed as the portieres before the hall door parted +and a tall man strode into the library. + +McIntyre was a favorite with the old physician, and he welcomed his +arrival with warmth. Exchanging a word of greeting with Mrs. +Brewster, McIntyre drew up a chair and dropped into it. + +"I called at your office, doctor," he said. "Went there at once on +learning the shocking news about poor Turnbull. Why in the world +didn't he announce who he was when my daughter had him arrested as +a burglar? He must have realized that prolonged excitement was bad +for his weak heart." + +Mrs. Brewster, who had settled herself more comfortably in her corner +of the sofa on McIntyre's arrival, answered his remark. + +"I only knew Jimmie superficially," she said, "but he had one +distinguishing trait patent to all, his inordinate fondness for +practical jokes. Probably the predicament he found himself in +was highly to his taste - until his heart failed." + +Her voice, slightly raised, carried across the room and reached the +ears of a tall, slender girl who had stood hesitating on the +threshold of the dining worn door on beholding the group by the +sofa. All hesitation vanished, however, as the meaning of Mrs. +Brewster's remark dawned on her, and she walked over to the sofa. + +"You are very unjust, Margaret," she stated, and at sound of her +low triante voice McIntyre whirled around and frowned slightly. +"Jimmie was thinking of the predicament of others, not of himself." + +"What do you mean, Helen?" her father demanded. + +"Why, how could Jimmie reveal his identity in court without +involving us?" she asked. "Good afternoon, doctor," recollecting +her manners, and her attention thus diverted, she missed the sudden +questioning look which Mrs. Brewster and her father exchanged. "No," +she continued, "Jimmie sacrificed himself for others." + +"By becoming a burglar." McIntyre laughed shortly. "Don't talk +arrant nonsense, Helen." + +The girl flushed at his tone, and Dr. Stone, an interested onlooker, +marveled at the fleeting flash of disdain which lighted her dark +eyes. Stone's interest grew. The McIntyre family had always been +particularly congenial, and the devotion of Colonel McIntyre (left +a widower when the twins were in short frocks) to his daughters had +been commented on frequently by their wide circle of friends in +Washington and by acquaintances made in their travels abroad. + +Colonel McIntyre had married when quite a young man. Frugality and +industry and a brilliant mind had reaped their reward, and, wiser +than the majority of Americans, he retired early from business and +devoted himself to a life of leisure and the education of his +daughters. Their debut the previous autumn had been one of the +social events of the Washington season, and the instant popularity +the girls had attained proved a source of pride to Colonel McIntyre. +His chief pleasure consisted in gratifying their every whim, and +Dr. Stone, knowing the family as he did, wondered at the faintly +discernible air of constraint in the girl's manner. Usually frank +to a sometimes embarrassing degree, she appeared to some disadvantage +as she sat gazing moodily at the tips of her patent-leather pumps. +Dr. Stone's attention shifted to Colonel McIntyre and lastly to +the pretty widow at his elbow. Had Dame Rumor spoken truly in the +report, widely circulated, that the colonel had fallen a victim to +the charms of Margaret Brewster, his daughters' guest? If so, it +might account for the young girl's manner - however devoted +McIntyre's daughters might be to Mrs. Brewster as a friend and +companion, they might resent having so young a woman for their +step-mother. + +Not receiving any reply to his remarks, McIntyre was about to +address his daughter again when she spoke. + +"Jimmie will be justified," she declared stoutly. "Has the coroner +held the autopsy yet, Dr. Stone?" + +"Autopsy!" McIntyre spoke with sharp abruptness. "I thought it was +clearly established that Jimmie died from angina pectoris?" + +"It is so believed," responded Stone. His mystification was growing; +had not Helen informed her father of the scene which had transpired +at the police court, and of her request to the coroner? "I +understand the post-mortem examination will be made this afternoon, +Helen." + +A heavy paper knife, nicely balanced between McIntyre's well +manicured fingers, dropped to the floor as a step sounded behind +him and the butler, Grimes, stopped by his side. + +"Mr. Rochester just telephoned that his partner, Mr. Harry Kent, is +out of town, Miss" - bowing to the silent girl. Grimes always +contented himself with addressing his "young ladies" by the simple +prefix "Miss," and never added their given names, because, as he +expressed it, "them twins are alike as two peas, and which is which, +I dunno." Considering himself one of the family from his long +service with Colonel McIntyre, he kept a watchful eye on the twins, +but their pranks in childhood had often exasperated him into giving +notice, which he generally found it convenient to forget when the +first of a new month came around. + +"Mr. Kent will be back to-morrow," added the butler, as silence +followed the delivery of his message. "Mr. Rochester wishes to know +if he can transact any business for you." + +"Please thank him and say no." The girl's color rose as she caught +her father's disapproving look. The colonel waited until the butler +had disappeared before addressing her. + +"Why did you send for Harry Kent?" he questioned. "You know I do +not approve of his attentions to Barbara. Rochester is well +enough -" + +"Speaking of Rochester "- Mrs. Brewster saw the gathering storm +clouds in the girl's expressive eyes, and broke hastily into the +conversation. "I see by the paper, Cousin Amos" - she turned so +as to face Dr. Stone -" that Mr. Rochester declared positively +that Jimmie Turnbull died from angina pectoris." + +"What's Philip's opinion worth?" The young girl smiled disdainfully. +"Philip seems to think that having shared an apartment with Jimmie, +gives him intimate knowledge of Jimmie's health. Philip is not a +medical man." + +"No," acknowledged her father. "But here is a medical man who was +on the spot when Jimmie died. What's your opinion, Stone?" + +Stone, suddenly conscious of the keen attention of his companions, +spoke slowly as was his wont when making a serious statement. + +"Rochester's contention that Jimmie died from angina pectoris would +seem borne out by what transpired," he said. "Undoubtedly Jimmie +felt an attack coming on and used the customary remedy to relieve +it -" + +"And what was that remedy?" questioned Mrs. Brewster swiftly. + +"Amy1 nitrite." Stone spoke with decision. "I could detect its +presence by the fruity, pleasant odor which always accompanies the +drug's use." + +"Ah!" The exclamation slipped from Mrs. Brewster. "Is the drug +administered in water?" + +"No, it is inhaled - take care, you have dropped your handkerchief." +Stone pulled himself up short in his speech, and bent over but the +young girl was too quick for him, and stooped first to pick up her +handkerchief. + +As she raised her head Stone caught sight of the tiny mole under +the lobe of her left ear. It was the one mark which distinguished +Barbara from her twin sister. Colonel McIntyre had addressed his +daughter as Helen, and she had not undeceived him - Why? The +perplexed physician gave up the problem. + +"The drug," he went on to explain, "amyl nitrite comes in pearl +capsules and is crushed in a handkerchief and the fumes inhaled." + +Mrs. Brewster leaned forward suddenly. "Would that cause death?" +she asked. + +Stone shook his head in denial. "Not the customary dose of three +minims," he answered, and turning, found that Barbara had stolen +from the room. + + +CHAPTER IV + +BARBARA ENGAGES COUNSEL + +Bidding a hasty good morning to the elevator girl, Harry Kent, +suit-case in hand, entered the cage and was carried up to the +fourth floor of the Wilkins Building. Several business +acquaintances stopped to chat with him as he walked down the +corridor to his office, and it was fully fifteen minutes before he +turned the knob of the door bearing the firm name - ROCHESTER AND +KENT, ATTORNEYS - on its glass panel. As he stepped inside the +anteroom which separated the two offices occupied respectively by +him and his senior partner, Philip Rochester, a stranger rose from +the clerk's desk. + +"Yes, sir?" he asked interrogatively. + +Kent eyed him in surprise. "Mr. Rochester here? " he inquired. + +"No, sir. It am in charge of the office." + +"You are!" Kent's surprise increased. "I happen to be Mr. Kent, +junior partner in this firm." + +"I beg your pardon, sir." The dapper clerk bowed and hurrying to +his desk took up a letter. "Mr. Rochester left this for you, Mr. +Kent, before his departure last night." + +"His departure!" Kent deposited his suit-case on one of the chairs +and tore open the envelope. The note was a scrawl, which he had +some difficulty in deciphering. + +"Dear Kent," it ran. "Am called out of town; will be back Saturday. +Saunders gave me some of his cheek this afternoon, so I fired him. +I engaged John Sylvester to fill his place, who comes highly +recommended. He will report for work to-morrow. Ta-ta - PHIL." + + +Kent thrust the note into his pocket and picked up his suit-case. + +"Mr. Rochester states that he has engaged you," he said. "Your +references -?" + +"Here, sir." The clerk handed him a folded paper, and Kent ran his +eyes down the sheet from the sentence: "To whom it may concern" +to the signature, Clark Hildebrand. The statement spoke in high +terms of John Sylvester, confidential clerk. + +"I can refer you to my other employers, Mr. Kent," Sylvester +volunteered as the young lawyer stood regarding the paper. "If you, +desire further information there is Mr. Clymer and -" + +"No, Judge Hildebrand'S recommendation is sufficient." And at Kent's +smile the clerk's anxious expression vanished. "Did Mr. Rochester +give you any outline of the work?" + +"Yes, sir; he told me to file the papers in the Hitchcock case, and +attend to the morning correspondence." + +"Very good. Has any one called this morning?" + +"No, sir. These letters were addressed to you personally, and I +have not opened them," Sylvester handed a neatly arranged package +to Kent. "These," indicating several letters lying open on his desk, +"are to the firm." + +"Bring them to me in half an hour," and Kent walked into his private +office, carefully closing the door behind him. Opening his suit-case +he took out his brief bag and laid it on the desk in front of him +together with the package of letters. Instead of opening the letters +immediately, he tilted back in his chair and regarded the opposite +wall in deep thought. Philip Rochester could not have selected a +worse time to absent himself; three important cases were on the +calendar for immediate trial and much depended on the firm's +successful handling of them. Kent swore softly under his breath; +his last warning to Rochester, that he would dissolve their +partnership if the older man continued to neglect his practice, had +been given only a month before and upon Kent's return from eight +months' service in the Judge Advocate General's Department in France. +Apparently his warning had fallen on deaf ears and Rochester was +indulging in another periodic spree, for so Kent concluded, recalling +the unsteady penmanship of the note handed to him by the new clerk, +John Sylvester. + +Kent was still frowning at the opposite wall when a faint knock +sounded, and at his call Sylvester entered. + +"Here are the letters received this morning, sir, and type-written +copies of the answers to yesterday's correspondence which Mr. +Rochester dictated before leaving," Sylvester explained as he +placed the papers on Kent's desk. "If you will o.k. them, I will +mail them at once." + +Kent went through the letters with care, and the new clerk rose in +his estimation as he read the excellent dictation of the clearly +typed answers. + +"These will do admirably," he announced. "Sit down and I will reply +to the other letters." + +At the end of an hour Sylvester closed his stenographic note book +and collected the correspondence, by that time scattered over Kent's +desk. + +"I'll have these notes ready for your signature before lunch," he +said as he picked up a newspaper from the floor where it had tumbled +during Kent's search for some particu1ar letter heads. "I brought +in the morning paper, sir; thought perhaps you had not seen it." + +"Thanks." Kent swung his chair nearer the window and opened the +newspaper. He had purchased a copy when walking through Union +Station on his arrival, but had left it in the cafeteria where he +had snatched a cup of coffee and hot rolls before hurrying to his +office. + +He read a column devoted to international affairs, scanned an +account of a senatorial wrangle, and was about to turn to the second +page, whistling cheerily, when his attention was arrested by the +headings: + + BANK CASHIER DIES IN POLICE COURT + JAMES TURNBULL, MISTAKEN FOR BURGLAR, + SUFFERS FATAL ATTACK OF ANGINA PECTORIS + +Kent's whistle stopped abruptly, and clutching the paper in both +hands, he devoured the short account printed under the scare heads: + + "While masquerading as a burglar on a wager, + James Turnbull, cashier of the Metropolis Trust + Company, was arrested by Officer O'Ryan at an + early hour yesterday morning in the residence of + Colonel Charles McIntyre. + + "Officer O'Ryan conducted his prisoner to the + 8th Precinct Police Station, and later he was + arraigned in the police court. The Misses + McIntyre appeared in person to prefer the + charges against the supposed burglar, who, on + being sworn, gave the name of John Smith. + + "Philip Rochester, the well known criminal + lawyer, was assigned by the court to defend the + prisoner. Upon the evidence submitted Judge + Mackall held the prisoner for trial by the grand + jury. + + "It was just after the Judge's announcement + that 'John Smith,' then sitting in the prisoners + cage, was seized with the attack of angina pectoris + which ended so fatally a few minutes later. + It was not until after he had expired that those + rendering him medical assistance became aware + that he was James Turnbull in disguise. + + "James Turnbull was a native of Washington, + his father, the late Hon Josiah Turnbull of + Connecticut, having made this city his permanent + home in the early '90s. Mr. Turnbull was looked + upon as one of the rising young men in banking + circles; he was also prominent socially, was a + member of the Alibi, Metropolitan, and Country + Clubs, and until recently was active in all forms + of athletics, when his ill-health precluded active + exercise. + + "Officer O'Ryan, who was greatly shocked by + the fatal termination to Mr. Turnbull's rash + wager, stated to the representatives of the press + that Mr. Turnbull gave no hint of his identity + while being interrogated at the 8th Precinct + Station. Friends attribute Mr. Turnbull's + disinclination to reveal himself to the court, to + his enjoyment of a practical joke, not realizing + that the resultant excitement of the scene would + react on his weak heart. + + "Mr. Turnbull is survived by a great aunt; he had + no nearer relatives living. It is a singular + coincidence that the lawyer appointed by the + court to defend Turnbull was his intimate friend, + Philip Rochester, who made his home with the + deceased." + +Kent read the column over and over, then, letting the paper slip +to the floor, sat back in his chair, too dumb-founded for words. +Jimmie Turnbull arrested as a burglar in the home of the girl he +loved on charges preferred by her, and defended in court by his +intimate friend, both of whom were unaware of his identity! Kent +rumpled his fair hair until it stood upright. And Jimmie's death +had followed almost immediately as the result of over-excitement! + +Kent's eyes grew moist; he had been very fond of the eccentric, +lovable bank cashier, whose knack of performing many a kindly act, +unsolicited, had endeared him to friends and acquaintances alike. +Kent had seen much of him after his return from France, for Jimmie's +attention to Helen McIntyre had been only second to Kent's devotion +to the latter's sister, Barbara. The two men had one bond in common. +Colonel McIntyre disliked them and discouraged their calling, to the +secret fury of both, but love had found a way - Kent's eyes kindled +at the recollection of Barbara's half-shy, wholly tender reception +of his ardent pleading. + +Turnbull's courtship had met with a set-back where he had least +expected it - Philip Rochester had fallen deeply in love with Helen +and, encouraged by her father, had pressed his suit with ardor. +Frequent quarrels between the two close friends had been the outcome, +and Jimmie had confided to Kent, before the latter left on the +business trip to Chicago from which he had returned that morning, +that the situation had become intolerable and he had notified +Rochester that he would no longer share his apartment with him, and +to look for other quarters as quickly as possible. + +So buried was Kent in his thoughts that he never heard Sylvester's +knock, and it was not until the clerk stood at his elbow that he +awoke from his absorption. + +"A lady to see you, Mr. Kent," he announced. "Shall I show her in?" + +"Certainly - her name?" + +"She gave none." Sylvester paused on his way back to the door. +"It is one of the Misses McIntyre." + +"Good Lord!" Kent was on his feet, straightening his tie and +brushing his rumpled hair. "Here, wait a minute "- clutching a +whisk broom in a frantic endeavor to remove some of the signs of +travel which still clung to him. But he had only opportunity for +one dab at his left shoulder before Barbara entered the office. +All else forgotten, Kent tossed down the whisk broom and the next +instant he had clasped her hand in both of his, his eyes telling +more eloquently than his stumbling words, his joy at seeing her +again. + +"This is a business call," she stated demurely, on you and Mr. +Rochester." Her lovely eyes held a glint of mischief as she +mentioned Kent's partner, then her expression grew serious. "I +want legal advice." + +"I am afraid you will have to put up with me," Kent moved his chair +closer to the one she had selected by the desk. "Rochester is out +of town." + +"What!" Barbara sat bolt upright. "Where - where's he gone?" + +"I don't know "- Kent pulled Rochester's letter out of his pocket +and re-read it. "He did not mention where he was going." + +Barbara stared at him; she had paled. + +"When did Philip leave?" + +"Last night, I presume." Kent tipped back his chair and pressed +a buzzer; a second later Sylvester appeared in the doorway. + +"Did Mr. Rochester tell you where he was going?" he asked the clerk. + +"No, sir. Mr. Rochester stated that you had his address. + +"I?" Kent concealed his growing surprise. "Did he leave any message +for me, other than the letter?" + +"No, sir. + +"At what hour did he leave the office?" + +"I can't say, sir; he was still here when I went away at five +o'clock. He gave me a key to the office so that I could get in +this morning." Kent remained silent, and he added, "Is that all, +sir?" + +"Yes, thanks," and the clerk retired. + +As the door closed Barbara turned to Kent. "Have you heard about +Jimmie Turnbull?" + +Her voice was a bit breathless as she put the question, but Kent, +puzzling over his partner's eccentric conduct, hardly noted her +agitation. + +"Yes. I saw the account just now in the morning paper," he answered. +"A shocking affair. Poor Turnbull! He was a good fellow." + +"He was!" Barbara spoke with unaccustomed vehemence, and looking +at her Kent saw that her eyes were filled with tears. Impulsively +he threw his arm about her, holding her close. + +"My heart's dearest," he murmured fondly. "If there is anything +- anything I can do -" + +Barbara straightened up and winked away the tears. "There is," she +said tersely. "Investigate Jimmie's death." + +Kent gazed at her in astonishment. "Please explain," he suggested. +"The morning paper states very plainly that the cause of death was an +attack of angina pectoris." + +"Yes, I know, and that is what Philip Rochester contends also." +Barbara paused and glanced about the office; they had the room to +themselves. "B-but Helen believes otherwise." + +Kent drew back. "What do you mean, Babs?" he demanded. + +"Just that," Barbara spoke wearily, and Kent, giving her close +attention, grew aware of dark shadows under her eyes which told +plainly of a sleepless night. "I want to engage you as our counsel +to help Helen find out about Jimmie's death." + +"Find out what?" asked Kent, his bewilderment increasing. "Do you +mean that Jimmie's death was not the result of a dangerous heart +disease, but of foul play?" + +Barbara nodded her head vigorously. "Yes." + +Kent sat back in his chair and regarded her in silence for a second. +"How could that be, Babs, in an open police court with dozens of +spectators all about?" he asked. "The slightest attempt to kill +him would have been frustrated by the police officials; remember, +a prisoner especially, is hedged in and guarded." + +"Well, he wasn't so very hedged in," retorted Barbara. "I was there +and saw how closely people approached Jimmie." + +"Did you observe any one hand him anything?" + +"N-no," Barbara drawled the word as she strove to visualize the +scene in the court room; then catching Kent's look of doubt she +added with unmistakable emphasis. "Helen and I do not believe +that Jimmie died from natural causes; we think the tragedy should +be investigated." Her soft voice deepened. "I must know the +truth, Harry, dear; for I feel that perhaps I am responsible for +Jimmie's death." + +"You!" Kent's voice rose in indignant protest. "Absurd!" + +"No, it isn't If it had not been for my wager with Jimmie, he +never would have entered our house disguised as a burglar." + +"What brought about the wager?" + +"Last Sunday Helen was boasting of her two new police dogs which +Philip Rochester recently gave her, and said how safe she felt. +We've had several burglaries in our neighborhood," Barbara explained, +"and when Jimmie scoffed at the dogs, I bet him that he could not +break into the house without the dogs arousing the household. I +never once thought about Jimmie's heart trouble," she confessed, +and her lips quivered. "I feel so guilty." + +"You are inconsistent, Babs," chided Kent gently. "One moment you +reproach yourself for being the cause of bringing on Jimmie's heart +attack, and the next you declare you believe he died through foul +play. You," looking at her tenderly, while a whimsical smile +softened his stern mouth, "don't go so far as to claim you murdered +him, do you?" + +"Of course I didn't!" Barbara spoke with indignant emphasis, and +her fingers snapped in uncontrollable nervousness. "Jimmie was +very dear" - she hesitated - "to us. Neither Helen nor I can leave +a stone unturned until we know without a shadow of a doubt what +killed him." + +"That is easily proven," declared Kent. "An autopsy -" + +"Helen asked the coroner to hold one." + +Kent stared - the twins were certainly in earnest. + +"My advice to you is to wait until you hear the result of the +post-mortem from Coroner Penfield," he said gravely. "Until we know +definitely what killed Jimmie, speculation is idle." + +Barbara rose at once. "I thought you would be more sympathetic," +she remarked, and her voice was a bit unsteady. "I am sorry to +have troubled you." + +In an instant Kent was by her side. "Barbara," he entreated. "I +promise solemnly to aid you in every possible way. My only +happiness is in serving you," his voice was very tender. "I slave +here day in and day out that I may sometime be able to make a home +for you. Don't leave me in anger." + +"I was not angry, only deeply hurt," Barbara confessed. "I have so +longed to see you. I - I needed you! I -" The rest was lost as she +bowed her head against Kent's broad shoulder, and his impassioned +whispers of devotion brought solace to her troubled spirit. + +"I must go," declared Barbara ten minutes later. "Father would make +a fearful scene if he knew I had been here to see you." She picked +up her hand-bag, preparatory to leaving. "Then I can tell Helen +that you will aid us?" + +"Yes." Kent stopped on his way to the door. "I will try and see +the coroner this afternoon. In the meantime, Babs, can't you tell +me what makes you suspect that Jimmie might have been killed?" + +"I have nothing tangible to go on," she admitted. "Only a woman's +instinct -" + +Kent did not smile. "Instinct," he repeated thoughtfully. "Well, +does your instinct hazard a guess as to the weapon, the opportunity, +and the motive for such a crime? Jimmie Turnbull hadn't an enemy +in the world." + +Barbara looked at him oddly. "Suppose you find the answer to those +conundrums," she suggested. "Don't come to the elevator; Margaret +Brewster may see you with me, and she would tell father of our +meeting. + + +"Is Mrs. Brewster still with you?" asked Kent, paying no attention +to her protests as he accompanied her down the corridor. "I +understood she planned to return to the West last week." + +"She did, but father persuaded her to prolong her visit," Barbara +was guilty of a grimace, then hailing the descending elevator she +bolted into it and waved her good-by to Kent as the cage shot +downward. + +When Kent reentered his office he found Sylvester hanging up the +telephone receiver. + +"Mr. Clymer has telephoned to ask if you will come to the Metropolis +Trust Company at once," he said, and before Kent could frame a +reply he had darted into the coat closet and brought out his hat and +cane, and handed them to him. + +"Don't wait for me, but go out for your luncheon," directed Kent, +observing the hour. "I have my key and can get in when I return if +you should not be here," and not waiting to hear Sylvester's thanks, +he hurried away. + +The clock over the bank had just struck noon when Kent reached the +fine office building which housed the Metropolis Trust Company, and +as he entered the bank, a messenger stopped him. + +"Mr. Clymer is waiting for you in his private office, sir," he said, +and led the way past the long rows of mahogany counters and plate +glass windows to the back of the bank, finally stopping before a door +bearing the name, in modest lettering- BENJAMIN AUGUSTUS CLYMER. +The bank president was sensitive on one point; he never permitted +initials only to be used before his name. The messenger's +deferential knock was answered by a gruff command to enter. Clymer +welcomed Kent with an air of relief. + +"You know Colonel McIntyre," he said by way of introduction, and +Kent became aware that the tall man lounging with his back to him +in one of the leather covered chairs was Barbara's father. Colonel +McIntyre returned Kent's bow with a curt nod, and then Clymer +pushed forward a chair. + +"Sit down, Kent," he began. "You have already handled several +confidential affairs for the bank in a satisfactory manner, and +I have sent for you to-day to ask your aid in an urgent matter. +Before I go further I must ask you to treat what I am about to say +as strictly confidential." + +"Certainly, Mr. Clymer." + +"Good! Then draw up your chair." Clymer waited until Kent had +complied with his request. "You have heard of Jimmie Turnbull's +sudden and tragic death?" + +"Yes." + +"As you know, he was cashier of this bank." Clymer spoke with +deliberation. "Soon after word reached here of his death, the +vice-president and treasurer of the bank had a careful examination +made of his books and accounts." Clymer paused to clear his throat; +he was troubled with an irritating cough. "Turnbull's accounts +were found in first class order." + +"I am sure they would be, Mr. Clymer," exclaimed Kent warmly. "Any +one who knew Jimmie would never doubt his honesty." + +McIntyre turned in his chair and regarded the speaker with no +friendly eye, but aside from that, took no part in the conversation. +Clymer did not at once resume speaking. + +"To-day," he commenced finally, "Colonel McIntyre called at the +bank and asked the treasurer, Mr. Gilmore, for certain valuable +negotiable securities which he left in the bank's care a month ago. +Mr. Gilmore told Colonel McIntyre that these securities had been +given to Jimmie Turnbull last Saturday on his presentation of a +letter from McIntyre requesting that they be turned over to the +bank's cashier. McIntyre expressed his surprise and asked to see +the letter " - Clymer paused and took a paper from his desk. "Here +is the letter." + +Kent took the paper and examined it closely. + +"This is perfectly in order," he said. "A clear statement in +Colonel McIntyre's handwriting and on his stationery. + +For the first time Colonel McIntyre addressed him. + +"The letter is in order," he acknowledged, "and written on my +stationery, but it was not written by me. The letter is a clever +forgery." + + +CHAPTER V + +THE VANISHING MAN + +It still lacked twenty minutes of nine o'clock that night when Harry +Kent turned into the Saratoga apartment hotel, and not waiting to +take one of the elevators, ran up the staircase to the apartment +which had been occupied jointly by Jimmie Turnbull and Philip +Rochester. Kent had already selected the right key from among those +on the bunch he had found in Rochester's desk at the office, and +slipping it into the key-hole of the outer door, he turned the lock +and walked noiselessly inside the dark apartment. + +The soft click of the outer door as it swung to was hardly +noticeable, and Kent, pausing only long enough to get his breath +from his run up the staircase, stepped into the living room and +reached for the electric light switch. Instead of encountering the +cold metal of the switch his groping fingers closed over warm flesh. + +Startled as he was, Kent retained enough presence of mind to grasp +the hand tightly; the next second a man hurled himself upon him and +he gave back. Furniture in the path of the struggling men was +overturned as they fought in silent desperation. Kent would have +given much for light. He strained his eyes to see his adversary, +but the pitch darkness concealed all but the vaguest outline. As +Kent got his second wind, confidence in his strength returned and he +redoubled his efforts; suddenly his hands shifted their grip and he +swung his adversary backward, pinning him against the wall. + +A faint, sobbing breath escaped the man, and Kent felt the whole +figure against which he pressed, quiver and relax; the taut muscles +of chest and arms grew slack, collapsed. + +Kent stood in wonderment, peering ahead, his hands empty - the man +had vanished! + +Drawing a long, long breath Kent felt his way back to the electric +switch and pressed the button, lighting both the wall brackets and +the table lamps. With both hands on his throbbing temples he gazed +at the over-turned chairs; they, as well as his aching throat, +testified to his encounter having been a reality and not a fantastic +dream. His glance traveled this way and that about the room and +rested longest on the opposite side of the room where he had pinned +the man to the wall. Wall -! Kent leaned against a tall highboy +and laughed weakly, immoderately. He had pushed the man straight +against the door leading into Rochester's bedroom, and not, as he +had supposed, against the solid wall. + +The man had been quick-witted enough to grasp the situation; his +pretended weakness had caused Kent to relax his hold, a turn of +the knob of the door, which swung inward, and he had made his escape +into the bedroom, leaving Kent staring into dark, empty space. + +Gathering his wits together Kent hurried into the bedroom - it was +empty; so also was the bathroom opening from it. From there Kent +made the rounds of the apartment, switching on the light until the +place was ablaze, but in spite of his minute search of closets and +under beds and behind furniture he could find no trace of his +late adversary. Kent stopped long enough in the pantry to refresh +himself with a glass of water, then he returned to the living room +and sat down in an arm chair by the window. He wanted time to think. + +How had the man vanished so utterly, leaving no trace behind in the +apartment? The window in Rochester's room was locked on the inside; +in fact, all the apartment windows were securely fastened, he had +found on his tour of inspection; the only one not locked was the +oval, swinging window high up in the side wall of the bathroom; +only a child could squeeze through it, Kent decided. The window +looked into a well formed by the wings of the apartment house, and +had a sheer drop of fifty feet to the ground below. + +But for his unfortunate luck in backing the man against the bedroom +door instead of the wall he would not have escaped, but how had the +man realized so instantly that he was against a door in the pitch +darkness? It certainly showed familiarity with his surroundings. +Kent sat upright as an idea flashed through his brain - was the man +Philip Rochester? + +Kent scouted the idea but it persisted. Suppose it had been Philip +Rochester awakened from a drunken slumber by his entrance in the dark; +if so, nothing more likely than that he had mistaken him, Kent, for +a burglar and sprung at him. But why had he disappeared without +revealing his identity to Kent? Surely the same reason worked both +ways - the man who had wrestled with him was as unaware of Kent's +identity as Kent was of his - they had fought in the dark and in +silence. + +Kent laughed aloud. The situation had its amusing side; then, as +recollection came of the scene in the bank that morning, his mirth +changed to grim seriousness. At his earnest solicitation and backed +by Benjamin Clymer's endorsement of his plan, Colonel McIntyre had +agreed to give him until Saturday night to locate the missing +securities; if he failed, then the colonel proposed placing the +affair in the hands of the authorities. + +Kent's firm mouth settled into dogged lines at the thought; such a +procedure meant besmirching Jimmie Turnbull's name; let the public +get the slightest inkling that the bank cashier was suspected of +forgery and there would be the devil to pay. Kent was determined +to protect the honor of his dead friend, and to aid Helen McIntyre +in her investigation of his sudden death. + +Jimmie Turnbull had been the soul of honor; that he had ever stooped +to forgery was unbelievable. There was some explanation favorable +to him - there must be. Kent's clenched fist struck the arm of his, +chair a vigorous blow and he leapt to his feet. Wasting no further +time on speculation, he commenced a systematic search of the +apartment, replacing each chair and table as well as the rugs which +had been over-turned in his recent tussle, after which he tried the +drawers of Jimmie's desk. They were unlocked. A careful search +brought nothing to light but receipted bills, some loose change, old +dinner cards, theater programs, tea invitations, and several packages +of cigarettes. + +Turning from the desk Kent walked over to the table which he knew +was Philip Rochester's property; he recalled having once seen Jimmie +place some papers there by mistake; having done so once, the mistake +might have occurred again. Taking out his partner's bunch of keys, +he soon found one that fitted and opened the drawers. He had half +completed his task, without finding any clew to the missing +securities, when he was interrupted by the sound of the opening of +the front door, and had but time to slam the drawers shut and pocket +the keys when the night clerk of the hotel stepped inside the +apartment and, closely followed by a sandy-haired man, walked into +the living room. He halted abruptly at sight of Kent. + +"Good evening, Mr. Kent," he exclaimed, and took in at a glance the +orderly arrangement of the room. "Pardon my unceremonious entrance, +but I had no idea you were here, sir; we received a telephone +message that a burglar had broken in here." + +"You did!" Kent stared at him. Was he right, after all, in his +conjecture; had the man been Philip Rochester? It would seem so, +for who else, after taking refuge elsewhere, would have telephoned +a warning of burglars to the hotel office? "Have you any idea who +sent the message, Mr. Stuart?" + +"I have not; it was an out-side call -" Stuart turned to his +companion. "Sorry I brought you here on an idiotic chase, Mr. +Ferguson." + +"That's all right," responded the detective good naturedly. "Would +you like me to look through the apartment just to see if any one +really is concealed on the premises, Mr. Kent?" he asked, and added +quickly, seeing Kent hesitate, "I am from the central office; Mr. +Stuart can vouch for me." + +Kent's hesitation vanished. "I'd be obliged if you would, Ferguson." +As he spoke he led the way to Rochester's bedroom. "Come with us, +Stuart," as the clerk loitered behind. + +"Guess not, sir; I'm needed down at the desk, we are short-handed +to-night. Let me know how the hunt turns out," and he stepped into +the vestibule. "Good night." + +"Good night," called Kent, and he accompanied Ferguson as far as the +bathroom door, then returned to his inspection of Rochester's table. +He had just completed his task when the detective rejoined him. + +"No trace of any one," the latter announced. "Some one put up a +joke on Stuart, I imagine. Find what you wished, sir?" + +Kent was distinctly annoyed by the question. "Yes," he replied +shortly. + +Ferguson ignored his curt tone. "Will you spare me a few minutes +of your time, Mr. Kent?" he asked persuasively. "I won't detain +you long." + +"Certainly." Kent moved over to the chair in the window which he +had occupied before and pointed to another, equally as comfortable. + +"What can I do for you?" he asked as Ferguson dropped back and +stretched himself in the soft depths of the big chair. + +"Supply some information," answered the detective promptly. "Just +a minute," as Kent started to interrupt. "You don't recall me, but +I met you while working on the Chase case; you handled that trial +in great shape," Ferguson looked admiringly at his companion. "Lots +of the praise went to your partner, Mr. Rochester, but I know you +did the work. Now, please let me finish," holding up a protesting +hand. "I know you've carried Mr. Rochester in your firm; he's dead +wood." Kent was silent. What the detective said was only too true. +Rochester, realizing the talent and industry which characterized +his younger partner, had withdrawn more and more from active +practice, and had devoted himself to the social life of the National +Capital. + +"This is rather a long-winded way of reaching my point," finished +the detective. "But, Mr. Kent, I want your assistance in a puzzling +case." + +"Go on, I'm listening." As he spoke, Kent drew out his cigar case +and handed it to Ferguson. "The matches are on the smoking stand +at your elbow. Now, what is it, Ferguson?" + +His companion did not reply at once; instead he puffed at his cigar. + +"Did you read in the paper about Mr. Turnbull's death?" he asked +when the cigar was drawing to his satisfaction, and as Kent nodded +a silent affirmative in answer to his question, he asked another. +"Did you know him well?" + +"Yes." + +"Did he have an enemy?" + +"Not to my knowledge." Kent was watching the detective narrowly; +what was he driving at? "On the contrary Turnbull was extremely +popular." + +"With Colonel McIntyre?" Ferguson had hoped to surprise Kent with +the question, but his companion's expression did not alter. + +"N-no, perhaps he was not over-popular with the colonel," he +admitted slowly. "What prompts the question, Ferguson?" + +The detective hitched his chair nearer. "I'm going to lay all my +cards on the table," he announced. "I need advice and you are the +man to give it to me. Listen, Mr. Kent, this Jimmie Turnbull +masquerades as a burglar night before last at the McIntyre house, +is arrested, a charge brought against him for house-breaking by Miss +Helen McIntyre, and shortly after he dies -" + +"From angina pectoris," finished Kent, as the detective paused. + +"So Mr. Rochester contended," admitted Ferguson. "We'll let that +go for a minute. Now, when Miss McIntyre saw Turnbull's body, she +demanded an autopsy. Why?" + +"To discover the cause of death," answered Kent quietly. "That is +obvious, Ferguson." + +"Sure. And why did she wish to discover it?" He waited a brief +instant, then answered his own question. "Because Miss McIntyre +did not agree with Rochester that Turnbull had died from angina +pectoris - that is obvious, too. Now, what made her think that?" + +"I am sure I don't know" - Kent's air of candor was unmistakable +and Ferguson showed his disappointment. + +"Hasn't Miss McIntyre been to see you?" + +"No," was Kent's truthful answer; Barbara was the younger twin and +her sister was therefore, "Miss McIntyre." + +"You must recollect, Ferguson," he added, "that had Miss McIntyre +called to see me about poor Turnbull, I would not have discussed +the interview with any one, under any conditions." + +"Certainly. I am not asking you to break any confidences; in fact," +Ferguson smiled, "I must ask you to consider our conversation +confidential. Now, Mr. Kent, does it not strike you as odd that +apparently the only man in Washington who really disliked Turnbull +was Colonel McIntyre, and it is his daughter who intimates that +Turnbull's death was not due to natural causes?" + +"Oh, pshaw!" Kent shrugged his shoulders. "You are taking an +exaggerated view of the affair. Colonel McIntyre is an honorable +upright American, and Turnbull was the same." + +"People speak highly of both men," acknowledged the detective. +I saw Mr. Clymer, president of Turnbull's bank this afternoon, and +he paid a fine tribute to his dead cashier." + +Kent drew an inward sigh of relief. Benjamin Clymer had proved +true blue; he had not permitted Colonel McIntyre's desire for +immediate publicity and belief in Turnbull's guilt to shake his +faith in his friend. + +"You see, Ferguson, there is no motive for such a crime as you +suggest," he remarked. + +"Oh, for the motive," - Ferguson rubbed his hands nervously together +as he shot a look at his questioner; the latter's clear-cut features +and manly bearing inspired confidence. "We know of no motive," he +corrected. + +"And we know of no crime having been perpetrated," rapped out Kent. +"Come, man; don't hunt a mare's nest." + +"Ah, but it isn't a mare's nest!" Ferguson remarked dryly. + +Kent bent eagerly forward - "You have heard from the coroner -" + +"Not yet," Ferguson jerked forward his chair until his knees +touched Kent. + +Had either man looked toward the window near which they were sitting, +he would have seen a black shadow squatting ape-like on the window +ledge. As Kent leaned over to relight his cigar, the face at the +window vanished, to cautiously reappear a second later. + +"The case piqued my interest," continued the detective after a pause. +"And I made an investigation on my own hook. After the departure of +the McIntyre twins and Coroner Penfield, I went back to the court +room and poked around the prisoners' cage. There I found this." +He took out of his pocket a small bundle and carefully unwrapped +the oil-skin cover. + +"A handkerchief?" questioned Kent as the detective did not unfold +the white muslin, but held it with care. + +"Yes. One of the prisoners in the cage told me Turnbull dropped it +as Dr. Stone and the deputy marshal carried him into the ante-room. +Smell anything?" holding up the handkerchief. + +"Yes." Kent wrinkled his nose and sniffed several times. " Smells +like fruit." + +Ferguson nodded. "Good guess; I noticed the odor and went at once +to Dr. McLane. He told me the handkerchief was saturated with +amyl nitrite." + +"Amyl nitrite," repeated Kent reflectively. "It is given for angina +pectoris." + +"Yes. Well, in this case it was the remedy and not the disease +which killed Turnbull," announced Ferguson triumphantly. + +"Nonsense!" ejaculated Kent. "I happen to know that the capsules +contain only three minims - I once heard Turnbull say so." + +"True, but Turnbull got a lethal dose, all right; and he thought he +was taking only the regular one. Devilishly ingenious on the part +of the criminal, wasn't it? + +"Yes. Have you detected the criminal?" Kent put the question with +unmoved countenance, but with inward foreboding; the detective's +mysterious manner was puzzling. + +"Not yet, but I will," Ferguson hesitated. "The first thing was to +establish that a crime had really been committed." + +Kent bent down and sniffed again at the handkerchief to which a +faint fruity aroma still clung. + +"How did you discover that?" he asked. + +"Dr. McLane and I took the handkerchief to a laboratory and the +chemist found from the number of particles of capsules in the +handkerchief, that at least two capsules - or double the usual +dose - had been crushed by Turnbull and the fumes inhaled by him; +with fatal results." + +"Hold on," cautioned Kent. "In the flurry of the moment, Turnbull +may have accidentally put two capsules in the handkerchief, meaning +only to use one." + +"Mr. Kent," the detective spoke impressively, "that wasn't Turnbull's +handkerchief." + +"Not his own handkerchief!" exclaimed Kent. "Then, are you sure +that Turnbull used it?" + +"Yes; that fact is established by reputable witnesses; Dr. Stone, +Mr. Clymer, and the deputy marshal," Ferguson spoke with increasing +earnestness. "That is a woman's handkerchief - look at it." + +Ferguson laid the little bundle on the broad arm of Kent's chair and +with infinite care folded back the edges of the handkerchief, +revealing as he did so, the small particles of capsules still +clinging to the linen. But Kent hardly observed the capsules, his +entire attention being centered on one corner of the handkerchief, +which had neatly embroidered on it the letter "B." + + +CHAPTER VI + +STRAIGHT QUESTIONS AND CROOKED ANSWERS + +Colonel McIntyre, with an angry gesture, threw down the newspaper +he had been reading. + +"Do you mean to say, Helen, that you decline to go to the supper +to-night on account of the death of Jimmie 'Turnbull?" he asked. + +"Yes, father." + +McIntyre flushed a dark red; he was not accustomed to scenes with +either of his daughters, and here was Helen flouting his authority +and Barbara backing her up. + +"It is quite time this pretense is dropped," he remarked stiffly. +"You were not engaged to Jimmie - wait," as she attempted to +interrupt him. "You told me the night of the burglary that he was +nothing to you.'" + +"I was mistaken," Helen's voice shook, she was very near to tears. +"When I saw Jimmie lying there, dead" - she faltered, and her +shoulders drooped forlornly -" the world stopped for me." + +"Hysterical nonsense!" McIntyre was careful to avoid Barbara's eyes; +her indignant snort had been indicative of her feelings. "Keep to +your room, Helen, until you regain some common sense. It is as well +our friends should not see you in your present frame of mind." + +Helen regarded her father under lowered lids. "Very well," she said +submissively and walked toward the door; on reaching it she paused, +and spoke over her shoulder. "Don't try me too far, father." + +McIntyre stared for a full minute at the doorway through which Helen +took her departure. + +"Well, what the -" He pulled himself up short in the middle of the +ejaculation and turned to Barbara. "Go and get dressed," he directed. +"We must leave here in twenty minutes." + +"I am not going," she announced. + +"Not going!" McIntyre frowned, then laughed abruptly. "Now, don't +tell me you were engaged to Jimmie Turnbull, also." + +"I think you are horrid!" Barbara's small foot came down with a +vigorous stamp. + +"Well, perhaps I am," her father admitted rather wearily. "Don't +keep us waiting, Babs; the car will be here in less than twenty +minutes." + +"But, father, I prefer to stay at home." + +And I prefer to have you accompany us," retorted McIntyre. "Come, +Barbara, we cannot be discourteous to Mrs. Brewster; she is our +guest, and this supper is for her entertainment." + +"Well, take her." Barbara was openly rebellious. + +"Barbara!" His tone caused her to look at him in wonder; instead +of the stern rebuke she expected, his voice was almost wheedling. +"I cannot very well take Mrs. Brewster to a caf at this hour +without causing gossip." + +"Oh, fiddle-sticks!" exclaimed Barbara. "I don't have to play +chaperon for you two. Every one knows she is visiting us; what's +there improper in your taking her out to supper? Why" - regarding +him critically -" she's young enough to be your daughter!" + +"Go to your room!" There was nothing wheedling about McIntyre at +that instant; he was thoroughly incensed. + +As Barbara sped out happy in having gained her way, she announced, +as a parting shot, "If you can be nasty to Helen; father, I can be +nasty, too." + +Colonel McIntyre brought his fist down on a smoking table with such +force that he scattered its contents over the floor. When he rose +from picking up the debris, he found Mrs. Brewster at his elbow. + +"Can I help?" she asked. + +"No, thanks, everything is back in place." He pulled forward a +chair for her. "If agreeable to you I will telephone Ben Clymer +that we will stop for him and take him with us to the Caf St. +Marks; or would you prefer some other man?" + +"Oh, no." She threw her evening wrap across the sofa and sat down. +"Are the girls ready?" + +"They - they are indisposed, and won't be able to go to-night." + +"What! Both girls?" + +"Yes, both" - firmly, not, however, meeting her eyes. + +"Hadn't I better stay with them?" she asked. "Have you telephoned +or Dr. Stone?" + +"There is no necessity for giving up our little spree," he declared +cheerily. "The girls don't need a physician. They" - with meaning, +"need a mother's care." He picked up her coronation scarf from the +floor where it had slipped and laid it across her bare shoulders; +the action was almost a caress. She made a lovely picture as she +sat in the high-backed carved chair in her chic evening gown, and as +her soft dark eyes met his ardent look, McIntyre felt the hot blood +surge to his temples, and with quickened pulse he went to the +telephone stand and gave Central a number. + +Back in her chair Mrs. Brewster sat thoughtfully watching him. She +had been an unobserved witness of the scene with Barbara, having +entered the library in time to hear the girl's last remarks. It was +not the first inkling that she had had of their disapproval of +Colonel McIntyre's attentions to her, but it had hurt. + +The widow had become acquainted with the twins when, traveling in +Europe just before the outbreak of the World War, and had made the +hasty trip back to this country in their company. Colonel McIntyre +had planned to bring the twins, then at school in Paris, home +himself, but business had kept him in the West and he had cabled +to a spinster cousin to chaperon them on the trip across the +Atlantic Ocean. Nor had he reached New York in time to see them +disembark, and thus had missed meeting Mrs. Brewster, then in +her first year of widowhood. + +The friendship between the twins and Mrs. Brewster had been kept +up through much correspondence, and the widow had finally promised, +to come to Washington for their debut, visiting her cousins, Dr. +and Mrs. Stone. The meeting had but cemented the friendship between +them, and at the twins' urgent request, seconded with warmth by +Colonel McIntyre, she had promised to spend the month of April at +the McIntyre home. + +The visit was nearly over. Mrs. Brewster sighed faintly. There +were two courses open to her, immediate departure, or to continue +to ignore the twins' strangely antagonistic behavior - the first +course did not suit Mrs. Brewster's plans. + +Barbara, who had left the library through one of its seven doors, +had failed to see Mrs. Brewster by the slightest margin; she was +intent only on being with Helen. The affection between the +twins was very close; but while their facial resemblance was +remarkable, their natures were totally dissimilar. Helen, the +elder by twenty minutes, was studious, shy, and too much given +to introspection; Barbara, on the contrary, was whimsical and +practical by turns, with a great capacity for enjoyment. The twins +had made their debut jointly on their eighteenth birthday, +and while both were popular, Barbara had received the greater +amount of attention. + +Barbara tip-toed into the suite of rooms which the girls occupied +over the library, expecting to find Helen lying on the lounge; +instead, she found her writing busily at her desk. She tossed down +her pen as her sister entered, and, taking up a blotter, carefully +laid it across the page she had been writing. + +"Thank heaven, I don't have to go to that supper party," Barbara +announced, throwing herself full length on the lounge. + +"So father gave it up," commented Helen. "I am glad." + +"Gave up nothing," retorted her sister. "He and Margaret Brewster +are going." + +"What!" Helen was on her feet. "You let them go out alone together?" + +"They can't be alone if they are together," answered Barbara +practically. "Don't be silly, Helen." + +Helen did not answer at once; she had grown singularly pale. Walking +over to the window she glanced into the street. "The car hasn't +come," she exclaimed, and consulted her wrist watch. "Hurry, Babs, +you have just, time to dress and go with them." + +"B-b-but I said I wouldn't go," stuttered Barbara, completely taken +by surprise. + +"No matter; tell father you have changed your mind." Helen held out +her hand. "Come, to please me," and there was a world of wistful +appeal in her hazel eyes which Barbara was unable to resist. + +It was not until Barbara had completed her hasty toilet and a +frantic dash downstairs in time to spring into the waiting limousine +after Margaret Brewster, that she realized she had put on one of +Helen's evening gowns and not her own. + +Benjamin Clymer was standing in the vestibule of the Saratoga, where +he made his home, when the McIntyre limousine drew up, and he did +not keep them waiting, as Colonel McIntyre had predicted he would +on the drive to Clymer's apartment house. + +"The clerk gave me your message when I came in, McIntyre," he +explained as the car drove off. I called up your residence and +Grimes said you were on the way here." + +Barbara, tucked away in her corner of the limousine, listened to +Mrs. Brewster's animated chatter with utter lack of interest; she +wished most heartily that she had not been over-persuaded by her +sister, and had remained at home. That her father had accepted her +lame explanation and her presence in the party with unaffected +pleasure had been plain. Mrs. Brewster, after a quiet inquiry +regarding her health, had been less enthusiastic in her welcome. +Barbara was just stifling a yawn when the limousine stopped at the +entrance to the Caf St. Marks. + +Inside the caf all was light and gaiety, and Barbara brightened +perceptibly as the attentive head waiter ushered them to the table +Colonel McIntyre had reserved earlier in the evening. + +"It's a novel idea turning the old church into a caf ," Barbara +remarked to Benjamin Clymer. "A sort of casting bread upon the +waters of famished Washington. I wonder if they ever turn water +into wine?" + +"No such luck," groaned Clymer dismally, looking with distaste +at the sparkling grape juice being poured into the erstwhile +champagne goblet by his plate. "The caf is crowded to-night," +and he gazed with interest about the room. Colonel McIntyre, who +had loitered behind to speak to several friends at an adjacent table, +took the unoccupied seat by Mrs. Brewster and was soon in animated +conversation with the widow and Clymer; Barbara, her healthy +appetite asserting itself, devoted her entire attention to the +delicious delicacies placed before her. The arrival of the +after-the-theater crowd awoke her from her abstraction, and she +accepted Clymer's invitation to dance with alacrity. When they +returned to the table she discovered that Margaret Brewster and +her father had also joined the dancers. + +Barbara watched them while keeping up a disjointed conversation +with Clymer, whose absentminded remarks finally drew Barbara's +attention, and she wondered what had come over the generally +entertaining banker. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask him the +reason for his distrait manner when her thoughts were diverted by +his next remark. + +"Your father and Mrs. Brewster make a fine couple," he said. +"Colonel McIntyre is the most distinguished looking man in the caf +and Mrs. Brewster is a regular beauty." + +Instead of replying Barbara turned in her seat and scanned her +father as he and Mrs. Brewster passed them in the dance. Colonel +McIntyre did not look his age of forty-seven years. His hair, +prematurely gray, had a most attractive wave to it, and his erect +and finely proportioned figure showed to advantage in his well-cut +dress suit. Barbara's heart swelled with pride - her dear and +handsome father! Then she transferred her regard to Margaret +Brewster; she had been such a satisfactory friend - why oh, why did +she wish to become her step-mother? The twins, with the unerring +instinct of womanhood, had decided ten days before that Weller's +warning to his son was timely - Mrs. Brewster was a most dangerous +widow. + +"How is your sister?" inquired Clymer, breaking the silence which +had lasted nearly five minutes. He was never quite certain which +twin he was talking to, and generally solved the problem by +familiarizing himself with their mode of dress. The plan had not +always worked as the twins had a bewildering habit of exchanging +clothes, to the enjoyment of Barbara's mischief loving soul, and +the mystification of their numerous admirers. + +"She is rather blue and depressed," answered Barbara. "We are both +feeling the reaction from the shock of Jimmie Turnbull's tragic +death. You must forgive me if I am a bore; I am not good company +to-night." + +The arrival of the head waiter at their table interrupted Clymer's +reply. + +"This gentleman desires to speak to you a moment, Miss McIntyre," +he said, and indicated a young man in a sack suit standing just back +of him. + +"I'm Parker of the Post," the reporter introduced himself with a bow +which included Clymer. "May I sit down?" laying his hand on the back +of Mrs. Brewster's vacant chair. + +"Surely; and won't you have an ice?" Barbara's hospitable instincts +were aroused. "Here, waiter -" + +"No, thanks; I haven't time," protested Parker, slipping into the +chair. "I just came from your house, Miss McIntyre; the butler said +I might find you here, and as it was rather important, I took the +liberty of introducing myself. We plan to run a story, featuring +the dangers of masquerading in society, and of course it hinges on +the death of Mr. Turnbull. I'm sorry" - he apologized as he saw +Barbara wince. "I realize the topic is one to make you feel badly; +but I promise to ask only few questions." His smile was very +engaging and Barbara's resentment receded somewhat. + +"What are they?" she asked. + +"Did you recognize Mr. Turnbull in his burglar's make-up when you +confronted him in the police court?" Parker drew out copy paper and +a pencil, and waited for her reply. There was a pause. + +"I did not recognize Mr. Turnbull in court," she stated finally. +"His death was a frightful shock." + +"Sure. It was to everybody," agreed Parker. "How about your sister, +Miss Barbara; did she recognize him?" + +"No." faintly. + +Parker showed his disappointment; he was not eliciting much +information. Abruptly he turned to Clymer, whose prominent position +in the financial world made him a familiar figure to all +Washingtonians. + +"Weren't you present in the police court on Tuesday morning also?" +Parker asked. + +"Yes," Clymer modified the curt monosyllable by adding, "I helped +Dr. Stone carry Turnbull out of the prisoners' cage and into the +anteroom." + +"And did you recognize your cashier?" demanded Parker. At the +question Barbara set down her goblet of water without care for its +perishable quality and looked with quick intentness at the banker. + +"I recognized Mr. Turnbull when his wig was removed," answered +Clymer, raising his head in time to catch Barbara's eyes gazing +steadfastly at him. With a faint flush she turned her attention +to the reporter. + +"Mr. Turnbull's make-up must have been superfine," Parker remarked. +"Just one more question. Can you tell me if Mr. Philip Rochester +recognized his room-mate when he was defending him in court?" + +"No, I cannot," and observing Parker's blank expression, she added, +"why don't you ask Mr. Rochester?" + +"Because I can't locate him; he seems to have vanished off the face +of the globe." The reporter rose. "You can't tell me where's he's +gone, I suppose?" + +"I haven't the faintest idea," answered Barbara truthfully. "I was +at his office this -" she stopped abruptly on finding that Mrs. +Brewster was standing just behind her. Had the widow by chance +overheard her remark? If so, her father would probably learn of her +visit to the office of Rochester and Kent that morning. + +"Do I understand that Philip Rochester is out of town?" inquired Mrs. +Brewster. "Why, I had an appointment with him to-morrow." + +"He's gone and left no address that I can find," explained Parker. +"Thank you, Miss McIntyre; good evening," and the busy reporter +hurried away. + +There was a curious expression in Mrs. Brewster's eyes, but she +dropped her gaze on her finger bowl too quickly for Clymer to +analyze its meaning. + +"What can have taken Mr. Rochester out of town?" she asked. The +question was not addressed to any one in particular, but Colonel +McIntyre answered it, as he did most of the widow's remarks. + +"Dry Washington," he explained. "It isn't the first trip Philip has +made to Baltimore since the 'dry' law has been in force, eh, Clymer?" + +"No, and it won't be his last," was the banker's response. "What's +the matter, Miss McIntyre?" as Barbara pushed back her chair. + +"I feel a little faint," she stammered. "The air here is - is +stifling. If you don't mind, father, I'll take the car and drive +home." + +"I'll come with you," announced Mrs. Brewster, rising hurriedly; +and as she turned solicitously to aid Barbara she caught Colonel +McIntyre's admiring glance and his whispered thanks. + +Outside the caf Clymer discovered that the McIntyre limousine was +not to be found, and, cautioning Barbara and the widow to remain +where they were, he went back into the caf in search of Colonel +McIntyre, who had stayed behind to pay his bill. + +A sudden exodus from the caf as other diners came out to get their +cars, separated Barbara from Mrs. Brewster just as the former caught +sight of her father's limousine coming around McPherson Square. Not +waiting to see what had become of her companion, Barbara started up +the sidewalk intent on catching their chauffeur's attention. As she +stood by the curb, a figure brushed by her and a paper was deftly +slipped inside her hand. + +Barbara wheeled about abruptly. She stood alone, except for several +elaborately dressed women and their companions some yards away who +were indulging in noisy talk as they hurried along. At that moment +the McIntyre limousine stopped at the curb and the chauffeur opened +the door. + +"Take me home, Harris," she ordered. "And then come back for Mrs. +Brewster and father. I don't feel well - hurry." + +"Very good, miss," and touching his cap the chauffeur swung his car +up Fifteenth Street. + +The limousine had turned into Massachusetts Avenue before Barbara +switched on the electric lamp in the car and opened the note so +mysteriously given to her. She read feverishly the few lines it +contained + + Dear Helen: + The coroner will call an inquest. Secrete letter "B." + +The note was unsigned but it was in the handwriting of Philip +Rochester. + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE RED SEAL + +The gloomy morning, with leaden skies and intermittent rain, +reflected Harry Kent's state of mind. He could not fix his +attention on the business letters which Sylvester placed before him; +instead, his thoughts reverted to the scene in Rochester's and +Turnbull's apartment the night before, the elusive visitor he had +found there on his arrival, his interview with Detective Ferguson, +and above all the handkerchief, saturated with amyl nitrite, and +bearing the small embroidered letter "B" - the initial, insignificant +in size, but fraught with dire possibilities if, as Ferguson hinted, +Turnbull had been put to death by an over-dose of the drug. "B " +- Barbara; Barbara - "B" - his mind rang the changes; pshaw! other +names than Barbara began with "B." + +"Shall I transcribe your notes, Mr. Kent?" asked Sylvester, and Kent +awakened from his reverie, discovered that he had scrawled the name +Barbara and capital "Bs" on the writing pad. He tore off the sheet +and crumpled it into a small ball. "No, my notes are unimportant " +Kent unlocked his desk and took some manuscript from one of the +drawers. "Make four copies of this brief, then call up the printer +and ask how soon he will complete the work on hand. Has Mr. Clymer +telephoned? + +"Not this morning." Sylvester rose, papers in hand. "There has been +a Mr. Parker of the Post who telephones regularly once an hour to ask +for Mr. Rochester's address and when he is expected at the office." +He paused and looked inquiringly at Kent. "What shall I say the next +time he calls?" + +"Switch him on my phone," briefly. "That is all now, Sylvester. +I must be in court by noon, so have the brief copied by eleven." + +"Yes, sir," and Sylvester departed, only to return a second later. +"Miss McIntyre to see you," he announced, and stood aside to allow +the girl to enter. + +It was the first time Kent had seen Helen since the tragedy of +Tuesday, and as he advanced to greet her he noted with concern her +air of distress and the troubled look in her eyes. Her composed +manner was obviously only maintained by the exertion of self-control, +for the hand she offered him was unsteady. + +"You are so kind," she murmured as he placed a chair for her. "Babs +told me you have promised your aid, and so I have come -" she +pressed one hand to her side as if she found breathing difficult +and Kent, reaching for his pitcher of ice water which stood near at +hand, filled a tumbler and gave it to her. + +"Take a little," he coaxed as she moved as if to refuse the glass. +"Why didn't you telephone and I would have called on you; in fact, +I planned to run in and see you this afternoon. + +"It is wiser to have our talk here," she replied. Setting down the +empty glass she gazed about the office and her face brightened at +sight of a safe standing in one corner. "Is that yours or Philip's?" +she asked, pointing to it. + +"The safe? Oh, it's for our joint use, owned by the firm, you know," +explained Kent, somewhat puzzled by her eagerness. + +"Do you keep your private papers there, as well as the firm's?" ' + +"Oh, yes; Philip has retained one section and I the other." Kent +walked over and threw open the massive door which he had unlocked +on entering the office and left ajar. "Would you like to see the +arrangements of the compartments?" + +Without answering Helen crossed the room and stood by his side. + +"Which is Philip's section?" she asked. + +"This," and Kent touched the side of the safe. + +Helen turned around and inspected the office; the outer door through +which she had entered was closed, as were also the private door +leading directly into the outside corridor, and the one opening into +the closet. Convinced that they were really alone, she took from +her leather hand-bag a white envelope and handed it to Kent. + +"Please put this in Philip's compartment," she said, and as he +hesitated, she added pleadingly, "Please do it, Harry, and ask no +questions." + +Kent looked at her wonderingly; the girl was obviously laboring +under intense excitement of some sort, which might at any moment +break into hysteria. Bottling up his curiosity, he stooped down +in front of the safe. + +"Certainly I will put the envelope away for you," he agreed cheerily. +"Wait, though, I must find if Philip left the key of the compartment +on his bunch." He took from his pocket the keys he had found so +useful the night before, and selected one that resembled the key to +his own compartment, and inserted it in the lock. To his surprise +he discovered the compartment was already unlocked. Without comment +he pulled open the inside drawer and started to lay the white +envelope on top of the papers already there, when he hesitated. + +"The envelope is unaddressed, Helen," he remarked, extending it +toward her. She waved it back. + +"It is sealed with red wax," she stated. "That is all that is +necessary for identification." + +Kent turned over the envelope - the flap was held down securely with +a large red seal which bore the one letter "B." He dropped the +envelope inside the drawer, locked the compartment, and closed the +door of the safe. + +"Let us talk," he suggested and led the way back to their chairs. +"Helen," he began, after she was seated. "There is nothing I will +not do for your sister Barbara," his manner grew earnest. "I -" he +flushed; baring his feelings to another, no matter how sympathetic +that other was, was foreign to his reserved nature. "I love her +beyond words to express. I tell you this to - to - gain your trust." + +"You already have it, Harry!" Impulsively Helen extended her hand, +and he held it in a firm clasp for a second. "Babs and I have come +at once to you in our trouble." + +"Yes, but you have only hinted what that trouble, was," he reminded +her gently. "I cannot really aid you until you give me your full +confidence." + +Helen looked away from him and out of the window. The relief, which +had lighted her face a moment before, had vanished. It was some +minutes before she answered. + +"Babs told you that I suspected Jimmie did not die from angina +pectoris -" She spoke with an effort. + +"Yes." + +She waited a second before continuing her remarks. "I have asked +the coroner to make an investigation." She paused again, then added +with more animation, "He is the one to tell us if a crime has been +committed." + +"He can tell if death has been accelerated by a weapon, or a drug," +responded Kent; he was weighing his words carefully so that she +might understand him fully. "But to constitute a crime, it has to +be proved first, that the act has been committed, and second, that +a guilty mind or malice prompted it. Can you furnish a clew to +establish either of the last mentioned facts in connection with +Jimmie's death?" + +Kent wondered if she had heard him, she was so long in replying, +and he was about to repeat his question when she addressed him. + +"Have you heard from Coroner Penfield?" + +"No. I tried several times to get him on the telephone, but without +success," replied Kent; his disappointment at not receiving an +answer to his question showed in his manner. "I went to Penfield's +house last night, but he had been called away on a case and, +although I waited until nearly ten o'clock, he had not returned when +I left. Have you had word from him?" + +"Not - not directly." She had been nervously twisting her +handkerchief about in her fingers; suddenly she turned and looked +full at Kent, her eyes burning feverishly. "I would give all I +possess, my hope of future happiness even, if I could prove that +Jimmie died from angina pectoris." + +Kent looked at her in mingled sympathy and doubt. - What did her +words imply - further tragedy? + +"Jimmie might not have died from angina pectoris," he said, "and +still not have been poisoned -" + +"You mean -" + +"Suicide." + +Slowly Helen took in his meaning, but she volunteered no remark, +and Kent after a pause, added, "While I have not seen Coroner +Penfield I did hear last night what killed Jimmie." Helen +straightened up, one hand pressed to her heart. "It was a lethal +dose of amyl nitrite." + +"Amyl nitrite," she repeated. "Yes, I have heard that it is given +for heart trouble. How" - she looked at him queerly. "How is it +administered?" + +"By crushing a capsule in a handkerchief and inhaling its fumes " +- he was watching her closely. "The handkerchief Jimmie was seen +to use just before he died was found to contain two or more broken +capsules." + +Helen sat immovable for over a minute, then she bowed her head and +burst into dry tearless sobs which wracked her body. Kent laid a +tender hand on her shoulder, then concluding it was better for her +to have her cry out, he wandered aimlessly about the office waiting +for her to regain her composure. + +He stopped before one of the windows facing south and stared moodily +at the Belasco Theater. That playhouse had surely never staged a +more complicated mystery than the one he had set himself to unravel. +What consolation could he offer Helen? If he encouraged her belief +in his theory that Jimmie committed suicide he would have to +establish a motive for suicide, and that motive might prove to be +the theft of Colonel McIntyre's valuable securities. Threatened +with exposure as a thief and forger, Jimmie had committed suicide, +so would run the verdict; the fact of his suicide was proof of his +guilt of the crime Colonel McIntyre virtually charged him with, and +vice versa. + +What had been discovered to point to murder? The finding of a +handkerchief, saturated with amyl nitrite, which had not belonged +to the dead man. Proof - bah! it was ridiculous! What more likely +than that Jimmie, while in the McIntyre house before his arrest as +a burglar, had picked up one of Barbara's handkerchiefs, stuffed +it inside his pocket, and when threatened with exposure on being +held for the grand jury, had, in desperation, crushed the amyl +nitrite capsules in Barbara's handkerchief and killed himself. + +Kent drew a long, long sigh. His faith in Jimmie's honesty was +shaken at last by the accumulative evidence, and he was convinced +that he had found the solution to the problem, but how impart it to +the weeping girl? To prove her lover a thief, forger, and suicide +was indeed a task he shrank from. + +A ring at the telephone caused Kent to move hastily to the +instrument; when he hung up the receiver Helen was adjusting her +veil before a mirror over the mantel. + +"Colonel McIntyre is in the next room," he said, keeping his voice +lowered. + +"My father!" Helen's eyes were hard and dry. "Does he know that +I am here?" + +"I don't know; Sylvester simply said he had called to see me and +is waiting in the outer office." Observing her indecision, Kent +opened the door leading directly into the corridor. "You can leave +this way without encountering Colonel McIntyre." + +Helen hurried through the door and paused in the corridor to whisper +feverishly in Kent's ear, "Promise me you will remain faithful to +Barbara whatever develops." + +"I will!" Kent's pledge rang out clearly, and Helen with a lighter +heart turned to walk away when a telegraph boy appeared around the +corner of the corridor and thrust a yellow envelope at Kent, who +stood half inside his office watching Helen. + +"Sign here," the boy said, indicating the line on the receipt slip, +and getting it back, departed. + +Motioning to Helen to wait, Kent tore open the telegram. It was +from Cleveland and dated the night before. The message ran: +Called to Cleveland. Address City Club. Rochester. + +Without comment Kent held out the telegram so that Helen could +read it. + +"What!" she exclaimed. "Philip in Cleveland last night. I - I +- don't understand." And looking at her Kent was astounded at the +flash of terror which shone for an instant in her eyes. Before he +had time to question her she bolted around the corridor. + +Kent remained staring ahead for an instant then returned thoughtfully +to his office, and within a second Sylvester received a telephone +message to show Colonel McIntyre into Kent's office. Not only +Colonel McIntyre followed the clerk into the room but Benjamin +Clymer. "Any further developments, Kent?" inquired the banker. +"No, we can't sit down; just dropped in to see you a minute." + +"There is nothing new," Kent had made instant decision; such +information regarding the death of Turnbull as he had gleaned from +Ferguson, and the events of the night before should be confided to +Clymer alone, and not in the presence of Colonel McIntyre. + +"Did you search Turnbull's apartment last night as you spoke of +doing?" asked McIntyre. + +"I did, and found no trace of your securities, Colonel." + +McIntyre lifted his eyebrows as he smiled sarcastically. "Can I +see Rochester?" he asked. + +"He is in Cleveland; I don't know just when he will be back." + +"Indeed? Too bad you haven't the benefit of his advice," remarked +McIntyre insolently. "At Clymer's request, Kent, I have allowed +you until Saturday night to find the securities and either clear +Turnbull's name or admit his guilt; there remain two days and a +half before I take the affair in my own hands and make it public." + +"I hope to establish Turnbull's innocence before that time," retorted +Kent coolly. + +Inwardly his spirits sank; had not every effort on his part brought +but further proof of Jimmie's guilt? That McIntyre would make no +attempt to hush up the scandal was obvious. + +"Keep me informed of your progress," McIntyre's manner was +domineering and Kent felt the blood mount to his temples, but he +was determined not to lose his temper whatever the provocation; +McIntyre was Barbara's father. + +Clymer, aware that the atmosphere was getting strained, +diplomatically intervened. + +"Dine with me to-night, Kent," he said. "Perhaps you will then +have some news that will throw light on the present whereabouts of +the securities. I found, on making inquiries, that they have not +been offered for sale in the usual channels. Come, McIntyre, I +have a directors' meeting in twenty minutes." + +McIntyre, who had been swinging his walking stick from one hand to +the other in marked impatience, turned to Kent, his manner more +conciliatory. + +"Pleasant quarters you have," he remarked. "Does Rochester share +his room with you?" + +"No, Colonel, his is across the ante-room where you waited a few +minutes ago," explained Kent as he accompanied his visitors to the +door. "This is my office." + +"Ah, yes, I thought as much on seeing only one desk," McIntyre's +manner grew more cordial. "Does Rochester's furniture duplicate +yours, safe and all?" + +"Safe - no, he has none; that is the firm's safe." Kent was +becoming restless under so many personal questions. "Good-by, Mr. +Clymer." + +"Don't forget to-night at eight," the banker reminded him before +stepping into the corridor. "We'll dine at the Club de Vingt. +Come along, McIntyre." + +Sylvester stopped Kent on his way back to his office and handed +him the neatly typewritten copies of his brief, and with a word of +thanks the lawyer went over to his desk and, gathering such papers +as he required at the court house, he thrust them and the brief +into his leather bag, but instead of hurrying on his way, he stood +still to consider the events of the morning. + +Helen McIntyre, during their interview, had not responded to his +appeal for her confidence, nor vouchsafed any reason for her belief +that Jimmie Turnbull had been the victim of foul play. And Colonel +McIntyre had given him only until Saturday night to solve the +problem! Kent's overwrought feelings found vent in an emphatic oath. + +"Excuse me," exclaimed Sylvester mildly from the doorway. "I knocked +and understood you to say come in. + +"Well, what is it?" Kent's nerves were getting a bit raw; a glance +at his watch showed him he had a slender margin only in which to +reach the court house in time for his appointment. Not even waiting +for the clerk's reply he snatched up his brief case and made for the +private door leading into the corridor. But he was destined not to +get away without another interruption. + +As Sylvester was hastily explaining, "Two gentlemen to see you, Mr. +Kent," the clerk was thrust aside and Detective Ferguson entered, +accompanied by a deputy marshal. + +"Sorry to detain you, Mr. Kent," exclaimed the detective. "I came +to tell you that Coroner Penfield has just called an inquest for +this afternoon to inquire into Jimmie Turnbull's death. Where's +your partner, Mr. Rochester?" looking around inquiringly. + +"In Cleveland. Won't I do?" replied Kent, his appointment forgotten +in the news that Ferguson had just given him. + +"No, we didn't come for legal advice," Ferguson smiled; then grew +serious. "What's Mr. Rochester's address?" + +Kent walked over to his desk and picked up the telegram. "The City +Club, Cleveland," he stated. + +"Thanks," Ferguson jotted down the address in his note-book. +"Jones, here," placing his hand on his companion, "came to serve +Mr. Rochester with a subpoena; he's wanted at the Turnbull inquest +as a material witness." + + +CHAPTER VIII + +THE INQUEST + +Coroner Penfield adjusted his eyeglasses and scanned the spectators +gathered for the Turnbull inquest. The room was crowded with both +men and women, the latter predominating, and the coroner decided +that, while some had come from a personal interest in the dead man, +the majority had been attracted by morbid curiosity. There was a +stir among the spectators as an inner door opened and the jury, +led by the morgue master filed into the room and took their places. +Coroner Penfield rose and addressed the foreman. + +"Have you viewed the body?" he inquired. + +"Yes, doctor," and the man sat down. + +Coroner Penfield then concisely stated the reason for the inquest +and summoned Officer O'Ryan to the witness stand. The policeman +stood, cap in hand, while being sworn by the morgue master, and +then took his place on the platform in the chair reserved for the +witnesses. + +His answer to Coroner Penfield's questions relative to his name, +residence in Washington, and length of service in the city Police +Force were given with brevity and a rich Irish brogue. + +"Where were you on Tuesday morning at about five o'clock?" asked +Penfield, first consulting some memoranda on his desk. + +"On my way home," explained O'Ryan. My relief had just come." + +"Does your beat take in the McIntyre residence? " + +"It does, sir." + +"Did you observe any one loitering in the vicinity of the residence +prior to five o'clock, Tuesday morning?" + +"No, sir. It was only when the lady called to me that I was +attracted to the house." + +"Did she state what was the matter?" + +"Yes, sir. She said that she had locked a burglar in a closet, and +to come and get him, and I did so," and O'Ryan expanded his chest +with an air of satisfaction as be glanced about the morgue. + +"Did the burglar resist arrest?" + +"No, sir; he came very peaceably and not a word out of him." + +"Had you any idea that the burglar was not what he seemed?" + +"Devil an idea, begging your pardon - O'Ryan remembered hastily +where he was. "The burglar looked the part he was masquerading, +and his make-up was perfect," ended O'Ryan with relish. "Never +gave me a hint he was a gentleman and a bank cashier in disguise." + +Kent, who had arrived at the morgue a few minutes before the +policeman commenced his testimony, smiled in spite of himself. He +was feeling exceedingly low spirited, and had come to the inquest +with inward foreboding as to its result. On what developed there, +he Was convinced, hung Jimmie Turnbull's good name. After his +interview with Detective Ferguson that morning, he had wired Philip +Rochester to return to Washington at once. He had requested an +immediate reply, and had fully expected to find a telegram at his +office when he stopped there on his way to the morgue, but none had +come. + +"Whom did you see in the McIntyre house?" the coroner asked O'Ryan. + +"No one sir, except the burglar and Miss McIntyre." + +"Did you find any doors or windows unlocked?" + +"No, sir; I never looked to see." + +"Why not?" + +"Because the young lady said that she had been over the house and +everything was then fastened." O'Ryan looked anxiously at the +coroner. Would he make him out derelict in his duty? It would +seriously affect his standing on the Force. "I took Miss McIntyre's +word for the house, for I had the burglar safe under arrest." + +"How did Miss McIntyre appear?" + +"Appear? Sure, she looked very sweet in her blue wrapper and her +hair down her back," answered O'Ryan with emphasis. + +"She was not fully dressed then?" + +"No, sir." + +"Was Miss McIntyre composed in manner or did she appear frightened?" +asked Penfield. It was one of the questions which Kent had expected, +and he waited with intense interest for the policeman's reply. + +"She was very pale and - and breathless like." O'Ryan flapped his +arms about vaguely in his endeavor to demonstrate his meaning. "She +kept begging me to hurry and get the burglar out of the house, and +after telling her that she would have to appear in the Police Court +first thing that morning, I went off with the prisoner." + +"Were there lights in the house?" questioned Penfield. + +"Only dim ones in the halls and two bulbs turned on in the library; +it's a big room though, and they hardly made any light at all," +explained O'Ryan; he was particular as to details. "I used +handcuffs on the prisoner, thinking maybe he'd give me the slip in +the dim light, but there was no fight or flight in him." + +"Did he talk to you on the way to the station house?" + +"No, sir; and at the station he was just as quiet, only answered +the questions the desk sergeant put to him, and that was all," +stated 0' Ryan. + +Penfield laid down his memorandum pad. "All right, O'Ryan; you may +retire," and at the words the policeman left the platform and the +room. He was followed by the police sergeant who had been on desk +duty at the Eighth Precinct on Tuesday morning. His testimony +simply corroborated O'Ryan's statement that the prisoner had done +and said nothing which would indicate that he was other than he +seemed - a housebreaker. + +Coroner Penfield paused before calling the next witness and drank +a glass of ice water; the weather had turned unseasonably hot, and +the room in which inquests were held, was stifling, in spite of the +long opened windows at either end. + +"Call Miss Helen McIntyre," Penfield said to the morgue master, and +the latter crossed to the door leading to the room where sat the +witnesses. There was instant craning of necks to catch a glimpse +of the society girl about whom, with her twin sister, so much +interest centered. + +Helen was extremely pale as she advanced up the room, but Kent, +watching her closely, was relieved to see none of the nervousness +which had been so marked at their interview that morning. She was +dressed with fastidious taste, and as she mounted the platform after +the morgue master had administered the oath, Coroner Penfield rose +and, with a polite gesture, indicated the chair she was to occupy. + +"I am Helen McIntyre," she announced c1ear1y. "Daughter of Colonel +Charles McIntyre." + +"Tell us the circumstances attending the arrest of James Turnbull, +alias John Smith, in your house on Tuesday morning, Miss McIntyre," +directed the coroner, seating himself at his table, on which were +writing materials. + +"I was sitting up to let in my sister, who had gone to a dance," +she began, "and fearing I would fall asleep I went down into the +library, intending to sit in one of the window recesses and watch +for her arrival. As I entered the library I saw a figure steal +across the room and disappear inside a closet. I was very +frightened, but had sense enough left to cross softly to the +closet and lock the door." She paused in her rapid recital and +drew a long breath, then continued more slowly: + +"I hurried to the window and across the street I saw a policeman +standing under a lamp-post. It took but a minute to call him. The +policeman opened the closet door, put handcuffs on Mr. Turnbull and +took him away." + +Coroner Penfield, as well as the jurors, followed her statement +with absorbed attention. At its end he threw down his pencil and +spoke briefly to the deputy coroner, who had been busily engaged in +taking notes of the inquest, and then he turned to Helen. + +"You heard no sound before entering the library?" + +"No one walking about the house?" he persisted. + +"No." She followed the negative with a short explanation. "I lay +down on my bed soon after dinner, not feeling very well, and slept +through the early hours of the night." + +"At what hour did you wake up?" + +"About four o'clock, or a little after." + +"Then you were awake an hour before you discovered the supposed +burglar in your library?" + +"Y-yes," Helen's hesitation was faint. "About that length of time." + +"And you heard no unusual sounds in that hour's interval?" + +"I heard nothing" - her manner was slightly defiant and Kent's heart +sank; if he had only thought to warn her not to antagonize the +coroner. + +"Where were you during that hour?" + +"Lying down," promptly. "Then, afraid I would drop off to sleep +again, I went downstairs." + +Coroner Penfield consulted his notes before asking another question. + +"Who lives in your house beside you and your twin sister?" he asked. + +"My father, Colonel McIntyre; our house guest, Mrs. Louis C. +Brewster, and five servants," she replied. "Grimes, the butler; +Martha, our maid; Jane, the chambermaid; Hope, our cook; and Thomas, +our second man; the chauffeur, Harris, the scullery maid, and the +laundress do not stay at night." + +"Who were at home beside yourself on Monday night and early Tuesday +morning?" + +"My father and Mrs. Brewster; I believe the servants were in also, +except Thomas, who had asked permission to spend the night in +Baltimore." + +"Miss McIntyre?" Coroner Penfield put the next question in an +impressive manner. "On discovering the burglar why did you not +call your father?" + +"My first impulse was to do so," she answered promptly. "But on +leaving the library I passed the window, saw the policeman, and +called him in." She shot a keen look at the coroner, and added +softly, "The policeman was qualified to make an arrest; my father +would have had to summon one had he been there." + +"Quite true," acknowledged Penfield courteously. "Now, Miss +McIntyre, why did the prisoner so obligingly walk straight into +a closet on your arrival in the library?" + +"I presume he was looking for a way out of the room and blundered +into it," she explained. "There are seven doors opening from our +library; the prisoner may have heard me approaching, become confused, +and walked through the wrong door." + +"That is quite plausible - with an ordinary bona-fide burglar," +agreed Penfield. "But was not Mr. Turnbull acquainted with the +architectural arrangements of your house?" + +"He was a frequent caller and an intimate friend," she said, with +dignity. "As to his power of observation and his bump of locality +I cannot say. The library was but dimly lighted." + +"Miss McIntyre," Penfield spoke slowly. "Were you aware of the real +identity of the burglar?" + +"I had no suspicion that he was not what he appeared," she responded. +"He said or did nothing after his arrest to give me the slightest +inkling of his identity." + +Penfield raised his eyebrows and shot a look at the deputy coroner +before going on with his examination. + +"You knew Mr. Turnbull intimately, and yet you did not recognize +him?" he asked. + +"He wore an admirable disguise." Helen touched her lips with the +tip of her tongue; inwardly she longed for the glass of ice water +which she saw standing on the reporters' table. "Mr. Turnbull's +associates will tell you that he excelled in amateur theatricals." + +Penfield looked at her critically for a moment before continuing +his questions. She bore his scrutiny with composure. + +"Officer O'Ryan has testified that you informed him you examined +the windows of your house," he said, after a brief wait. "Did you +find any unlocked?" + +"Yes; one was open in the little reception room off the front door." + +"What floor is the room on?" + +"The ground floor." + +"Would it have been easy for any one to gain admittance through the +window without attracting attention in the street?" was Penfield's +next question. + +"Yes." + +"Miss McIntyre," Penfield rose, "I have only a few more questions +to put to you. Why did Mr. Turnbull come to your house - a house +where he was a welcome visitor - in the middle of the night +disguised. as a burglar?" + +The reporters as well as the spectators bent forward to catch her +reply. + +"Mr. Turnbull had a wager with my sister, Barbara," she explained. +"She bet him that he could not break into the house without being +discovered." + +Penfield considered her answer before addressing her again. + +"Why didn't Mr. Turnbull tell you who he was when you had him +arrested?" he asked. + +Helen shrugged her shoulders. "I cannot answer that question, for +I do not know his reason. If he had only confided in me" - her +voice shook -" he might have been alive to-day." + +"How so?" Penfield shot the question at her. + +"Because then he would have been spared the additional excitement +of his trip to the police station and the scene in court, which +brought on his attack of angina pectoris." + +Penfield regarded her for a moment in silence. + +"I have no further questions, Miss McIntyre," he said, and turned +to the morgue master. "Ask Miss Barbara McIntyre to come to the +platform." Turning back to his table and the papers thereon he +failed to see the twins pass each other in the aisle. They were +identically attired and when Coroner Penfield looked again at the +witness chair, he stared in surprise at its occupant. + +"I beg pardon, Miss McIntyre, I desire your sister to testify," +he remarked. + +"I am Barbara McIntyre." A haunting quality in her voice caught +Kent's attention, and he leaned eagerly forward, his eyes following +each movement of her nervous fingers, busily twisting her gloves +inside and out. + +"I beg your pardon," exclaimed the coroner, recovering from his +surprise. He had seen the twins at the police court on Tuesday +morning for a second only, and then his attention had been +entirely centered on Helen. He had heard, but had not realized +until that moment, how striking was the resemblance between the +sisters. + +"Miss McIntyre," the coroner cleared his throat and commenced his +examination. "Where were you on Monday night?" + +"At a dance given by Mr. and Mrs. Charles Grosvenor." + +"At what hour did you return?" + +"I think it was half past five or a few minutes earlier." + +"Who let you in?" + +"My sister." + +"Did you see the burglar?" + +"He had left," she answered. "My sister told me of her adventure +as we went upstairs to our rooms." + +"Miss McIntyre," Penfield picked up a page of the deputy coroner's +closely written notes, and ran his eyes down it. "Your sister has +testified that James Turnbull went to your house disguised as a +burglar on a wager with you. What were the terms of that wager?" + +"I bet him that he could not enter the house after midnight without +his presence being detected by our new police dogs," exclaimed +Barbara slowly. She had stopped twirling her gloves about, and one +hand was firmly clenched over the arm of her chair. + +"Did the dogs discover his presence in the house?" + +"Apparently not, or they would have aroused the household," she said. +"I cannot answer that question, though, because I was not at home." + +"Where are the dogs kept?" + +"In the garage in the daytime." + +"And at night?" he persisted. + +"They roam about our house," she admitted, "or sleep in the boudoir, +which is between my sister's bedroom and mine. + +"Were the dogs in the house on Monday night?" + +"I did not see them on my return from the dance." + +"That is not an answer to my question, Miss McIntyre," the coroner +pointed out. "Were the dogs in the house?" + +There was a distinct pause before she spoke. "I recall hearing our +butler, Grimes, say that he found the dogs in the cellar. Mr. +Turnbull's shocking death put all else out of my mind; I never once +thought of the dogs." + +"In spite of the fact that it was a wager over the dogs which +brought about the whole situation?" remarked the coroner dryly. + +Barbara flushed at his tone, then grew pale. + +"I honestly forgot about the dogs," she repeated. "Father sent +them out to our country place Tuesday afternoon; they annoyed our +- our guest, Mrs. Brewster." + +"In what way?" + +"By barking - 'they are noisy dogs." + +"And yet they did not arouse the household when Mr. Turnbull broke +into the house - Coroner Penfield regarded her sternly. "How do +you account for that?" + +Barbara's right hand stole to the arm of her chair and clasped it +with the same convulsive strength that she clung to the other chair +arm. When she spoke her voice was barely audible. + +"I can account for it in two ways," she began. "If the dogs were +accidentally locked in the cellar they could not possibly hear Mr. +Turnbull moving about the house; if they were roaming about and +scented him, they might not have barked because they would recognize +him as a friend." + +"Were the dogs familiar with his step and voice?" + +"Yes. Only last Sunday he played with them for an hour, and later +in the afternoon took them for a walk in the country." + +"I see." Penfield stroked his chin reflectively. "When your sister +told you of finding the burglar and his arrest, did you not, in the +light of your wager, suspect that he might be Mr. Turnbull?" + +"No." Barbara's eyes did not falter before his direct gaze. "I +supposed that Mr. Turnbull meant to try and enter the house in his +own proper person; it never dawned on me that he would resort to +disguise. Besides," as the coroner started to make a remark, "we +have had numerous robberies in our neighborhood, and the apartment +house two blocks from us has had a regular epidemic of sneak +thieves." + +The coroner waited until Dr. Mayo, who had been writing with +feverish haste, had picked up a fresh sheet of paper before +resuming his examination. + +"You accompanied your sister to the police court," he said. "Did +you see the burglar there?" + +"Yes." + +"Did you realize his identity in the court room?" + +"No. I only awoke to - to the situation when I saw him lying dead +with his wig removed. The shock was frightful"- she closed her eyes +for a second, for the room and the rows of faces confronting her +were mixed in a maddening maze and she raised her hand to her +swimming head. When she looked up she found Coroner Penfield by +her side. + +"That is all," he said kindly. "Please remain in the witness room, +I may call you again," and he helped her down the step with careful +attention. + +Back in his corner Kent watched her departure. He was white to the +lips. + +"Heat too much for you?" asked a kindly-faced stranger, and Kent +gave a mumbled "No," as he strove to pull himself together. + +What deviltry was afoot? How dared the twins take such risks - to +bear false witness was a grave criminal offense. He, alone, among +all the spectators, had realized that in testifying before the +inquest, the twins had swapped identities. + + +CHAPTER IX + +"B-B-B" + +The return of the morgue master to the platform caused Coroner +Penfield to break off his whispered conversation with Dr. Mayo. + +"Colonel McIntyre just telephoned that his car had a blow-out on +the way here," explained the morgue master. "He will arrive +shortly." + +Penfield consulted a list of names. "Call Grimes, the McIntyre +butler," he said. "We will hear him while waiting for the Colonel." + +Grimes, small and thin, with the stolid countenance of the +well-trained servant, was exceedingly short in his replies to the +coroner's questions. Yes, he had lived with the McIntyre during +their residence in Washington, something like five years, he couldn't +quite remember the exact dates. No, there was never any quarreling, +upstairs or down; it was a well-ordered household until this. + +"Exactly," remarked the coroner dryly. "What about Monday night? +Tell us, Grimes, what occurred in that house between midnight +Monday and five o'clock Tuesday morning." + +"Haven't much to tell," was the grumpy response. "I went upstairs +about half-past eleven and got down the next morning at the usual +hour, seven o'clock." + +"And you heard no disturbing sounds in the night?" + +"No; sir. We wouldn't be likely to; the servants' rooms are all +at the top of the house and the staircase leading to them has a +brick wall on either side, like stairs leading to an ordinary attic, +and there's a door at the bottom which shuts off all sound from +below." It was the longest sentence the butler had indulged in and +he paused for breath. + +"Who closes the house at night. Grimes?" + +"I do, sir. + +"Why did you leave the window in the reception room open?" + +"I didn't, sir," was the prompt denial. "I had just locked it when +Mrs. Brewster came in, along with Colonel McIntyre and Mr. Clymer, +and they sat down to talk. When I left the room the window was +locked fast, and so was every door and window in the place," he +declared aggressively. " I'll take my dying oath to it, sir." +Penfield looked at Grimes; that he was telling the truth was +unmistakable. + +"Who sits up to let in the young ladies when they go to balls?" he +asked. + +"Generally no one, sir, because Colonel McIntyre accompanies them +or calls for them, and he has his latch-key. Lately," added Grimes +as an after-thought, "Miss Helen has been using a duplicate +latch-key." + +"Has Miss Barbara McIntyre a latch-key, also?" asked Penfield. + +"No, sir, I believe not," the butler looked dubious. "I recall +that Colonel McIntyre gave Miss Helen her key at the luncheon table, +and he said, then, to Miss Barbara that he couldn't trust her with +one because she would be sure to lose it, she is that careless." + +The coroner asked the next question with such abruptness that the +butler started. + +"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull at the house?" + +"Sunday afternoon." Grimes' reply was spoken with more than his +accustomed quickness of speech. "Mr. Turnbull called twice, after +a long time in the drawing room, he went away taking the police dogs +with him, and later called to bring them back." + +"Where were these dogs on Monday night?" + +"I last saw them in the library," replied Grimes shortly. + +"And where did you find them the next morning?" prompted the coroner. + +"In the cellar," laconically. + +"And what were they doing in the cellar?" + +"Hunting rats." + +"And how did the dogs get in the cellar?" inquired the coroner +patiently. Grimes was not volunteering information, even if he +could not be accused of holding it back. + +"Some one must have let them down the back stairs," the butler +admitted. "I don't know who it was." + +"Which servant got downstairs ahead of you on Tuesday morning?" + +"No one, sir; the cook over-slept, and she and the maids came +down in a bunch ten minutes later." + +"And who told you of the attempted burglary and the burglar's +arrest?" asked Penfield. + +"Miss Barbara. She asked us to hurry breakfast for her and Miss +Helen 'cause they had to go at once to the police court; she didn't +give any particulars, or nothing," added Grimes in an injured tone. +"'Twarn't 'til Thomas and I saw the afternoon papers that we knew +what had been going on in our own house." + +"That is all, Grimes," announced Penfield, and the butler left the +platform with the same stolid air he wore when he arrived. He was +followed in the witness chair by the other McIntyre servants in +succession. Their testimony added nothing to what he had said but +simply confirmed his statements. + +Kent, who had grown restless during the servants' monotonous +testimony, forgot the oppressive atmosphere of the room on seeing +Mrs. Brewster enter under the escort of the morgue master. Spying +a vacant seat several rows ahead of where he was sitting, Kent, +with a muttered apology to the people over whom he crawled in +his efforts to get out, hurried into it just as the vivacious +widow had finished taking the oath to "tell the truth and nothing +but the truth," and seated herself, with much rustling of silk +skirts in the witness chair. + +"State your full name, madam," directed Coroner Penfield, eyeing +her dainty beauty with admiration. + +"Margaret Perry Brewster," she answered. "Widow of Louis C. +Brewster. Both I and my late husband were born and lived in Los +Angeles, California." + +"Are you visiting the Misses McIntyre?" + +"Yes." Mrs. Brewster spoke in a chatty impersonal manner. "I +have been with them since the first of the month." + +"Did you attend the Grosvenor dance?" asked the coroner. + +"No; the affair was only given for the debutantes of last fall and +did not include married people," she explained. "It was a warm +night and Colonel McIntyre asked Mr. Benjamin Clymer, who was +dining with him, and me, to go for a motor ride, leaving Barbara +at the Grosvenors' en route. We did so, returning to the house +about eleven o'clock, and sat talking until about midnight in the +reception room, then Colonel McIntyre drove Mr. Clymer home, and +I went to my room." + +"Were you awakened by any noises during the night?" inquired +Penfield. + +"No; I heard no noises." Mrs. Brewster's charming smile was +infectious. + +"When did you first learn of the supposed burglary and the death +of James Turnbull?" + +"The McIntyre twins told me about the tragedy on their return from +the police court," answered Mrs. Brewster, and settled herself a +little more comfortably in the witness chair. + +"When you were in the reception room, Mrs. Brewster " - Penfield +paused and studied his notes a second -" did you observe if the +window was open or closed?" + +"It was not open when we entered," she responded. "But the air in +the room was stuffy and at my request Mr. Clymer raised the window." + +"Did he close it later?" + +She considered the question. "I really do not recall," she admitted +finally. Her eyes strayed toward the door through which she had +entered, and Penfield answered her unspoken thought. + +"Just one more question," he said hurriedly. "Did you see the dogs +on Monday night?" + +"Yes. I heard them scratching at the door leading to the basement +as I went upstairs, and so I turned around and went down and opened +the door and let them run down into the cellar." + +Penfield snapped shut his notebook. "I am greatly obliged, Mrs. +Brewster; we will not detain you longer." + +The morgue master stepped forward and helped the pretty widow down +from the platform. + +"Colonel McIntyre is here now," he told the coroner. + +"Ah, then bring him in," and Penfield, while awaiting the arrival +of the new witness, straightened the papers on his desk. + +McIntyre looked straight ahead of him as he walked down the room +and stood frowning heavily while the oath was being administered, +but his manner, when the coroner addressed him, had regained all +the suavity and polish which had first captivated Washington +society. + +"I have been a resident of Washington for about five years," he +said in answer to the coroner's question. "My daughters attended +school here after their return from Paris, where they were in a +convent for four years. They made their debut last November at our +home in this city." + +"Were you aware of the wager between your daughter Barbara and James +Turnbull?" asked Penfield. + +"I heard of it Sunday afternoon but paid little attention," admitted +McIntyre. "My daughter Barbara's vagaries I seldom take seriously." + +"Was Mr. Turnbull a frequent visitor at your house?" + +"Oh, yes." + +"Was he engaged to your daughter Helen?" + +"No." McIntyre's denial was prompt and firmly spoken. Penfield +and Kent, from his new seat nearer the platform, watched the +colonel narrowly, but learned nothing from his expression. + +"I have heard otherwise," observed the coroner dryly. + +"You have been misinformed," McIntyre's manner was short. "I +would suggest, Mr. Coroner, that you confine your questions and +conjectures to matters pertinent to this inquiry." + +Penfield flushed as one of the jurors snickered, but he did not +repeat his previous question, asking instead, "Was there good +feeling between you and Mr. Turnbull?" + +"I never quarreled with him," replied McIntyre. "I really saw +little of him as, whenever he called at the house, he came to see +one or the other of my daughters, or both." + +"When did you last see Mr. Turnbull?" inquired Penfield. + +"He was at the house on Sunday and I had quite a talk with him," +McIntyre leaned back in his chair and regarded the neat crease in +his trousers with critical eyes. "I last saw Turnbull going out +of the street door." + +"Were you disturbed by the burglar's entrance on Monday night?" + +McIntyre shook his head. "I am a heavy sleeper," he said. "I +regret very much that my daughter Helen did not at once awaken me +on finding the burglar, as she supposed, hiding in the closet. I +knew nothing of the affair until Grimes informed me of it, and +only reached the police court in time to bring my daughters home +from the distressing scene following the identification of the dead +burglar as Jimmie Turnbull." + +"Colonel McIntyre," Penfield turned over several papers until he +found the one he sought. "Mrs. Brewster has testified that while +you and she were sitting in the reception room, Mr. Clymer opened +the window. Did you close it on leaving the room?" + +McIntyre reflected before answering. "I cannot remember doing so," +he stated finally. "Clymer was in rather a hurry to leave, and +after bidding Mrs. Brewster good night, we went straight out to +the car and I drove him to the Saratoga." + +"Then you cannot swear to the window having been re-locked?" + +"I cannot." + +Penfield paused a moment. "Did you return immediately to your house +from the Saratoga apartment?" + +"I did" promptly. "My chauffeur, Harris, wasn't well, and I wanted +him to get home." + +Penfield thought a moment before putting the next question. + +"How did Miss Barbara return from the Grosvenor dance?" he asked. + +"She was brought home by friends, Colonel and Mrs. Chase." McIntyre +in turning about in his chair knocked down his walking stick from +its resting place against its side, and the unexpected clatter made +several women, nervously inclined, jump in their seats. Observing +them, McIntyre smiled and was still smiling amusedly when Penfield +addressed him. + +"Did you observe many lights burning in your house when you +returned?" asked Penfield. + +"No, only those which are usually left lit at night." + +"Was your daughter Helen awake?" + +"I do not know. Her room was in darkness when I walked past her +door on my way to bed." + +Penfield removed his eye-glasses and polished them on his silk +handkerchief. "I have no further questions to ask. Colonel, you +are excused." + +McIntyre bowed gravely to him and as he left the platform came face +to face with his family physician, Dr. Stone. + +Penfield, who was an old acquaintance of the physician's, signed to +him to come on the platform. After the preliminaries had been gone +through, he shifted his chair around, the better to face Stone. + +"Did you accompany the Misses McIntyre to the police court on +Tuesday morning?" he asked. + +"I did," responded the physician, "at Miss Barbara's request. She +said her sister was not very well and they disliked going alone to +the police court." + +"Did she state why she did not ask her father to go with them?" + +"Only that he had not fully recovered from an attack of tonsilitis, +which I knew to be a fact, and they did not want him to over-tax +his strength." + +There was a moment's pause as the coroner, his attention diverted +by a whispered word or two from the morgue master, referred to his +notes before resuming his examination. + +"Did you know James Turnbull?" he asked a second later. + +"Yes, slightly." + +"Did you recognize him in his burglar's disguise?" + +"I did not" + +"Had you any suspicion that the burglar was other than he seemed?" + +"No." + +Penfield picked up a memorandum handed him by Dr. Mayo and referred +to it. "I understand, doctor, that you were the first to go to the +burglar's aid when he became ill," he said. "Is that true?" + +"Yes," Stone spoke with more animation. "Happening to glance inside +the cage where the prisoner sat, I saw he was struggling convulsively +for breath. With Mr. Clymer's assistance I carried him into an +ante-room off the court, but before I had crossed its threshold +Turnbull expired in my arms." + +"Was he conscious before he died?" + +At the question Kent bent eagerly forward. What would be the reply? + +"I am not prepared to answer that with certainty," replied Dr. Stone +cautiously. "As I picked him up I heard him stammer faintly: +'B-b-b.'" + +Kent started so violently that the man next to him turned and +regarded him for a moment, then, more interested in what was +transpiring on the platform, promptly forgot his agitated neighbor. + +"Was Turnbull delirious, doctor?" asked the coroner. + +Stone shook his head in denial. "No," he stated. "I take it that +he started to say 'Barbara,' and his breath failed him; at any rate +I only caught the stuttered 'B-b-b.'" + +Penfield did not immediately continue his examination, but when he +did so his manner was stern. + +"Doctor, what in your opinion caused Mr. Turnbull's death?" + +"Judging superficially - I made no thorough examination," Stone +explained parenthetically, "I should say that Mr. Rochester was +right when he stated that Turnbull died from an acute attack of +angina pectoris." + +"How did Mr. Rochester come to make that assertion and where?" + +"Immediately after Turnbull's death," replied Stone. "Mr. Rochester, +who shared his apartment, defended him in court. Mr. Rochester was +aware that Turnbull suffered from the disease, and Mr. Clymer, who +was present, also knew it." + +"And what is your opinion, doctor?" questioned Penfield. + +Stone hesitated. "There was a distinct odor of amyl nitrite +noticeable when I went to Turnbull's aid, and I concluded then that +he had some heart trouble and had inhaled the drug to ward off an +attack. It bears out Mr. Rochester's theory of death from angina +pectoris." + +"I see. Thank you, doctor. Please wait with the other witnesses; +we may call you again," and with a sigh the busy physician resigned +himself to spending another hour in the room reserved for the +witnesses. + +The next to take the witness stand was Deputy Marshal Grant. His +testimony was short and concise, - and his description of the +scene in the police court preceding Turnbull's death was +listened to with deep attention by every one. + +"Did the prisoner show any symptoms of illness before his heart +attack?" asked Penfield. + +"Not exactly illness," replied Grant slowly. "I noticed he didn't +move very quickly; sort of shambled, as if he was weak in his legs. +I've seen 'drunk and disorderlies' act just that way, and paid no +particular attention to him. He did ask for a drink of water +just after he returned to the cage." + +"Did you give it to him?" + +"No, an attendant gave the glass to Mr. Rochester who handed it +to Mr. Turnbull." + +Penfield regarded Grant in silence for a minute. "That is all," +he announced, and with a polite bow the deputy marshal withdrew. + +Detective Ferguson recognized Kent as he passed up the room to the +platform and gave him a slight bow and smile, but the smile had +disappeared when, at the coroner's request, he told of his arrival +just after the discovery of the burglar's identity. + +"I searched the cage where the prisoner had been seated and found +this handkerchief," he went on to say. "It had been dropped by +Turnbull and was saturated with amyl nitrite. I had it examined +by a chemist, who said that this amyl nitrite was given to patients +with heart trouble in little pearl capsules to be crushed in +handkerchiefs and the fumes inhaled. + +"The chemist also told me that" - the detective spoke with +impressive seriousness, "judging from the number of particles of +capsules adhering to the linen, more than one capsule had been +crushed by Turnbull. Here is the handkerchief," and he laid it +on the table with great care. + +Kent's heart sank; the moment he had dreaded all that long +afternoon had come. Penfield inspected the handkerchief with +interest, and then passed it to the jurors, cautioning them to +handle it carefully. + +"I note," he stated, turning again to Detective Ferguson, "that +it is a woman's handkerchief." + +"It is," replied Ferguson. "And embroidered in one corner is the +initial 'B.'" + +Penfield ran his fingers through his gray hair. "You may go, +Ferguson," he said, and beckoned to the morgue master. "Ask Miss +Barbara McIntyre to return." + +The girl was quick in answering the summons. Kent, more and more +worried, was watching the scene with painful attention. + +"Did Mr. Turnbull have one of your handkerchiefs?" asked Penfield. + +Her surprise at the question was manifest in her manner. + +"He might have," she said. "I have a dreadful habit of dropping +my handkerchiefs around." + +"Did you miss one after his visit to your house on Monday night?" + +"Miss McIntyre," Penfield took up the handkerchief which the +foreman replaced on his desk a moment before, and holding it with +care extended it toward the girl. "Is this your handkerchief?" + +She inspected the handkerchief and the initial with curiosity, but +with nothing more, Kent was convinced, and in his relief was +almost guilty of disturbing the decorum of the inquest with a shout +of joy. + +"It is not my handkerchief," she stated clearly. + +Penfield replaced the handkerchief on the table with the same care +he had picked it up, and turned again to her. + +"Thank you, Miss McIntyre; I won't detain you longer. Logan," to +the morgue master, "ask Dr. Stone to step here." + +Almost immediately Stone reentered the room and hurried to the +platform. + +"Would two or more capsules of amyl nitrite constitute a lethal +dose?" asked Penfield. + +"They would be very apt to finish a feeble heart," replied Stone. +"Three capsules, if inhaled deeply would certainly kill a healthy +person." + +Penfield showed the handkerchief to the physician. "Can a chemist +tell, from the particles clinging to this handkerchief, how many +capsules have been used?" + +"I should say he could." Stone looked grave as he inspected the +linen, taking careful note of the letter "B" in one corner of the +handkerchief. "But there is this to be considered - Turnbull may +not have crushed those capsules all at the same time." + +"What do you mean?" + +"He may have felt an attack coming on earlier in the evening and +used a capsule, and in the police court used the same handkerchief +in the same manner." + +"I see," Penfield nodded. "The point is cleverly taken." + +Kent silently agreed with the coroner. The next instant Stone was +excused, and after a slight pause the deputy coroner, Dr. Mayo, +left his table and his notes and occupied the witness chair, after +first being sworn. The preliminaries did not consume much time, +and Penfield's manner was brisk as he addressed his assistant. + +"Did you make a post-mortem examination of Turnbull?" he asked. + +"I did, sir, in the presence of the morgue master and Dr. McLane." +Dr. Mayo displayed an anatomical chart, drawing his pencil down it +as he talked. "We found from the condition of the heart that the +deceased had suffered from angina pectoris" - he paused and spoke +more slowly - "in examining the gastric contents we found the +presence of aconitine." + +"Aconitine?" questioned Penfield, and the reporters, scenting the +sensational, leaned forward eagerly so as not to miss the deputy +coroner's answer. + +"Aconitine, an active poison," he explained. "It is the alkaloid +of aconite, and generally fatal in its results." + + +CHAPTER X + +AT THE CLUB DE VINGT + +The large building of the popular Club de Vingt, or as one +Washingtonian put it, the "Club De Vin," which had sprung into +existence in the National Capital during the war, was ablaze with +light and Benjamin Clymer, sitting at a small table in one corner +of the dining-room, wished most heartily that it had been less +crowded. Many dinner-parties were being given that night, and +it was only by dint of perseverance and a Treasury note that he +had finally induced the head waiter to put in an extra table for +him and his guest, Harry Kent. Kent had been very late and, to +add to his short-comings, had been silent, not to say morose, +during dinner. Clymer heaved a sigh of relief when the table was +cleared and coffee and cigars placed before them. + +Kent roused himself from his abstraction. "We cannot talk here," +he said, looking at the gay diners who surrounded them. "And I +have several important matters to discuss with you, Mr. Clymer." + +His remark was overheard by their waiter, and he stopped pouring +out Kent's coffee. + +"There is a small smoking room to the right of the dining room," +he suggested. "I passed there but a moment ago and it was not +occupied. If you desire, sir, I will serve coffee there." + +"An excellent idea." Clymer rose quickly and he and Kent followed +the waiter to the inclosed porch which had been converted into an +attractive lounging room for the club members. It was much cooler +than the over-heated dining room, and Kent was grateful for the +subdued light given out by the artistically shaded lamps with which +it was furnished. There was silence while the waiter with deft +fingers arranged the coffee and cigars on a wicker table; then +receiving Clymer's generous tip with a word of thanks, the man +departed. + +Kent wheeled his chair around so as to face his companion and +still have a side view of the dining room, where tables were being +rapidly removed for the dance which followed dinners on Thursday +nights. Clymer selected a cigar with care and, leaning back in +his chair until the wicker creaked under his weight, he waited +patiently for Kent to speak. It was fully five minutes before Kent +addressed him. + +"So James Turnbull was poisoned after all," he commented. "A week +ago I would have sworn that Jimmie hadn't an enemy in the world." + +"Ah, but he had; and a very bitter vindictive enemy, if the evidence +given at the coroner's inquest this afternoon is to be believed," +replied Clymer seriously. "The case is remarkably puzzling." + +"It is." Kent bit savagely at his cigar as a slight vent to his +feelings. "'Killed by a dose of aconitine by a person or persons +unknown,' was the jury's verdict, and a nice tangle they have left +me to ferret out.'' + +"You?" + +"Yes. I'm going to solve this mystery if it is a possible thing." +Kent's tone was grim. "And Colonel McIntyre only gave me until +Saturday night to work in." + +Clymer eyed him in surprise. "McIntyre desires to get back his +lost securities; judging from his comments after the inquest, he is +not particularly interested in who killed Turnbull." + +"But I am," exclaimed Kent. "The more I think of it, the more +convinced I am that the forged letter, with the subsequent +disappearance of McIntyre's securities has some connection with +Jimmie's untimely death, be it murder or suicide." + +"Suicide?" Clymer' s raised eyebrows indicated his surprise. + +"Yes," shortly. "Aconitine would have killed just as surely if +swallowed with suicidal intent as if administered with murderous +design." + +A pause followed which neither man seemed anxious to break, then +Kent turned to the banker, and the latter noticed the haggard +lines in his face. + +"Listen to me, Mr. Clymer," he began. "My instinct tells me that +Jimmie Turnbull never forged that letter or stole McIntyre's +securities, but I admit that everything points to his guilt, +even his death." + +"How so?" + +"Because the theft of the securities supplies a motive for his +suicide - fear of exposure and imprisonment," argued Kent. "But +there is no motive, so far as I can see, for Jimmie's murder. +Men don't kill each other without a motive. "There is homicidal +mania," suggested Clymer. + +"But not in this case," retorted Kent. "We are sane men and it is +up to us to find out if Jimmie died by his own hand or was killed +by some unknown enemy.'' + +"Rest easy, Mr. Kent," said a voice from the doorway and Kent, who +had turned his back in that direction the better to talk to Clymer, +whirled around and found Detective Ferguson regarding him just +inside the threshold. "Mr. Turnbull's enemy is not unknown and +will soon be under arrest." + +"Who is he?" demanded Clymer and Kent simultaneously. + +"Philip Rochester." + +Clymer was the first to recover from his astonishment. "Oh, get +out!" he exclaimed incredulously. "Why, Rochester was Turnbull's +most intimate friend." + +"Until they fell in love with the same girl," answered Ferguson +succinctly, taking possession of the only other chair the porch +boasted. "One quarrel led to another and then Rochester did for +him. Oh, it dove-tails nicely; motive, jealous anger; opportunity, +recognition in court of Turnbull disguised as a burglar, at the +same time Rochester learns that Turnbull has been caught after +midnight in the house of his sweetheart -" + +"D - mn you!" Kent sprang for the detective's throat. "Cut out +your abominable insinuations. Miss McIntyre shall not be insulted." + +"I'm not insulting her," gasped Ferguson, half strangled. "Let go, +Mr. Kent. I'm only telling you what that half crazy partner of +yours, Rochester, was probably thinking in the police court. Let +go, I say." + +Clymer aided the detective in freeing himself. "Sit down, Kent," +he said sternly. "Ferguson meant no offense. Go ahead, man, and +tell us the rest of your theories." + +It was some minutes, however, before the detective had collected +sufficient breath to answer intelligently. + +"I size it up this way," he began with a resentful glance at Kent +who had dropped back in his chair again. "Rochester knew his +friend had heart disease and that his sudden death would be +attributed to it - so he took a sporting chance and administered +a fatal dose of aconitine." + +"How was it done?" asked Clymer. + +"Just slipped the poison into the glass of water he handed to +Turnbull in the court room," explained Ferguson, and glanced in +triumph at Kent. "Neat, wasn't it?" + +Kent regarded the detective, his mind in a whirl. His theory was +certainly plausible, but - "Have you other evidence to prove, your +theory?" he asked. + +"Yes." Ferguson checked off his points on his fingers. "Remember +how insistent Mr. Rochester was that Turnbull had died from +angina pectoris?" + +"I do," acknowledged Clymer, deeply interested. "Continue, +Ferguson." + +The detective needed no second bidding. + +"Another point," he began. "There never would have been a +post-mortem examination if Miss Helen McIntyre hadn't asked for +it. She knew of the ill-feeling between the men and suspected +foul play on Rochester's part." + +"Wait," commanded Kent. "Has Miss McIntyre substantiated that +statement?" + +"Not yet," admitted Ferguson. "I stopped at her house, but the +butler said the young ladies had retired and could not see any +one." Kent, who had called there on the way to keep his dinner +engagement with Clymer, had been met with the same statement, to +his bitter disappointment. He most earnestly desired to see the +twins and to see them together, to make one more effort to +induce them to confide in him; for that they had some secret +trouble he was convinced; he longed to be of aid, but his hands +were tied through lack of information. + +"Don't imply motives to Miss McIntyre's act until you have +verified them, Ferguson," he cautioned. "Go on with your +theories." + +"One moment," Clymer broke into the conversation. "Did Rochester +tell you, Ferguson, that he had recognized Turnbull in his burglar +disguise?" + +"No, sir; I never had an opportunity to ask him, for he disappeared +Tuesday night and has not been seen or heard of since," Ferguson +rejoined. + +"Hold on," Kent checked him with an impatient gesture. "I had a +telegram from Rochester this morning, stating he was in Cleveland." + +"I didn't forget about the telegram," retorted Ferguson. "It was +to consult you about that, that I hunted you up to-night. That +telegram was bogus." + +"What!" Kent half rose from his chair. + +"Yes. After the inquest I called Cleveland on the long distance, +talked with the City Club officials and with Police Headquarters; +all declared that Rochester was not there, and no trace could be +found of his having ever arrived in the city." + +Clymer laid down his half smoked cigar and stared at the detective. + +"You think then that Rochester has bolted?" he asked. + +"It looks that way," insisted Ferguson. "How about it, Mr. Kent?" +The question was put with a touch of arrogance. + +Kent did not reply immediately. Every fact that Ferguson had +brought out fitted the situation, and Rochester's disappearance +added color to the detective's charges. Why was he hiding +unless from guilty motives, and where had he gone? Kent shook a +bewildered head. + +"It is plausible," he conceded, "but, after all, only +circumstantial evidence." + +"Well, circumstantial evidence is good enough for me to work on," +retorted Ferguson. "On discovering that the telegram from Cleveland +was a hoax, I concluded Ferguson might be lurking around Washington +and so sent a description of him to the different precincts and +secured a search warrant." + +"You did?" + +"Yes. Armed with it I visited Mr. Rochester's apartment, but +couldn't find a clew to his present whereabouts," admitted Ferguson. +"So then I went to your office, Mr. Kent, and ransacked the firm's +safe." + +"Confound you!" Kent leaned forward in his wrath and shook his fist +at the detective. "What right had you to do such a thing?" + +"The search warrant covered it," explained Ferguson. "I could look +through your safe, Mr. Kent, because Rochester was your senior +partner and you shared the office together; I was within the law." + +"Perhaps you were," Kent controlled his anger with an effort. "But +I had told you I did not know Rochester's whereabouts before I +showed you the Cleveland telegram, which you claim is bogus." + +"It's bogus, all right," insisted the detective. "I thought it just +possible I might find some paper which would give me a clew to +Rochester's hiding place, so I went through the safe." + +"How did you get it open?" asked Kent. + +"I found it open." + +Kent leapt to his feet. "You - found - it open! "- he stammered. +"Why, man, I locked that safe securely just before I left the office +at six o'clock." + +Sure?" + +Absolutely certain." + +"Were you alone?" + +"Yes, all alone. Sylvester left at five o'clock" + +"Who knew the combination of the safe?" + +"Only Rochester and I." + +It was Ferguson's turn to spring up "By -!" he exclaimed. "I thought +the electric bulbs in the office felt warm, as if they had recently +been burning - Rochester must have been there just before me." + +"It would seem that Rochester is still in the city," remarked Clymer. +"Do you know, Kent, whether he had his office keys with him?" + +"I presume so," Kent slipped his hand inside his pocket and took +out a bunch of keys. "He left these duplicates in his desk at the +office." + +"Sure they are duplicates?" questioned Ferguson, and Kent flushed. + +"I know they are," he retorted. "Rochester had them made over a +year ago as a matter of convenience, for he was always forgetting +his keys, and kept these at our office." + +"He's a queer cuss," was the detective's only comment and Clymer +broke into the conversation. + +"Did you find any address or paper in the safe which might prove +a clew, Ferguson?" he inquired. + +"Nothing, not even a scrap of paper," and the detective's tone was +glum. + +"Did the safe look as if its contents had been tumbled about?" +asked Kent. + +"No, everything seemed in order." Ferguson thrust his hand inside +his coat pocket. "There was one envelope in the right hand +compartment which puzzled me -" + +"Hold on - was that compartment also unlocked?" asked Kent. + +"It was," not giving Kent time to speak again Ferguson continued +his remarks. "As this was unaddressed I brought it to you, Mr. +Kent, to ask if it was your personal property" - he drew out the +white envelope which Helen McIntyre had brought Kent that morning +and turned it over so that both men could see the large red seal +bearing the letter "B." + +"It is my property," asserted Kent instantly. + +"Would you mind opening it?" asked Ferguson. + +"I would, most certainly; it relates to my personal affairs." + +Ferguson looked a trifle non-plussed. "Would you mind telling me +its contents, Mr. Kent?" he asked persuasively. + +Kent regarded the detective squarely. He could not betray Helen, +the envelope might contain harmless nonsense, but she had placed it +in his safe-keeping - no, confound it, she had left it in the safe +for Rochester - and Rochester was apparently a fugitive from justice, +while circumstantial evidence pointed to his having poisoned Helen's +lover, Jimmie... + +"If you must know, Ferguson," Kent spoke with deliberation. "They +are old love letters of mine." + +Clymer glanced down at the envelope which the detective still held, +the red seal making a distinct blotch of color on the white, glazed +surface. + +"Ah, Kent," he said in amusement. "So rumor is right in predicting +your engagement to Barbara McIntyre. Good luck to you!" + +Through the open doorway to the dining room where the dancing had +ceased for the moment, came a soft laugh and Mrs. Brewster looked +in at them. McIntyre, standing like her shadow, gazed in curiosity +over her shoulder at the three men. + +"How jolly to find you," cooed Mrs. Brewster. "And what a charming +retreat! It's much too nice to be occupied by men, only." She +inclined her head in a little gracious bow to Ferguson and stepped +inside. + +"Have my chair," suggested Clymer hospitably as the pretty widow +raised her lorgnette and scanned the Oriental hangings and lamps, +and lastly, the white envelope which lay on the table, red seal +uppermost, where Ferguson had placed it on her entrance. + +"Are your daughters here, Colonel McIntyre?" asked Kent as he took +a step toward the table. McIntyre's answer was drowned in an +outburst of cheering in the dining room and the rush of many feet. +On common impulse Kent and the others turned toward the doorway and +looked inside the dining room. Two officers of the French High +Commission were being held on the shoulders of comrades and were +delivering, as best they could amidst cheers and applause, their +farewell to hospitable Washington. + +As his companions brushed by him to join the gay throng in the +center of the room, Kent turned back to pick up the envelope he had +left lying on the table. It was gone. + +In feverish haste Kent looked under the table, under the chairs, the +lounge and its cushions, behind the draperies, and even under the +rugs which covered the floor of the porch, and then rose and +stared into the dining room. Which one of his companions had taken +the envelope? + +Outside the porch the beautiful trumpet vine, its sturdy trunk and +thick branches reaching almost to the roof of the club building, +rustled as in a high wind, and the branches swayed this way and that +as a figure climbed swiftly down from the porch until, reaching the +fence separating the club property from its neighbor's, the man +swung across it, no mean athletic feet, and taking advantage of each +sheltering shadow, darted into the alley and from there down silent, +deserted Nineteenth Street. + + +CHAPTER XI + +HALF A TRUTH + +Dancing was being resumed in the dining room as Kent appeared again +in the doorway and he made his way as quickly as possible among the +couples, going into all the rooms on that floor, but nowhere could +he find Detective Ferguson. On emerging from the drawing room, he +encountered the steward returning from downstairs. + +"Have you seen Mr. Clymer?" he asked hurriedly. + +"Yes, Mr. Kent; he just left the club, taking Detective Ferguson +with him in his motor. Is there anything I can do?" added the +steward observing Kent's agitation. + +"No, no, thanks. Say, where is Colonel McIntyre?" Kent gave up +further pursuit of the detective, he could find him later at +Headquarters. The steward looked among the dancers. "I don't +see him," he said, "But there is Mrs. Brewster dancing in the +front room; the Colonel must be somewhere around. If I meet him, +Mr. Kent, shall I tell him you are looking for him?" + +"I will be greatly obliged if you will do so," replied Kent, and +straightening his tie, he went in quest of the pretty widow. He +had found her a merry chatter-box in the past, possibly he could +gain valuable information from her. He found Mrs. Brewster just +completing her dance with a fine looking Italian officer whose +broad breast bore many military decorations. + +"Dance the encore with me" - Kent could be very persuasive when +he wished, and Mrs. Brewster dimpled with pleasure, but there was a +faint indecision in her manner which he was quick to note. What +prompted it? He had been on friendly terms with her; in fact, she +had openly championed his cause, so Barbara had once told him, when +Colonel McIntyre had made caustic remarks about his frequent calls +at the McIntyre house. + +"Just one turn," she said, as the foreigner bowed and withdrew. "I +am feeling a little weary to-night - the strain of the inquest," she, +added in explanation. + +"Perhaps you would rather sit out the dance," he suggested. "There +is an alcove in that window; oh, pshaw!" as a man and a girl took +possession of the chairs. + +"Never mind, we can roost on the stairs," Mrs. Brewster preceded +him to the staircase leading to the third floor, and sat down, +bracing her back very comfortably against the railing, while +Kent seated himself at her feet on the lower step. "Extraordinary +developments at the inquest this afternoon," he began, as she +volunteered no remark. "To think of Jimmie Turnbull being +poisoned!" + +"It is unbelievable," she said, and her vehemence was a surprise to +Kent; he knew her as all froth and bubble. What had brought the +dark circles under her eyes and the unwonted seriousness in her +manner? + +"Unbelievable, yes," he agreed gravely. "But true; the autopsy +ended all doubt." + +"You mean it developed doubt," she corrected, and a sigh accompanied +the words. "Have the police any clew to the guilty man?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure," Kent spoke with caution. + +"You don't?" Her voice was a little sharp. "Didn't Detective +Ferguson give you any news when talking to you on the porch?" + +"So you recognized the detective?" + +"I? No; I have never seen him before" - she nodded gayly to an +acquaintance passing through the hall. "Colonel McIntyre told me +his name. It was so odd to meet a man here not in evening clothes +that I had to ask who he was." + +"Ferguson came to bring me some papers about a personal matter," +explained Kent. He turned so as to face her. "Did you see a +white envelope lying on the table when you walked out on the +porch?" + +She bowed her head absently, her foot keeping time to the inspiring +music played by the orchestra stationed on the stair landing just +above where they sat. "You left it lying on the table." + +"Yes, so I did," replied Kent. "And I believe I was so ungallant +as to bolt into the dining room in front of you. Please accept my +apologies." Behind her fan, which she used with languid grace, +the widow watched him. + +"We all bolted together," she responded, "and are equally guilty -" + +"Of what?" questioned a voice from the background, and looking up +Kent saw Colonel McIntyre standing on the step above Mrs. Brewster. +The music had ceased and in the lull their conversation had been +distinctly audible. + +"Guilty of curiosity," finished the widow. + +"Colonel de Geofroy's farewell speech was very amusing, did you +not think so?" + +"I did not stay to hear it," Kent confessed. "I had to return to +the porch and get my envelope." + +"You were a long time about it," commented McIntyre, sitting down +by Mrs. Brewster and possessing himself of her fan. "I waited to +tell you that Helen and Barbara were worn out after the inquest +and so stayed at home to-night, but you didn't show up." + +"Neither did the envelope," retorted Kent, and as his companions +looked at him, he added. "It had disappeared off the table." + +"Probably blew away," suggested McIntyre. "I noticed a strong +current of air from the dining room, and two of the windows +inclosing the porch were open. + +"That's hardly possible," Kent replied skeptically. "The envelope +weighed at least two ounces; it would have taken quite a gale to +budge it." + +McIntyre turned red. "Are you insinuating that one of us walked +off with your envelope, Kent?" he demanded angrily. Mrs. Brewster +stayed him as he was about to rise. + +"Did you not say that Detective Ferguson brought you the envelope, +Mr. Kent?" she asked. + +"Yes." + +"Then what more likely than that he carried it off again?" She +smiled amusedly as Kent's expression altered. "Why not ask the +detective?" + +Her suggestion held a grain of truth. Suppose Ferguson had not +believed his statement that the papers in the envelope were his +personal property and had taken the envelope away to examine it +at his leisure? The thought brought Kent to his feet. + +"Good night, Mrs. Sherlock Holmes," he said jestingly, "I'll +follow your advice - There was no opportunity to say more, for +several men had discovered the widow's perch on the stairs and +came to claim their dances. Over their heads McIntyre watched +Kent stride downstairs, then stooping over he picked up Mrs. +Brewster's fan and sat down to patiently await her return. + +Kent's pursuit of the detective took longer than he had anticipated, +and it was after midnight before he finally located him at the +office of the Chief of Detectives in the District Building. "I've +called for the envelope you took from my safe early this evening," +he began without preface, hardly waiting for the latter's surprised +greeting. + +"Why, Mr. Kent, I left it lying on the porch table at the club," +declared Ferguson. "Didn't you take it?" + +"No." Kent's worried expression returned. "Like a fool I forgot +the envelope when that cheering broke out in the dining room and +rushed to find out what it was about; when I returned to the porch +the envelope was gone. + +"Disappeared?" questioned Ferguson in astonishment. + +"Disappeared absolutely; I searched the porch thoroughly and couldn't +find a trace of it," Kent explained. "And in spite of McIntyre's +contention that it might have blown out of the window, I am certain +it did not." + +"The windows were open, and I recollect there was a strong draught," +remarked Ferguson thoughtfully. "But not sufficient to carry away +that envelope." + +"Exactly." Kent stepped closer. "Did you observe which one of our +companions stood nearest the porch table?" + +Ferguson eyed him curiously. "Say, are you insinuating that one of +those people took your envelope?" + +"Yes." + +A subdued whistle escaped Ferguson. "What was in that envelope. +Mr. Kent," he demanded, "to make it of any value to that bunch?" and +as Kent did not answer immediately, he added, "Are you sure it had +nothing to do with Jimmie Turnbull's death and Philip Rochester's +disappearance?" + +"Quite sure." Kent's gaze did not waver before his penetrating look. +"I have already told you that the envelope contained old love letters, +and I very naturally do not wish them to fall into the hands of +Colonel McIntyre, the father of the girl I hope to marry." + +Ferguson smiled understandingly. "I see. From what I know of +Colonel McIntyre there's a very narrow, nagging spirit concealed +under his frank and engaging manner; I wish you joy of your future +father-in-law," and he chuckled. + +"Thanks," dryly. "You haven't answered my question as to who stood +nearest the porch table, Ferguson." + +The detective looked thoughtful. "We all stood fairly near; perhaps +Mrs. Brewster was a shade the nearest. Mr. Clymer was offering her +a chair when that noise came from the dining room. There's one thing +I am willing to swear to" - his manner grew more earnest -" that +envelope was still lying on the table when I hustled into the dining +room." + +"Well, who was the last person to leave the porch?" Kent demanded +eagerly. + +"I don't know," was the disappointing answer. "I reached the door +at the same moment you did and passed right around the dining room +to get a view of what was going on. I thought I would take a squint +at the tables and see if there was any wine being used," he admitted. +"But there was nothing doing in that line. Then Mr. Clymer offered +to bring me down to Headquarters, and I left the club with him." + +Kent took a turn about the room. "Did Mr. Clymer go to the Cosmos +Club?" he asked, pausing by the detective. + +"No, I heard him tell his chauffeur to drive to the Saratoga. Want +to use the telephone?" observing Kent's glance stray to the +instrument. + +By way of answer Kent took off the receiver and after giving a +number to Central, he recognized Clymer's voice over the telephone. + +"That you, Mr. Clymer? Yes, well, this is Kent speaking. Can you +tell me who was the last person to leave the porch when Colonel de +Geofroy made his farewell speech to-night at the club?" + +"I was," came Clymer's surprised answer. + +"I waited for McIntyre to pick up Mrs. Brewster's fan." + +"Did he take my letter off the table also?" called Kent. + +"Why, no." Clymer's voice testified to his increased surprise. +"Mrs. Brewster dropped her fan right in the doorway just as McIntyre +and I approached; we both stooped to get it and, like fools; bumped +our heads together in the act. He got the fan, however, and I +waited for him to walk into the dining room before following Mrs. +Brewster." + +"As you passed the table, Mr. Clymer, did you see my letter lying +on the table?" persisted Kent. + +"Upon my word I never looked at the table," Clymer's hearty tone +carried conviction. "I walked right along in my hurry to know what +the cheering was about. I am sorry, Kent; have you mislaid your +letter?" + +"Yes," glumly. "Sorry to have disturbed you, Mr. Clymer; good +night," and Clymer's echoing, "Good night" sounded faintly as he +hung up the receiver. + +"Drew blank," he announced, turning to Ferguson. "Confound you, +Ferguson; you bad no right to touch the papers in my safe. If harm +comes from it, I'll make you suffer," and not waiting for the +detective's jumbled apologies and explanations, he hurried from the +building. But once on the sidewalk he paused for thought. McIntyre +must have picked up the white envelope, there was no other feasible +explanation of its disappearance. But what had attracted his +attention to the envelope - the red seal with the big letter " B" +was its only identifying mark. If Helen had only told him the +contents of the envelope! + +Kent struck his clenched fist in his left hand in wrath; something +must be done, he could not stand there all night. Although it was +through no fault of his own that he had lost the envelope +entrusted to his care, he was still responsible to Helen for its +disappearance. She must be told that it was gone, however +unpleasant the task. + +Kent walked hastily along Pennsylvania Avenue until he came to a +drug store still open, and entered the telephone booth. He had +recollected that the twins had a branch telephone in their sitting +room; he would have to chance their being awake at that hour. + +Barbara McIntyre turned on her pillow and rubbed her sleepy eyes; +surely she had been mistaken in thinking she heard the telephone +bell ringing. Even as she lay striving to listen, she dozed off +again, to be rudely awakened by Helen's voice at her ear. + + +"Babs!" came the agitated whisper. "The envelope's gone." + +"Gone!" Barbara swung out of bed. + +"Gone where?" + +"Father has it." + +Downstairs in the library Mrs. Brewster paused on her entrance by +the side of a piece of carved Venetian furniture and laying her +coronation scarf on it, she examined a white envelope - the red +seal was intact. + +At the sound of approaching footsteps she raised a trap door in +the piece of furniture and only her keen ears caught the faint +thud of the envelope as it dropped inside, then with a happy, +tender smile she turned to meet Colonel McIntyre. + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE ECHO OF A LAUGH + +Colonel McIntyre tramped the deserted dining room in exasperation. +Nine o'clock and the twins had not come to breakfast, nor was there +any evidence that Mrs. Brewster intended taking that meal downstairs. + +"Will you wait any longer, sir?" inquired Grimes, who hovered +solicitously in the background. "I'm afraid, sir, your eggs will +be over-done." + +"Bring them along," directed McIntyre, and flung himself into his +chair at the foot of the table. He had been seated but a few +minutes when Barbara appeared and dutifully presented her cheek to +be kissed, then she tripped lightly to Helen's place opposite her +father, and pressed the electric bell for Grimes. + +"Coffee, please," she said as that worthy appeared, and busied +herself in arranging the cups and saucers. "Helen is taking her +breakfast upstairs," she explained to her father. + +"How about Mrs. Brewster?" + +"Still asleep." Barbara poured out her father's coffee with careful +attention to detail. "I peeked into her room a moment ago and she +looked so 'comfy' I hadn't the heart to awaken her. You must have +been very late at the club last night." + +"We got home a little after one o'clock." + +McIntyre helped himself to poached eggs and bacon. "What did you +do last night?" + +"Went to bed early," answered Barbara with brevity. "Helen wasn't +feeling well." + +McIntyre's handsome face showed concern as he glanced across the +table. "Have you sent for Dr. Stone?" + +"No." + +"Why not?" + +"Helen - I - we "- Barbara stumbled in her speech. "We have taken +an aversion to Dr. Stone." + +McIntyre set down his coffee cup with unwonted force, thereby +spilling some of its contents. + +"What!" he exclaimed in complete astonishment, and regarded her +fixedly for a moment. His tolerant manner, which he frequently +assumed toward Barbara, grew stern. "Dr. Stone is my personal +friend, as well as our family physician -" + +"And a cousin of Margaret Brewster," put in Barbara mildly. + +"Well, what of it?" trenchantly, aware that he had colored at +mention of the widow's name. "Nothing," Barbara's eyes opened +innocently. "I only recalled the fact of his relationship as you +enumerated his virtues." + +Colonel McIntyre transferred his regard from her to the butler. +"You need not wait, Grimes." He remained silent until the servant +was safely in the pantry, and then addressed his daughter. "None +of your tricks, Barbara," he cautioned. "If Helen is ill enough +to require medical attention, Dr. Stone is to be sent for, +regardless of your sudden dislike to him, for which, by the way, +you have given no cause." + +"Haven't I?" Barbara folded her napkin with neat exactness. "It's +- it's intangible." + +"Pooh!" McIntyre gave a short laugh, as he pushed back his chair. +"I'm going to see Helen. And Barbara," stopping on his way to the +door, "don't be a fool." + +Barbara rubbed the tiny mole under the lobe of her ear, a trick she +had when absent-minded or in deep thought. "Helen," she announced, +unaware that she spoke loud, "shall have a physician, but it won't +be - why, Grimes," awakening to the servant's noiseless return. "You +can take the breakfast dishes. Did Miss Helen eat anything?" + +"Not very much, miss." Grimes shook a troubled head. "But she done +better than at dinner last night, so she's picking up, and don't you +be worried over her," with emphasis, as he sidled nearer. "Tell me, +miss, is the colonel courtin' Mrs. Brewster?" + +"Ask him," she suggested and smiled at the consternation which +spread over the butler's face. + +"Me, miss!" he exclaimed in horror. "It would be as much as my +place is worth; the colonel's that quick-tempered. Why, miss, just +because I tidied up his desk and put his papers to rights he flew +into a terrible passion." + +"When was that?" + +"Early this morning, miss; and he so upset Thomas, miss, that he +gave notice." + +"Oh, that's too bad." Barbara liked the second man. "Perhaps father +will reconsider and persuade him to stay." + +The butler looked unconvinced. "It was about the police dogs," he +confided to her. "Thomas told him that Miss Helen wanted them +brought back, and the colonel swore at him - 'twas more than Thomas +could stand and he ups and goes." Barbara halted half way to the +door. "Did Thomas get the dogs?" + +"You wait and see, miss." Grimes was guilty of a most undignified +wink. "Thomas ain't forgiven himself for not being here Monday night, +miss; though it wouldn't a done him any good; he wouldn't a heard Mr. +Turnbull climbing in or his arrest, away upstairs in the servants' +quarters." + +"Grimes," Barbara retracted her footsteps and placed her lips very +close to the old servant's ear. + +"When I came in on Tuesday morning I found the door to the attic +stairway standing partly open... + +"Did you now, miss?" The two regarded each other warily. "And +what hour may that have been?" + +The butler cocked his ear for her answer - 'he was sometimes a +little hard of hearing; but he waited in vain, Barbara had +disappeared inside the library. + +Colonel McIntyre had not gone at once to see his daughter Helen, +as Barbara had supposed from his remark, instead he went down the +staircase and into the reception room on the ground floor. It +was generally used as a smoking room and lounge, but when +entertaining was done, cloaks and wraps were left there. McIntyre +looked over the prettily upholstered furniture, then strolled to +the window and carefully inspected the lock; it appeared in perfect +order as he tested it. Pushing the catch back as far as it would +go, he raised the window - the sash moved upward without a sound, +and he leaned out and looked up and down the path which ran the +depth of the house to the kitchen door and servants' entrance. +There was an iron gate separating the path from the sidewalk, always +kept locked at night, and McIntyre had thought that sufficient +protection and had not put an iron grille in the window. + +McIntyre closed and locked the window, then pulling out the gilt +chair which stood in front of the desk, he sat down, selected some +monogrammed paper and penned a few lines in his characteristic +though legible writing. Picking up some red sealing wax, he +lighted the small candle in its brass holder which matched the rest +of the desk ornaments, but before heating the wax he looked for his +signet ring, and frowned when he recalled leaving it on his dresser. +He hesitated a moment, then catching sight of a silver seal lying +at the back of the desk he picked it up and moistened the initial. +A few minutes later he blew out the candle, returned the wax and +seal to a pigeon hole, and carefully placed the envelope with its +well stamped letter "B" in his coat pocket, and tramped upstairs. + +Helen heard his heavy tread coming down the hall toward her room, +and scrambled back to bed. She had but time to arrange her dressing +sacque when her father walked in. + +"Good morning, my dear," he said and, stooping over, kissed her. +As he straightened up, the side of his single-breasted coat turned +back and exposed to Helen's bright eyes the end of a white +envelope. "Barbara told me you are not well," he wheeled forward +a chair and sat down by the bed. "Hadn't I better send for Dr. +Stone?" "Oh, no," her reply, though somewhat faint, was emphatic, +and he frowned. + +"Why not?" aggressively. "I trust you do not share Barbara's +suddenly developed prejudice against the good doctor." + +"I do not require a physician," she said evasively. "I am well." + +McIntyre regarded her vexedly. He could not decide whether her +flushed cheeks were from fever or the result of exertion or +excitement. Excitement over what? He looked about the room; it +reflected the taste of its dainty owner in its furnishings, but +nowhere did he find an answer to his unspoken question, until his +eye lighted on a box of rouge under the electric lamp on her +bed stand. + +"Don't use that," he said, touching the box. + +"You know I detest make-up." + +"Oh, that!" She turned to see what he was talking about. "That +rouge belongs to Margaret Brewster." + +McIntyre promptly changed the conversation. "Have you had your +breakfast?" he asked. + +"Yes; Grimes took the tray down some time ago." Helen watched her +father fidget with his watch fob for several minutes, then asked +with characteristic directness. "What do you wish?" + +"To see that you have proper medical attention if you are ill," he +returned promptly. "How would a week or ten days at Atlantic City +suit you and Barbara?" + +"Not at all." Helen sat up from her reclining position on the +pillows. "You forget, father, that we have a house-guest; Margaret +Brewster is not leaving until May." + +"I had not forgotten," curtly. "I propose that she go with us." + +A faint "Oh!" escaped Helen, otherwise she made no comment, and +McIntyre, after contemplating her for a minute, looked away. + +"Either go to Atlantic City with us, Helen, or resume your normal, +everyday life," he said shortly. "I am tired of heroics; Jimmie +Turnbull was hardly the man to inspire them." + +"Stop!" Helen's voice rang out imperiously. "I will not permit one +word said in disparagement of Jimmie, least of all from you, father. +Wait," as he attempted to speak. "I do not know what traits of +character I may have inherited from you, but I have all mother's +loyalty, and - that loyalty belongs to Jimmie." + +McIntyre's eyes shifted under her gaze. + +"I regret very much this obsession," he said rising. "I will not +attempt to reason with you again, Helen, but "- he made no effort +to lower his voice, "the world - our world will soon know what +manner of man James Turnbull was, of that I am determined." + +"And I "- Helen faced her father proudly - "I will leave no stone +unturned to defend his memory." + +Her father wheeled about. "In doing so, see that you do not +compromise yourself," he remarked coldly, and before the infuriated +girl could answer, he slammed the door shut and stalked downstairs. + +Some half hour later he opened the door of Rochester and Kent's law +office and would have walked unceremoniously into Kent's private +office had not John Sylvester stepped forward from behind his desk +in the corner. + +"Good morning, Colonel," he said civilly. "Mr. Kent is not here. +Do you wish to leave any message?" + +"Oh, good morning, Sylvester," McIntyre's manner was brusque. "When +do you expect Mr. Kent?" + +"In about twenty minutes, Colonel." Sylvester glanced at the wall +clock. "Won't you sit down?" + +McIntyre took the chair and planted it by the window. Never a very +patient man, he waited for Kent with increasing irritation, and at +the end of half an hour his temper was uppermost. "Give me something +to write with," he demanded of Sylvester. Accepting the clerk's +fountain pen without thanks, he walked over to the center table and, +drawing out his leather wallet, took from it a visiting card and, +stooping over, wrote + + You have but thirty-six hours remaining. + McIntyre. + +"See that Mr. Kent gets this card," he directed. "No, don't put it +there," irascibly, as the clerk laid the card on top of a pile of +letters. "Take it into Mr. Kent's office and put it on his desk." + +There was that about Colonel McIntyre which inspired complete +obedience to his wishes, and Sylvester followed his directions +without further question. + +As the clerk stepped into Kent's office McIntyre saw a woman sitting +by the empty desk. She turned her head on hearing footsteps and +their glances met. A faint exclamation broke from her. + +"Margaret!" McIntyre strode past Sylvester. "What are you doing +here?" + +Mrs. Brewster's ready laugh hid all sign of embarrassment. "Must +you know?" she asked archly. "That is hardly fair to Barbara." + +"So Barbara sent you here with a message!" Mrs. Brewster treated +his remark as a statement and not a question, and briskly changed +the subject. + +"I can't wait any longer," she pouted. "Please tell Mr. Kent that +I am sorry not to have seen him." + +"I will, madam." Sylvester placed McIntyre's card in the center of +Kent's desk and flew to open the door for Mrs. Brewster. + +As the widow stepped into the corridor she brushed by an +over-dressed woman, whose cheap finery gave clear indication of her +tastes. Hardly noticing another's presence she turned and took +McIntyre's arm and they strolled off together, her soft laugh +floating back to where Mrs. Sylvester stood talking to her husband. + + +CHAPTER XIII + +THE FACE AT THE WINDOW + +Harry Kent rang the doorbell at the McIntyre residence for the fifth +time, and wondered what had become of the faithful Grimes; the butler +was usually the soul of promptness, and to keep a caller waiting on +the doorstep would, in his category, rank as the height of +impropriety. As Kent again raised his hand toward the bell, the +door swung open suddenly and Barbara beckoned to him to come inside. + +"The bell is out of order," she explained. "I saw you from the +window. Hurry, and Grimes won't know that you are here," and she +darted ahead of him into the reception room. Kent followed more +slowly; he was hurt that she had had no other greeting for him. + +"Babs, aren't you glad to see me?" he asked wistfully. + +For an instant her eyes were lighted by her old sunny smile. + +"You know I am," she whispered softly. As his arms closed around +her and their lips met in a tender kiss she added fervently, "Oh, +Harry, why didn't you make me marry you in the happy bygone days?" + +"I asked you often enough," he declared. + +"Will you go with me to Rockville at once?" Her face changed and +she drew back from him. "No," she said. "It is selfish of me to +think of my own happiness now." + +"How about mine?" demanded Kent with warmth. "If you won't consider +yourself, consider me." + +"I do." She looked out of the window to conceal sudden blinding +tears. There was a hint of hidden tragedy in her lovely face which +went to Kent's heart. + +"Sweetheart," his voice was very tender, "is there nothing I can do +for you?" + +"Nothing," she shook her head drearily. "This family must 'dree +its weir.' + +Kent studied her in silence; that she was in deadly earnest he +recognized, she was no hysterical fool or given to sentimental +twaddle. + +"You came to me on Wednesday to ask my aid in solving Jimmie +Turnbull's death," he said. "I have learned certain facts -" + +Barbara sprang to her feet. "Wait," she cautioned. "Let me close +the door. Now, go on -" with her customary impetuosity she reseated +herself. + +"Before I do so, I must tell you, Babs, that I recognized the fraud +you and Helen perpetrated at the coroner's inquest yesterday +afternoon." + +"Fraud?" + +"Yes," quietly. "I am aware that you impersonated Helen on the +witness stand and vice versa. You took a frightful risk." + +"I don't see why," she protested. "In my testimony I told nothing +but the truth." + +"I never doubted you told the truth regarding the events of Monday +night as you saw them, but the coroner's questions were put to you +under the impression that you were Helen." Kent scrutinized her +keenly. "Would Helen have been able to give the same answers that +you did without perjuring herself?" + +Barbara started and her face paled. "Are you insinuating that Helen +killed Jimmie?" she cried. + +"No," his emphatic denial was prompt. "But I do believe that she +knows more of what transpired Monday night than she is willing to +admit. Is that not so, Barbara?" + +"Yes," she acknowledged reluctantly. + +"Does she know who poisoned Jimmie?" + +"No - no!" Barbara rested a firm hand on his shoulder. "I swear +Helen does not know. You must believe me, Harry." + +"She may not know," Kent spoke slowly. "But are you sure she does +not suspect some one?" + +"Well, what if I do?" asked Helen quietly, and Kent, looking around, +found her standing just inside the door. Her entrance had been +noiseless. + +"You should tell the authorities, Helen." Kent rose as she passed +him and selected a seat which brought her face somewhat in shadow. +"If you do not you may retard justice." + +"But if I speak I may involve the innocent," she retorted. "I -" +her eyes shifted from him to Barbara and back again. "I cannot +undertake that responsibility." + +"Better that than let the guilty escape through your silence," +protested Kent. "Possibly the theories of the police may coincide +with yours. + +"What are they?" asked Barbara impetuously. + +Kent considered before replying. If Detective Ferguson had gone +so far as to secure a search warrant to go through Rochester's +apartment and office it would not be long before the fact of his +being a "suspect" would be common property; there could, therefore, +be no harm in his repeating Ferguson's conversation to the twins. +In fact, as their legal representative, they were entitled to know +the latest developments from him. + +"Detective Ferguson believes that the poison was administered by +Philip Rochester," he said finally, and watched to see how the +announcement would affect them. Barbara's eyes opened to their +widest extent, and back in her corner, into which she had +gradually edged her chair, Helen emitted a long, long breath as +her taut muscles relaxed. + +"What makes Ferguson think Philip guilty?" demanded Barbara. + +"It is known that he and Jimmie were not on good terms," replied +Kent. "Then Rochester's disappearance after Jimmie's death lends +color to the theory." + +"Has Philip really disappeared?" asked Helen. "You showed me a +telegram -" + +"Apparently the telegram was a fake," admitted Kent. "The Cleveland +police report that he is not at the address given in the telegram." + +"But who could have an object in sending such a telegram?" asked +Barbara slowly. + +"Rochester, in the hope of throwing the police off his track, if +he really killed Jimmie." Kent looked straight at Helen. "It was +while searching our office safe for trace of Rochester's present +address that Ferguson obtained possession of your sealed envelope." + +Helen plucked nervously at the ribbon on her gown. "Did the +detective open the envelope" she asked. + +"No." + +"Are you sure?" + +"Positive; the red seal was unbroken." + +"Tell us how the envelope came to be stolen from you," coaxed +Barbara. + +"We were in the little smoking porch off the dining room at the Club +de Vingt." Barbara smiled her remembrance of it, and motioned Kent +to continue. "Ferguson had just put down the envelope on the table +and I started to pick it up when cheering in the dining room +distracted my attention and I, with the others, went to see what it +was about. When I returned to the porch the envelope was no longer +on the table." + +"Who were with you?" questioned Helen. + +"Your father, Mrs. Brewster -" + +"Of course," murmured Barbara. "Go on, Harry." + +"Detective Ferguson and Ben Glymer," Barbara made a wry face, "and" +- went on Kent, not heeding her, "each of these persons deny any +further knowledge of the envelope, except they declare it was lying +on the table when we all made a dash for the dining room. + +"Who was the last to leave the porch?" asked Helen. + +"Ben Clymer." + +"And he saw no one take the envelope?" + +"He declares that he had his back to the table, part of the time, +but to the best of his knowledge no one took the envelope." + +"One of them must have," insisted Barbara. + +"The envelope hadn't legs or wings." + +"One of them did take it," agreed Kent. + +"But which one is the question. Frankly, to find the answer, I must +know the contents of the envelope, Helen." + +"Why?" + +"Because then I will have some idea who would be enough interested +in the envelope to steal it." + +Helen considered him long and thoughtfully. "I cannot answer your +question," she announced finally. She saw his face harden, and +hastened to explain. "Not through any lack of confidence in you, +Harry, b-b-but," she stumbled in her speech. "I - I do not know +what the envelope contains." + +Kent stared at her open-mouthed. "Then who requested you to lock +the envelope in Rochester's safe?" he demanded, and receiving no +reply, asked suddenly: "Was it Rochester?" + +"I am not at liberty to tell you," she responded; her mouth set in +obstinate lines and before he could press his request a second time, +she asked: "Philip Rochester defended Jimmie in court when every +one thought him a burglar; why then, should Philip have picked him +out to attack - he is not a homicidal maniac?" + +"No, but the police contend that Rochester recognized Jimmie in his +make-up and decided to kill him; hoping his death would be +attributed to angina pectoris, and no post-mortem held," wound up +Kent. + +"I don t quite understand" - Helen raised her handkerchief to her +forehead and removed a drop of moisture. "How did Philip kill +Jimmie there in court before us all?" + +"Ferguson believes that he put the dose of aconitine in the glass +of water which Jimmie asked for," explained Kent, and would have +continued his remarks, but a scream from Barbara startled him. + +"There, look at the window," she cried. "I saw a face peering in. +Look quick, Harry, look!" + +Kent needed no second bidding, but although he craned his head far +outside the open window and gazed both up and down the street and +along the path to the kitchen door, he failed to see any one. "Was +it a man or woman?" he asked, turning back to the room. + +"I - I couldn't tell; it was just a glimpse." Barbara stood resting +one hand on the table, her weight leaning upon it. Not for words +would she have had Kent know that her knees were shaking under her. + +"Did you see the face, Helen?" As he put the question Kent looked +around at the silent girl in the corner; she had slipped back in +her chair and, with closed eyes, lay white-lipped and limp. With +a leap Kent gained her side and his hand sought her pulse. + +"Ring for brandy and water," he directed as Barbara came to his aid. +"Helen has fainted." + +Twenty minutes later Kent hastened out of the McIntyre house and, +turning into Connecticut Avenue, boarded a street car headed south. +After carrying Helen to the twins' sitting room he had assisted +Barbara in reviving her. He had wondered at the time why Barbara +had not summoned the servants, then concluded that neither sister +wished a scene. That Helen was worse than she would admit he +appreciated, and advised Barbara to send for Dr. Stone. The +well-meant suggestion had apparently fallen on deaf ears, for no +physician had appeared during the time he was in the house, nor had +Barbara used the telephone, almost at her elbow as she sat by her +sister's couch, to summon Dr. Stone. Kent had only waited long +enough to convince himself that Helen was out of danger, and then +had departed. + +It was nearly one o'clock when he finally stepped inside his office, +and he found his clerk and a dressy female bending eagerly over a +newspaper. They looked up at his approach and Sylvester came +forward. + +"This is my wife, sir," he explained, and Kent bowed courteously to +Mrs. Sylvester. "We were just reading this account of Mr. Rochester's +disappearance; it's dreadful, sir, to think that the police believe +him guilty of Mr. Turn +bull's murder." + +"Dreadful, indeed," agreed Kent; the news had been published even +sooner than he had imagined. "What paper is that?" + +"The noon edition of the Times." Sylvester handed it to him. + +"Thanks," Kent flung down his hat and spread open the paper. "Who +have been here to-day?" + +"Colonel McIntyre, sir; he left a card for you." Sylvester hurried +into Kent's office, to return a moment later with a visiting card. +"He left this, sir, for you with most particular directions that it +be handed to you at once on your arrival." + +Kent read the curt message on the card without comment and tore the +paste-board into tiny bits. + +"Any one else been in this morning?" he asked. + +"Yes, sir." Sylvester consulted a written memorandum. "Mr. Black +called, also Colonel Thorne, Senator Harris, and Mrs. Brewster." + +"Mrs. Brewster!" The newspaper slipped from Kent's fingers in his +astonishment. "What did she want here?" + +"To see you, sir, so she said, but she first asked for Mr. +Rochester," explained Sylvester, stooping over to pick up the +inside sheet of the Times which had separated from the others. "I +told her that Mr. Rochester was unavoidably detained in Cleveland; +then she said she would consult you and I let her wait in your +office for the good part of an hour." + +Kent thought a moment then walked toward his door; on its threshold +he paused, struck by a sudden idea. + +"Did Colonel McIntyre come with Mrs. Brewster?" he asked. + +"No, Mr. Kent; he came in while she was here." + +"And they went off together," volunteered Mrs. Sylvester, who had +been a silent listener to their conversation. Kent started; he had +forgotten the woman. "Excuse me, Mr. Kent," she continued, and +stepped toward him. "I presume, likely, that you are very interested +in this charge of murder against your partner, Mr. Rochester." + +"I am," affirmed Kent, as Mrs. Sylvester paused. + +"I am too, sir," she confided to him. "Cause you see I was in the +court room when Mr. Turnbull died and I'm naturally interested." + +"Naturally," agreed Kent with a commiserating glance at his clerk; +the latter's wife threatened to be loquacious, and he judged from +her looks that it was a habit which had grown with the years. As a +general rule he abhorred talkative women, but - "And what took you +to the police court on Tuesday morning?" + +"Why, me and Mr. Sylvester have our little differences like other +married couples," she explained. "And sometimes we ask the Court +to settle them." She caught Kent's look of impatience and hurried +her speech. "The burglar case came on just after ours was remanded, +and seeing the McIntyre twins, whom I've often read about, I just +thought I'd stay. Let me have that paper a minute." + +"Certainly," Kent gave her the newspaper and she ran her finger down +the columns devoted to the Turnbull case with a slowness that set his +already excited nerves on edge. + +"Here's what I'm looking for," she exclaimed triumphantly, a minute +later, and pointed to the paragraph: + + "Mrs. Margaret Perry Brewster, the fascinating widow, added + nothing material to the case in her testimony, and she was + quickly excused, after stating that she was told about the + tragedy by the McIntyre twins upon their return from the + Police Court." + +"Well what of it?" asked Kent. + +"Only this, Mr. Kent;" Mrs. Sylvester enjoyed nothing so much as +talking to a good looking man, especially in the presence of her +husband, and she could not refrain from a triumphant look at him +as she went on with her remarks. "There was a female sitting on +the bench next to me in Court; in fact, she and I were the only +women on that side, and I kinder noticed her on that account, and +then I saw she was all done up in veils - I couldn't see her face. + +"I caught her peering this way and that during the burglar's +hearing; I don't reckon she could see well through all the veils. +Now, don't get impatient, Mr. Kent; I'm getting to my point - that +woman sitting next to me in the police court was the widow Brewster." + +"What!" Kent laughed unbelievingly. "Oh, come, you are mistaken." + +"I am not, sir." Mrs. Sylvester spoke with conviction. "Now, why +does Mrs. Brewster declare at the coroner's inquest that she only +heard of the Turnbull tragedy from the McIntyre twins on their +return home?" + +"You must be mistaken," argued Kent. + +"Why, you admit yourself that the woman was so swathed in veils +that you could not see her face." + +"No, but I heard her laugh in court," Mrs. Sylvester spoke in deep +earnestness and Kent placed faith in her statement in spite of his +outward skepticism. "And I heard her laugh in this corridor this +morning and I placed her as the same woman. I asked Mr. Sylvester +who she was, and he told me. I'd been reading this account of the +Turnbull inquest, and I recollected seeing Mrs. Brewster's name, +and my husband and I were just reading the account over when you +came in." + +Kent gazed in perplexity at Mrs. Sylvester. "Why did Mrs. Brewster +laugh in the police court?" he asked. + +"When Dr. Stone exclaimed to the deputy marshal - 'Your prisoner +appears ill!'" declared Mrs. Sylvester; she enjoyed the dramatic, +and that Kent was hanging on her words she was fully aware, in +spite of his expressionless face. "Dr. Stone lifted the burglar +in his arms and then Mrs. Brewster laughed as she laughed in +the corridor to-day - a soft gurgling laugh." + + +CHAPTER XIV + +PAY CASH + +It was the rush hour at the Metropolis Trust Company and the busy +paying teller counted out silver and gold and treasury notes of +varying denominations with the mechanical precision and exactness +which experience gives. Suddenly his hand stopped midway toward +the money drawer, his attention arrested by the signature on a check. +A swift glance upward showed him a girl's face at the grille of the +window. There was an instant's pause, then she addressed him. + +"Do hurry, Mr. McDonald; father is waiting for me." + +"Pardon me, Miss McIntyre." He stamped the check and laid it to +one side. "how do you want the money?" + +"Oh, I forgot." She glanced at a memorandum on the back of an +envelope. "Mrs. Brewster wishes ten tens, five twenties, and +ten ones. + +Thank you, good afternoon," and counting over the money she thrust +it inside her bag and hurried away. + +She had been gone a bare five minutes when Kent reached the window +and pushed several checks toward the teller. + +"Is Mr. Clymer in his office, McDonald?" he asked, placing the bank +notes given, him in his wallet. + +"I'm not sure." The teller glanced around at the clock; the hands +stood at ten minutes of three. "It's pretty near closing time, Kent; +still, he may be there." + +"I'll go and see," and with a nod of farewell Kent turned on his +heel and walked off in the direction of the office of the bank +president. On reaching there he saw, through the glass partition +of the door, Clymer seated in earnest conclave with two men. + +Happening to glance up Clymer recognized Kent and beckoned to him +to come inside. "You know Taylor," he said by way of introduction. +"And this is Mr. Harding of New York - Mr. Kent," he turned around +in his swivel chair to face the three men. "Draw up a chair, Kent; +we were just going over to see you. + +"Yes?" Kent looked inquiringly at the bank president, the gravity +of his manner betokened serious tidings. " What is it, Mr. Clymer?" + +Clymer did not reply at once. "It's this," he said finally, with +blunt directness. "Your partner, Philip Rochester, appears to be +a bankrupt. Harding and Taylor came in here to attach his private +bank account to cover indebtedness to their business firms." + +An exclamation broke from Kent. "Impossible!" he gasped. + +"I would have said the same this morning," declared Clymer. "But +on investigation I find that Rochester has over-drawn his account +here for a large amount and borrowed heavily. The further I look +into his financial affairs the more involved I find them." + +"But" - Kent was white-lipped. "I know for an absolute fact that +Rochester was paid some exceedingly large fees last week, totaling +over fifty thousand dollars." + +"He has never deposited such a sum, or anywhere like that amount in +this bank either last week or this," stated Clymer, running his eyes +down a bank statement which, with several pass books, lay on his +desk. + +"Does he carry accounts at other banks?" inquired Harding. + +"Not that I can discover," responded Taylor. "I have been to every +national and private banking house in Washington, but all deny having +him as a depositor. Did Rochester ever bank out of town, Kent?" + +"Not to my knowledge." Kent drew out a bank book. "Here is the +firm's balance, Mr. Clymer; we bank here, you know." + +"Yes." Clymer's look of anxiety deepened. + +"Did you see McDonald as you came in?" + +"Yes, he cashed some checks for me." + +"Your personal checks?" + +"Yes." Kent looked questioningly at Clymer. What do you mean?" + +"Only this; that all moneys deposited here in the firm name of +Rochester and Kent have been drawn out." + +"That's not possible!" Kent started up. + +"Checks on that account must bear both Rochester's signature and +mine." + +"Checks bearing both signatures have been presented for the total +sum deposited to your credit," stated Clymer and he picked up four +canceled checks. "See for yourself." + +Kent stared at the checks in dumbfounded silence; then carrying +them to the light he examined them with minute care before bringing +them back to the bank president. + +"This is the first I have heard of these transactions," he said. + +"You mean -" + +"That the signatures are clever forgeries." His statement was heard +with gravity. Taylor exchanged a meaning look with the New Yorker. + +"You mean your signature is a forgery," he suggested. "Rochester +had a peculiar gift of penmanship." + +Kent sprang up. "Do you accuse Philip Rochester of signing these +checks and inserting my name to them?" + +"I do," calmly. "I am not familiar with your signature, Kent, but +that Rochester wrote the body of those four checks and put his own +signature at the bottom I will swear to in any court of law. To +make them valid he had to add your name." + +"But, d-mn it, man!" Kent stared in bewilderment at his three +companions. "Rochester was honorable and straight-forward -" + +"And addicted to drink," put in Harding. "But not a forger," +retorted Kent firmly. Harding's only rejoinder was a skeptical +smile as he turned to address Clymer. + +"So Rochester not only has taken his own money, but withdrawn that +belonging to the firm of Rochester and Kent without the knowledge +of his junior partner; it looks black, Mr. Clymer," he remarked. +"Especially when taken in consideration with his other involved +financial transactions." + +"Where will we find Rochester, Kent?" asked Taylor, before the +bank president could answer the New Yorker. + +Kent paused in indecision. What reply could he make without +further involving Rochester in trouble? He had not the faintest +idea where Rochester was, but to state that he was missing +could not but add to the belief that he had made away with all +the money he could lay his hands on. The noon edition of the +Times had hinted at Rochester's disappearance but had stated they +could not get the statement confirmed from Police Headquarters; +obviously Harding and Taylor had not seen the newspaper. + +Was it just to the men before him to keep them in the dark? If +their claims were true, and Kent never doubted that they were, they +had already lost money through Rochester's extraordinary behavior. +Kent turned sick at the thought of his own loss - his savings swept +away. Would Barbara wait for him - was it fair to ask her? + +Taylor broke the prolonged silence. + +"I met Detective Ferguson on my way here," he stated. "He told me +that the police were looking for Rochester." + +"What?" Harding looked up, startled. "Why didn't you inform me of +that?" + +"Well, I thought we'd better hear from Mr. Clymer the true state of +Rochester's finances," responded Taylor. "I never anticipated such +facts as he has given us." + +"But if you knew the police were after Rochester -" objected Harding. + +Clymer broke into the conversation; there was a heavy frown on his +usually placid countenance. "I judged from Detective Ferguson's +confidences to us, Kent, at the Club de Vingt that he was wanted by +the police in connection with the Turnbull tragedy, but the facts +brought out through Harding's action to attach Rochester's bank +account, puts a different construction on Rochester's disappearance." + +"What had Rochester to do with Jimmie Turnbull?" questioned Harding, +before Kent could answer Clymer. + +"They lived together," he replied shortly. + +"And one dies and the other disappears," Harding whistled dolefully. +"Wasn't Mr. Turnbull an official of this bank, Mr. Clymer?" + +"Yes, our cashier." + +"Were his affairs involved?" + +"Not in the least," Clymer spoke with emphasis. "A most honorable +fellow, Jimmie Turnbull; his murder was a shocking affair." + +"Have the police found any motive for the crime, Kent?" asked Taylor. + +"I believe not." + +Harding, who had been ruminating in silence, leaned forward, his +expression alight with a sudden idea. + +"Could it be that Turnbull found out that Rochester was passing +forged checks, and Rochester insured his silence by Poisoning him?" +he asked. + +Clymer and Kent exchanged glances, as Kent's thoughts reverted to +the forged letter presented by Turnbull to the bank's treasurer, +whereby he had been given McIntyre's valuable negotiable securities. +Could it be that Rochester had written the letter, given it to his +room-mate, Turnbull, and the latter, thinking it genuine, had secured +the McIntyre securities and handed them over to Rochester? The idea +took Kent's breath away; and yet, the more he contemplated it, the +more feasible it appeared. + +"What's the date on those checks?" demanded Kent. + +"Tuesday of this week - the day Jimmie Turnbull died." Clymer +turned them over. "They are drawn payable to cash, and bear no +endorsement, which shows Rochester must have presented them himself." + +Harding and Taylor glanced significantly at each other, but neither +spoke. Suddenly Kent pushed back his chair and rose without +ceremony. + +"Don't go, Kent." Clymer took up some papers. "There's a matter -" + +"It will keep." Kent's mouth was set and determined. "I give you +my word of honor that all Rochester's honest debts will be paid by +the firm if necessary; I will obligate myself to that extent," he +paused. "As for you fellows," turning to Harding and Taylor who +had also risen. "Give me twenty-four hours -" + +"What for?" they chorused. + +"To 1ocate Philip Rochester," and waiting for no answer Kent bolted +out of the office. + + +CHAPTER XV + +WHEN THE LIGHT FAILED + +The city lights were springing up block T after block along +Pennsylvania Avenue as Detective Ferguson left that busy thoroughfare +and hurried to the Saratoga. He stepped inside the lobby of the +apartment house a full minute before his appointment with its +manager, and went at once to look him up. Before he could carry out +his purpose he was joined by Harry Kent. + +"Finley had to go out," the latter explained. + +"I told him I would go up to Rochester's apartment with you." + +Ferguson thoughtfully caressed his clean-shaven jaw for a second, +then came to a rapid decision. + +"Lead the way, sir," he said. "I'll follow." Kent found him a +silent companion while in the elevator and when walking down the +corridor to Rochester's apartment, but once inside the living room, +with the outer door tightly closed, Ferguson tossed down his hat +and his whole demeanor changed. + +"Sit down, Mr. Kent." He selected a chair near Rochester's desk +for himself, as Kent found another. "Let's thrash this thing out; +are you working with me or against me?" + +"Why do you ask?" Kent's surprise at the question was evident. + +"Because every time I arrange to examine this apartment or inquire +into Rochester's whereabouts you show up." Ferguson's small eyes +were trying to out-stare Kent, but the latter's clear gaze did not +drop before his. "Are you aiding Philip Rochester in his efforts +to elude arrest?" + +"I am not," declared Kent emphatically. "What prompts the question?" + +"The fact that you are Rochester's partner," Ferguson pointed out; +his manner was still stiff. "It would be only natural for you to +help him disappear out of friendship, or" - with a sidelong glance + - "from a desire to hush up a scandal." + +"On the contrary I want Rochester found and every bit of evidence +against him sifted out and aired," retorted Kent. "Two heads are +better than one, Ferguson; let us work together. Rochester must be +located within the next twenty-four hours." + +Ferguson debated a moment, but Kent's speech as well as his manner +indicated his sincerity, and the detective shook off his suspicions. +"Have you had any further news of your partner?" he asked. + +"No; that is" - recalling the scene in the bank early that afternoon +-" nothing that relates to Rochester's present whereabouts. Now, +Ferguson, to put your charges against Rochester in concrete form, you +believe that he was insanely jealous of Jimmie Turnbull, that he +recognized him in the Police Court in his burglar disguise, slipped +a dose of aconitine in a glass of water which Turnbull drank, and +after declaring that his friend had died from angina pectoris, +disappeared. Is that all the case you have against him?" + +"At present, yes," admitted the detective cautiously. + +"All circumstantial evidence -" + +"But it will hold in court -" + +"Ah, will it?" questioned Kent. "There's one big flaw in your case, +Ferguson; the poison used to kill Turnbull." + +"Aconitine?" + +"Exactly. Your theory is that Rochester slipped the poison in the +glass of water on recognizing Turnbull in the police court; now, it +is stretching probability to suppose that Rochester, a strong +healthy man, was carrying that drug around in his vest pocket." + +Ferguson sat forward in his chair, his eyes glittering. "Do you +mean to say that you think the murder of Turnbull was premeditated +and not committed on the spur of the moment?" he asked. + +"The fact that aconitine was used convinces me of that," answered +Kent. + +Ferguson thought a moment. "If that is the case," he said, +grudgingly, "it sort of squashes the charge against Philip +Rochester." + +"It would seem to," agreed Kent. "But every shred of evidence I +find points to Rochester as the guilty man." + +Ferguson edged his chair forward. "What have you discovered?" he +demanded eagerly. + +"This," Kent spoke with increased earnestness. "That Philip +Rochester is apparently a bankrupt, that he has over-drawn his +private account at the Metropolis Trust Company, and withdrawn our +partnership funds from the same bank." + +"Your partnership funds!" echoed the detective, eyeing Kent sharply. +"How did you come to let him do that?" + +"I was not aware that he had done so until Mr. Clymer told me of +the transaction this afternoon," answered Kent. + +"You did not know" - Ferguson looked at him in dawning comprehension. +"You mean Rochester absconded with the funds?" + +"Some one forged my name to checks drawn on the firm's account," +Kent continued. "I understood they were made payable to cash and +presented by Rochester on the day of Turnbull's death." + +Ferguson whistled as a slight vent to his feelings. "So you suspect +Rochester of being a forger?" Kent made no reply, and he added; +after a moment's deliberation, "What bearing has this discovery on +Turnbull's death, aside from Rochester's need of funds to make a +clean disappearance?" + +"If it is true that Rochester was financially embarrassed and forged +checks on the Metropolis Trust Company, it establishes another motive +for the killing of Turnbull," argued Kent. "Turnbull was cashier of +that bank." + +"I see; he may have discovered the forgeries - but hold on." +Ferguson checked his rapid speech. "When were these forged checks +presented at the bank?" + +"Tuesday afternoon." + +Ferguson's face fell. "Pshaw! man; that was after Turnbull's death +- how could he detect the forgeries?" + +Kent did not reply at once; instead, he glanced keenly about the +living room. The detective had only switched on one of the reading +lamps and the greater part was in shadow. It was a pleasant and +home-like room, and Kent was conscious of a keener pang for the loss +of Jimmie Turnbull and the disappearance of Philip Rochester, as he +gazed around. The lawyer and the bank cashier had been, until that +winter, congenial comrades, sharing their business success and their +apartment in complete accord; and now a shadow as black as that +enveloping the unlighted apartment hung over their good names, +threatening one or the other with the charge of forgery and of +murder. Kent sighed and turned back to the silent detective. + +"I can best answer your question by telling you that the day after +Jimmie Turnbull died Mr. Clymer sent for me," he began. "I found +Colonel McIntyre with him and was told that the Colonel had lost +valuable securities left at the bank. These securities had been +given by the treasurer of the bank to Jimmie Turnbull when he +presented a letter from Colonel McIntyre instructing the bank to +surrender the securities to Jimmie." + +"Well?" questioned Ferguson. "Go on, sir." + +"That letter was a forgery." Kent sat back and watched the +detective's rapidly changing expression. "And no trace has been +found of the Colonel's securities, last known to be in the +possession of Turnbull." + +"Great heavens!" ejaculated Ferguson. + +"Which was the forger - Turnbull or Rochester?" + +Kent shook a puzzled head. "That is for us to discover," he said +soberly. "Colonel McIntyre contends that Turnbull forged the letter +and stole the securities, then fearing his guilt would become known, +committed still another crime - that of suicide, he could have +swallowed a dose of aconitine while at the police court." + +"Well, I'll be - blessed!" ejaculated Ferguson. "But if he was the +forger how does that square with Rochester's peculiar behavior? +The checks bearing your forged signatures were presented, mind you, +by Rochester after Turnbull's death?" + +"It doesn't square," acknowledged Kent frankly. "There is this to +be said for Turnbull: he was the soul of honor, his affairs were +found to be in excellent condition, he was drawing a good salary, +his investments paying well - he did not need to acquire securities +or money by resorting to forgery." + +"Whereas Philip Rochester was on the point of bankruptcy," remarked +Ferguson. "Do you suppose he forged Colonel McIntyre's letter and +gave it to Turnbull, and the latter got the securities from the bank +treasurer and handed them over to Rochester in good faith, supposing +his room-mate would give the papers to Colonel McIntyre?" + +Kent nodded in agreement. "It looks that way to me," he said +gloomily. "Philip Rochester stood well in the community, his law +practice is large and lucrative, and if it had not been for his +periods of idleness and - and" - hesitating - "passion for good +living, he would never have run into debt." + +"But he got there." Ferguson's laugh was contemptuous. "A +desperate man will do anything, Mr. Kent." + +"I know," Kent looked dubious. "I would believe him guilty if it +were not for the use of aconitine - that shows premeditation on the +part of the murderer." + +"And why shouldn't Rochester plan Turnbull's murder ahead of the +scene in the police court?" argued Ferguson. "Wasn't he living in +deadly fear of exposure? If he did not commit the murder, why did +he run away? And if he is innocent, why doesn't he come forward and +prove it?" + +"He may not know that he is suspected of the crime," retorted Kent, +rising. "It is for us to find Rochester, and I suggest that we +search this apartment thoroughly." + +"I have already done so," objected Ferguson. "And there wasn't the +faintest clew to his hiding place." + +"For all that I am not satisfied." Kent walked over and switched +on another light. "When I came here on Wednesday night I had a +tussle with some man, but he escaped in the dark without my seeing +him. I believe he was Rochester." + +"You are probably right." Ferguson crossed the room. "And if he +came back once, he may return again. Come ahead," and he plunged +into the first bedroom. The two men subjected each room to an +exhaustive search, but their labors were their only reward; except +for an accumulation of dust, the apartment was undisturbed. They +had reached the kitchenette-pantry when the gong over their heads +sounded loudly, and Kent, with a muttered exclamation hastened +toward the front door of the apartment. Ferguson, intent on +studying the "L" of the building as seen from the window, was +hardly conscious of his departure, and some seconds elapsed before +he turned toward the door. As he gained it, he saw a dark shape +dart down the hall. With a bound Ferguson started in pursuit, and +the next second grappled with the flying man just as the electric +lights went out and they were plunged in darkness. + +Suddenly Kent's voice echoed down the hall. "Come here quick, +Ferguson!" + +There was a note of urgency about his appeal, and Ferguson straining +his muscles until the blood pounded in his temples, threw the +struggling man into a tufted arm-chair which stood by the entrance +to the small dining room, and drawing out his handcuffs, slipped +them on securely. "Stay there," Ferguson admonished his prisoner. +"Or there will be worse coming to you," and he thrust the muzzle of +his revolver against the man's heaving chest to illustrate his +meaning; then as Kent called again, he sped down the hall and +brought up breathless at the front door. The light was still +burning in the corridor, though not very brightly, and he saw Kent +hand the grinning messenger boy a shiny quarter. Touching his +battered cap the boy went whistling away. "Tell the elevator boy +to report that a fuse has burned out in Mr. Rochester's apartment," +Ferguson called after him, and the lad waved his hand as he dashed +into the elevator. + +Paying no attention to the detective's call, Kent showed him a +white envelope which bore the simple address: + + PHILIP ROCHESTER, ESQ. + THE SARATOGA + +"It's the identical envelope I found in your safe," declared +Ferguson. + +"And which disappeared last night at the Club de Vingt." Kent +turned over the envelope. "See, the red seal." + +For a minute the men contemplated the seal with the large +distinctive letter "B" in the center. + +"Open the letter, sir," Ferguson urged and Kent, his fingers fairly +trembling, jerked and tore at the linen incased envelope; the flap +ripped away and he opened the envelope - it was empty. + +Instinctively the two men glanced down at the parquetry flooring; +nothing but a thin coating of dust lay there, and Kent looked up +and down the corridor; it was deserted. + +"Do you recognize the handwriting?" asked Ferguson. + +"No." Kent regarded the envelope in bewilderment. "What shall we +do?" + +"Do? Call up the Dime Messenger Service and see where the envelope +came from; but first come and see my prisoner. + +"Your prisoner?" in profound astonishment. + +"Yes. I caught him chasing up the hall after you," explained +Ferguson as they hurriedly retraced their steps. "I put handcuffs +on him and then went to you. Ah, here's the light!" + +"The light, yes; but where's your prisoner?" and Kent, who was a +trifle in advance of his companion in reaching the dining room, +stood aside to let Ferguson pass him. + +The detective halted abruptly. The chair into which he had thrust +his prisoner was vacant. The man had disappeared. + +With one accord Ferguson and Kent advanced close to the chair, and +an oath broke from. the detective. On the cushion of the chair, +still bearing the impress of a human body, lay a pair of shining +new handcuffs. + +Dazedly Ferguson stooped over and examined them. They were still +securely locked. Wheeling around Kent dashed through the door to +his right and Ferguson, collecting his wits, searched the rest of +the apartment with minute care. Five minutes later he came face +to face with Kent in the living room. "Not a trace of any kind," +declared Kent. "It's the same as the other night; the man's gone. +It's - it's positively uncanny." + +Ferguson's face was red from mortification and his exertions +combined. + +"The fellow must have slipped from the room by that other door and +out through the living room as we came down the hail," he said. +"Did you shut the door of the apartment, Mr. Kent, before coming +down here to look at the prisoner?" + +"Yes." Kent led the way back to the dining room. "Did you +recognize the man, Ferguson?" + +"No." The detective swore softly as he stared about the room. +"The lights went out just as I tackled him." + +"It was beastly luck that the fuse burned out at that second," +groaned Kent. "Fortune was with him in that; but how did the man +get free of the handcuffs?" pointing to them still lying in the +chair. "We can't attribute that to luck, unless" - staring keenly +at Ferguson -" unless you did not snap them on the man's wrists, +after all." + +"I did; I swear it," declared Ferguson. "I'm no novice at that +business. Here, don't touch them, Mr. Kent," as his companion bent +toward the chair. "There may be finger marks on the steel; if so" +- he drew out his handkerchief, and taking care not to handle the +burnished metal, he folded the handcuffs carefully in it and put +them in his coat pocket. "There's no use lingering here, Mr. Kent; +this apartment is vacant now except for us. I must get to +Headquarters." + +"Hadn't you better telephone for an operative and station him here?" +suggested Kent. + +"I did so while you were searching the back rooms," replied Ferguson. +"There," as the gong sounded. "That's Nelson, now." + +But the person who stood in the outer corridor when they opened the +front door was not Nelson, the operative, but Dr. Stone. + +"Can I see Mr. Rochester?" he asked, then catching sight of Kent +standing just back of the detective, he added, "Hello, Kent; I +thought I heard some one walking about in here from my apartment +next door, and concluded Rochester had returned. Can I see him?" + +"N-no," Kent spoke slowly, with a side-glance at the silent +detective. "Rochester has been here - and left." + + +CHAPTER XVI + +THE CRIMSON OUTLINE + +Barbara McIntyre made the round of the library for the fifth time, +testing each of the seven doors opening into it to see that they +ere closed behind their portieres, then she turned back to her +sister, who sat cross-logged before a small safe. + +"Any luck?" she asked + +Instead of replying Helen removed the key from the lock of the +steel door and regarded it attentively. The safe was of an obsolete +pattern and in place of the customary combination lock, was opened +by means of a key, unique in appearance. + +"It is certainly the key which father mislaid six months ago," she +declared. "Grimes found it just after father had a new key made +and gave it to me. And yet I can't get the door open." + +"Let me try." Barbara crouched down by her sister and inserted the +key again in the lock, but her efforts met with no results, and +after five minutes' steady manipulation she gave up the attempt. +"I am afraid it is impossible," she admitted. "Seems to me I have +heard that the lost key will not open a safe after a new key has +been supplied." + +Helen rose slowly to her feet, stretching her cramped limbs +carefully as she did so, and sank down in the nearest chair. Her +attitude indicated dejection. + +"Then we can't find the envelope," she muttered. "Hurry, Babs, and +close the outer door; father may return at any moment." + +Barbara obeyed the injunction with such alacrity that the door, +concealing the space in the wall where stood the safe, flew to with +a bang and the twins jumped nervously. + +"Take care!" exclaimed Helen sharply. "Do you wish to arouse the +household?" + +"No danger of that." But Barbara glanced apprehensively about the +library in spite of her reassuring statement. "The servants are +either out or upstairs, and Margaret Brewster is writing letters +in our sitting room." + +"Hadn't you better go upstairs and join her?" Helen suggested. "Do, +Babs," as her sister hesitated. "I cannot feel sure that she will +not interrupt us." + +"But my joining her won't keep Margaret upstairs," objected Barbara. + +"No, but you can call and warn me if she is on her way down, and +that will give me time to - to straighten father's papers," going +over to a large carved table littered with magazines, letters, +and silver ornaments. Her sister did not move, and she glanced at +her with an irritated air, very foreign to her customary manner. +"Go, Barbara." + +The curt command brought a stare from Barbara, but it did not +accelerate her halting footsteps; instead she moved with even +greater slowness toward the hall door; her active brain tormented +with an unspoken and unanswered question. Why was Helen so anxious +for her departure? She had accepted her offer of assistance in her +search of the library with such marked reluctance that Barbara had +marveled at the time, and now... + +"Are you quite sure, Helen, that father had the envelope in his +pocket this morning?" she asked for the third time since the search +began. + +"He had an envelope - I caught a glimpse of the red seal," answered +Helen. "Then, just before dinner he was putting some papers in the +safe. Oh, if Grimes had only come in a moment sooner to announce +dinner, I might have had a chance to look in the safe before father +closed the door." + +Whatever reply Barbara intended making was checked by the rattling +of the knob of the hall door; it turned slowly, the door opened and, +pushing aside the portieres drawn across the entrance, Margaret +Brewster glided in. "So glad to find you," she cooed. "But why +have you closed up the room and turned on all the lights?" + +"To see better," retorted Barbara promptly as the widow's eyes roved +around the large room, taking silent note of the drawn curtains and +portieres, and the somewhat disarranged furniture. "Come inside, +Margaret, and help us in our search." + +"For what?" The widow tried to keep her tone natural, but a certain +shrill alertness crept into it and Barbara, who was watching her +closely, was quick to detect the change. Helen's color altered at +the question, and she observed the widow's entrance with veiled +hostility. + +"For my seal," Barbara answered. "The one with the big letter 'B.' +Have you seen it?" + +"I? - No." The widow took a chair uninvited near Helen. "You look +tired, Helen dear; why don't you go to bed?" + +"I could not sleep if I did." Helen passed a nervous finger across +her eyes. "But don't let me keep you and Babs up; it won't take me +long to arrange to-morrow's market order for Grimes." + +Under pretense of searching for pencil and paper Helen contrived to +see the address of every letter lying on the table, but the envelope +she sought, with its red seal, was not among them. When she looked +up again, pencil and paper in hand, she found Mrs. Brewster leaning +lazily back and regarding her from under half-closed lids. "You are +very like your father, Helen," she commented softly. + +The girl stiffened. "Am I? Babs and I are generally thought to +resemble our mother." + +"In appearance, yes; but I mean mannerisms - for instance, the way +of holding your pencil, your handwriting, even, closely resembles +your father's." Mrs. Brewster pointed to the notes Helen was +scribbling on the paper and to an open letter bearing Colonel +McIntyre's signature at the bottom of the sheet lying beside the +pad to illustrate her meaning. "These are almost identical." + +"You are a close observer." Helen completed her memorandum and +laid it aside. "What became of father?" + +"He went to a stag supper at the Willard," chimed in Barbara, +stopping her aimless walk about the library. "He said we were not +to wait up for him." + +Helen pushed back her chair and rose with some abruptness. + +"I am more tired than I realized," she remarked and involuntarily +stretched her weary muscles. "Come, Margaret," laying a persuasive +hand on the widow's shoulder. "Be a trump and rub my forehead with +cologne as you used to do abroad when I had a headache. It always +put me to sleep then; and, oh, how I long for sleep now!" + +There was infinite pathos in her voice and Mrs. Brewster sprang up +and threw her arm about her in ready sympathy. + +"You poor darling!" she exclaimed. "Let me put you to bed; Mammy +taught me the art of soothing frayed nerves. Come with us, Babs," +holding out her left hand to Barbara. But the latter, with a +dexterous twist, slipped away from her touch. + +"I must stay and straighten the library," she announced. + +Mrs. Brewster's delicate color had deepened. "It would be as well +to open some of the doors," she agreed coldly. "The library looks +odd, not to say funereal," she glanced down the spacious room and +shivered ever so slightly. "Do, Babs, put out some of the lights; +they are blinding." + +"Oh, I'll turn them all out "- Barbara sought the electric switch. + +"But your father -" + +"No need to worry about father; he can find his way about in the +dark like a cat," responded Barbara with unabated cheerfulness. +"Seems to me, Margaret, you and father are getting mighty chummy +these days." + +The sudden darkness into which Barbara's impatient fingers, pressing +against the electric light buttons, plunged the library and its +occupants, prevented her seeing the curious glance which Mrs. +Brewster shot at her. Helen, who had listened to their chatter with +growing impatience, looked back over her shoulder. + +"Hurry, Barbara, and come upstairs. Now, Margaret," and she piloted +the widow along the hall toward the staircase without giving her an +opportunity to answer Barbara's last remark. Barbara, pausing only +long enough to pull back the portieres of the hall door and arrange +them as they hung customarily, turned to go upstairs just as Grimes +came down the hall from the dining room carrying a large tray with +pitchers of ice water and glasses. + +"I thought you had gone to your room, Grimes," she remarked, as the +butler waited respectfully for her to pass him. + +"I've just come in, miss, and found Murray had left the tray in the +dining room," explained Grimes hurriedly. "I hope, miss, I'll not +disturb the ladies by knocking at their doors now with this ice +water." + +"Oh, no, Mrs. Brewster and Miss Helen have only just gone upstairs." +Barbara paused in front of the butler and poured out a glass of water. +"I can't wait, Grimes, I am too thirsty." + +"Certainly, miss, that's all right." Grimes craned his head around +and looked up and down the hail, then leaning over he placed the tray +on a convenient table and stepped close to Barbara. + +"I've been reading the newspapers very carefully, miss," he began, +taking care to keep his voice lowered. "Especially that part of Mr. +Turnbull's inquest which tells about the post-mortem." + +"Well, what then?" asked Barbara quickly as the butler paused and +again glanced up and down the hall. + +"Just this, miss," he spoke almost in a whisper. "The doctors do +say poor Mr. Turnbull was poisoned by acca - aconitine," stumbling +over the word. "It's a curious thing, miss, that I brought some of +that very drug into this house last Sunday." + +"You did!" Barbara's fresh young voice rose in astonishment. + +"Hush, miss!" The butler raised both hands. "Hush!" He glanced +cautiously around, then continued. "Colonel McIntyre sent me to +the druggist with a prescription from Dr. Stone for Mrs. Brewster +when she had romantic neuralgia." + +"Had what?" Barbara looked puzzled, then giggled, but her mirth +quickly altered to seriousness at sight of the butler's expression. +"Mrs. Brewster had a touch of rheumatic neuralgia the first of the +month; do you refer to that?" + +"Yes, miss." Grimes spoke more rapidly, but kept his voice lowered. +"The druggist told me what the pills were when I exclaimed at their +size - regular little pellets, no bigger than that," he demonstrated +the size with the tip of his little finger, and would have added +more but the gong over the front door rang out with such suddenness +that both he and Barbara started violently. + +"Just a moment, miss," and he hurried to the front bell, to return +after a brief colloquy with a messenger boy, bearing a letter. +"It's for Mrs. Brewster, miss," he explained, as Barbara held +out her hand. + +"I'll give it to her and this also," Barbara took the envelope and +a small ice pitcher and glass. "Good night, Grimes. Oh," she +stopped midway up the staircase and waited for the butler to +overtake her, "Grimes, to whom did you give the aconitine on Sunday?" + +"I didn't give it to nobody, miss." The butler was a trifle short +of breath; his years did not permit him to keep pace with the twins. +"I was in a great hurry as the druggist kept me waiting, and I had +to serve tea at once." + +"But what did you do with the aconitine pills?" demanded Barbara. + +"I left the box on the hail table, miss -" + +"Great heavens!" Barbara stared at the butler, then without a word +she raced up the staircase and disappeared through the open door of +Mrs. Brewster's bedroom. + +The light from the hall shone through the transom and doorway in +sufficient volume to clearly indicate the different pieces of +furniture, and Barbara put the pitcher and glass on the bed stand +and laid the letter which Grimes had given her on the dressing +table, then went slowly into her own bedroom. She could hear voices, +which she recognized as those of her sister and Mrs. Brewster, +coming from Helen's bedroom, but absorbed in her own thoughts she +undressed in the dark and crept into bed just as Mrs. Brewster +passed down the hallway and entered her own room. The widow had +taken off her evening gown and slippers and donned a becoming +wrapper before she discovered the letter lying on the dresser. +Drawing up a chair she dropped into it, let down her long dark hair, +and settled back in luxuriant comfort against the tufted upholstery +before she ran her well-manicured finger under the flap of the +envelope. A slip of paper fell into her lap as she took out the +contents of the envelope and she let it rest there while scanning +the closely typewritten lines on the Metropolis Trust Company +stationery. + +Dear Mrs. Brewster, she read. Our bank teller, Mr. McDonald, has +questioned the genuineness of the signature on the inclosed check. +An important business engagement prevents my calling to-night, but +please stop at the bank early to-morrow morning. + +I feel that you would prefer to have a personal investigation made +rather than have us place the matter in the hands of the police. + + Yours faithfully, + BENJAMIN A. CLYMER. + +The widow read the note a number of times, then bethinking herself, +she picked up the canceled check still lying in her lap, and turned +it over. Long and intently she studied the signature - the +peculiarly characteristic formation of the letter "B" caught and +held her attention. As the seconds ticked themselves into minutes +she sat immovable, her face as white as the hand on which she had +bowed her head. + +Across the hall Helen McIntyre tossed from one side to the other in +her soft bed; her restless longing to get up was growing stronger and +stronger. While Mrs. Brewster's deft fingers and the cooling cologne +had stopped the throbbing in her temples, they had brought only +temporary relief in their train and not the sleep which Helen craved. +She strained her ears to discover the time by the ticking of her +clock, but either it was between the half or quarters of an hour, +or it had stopped, for no chimes sounded. With a gasp of +exasperation, Helen flung back the bed clothes and sat up. Switching +on the light by the side of her bed she hunted for a book, but not +finding any, she contemplated for a short space of time a pair of +rubber-heeled shoes just showing themselves under the edge of a chair. +With sudden decision she left the bed and dressed rapidly. It was +not until she had put on her rubber-heeled shoes that she paused. +Her hesitation, however, was but brief. Stepping to the bureau, she +pulled out a lower drawer and running her hand inside, touched a +concealed spring. From the cavity thus exposed she took a small +automatic pistol, and with a stealthy glance about her, crept from +the room. + +The library had been vacant fully an hour when a mouse, intent on +making a raid on the candy which Barbara had carelessly left lying +loose on one of the tables, paused as a faint creaking sound broke +the stillness, then as the noise increased, the mouse scurried back +to its hole. The noise resembled the turning of rusty hinges and +the soft thud of one piece of wood striking another. There was a +strained silence, then, from out of the darkness appeared a tiny +stream of light directed full on a white envelope bearing a large +red seal. + +The next instant the envelope was plucked from the hand holding it, +and a figure lay crumpled on the floor from the blow of a descending +weapon. + +It was closely approaching one o'clock in the morning before Mrs. +Brewster stirred from her comfortable bedroom chair. Taking up her +electric torch, which she kept always by the side of her bed, she +walked quickly down the staircase and into the pitch dark library. +Directing her torch-light so that she steered a safe course among +the chairs and tables, she approached one of the pieces of carved +Venetian furniture and reached out her hand to touch a trap-door. +As she looked for the spring she was horrified to see a thin +stream of blood oozing through the carving until, reaching the +letter "B," it outlined that initial in sinister red. + +Scream after scream broke from Mrs. Brewster. She was swaying upon +her feet by the time Colonel McIntyre and his daughter Helen reached +the library. + +"Margaret! What is it?" McIntyre demanded. "Calm yourself, my +darling." + +The frenzied woman shook off his soothing hand. + +"See, see!" she cried and pointed with her torch. + +"She means the Venetian casket," explained Helen, who had paused +before joining them to switch on the light. + +Colonel McIntyre gazed in amazement at the piece of furniture; +then catching sight of the blood-stain, he raised the small +trap-door or peep hole, in the top of the oblong box which stood +breast high, supported on a beautifully carved base. + +There was a breathless pause; then McIntyre unceremoniously jerked +the electric torch from Mrs. Brewster's nervous fingers and turned +its rays of the interior of the casket. Stretched at full length +lay the figure of a man, and from a wound in his temple flowed a +steady stream of blood. + +"Good God!" McIntyre staggered back against Helen. "Grimes!" + + +CHAPTER XVII + +A QUESTION OF H0USE-BREAKING + +The genial president of the Metropolis Trust Company was late. +Mrs. Brewster, waiting in his well-appointed office, restrained her +ill-temper only by an exertion of will-power. She detested being +kept waiting, and that morning she had many errands to attend to +before the luncheon hour. + +"May I use your telephone?" she asked Mr. Clymer's secretary, and +the young man rose with alacrity from his desk. Mrs. Brewster never +knew what it was to lack attention, even her own sex were known on +occasions to give her gowns and, (what captious critics termed her +"frivolous conduct") undivided attention. + +"Can I look up the number for you?" the secretary asked as Mrs. +Brewster took up the telephone book and fumbled for the gold chain +of her lorgnette. + +"Oh, thank you," her smile showed each pretty dimple. "I wish to +speak to Mr. Kent, of the firm of Rochester and Kent." + +"Harry Kent?" The young secretary dropped the book without looking +at it, and gave a number to the operator, and then handed the +instrument to Mrs. Brewster. + +"Mr. Kent not in, did you say?" asked the widow. " Who is speaking? +Ah, Mr. Sylvester - has Mr. Rochester returned? - Both partners +away" . . . she paused . . . "I'll call later - Mrs. Brewster, +good morning." + +Mrs. Brewster hung up the receiver and turned to the secretary. + +"I don't believe I can wait any longer," she began, and paused, as +Benjamin Clymer appeared in the doorway. + +"So sorry to be late," he exclaimed, shaking her hand warmly. "And +I am sorry, also, to have called you here on such an errand." + +Mrs. Brewster waited until the young secretary had withdrawn out of +earshot before replying; then taking the chair Clymer placed for her +near his own, she opened her gold mesh bag and took out a canceled +check and laid it on the desk in front of the bank president. + +"Your bank honored this check?" she asked Yes." + +"Who presented it?" + +Clymer pressed the buzzer and his secretary came at once. + +"Ask Mr. McDonald to step here," and as the man vanished on his +errand, he addressed Mrs. Brewster. "How is Colonel McIntyre this +morning?" + +Mrs. Brewster's eyes opened at the question. "Quite well," she +replied, and prompted by her curiosity added: "What made you think +him ill?" + +"I stopped at Dr. Stone's office on the way down town, and his boy +told me the doctor had been sent for by Colonel McIntyre," Clymer +explained. "I hope neither of the twins is ill." + +"No. Colonel McIntyre sent for Dr. Stone to attend Grimes -" + +"The butler! Too bad he is ill; Grimes is an institution in the +McIntyre household." Clymer spoke with sincere regret, and Mrs. +Brewster eyed him approvingly; she liked good-looking men of his +stamp. "Come in, McDonald," as the bank teller appeared. "You +know Mrs. Brewster?" + +"Mr. McDonald was one of my first acquaintances in Washington," and +Mrs. Brewster smiled as she held out her hand. + +"About this check, McDonald," Clymer handed it to the teller as he +spoke. "Who presented it?" + +"Miss McIntyre." + +"Which Miss McIntyre?" Mrs. Brewster put the question with swift +intentness. + +"I can't tell one twin from the other," confessed McDonald. "But, +as you see, the check is made payable to Barbara McIntyre." + +"The inference being that Barbara McIntyre presented the check for +payment," commented Clymer, and McDonald bowed. "It would seem, +therefore, that Barbara wrote your signature on the check, Mrs. +Brewster." + +"No." The widow had whitened under her rouge, but her eyes did not +falter in their direct gaze. "The signature is genuine. I drew +the check." + +The two men exchanged glances. The bank president was the first to +break the short silence. "In that case there is nothing more to +be said," he remarked, and picking up the check handed it to Mrs. +Brewster. Without a glance at it, she folded the paper and placed +it inside her gold mesh bag. + +"I must not take up any more of your time," she said. "I thank +you - both." + +"Mrs. Brewster." Clymer spoke impulsively. "I'd like to shake hands +with you." + +Coloring warmly, the widow slipped her small hand inside his, and +with a friendly bow to McDonald, she walked through the bank, +keeping up with Clymer's long strides as best she could. As they +crossed the sidewalk to the waiting limousine they ran almost into +the arms of Harry Kent, whose rapid gait did not suit the congested +condition of the "Wall Street" of Washington. "I tried to reach +you on the telephone this morning," exclaimed Mrs. Brewster, after +greeting him. + +"So my clerk informed me when I saw him a few minutes ago." Kent +helped her inside the limousine. "Won't you come to my office now?" + +"But that will be taking you from Mr. Clymer," remonstrated Mrs. +Brewster. "Weren't you on the way to the bank?" + +"I was," admitted Kent. "But I can see Mr. Clymer later in the day." + +"And I'll be less occupied then," added Clymer. " Go with Mrs. +Brewster, Kent; good morning, madam," and with a courtly bow Clymer +withdrew. + +Kent's office was only around the corner, and as Mrs. Brewster +kept up a running fire of impersonal gossip, Kent had no +opportunity to satisfy his curiosity regarding her reasons for +wanting to interview him. As the limousine drew up at the curb in +front of his office, a man darting down the steps of the building, +caught sight of Kent and hurried to the car window. + +"I was just trying to catch you at the bank, Mr. Kent," he explained, +and looking around Kent recognized Sylvester. "There's been three +telephone calls for you in succession from Colonel McIntyre to +hurry to his home." + +"Thanks, Sylvester." Kent turned to Mrs. Brewster. "Would you mind +driving me to the McIntyre? We can talk on the way there." + +Mrs. Brewster picked up the speaking tube. "Home, , Harris," she +directed, as the chauffeur listened for the order. + +Neither spoke as the big car started up the street but as they +swung past old St. John's Church, Mrs. Brewster broke her silence. + +"Mr. Kent," she drew further back in her corner. "I claim a woman's +privilege - to change my mind. Forget that I ever expressed a wish +to consult you professionally, and remember, I am always glad to +meet you as a friend." + +"Certainly, Mrs. Brewster, as you wish." Kent's tone, expressing +polite acquiescence, covered mixed feelings. What had caused the +widow to change her mind so suddenly, and above all, what had she +wished to consult him about? He faced her more directly. She +was charmingly gowned, and in spite of his perplexities, he could +not but admire her air of quiet elegance and the soft dark eyes +regarding him in friendly good-fellowship. Suddenly realizing that +his glance had become a fixed stare, he hastily averted his eyes +from her face, catching sight, as he did so, of the gold mesh bag +lying in her lap. The glint of sunlight brought into prominence +the handsomely engraved letter "B" on its surface. An unexpected +swerve of the limousine, as the chauffeur turned short to avoid a +speeding army truck, caused both Kent and Mrs. Brewster to sway +forward and the gold mesh bag slid to the floor, carrying with it +the widow's handkerchief and gold vanity box. Kent stooped over +and picked up the articles as well as the contents of the mesh bag, +which had opened in its descent and spilled her money and papers +over the floor of the limousine. + +"Oh, thank you," exclaimed Mrs. Brewster, as he handed her the bag, +box, and bank notes. "Don't bother to look for that quarter; Harris +will find it at the garage." + +Kent ignored her remark as he again searched the floor of the car; +he was glad of the pretext to avoid looking at the widow. He wanted +time to collect his thoughts for, in Picking up her belongings, her +handkerchief had caught his attention - he had seen its mate in the +possession of Detective Ferguson, and clinging to it the broken +portions of the capsules of amyl nitrite which Jimmie Turnbull had +inhaled just before his mysterious death. + +Into Kent's mind flashed Mrs. Sylvester's statement that Mrs. +Brewster was in the police court at the time of the tragedy, +although in her testimony at the inquest she had sworn she had +not heard of Jimmie's death until the return of Helen and Barbara +McIntyre. She had been in the police court, and Jimmie had used +her handkerchief - a mate to the one she was then holding, the +letter "B" with its peculiar twist was unmistakable - and "B" +stood for Brewster as well as for Barbara! Kent drew in his breath +sharply. + +"My handkerchief, please," the widow held out her hand, and after +a moment's hesitation, Kent gave it to her. + +"Pardon me," he apologized. "I was struck by the handkerchief's +appearance." + +Mrs. Brewster turned it over. "In what way is the handkerchief +unique?" she asked, laughing. + +"Because Jimmie Turnbull crushed amyl nitrite capsules in its mate +just before he died," explained Kent quietly. "Detective Ferguson +claims that Jimmie unintentionally broke more than one capsule in +the handkerchief, was overcome by the powerful fumes and died." + +"But the inquest proved that Jimmie was killed by a dose of +aconitine poison," she reminded him, as she tucked the handkerchief +up her sleeve. + +Kent did not reply immediately. "A man does not usually carry a +woman's handkerchief about with him," he commented slowly. "Odd, +is it not, that Jimmie should have used a handkerchief of yours +in the police court just prior to his death, while you were sitting +a few feet away?" + +"I?" Mrs. Brewster turned and regarded him steadfastly. She was +deadly white under her rouge. "Mr. Kent, are you crazy?" + +"Yes, crazy to know why you kept your presence in the police court +on Tuesday morning a secret," replied Kent. In their earnestness +neither noticed Kent's absent-minded clutch on a small folded paper +which he had picked up from the floor of the limousine. "Mrs. +Brewster, why did you laugh when Dr. Stone carried Jimmie Turnbull +out of the court room?" + +Mrs. Brewster sat still in her corner of the car; so still that +Kent, observing her closely, feared that she had fainted. She had +dropped her eyes, and her face, set like marble, gave him no key +to her thoughts. + +The door of the limousine was jerked open almost before the car +came to a full stop in front of the McIntyre residence, and Colonel +McIntyre offered his hand to help Mrs. Brewster out. On the step +she turned to Kent, who had lifted his hat to McIntyre in silent +greeting. + +"Your forte lies as a romancer rather than a lawyer, Mr. Kent," she +said, and not giving him time for a reply, almost ran inside the +house. + +"Glad you could get here so soon, Kent," remarked McIntyre, signing +to his chauffeur to drive on before he led the way into the house. +"Grimes has worked himself almost into a fever asking for you." + +"Grimes?" + +"Yes. Grimes was attacked in our library early this morning by +some unknown person, and is in bed with a bad wound on his temple +and a tendency to hysteria," McIntyre explained. + +"Come upstairs." + +Kent handed his cane and hat to the footman and followed Colonel +McIntyre, who stalked ahead without another word. As they mounted +the stairs Kent glanced at the folded paper which he still held, +and was surprised to see that it was a check. The signature +showed him that he had unintentionally walked off with Mrs. +Brewster's property. His decision to hand it to Colonel McIntyre +was checked by the Colonel disappearing inside a bedroom, with a +muttered injunction to "wait there," and Kent stuffed the check +inside his vest pocket. It would serve as an excuse to interview +Mrs. Brewster again before leaving the house. He was determined +to have an answer to the question he had put to her in the +limousine. Why had she gone to the police court, and why kept her +presence there a secret? + +When Colonel McIntyre reappeared in the hall he was accompanied by +Detective Ferguson. "Sorry to keep you standing, Kent," he said. +"I have sent for you and Ferguson, first because Grimes insists on +seeing you, and second, because I am determined that this midnight +house-breaking shall be thoroughly investigated and put an end to. +This way," and he led them into a large airy bedroom on the third +floor, to which Grimes had been carried unconscious that morning, +instead of to his own bedroom in the servants' quarters. + +Grimes, with his head swathed in bandages, was a woe-begone object. +He greeted Colonel McIntyre and the detective with a sullen glare, +but his eyes brightened at sight of Kent, and he moved a feeble +hand in welcome. + +"Sit down, sirs," he mumbled. "There's chairs for all." + +"Don't worry about us," remarked McIntyre cheerily. "Just tell us +how you got that nasty knock on the head." + +"I dunno, sir; it came like a clap o' thunder," Grimes tried to +lift his head, but gave over the attempt as excruciating pain +followed the effort. + +"What hour of the morning was it?" asked Ferguson. + +"About one o'clock, as near as I can tell, sir." + +"And what were you doing in the library at that hour, Grimes?" +demanded McIntyre. + +"Trying to find out what your household was up to, sir," was Grimes' +unexpected answer, and McIntyre started. + +"Explain your meaning, Grimes," he commanded sternly. + +"You can do it better than I can, sir," retorted Grimes. "You know +the reason every one's searching the room with the seven doors." + +"The room with the seven doors!" echoed Ferguson. "Which is that?" + +"Grimes means the library." McIntyre's tone was short. "I have no +idea, Grimes, what your allegations mean. Be more explicit." + +The butler eyed him in no friendly fashion. "Wasn't Mr. Turnbull +arrested in that very room?" he demanded. "And what was he looking +for?" + +"Mr. Turnbull's presence has been explained," replied McIntyre. +"He came here disguised as a burglar on a wager with my daughter, +Miss Barbara." + +"Ah, did he now?" Grimes' rising inflection indicated nervous +tension. "Did a man with a bad heart come here in the dead of night +for nothing but that foolishness?" Grimes glared at his three +visitors. "You bet he didn't." + +Ferguson, who had followed the dialogue between McIntyre and his +servant with deep attention, addressed the excited man. + +"Why did Mr. Turnbull enter Colonel McIntyre's library on Monday +night disguised as a burglar?" he asked. + +Grimes, by a twist of his head, managed to regard the detective out +of the corner of his eye. + +"Aye, why did he?" he repeated. "That's what I went to the library +last night to find out." + +"Did you discover anything?" The question shot from McIntyre, and +both Ferguson and Kent watched him as they waited for Grimes' reply. +The butler took his time. + +"No, sir." + +McIntyre threw himself back in his chair and his eyebrows rose in +interrogation as he touched his forehead significantly and glanced +at Grimes. That the butler caught his meaning was evident from his +expression, but he said nothing. The detective was the first to +speak. + +"Did you hear any one break into the house when you were prowling +around, Grimes?" he asked. + +"No, sir." + +The detective turned to Colonel McIntyre. "After finding Grimes +did you search the house?" he inquired. + +"Yes. The patrolman, O'Ryan, and my new footman, Murray, went with +me through the entire house, and we found all doors and windows +to the front and rear of the house securely locked," responded +McIntyre; "except the window of the reception room on the ground +floor. That was closed but unlatched." + +Kent wondered if the grimace which twisted the butler's face was +meant for a smile. + +"That there window was locked when I went to bed," Grimes stated +with slow distinctness. "And I was the last person in this house +to go to my room." + +McIntyre started to speak when Ferguson stopped him. + +"Just let me handle this case," he said persuasively. "You have +called in the police," and as McIntyre commenced some +uncomplimentary remark, he added with sternness. "Don't interfere, +sir. Now, Grimes, your statements imply one of two things - some +member of the household either went downstairs after you had +retired, and opened the window in the reception room to admit the +person who afterwards attacked you in the library, or" - Ferguson +paused significantly, "some member of this household knocked you +senseless in the library. Which was it?" + +There was a tense silence. McIntyre, by an obvious effort, +refrained from speech as they waited for Grimes' answer. + +"I dunno who hit me." Grimes avoided looking at the three men. "But +some one did, and that window in the reception room was locked when +I went upstairs to my bedroom after every one had retired. I'm +telling you God's truth, sir." + +McIntyre eyed him in wrathful silence, then turned to his companions. + +"The blow has knocked Grimes silly," he commented. "There is +certainly no motive for any of us to attack Grimes, nor has any +trace of a weapon been found such as must have been used against +Grimes. O'Ryan and I looked particularly for it, after removing +Grimes from the Venetian casket, where my daughter Helen, Mrs. +Brewster and I discovered him lying unconscious." + +"What's this Venetian casket like?" asked Ferguson before Kent +could question McIntyre. + +"It is a fine sample of carving of the Middle Ages," replied +McIntyre. "I purchased the pair when in Venice years ago. They +are over six feet in length, about three feet wide, and rest on a +carved base. There is a door at the end through which it was +customary in the Middle Ages to slide the body, after embalming, +for the funeral ceremonies, after which the body was removed, +placed in another casket and buried. There is a square opening or +peep hole on the top of the casket through which you can look at +the body; a cleverly concealed door covers this opening. In fact," +added McIntyre, "the door at the end is not at first discernible, +and is hard to open, unless one has the knack of doing so." + +"Hum! It looks as if whoever put Grimes inside the casket was +familiar with it," remarked Ferguson dryly, and McIntyre bit his +lip. "Guess I'll go and take a look at the casket. I'll come back, +Grimes." + +Kent rose with the others and started to follow them to the door, +but Grimes beckoned him to approach the bed. The butler waited +until he heard McIntyre's heavy tread and the lighter footfall of +the detective recede down the hall before speaking. + +"I was only going to say, sir," he whispered as Kent, at a sign +from him, stooped over the bed, "I got a box of aconitine pills +for Mrs. Brewster on Sunday - the stuff that poisoned Mr. Turnbull," +he paused to explain. + +"Yes, go on," urged Kent, catching the man's excitement. "You +gave it to Mrs. Brewster -" + +"No, sir; I didn't; I left the box on the hall table," Grimes +cleared his throat nervously. "I dunno who picked up that box +o' poison, Mr. Kent; so help me God, I dunno!" + +Kent thought rapidly. "Have you told any one of this?" he asked. + +Grimes nodded. "Only one person," he admitted." I spoke to Miss +Barbara last night as she was going to bed." Grimes laid a hot +hand on Kent's and glanced fearfully around the room. "Bend nearer, +sir; I don't want none other to hear me. Just before I got that +knockout blow in the library last night, I heard the swish o' skirts +- and Miss Barbara was the only living person who knew I knew about +the poison." + +Kent stared in stupefaction at the butler. He was aroused by a +cold voice from the doorway. + +"We are waiting for you, Kent," and Colonel McIntyre stood aside +to let him pass from the room ahead of him, then without a backward +glance at the injured butler, he closed and locked the bedroom door. + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +THE FATAL PERIOD + +As Kent walked into the library he found Colonel McIntyre by his +side; the latter's even breathing gave no indication of the haste +he had made down the staircase to catch up with Kent. + +Detective Ferguson hardly noted their arrival, his attention being +given wholly to the examination of the Venetian casket which had +played such an important part in the drama of the night before. +The casket and its companion piece stood on either side of the room +near a window recess. The long straight shape of the high boxes on +their graceful base gave no indication of the use to which they had +been put in ancient days, but made attractive as well as unique +pieces of furniture. + +Kent crossed the library and, after looking inside the casket, +examined the exterior with care. + +"Don't touch that crest," cautioned Ferguson, observing that Kent's +glance remained focused on the blood-stained, raised letter "B" +and the carving back of it. "In fact, don't touch any part of the +casket, I'm trying to get finger prints." + +Kent barely heard the warning as he turned to McIntyre. + +"Haven't I seen that letter 'B' design on your stationery, Colonel?" +he asked. + +"Barbara uses it," was the reply. "She fancied the antique +lettering, and copied the 'B' for the engraver; she is handy with +her pen, you know." + +"Did she wish the 'B' for a seal?" inquired Kent. + +"Yes, she had a seal made like it also." McIntyre moved closer to +the casket. "Found anything, Ferguson?" + +The detective withdrew his head from the opening at the end of the +casket, and regarded the furniture vexedly. + +"Not a thing," he acknowledged. "Except I am convinced that it +required dexterity to slip Grimes inside the casket. The butler is +small and slight, but he must have been unconscious from that tap +on the forehead and, therefore, a dead weight. Whoever picked him +up must have been some athlete, and" - running his eyes up and down +Colonel McIntyre's well-knit, erect frame - "pretty familiar with +the workings of this casket." + +"Pooh! It's not so difficult a feat," McIntyre shrugged his +shoulders disdainfully. "My daughters, as children, used to play +hide and seek inside the casket with each new governess." + +Ferguson stepped forward briskly. "Mr. Kent, let me see if I can +lift you inside the casket; make yourself limp - that's it!" as +Kent, entering into the investigation heart and soul, relaxed +his muscles and fell back against the detective. + +A moment later he was swung upward and pushed head-first inside the +casket and the door closed. The air, though close, was not +unpleasant and Kent, his eyes growing gradually accustomed to the +dark interior, tried to discover the trap door at the top of the +box but without success. Putting out his hands he felt along the +top. The height of the casket did not permit him to sit up, so +he was obliged to slide his body down toward his feet to feel +along the sides of the casket. This maneuver soon brought his +knees in violent contact with the top, and at the sound Ferguson +opened the door and assisted him out. + +"Had enough of it?" he asked, viewing Kent's reddened cheeks with +faint amusement. "I wonder if Grimes could breathe in there for +any lengthy period. If so, it would help establish the time which +elapsed between his being incarcerated and your finding him, Colonel." + +"How so?" demanded McIntyre. + +"Well, if he couldn't get air and you hadn't discovered him at once, +he'd have died," explained Ferguson. "If you did find him +immediately the person who knocked him down must have made a +lightning escape." + +"Air does get in the casket in some way," broke in Kent. "It wasn't +so bad inside. Colonel McIntyre," Kent stopped a moment to remove a +piece of red sealing wax clinging to the cuff of his suit. It had +not been there when he entered the casket. Kent dropped the wax in +his vest pocket as he again addressed his host. "Who first +discovered Grimes in the casket?" + +"Mrs. Brewster." + +"And what was Mrs. Brewster doing in the library at that hour?" +glancing keenly at McIntyre as he put the question. + +"She could not sleep and came down for a book," explained the +Colonel. + +Ferguson, who had walked several times around the library, looking +behind first one and then the other of the seven doors, paused to +ask: + +"What attracted Mrs. Brewster's attention to the casket?" + +"The blood stain on its side," McIntyre answered. + +"What - that!" Ferguson eyed McIntyre +incredulously. "Come, sir, do you mean to tell me she noticed that +little bit of a stain in a dark room?" + +"She had an electric torch," shortly. + +"But why should she turn the torch on this casket?" persisted the +detective. "She came to the library for a book, and the bookcases +are in another part of the room." + +"Quite so, but the book she wished was lying on the top of this +casket," replied McIntyre, meeting their level looks with one +equally steadfast. "I know because I left the book there." + +Ferguson glanced from McIntyre to Kent and back again at the Colonel +in non-plussed silence. The explanation was pat. + +"I'd like to talk with Mrs. Brewster," he remarked dryly. + +"Certainly." McIntyre pressed an electric button. The summons was +answered immediately by the new servant, Murray. "Ask Mrs. Brewster +if she can see Detective Ferguson in the library, Murray," McIntyre +directed. + +"Beg pardon, sir, but Mrs. Brewster has just gone out," and with +a bow Murray withdrew. + +Kent, who had drawn forward a chair preparatory to sitting down +and participating in the interview with the widow, changed his mind. + +"I must leave at once," he said, after consulting his watch. +"Please inform Mrs. Brewster, Colonel, that I will be in my office +this afternoon, and I expect her to make me the visit she postponed +this morning. Ferguson," turning back to address the detective, +"you'll find me at the Saratoga for the next hour. Good morning," +and paying no attention to Colonel McIntyre's request to remain, he +left the room. + +There was no one in the hall and Kent debated a moment whether or +not to ring for the servant and ask to see Barbara, but, at sight +of the hall table, Grimes' confidences recurred to him and drove +everything else out of his mind. Stopping before the table he +contemplated its smooth surface before moving the few ornaments it +held. Satisfied that no pillbox stood behind any of them, he +pulled open the two drawers and tumbled their contents about. His +efforts only brought to light some half-empty cigarette boxes, +matches, a scratch pad or two, and old visiting cards. + +Kent shut the drawers, picked up his hat, and took his cane from +the tall china umbrella-stand by the hall table. As he stepped +through the front doorway he caught sight of the end of his cane, +which he was carrying tucked under his arm. Fastened to the ferule +of the cane was the round top of a paste-board pill box. + +Kent backed so swiftly into the house again that his figure blocked +the closing of the front door, which he had started to pull shut +after him. Letting the door close gently he walked back to +the umbrella stand. It was a tall heavy affair, and he had some +difficulty in tipping it over and letting its contents spill on the +floor. A soft exclamation escaped him as three little pellets +rolled past him, and then came the bottom of a box. + +With hasty fingers Kent picked them up, placed them in the box, and +fitted on the top, first carefully smoothing over the hole made by +his cane when thrust into the umbrella stand by the footman. +Replacing the stand he wrapped the box containing the pills in his +handkerchief and hurried from the house. + +Kent found the operative from Detective Headquarters sitting on +duty in Rochester's living room when he entered that apartment a +quarter of an hour later. + +"Any one called here?" he asked, as the man, whom he had met the +night before, greeted him. + +"Not a soul, Mr. Kent." Nelson suppressed a yawn; his relief was +late in coming, and he had had little sleep the night before. +"There's been no disturbance of any kind, not even a ring at the +telephone." + +Kent considered a moment, then sat down by the telephone and gave +a number to Central. + +"That you, Sylvester?" he called into the mouth-piece. "If Mrs. +Brewster comes to the office, telephone me at Mr. Rochester's +apartment, Franklin 52. Don't let Mrs. Brewster leave until I +have seen her." + +"Yes, sir," came the reply, and Kent hung up the receiver. + +"Had any luncheon?" he asked Nelson as the man loitered around. + +"Not yet" - Nelson's eyes brightened at the word. It was long past +his usual meal hour. + +"Run down to the caf on the first floor and tell the head waiter +to give you a square meal and charge it to me," Kent directed. +"Order something substantial; you must be used up." + +The man hung back. "Thank you, Mr. Kent, but I don't like to +leave here until my relief comes," he objected. + +"That's all right, I'll stay in the apartment until you return," +and Kent settled the question by opening the door leading into the +outer corridor. "Ferguson will be around shortly, so hurry." + +Kent watched the man scurry toward the elevator shaft, then returned +to Rochester's apartment and once more took up the telephone. The +operative's reluctance to leave the apartment unguarded had altered +his plans somewhat. + +"Is this Dr. Stone's office?" he asked a moment later, as a faint +"hello," came over the wire. "Oh, doctor, this is Kent. Please +come over to Rochester's apartment; I would like to consult you in +regard to an important matter. You'll come now? Thanks." + +The doctor kept Kent waiting less than five minutes. The clock +was striking one when he appeared, bland and smiling. Hardly +waiting for him to select a seat Kent flung himself into a chair in +front of Rochester's desk and laid the pill box on the writing pad. + +"Now, doctor," he began, and his manner gained in seriousness, "what, +in your opinion, killed Jimmie Turnbull?" + +"The post-mortem examination proved that he had swallowed aconitine +in sufficient quantity to cause death," Stone replied. "He +undoubtedly died from the effects of that poison." + +"Is aconitine difficult to procure?" asked Kent. + +"It is often prescribed for fevers." Stone made himself comfortable +in a near-by chair. "Aconitine is the alkaloid of aconite. I +believe that in India it is frequently employed, not only for the +destruction of wild beasts, but for criminal purposes. The India +variety is known as the Bish poison." + +Kent started - Bish poison - was he never to get away from the +letter "B"? + +"Can you procure Bish in this country?" he asked. + +Stone considered the question. "You might be able to purchase it +from some Hindoo residing or traveling in the United States," he +said, after a pause. " I doubt if you could buy it in a drug store." + +Kent heaved a sigh of relief as he hitched his chair closer to the +physician. + +"Did you prescribe a dose of aconitine for Mrs. Brewster recently?" +he asked. + +"I did, for an attack of rheumatic neuralgia." Stone eyed him +curiously. "What then, Kent?" + +"Is this the box the medicine came in?" and Kent placed the cover +in Stone's hand. + +Stone turned the paste-board over and studied the defaced label. +"I cannot answer that question positively," he said. "The label +bears my name and that of the druggist, but the directions are +missing." + +"But the number's on it," put in Kent swiftly. "Come, Stone, call +up the druggist, repeat the number to him, and ask if it calls for +your aconitine prescription." + +Stone hesitated as if about to speak, then, reaching out his hand, +he picked up the telephone and held a short conversation with the +drug clerk of the Thompson Pharmacy. + +"That is the box which contained the aconitine pills for Mrs. +Brewster," he said, when he had replaced the telephone. "Now, Kent, +I have secured the information you wished; kindly tell me your +reasons for desiring it." + +It was Kent's turn to hesitate. "Do you know many instances where +aconitine was used by murderers?" he questioned. + +"N-no. I believe it was the drug used in the celebrated Lamson +poison case," replied the physician slowly. "I cannot recall any +others just at the moment." + +"How about suicides?" + +"It is seldom, if ever, used for suicides." Stone spoke with more +assurance. "I have found in my practice, Kent, that suicides can +be classed as follows: drowning by the young, pistols by the adult, +and hanging by the aged; women generally prefer asphyxiation, using +illuminating gas. But this is beside the question, unless" - bending +a penetrating look at his companion -" unless you believe Jimmie +Turnbull committed suicide." + +"That idea has occurred to me," admitted Kent. "But it doesn't +square with other facts which have developed, nor is it in keeping +with the character of the man." + +"Men who suffer from a mortal disease sometimes commit desperate +acts, not at all in accord with their previous conduct," responded +Stone gravely. "Come, Kent, you have not answered my question. +Why did you wish information about this box of aconitine pills +prescribed for Mrs. Brewster during her attack of neuralgia?" + +"You have just stated that aconitine is not usually administered to +murder a person," Kent spoke seriously, choosing his words with care. +"Do you wonder then, that I consider it more than a coincidence that +Jimmie Turnbull should have died from a dose of that poison, and that +the drug should have been prescribed for one of the inmates of the +house he visited shortly before his death?" + +The physician sat upright, his face had grown gray. "Mr. Kent," he +commenced indignantly, "are you aware what you are insinuating? Are +you, also, aware that Mrs. Brewster is my cousin, a charming, +honorable woman, without a stain on her character?" + +Kent set the bottom of the box containing the pills in front of the +doctor. + +"I have found out that this box, with its dangerous drug, was left +on the hall table in the McIntyre house; apparently any one had +access to its contents, therefore my remarks are not directed +against Mrs. Brewster any more than against any person in the +McIntyre household, from the Colonel to the servants. I found these +three pills at the McIntyre house this morning; how many did your +prescription call for?" + +Stone picked up the small pills and, as he balanced them in his palm, +his manner grew more alert. Suddenly he dropped two back in the box +and touched the third pill with the tip of his tongue; not content +with that he crushed it in his fingers, sniffed the drug, and again +tested it with his tongue. His expression was peculiar as he looked +up at Kent. + +"These are not aconitine pills," he stated positively. "They are +nitro-glycerine. How did they get in this box?" + +Kent rubbed his chin in bewilderment. The box bearing the aconitine +label and the pills had all rolled out of the china umbrella stand, +and he had taken it for granted that the pills belonged in the box. + +"I found them loose in the same receptacle," he explained. "And +concluded they were what remained of the aconitine pills which +Grimes, the McIntyre butler, said he left on the hall table Sunday +afternoon." + +Stone smiled with what Kent, who was watching him closely, judged +to be an odd mixture of relief and apprehension. + +"You could not have found more dissimilar medicine to go in this +pill box, although the two kinds of pills are identical in color +and size," he said. "Aconitine depresses the heart action while +the other stimulates it." + +The physician's statement fell on deaf ears. Raising his head after +contemplating the pills, Kent had looked across the room and his +glance had fallen on a wing chair, standing just inside the doorway +of the living room, and thrown partly in shadow by the portieres. +The wing of the chair appeared to move. Kent rubbed his eyes and +looking again, caught the same slight movement. + +Bounding toward the chair Kent saw that the brown shape which he +had mistaken for part of the tufted upholstery was the sleek brown +hair of a man's well-shaped head. He halted abruptly on meeting the +gaze of a pair of mocking eyes. + +"Rochester?" he gasped unbelievingly. "Rochester!" + +His partner laughed softly as Stone approached. "I have been an +interested listener," he said. "Let me complete the good doctor's +argument. Nitro-glycerine would have benefitted Jimmie Turnbull and +his feeble heart; whereas the missing aconitine pills killed him." + +Stone regarded him with severity. "How did you get in this +apartment?" he demanded, declining the challenge Rochester had +offered in addressing his opinion of Turnbull's death directly to +him. + +Rochester dangled his bunch of keys in the physician's face and +smiled at his excited partner. "If you two hadn't been so absorbed +in your conversation you would have heard me walk in," he remarked. + +"Where have you been?" demanded Kent, partly recovering from his +astonishment which had deprived him of speech. + +"I decided to take a vacation at a moment's notice." Rochester spoke +with the same slow drawl which was characteristic of him. "You +should be accustomed to my eccentricities by this time, Harry." + +"We are," announced Detective Ferguson from the hallway, where he +and Nelson had been silent witnesses of the scene. "And we'll give +you a chance to explain them in the police court." + +"On what charge?" demanded Rochester. + +"Poisoning your room-mate, Mr. Turnbull," replied the detective, +drawing out a pair of handcuffs. "You are mighty clever, Mr. +Rochester. I've got to hand it to you for your mysterious +disappearances in and out of this apartment, and for murdering Mr. +Turnbull right in the police court in the presence of the judge, +police officials, and spectators." + +Kent stepped forward at sight of the handcuffs and laid a restraining +hand on the detective's shoulder. Rochester saw the movement, +guessed Kent's intention, and smiled. + +"We can settle the case here," he said cheerfully. "No need of +troubling the police judge. Now, Mr. Detective, how did I kill +Jimmie Turnbull before all those people without any one becoming +aware of the fact?" + +"Slipped the poison in the glass of water you handed him," answered +Ferguson promptly. "A nervy sleight-of-hand, but you'll swing for +it." + +Rochester's smile was exasperating as he turned to Dr. Stone. + +"Judging from Stone's remarks about aconitine - which I overheard," +he interpolated. "I gather the doctor is tolerably familiar with +the action of the drug. Does aconitine kill instantly, doctor?" + +Stone cleared his throat before speaking. "No; the fatal period +averages about four hours," he said, and Rochester's eyes sparkled +as he looked up at the detective. + +"Jimmie died almost immediately after I handed him that drink of +water," he declared. "If you wish to know who administered that +aconitine poison, you will have to find out who Jimmie was with at +the McIntyre house in the early hours of Tuesday morning." + +The sharp imperative ring of the telephone bell cut the silence +which followed. Kent, standing nearest the instrument, picked it +up, and recognized Sylvester's voice over the wire. + +"A message has just come, Mr. Kent," he called, "from Mrs. Brewster +saying that she will be in your office at four o'clock." + + +CHAPTER XIX + +THE RED SEAL AGAIN + +Harry Kent inserted his key in his office door with more vigor than +good judgment, and spent some seconds in re-adjusting it in the +lock. Once inside the office he put up the latch and closed the +door. A glance around the empty office showed him that Sylvester +had obeyed his telephone instructions and gone out to luncheon. + +Kent noted with satisfaction as he put his hat and cane in the coat +closet that he had over two hours before Mrs. Brewster's expected +arrival; ample time in which to consider in quietude the events of +the past few days, and plan for his interview with the pretty widow. +He had spent the time between Rochester's sudden reappearance and a +hastily swallowed lunch at a downtown caf , in arranging bail for +Rochester. Ferguson had proved obdurate and had persisted in taking +the lawyer to Police Headquarters. + +Dr. Stone had accompanied the trio, and his testimony, supported by +two chemists, regarding the time required for aconitine poison to +act, had gone far to weaken the detective's case against Rochester. + +Rochester, to Kent's unbounded astonishment, had appeared indifferent +to the whole proceedings; and to his partner's urgent inquiries as +to where he had spent the past four days, and why he had disappeared, +he had returned one invariable answer. + +"I'll explain in good time, Harry," and it was not until they were +leaving Police Headquarters that his apathy vanished. + +"When are you to see Mrs. Brewster?" he asked. + +"She will be at our office at four o'clock. Say, Phil" - but +Rochester, shaking off his detaining hand, darted across the street +and sprang into a passing taxi bearing the sign, "For Hire," and +that was the last Kent had seen of his elusive partner. + +Kent dropped into his chair and glanced askance at the mail piled +in neat array on his desk; he was not in a frame of mind to handle +routine office business. Other clients would have to wait until +later in the day. A memorandum pad, bearing a message in Sylvester's +precise penmanship attracted his wandering attention and he picked +it up. + +"Mr. Kent:" he read. "Colonel McIntyre called just after I talked +with you on the 'phone; he waited in your office for half an hour, +then left, stating he would come back. Miss Barbara McIntyre called +immediately afterwards, but would not wait more than five minutes. +Mr. Clymer came as she was going out and left a note on your desk. +I will return soon. + "SYLVESTER." + +Kent laid down the pad and picked up a twisted three-cornered note +bearing his name in pencil. Unfolding it, he scanned the hurriedly +written lines: + +"Dear Kent - McIntyre telephoned there were new developments in the +Turnbull affair. Will be back later."Yours - + "B. A. CLYMER." + +Kent judged from the use of his initials that Clymer was stirred +out of his ordinary calm, nothing else explained his failure to +sign his full name, and he wondered what confidences McIntyre had +made to the bank president. + +Tossing down the note, Kent lighted his pipe, tilted back in his +swivel chair, and reviewed the facts which implicated Rochester in +Jimmie Turnbull's murder. Rochester's quarrels with Jimmie, his +persistent assertion that his friend had died from angina pectoris, +his unexplained disappearance on Tuesday night, the fake telegram +from Cleveland stating he was there, the withdrawal of his bank +deposits, the forged checks, his mysterious visits to his own +apartment, when considered together, presented a chain of +circumstantial evidence connecting him with the crime. But in the +light of Dr. Stone's testimony, the poison "could not have been +administered in the glass of water Rochester had given Jimmie in +the police court. + +Four hours at least had to elapse before the fatal dose of aconitine +could take effect - four hours! Kent told them off on his fingers; +it placed the crime in the McIntyre house. Which one of its inmates +administered the poison to Jimmie and how had it been done? What +motive had prompted the cashier's murder? + +It was preposterous to think that either of the twins was guilty of +the crime. Helen's devotion to Jimmie, her insistence upon an +autopsy being held indicated her innocence. She had stated at the +inquest that she had not known the burglar's identity; Kent paused +as the thought occurred to him - the twins had swapped identities +on the witness stand, and therefore Helen had not been called upon +to answer that question! To the best of his recollection she had +only been asked if she had recognized Jimmie in the court room and +not at her home. But Helen it was who had summoned Officer O'Ryan +on discovering the burglar and had him arrested. She surely would +never have done so had she guessed his identity. + +As for Barbara McIntyre - Kent's heart beat faster at thought of +the girl he loved so well. Circumstantial evidence had seemed for +a time to involve her in the crime. Grimes' outrageous insinuation +that he had been assaulted on account of confiding to her that the +box of aconitine pills had been left on the hall table where any one +could get them, was the outcome of his battered condition. When +physical strength returned, the butler would forget his +hallucinations. The handkerchief with its embroidered letter "B," +used by Jimmie to inhale the fumes from his amyl nitrite capsules, +was finally traced to its rightful owner - Mrs. Brewster. + +And Mrs. Brewster was due in his office within a very short time. +Kent's square jaw became more pronounced; she should not leave +until she had either confessed her connection with Turnbull's death, +or established her innocence. Surely it would be easy for Mrs. +Brewster to do so, but - aconitine had been prescribed for her; she +was familiar with the poison, she had it at hand, she went to the +police court, and kept her trip a secret, and she had laughed when +Jimmie was carried dying from the court room. But what motive could +have inspired her to murder Jimmie? Was he an old lover - Kent, +unable to keep quiet any longer, rose and paced up and down the +office, stopping a moment to glance out of the window. As he +passed the safe he saw the door was ajar. Kent paused abruptly. +Who had opened the safe? + +Crossing to the outer office he looked around; no one was there. +It flashed into Kent's mind that he had seen Rochester's light top +coat and walking stick in the coat closet as he hung up his hat on +his arrival, and he again opened the closet door. The coat and +stick were still there; so Rochester had come to the office +immediately after leaving him, and carelessly left the safe +open! Kent smiled in spite of his vexation; the act was typical +of his eccentric partner. + +Going back to his own office Kent opened the safe and glanced +inside. The pigeon holes and compartments appeared untouched, +except the door of one small compartment on Rochester's side. An +envelope was wedged in such a manner that the small door would +not shut and that had prevented the closing of the outer safe door. + +Kent, preparatory to shutting the safe, drew out the envelope +intending to place it in another pigeon-hole where there was more +room. As he turned the envelope over he was thunderstruck to +recognize it as the one which Helen McIntyre had placed in the safe +on Wednesday morning. He had last seen the envelope lying on the +table in the smoking porch of the Club de Vingt, from whence it +had mysteriously disappeared, and now it was back again in +Rochester's safe! + +Had it ever been missing from the safe? The question forced itself +on Kent as he returned to his chair, envelope in hand, and sat down +before his desk. He had accepted Detective Ferguson's statement +that he had removed the envelope from the safe, and therefore had +never looked in the compartment where Helen had put it to verify its +disappearance. + +Ferguson had removed it, Kent concluded as he examined the envelope +with more care; it was the identical one, unaddressed, with the same +red seal holding down the flap. The same red seal, but with a +difference - a corner was missing. + +Kent stared at the seal for a moment in doubt, then his fingers +sought his vest pocket and fumbled about for a minute. Taking out +Mrs. Brewster's check, he laid it on the desk alongside the envelope, +unfolded it, and picked out a piece of red sealing wax which had slid +inside the check. Kent placed the red wax on the broken section of +the seal - it fitted exactly, forming a perfect letter "B." + +Kent sat in dumbfounded silence, regarding the red seal and the +envelope. The piece of wax broken off from the seal had caught on +his coat sleeve when he had been in the Venetian casket in the +library at the McIntyre house. It was proof positive that not only +he had been in the casket, but the sealed envelope also. Helen +McIntyre had left the envelope in his care. Mrs. Brewster and +Colonel McIntyre had both been present when the envelope was stolen +from him. Which of them had taken it? Which one had afterwards +secreted it in the Venetian casket? And which had brought it back +to the safe in his office? + +Colonel McIntyre had been in his office within the hour - the +question was answered, and Kent's eyes brightened, then clouded +- Barbara had been there as well, and Grimes had stated that before +he received a knock-out blow in the McIntyre library he heard the +swish of skirts! + +Kent laid his hand on the envelope. It was time that he found out +what it contained; but his finger, inserted under the flap, paused +as his eyes fell on the check bearing Mrs. Brewster's signature. +It was the check he had picked up from the floor of the McIntyre +limousine that morning and inadvertently carried away with him. + +>From her signature his glance wandered to Sylvester's memorandum +pad; it was uncanny the way his eye picked out the letter "B" as he +stared at Clymer's note and its signature. Slowly his hand dropped +away from the envelope and he left it lying forgotten on the desk +as he picked up piece after piece of blotting paper, glancing +intently at each and finally, pulling open a drawer of his desk, +he hunted in feverish haste for a hand-mirror. + +Some ten minutes later Kent rose, placed the papers he had been +examining in the inside pocket of his coat and, using the private +entrance from his office into the corridor, he hurried away. + +When Helen McIntyre entered the office of Rochester and Kent for the +second time that afternoon she found Sylvester transcribing +stenographic notes on his typewriter. + +"Mr. Kent is expecting you, miss," he said, holding open the inner +office door, and with a courteous word of thanks, Helen passed the +clerk and the door closed behind her. Kent rose at her approach +and bowed formally. + +"Take this chair," he suggested, and not until she was seated did +Helen realize he had placed her where the light fell full upon her. +"I asked you to come here," he began, as she waited for him to speak, +"Because I must have your confidence - if I am to aid you. Did you +meet, recognize, and talk to Jimmie Turnbull in your house sometime +between Monday midnight and his arrest on Tuesday morning?" + +She colored hotly, then paled. "My testimony at the inquest," +- she commenced, but he gave her no opportunity to add more. + +"Your testimony there does not cover the question," he explained. +"You stated then that you had not recognized Jimmie in the court +room. Had you already penetrated his disguise at your house?" + +"And if I had?" + +"Did you?" Kent was doggedly persistent, and Helen's fingers closed +around her handbag with convulsive force. Why had she not sent +Barbara to see Kent in her place? + +"Did I what?" she parried. + +"Did you recognize and talk with Jimmie Turnbull in your house?" + +"I talked with him, yes," she admitted, and her voice dropped almost +to a whisper. + +"As Jimmie Turnbull or Smith the burglar?" + +"As Jimmie" - she confessed, after a slight pause. + +"Then why did you go through the farce of having Jimmie arrested as +a burglar?" Kent demanded. + +"So that Barbara might win her wager," promptly. Kent stared at +her incredulously. + +"Do you mean that, notwithstanding the risk to which you were +subjecting him with his weak heart, you kept up the farce simply +that Barbara might win an idiotic wager?" Kent asked. + +Helen passed one nervous hand over the other; her palms were hot +and dry, and two hectic spots had appeared in each white cheek. + +"Jimmie was quite well Monday night," she protested. "He - he - had +some heart medicine with him." + +Amyl nitrite?" + +"No." + +"Nitro-glycerine?" + +"I - I think that was it, I am not quite sure," she spoke with +uncertainty, and Kent knew that she lied. His heart sank. + +"Did he swallow any medicine in your presence?" + +She shook her head vigorously. "No, he did not." + +Kent lowered his voice. "Did you see him take Mrs. Brewster's +aconitine pills off the hall table?" + +Helen shifted her gaze to his face and then back to her ever +restless hands. "No," she said. "I did not see him take the pills." + +Kent studied her in a silence which, to her, seemed never-ending. + +"I want the true answer to this question," he announced with meaning +emphasis. "Why did Jimmie go in disguise to your house on Monday +night?" + +Helen blanched. "How should I know," she muttered evasively. "He +- he didn't come to see me - the admission was barely above a +whisper. + +"But you know what transpired in your house on Monday night?" +demanded Kent eagerly. + +His question met with no response, and he repeated it, but still +the girl remained silent. Kent gave her a moment's grace, then +drawing out the unaddressed envelope from his pocket he held it +toward her. A low cry broke from her, and her expression changed +as she caught sight of the broken seal. + +"You have opened it!" + +"Not yet," Kent held the envelope just beyond her reach. "I will +only give it to you with the understanding that you open the envelope +now in my presence and let me see its contents." + +Helen drew back, then impulsively extended her hand. + +"I agree," she said. "Give me the envelope." + +"Stop!" The word rang out, startling Kent as well as Helen, and Mrs. +Brewster, whose noiseless entrance a few seconds before had gone +unobserved, hurried to them. "The envelope is mine. + + +CHAPTER XX + +THE UNKNOWN EQUATION + +No, no," protested Helen vehemently. "You shall not give the +envelope to Margaret - you must not." + +"It is mine," insisted the widow with equal vehemence. + +"Mrs. Brewster." Kent withheld the envelope from both women. "Will +you tell me the contents of this envelope?" + +"No," curtly. "It is not your affair." + +"It is my affair," retorted Kent with equally shortness of manner. +"I insist on an answer to my questions in the limousine this morning. +How came your handkerchief in Jimmie's possession, and why did you +go to the police court and, yet keep your presence there a secret?" + +"Jimmie must have picked up the handkerchief when in the McIntyre +house," she answered sullenly. "I presume he forgot to provide him +self with one in his make-up as burglar. As regards your second +question I admit I did go to the police court out of curiosity - I +wanted to find out what was going on. You," with a resentful glance +at Helen, "treated me as an outsider, and I was determined to find +out for myself how the burglar farce would end." + +"Ah, you term it a farce - is that why you laughed in court?" asked +Kent quickly. + +Mrs. Brewster changed color. "I feel badly about that," she +stammered. "I meant no disrespect to Jimmie, but I have a nervous +inclination to laugh - almost hysteria - when excited and +overwrought." + +"I see," answered Kent slowly. He was distinctly puzzled; Mrs. +Brewster's air of candor disarmed suspicion, but - "You saw and +talked with Jimmie Turnbull on Monday night?" + +"I did not." Her denial was firm. + +"Then how did you learn of his arrest?" asked Kent swiftly. + +"I overheard him conversing -" + +"With whom?" Kent demanded eagerly as she paused as if to reconsider +her confidences. Helen, one hand on the desk and the other on the +arm of her chair, tried to rise, but her strength had deserted her. +"With whom?" repeated Kent as the widow remained silent. + +"Jimmie was talking with Grimes," Mrs. Brewster stated slowly. +"From what I overheard, he paid Grimes to let him inside the house." + +Kent looked perplexed as he gazed first at the widow and then at +Helen, who had sunk back in her chair. + +"Mrs. Brewster," he began after a pause. "Who gave Jimmie your +aconitine pills which Grimes left on the hall table?" + +"The murderer." + +"Yes, of course." Kent was watching her closely and he detected the +tiny beads of perspiration which were gathering on her upper lip. +"And who, in your opinion, was the murderer?" + +Mrs. Brewster's expression changed - she looked hunted, and her +eyes fell before Kent's; abruptly she turned her back on him, to +find Colonel McIntyre at her elbow and Barbara just entering the +room. Her eyes traveled past the girl until they rested on Philip +Rochester and Detective Ferguson hovering behind him. Her face +altered. + +"I saw Philip Rochester," pointing dramatically toward him, "crawl +out of the reception room window and dart into the street just as +O'Ryan came in the front door with Helen." + +Detective Ferguson could not restrain a joyful exclamation. "So +that was it!" he cried. "You were at the McIntyre house, and gave +the poison to Turnbull there - and not in the court room - four +hours before he died. You'll swing for that crime, my buck, in +spite of your glib tongue and slippery ways." + +As he ceased speaking Ferguson's ever ready handcuffs swung +suggestively from his hand, but Helen's agonized cry checked his +approach toward Rochester, who stood stolidly waiting for him. + +"Father! You cannot permit this monstrous injustice, Philip shall +not suffer for another. No, Barbara," as her sister strove to +quiet her, we must tell the truth." + +"Suppose I tell it for Colonel McIntyre," Rochester advanced as the +door opened and Sylvester ushered in Benjamin Clymer. "You have +come in time, Clymer," his voice deepened, the voice of a man +accustomed to present a case and sway a court. "Wait, Sylvester, +sit at that table and take down these charges -" + +"Charges?" questioned Kent, watching his partner narrowly; he +tossed a stenographic pad to Sylvester and made a place for him at +his desk. "Go on, Rochester; charges against whom?" + +"Charges against the man who, occupying a position of trust, planned +to swindle the Metropolis Trust Company through forged notes and +checks," Rochester stated with slow emphasis. "Jimmie Turnbull +learned that you, Clymer, were to visit Colonel McIntyre on Monday +night, and he went there in disguise to find out if his suspicions +were correct. The investigation cost him his life." + +Clymer, who had followed Rochester's statement, first with +bewilderment and then with rising wrath, found his voice. + +"You drunken scoundrel!" he roared. "How dare you!" + +"Dare!" Rochester laughed recklessly. "Jimmie kept his wits to the +last; his mind was clear; he recognized you in the prisoner's pen +and he tried to call you, but his palsied tongue could not say Ben, +but stuttered - B - b - b." + +"And what did he wish to tell me?" gasped Clymer, down whose +colorless face perspiration trickled. + +"Aye, what?" broke in Kent significantly. + +"Jimmie may not have gotten the information he wished at your house, +Colonel McIntyre, but his presence there on Monday night showed the +forger he was in danger, and like the human snake he is, he poisoned +without warning. Don't move - Sylvester!" + +With a backward spring Kent caught his clerk as he sped for the door. + +"Don't make any mistake in putting on the handcuffs this time, +Ferguson," he shouted. "A forger and a contortionist make a bad +customer to reckon with." + + +CHAPTER XXI + +THE RIDDLE ANSWERED + +There was absolute stillness in the room; then a babble of +exclamations broke out as Sylvester, his expression of dumb surprise +giving place to one of fury, struggled to free himself from the +detective's firm grip. + +"You cannot escape, Sylvester," declared Kent, observing his efforts. +"Your carelessness in using your peculiar gift of penmanship in +copying Barbara McIntyre's signature in this memorandum of her visit +here" - Kent held up a sheet torn from his pad, "gave me the first +clew. These, the second," he showed several pieces of blotting +paper freshly used. "See, in the mirror here is reflected the +impression from your clever imitations of the handwritings of +Barbara, Colonel McIntyre, and Mrs. Brewster." + +They crowded about Kent, all but Ferguson and his prisoner, who had +subsided in his chair with what the detective concluded was +dangerous quietude. + +"My next step, now that suspicion was directed against Sylvester, +was to make personal inquiries regarding him," went on Kent. "Judge +Hildebrand, who had just returned to Washington, said that he first +met Sylvester at a circus sideshow where he gave exhibitions as a +contortionist. One of his special stunts was to slip out of +handcuffs and ropes." + +"So that explains last night," Ferguson grinned. "You'll not do it +again, Sylvester," and he shook an admonitory finger at the +erstwhile clerk. + +"Judge Hildebrand became interested in Sylvester, found he was handy +with his pen and tired of the show business, and gave him an opening +by engaging him as confidential clerk," continued Kent. "You will +recall, Colonel McIntyre, that you sent business papers in your +handwriting and that of your daughters to Judge Hildebrand's office +to be typed by his staff. That is how Sylvester became so well +acquainted with your writing and was able to forge a letter to the +bank treasurer directing him to turn over your negotiable securities +to Jimmie Turnbull." + +"But how in the world did Sylvester induce Jimmie to present the +forged letter?" asked Colonel McIntyre. + +Kent turned to the sullen prisoner. "Answer that question, +Sylvester," he commanded, and the man roused himself from his +dejected attitude. + +"Anything in it for me if I do?" he asked with a cunning leer. + +"That's for the courts to decide," declared Kent. + +The man thought a minute. "I'll take a chance," he said finally. +"But that I waited for an opportunity to get my swag out of this +safe, I wouldn't have been caught - curse you!" and he scowled at +Kent. + +"Cut that out," admonished Ferguson with a none too gentle dig in +the ribs, and Sylvester continued his statement. + +"I overheard Colonel McIntyre tell Judge Hildebrand about his +securities and their present value, and the next day he came to +consult the judge about engaging a secretary. I fixed up +credentials and went to Mr. Turnbull; he believed my story that I +was the colonel's new secretary and got the securities." +Sylvester paused. "If I'd rested content with that success I'd +been all right," he added. "But I was in too great a hurry and +forged Mr. Clymer's signature to a check for five thousand dollars +and presented it at the Metropolis Trust Company. As luck would +have it Mr. Turnbull cashed it for me himself." + +"But didn't he suspect you?" exclaimed Clymer. He had gradually +recovered from the shock of Rochester's charges on his arrival, +and was listening with keen attention to Sylvester's confession. + +"No. I made the check payable to Colonel McIntyre and forged his +endorsement," Sylvester spoke with an air of pride, and he smiled +in malicious enjoyment as, catching his eye, Barbara shrank back +and sheltered herself behind Kent. "Mr. Turnbull accepted the +check; later something must have aroused his suspicions, and I +found when he questioned me that he believed Colonel McIntyre had +forged the check." + +"Good heavens! You let him think that?" gasped McIntyre; then +wrath gained the mastery. "You scoundrel!" + +"Oh, I encouraged him to think it," Sylvester grinned again. "You +must have handed Mr. Turnbull a raw deal; he was so ready to think +evil of you." + +"That is a lie!" exclaimed Helen hotly. "When I went downstairs to +investigate the noise I heard in the library, father, Jimmie told +me who he was to quiet my fright. He showed me a letter, which he +had just found on your desk in the library, confessing that you had +forged Mr. Clymer's name on the check, and begging Jimmie to conceal +your crime and save Barbara and me from the shame of having you +exposed as a forger and a thief." + +"I never wrote such a letter!" shouted McIntyre, deeply incensed. + +"No, it was a clever plan," acknowledged Sylvester. "On one of my +trips to your house, Colonel McIntyre, I secured wax impressions of +your front door lock. I went to your house Monday night and put +the letter among your papers just before Turnbull was admitted by +your fool of a butler." + +"And you gave Jimmie Turnbull a dose of poison - charged Kent, but +Sylvester, his lips gone dry, raised his manacled hands in protest. + +"I did not poison him," he cried. "I waited just to see if Turnbull +got the letter and to find out what he'd do with the securities, +which he had refused to turn over to me. After he had read the +forged letter Mr. Turnbull acted sort of faint and went out in the +hall. I could just see him put down a box on the hall table and +lean against the wall. Then he went into the dining room and came +back a second later carrying a glass of water, and I saw him take +up and open a small box and toss some white pills into his mouth; +then he took a good drink, and, picking up a handkerchief lying on +the table, he went back into the library." + +There was silence as Sylvester's callous recital of the tragedy +ended. Helen, her eyes tearless and dark with suffering, sank +slowly back in her chair and rested her head against Barbara's +sympathetic shoulder. + +"So Turnbull's death was accidental after all," exclaimed Ferguson. +"Or was it suicide?" + +"Accident," answered Kent. "I found some nitro-glycerine pills in +the umbrella stand by the hall table." Colonel McIntyre nodded. +"Evidently Turnbull put down his pill box before getting a glass of +water, and in his attack of giddiness accidentally opened your box +of aconitine pills, Mrs. Brewster, instead of his own, and swallowed +a fatal dose, thinking they were nitroglycerine." + +Mrs. Brewster bowed her head in agreement. That must have been it," +she said. "However, I saw Colonel McIntyre tear off the paper +wrapping and open my package of pills just before dinner, and when +I heard that Jimmie had died from aconitine I - I -" she stammered +and stopped short. + +"You suspected I had murdered him?" asked McIntyre softly. + +"Yes," she looked appealingly at him. "Forgive me, I should never +have suspected you, but the pills, box and all, were missing the +next morning from the hall table." + +"Turnbull must have thrown the box into the umbrella stand," +explained Kent. "That was where I found it. Did you get the +securities, Sylvester?" turning to the prisoner. + +"No," sullenly. "She did," and a jerk of his thumb indicated Helen +McIntyre. + +Helen raised her head and addressed them slowly. + +"Jimmie and I expected Barbara to come in at any moment, and he +started to leave when we saw you coming downstairs," she turned to +Mrs. Brewster. "Jimmie declared that if we were found together I +might be compromised. He couldn't explain his presence without +exposing father - we both thought you a forger, father," she +interpolated, as McIntyre took her hand and pressed it +understandingly. "So he insisted that I should treat him like an +ordinary burglar - we had both forgotten Barbara's silly wager in +our horror about father. Jimmie didn't dare take the securities +and father's confession with him for fear he'd be searched at the +police station, and the scandal would have come out then." + +"True," agreed McIntyre. "Go on, Helen." + +"So Jimmie thrust the securities and father's confession into an +envelope and sealed it with red wax, using Barbara's seal," +explained Helen. "He hadn't time to write an address or message +on it, but he told me to return the envelope to him later in the +day or give it to Philip Rochester and ask his aid. I brought it +here on Wednesday morning and with Harry's permission put the +envelope in the safe." + +"I tried to get it from there," volunteered Sylvester, "for I +overheard Turnbull's plan, before I left by the reception room +window." + +"So it was you and not Mr. Rochester whom I saw steal out of the +window," exclaimed Mrs. Brewster. + +"It's not the first time I've been mistaken for him," exclaimed +Sylvester calmly. + +Kent started and, gazing at Rochester and the clerk, saw there +was a general resemblance in coloring and physique. + +"Did you present the checks to McDonald at the Metropolis Trust +Company bearing Rochester's and my forged signatures?" he asked. + +"I did," acknowledged Sylvester. "Mr. Rochester's wardrobe came +in very handy for deceiving the casual glance. You know, 'clothes +make the man, and want of it the fellow.'" + +Kent looked up quickly, struck by an idea. + +"Sylvester, did you steal the envelope containing the securities +from me at the Club de Vingt?" he asked. + +Sylvester shook his head. "No, but she did," pointing to Mrs. +Brewster. "It's no lie," as McIntyre uttered an indignant denial. +"When Ferguson left here carrying off the securities from under my +nose almost - I had spent the whole day trying to learn the safe's +combination; I trailed him to the Club de Vingt, and heard the +head waiter tell him you, Mr. Kent, were sitting in the small +smoking porch, so I climbed up the trumpet vine; oh, it was strong +and no climb for one who has done the feats I have in the circus. +I reached the porch just in time to see Mrs. Brewster drop her fan, +and when the men bent to pick it up she 'lifted' the envelope and +concealed it under her scarf." + +"Don't," Mrs. Brewster laid a detaining hand on McIntyre as he +stepped forward. "The man is telling the truth. I thought it was +the envelope you gave me earlier in the evening - it was unaddressed +and the red seal was the same." + +"Just a moment," interrupted Kent. "What did you do with the +envelope?" + +"When I returned home I dropped it inside one of the Venetian +caskets," Mrs. Brewster replied. "No one ever went near them, and I +thought it would be safe there. You see, I was puzzled to know how +it had disappeared from the desk in the reception room, where I had +left it in one of the pigeon holes, intending to take it later to +my room." + +"I took the envelope - your envelope - out of the desk," confessed +McIntyre. "I would have spoken of it, Margaret, but was hurt that +you had left our marriage certificate lying around so carelessly." + +"Your what?" Barbara sprang up, astounded. + +"Our marriage certificate," repeated McIntyre firmly. "Margaret +and I were married last week in Baltimore. We would have told you, +Helen, but your peculiar conduct and Barbara's, so angered me that +I forbade Margaret to take you into our confidence." + +"Father!" Barbara got no further, for Helen had risen. She spoke +with quiet dignity. + +"You forget, father, that since Monday night we have thought you +a forger and, worse, a murderer," her voice faltered. "In our +effort to guard you we have become estranged. Margaret"- she held +out her hand with an affectionate gesture and with a sob her +step-mother kissed her. + +"How did this envelope get back inside our safe?" asked Kent a +moment later, picking it up and displaying the red seal, intact +save for the broken corner. + +"I went downstairs about midnight or a little later and into the +library," confessed Helen. "What was my surprise and terror to see +Grimes holding the envelope. To me it meant father's exposure as a +forger. I had a revolver in my hand and struck before I thought. +Then I must temporarily have lost my reason. It was only my thought +to save father that lent me courage and strength to thrust Grimes +inside the casket where Babs and I used to hide. I then returned +to my room, and was just coming downstairs again after secreting the +envelope, to release Grimes and get medical assistance if need be, +when Margaret's screams aroused the household." + +McIntyre interrupted his daughter with a hasty gesture, and +addressed his wife. "When Detective Ferguson questioned me as to +your reason for being in the library, Margaret, I stated you had +gone down to get a book left lying on the Venetian casket," he +said. "I waited for you to volunteer an explanation of your +presence there, but you never made any." + +"I went down to get our marriage certificate." Margaret forgot the +presence of others and spoke only to him, the love-light in her eyes +pleading against the censure she dreaded, as she made her brief +confession. "Mr. Clymer sent me a note, inclosing a canceled check, +stating the bank officials had decided my signature was a forgery. +The check was drawn to Barbara, and on examining it I noticed the +peculiar formation of the letter 'B'; it is characteristic of your +handwriting and Helen's." She paused, and added: + +"I was at a loss what to think. I knew you and Helen wrote alike; +Helen's extraordinary behavior to me led me to believe that perhaps +she had been short of funds, and forged my name to a check in +desperation. Then I remembered seeing you, Charles, open the box +containing my aconitine pills, the box's disappearance, and Jimmie's +death from that poison" - she raised her hands in an expressive +gesture. "Although my reason told me that you might be guilty, my +loyalty and love refuted the accusation." + +"Margaret!" McIntyre's voice shook with emotion; then controlling +himself he turned to Sylvester. "I presume this check was some more +of your deviltry?" + +Helen answered for the clerk. Removing a soiled paper from her bag +she laid it on Kent's desk. "This note was handed to me by Grimes," +she explained. "It reads: 'Helen, please cash this check and give +money to Mrs. Brewster's dressmaker. Father.' I followed the +instructions." + +"And gave the money to my sister," Sylvester chuckled at their +surprise. "My sister was taught in a French convent, and she is +an excellent seamstress, when she isn't drunk, as Mrs. McIntyre +knows." + +"See here, Sylvester," Clymer broke his long silence. "You were in +the police court on a charge of assault and battery brought by your +wife on Tuesday morning, and you were in the prisoner's cage at the +moment Turnbull died. How then was it possible for you to be at the +McIntyre's at midnight on Monday?" + +"I was out on bail and appeared in the courtroom just in time for my +trial," Sylvester explained. "I did not have to sit in the cage, but +recognizing Turnbull I went there to be with him." + +Kent placed the forged check bearing Margaret Brewster's signature +on the desk. "I take it this check is your work, Sylvester," he +said. "You reaped the benefit by having the money paid to your +sister. Did you also have the fake telegram delivered to me stating +Mr. Rochester was in Cleveland?" + +"I faked that," broke in Rochester, before the clerk could make a +disclaimer. "I thought it best to disappear for a few days down in +Virginia, where I could think things over in peace." + +"So it was you, Sylvester, and not Mr. Rochester whom I encountered +in his apartment," exclaimed Kent. "How did you get in the +apartment?" + +"From the fire-escape and along the window ledge to the bathroom +window." Sylvester hitched his shoulders. "It was nothing for a +man of my agility." + +Ferguson eyed him with doubtful respect. + +"You have courage," he admitted grudgingly. "Come, we must get to +Headquarters," and he aided Sylvester to his feet, but once standing, +Sylvester refused to move. Instead he turned to Helen. + +"What was that you passed to Mr. Rochester in the police court and +he later gave to Mr. Turnbull?" he asked. "Oh, don't deny it, I +saw you palm a note, Mr. Rochester, from the young lady." + +"There is nothing now to conceal," declared Helen. "After O'Ryan +and Jimmie left the house for the police station I grew fearful that +Jimmie might over-tax his strength in carrying out the farce of his +arrest. So as soon as I could I telephoned to Philip to meet me at +the police court and to bring some amyl nitrite capsules with him." + +"And the note, Sylvester, which you saw Miss McIntyre give me in +court," concluded Rochester, as Helen paused, "told me to hand the +capsules to the burglar and to defend him in court. I did both, +although badly puzzled by the request." Rochester hesitated. "I +carried out your wishes, Helen, without question; but when the +burglar's identity was revealed, I jumped to the conclusion that +you had used me as an instrument to kill him, for I knew something +of the effects of amyl nitrite." + +"Great Heavens!" exclaimed Helen, aghast. + +Rochester looked at her and bit his lip; he knew of her affection +for Jimmie and her attachment to his memory, but he could not kill +the hope that when Time had healed the loss, his devotion might +some day win her for his own. + +"I did you great injustice," he admitted humbly. "But I was +fearfully shocked by the scene. I strove to divert suspicion by +insisting that Jimmie died from angina pectoris, and then you came, +Helen, and demanded an autopsy. + +"I had to," Helen broke in. "I could not believe that Jimmie's +death was due to natural causes," her voice quivered. "He had been +so loyal - so faithful - I could not be less true to him, even if, +as I feared, my own dear father was guilty of the crime. + +Kent turned and faced Sylvester, who had made a few shuffling steps +toward the door. + +"You have done incalculable harm by your criminal acts," he said +sternly. "But for your lying and trickery Jimmie Turnbull would be +alive to-day. I trust the Court will give you the maximum sentence." + +Sylvester eyed him insolently. "I've had a run for my money, and +I stood to win large sums if things had only gone right," he +announced; then addressed Helen directly. "What did you do with +the securities?" + +"I put the envelope back in the open safe when I was here early +this afternoon," she explained. + +An oath ripped from Sylvester. "I mistook you for your sister," +he snarled. "Had I known it was you, I'd have wrung the securities +from you." + +Helen stared at his suddenly contorted face. "Ah, you are the man +who looked in at the window of the reception room yesterday morning +when I was talking to Mr. Kent," she cried. "I recognize you now." + +He continued to glare at her. "I also sent you a note by your +sister outside the Caf St. Marks to secrete the letter 'B'," his +voice rose almost into a shout in his ungovernable rage. "I heard +Turnbull tell you to take the envelope to Rochester, and I banked +on your bringing it here or to his apartment. D-mn you! You've +thwarted me at every turn." + +Rochester's powerful hand was clapped across his mouth with such +force that the clerk staggered against Ferguson. + +"Here you, out you go." The detective shoved the struggling man +toward the door leading into the corridor and Clymer sprang to his +assistance; a second later Rochester closed the door on their +receding figures and found Helen standing by his elbow. + +"I must go," she said, turning back to look at her father and his +bride. + +"Wait a minute." Kent held up an envelope with its fateful red seal. +"This was delivered empty at Rochester's apartment last night - it +is addressed to him. Who wrote it?" + +"I did," exclaimed Mrs. McIntyre. "I felt I must consult either +you, Mr. Kent, or Mr. Rochester, so I sent the note to his apartment, +but the messenger boy hurried me, and it was not until hours later +that I found the note lying on the desk in the reception room and +realized I had sent an empty envelope." + +"I see." Kent held up another envelope, the red seal broken at the +corner. "This is yours, Helen." + +Helen hesitated perceptibly before taking the envelope and tearing +it open. She handed the securities to her father. + +"Here is father's forged confession," she said as she took the +remaining paper from the envelope. + +"It is a marvelous imitation of my handwriting," declared McIntyre, +looking at it carefully, then tearing it into tiny bits he flung +them into the scrap-basket and pocketed the securities. + +"And to think that I aided Sylvester's plot to gain the securities +by engaging him as our clerk," groaned Rochester. + +"It was clever of him to seek employment here," agreed Kent. "But +like many crooks he over-reached himself through over-confidence. +Must you go, Colonel McIntyre?" + +"Yes." McIntyre walked over to Helen. + +"My dear little girl," he began and his voice was husky with +feeling. "How can I show my appreciation of your loyalty to me?" + +"By being kind to Harry and Barbara." Helen smiled bravely, +although her lips were trembling and for a moment she could not +trust herself to speak. "My romance is over; Barbara's is just +beginning. And, father, will you and Margaret come home with me +- I am so lonely;" then turning blindly away she fairly ran out of +the office. + +"Go with her," said Rochester, a trifle unsteadily. "It has been +a terrible ordeal; God help her to forget!" His voice failed and +he swept his hand across his eyes as he held open the door into +the corridor and followed McIntyre and his wife outside. + +Kent turned impulsively to Barbara, and his arms closed around her +as she raised her eyes to meet his, for she knew that the promise +they spoke would be loyally fulfilled, and that her haven of love +and happiness was reached at last. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg Etext The Red Seal, by Natalie Sumner Lincoln + diff --git a/old/redsl10.zip b/old/redsl10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b6dfc5 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/redsl10.zip |