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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/2883-0.txt b/2883-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..8924d51 --- /dev/null +++ b/2883-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8731 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bag, by Carolyn Wells + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Gold Bag + +Author: Carolyn Wells + +Posting Date: December 14, 2008 [EBook #2883] +Release Date: October, 2001 +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAG *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer + + + + + +THE GOLD BAG + +By Carolyn Wells + + + +CONTENTS + + + +CHAPTER + + +I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK + +II. THE CRAWFORD HOUSE + +III. THE CORONER'S JURY + +IV. THE INQUEST + +V. FLORENCE LLOYD + +VI. THE GOLD BAG + +VII. YELLOW ROSES + +VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY + +IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE + +X. THE WILL + +XI. LOUIS'S STORY + +XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION + +XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE + +XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS. + +XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED + +XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS + +XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG + +XVIII. IN MR. GOODRICH'S OFFICE + +XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN + +XX. FLEMING STONE + +XXI. THE DISCLOSURE + + + + + +THE GOLD BAG + + + + +I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK + + +Though a young detective, I am not entirely an inexperienced one, and +I have several fairly successful investigations to my credit on the +records of the Central Office. + +The Chief said to me one day: “Burroughs, if there's a mystery to be +unravelled; I'd rather put it in your hands than to trust it to any +other man on the force. + +“Because,” he went on, “you go about it scientifically, and you +never jump at conclusions, or accept them, until they're indubitably +warranted.” + +I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief's kind words, but I was +secretly a bit chagrined. A detective's ambition is to be, considered +capable of jumping at conclusions, only the conclusions must always +prove to be correct ones. + +But though I am an earnest and painstaking worker, though my habits are +methodical and systematic, and though I am indefatigably patient and +persevering, I can never make those brilliant deductions from seemingly +unimportant clues that Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothing +but observation and logical inference, but to me it is little short of +clairvoyance. + +The smallest detail in the way of evidence immediately connotes in his +mind some important fact that is indisputable, but which would never +have occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a natural bent of his +brain, for I have not yet been able to achieve it, either by study or +experience. + +Of course I can deduce some facts, and my colleagues often say I am +rather clever at it, but they don't know Fleming Stone as well as I +do, and don't realize that by comparison with his talent mine is +insignificant. + +And so, it is both by way of entertainment, and in hope of learning from +him, that I am with him whenever possible, and often ask him to “deduce” + for me, even at risk of boring him, as, unless he is in the right mood, +my requests sometimes do. + +I met him accidentally one morning when we both chanced to go into a +basement of the Metropolis Hotel in New York to have our shoes shined. + +It was about half-past nine, and as I like to get to my office by ten +o'clock, I looked forward to a pleasant half-hour's chat with him. While +waiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, and, seeing a pair +of shoes standing on a table, evidently there to be cleaned, I said +banteringly: + +“Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those shoes, you can deduce all +there is to know about the owner of them.” + +I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, “From a drop of water, a +logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without +having seen or heard of one or the other,” but when I heard Fleming +Stone's reply to my half-laughing challenge, I felt that he had outdone +the mythical logician. With a mild twinkle in his eye, but with a +perfectly grave face, he said slowly, + +“Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet eight inches high. He does +not live in New York, but is here to visit his sweetheart. She lives in +Brooklyn, is five feet nine inches tall, and is deaf in her left ear. +They went to the theatre last night, and neither was in evening dress.” + +“Oh, pshaw!” said I, “as you are acquainted with this man, and know how +he spent last evening, your relation of the story doesn't interest me.” + +“I don't know him,” Stone returned; “I've no idea what his name is, +I've never seen him, and except what I can read from these shoes I know +nothing about him.” + +I stared at him incredulously, as I always did when confronted by his +astonishing “deductions,” and simply said, + +“Tell this little Missourian all about it.” + +“It did sound well, reeled off like that, didn't it?” he observed, +chuckling more at my air of eager curiosity than at his own achievement. +“But it's absurdly easy, after all. He is a young man because his shoes +are in the very latest, extreme, not exclusive style. He is five feet +eight, because the size of his foot goes with that height of man, which, +by the way, is the height of nine out of ten men, any way. He doesn't +live in New York or he wouldn't be stopping at a hotel. Besides, he +would be down-town at this hour, attending to business.” + +“Unless he has freak business hours, as you and I do,” I put in. + +“Yes, that might be. But I still hold that he doesn't live in New York, +or he couldn't be staying at this Broadway hotel overnight, and sending +his shoes down to be shined at half-past nine in the morning. His +sweetheart is five feet nine, for that is the height of a tall girl. +I know she is tall, for she wears a long skirt. Short girls wear short +skirts, which make them look shorter still, and tall girls wear very +long skirts, which make them look taller.” + +“Why do they do that?” I inquired, greatly interested. + +“I don't know. You'll have to ask that of some one wiser than I. But I +know it's a fact. A girl wouldn't be considered really tall if less than +five feet nine. So I know that's her height. She is his sweetheart, for +no man would go from New York to Brooklyn and bring a lady over here to +the theatre, and then take her home, and return to New York in the early +hours of the morning, if he were not in love with her. I know she lives +in Brooklyn, for the paper says there was a heavy shower there last +night, while I know no rain fell in New York. I know that they were out +in that rain, for her long skirt became muddy, and in turn muddied the +whole upper of his left shoe. The fact that only the left shoe is so +soiled proves that he walked only at her right side, showing that she +must be deaf in her left ear, or he would have walked part of the time +on that side. I know that they went to the theatre in New York, because +he is still sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots down to be +cleaned, instead of coming down with them on his feet to be shined here. +If he had been merely calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would have +been home early, for they do not sit up late in that borough. I know +they went to the theatre, instead of to the opera or a ball, for they +did not go in a cab, otherwise her skirt would not have become muddied. +This, too, shows that she wore a cloth skirt, and as his shoes are not +patent leathers, it is clear that neither was in evening dress.” + +I didn't try to get a verification of Fleming Stone's assertions; +I didn't want any. Scores of times I had known him to make similar +deductions and in cases where we afterward learned the facts, he was +invariably correct. So, though we didn't follow up this matter, I +was sure he was right, and, even if he hadn't been, it would not have +weighed heavily against his large proportion of proved successes. + +We separated then, as we took chairs at some distance from each other, +and, with a sigh of regret that I could never hope to go far along the +line in which Stone showed such proficiency, I began to read my morning +paper. + +Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nodding a good-by as +he passed me, and a moment after, my own foot-gear being in proper +condition, I, too, went out, and went straight to my office. + +As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt on Stone's quick-witted +work. Again I wished that I possessed the kind of intelligence that +makes that sort of thing so easy. Although unusual, it is, after all, a +trait of many minds, though often, perhaps, unrecognized and undeveloped +by its owner. I dare say it lies dormant in men who have never had +occasion to realize its value. Indeed, it is of no continuous value to +anyone but a detective, and nine detectives out of ten do not possess +it. + +So I walked along, envying my friend Stone his gift, and reached my +office just at ten o'clock as was my almost invariable habit. + +“Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!” cried my office-boy, as I opened the door. +“You're wanted on the telephone.” + +Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, some excitement had made him +a trifle unceremonious, and I looked at him curiously as I took up the +receiver. + +But with the first words I heard, the office-boy was forgotten, and my +own nerves received a shock as I listened to the message. It was from +the Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and the superintendent +himself was directing me to go at once to West Sedgwick, where a +terrible crime had just been discovered. + +“Killed!” I exclaimed; “Joseph Crawford?” + +“Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner telephoned to +send a detective at once and we want you to go.” + +“Of course I'll go. Do you know any more details?” + +“No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found this +morning. Mr. Crawford was a big man, you know. Go right off, Mr. +Burroughs; we want you to lose no time.” + +Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I knew +he was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death would mean +excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or home-life, I knew +nothing. + +“I'll go right off,” I assured the Chief, and turned away from the +telephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up trains in +a timetable. + +“Good boy, Don,” said I approvingly; “what's the next train to West +Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?” + +“You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a +taxi an' shoot the tunnel,” said Donovan, who was rather a graphic +conversationalist. “That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarter +of 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?” + +“So they tell me, Don. His death will mean something in financial +circles.” + +“Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. Burruz. When'll +you be back?” + +“Don't know, Don. You look after things.” + +“Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when you +have 'em.” + +By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he had +suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed the Chief's +orders to lose no time. + +Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could possibly +be to reach the scene of the crime before significant clues were +obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had experience +with the police of suburban towns, and I well knew their two principal +types. Either they were of a pompous, dignified demeanor, which covered +a bewildered ignorance, or else they were overzealous and worked with +a misdirected energy that made serious trouble for an intelligent +detective. Of course, of the two kinds I preferred the former, but the +danger was that I should encounter both. + +On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, +by endeavoring to “deduce” the station or occupation of my fellow +passengers. + +Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mild-faced gentleman, and from the +general, appearance of his head and hat I concluded he was a clergyman. +I studied him unostentatiously and tried to find some indication of the +denomination he might belong to, or the character of his congregation, +but as I watched, I saw him draw a sporting paper from his pocket, and +turning his hand, a hitherto unseen diamond flashed brilliantly from +his little finger. I hastily, revised my judgment, and turning slightly +observed the man who sat next me. Determined to draw only logical +inferences, I scrutinized his coat, that garment being usually highly +suggestive to our best regulated detectives. I noticed that while the +left sleeve was unworn and in good condition, the right sleeve was +frayed at the inside edge, and excessively smooth and shiny on the inner +forearm. Also the top button of the coat was very much worn, and the +next one slightly. + +“A-ha!” said I to myself, “I've nailed you, my friend. You're a +desk-clerk, and you write all day long, standing at a desk. The worn top +button rubs against your desk as you stand, which it would not do were +you seated.” + +With a pardonable curiosity to learn if I were right, I opened +conversation with the young man. He was not unwilling to respond, +and after a few questions I learned, to my chagrin, that he was a +photographer. Alas for my deductions! But surely, Fleming Stone himself +would not have guessed a photographer from a worn and shiny coat-sleeve. +At the risk of being rudely personal, I made some reference to fashions +in coats. The young man smiled and remarked incidentally, that owing to +certain circumstances he was at the moment wearing his brother's coat. + +“And is your brother a desk clerk?” inquired I almost involuntarily: + +He gave me a surprised glance, but answered courteously enough, “Yes;” + and the conversation flagged. + +Exultantly I thought that my deduction, though rather an obvious one, +was right; but after another furtive glance at the young man, I realized +that Stone would have known he was wearing another's coat, for it was +the most glaring misfit in every way. + +Once more I tried, and directed my attention to a middle-aged, +angular-looking woman, whose strong, sharp-featured face betokened a +prim spinster, probably at the head of a girls' school, or engaged in +some clerical work. However, as I passed her on my way to leave the +train I noticed a wedding-ring on her hand, and heard her say to her +companion, “No; I think a woman's sphere is in her own kitchen and +nursery. How could I think otherwise, with my six children to bring +up?” After these lamentable failures, I determined not to trust much to +deduction in the case I was about to investigate, but to learn actual +facts from actual evidence. + +I reached West Sedgwick, as Donovan had said, at quarter before eleven. +Though I had never been there before, the place looked quite as I had +imagined it. The railway station was one of those modern attractive +structures of rough gray stone, with picturesque projecting roof and +broad, clean platforms. A flight of stone steps led down to the roadway, +and the landscape in every direction showed the well-kept roads, the +well-grown trees and the carefully-tended estates of a town of suburban +homes. The citizens were doubtless mainly men whose business was in New +York, but who preferred not to live there. + +The superintendent must have apprised the coroner by telephone of my +immediate arrival, for a village cart from the Crawford establishment +was awaiting me, and a smart groom approached and asked if I were Mr. +Herbert Burroughs. + +A little disappointed at having no more desirable companion on my way to +the house, I climbed up beside the driver, and the groom solemnly took +his place behind. Not curiosity, but a justifiable desire to learn the +main facts of the case as soon as possible, led me to question the man +beside me. + +I glanced at him first and saw only the usual blank countenance of the +well-trained coachman. + +His face was intelligent, and his eyes alert, but his impassive +expression showed his habit of controlling any indication of interest in +people or things. + +I felt there would be difficulty in ingratiating myself at all, but I +felt sure that subterfuge would not help me, so I spoke directly. + +“You are the coachman of the late Mr. Crawford?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +I hadn't really expected more than this in words, but his tone was so +decidedly uninviting of further conversation that I almost concluded to +say nothing more. But the drive promised to be a fairly long one, so I +made another effort. + +“As the detective on this case, I wish to hear the story of it as soon +as I can. Perhaps you can give me a brief outline of what happened.” + +It was perhaps my straightforward manner, and my quite apparent +assumption of his intelligence, that made the man relax a little and +reply in a more conversational tone. + +“We're forbidden to chatter, sir,” he said, “but, bein' as you're the +detective, I s'pose there's no harm. But it's little we know, after +all. The master was well and sound last evenin', and this mornin' he was +found dead in his own office-chair.” + +“You mean a private office in his home?” + +“Yes, sir. Mr. Crawford went to his office in New York 'most every day, +but days when he didn't go, and evenin's and Sundays, he was much in his +office at home, sir.” + +“Who discovered the tragedy?” + +“I don't rightly know, sir, if it was Louis, his valet, or Lambert, the +butler, but it was one or t'other, sir.” + +“Or both together?” I suggested. + +“Yes, sir; or both together.” + +“Is any one suspected of the crime?” + +The man hesitated a moment, and looked as if uncertain what to reply, +then, as he set his jaw squarely, he said: + +“Not as I knows on, sir.” + +“Tell me something of the town,” I observed next, feeling that it was +better to ask no more vital questions of a servant. + +We were driving along streets of great beauty. Large and handsome +dwellings, each set in the midst of extensive and finely-kept grounds, +met the view on either aide. Elaborate entrances opened the way to wide +sweeps of driveway circling green velvety lawns adorned with occasional +shrubs or flower-beds. The avenues were wide, and bordered with trees +carefully set out and properly trimmed. The streets were in fine +condition, and everything betokened a community, not only wealthy, but +intelligent and public-spirited. Surely West Sedgwick was a delightful +location for the homes of wealthy New York business men. + +“Well, sir,” said the coachman, with unconcealed pride, “Mr. Crawford +was the head of everything in the place. His is the handsomest house and +the grandest grounds. Everybody respected him and looked up to him. He +hadn't an enemy in the world.” + +This was an opening for further conjecture as to the murderer, and I +said: “But the man who killed him must have been his enemy.” + +“Yes, sir; but I mean no enemy that anybody knew of. It must have been +some burglar or intruder.” + +Though I wanted to learn such facts as the coachman might know, his +opinions did not interest me, and I again turned my attention to the +beautiful residences we were passing. + +“That place over there,” the man went on, pointing with his whip, “is +Mr. Philip Crawford's house--the brother of my master, sir. Them red +towers, sticking up through the trees, is the house of Mr. Lemuel +Porter, a great friend of both the Crawford brothers. Next, on the left, +is the home of Horace Hamilton, the great electrician. Oh, Sedgwick is +full of well-known men, sir, but Joseph Crawford was king of this town. +Nobody'll deny that.” + +I knew of Mr. Crawford's high standing in the city, and now, learning +of his local preeminence, I began to think I was about to engage in what +would probably be a very important case. + + + + +II. THE CRAWFORD HOUSE + + +“Here we are, sir,” said the driver, as we turned in at a fine stone +gateway. “This is the Joseph Crawford place.” + +He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned that his +devotion to his late master was truly exceptional. + +This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and all its +appurtenances, for, to me, the estate was not so magnificent as some of +the others we had passed. And yet, though not so large, I soon realized +that every detail of art or architecture was perfect in its way, and +that it was really a gem of a country home to which I had been brought. + +We drove along a curving road to the house, passing well-arranged flower +beds, and many valuable trees and shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere the +driver stopped, and the groom sprang down to hand me out. + +As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking in +groups on the veranda, while messengers were seen hastily coming or +going through the open front doors. + +A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large room. + +The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As I +passed through the wide hall and into the drawing-room, I was conscious +of an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and judgment. + +The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemed +well adapted as a social setting for Joseph Crawford and his family. +It should have been inhabited by men and women in gala dress and with +smiling society manners. + +It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to be +a commonplace looking man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit. +He came forward to greet me, and his manner was a trifle pompous as he +announced, “My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, are +Mr. Burroughs, from New York.” + +It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination, but +his tone seemed to me amusingly patronizing. + +“Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs,” I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with what +I hoped was an expression that would assure him that our stations were +at least equal. + +I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that he +knew of my reputation as a clever detective, and had especially desired +my attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he still +kept up his air and tone of patronage, which however amused more than +irritated me. + +I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and I +knew that he was of a nature to be pleased with his own prominence +as coroner, especially in the case of so important a man as Joseph +Crawford. + +So I made allowance for this harmless conceit on his part, and was even +willing to cater to it a little by way of pleasing him. He seemed to me +a man, honest, but slow of thought; rather practical and serious, and +though overvaluing his own importance, yet not opinionated or stubborn. + +“Mr. Burroughs,” he said, “I'm very glad you could get here so promptly; +for the case seems to me a mysterious one, and the value of immediate +investigation cannot be overestimated.” + +“I quite agree with you,” I returned. “And now will you tell me the +principal facts, as you know them, or will you depute some one else to +do so?” + +“I am even now getting a jury together,” he said, “and so you will be +able to hear all that the witnesses may say in their presence. In the +meantime, if you wish to visit the scene of the crime, Mr. Parmalee will +take you there.” + +At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee stepped forward and was +introduced to me. He proved to be a local detective, a young man who +always attended Coroner Monroe on occasions like the present; but who, +owing to the rarity of such occasions in West Sedgwick, had had little +experience in criminal investigation. + +He was a young man of the type often seen among Americans. He was very +fair, with a pink complexion, thin, yellow hair and weak eyes. His +manner was nervously alert, and though he often began to speak with an +air of positiveness, he frequently seemed to weaken, and wound up his +sentences in a floundering uncertainty. + +He seemed to be in no way jealous of my presence there, and indeed spoke +to me with an air of comradeship. + +Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly resented this. However I +did not show my resentment and endeavored to treat Mr. Parmalee as a +friend and co-worker. + +The coroner had left us together, and we stood in the drawing-room, +talking, or rather he talked and I listened. Upon acquaintance he seemed +to grow more attractive. He was impulsive and jumped at conclusions, but +he seemed to have ideas, though they were rarely definitely expressed. + +He told me as much as he knew of the details of the affair and proposed +that we go directly to the scene of the crime. + +As this was what I was impatient to do, I consented. + +“You see, it's this way,” he said, in a confidential whisper, as we +traversed the long hall: “there is no doubt in any one's mind as to who +committed the murder, but no name has been mentioned yet, and nobody +wants to be the first to say that name. It'll come out at the inquest, +of course, and then--” + +“But,” I interrupted, “if the identity of the murderer is so certain, +why did they send for me in such haste?” + +“Oh, that was the coroner's doing. He's a bit inclined to the +spectacular, is Monroe, and he wants to make the whole affair as +important as possible.” + +“But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain of the criminal it is very +absurd for me to take up the case at all.” + +“Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name has been spoken yet. And, +too, a big case like this ought to have a city detective on it. Even +if you only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it will prove to the +public mind that it must be so.” + +“Tell me then, who is your suspect?” + +“Oh, no, since you are here you had better investigate with an +unprejudiced mind. Though you cannot help arriving at the inevitable +conclusion.” + +We had now reached a closed door, and, at Mr. Parmalee's tap, were +admitted by the inspector who was in charge of the room. + +It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and elaborate to be +designated by the name of “office,” as it was called by every one who +spoke of it; though of course it was Mr. Crawford's office, as was +shown by the immense table-desk of dark mahogany, and all the other +paraphernalia of a banker's work-room, from ticker to typewriter. + +But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the stained glass of the +windows, the pictures, rugs, and vases, all betokened luxurious tastes +that are rarely indulged in office furnishings. The room was flooded +with sunlight. Long French windows gave access to a side veranda, which +in turn led down to a beautiful terrace and formal garden. But all these +things were seen only in a hurried glance, and then my eyes fell on the +tragic figure in the desk chair. + +The body had not been moved, and would not be until after the jury had +seen it, and though a ghastly sight, because of a bullet-hole in the +left temple, otherwise it looked much as Mr. Crawford must have looked +in life. + +A handsome man, of large physique and strong, stern face, he must have +been surprised, and killed instantly; for surely, given the chance, +he would have lacked neither courage nor strength to grapple with an +assailant. + +I felt a deep impulse of sympathy for that splendid specimen of +humanity, taken unawares, without having been given a moment in which to +fight for his life, and yet presumably seeing his murderer, as he seemed +to have been shot directly from the front. + +As I looked at that noble face, serene and dignified in its death +pallor, I felt glad that my profession was such as might lead to the +avenging of such a detestable crime. + +And suddenly I had a revulsion of feeling against such petty methods as +deductions from trifling clues. + +Moreover I remembered my totally mistaken deductions of that very +morning. Let other detectives learn the truth by such claptrap means if +they choose. This case was too large and too serious to be allowed to +depend on surmises so liable to be mistaken. No, I would search for +real evidence, human testimony, reliable witnesses, and so thorough, +systematic, and persevering should my search be, that I would finally +meet with success. + +“Here's the clue,” said Parmelee's voice, as he grasped my arm and +turned me in another direction. + +He pointed to a glittering article on the large desk. + +It was a woman's purse, or bag, of the sort known as “gold-mesh.” + Perhaps six inches square, it bulged as if overcrowded with some +feminine paraphernalia. + +“It's Miss Lloyd's,” went on Parmalee. “She lives here, you know--Mr. +Crawford's niece. She's lived here for years and years.” + +“And you suspect her?” I said, horrified. + +“Well, you see, she's engaged to Gregory Hall he's Mr. Crawford's +secretary--and Mr. Crawford didn't approve of the match; and so--” + +He shrugged his shoulders in a careless fashion, as if for a woman to +shoot her uncle were an everyday affair. + +But I was shocked and incredulous, and said so. + +“Where is Miss Lloyd?” I asked. “Does she claim ownership of this gold +bag?” + +“No; of course not,” returned Parmalee. “She's no fool, Florence Lloyd +isn't! She's locked in her room and won't come out. Been there all the +morning. Her maid says this isn't Miss Lloyd's bag, but of course she'd +say that.” + +“Well, that question ought to be easily settled. What's in the bag?” + +“Look for yourself. Monroe and I ran through the stuff, but there's +nothing to say for sure whose bag it is.” + +I opened the pretty bauble, and let the contents fall out on the desk. + +A crumpled handkerchief, a pair of white kid gloves, a little trinket +known as a “vanity case,” containing a tiny mirror and a tinier powder +puff; a couple of small hair-pins, a newspaper clipping, and a few +silver coins were all that rewarded my trouble. + +Nothing definite, indeed, and yet I knew if Fleming Stone could look at +the little heap of feminine belongings, he would at once tell the fair +owner's age, height, and weight, if not her name and address. + +I had only recently assured myself that such deductions were of little +or no use, and yet, I could not help minutely examining the pretty +trifles lying on the desk. I scrutinized the handkerchief for a monogram +or an initial, but it had none. It was dainty, plain and fine, of sheer +linen, with a narrow hem. To me it indicated an owner of a refined, +feminine type, and absolutely nothing more. I couldn't help thinking +that even Fleming Stone could not infer any personal characteristics of +the lady from that blank square of linen. + +The vanity case I knew to be a fad of fashionable women, and had that +been monogrammed, it might have proved a clue. But, though pretty, it +was evidently not of any great value, and was merely such a trifle as +the average woman would carry about. + +And yet I felt exasperated that with so many articles to study, I could +learn nothing of the individual to whom they belonged. The gloves were +hopeless. Of a good quality and a medium size, they seemed to tell me +nothing. They were but slightly soiled, and apparently might have been +worn once or twice. They had never been cleaned, as the inside showed +no scrawled hieroglyphics. But all of these conclusions pointed nowhere +save to the average well-groomed American woman. + +The hair-pins and the silver money were equally bare of suggestion, but +I hopefully picked up the bit of newspaper. + +“Surely this newspaper clipping must throw some light,” I mused, but it +proved to be only the address of a dyeing and cleaning establishment in +New York City. + +“This is being taken care of?” I said, and the burly inspector, who up +to now had not spoken, said: + +“Yes, sir! Nobody touches a thing in this: room while I'm here. You, +sir, are of course an exception, but no one else is allowed to meddle +with anything.” + +This reminded me that as the detective in charge of this case, it was my +privilege--indeed, my duty--to examine the papers and personal effects +that were all about, in an effort to gather clues for future use. + +I was ignorant of many important details, and turned to Parmelee for +information. + +That young man however, though voluble, was, inclined to talk on only +one subject, the suspected criminal, Miss Florence Lloyd. + +“You see, it must be her bag. Because who else could have left it here? +Mrs. Pierce, the only other lady in the house, doesn't carry a youngish +bag like that. She'd have a black leather bag, more likely, or a-- or +a--” + +“Well, it really doesn't matter what kind of a bag Mrs. Pierce would +carry,” said I, a little impatiently; “the thing is to prove whether +this is Miss Lloyd's bag or not. And as it is certainly not a matter +of conjecture, but a matter of fact, I think we may leave it for the +present, and turn our attention to other matters.” + +I could see that Parmalee was disappointed that I had made no startling +deductions from my study of the bag and its contents, and, partly owing +to my own chagrin at this state of affairs, I pretended to consider the +bag of little consequence, and turned hopefully to an investigation of +the room. + +The right-hand upper drawer of the double-pedestalled desk was open. +Seemingly, Mr. Crawford had been engaged with its contents during the +latter moments of his life. + +At a glance, I saw the drawer contained exceedingly valuable and +important papers. + +With an air of authority, intentionally exaggerated for the purpose of +impressing Parmalee, I closed the drawer, and locked it with the key +already in the keyhole. + +This key was one of several on a key-ring, and, taking it from its +place, I dropped the whole bunch in my pocket. This action at once put +me in my rightful place. The two men watching me unconsciously assumed +a more deferential air, and, though they said nothing, I could see that +their respect for my authority had increased. + +Strangely enough, after this episode, a new confidence in my own powers +took possession of me, and, shaking off the apathy that had come over me +at sight of that dread figure in the chair, I set methodically to work +to examine the room. + +Of course I noted the position of the furniture, the state of the +window-fastenings, and such things in a few moments. The many filing +cabinets and indexed boxes, I glanced at, and locked those that had keys +or fastenings. + +The inspector sat with folded hands watching me with interest but saying +nothing. Parmalee, on the other hand, kept up a running conversation, +sometimes remarking lightly on my actions, and again returning to the +subject of Miss Lloyd. + +“I can see,” he said, “that you naturally dislike to suspect a woman, +and a young woman too. But you don't know Miss Lloyd. She is haughty +and wilful. And as I told you, nobody has mentioned her yet in this +connection. But I am speaking to you alone, and I have no reason to +mince matters. And you know Florence Lloyd is not of the Crawford +stock. The Crawfords are a fine old family, and not one of them could +be capable of crime. But Miss Lloyd is on the other side of the house, +a niece of Mrs. Crawford; and I've heard that the Lloyd stock is not all +that could be desired. There is a great deal in heredity, and she may +not be responsible...” + +I paid little attention to Parmalee's talk, which was thrown at me in +jerky, desultory sentences, and interested me not at all. I went on with +my work of investigation, and though I did not get down on my knees and +examine every square inch of the carpet with a lens, yet I thoroughly +examined all of the contents of the room. I regret to say, however, that +I found nothing that seemed to be a clue to the murderer. + +Stepping out on the veranda, I looked for footprints. The “light snow” + usually so helpful to a detective had not fallen, as it was April, and +rather warm for the season. But I found many heel marks, apparently of +men's boots; yet they were not necessarily of very recent date, and I +don't think much of foot-print clues, anyhow. + +Then I examined the carpet, or, rather, the several rugs which +ornamented the beautiful polished floor. + +I found nothing but two petals of a pale yellow rose. They were +crumpled, but not dry or withered, and could not have been long detached +from the blossom on which they grew. + +Parmalee chanced to have his back toward me as I spied them, and +I picked them up and put them away in my pocket-book without his +knowledge. If the stolid inspector saw me, he made no sign. Indeed, +I think he would have said nothing if I had carried off the big desk +itself. I looked round the room for a bouquet or vase of flowers from +which the petals might have fallen, but none was there. + +This far I had progressed when I heard steps in the hall, and a moment +later the coroner ushered the six gentlemen of his jury into the room. + + + + +III. THE CORONER'S JURY + + +It was just as the men came in at the door, that I chanced to notice a +newspaper that lay on a small table. I picked it up with an apparent air +of carelessness, and, watching my chance, unobserved by Parmalee, I put +the paper away in a drawer, which I locked. + +The six men, whom Coroner Monroe named over to me, by way of a brief +introduction, stepped silently as they filed past the body of their late +friend and neighbor. + +For the jurymen had been gathered hastily from among the citizens of +West Sedgwick who chanced to be passing; and as it was after eleven +o'clock, they were, for the most part, men of leisure, and occupants of +the handsome homes in the vicinity. + +Probably none of them had ever before been called to act on a coroner's +jury, and all seemed impressed with the awfulness of the crime, as well +as imbued with a personal sense of sorrow. + +Two of the jurors had been mentioned to me by name, by the coachman +who brought me from the station. Horace Hamilton and Lemuel Porter were +near-by neighbors of the murdered man, and; I judged from their remarks, +were rather better acquainted with him than were the others. + +Mr. Hamilton was of the short, stout, bald-headed type, sometimes called +aldermanic. It was plainly to be seen that his was a jocund nature, and +the awe which he felt in this dreadful presence of death, though clearly +shown on his rubicund face, was evidently a rare emotion with him. +He glanced round the room as if expecting to see everything there +materially changed, and though he looked toward the figure of Mr. +Crawford now and then, it was with difficulty, and he averted his +eyes as quickly as possible. He was distinctly nervous, and though +he listened to the remarks of Coroner Monroe and the other jurors, he +seemed impatient to get away. + +Mr. Porter, in appearance, was almost the exact reverse of Mr. Hamilton. +He was a middle-aged man with the iron gray hair and piercing dark eyes +that go to make up what is perhaps the handsomest type of Americans. He +was a tall man, strong, lean and sinewy, with a bearing of dignity and +decision. Both these men were well-dressed to the point of affluence, +and, as near neighbor and intimate friends of the dead man, they seemed +to prefer to stand together and a little apart from the rest. + +Three more of the jurors seemed to me not especially noticeable in any +way. They looked as one would expect property owners in West Sedgwick to +look. They listened attentively to what Mr. Monroe said, asked few or no +questions, and seemed appalled at the unusual task they had before them. + +Only one juror impressed me unpleasantly. That was Mr. Orville, a +youngish man, who seemed rather elated at the position in which he found +himself. He fingered nearly everything on the desk; he peered carefully +into the face of the victim of the crime, and he somewhat ostentatiously +made notes in a small Russia leather memorandum book. + +He spoke often to the coroner, saying things which seemed to me +impertinent, such as, “Have you noticed the blotter, Mr. Coroner? Very +often, you know, much may be learned from the blotter on a man's desk.” + +As the large blotter in question was by no means fresh, indeed was +thickly covered with ink impressions, and as there was nothing to +indicate that Mr. Crawford had been engaged in writing immediately +before his death, Mr. Orville's suggestion was somewhat irrelevant. And, +too, the jurors were not detectives seeking clues, but were now merely +learning the known facts. + +However, Mr. Orville fussed around, even looking into the wastebasket, +and turning up a corner of a large rug as if ferreting for evidence. + +The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, and, after a few moments, +they followed the coroner out of the room. + +Then the doctor and his assistants came to take the body away, and +I went in search of Coroner Monroe, eager for further information +concerning the case, of which I really, as yet, knew but little. + +Parmalee went with me and we found Mr. Monroe in the library, quite +ready to talk with us. + +“Mr. Orville seems to possess the detective instinct himself,” observed +Mr. Parmalee, with what seemed like a note of jealousy in his tone. + +“The true detective mind,” returned Mr. Monroe, with his slow pomposity, +“is not dependent on instinct or intuition.” + +“Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that,” I said, “or where does it +differ from the ordinary inquiring mind?” + +“I'm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Burroughs,” the coroner went on, +almost as if I had not spoken, “that it depends upon a nicely adjusted +mentality that is quick to see the cause back of an effect.” + +To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, but there was +something in the unctuous roll of Mr. Monroe's words that made me +positive he was quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had not himself +a perfectly clear comprehension of its meaning. + +“It's guessing,” declared Parmalee, “that's all it is, guessing. If you +guess right, you're a famous detective; if you guess wrong, you're a +dub. That's all there is about it.” + +“No, no, Mr. Parmalee,”--and Mr. Monroe slowly shook his finger at the +rash youth--“what you call guessing is really divination. Yes, my dear +sir, it is actual divination.” + +“To my mind,” I put in, “detective divination is merely minute +observation. But why do we quibble over words and definitions when there +is much work to be done? When is the formal inquest to be held, Mr. +Monroe?” + +“This afternoon at two o'clock,” he replied. + +“Then I'll go away now,” I said, “for I must find an abiding place for +myself in West Sedgwick. There is an inn, I suppose.” + +“They'll probably ask you to stay here,” observed Coroner Monroe, “but +I advise you not to do so. I think you'll be freer and less hampered in +your work if you go to the inn.” + +“I quite agree with you,” I replied. “But I see little chance of being +invited to stay here. Where is the family? Who are in it?” + +“Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, a niece of Mr. Crawford. That +is, she is the niece of his wife. Mrs. Crawford has been dead many +years, and Miss Lloyd has kept house for her uncle all that time. Then +there is Mrs. Pierce, an elderly lady and a distant relative of Mr. +Crawford's. That is all, except the secretary, Gregory Hall, who lives +here much of the time. That is, he has a room here, but often he is in +New York or elsewhere on Mr. Crawford's business.” + +“Mr. Crawford had an office both here and in New York?” I asked. + +“Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home as much as possible. +He went to New York only about three or four days in the week, and +conducted his business from here the rest of the time. Young Hall is a +clever fellow, and has been Mr. Crawford's righthand man for years.” + +“Where is he now?” + +“We think he's in New York, but haven't yet been able to locate him +at Mr. Crawford's office there, or at his club. He is engaged to Miss +Lloyd, though I understand that the engagement is contrary to Mr. +Crawford's wishes.” + +“And where is Miss Lloyd,--and Mrs. Pierce?” + +“They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce is prostrated at the tragedy, +and Miss Lloyd simply refuses to make her appearance.” + +“But she'll have to attend the inquest?” + +“Oh, yes, of course. She'll be with us then. I think I won't say +anything about her to you, as I'd rather you'd see her first with +entirely unprejudiced eyes.” + +“So you, too, think Miss Lloyd is implicated?” + +“I don't think anything about it, Mr. Burroughs. As coroner it is not my +place to think along such lines.” + +“Well, everybody else thinks so,” broke in Parmalee. “And why? Because +there's no one else for suspicion to light on. No one else who by any +possibility could have done the deed.” + +“Oh, come now, Mr. Parmalee,” said I, “there must be others. They may +not yet have come to our notice, but surely you must admit an intruder +could have come into the room by way of those long, open windows.” + +“These speculations are useless, gentlemen,” said Mr. Monroe, with +his usual air of settling the matter. “Cease then, I beg, or at least +postpone them. If you are walking down the avenue, Mr. Parmalee, perhaps +you'll be good enough to conduct Mr. Burroughs to the Sedgwick Arms, +where he doubtless can find comfortable accommodations.” + +I thanked Mr. Monroe for the suggestion, but said, straightforwardly +enough, that I was not yet quite ready to leave the Crawford house, but +that I would not detain Mr. Parmalee, for I could myself find my way to +the inn, having noticed it on my drive from the train. + +So Parmalee went away, and I was about to return to Mr. Crawford's +office where I hoped to pursue a little uninterrupted investigation. + +But Mr. Monroe detained me a moment, to present me to a tall, +fine-looking man who had just come in. + +He proved to be Philip Crawford, a brother of Joseph, and I at once +observed a strong resemblance between their two faces. + +“I am glad to meet you, Mr. Burroughs,” he said. “Mr. Monroe tells me +you are a clever and experienced detective, and I trust you can help us +to avenge this dastardly crime. I am busy with some important matters +just now, but later I shall be glad to confer with you, and be of any +help I can in your investigation.” + +I looked at Mr. Philip Crawford curiously. Of course I didn't expect him +to give way to emotional grief, but it jarred on me to hear him refer +to his brother's tragic death in such cold tones, and with such a +businesslike demeanor. + +However, I realized I did not know the man at all, and this attitude +might be due to his effort in concealing his real feelings. + +He looked very like his brother Joseph, and I gathered from the +appearance of both men, and the manner of Philip, that the Crawford +nature was one of repression and self-control. Moreover, I knew nothing +of the sentiments of the two brothers, and it might easily be that they +were not entirely in sympathy. + +I thanked him for his offer of help, and then as he volunteered no +further observations, I excused myself and proceeded alone to the +library. + +As I entered the great room and closed the door behind me, I was again +impressed by the beauty and luxury of the appointments. Surely Joseph +Crawford must have been a man of fine calibre and refined tastes to +enjoy working in such an atmosphere. But I had only two short hours +before the inquest, and I had many things to do, so for the moment I +set myself assiduously to work examining the room again. As in my first +examination, I did no microscopic scrutinizing; but I looked over the +papers on and in the desk, I noted conditions in the desk of Mr. Hall, +the secretary, and I paid special attention to the position of the +furniture and windows, my thoughts all directed to an intruder from +outside on Mr. Crawford's midnight solitude. + +I stepped through the long French window on to the veranda, and after +a thorough examination of the veranda, I went on down the steps to the +gravel walk. Against a small rosebush, just off the walk, I saw a small +slip of pink paper. I picked it up, hardly daring to hope it might be a +clue, and I saw it was a trolley transfer, whose punched holes indicated +that it had been issued the evening before. It might or might not be +important as evidence, but I put it carefully away in my note-book for +later consideration. + +Returning to the library I took the newspaper which I had earlier +discovered from the drawer where I had hidden it, and after one more +swift but careful glance round the room, I went away, confident that I +had not done my work carelessly. + +I left the Crawford house and walked along the beautiful avenue to the +somewhat pretentious inn bearing the name of Sedgwick Arms. + +Here, as I had been led to believe, I found pleasant, even luxurious +accommodations. The landlord of the inn was smiling and pleasant, +although landlord seems an old-fashioned term to apply to the very +modern and up-to-date man who received me. + +His name was Carstairs, and he had the genial, perceptive manner of a +man about town. + +“Dastardly shame!” he exclaimed, after he had assured himself of my +identity. “Joseph Crawford was one of our best citizens, one of our +finest men. He hadn't an enemy in the world, my dear Mr. Burroughs--not +an enemy! generous, kindly nature, affable and friendly with all.” + +“But I understand he frowned on his ward's love affair, Mr. Carstairs.” + +“Yes; yes, indeed. And who wouldn't? Young Hall is no fit mate for +Florence Lloyd. He's a fortune-hunter. I know the man, and his only +ambition is the aggrandizement of his own precious self.” + +“Then you don't consider Miss Lloyd concerned in this crime?” + +“Concerned in crime? Florence Lloyd! why, man, you must be crazy! The +idea is unthinkable!” + +I was sorry I had spoken, but I remembered too late that the suspicions +which pointed toward Miss Lloyd were probably known only to those who +had been in the Crawford house that morning. As for the townspeople in +general, though they knew of the tragedy, they knew very little of its +details. + +I hastened to assure Mr. Carstairs that I had never seen Miss Lloyd, +that I had formed no opinions whatever, and that I was merely repeating +what were probably vague and erroneous suspicions of mistakenly-minded +people. + +At last, behind my locked door, I took from my pocket the newspaper I +had brought from Mr. Crawford's office. + +It seemed to me important, from the fact that it was an extra, published +late the night before. + +An Atlantic liner had met with a serious accident, and an extra had been +hastily put forth by one of the most enterprising of our evening papers. +I, myself, had bought one of these extras, about midnight; and the +finding of a copy in the office of the murdered man might prove a clue +to the criminal. + +I then examined carefully the transfer slip I had picked up on the +Crawford lawn. It had been issued after nine o'clock the evening before. +This seemed to me to prove that the holder of that transfer must have +been on the Crawford property and near the library veranda late last +night, and it seemed to me that this was plain common-sense reasoning, +and not mere intuition or divination. The transfer might have a simple +and innocent explanation, but until I could learn of that, I should hold +it carefully as a possible clue. + + + + +IV. THE INQUEST + + +Shortly before two o'clock I was back at the Crawford house and found +the large library, where the inquest was to be held, already well filled +with people. I took an inconspicuous seat, and turned my attention +first to the group that comprised, without a doubt, the members of Mr. +Crawford's household. + +Miss Lloyd--for I knew at a glance the black-robed young woman must be +she--was of a striking personality. Tall, large, handsome, she could +have posed as a model for Judith, Zenobia, or any of the great and +powerful feminine characters in history. I was impressed not so much by +her beauty as by her effect of power and ability. I had absolutely no +reason, save Parmalee's babblings, to suspect this woman of crime, but +I could not rid myself of a conviction that she had every appearance of +being capable of it. + +Yet her face was full of contradictions. The dark eyes were haughty, +even imperious; but the red, curved mouth had a tender expression, and +the chin, though firm and decided-looking, yet gave an impression of +gentleness. + +On the whole, she fascinated me by the very mystery of her charm, and I +found my eyes involuntarily returning again and again to that beautiful +face. + +She was dressed in a black, trailing gown of material which I think is +called China crepe. It fell around her in soft waving folds and lay in +little billows on the floor. Her dark hair was dressed high on her head, +and seemed to form a sort of crown which well suited her regal type. She +held her head high, and the uplift of her chin seemed to be a natural +characteristic. + +Good birth and breeding spoke in every phase of her personality, and in +her every movement and gesture. I remembered Parmalee's hint of unworthy +ancestors, and cast it aside as impossible of belief. She spoke seldom, +but occasionally turned to the lady at her side with a few murmured +words that were indubitably those of comfort or encouragement. + +Her companion, a gray-haired, elderly lady, was, of course, Mrs. Pierce. +She was trembling with the excitement of the occasion, and seemed to +depend on Florence Lloyd's strong personality and affectionate sympathy +to keep her from utter collapse. + +Mrs. Pierce was of the old school of gentlewomen. Her quiet, black gown +with its crepe trimmings, gave, even to my masculine eye an effect of +correct and fashionable, yet quiet and unostentatious mourning garb. + +She had what seemed to me a puzzling face. It did not suggest strength +of character, for the soft old cheeks and quivering lips indicated no +strong self-control, and yet from her sharp, dark eyes she now and +again darted glances that were unmistakably those of a keen and positive +personality. + +I concluded that hers was a strong nature, but shaken to its foundation +by the present tragedy. There was, without doubt, a great affection +existing between her and Miss Lloyd, and yet I felt that they were not +in each other's complete confidence. + +Though, for that matter, I felt intuitively that few people possessed +the complete confidence of Florence Lloyd. Surely she was a wonderful +creature, and as I again allowed myself to gaze on her beautiful face I +was equally convinced of the possibility of her committing a crime and +the improbability of her doing so. + +Near these two sat a young man who, I was told, was Gregory Hall, the +secretary. He had been reached by telephone, and had come out from New +York, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford house. + +Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average type of young American +citizens. He was fairly good-looking, fairly well-groomed, and so far +as I could judge from his demeanor, fairly well-bred. His dark hair was +commonplace, and parted on the side, while his small, carefully arranged +mustache was commonplace also. He looked exactly what he was, the +trusted secretary of a financial magnate, and he seemed to me a man +whose dress, manner, and speech would always be made appropriate to the +occasion or situation. In fact, so thoroughly did he exhibit just such +a demeanor as suited a confidential secretary at the inquest of his +murdered employer, that I involuntarily thought what a fine undertaker +he would have made. For, in my experience, no class of men so perfectly +adapt themselves to varying atmospheres as undertakers. + +Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic looking young chap, were also +in this group. Young Crawford inherited to a degree the fine appearance +of his father and uncle, and bade fair to become the same kind of a +first-class American citizen as they. + +Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the procedure, +were gathered the several servants of the house. + +Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed. + +The man was a somewhat pompous, middle-aged Englishman, and though of +stolid appearance, his face showed what might perhaps be described as an +intelligent stupidity. + +After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, the +coroner asked him to tell his own story of the early morning. + +In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the man +capable of, he detailed his discovery of his master's body. + +“I came down-stairs at seven this morning,” he said, “as I always do. I +opened the house, I saw the cook a few moments about matters pertaining +to breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. At about half-past +seven I went to Mr. Crawford's office, to set it in order for the day, +and as I opened the door I saw him sitting in his chair. At first I +thought he'd dropped asleep there, and been there all night, then in a +moment I saw what had happened.” + +“Well, what did you do next?” asked the coroner, as the man paused. + +“I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's valet. He was just coming +down the stairs. He looked surprised, for he said Mr. Crawford was not +in his room, and his bed hadn't been slept in.” + +“Did he seem alarmed?” + +“No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. But he +seemed agitated, for of course it was most unusual not finding Mr. +Crawford in his own room.” + +“How did Louis show his agitation?” broke in Mr. Orville. + +“Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated,--he looked more blank, +yes, as you might say, blank.” + +“Was he trembling?” persisted Mr. Orville, “was he pale?” and the +coroner frowned slightly at this juror's repeated inquisitiveness. + +“Louis is always pale,” returned the butler, seeming to make an effort +to speak the exact truth. + +“Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the matter,” Mr. +Orville said, with an air of one saying something of importance. + +“He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's death,” + said Lambert, looking disturbed and a little bewildered. + +“Tell your own story, Lambert,” said Coroner Monroe, rather crisply. +“We'll hear what Louis has to say later.” + +“Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the--the +accident, and we wondered what to do. I was for telephoning right off +to Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we'd better tell Miss Florence +about it.” + +“And did you?” + +“We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, was on +the stairs. So we told her, and told her to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask her +for orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor Fairchild, +and so we did. He came as soon as he could, and he's been in charge ever +since, sir.” + +“A straightforward story, clearly told,” observed the coroner, and then +he called upon Louis, the valet. This witness, a young Frenchman, was +far more nervous and excited than the calm-mannered butler, but the gist +of his story corroborated Lambert's. + +Asked if he was not called upon to attend his master at bedtime, he +replied, + +“Non, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford sat late in his library, or his +office, he dismiss me and say I may go to bed, or whatever I like. +Almost alway he tell me that.” + +“And he told you this last night?” + +“But yes. When I lay out his clothes for dinner, he then tell me so.” + +Although the man seemed sure enough of his statements he was evidently +troubled in his mind. It might have been merely that his French nature +was more excitable than the stolid indifference of the English butler. +But at the same time I couldn't help feeling that the man had not +told all he knew. This was merely surmise on my part, and I could not +persuade myself that there was enough ground for it to call it even an +intuition. So I concluded it best to ask no questions of the valet at +present, but to look into his case later. + +Parmalee, however, seemed to have concluded differently. He looked at +Louis with an intent gaze as he said, “Had your master said or done +anything recently to make you think he was despondent or troubled in any +way?” + +“No, sir,” said the man; but the answer was not spontaneous, and Louis's +eyes rolled around with an expression of fear. I was watching him +closely myself, and I could not help seeing that against his will his +glance sought always Florence Lloyd, and though he quickly averted it, +he was unable to refrain from furtive, fleeting looks in her direction. + +“Do you know anything more of this matter than you have told us?” + inquired the coroner of the witness. + +“No, sir,” replied Louis, and this time he spoke as with more certainty. +“After Lambert and I came out of Mr. Crawford's office, we did just +exactly as Lambert has tell you.” + +“That's all, Louis.... But, Lambert, one other matter. Tell us all you +know of Mr. Joseph Crawford's movements last evening.” + +“He was at dinner, as usual, sir,” said the butler, in his monotonous +drawl. “There were no guests, only the family. After dinner Mr. Crawford +went out for a time. He returned about nine o'clock. I saw him come in, +with his own key, and I saw him go to his office. Soon after Mr. Porter +called.” + +“Mr. Lemuel Porter?” asked the coroner. + +“Yes, sir,” said the butler; and Mr. Porter, who was one of the jurors, +gravely nodded his head in acquiescence. + +“He stayed until about ten, I should say,” went on the butler, and again +Mr. Porter gave an affirmative nod. “I let him out myself,” went on +Lambert, “and soon after that I went to the library to see if Mr. +Crawford had any orders for me. He told me of some household matters he +wished me to attend to to-day, and then he said he would sit up for +some time longer, and I might go to bed if I liked. A very kind and +considerate man, sir, was Mr. Crawford.” + +“And did you then go to bed?” + +“Yes, sir. I locked up all the house, except the office. Mr. Crawford +always locks those windows himself, when he sits up late. The ladies +had already gone to their rooms; Mr. Hall was away for the night, so +I closed up the front of the house, and went to bed. That's all I know +about the matter, sir--until I came down-stairs this morning.” + +“You heard no sound in the night--no revolver shot?” + +“No, sir. But my room is on the third floor, and at the other end of the +house, sir. I couldn't hear a shot fired in the office, I'm sure, sir.” + +“And you found no weapon of any sort in the office this morning?” + +“No, sir; Louis and I both looked for that, but there was none in the +room. Of that I'm sure, sir.” + +“That will do, Lambert.” + +“Yes, sir; thank you, sir.” + +“One moment,” said I, wishing to know the exact condition of the house +at midnight. “You say, Lambert, you closed up the front of the house. +Does that mean there was a back door open?” + +“It means I locked the front door, sir, and put the chain on. The +library door opening on to the veranda I did not lock, for, as I said, +Mr. Crawford always locks that and the windows in there when he is there +late. The back door I left on the night latch, as Louis was spending the +evening out.” + +“Oh, Louis was spending the evening out, was he?” exclaimed Mr. Orville. +“I think that should be looked into, Mr. Coroner. Louis said nothing of +this in his testimony.” + +Coroner Monroe turned again to Louis and asked him where he was the +evening before. + +The man was now decidedly agitated, but by an effort he controlled +himself and answered steadily enough: + +“I have tell you that Mr. Crawford say I may go wherever I like. And so, +last evening I spend with a young lady.” + +“At what time did you go out?” + +“At half after the eight, sir.” + +“And what time did you return?” + +“I return about eleven.” + +“And did you then see a light in Mr. Crawford's office?” + +Louis hesitated a moment. It could easily be seen that he was pausing +only to enable himself to speak naturally and clearly, but it was only +after one of those darting glances at Miss Lloyd that he replied: + +“I could not see Mr. Crawford's office, because I go around the other +side of the house. I make my entree by the back door; I go straight to +my room, and I know nothing of my master until I go to his room this +morning and find him not there.” + +“Then you didn't go to his room last night on your return?” + +“As I pass his door, I see it open, and his light low, so I know he is +still below stair.” + +“And you did not pass by the library on your way round the house?” + +Louis's face turned a shade whiter than usual, but he said distinctly, +though in a low voice, “No, sir.” + +An involuntary gasp as of amazement was heard, and though I looked +quickly at Miss Lloyd, it was not she who had made the sound. It was one +of the maidservants, a pretty German girl, who sat behind Miss Lloyd. No +one else seemed to notice it, and I realized it was not surprising that +the strain of the occasion should thus disturb the girl. + +“You heard Louis come in, Lambert?” asked Mr. Monroe, who was conducting +the whole inquiry in a conversational way, rather than as a formal +inquest. + +“Yes, sir; he came in about eleven, and went directly to his room.” + +The butler stood with folded hands, a sad expression in his eyes, but +with an air of importance that seemed to be inseparable from him, in any +circumstances. + +Doctor Fairchild was called as the next witness. + +He testified that he had been summoned that morning at about quarter +before eight o'clock. He had gone immediately to Mr. Crawford's house, +was admitted by the butler, and taken at once to the office. He found +Mr. Crawford dead in his chair, shot through the left temple with a +thirty-two calibre revolver. + +“Excuse me,” said Mr. Lemuel Porter, who, with the other jurors, was +listening attentively to all the testimony. “If the weapon was not +found, how do you know its calibre?” + +“I extracted the bullet from the wound,” returned Doctor Fairchild, “and +those who know have pronounced it to be a ball fired from a small pistol +of thirty-two calibre.” + +“But if Mr. Crawford had committed suicide, the pistol would have been +there,” said Mr. Porter; who seemed to be a more acute thinker than the +other jurymen. + +“Exactly,” agreed the coroner. “That's why we must conclude that Mr. +Crawford did not take his own life.” + +“Nor would he have done so,” declared Doctor Fairchild. “I have known +the deceased for many years. He had no reason for wishing to end his +life, and, I am sure, no inclination to do so. He was shot by an alien +hand, and the deed was probably committed at or near midnight.” + +“Thus we assume,” the coroner went on, as the doctor finished his simple +statement and resumed his seat, “that Mr. Crawford remained in his +office, occupied with his business matters, until midnight or later, +when some person or persons came into his room, murdered him, and went +away again, without making sufficient noise or disturbance to arouse the +sleeping household.” + +“Perhaps Mr. Crawford himself had fallen asleep in his chair,” suggested +one of the jurors,--the Mr. Orville, who was continually taking notes in +his little book. + +“It is possible,” said the doctor, as the remark was practically +addressed to him, “but not probable. The attitude in which the body was +found indicates that the victim was awake, and in full possession of his +faculties. Apparently he made no resistance of any sort.” + +“Which seems to show,” said the coroner, “that his assailant was not a +burglar or tramp, for in that case he would surely have risen and tried +to put him out. The fact that Mr. Crawford was evidently shot by a +person standing in front of him, seems to imply that that person's +attitude was friendly, and that the victim had no suspicion of the +danger that threatened him.” + +This was clear and logical reasoning, and I looked at the coroner in +admiration, until I suddenly remembered Parmalee's hateful suspicion and +wondered if Coroner Monroe was preparing for an attack upon Miss Lloyd. + +Gregory Hall was summoned next. + +He was self-possessed and even cool in his demeanor. There was a frank +manner about him that pleased me, but there was also a something which +repelled me. + +I couldn't quite explain it to myself, but while he had an air of +extreme straightforwardness, there was also an indefinable effect +of reserve. I couldn't help feeling that if this man had anything to +conceal, he would be quite capable of doing so under a mask of great +outspokenness. + +But, as it turned out, he had nothing either to conceal or reveal, for +he had been away from West Sedgwick since six o'clock the night before, +and knew nothing of the tragedy until he heard of it by telephone at Mr. +Crawford's New York office that morning about half-past ten. This +made him of no importance as a witness, but Mr. Monroe asked him a few +questions. + +“You left here last evening, you say?” + +“On the six o'clock train to New York, yes.” + +“For what purpose?” + +“On business for Mr. Crawford.” + +“Did that business occupy you last evening?” + +Mr. Hall looked surprised at this question, but answered quietly + +“No; I was to attend to the business to-day. But I often go to New York +for several days at a time.” + +“And where were you last evening?” pursued the coroner. + +This time Mr. Hall looked more surprised still, and said + +“As it has no bearing on the matter in hand, I prefer not to answer that +rather personal question.” + +Mr. Monroe looked surprised in his turn, and said: “I think I must +insist upon an answer, Mr. Hall, for it is quite necessary that we learn +the whereabouts of every member of this household last evening.” + +“I cannot agree with you, sir,” said Gregory Hall, coolly; “my +engagements for last evening were entirely personal matters, in no way +connected with Mr. Crawford's business. As I was not in West Sedgwick +at the time my late employer met his death, I cannot see that my private +affairs need be called into question.” + +“Quite so, quite so,” put in Mr. Orville; but Lemuel Porter interrupted +him. + +“Not at all so. I agree with Mr. Monroe, that Mr. Hall should frankly +tell us where he spent last evening.” + +“And I refuse to do so,” said Mr. Hall, speaking not angrily, but with +great decision. + +“Your refusal may tend to direct suspicion toward yourself, Mr. Hall,” + said the coroner. + +Gregory Hall smiled slightly. “As I was out of town, your suggestion +sounds a little absurd. However, I take that risk, and absolutely refuse +to answer any questions save those which relate to the matter in hand.” + +Coroner Monroe looked rather helplessly at his jurors, but as none of +them said anything further, he turned again to Gregory Hall. + +“The telephone message you received this morning, then, was the first +knowledge you had of Mr. Crawford's death?” + +“It was.” + +“And you came out here at once?” + +“Yes; on the first train I could catch.” + +“I am sorry you resent personal questions, Mr. Hall, for I must ask you +some. Are you engaged to Mr. Crawford's niece, Miss Lloyd?” + +“I am.” + +This answer was given in a low, quiet tone, apparently without emotion +of any kind, but Miss Lloyd showed, a different attitude. At the +words of Gregory Hall, she blushed, dropped her eyes, fingered her +handkerchief nervously, and evinced just such embarrassment as might be +expected from any young woman, in the event of a public mention of her +betrothal. And yet I had not looked for such an exhibition from Florence +Lloyd. Her very evident strength of character would seem to preclude the +actions of an inexperienced debutante. + +“Did Mr. Crawford approve of your engagement to his niece?” pursued Mr. +Monroe. + +“With all due respect, Mr. Coroner,” said Gregory Hall, in his subdued +but firm way, “I cannot think these questions are relevant or pertinent. +Unless you can assure me that they are, I prefer not to reply.” + +“They are both relevant and pertinent to the matter in hand, Mr. Hall; +but I am now of the opinion that they would better be asked of another +witness. You are excused. I now call Miss Florence Lloyd.” + + + + +V. FLORENCE LLOYD + + +A stir was perceptible all through the room as Miss Lloyd acknowledged +by a bow of her beautiful head the summons of the coroner. + +The jurors looked at her with evident sympathy and admiration, and I +remembered that as they were fellow-townsmen and neighbors they probably +knew the young woman well, and she was doubtless a friend of their own +daughters. + +It seemed as if such social acquaintance must prejudice them in her +favor, and perhaps render them incapable of unbiased judgment, should +her evidence be incriminating. But in my secret heart, I confess, I felt +glad of this. I was glad of anything that would keep even a shadow of +suspicion away from this girl to whose fascinating charm I had already +fallen a victim. + +Nor was I the only one in the room who dreaded the mere thought of Miss +Lloyd's connection with this horrible matter. + +Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter were, I could see, greatly concerned lest +some mistaken suspicion should indicate any doubt of the girl. I could +see by their kindly glances that she was a favorite, and was absolutely +free from suspicion in their minds. + +Mr. Orville had not quite the same attitude. Though he looked at Miss +Lloyd admiringly, I felt sure he was alertly ready to pounce upon +anything that might seem to connect her with a guilty knowledge of this +crime. + +Gregory Hall's attitude was inexplicable, and I concluded I had yet much +to learn about that young man. He looked at Miss Lloyd critically, and +though his glance could not be called quite unsympathetic, yet it showed +no definite sympathy. He seemed to be coldly weighing her in his own +mental balance, and he seemed to await whatever she might be about to +say with the impartial air of a disinterested judge. Though a stranger +myself, my heart ached for the young woman who was placed so suddenly in +such a painful position, but Gregory Hall apparently lacked any personal +interest in the case. + +I felt sure this was not true, that he was not really so unconcerned as +he appeared; but I could not guess why he chose to assume an impassive +mask. + +Miss Lloyd had not risen as it was not required of her, and she sat +expectant, but with no sign of nervousness. Mrs. Pierce, her companion, +was simply quivering with agitation. Now and again she would touch Miss +Lloyd's shoulder or hand, or whisper a word of encouragement, or perhaps +wring her own hands in futile despair. + +Of course these demonstrations were of little avail, nor did it seem as +if Florence Lloyd needed assistance or support. + +She gave the impression not only of general capability in managing her +own affairs, but of a special strength in an emergency. + +And an emergency it was; for though the two before-mentioned jurors, who +had been intimate friends of her uncle, were doubtless in sympathy with +Miss Lloyd, and though the coroner was kindly disposed toward her, yet +the other jurors took little pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, +and as for Mr. Parmalee, he was fairly eager with anticipation of the +revelations about to come. + +“Your name?” said the corner briefly, as if conquering his own sympathy +by an unnecessarily formal tone. + +“Florence Lloyd,” was the answer. + +“Your position in this house?” + +“I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who died many years ago. Since +her death I have lived with Mr. Crawford, occupying in every respect the +position of his daughter, though not legally adopted as such.” + +“Mr. Crawford was always kind to you?” + +“More than kind. He was generous and indulgent, and, though not of an +affectionate nature, he was always courteous and gentle.” + +“Will you tell us of the last time you saw him alive?” + +Miss Lloyd hesitated. She showed no embarrassment, no trepidation; she +merely seemed to be thinking. + +Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of the servants, Mrs. Pierce, +Mr. Philip Crawford, the jurors, and, lastly, dwelt for a moment on the +now anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall. + +Then she said slowly, but in an even, unemotional voice: “It was last +night at dinner. After dinner was over, my uncle went out, and before he +returned I had gone to my room.” + +“Was there anything unusual about his appearance or demeanor at +dinner-time?” + +“No; I noticed nothing of the sort.” + +“Was he troubled or annoyed about any matter, that you know of?” + +“He was annoyed about one matter that has been annoying him for some +time: that is, my engagement to Mr. Hall.” + +Apparently this was the answer the coroner had expected, for he nodded +his head in a satisfied way. + +The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, and I realized that the +acquaintances of the Crawfords were well informed as to Miss Lloyd's +romance. + +“He did not approve of that engagement?” went on the coroner, though he +seemed to be stating a fact, rather than asking a question. + +“He did not,” returned Miss Lloyd, and her color rose as she observed +the intense interest manifest among her hearers. + +“And the subject was discussed at the dinner table?” + +“It was.” + +“What was the tenor of the conversation?” + +“To the effect that I must break the engagement.” + +“Which you refused to do?” + +“I did.” + +Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined note had crept into +her voice, and she looked at her betrothed husband with an air of +affectionate pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man into the +seventh heaven. But I noted Mr. Hall's expression with surprise. Instead +of gazing adoringly at this girl who was thus publicly proving her +devotion to him, he sat with eyes cast down, and frowning--positively +frowning--while his fingers played nervously with his watch-chain. + +Surely this case required my closest attention, for I place far more +confidence in deductions from facial expression and tones of the voice, +than from the discovery of small, inanimate objects. + +And if I chose to deduce from facial expressions I had ample scope in +the countenances of these two people. + +I was particularly anxious not to jump at an unwarrantable conclusion, +but the conviction was forced upon me then and there that these two +people knew more about the crime than they expected to tell. I certainly +did not suspect either of them to be touched with guilt, but I was +equally sure that they were not ingenuous in their testimony. + +While I knew that they were engaged, having heard it from both of them, +I could not think that the course of their love affair was running +smoothly. I found myself drifting into idle speculation as to whether +this engagement was more desired by one than the other, and if so, by +which. + +But though I could not quite understand these two, it gave me no trouble +to know which I admired more. At the moment, Miss Lloyd seemed to me to +represent all that was beautiful, noble and charming in womanhood, +while Gregory Hall gave me the impression of a man crafty, selfish and +undependable. However, I fully realized that I was theorizing without +sufficient data, and determinedly I brought my attention back to the +coroner's catalogue of questions. + +“Who else heard this conversation, besides yourself, Miss Lloyd?” + +“Mrs. Pierce was at the table with us, and the butler was in the room +much of the time.” + +The purport of the coroner's question was obvious. Plainly he meant that +she might as well tell the truth in the matter, as her testimony could +easily be overthrown or corroborated. + +Miss Lloyd deliberately looked at the two persons mentioned. Mrs. Pierce +was trembling as with nervous apprehension, but she looked steadily at +Miss Lloyd, with eyes full of loyalty and devotion. + +And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. If I could read her face +aright, it bore the expression of one who would stand by her friend +whatever might come. If she herself had had doubts of Florence Lloyd's +integrity, but was determined to suppress them and swear to a belief in +her, she would look just as she did now. + +On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who stood with folded arms, gazed +straight ahead with an inscrutable countenance, but his set lips and +square jaw betokened decision. + +As I read it, Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, that should she tell an +untruth about that talk at the dinner-table, Mrs. Pierce would repeat +and corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute her, and would state +veraciously what his master had said. Clearly, it was useless to attempt +a false report, and, with a little sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed to resign +herself to her fate, and calmly awaited the coroner's further questions. + +But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree. The lack +of responsive glances from Gregory Hall's eyes seemed to perplex her. +The eager interest of the six jurymen made her restless and embarrassed. +The coroner's abrupt questions frightened her, and I feared her +self-enforced calm must sooner or later give way. + +And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting those +uncontrollable glances toward her. And as the agitated Frenchman +endeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe that the +pretty-faced maid I had noticed before, was staring fixedly at Louis. +Surely there were wheels within wheels, and the complications of this +matter were not to be solved by the simple questions of the coroner. But +of course this preliminary examination was necessary, and it was from +this that I must learn the main story, and endeavor to find out the +secrets afterward. + +“What was your uncle's response when you refused to break your +engagement to Mr. Hall?” was the next inquiry. + +Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, while she directed her gaze +successively at several individuals. This time she favored Mr. Randolph, +who was Mr. Crawford's lawyer, and Philip Crawford, the dead man's +brother. After looking in turn at these two, and glancing for a moment +at Philip Crawford's son, who sat by his side, she said, in a lower +voice than she had before used, + +“He said he would change his will, and leave none of his fortune to me.” + +“His will, then, has been made in your favor?” + +“Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole heiress to his estate, +except for some comparatively small bequests.” + +“Did he ever threaten this proceeding before?” + +“He had hinted it, but not so definitely.” + +“Did Mr. Hall know of Mr. Crawford's objection to his suit?” + +“He did.” + +“Did he know of your uncle's hints of disinheritance?” + +“He did.” + +“What was his attitude in the matter?” + +Florence Lloyd looked proudly at her lover. + +“The same as mine,” she said. “We both regretted my uncle's protest, but +we had no intention of letting it stand in the way of our happiness.” + +Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee. He sat motionless, +preoccupied, and seemingly lost in deep thought, oblivious to all that +was going on. + +Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the time of the murder made him +feel that he was in no way implicated, and so the inquiry held no +interest for him; or whether he was looking ahead and wondering whither +these vital questions were leading Florence Lloyd, I had no means +of knowing. Certainly, he was a man of most impassive demeanor and +marvellous self-control. + +“Then, in effect, you defied your uncle?” + +“In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words. I always tried to +urge him to see the matter in a different light.” + +“What was his objection to Mr. Hall as your husband?” + +“Must I answer that?” + +“Yes; I think so; as I must have a clear understanding of the whole +affair.” + +“Well, then, he told me that he had no objection to Mr. Hall, +personally. But he wished me to make what he called a more brilliant +alliance. He wanted me to marry a man of greater wealth and social +position.” + +The scorn in Miss Lloyd's voice for her uncle's ambitions was so +unmistakable that it made her whole answer seem a compliment to Mr. +Hall, rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling worth of +the young secretary was far more to be desired than the riches and rank +advocated by her uncle. This time Gregory Hall looked at the speaker +with a faint smile, that showed appreciation, if not adoration. + +But I did not gather from his attitude that he did not adore his +beautiful bride-to-be; I only concluded that he was not one to show his +feelings in public. + +However, I couldn't help feeling that I had learned which of the two was +more anxious for the engagement to continue. + +“In what way was your uncle more definite in his threat last night, than +he had been heretofore?” the coroner continued. + +Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question she had been dreading +had come at last. She looked at the inexorable face of the butler, she +looked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half-timid glance at Hall, as +she answered, + +“He said that unless I promised to give up Mr. Hall, he would go last +night to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will drawn up.” + +“Did he do so?” exclaimed Gregory Hall, an expression almost of fear +appearing on his commonplace face. + +Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. Apparently his sudden +question had surprised her. + +Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall's remark, but said to Miss +Lloyd, “He had made such threats before, had he not?” + +“Yes, but not with the same determination. He told me in so many words, +I must choose between Mr. Hall or the inheritance of his fortune.” + +“And your answer to this?” + +“I made no direct answer. I had told him many times that I had no +intention of breaking my engagement, whatever course he might choose to +pursue.” + +Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the turn things were taking. +He already scented a sensation, and he scribbled industriously in his +rapidly filling note-book. + +This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the jurors on this +preliminary inquest could come to their conclusions without a detailed +account of all these conversations. + +I also resented the looks of admiration which Mr. Orville cast at the +beautiful girl. It seemed to me that with the exception of Mr. Hamilton +and Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the jurors should have +maintained a formal and impersonal attitude. + +Mr. Hamilton spoke directly to Miss Lloyd on the subject. + +“I am greatly surprised,” he said, “that Mr. Crawford should take such +a stand. He has often spoken to me of you as his heiress, and to my +knowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of immediately recent +date.” + +“No,” said Miss Lloyd, “but it is only recently that my uncle expressed +his disapprobation so strongly; and last night at dinner was the first +time he positively stated his intention in regard to his will.” + +At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter conversed together in indignant +whispers, and it was quite evident that they did not approve of Mr. +Crawford's treatment of his niece. + +Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which surprised +me, as I had understood that had it not been for Miss Lloyd, he himself +would have been his brother's heir. + +Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, noncommittal expression, and +Gregory Hall, too, looked absolutely impassive. + +The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something of +definite import, and asked eagerly, + +“Did he do so? Did he go to his lawyer's and make another will?” + +Miss Lloyd's cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the coroner's +excited interest. + +“I do not know,” she replied. “He went out after dinner, as I have told +you, but I retired to my bedroom before he came home.” + +“And you did not come down-stairs again last night?” + +“I did not.” + +The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made me doubt +their truth. It was not the voice or inflection; there was no hesitation +or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of Miss Lloyd's eyelids +seemed to me to give the lie to her words. + +I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly raised +his own eyes and looked at her steadily for the first time since her +testimony began. + +She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler. +Either she had reason to fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. With an +endeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I chanced to look +at Parmalee. To my disgust, he was quite evidently gloating over the +disclosures being made by the witness. I felt my anger rise, and I +determined then and there that if suspicion of guilt or complicity +should by any chance unjustly light on that brave and lovely girl, I +would make the effort of my life to clear her from it. + +“You did not come down again,” the coroner went on pointedly, “to ask +your uncle if he had changed his will?” + +“No, I did not,” she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornful +voice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed her. + +“Then you were not in your uncle's office last evening at all?” + +“I was not.” + +“Nor through the day?” + +She reflected a moment. “No, nor through the day. It chanced I had no +occasion to go in there yesterday at all.” + +At these assertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, looked +greatly disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, but +it was not at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to look +undisturbed at what he heard. + +I hadn't a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that would +incriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they two had a mutual knowledge of some +fact as yet concealed. + +I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but the +attention of every one in the room was concentrated on the coroner and +the witness, and so Louis's behavior passed unnoticed. + +At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with some dignity. + +“It would seem,” he said, “that this concludes Miss Lloyd's evidence +in the matter. She has carried the narrative up to the point where +Mr. Joseph Crawford went out of his house after dinner. As she herself +retired to her room before his return, and did not again leave her room +until this morning, she can have nothing further to tell us bearing on +the tragedy. And as it is doubtless a most painful experience for her, I +trust, Mr. Coroner, that you will excuse her from further questioning.” + +“But wait a minute,” Parmalee began, when Mr Hamilton interrupted +him--“Mr. Porter is quite right,” he said; “there is no reason why Miss +Lloyd should be further troubled in this matter. I feel free to advise +her dismissal from the witness stand, because of my acquaintance and +friendship with this household. Our coroner and most of our jurors +are strangers to Miss Lloyd, and perhaps cannot appreciate as I do the +terrible strain this experience means to her.” + +“You're right Hamilton,” said Mr. Philip Crawford; “I was remiss not to +think of it myself. Mr. Monroe, this is not a formal inquest, and in the +interest of kindness and humanity, I ask you to excuse Miss Lloyd from +further questioning for the present.” + +I was surprised at the requests of these elderly gentlemen, for though +it seemed to me that Miss Lloyd's testimony was complete, yet it also +seemed as if Gregory Hall were the one to show anxiety that she be +spared further annoyance. + +However, Florence Lloyd spoke for herself. + +“I am quite willing to answer any further questions,” she said; “I have +answered all you have asked, and I have told you frankly the truth. +Though it is far from pleasant to have my individual affairs thus +brought to notice, I am quite ready to do anything to forward the cause +of justice or to aid in any way the discovery of my uncle's murderer.” + +“Thank you,” said Mr. Monroe; “I quite appreciate the extreme +unpleasantness of your position. But, Miss Lloyd, there are a few more +questions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat myself, but I ask you +once more if you did not come down to your uncle's office last evening +after he had returned from his call on Mr. Randolph.” + +As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her eyes did not turn toward +the coroner, or toward her fiance, or toward the jury, but she looked +straight at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear tones, + +“I did not.” + + + + +VI. THE GOLD BAG + + +“Is this yours?” asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly whisking into sight the +gold-mesh bag. + +Probably his intent had been to startle her, and thus catch her off her +guard. If so, he succeeded, for the girl was certainly startled, if only +at the suddenness of the query. + +“N-no,” she stammered; “it's--it's not mine.” + +“Are you sure?” the coroner went on, a little more gently, doubtless +moved by her agitation. + +“I'm--I'm quite sure. Where did you find it?” + +“What size gloves do you wear, Miss Lloyd?” + +“Number six.” She said this mechanically, as if thinking of something +else, and her face was white. + +“These are number six,” said the coroner, as he took a pair of gloves +from the bag. “Think again, Miss Lloyd. Do you not own a gold-chain bag, +such as this?” + +“I have one something like that--or, rather, I did have one.” + +“Ah! And what did you do with it?” + +“I gave it to my maid, Elsa, some days ago.” + +“Why did you do that?” + +“Because I was tired of it, and as it was a trifle worn, I had ceased to +care to carry it.” + +“Is it not a somewhat expensive trinket to turn over to your maid?” + +“No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean mine was not. It was gilt +over silver, and cost only about twelve or fourteen dollars when new.” + +“What did you usually carry in it?” + +“What every woman carries in such a bag. Handkerchief, some small +change, perhaps a vanity-box, gloves, tickets--whatever would be needed +on an afternoon's calling or shopping tour.” + +“Miss Lloyd, you have enumerated almost exactly the articles in this +bag.” + +“Then that is a coincidence, for it is not my bag.” + +The girl was entirely self-possessed again, and even a little +aggressive. + +I admit that I did not believe her statements. Of course I could not be +sure she was telling untruths, but her sudden embarrassment at the first +sight of the bag, and the way in which she regained her self-possession, +made me doubt her clear conscience in the matter. + +Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside me, whispered: “Striking +coincidence, isn't it?” + +Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, yet it irritated me +horribly to hear him say it. + +“But ninety-nine women out of a hundred would experience the same +coincidence,” I returned. + +“But the other ninety-eight weren't in the house last night, and she +was.” + +At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had suspected of feeling far deeper +interest than she had so far shown, volunteered a remark. + +“Of course that isn't Florence's bag,” she said; “if Florence had gone +to her uncle's office last evening, she would have been wearing her +dinner gown, and certainly would not carry a street bag.” + +“Is this a street bag?” inquired Mr. Monroe, looking with a masculine +helplessness at the gilt bauble. + +“Of course it is,” said Mrs. Pierce, who now that she had found her +voice, seemed anxious to talk. “Nobody ever carries a bag like that in +the house,--in the evening.” + +“But,” began Parmalee, “such a thing might have occurred, if Miss Lloyd +had had occasion to go to her uncle's office with, we will say, papers +or notes.” + +Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, but Mr. Monroe seemed to +take it seriously. + +“That might be,” he said, and I could see that momentarily the +suspicions against Florence Lloyd were growing in force and were taking +definite shape. + +As I noted the expressions, on the various faces, I observed that only +Mr. Philip Crawford and the jurors Hamilton and Porter seemed entirely +in sympathy with the girl. The coroner, Parmalee, and even the lawyer, +Randolph, seemed to be willing, almost eager for her to incriminate +herself. + +Gregory Hall, who should have been the most sympathetic of all, seemed +the most coldly indifferent, and as for Mrs. Pierce, her actions were so +erratic and uncertain, no one could tell what she thought. + +“You are quite positive it is not your bag?” repeated the coroner once +more. + +“I'm positive it is not mine,” returned Miss Lloyd, without undue +emphasis, but with an air of dismissing the subject. + +“Is your maid present?” asked the coroner. “Let her be summoned.” + +Elsa came forward, the pretty, timid young girl, of German effects, whom +I had already noticed. + +“Have you ever seen this bag before?” asked the coroner, holding it up +before her. + +“Yes, sir.” + +“When?” + +“This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to me, sir. He said he found it in +Mr. Crawford's office.” + +The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. She seemed afraid of the +coroner, of Lambert, of Miss Lloyd, and of the jury. It might have +been merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, but it had the +appearance of some more definite apprehension. + +Especially did she seem afraid of the man, Louis. Though perhaps the +distressed glances she cast at him were not so much those of fear as of +anxiety. + +The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really seemed to take more notice +of her embarrassment, and make more effort to put her at her ease than +he had done with Miss Lloyd. + +“Is it Miss Lloyd's bag?” + +“I don't think so, sir.” + +“Don't you know? As her personal maid, you must be acquainted with her +belongings.” + +“Yes, sir. No, it isn't hers, sir.” + +But as this statement was made after a swift but noticeable glance of +inquiry at her mistress, a slight distrust of Elsa formed in my own +mind, and probably in the minds of others. + +“She has one like this, has she not?” + +“She--she did have, sir; but she--she gave it to me.” + +“Yes? Then go and get it and let us see it.” + +“I haven't it now, sir. I--I gave it away.” + +“Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you get it back?” + +“No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed for Germany last week.” + +Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told against +her. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam as he concluded in his own mind +that the bag story was all false, was made up between mistress and maid, +and that the part about the departing cousin was an artistic touch added +by Elsa. + +The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present witness, and +he sat thoughtfully snapping the catch of the bag. + +He turned again to Miss Lloyd. “Having given away your own bag,” he +said suavely, “you have perhaps provided yourself with another, have you +not?” + +“Why, no, I haven't,” said Florence Lloyd. “I have been intending to do +so, and shall get one shortly, but I haven't yet selected it.” + +“And in the meantime you have been getting along without any?” + +“A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several bags of +other styles, and I'm in no especial haste to purchase a new one.” + +Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and her +voice was incisive in its tone. Clearly she resented this discussion of +her personal belongings, and as she entirely repudiated the ownership of +the bag in the coroner's possession, she was annoyed at his questions. + +Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily. + +“If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd,” he said, with some asperity, +“how did it get on Mr. Crawford's desk late last night? The butler has +assured me it was not there when he looked in at a little after ten +o'clock. Yet this morning it lay there, in plain sight on the desk. +Whose bag is it?” + +“I have not the slightest idea,” said Miss Lloyd firmly; “but, I repeat, +it is not mine.” + +“Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe's questions,” said Parmalee in +my ear. “If he can prove this bag to be Miss Lloyd's, it shows that +she was in the office after ten o'clock last night, and this she has +denied.” + +“Don't you believe her?” said I. + +“Indeed I don't. Of course she was there, and of course it's her bag. +She put that pretty maid of hers up to deny it, but any one could see +the maid was lying, also.” + +“Oh, come now, Parmalee, that's too bad! You've no right to say such +things!” + +“Oh, pshaw! you think the same yourself, only you think it isn't +chivalrous to put it into words.” + +Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee's speech was its inherent truth. I +didn't believe Florence Lloyd. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't; for the +appearance, manner and words of both women were not such as to inspire +belief in their hearers. + +If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her ownership of the bag, it +would be hard to prove the contrary, for the men-servants could not be +supposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce would testify as Miss +Lloyd did on any matter. + +I was sorry not to put more confidence in the truth of the testimony +I was hearing, but I am, perhaps, sceptical by nature. And, too, if +Florence Lloyd were in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I +felt pretty sure she would not hesitate at untruth. + +Her marvellous magnetism attracted me strongly, but it did not blind me +to the strength of her nature. While I could not, as yet, believe her in +any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I was fully convinced she +knew more concerning it than she had told and I knew, unless forced to, +she would not tell what she desired to keep secret. + +My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my duty was plain. As a +detective, I must investigate fairly, or give up the case. + +At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was the presence of Miss +Lloyd in the office last night, and the two yellow rose petals I had +picked up on the floor might prove a clue. + +At any rate it was my duty to investigate the point, so taking a card +from my pocket I wrote upon it: “Find out if Miss Lloyd wore any flowers +last evening, and what kind.” + +I passed this over to Mr. Monroe, and rather enjoyed seeing his +mystification as he read it. + +To my surprise he did not question Florence Lloyd immediately, but +turned again to the maid. + +“At what time did your mistress go to her room last evening?” + +“At about ten o'clock, sir. I was waiting there for her, and so I am +sure.” + +“Did she at once retire?” + +“No, sir. She changed her evening gown for a teagown, and then said she +would sit up for an hour or so and write letters, and I needn't wait.” + +“You left her then?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Did Miss Lloyd wear any flowers at dinner last evening?” + +“No, sir. There were no guests--only the family.” + +“Ah, quite so. But did she, by chance, pin on any flowers after she went +to her room?” + +“Why, yes, sir; she did. A box of roses had come for her by a messenger, +and when she found them in her room, she pinned one on the lace of her +teagown.” + +“Yes? And what time did the flowers arrive?” + +“While Miss Lloyd was at dinner, sir. I took them from the box and put +them in water, sir.” + +“And what sort of flowers were they?” + +“Yellow roses, sir.” + +“That will do, Elsa. You are excused.” + +The girl looked bewildered, and a little embarrassed as she returned +to her place among the other servants, and Miss Lloyd looked a little +bewildered also. + +But then, for that matter, no body understood the reason for the +questions about the flowers, and though most of the jury merely looked +preternaturally wise on the subject, Mr. Orville scribbled it all +down in his little book. I was now glad to see the man keep up his +indefatigable note-taking. If the reporters or stenographers missed any +points, I could surely get them from him. + +But from the industry with which he wrote, I began to think he must be +composing an elaborate thesis on yellow roses and their habits. + +Mr. Porter, looking greatly puzzled, observed to the coroner, “I have +listened to your inquiries with interest; and I would like to know what, +if any, special importance is attached to this subject of yellow roses.” + +“I'm not able to tell you,” replied Mr. Monroe. “I asked these questions +at the instigation of another, who doubtless has some good reason for +them, which he will explain in due time.” + +Mr. Porter seemed satisfied with this, and I nodded my head at the +coroner, as if bidding him to proceed. + +But if I had been surprised before at the all but spoken intelligence +which passed between the two servants, Elsa and Louis, I was more amazed +now. They shot rapid glances at each other, which were evidently full +of meaning to themselves. Elsa was deathly white, her lips trembled, and +she looked at the Frenchman as if in terror of her life. But though he +glanced at her meaningly, now and then, Louis's anxiety seemed to me to +be more for Florence Lloyd than for her maid. + +But now the coroner was talking very gravely to Miss Lloyd. + +“Do you corroborate,” he was saying, “the statements of your maid about +the flowers that were sent you last evening?” + +“I do,” she replied. + +“From whom did they come?” + +“From Mr. Hall.” + +“Mr. Hall,” said, the coroner, turning toward the young man, “how could +you send flowers to Miss Lloyd last evening if you were in New York +City?” + +“Easily,” was the cool reply. “I left Sedgwick on the six o'clock train. +On my way to the station I stopped at a florist's and ordered some roses +sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive until she was at dinner, they +were not sent immediately, as the florist promised.” + +“When did you receive them, Miss Lloyd?” + +“They were in my room when I went up there at about ten o'clock last +evening,” she replied, and her face showed her wonderment at these +explicit questions. + +The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said: +“Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few questions right here.” + +“Certainly,” he replied. + +And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly addressed +Florence Lloyd. + +“When you went up to your room at ten o'clock, the flowers were there?” + I asked, and I felt a most uncomfortable pounding at my heart because of +the trap I was deliberately laying for her. But it had to be done, and +even as I spoke, I experienced a glad realization, that if she were +innocent, my questions could do her no harm. + +“Yes,” she repeated, and for the first time favored me with a look of +interest. I doubt if she knew my name or scarcely knew why I was there. + +“And you pinned one on your gown?” + +“I tucked it in among the laces at my throat, yes.” + +“Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you did not go down-stairs +again, to your uncle's office?” + +“I did not,” she repeated, but she turned white, and her voice was +scarce more than a whisper. + +“Then,” said I, “how did two petals of a yellow rose happen to be on the +floor in the office this morning?” + + + + +VII. YELLOW ROSES + + +If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint or collapse at this crisis +he must have been disappointed, and as I had confidently expected such +a scene, I was completely surprised at her quick recovery of +self-possession. + +For an instant she had seemed stunned by my question, and her eyes had +wandered vaguely round the room, as if in a vain search for help. + +Her glance returned to me, and in that instant I gave her an answering +look, which, quite involuntarily on my part, meant a grave and serious +offer of my best and bravest efforts in her behalf. Disingenuous she +might be, untruthful she might be, yes, even a criminal she might be, +but in any case I was her sworn ally forever. Not that I meant to defeat +the ends of justice, but I was ready to fight for her or with her, until +justice should defeat us. Of course she didn't know all this, though +I couldn't help hoping she read a little of it as my eyes looked into +hers. If so, she recognized it only by a swift withdrawal of her own +glance. Again she looked round at her various friends. + +Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, though he gave her no +responsive glance, for some reason her poise returned like a flash. It +was as if she had been invigorated by a cold douche. + +Determination fairly shone in her dark eyes, and her mouth showed a +more decided line than I had yet seen in its red curves, as with a cold, +almost hard voice she replied, + +“I have no idea. We have many flowers in the house, always.” + +“But I have learned from the servants that there were no other yellow +roses in the house yesterday.” + +Miss Lloyd was not hesitant now. She replied quickly, and it was with an +almost eager haste that she said, + +“Then I can only imagine that my uncle had some lady visitor in his +office late last evening.” + +The girl's mood had changed utterly; her tone was almost flippant, and +more than one of the jurors looked at her in wonderment. + +Mr. Porter, especially, cast an her a glance of fatherly solicitude, and +I was sure that he felt, as I did, that the strain was becoming too much +for her. + +“I don't think you quite mean that, Florence,” he said; “you and I knew +your uncle too well to say such things.” + +But the girl made no reply, and her beautiful mouth took on a hard line. + +“It is not an impossible conjecture,” said Philip Crawford thoughtfully. +“If the bag does not belong to Florence, what more probable than that it +was left by its feminine owner? The same lady might have worn or carried +yellow roses.” + +Perhaps it was because of my own desire to help her that these other men +had joined their efforts to mine to ease the way as much as possible. + +The coroner looked a little uncomfortable, for he began to note the tide +of sympathy turning toward the troubled girl. + +“Yellow roses do not necessarily imply a lady visitor,” he said, rather +more kindly. “A man in evening dress might have worn one.” + +To his evident surprise, as well as to my own, this remark, intended to +be soothing, had quite the opposite effect. + +“That is not at all probable,” said Miss Lloyd quite angrily. “Mr. +Porter was in the office last evening; if he was wearing a yellow rose +at the time, let him say so.” + +“I was not,” said Mr. Porter quietly, but looking amazed at the sudden +outburst of the girl. + +“Of course you weren't!” Miss Lloyd went on, still in the same excited +way. “Men don't wear roses nowadays, except perhaps at a ball; and, +anyway, the gold bag surely implies that a woman was there!” + +“It seems to,” said Mr. Monroe; and then, unable longer to keep up her +brave resistance, Florence Lloyd fainted. + +Mrs. Pierce wrung her hands and moaned in a helpless fashion. Elsa +started forward to attend her young mistress, but it was the two +neighbors who were jurors, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who carried the +unconscious girl from the room. + +Gregory Hall looked concerned, but made no movement to aid, and I +marvelled afresh at such strange actions in a man betrothed to a +particularly beautiful woman. + +Several women in the audience hurried from the room, and in a few +moments the two jurors returned. + +“Miss Lloyd will soon be all right, I think,” said Mr. Porter to the +coroner. “My wife is with her, and one or two other ladies. I think we +may proceed with our work here.” + +There was something about Mr. Lemuel Porter that made men accept his +dictum, and without further remark Mr. Monroe called the next witness, +Mr. Roswell Randolph, and a tall man, with an intellectual face, came +forward. + +While the coroner was putting the formal and preliminary questions +to Mr. Randolph, Parmalee quietly drew my attention to a whispered +conversation going on between Elsa and Louis. + +If this girl had fainted instead of Miss Lloyd, I should not have been +surprised for she seemed on the very verge of nervous collapse. She +seemed, too, to be accusing the man of something, which he vigorously +denied. The girl interested me far more than the Frenchman. Though of +the simple, rosy-cheeked type of German, she had an air of canniness and +subtlety that was at variance with her naive effect. I soon concluded +she was far more clever than most people thought, and Parmalee's +whispered words showed that he thought so too. + +“Something doing in the case of Dutch Elsa, eh?” he said; “she and +Johnny Frenchy have cooked up something between them.” + +“Nothing of any importance, I fancy,” I returned, for Miss Lloyd's +swoon seemed to me a surrender, and I had little hope now of any other +direction in which to look. + +But I resumed my attention to the coroner's inquiries of Mr. Randolph. + +In answer to a few formal questions, he stated that he had been Mr. +Crawford's legal adviser for many years, and had entire charge of all +such matters as required legal attention. + +“Did you draw up the late Mr. Crawford's will?” asked the coroner. + +“Yes; after the death of his wife--about twelve years ago.” + +“And what were the terms of that will?” + +“Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of his fortune was bequeathed +to Miss Florence Lloyd.” + +“Have you changed that will in any way, or drawn a later one?” + +“No.” + +It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, as the +lawyer gave this answer. + +It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief and +delight that fairly flooded his countenance. To be sure, it was quickly +suppressed, and his former mask of indifference and preoccupation +assumed, but I knew as well as if he had put it into words, that he had +trembled lest Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before her uncle had met +his death in the night. + +This gave me many newThis gave me many new thoughts, but before I could formulate them, I +heard the coroner going on with his questions. + +“Did Mr. Crawford visit you last evening?” + +“Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half an hour or more between eight +and nine o'clock.” + +“Did he refer to the subject of changing his will?” + +“He did. That was his errand. He distinctly stated his intention of +making a new will, and asked me to come to his office this morning and +draw up the instrument.” + +“But as that cannot now be done, the will in favor of Miss Lloyd still +stands?” + +“It does,” said Mr. Randolph, “and I am glad of it. Miss Lloyd has been +brought up to look upon this inheritance as her own, and while I +would have used no undue emphasis, I should have tried to dissuade Mr. +Crawford from changing his will.” + +“But before we consider the fortune or the will, we must proceed with +our task of bringing to light the murderer, and avenging Mr. Crawford's +death.” + +“I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and that speedily. But I may +say, if allowable, that you are on the wrong track when you allow your +suspicions to tend towards Florence Lloyd.” + +“As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course that sentiment has some +weight, but as a man of law, yourself, you must know that such an +opinion must be proved before it can be really conclusive.” + +“Yes, of course,” said Mr. Randolph, with a deep sigh. “But let me beg +of you to look further in search of other indications before you press +too hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues you now have.” + +I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it seemed to me that the men of +West Sedgwick were of a fine class as to both intellect and judgment, +and though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, I began to realize +that he had some sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair in +his decisions. + +As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great anxiety. +Though still calm and reserved in appearance, he was less nervous, +and quietly awaited further developments. His attitude was not hard to +understand. Mr. Crawford had objected to his secretary's engagement to +his niece, and now Mr. Crawford's objections could no longer matter. +Again, it was not surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn that +his fiancee was the heiress she had supposed herself to he. Even though +he were marrying the girl simply for love of her, a large fortune in +addition was by no means to be despised. At any rate, I concluded that +Gregory Hall thought so. + +As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. “A fortune-hunter,” he +murmured, with a meaning glance at Hall. + +I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same thing, and +I thoroughly believed it myself. + +“Has he any means of his own?” + +“No,” said Parmalee, “except his salary, which was a good one from Mr. +Crawford, but of course he's lost that now.” + +“I don't feel drawn toward him. I suppose one would call him a gentleman +and yet he isn't manly.” + +“He's a cad,” declared Parmalee; “any fortune hunter is a cad, and I +despise him.” + +Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr. Hall, +I was conscious of an inclination to despise him myself. But I was also +honest enough to realize that my principal reason for despising him was +because he had won the hand of Florence Lloyd. + +I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh. + +Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and really +dreaded to go on with the proceedings, because he was fearful of what +might be disclosed thereby. + +The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose petals +were not yet satisfactorily accounted for; Miss Lloyd's agitation +and sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising in the +circumstances, were a point in her disfavor. And now the revelation that +Mr. Crawford was actually on the point of disinheriting his niece made +it impossible to ignore the obvious connection between that fact and the +event of the night. + +But no one had put the thought into words, and none seemed inclined to. + +Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and Mrs. +Pierce answered. + +For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as she +rose, I realized that she was a prim little personage, but of such +a decided nature that she might have been stigmatized by the term +stubborn. I had seen such women before; of a certain soft, outward +effect, apparently pliable and amenable, but in reality, deep, shrewd +and clever. + +And yet she was not strong, for the situation in which she found herself +made her trembling and unstrung. + +When asked by the coroner to tell her own story of the events of the +evening before, she begged that he would question her instead. + +Desirous of making it as easy for her as possible, Mr. Monroe acceded to +her wishes, and put his questions in a kindly and conversational tone. + +“You were at dinner last night, with Miss Lloyd and Mr. Crawford?” + +“Yes,” was the almost inaudible reply, and Mrs. Pierce seemed about to +break down at the sad recollection. + +“You heard the argument between Mr. Crawford and his niece at the dinner +table?” + +“Yes.” + +“This resulted in high words on both sides?” + +“Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by high words. Mr. Crawford +rarely lost his temper and Florence never.” + +“What then did Mr. Crawford say in regard to disinheriting Miss Lloyd?” + +“Mr. Crawford said clearly, but without recourse to what may be called +high words, that unless Florence would consent to break her engagement +he would cut her off with a shilling.” + +“Did he use that expression?” + +“He did at first, when he was speaking more lightly; then when Florence +refused to do as he wished he said he would go that very evening to Mr. +Randolph's and have a new will made which should disinherit Florence, +except for a small annuity.” + +“And what did Miss Lloyd reply to this threat?” asked the coroner. + +“She said,” replied Mrs. Pierce, in her plaintive tones, “that her uncle +might do as he chose about that; but she would never give up Mr. Hall.” + +At this moment Gregory Hall looked more manly than I had yet seen him. + +Though he modestly dropped his eyes at this tacit tribute to his +worthiness, yet he squared his shoulders, and showed a justifiable pride +in the love thus evinced for him. + +“Was the subject discussed further?” pursued the coroner. + +“No; nothing more was said about it after that.” + +“Will the making of a new will by Mr. Crawford affect yourself in any +way, Mrs. Pierce?” + +“No,” she replied, “Mr. Crawford left me a small bequest in his earlier +will and I had reason to think he would do the same in a later will, +even though he changed his intentions regarding Florence.” + +“Miss Lloyd thoroughly believed that he intended to carry out his threat +last evening?” + +“She didn't say so to me, but Mr. Crawford spoke so decidedly on the +matter, that I think both she and I believed he was really going to +carry out his threat at last.” + +“When Mr. Crawford left the house, did you and Miss Lloyd know where he +was going?” + +“We knew no more than he had said at the table. He said nothing when he +went away.” + +“How did you and Miss Lloyd spend the remainder of the evening?” + +“It was but a short evening. We sat in the music-room for a time, but at +about ten o'clock we both went up to our rooms.” + +“Had Mr. Crawford returned then?” + +“Yes, he came in perhaps an hour earlier. We heard him come in at the +front door, and go at once to his office.” + +“You did not see him, or speak to him?” + +“We did not. He had a caller during the evening. It was Mr. Porter, I +have since learned.” + +“Did Miss Lloyd express no interest as to whether he had changed his +will or not?” + +“Miss Lloyd didn't mention the will, or her engagement, to me at all. We +talked entirely of other matters.” + +“Was Miss Lloyd in her usual mood or spirits?” + +“She seemed a little quiet, but not at all what you might call worried.” + +“Was not this strange when she was fully expecting to be deprived of her +entire fortune?” + +“It was not strange for Miss Lloyd. She rarely talks of her own affairs. +We spent an evening similar in all respects to our usual evening when we +do not have guests.” + +“And you both went upstairs at ten. Was that unusually early for you?” + +“Well, unless we have guests, we often go at ten or half-past ten.” + +“And did you see Miss Lloyd again that night?” + +“Yes; about half an hour later, I went to her room for a book I wanted.” + +“Miss Lloyd had not retired?” + +“No; she asked me to sit down for awhile and chat.” + +“Did you do so?” + +“Only for a few moments. I was interested in the book I had come for, +and I wanted to take it away to my own room to read.” + +“And Miss Lloyd, then, did not seem dispirited or in any way in an +unusual mood?” + +“Not that I noticed. I wasn't quizzing her or looking into her eyes to +see what her thoughts were, for it didn't occur to me to do so. I +knew her uncle had dealt her a severe blow, but as she didn't open +the subject, of course I couldn't discuss it with her. But I did think +perhaps she wanted to be by herself to consider the matter, and that was +one reason why I didn't stay and chat as she had asked me to.” + +“Perhaps she really wanted to discuss the matter with you.” + +“Perhaps she did; but in that case she should have said so. Florence +knows well enough that I am always ready to discuss or sympathize with +her in any matter, but I never obtrude my opinions. So as she said +nothing to lead me to think she wanted to talk to me especially, I said +good-night to her.” + + + + +VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY + + +“Did you happen to notice, Mrs. Pierce, whether Miss Lloyd was wearing a +yellow rose when you saw her in her room?” + +Mrs. Pierce hesitated. She looked decidedly embarrassed, and seemed +disinclined to answer. But she might have known that to hesitate and +show embarrassment was almost equivalent to an affirmative answer to the +coroner's question. At last she replied, + +“I don't know; I didn't notice.” + +This might have been a true statement, but I think no one in the room +believed it. The coroner tried again. + +“Try to think, Mrs. Pierce. It is important that we should know if Miss +Lloyd was wearing a yellow rose.” + +“Yes,” flared out Mrs. Pierce angrily, “so that you can prove she went +down to her uncle's office later and dropped a piece of her rose there! +But I tell you I don't remember whether she was wearing a rose or not, +and it wouldn't matter if she had on forty roses! If Florence Lloyd says +she didn't go down-stairs, she didn't.” + +“I think we all believe in Miss Lloyd's veracity,” said Mr. Monroe, “but +it is necessary to discover where those rose petals in the library came +from. You saw the flowers in her room, Mrs. Pierce?” + +“Yes, I believe I did. But I paid no attention to them, as Florence +nearly always has flowers in her room.” + +“Would you have heard Miss Lloyd if she had gone down-stairs after you +left her?” + +“I don't know,” said Mrs. Pierce, doubtfully. + +“Is your room next to hers?” + +“No, not next.” + +“Is it on the same corridor?” + +“No.” + +“Around a corner?” + +“Yes.” + +“And at some distance?” + +“Yes.” Mrs. Pierce's answers became more hesitating as she saw the drift +of Mr. Monroe's questions. Clearly, she was trying to shield Florence, +if necessary, at the expense of actual truthfulness. + +“Then,” went on Mr. Monroe, inexorably, “I understand you to say that +you think you would have heard Miss Lloyd, had she gone down-stairs, +although your room is at a distance and around a corner and the hall and +stairs are thickly carpeted. Unless you were listening especially, Mrs. +Pierce, I think you would scarcely have heard her descend.” + +“Well, as she didn't go down, of course I didn't hear her,” snapped Mrs. +Pierce, with the feminine way of settling an argument by an unprovable +statement. + +Mr. Monroe began on another tack. + +“When you went to Miss Lloyd's room,” he said, “was the maid, Elsa, +there?” + +“Miss Lloyd had just dismissed her for the night.” + +“What was Miss Lloyd doing when you went to her room?” + +“She was looking over some gowns that she proposed sending to the +cleaner's.” + +The coroner fairly jumped. He remembered the newspaper clipping of a +cleaner's advertisement, which was even now in the gold bag before him. +Though all the jurors had seen it, it had not been referred to in the +presence of the women. + +Recovering himself at once, he said quietly “Was not that rather work +for Miss Lloyd's maid?” + +“Oh, Elsa would pack and send them, of course,” said Mrs. Pierce +carelessly. “Miss Lloyd was merely deciding which ones needed cleaning.” + +“Do you know where they were to be sent?” + +Mrs. Pierce looked a little surprised at this question. + +“Miss Lloyd always sends her things to Carter & Brown's,” she said. + +Now, Carter & Brown was the firm name on the advertisement, and it was +evident at once that the coroner considered this a damaging admission. + +He sat looking greatly troubled, but before he spoke again, Mr. +Parmalee made an observation that decidedly raised that young man in my +estimation. + +“Well,” he said, “that's pretty good proof that the gold bag doesn't +belong to Miss Lloyd.” + +“How so?” asked the coroner, who had thought quite the contrary. + +“Why, if Miss Lloyd always sends her goods to be cleaned to Carter & +Brown, why would she need to cut their address from a newspaper and save +it?” + +At first I thought the young man's deduction distinctly clever, but +on second thought I wasn't so sure. Miss Lloyd might have wanted that +address for a dozen good reasons. To my mind, it proved neither her +ownership of the gold bag, nor the contrary. + +In fact, I thought the most important indication that the bag might be +hers lay in the story Elsa told about the cousin who sailed to Germany. +Somehow that sounded untrue to me, but I was more than willing to +believe it if I could. + +I longed for Fleming Stone, who, I felt sure, could learn from the bag +and its contents the whole truth about the crime and the criminal. + +But I had been called to take charge of the case, and my pride forbade +me to call on any one for help. + +I had scorned deductions from inanimate objects, but I resolved to study +that bag again, and study it more minutely. Perhaps there were some +threads or shreds caught in its meshes that might point to its owner. I +remembered a detective story I read once, in which the whole discovery +of the criminal depended on identifying a few dark blue woollen threads +which were found in a small pool of candle grease on a veranda roof. As +it turned out, they were from the trouser knee of a man who had knelt +there to open a window. The patent absurdity of leaving threads from +one's trouser knee, amused me very much, but the accommodating criminals +in fiction almost always leave threads or shreds behind them. And surely +a gold-mesh bag, with its thousands of links would be a fine trap to +catch some threads of evidence, however minute they might be. + +Furthermore I decided to probe further into that yellow rose business. I +was not at all sure that those petals I found on the floor had anything +to do with Miss Lloyd's roses, but it must be a question possible of +settlement, if I went about it in the right way. At any rate, though +I had definite work ahead of me, my duty just now was to listen to the +forthcoming evidence, though I could not help thinking I could have put +questions more to the point than Mr. Monroe did. + +Of course the coroner's inquest was not formally conducted as a trial by +jury would be, and so any one spoke, if he chose, and the coroner seemed +really glad when suggestions were offered him. + +At this point Philip Crawford rose. + +“It is impossible,” he said, “not to see whither these questions are +tending. But you are on the wrong tack, Mr. Coroner. No matter how +evidence may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd's association with this +crime, it is only seeming. That gold bag might have been hers and it +might not. But if she says it isn't, why, then it isn't! Notwithstanding +the state of affairs between my brother and his niece, there is not +the shadow of a possibility that the young woman is implicated in +the slightest degree, and the sooner you leave her name out of +consideration, and turn your search into other channels, the sooner you +will find the real criminal.” + +It was not so much the words of Philip Crawford, as the sincere way in +which they were spoken, that impressed me. Surely he was right; surely +this beautiful girl was neither principal nor accessory in the awful +crime which, by a strange coincidence, gave to her her fortune and her +lover. + +“Mr. Crawford's right,” said Lemuel Porter. “If this jury allows itself +to be misled by a gold purse and two petals of a yellow rose, we are +unworthy to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, the long French windows +in the office were open, or, at least, unfastened all through the night. +We have that from the butler's testimony. He didn't lock them last +night; they were found unlocked this morning. Therefore, I hold that +an intruder, either man or woman, may have come in during the night, +accomplished the fatal deed, and departed without any one being the +wiser. That this intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the bag she left +behind her. For, as Mr. Crawford has said, if Miss Lloyd denies the +ownership of that bag, it is not hers.” + +After all, these declarations were proof, of a sort. If Mr. Porter and +Mr. Philip Crawford, who had known Florence Lloyd for years, spoke thus +positively of her innocence, it could not be doubted. + +And then the voice of Parmalee again sounded in my ears. + +“Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford would stand up for Miss Lloyd; it +would be strange if they didn't. And of course, Mrs. Pierce will do all +she can to divert suspicion. But the evidences are against her.” + +“They only seem to be,” I corrected. “Until we prove the gold bag and +the yellow rose to be hers; there is no evidence against her at all.” + +“She also had motive and opportunity. Those two points are of quite as +much importance as evidence.” + +“She had motive and opportunity,” I agreed, “but they were not +exclusive. As Mr. Porter pointed out, the open windows gave opportunity +that was world wide; and as to motive, how are we to know who had or who +hadn't it.” + +“You're right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too positive of Miss Lloyd's +implication in the matter, but I'm quite willing to be convinced to the +contrary.” + +The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course not audible to any one save +myself. But the speeches which had been made by Mr. Crawford and Mr. +Porter, and which, strange to say, amounted to an arraignment and a +vindication almost in the same breath, had a decided effect upon the +assembly. + +Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory Hall looked startled, as +if the mere idea of Miss Lloyd's implication was a new thought to him. +Lawyer Randolph looked considerably disturbed, and I at once suspected +that his legal mind would not allow him to place too much dependence on +the statements of the girl's sympathetic friends. + +Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors whom I liked, seemed to be +thoughtfully weighing the evidence. He was not so well acquainted with +Miss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in her behalf, and he made +a remark somewhat diffidently. + +“I agree,” he said, “with the sentiments just expressed; but I also +think that we should endeavor to find some further clues or evidence. +Had Mr. Crawford any enemies who would come at night to kill him? Or are +there any valuables missing? Could robbery have been the motive?” + +“It does not seem so,” replied the coroner. “Nothing is known to be +missing. Mr. Crawford's watch and pocket money were not disturbed.” + +“The absence of the weapon is a strange factor in the case,” put in Mr. +Orville, apparently desirous of having his voice heard as well as those +of the other jurors. + +“Yes,” agreed Mr. Monroe; “and yet it is not strange that the criminal +carried away with him what might have been a proof of his identity.” + +“Does Miss Lloyd own a pistol?” blurted out Mr. Parmalee. + +Gregory Hall gave him an indignant look, but Coroner Monroe seemed +rather glad to have the question raised--probably so that it could be +settle at once in the negative. + +And it was. + +“No,” replied Mrs. Pierce, when the query was put to her. “Both Florence +and I are desperately afraid of firearms. We wouldn't dream of owning a +pistol--either of us.” + +Of course, this was significant, but in no way decisive. Granting that +Miss Lloyd could have been the criminal, it would have been possible +for her secretly to procure a revolver, and secretly to dispose of it +afterward. Then, too, a small revolver had been used. To be sure, +this did not necessarily imply that a woman had used it, but, taken in +connection with the bag and the rose petals, it gave food for thought. + +But the coroner seemed to think Mrs. Pierce's assertions greatly in +Miss Lloyd's favor, and, being at the end of his list of witnesses, he +inquired if any one else in the room knew of anything that could throw +light on the matter. + +No one responded to this invitation, and the coroner then directed the +jury to retire to find a verdict. The six men passed into another room, +and I think no one who awaited their return apprehended any other result +than the somewhat unsatisfactory one of “person or persons unknown.” + +And this was what the foreman announced when the jury returned after +their short collocation. + +Then, as a jury, they were dismissed, but from that moment the mystery +of Joseph Crawford's death became the absorbing thought of all West +Sedgwick. + +“The murderer of my brother shall be found and brought to justice!” + declared Philip Crawford, and all present seemed to echo his vow. + +Then and there, Mr. Crawford retained Lawyer Randolph to help him +in running down the villain, and, turning to me, asked to engage my +services also. + +To this, I readily agreed, for I greatly desired to go on with the +matter, and cared little whether I worked for an individual or for the +State. + +Of course Mr. Crawford's determination to find the murderer proved anew +his conviction that Florence Lloyd was above all suspicion, but in the +face of certain details of the evidence so far, I could not feel so +absolutely certain of this. + +However, it was my business to follow up every clue, or apparent clue, +and every bit of evidence, and this I made up my mind to do, regardless +of consequences. + +I confess it was difficult for me to feel regardless of consequences, +for I had a haunting fear that the future was going to look dark for +Florence Lloyd. And if it should be proved that she was in any way +responsible for or accessory to this crime, I knew I should wish I had +had nothing to do with discovering that fact. But back of this was an +undefined but insistent conviction that the girl was innocent, and +that I could prove it. This may have been an inordinate faith in my own +powers, or it may have been a hope born of my admiration for the young +woman herself. For there is no doubt, that for the first time in my life +I was taking a serious interest in a woman's personality. Heretofore +I had been a general admirer of womankind, and I had naturally treated +them all with chivalry and respect. But now I had met one whom I desired +to treat in a far tenderer way, and to my chagrin I realized that I had +no right to entertain such thoughts toward a girl already betrothed. + +So I concluded to try my best to leave Florence Lloyd's personality out +of the question, to leave my feelings toward her out of the question, +and to devote my energies to real work on the case and prove by +intelligent effort that I could learn facts from evidence without +resorting to the microscopic methods of Fleming Stone. I purposely +ignored the fact that I would have been only too glad to use these +methods had I the power to do so! + + + + +IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE + + +For the next day or two the Crawford house presented the appearance +usual in any home during the days immediately preceding a funeral. + +By tacit consent, all reference to the violence of Mr. Crawford's +death was avoided, and a rigorous formality was the keynote of all the +ceremonies. The servants were garbed in correct mourning, the ladies of +the house refused to see anybody, and all personal callers were met by +Philip Crawford or his wife, while business acquaintances were received +by Gregory Hall. + +As private secretary, of course Mr. Hall was in full charge of Mr. +Crawford's papers and personal effects. But, in addition to this, as the +prospective husband of the heiress, he was practically the head of the +house. + +He showed no elation or ostentation at this state of affairs, but +carried himself with an air of quiet dignity, tinged with a suggestion +of sadness, which, if merely conventional, seemed none the less sincere. + +I soon learned that the whole social atmosphere of West Sedgwick was +one of extreme formality, and everything was done in accordance with the +most approved conventions. Therefore, I found I could get no chance for +a personal conversation with Miss Lloyd until after the funeral. + +I had, however, more or less talk with Gregory Hall, and as I became +acquainted with him, I liked him less. + +He was of a cold and calculating disposition, and when we were alone, he +did not hesitate to gloat openly over his bright prospects. + +“Terrible thing, to be put out of existence like that,” he said, as we +sat in Mr. Crawford's office, looking over some papers; “but it solved a +big problem for Florence and me. However, we'll be married as soon as we +decently can, and then we'll go abroad, and forget the tragic part of it +all.” + +“I suppose you haven't a glimmer of a suspicion as to who did it,” I +ventured. + +“No, I haven't. Not the faintest notion. But I wish you could find +out. Of course, nobody holds up that bag business as against Florence, +but--it's uncomfortable all the same. I wish I'd been here that night. +I'm 'most sure I'd have heard a shot, or something.” + +“Where were you?” I said, in a careless tone. + +Hall drew himself up stiffly. “Excuse me,” he said. “I declined to +answer that question before. Since I was not in West Sedgwick, it can +matter to no one where I was.” + +“Oh, that's all right,” I returned affably, for I had no desire to get +his ill will. “But of course we detectives have to ask questions. By the +way, where did you buy Miss Lloyd's yellow roses?” + +“See here,” said Gregory Hall, with a petulant expression, “I don't want +to be questioned. I'm not on the witness-stand, and, as I've told you, +I'm uncomfortable already about these so-called `clues' that seem to +implicate Miss Lloyd. So, if you please, I'll say nothing.” + +“All right,” I responded, “just as you like.” + +I went away from the house, thinking how foolish people could be. I +could easily discover where he bought the roses, as there were only +three florists' shops in West Sedgwick and I resolved to go at once to +hunt up the florist who sold them. + +Assuming he would naturally go to the shop nearest the railroad station, +and which was also on the way from the Crawford house, I went there +first, and found my assumption correct. + +The florist was more than willing to talk on the subject. + +“Yes, sir,” he said; “I sold those roses to Mr. Hall--sold 'em to him +myself. He wanted something extra nice, and I had just a dozen of those +big yellow beauties. No, I don't raise my own flowers. I get 'em from +the city. And so I had just that dozen, and I sent 'em right up. Well, +there was some delay, for two of my boys were out to supper, and I +waited for one to get back.” + +“And you had no other roses just like these in stock?” + +“No, sir. Hadn't had for a week or more. Haven't any now. May not get +any more at all. They're a scarce sort, at best, and specially so this +year.” + +“And you sent Miss Lloyd the whole dozen?” + +“Yes, sir; twelve. I like to put in an extra one or two when I can, but +that time I couldn't. There wasn't another rose like them short of New +York City.” + +I thanked the florist, and, guessing that he was not above it, I gave +him a more material token of my gratitude for his information, and then +walked slowly back to my room at the inn. + +Since there were no other roses of that sort in West Sedgwick that +evening, it seemed to me as if Florence Lloyd must have gone down to her +uncle's office after having pinned the blossom on her bodice. The only +other possibility was that some intruder had entered by way of the +French window wearing or carrying a similar flower, and that this +intruder had come from New York, or at least from some place other than +West Sedgwick. It was too absurd. Murderers don't go about decked with +flowers, and yet at midnight a man in evening dress was not impossible, +and evening dress might easily imply a boutonniere. + +Well, this well-dressed man I had conjured up in my mind must have come +from out of town, or else whence the flower, after all? + +And then I bethought myself of that late newspaper. An extra, printed +probably as late as eleven o'clock at night, must have been brought +out to West Sedgwick by a traveller on some late train. Why not Gregory +Hall, himself? I let my imagination run riot for a minute. Mr. Hall +refused to say where he was on the night of the murder. Why not assume +that he had come out from New York, in evening dress, at or about +midnight? This would account for the newspaper and the yellow rose +petals, for, if he bought a boutonniere in the city, how probable he +would select the same flower he had just sent his fiancee. + +I rather fancied the idea of Gregory Hall as the criminal. He had the +same motive as Miss Lloyd. He knew of her uncle's objection to their +union, and his threat of disinheritance. How easy for him to come out +late from New York, on a night when he was not expected, and remove +forever the obstacle to his future happiness! + +I drew myself up with a start. This was not detective work. This was +mere idle speculation. I must shake it off, and set about collecting +some real evidence. + +But the thought still clung to me; mere speculation it might be, but it +was founded on the same facts that already threw suspicion on Florence +Lloyd. With the exception of the gold bag--and that she disclaimed--such +evidence as I knew of pointed toward Mr. Hall as well as toward Miss +Lloyd. + +However at present I was on the trail of those roses, and I determined +to follow that trail to a definite end. I went back to the Crawford +house and as I did not like to ask for Miss Lloyd, I asked for Mrs. +Pierce. + +She came down to the drawing room, and greeted me rather more cordially +than I had dared to hope. I had a feeling that both ladies resented my +presence there, for so many women have a prejudice against detectives. + +But though nervous and agitated, Mrs. Pierce spoke to me kindly. + +“Did you want to see me for anything in particular, Mr. Burroughs?” she +asked. + +“Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce,” I replied; “I may as well tell you frankly +that I want to find out all I can about those yellow roses.” + +“Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure you, Mr. +Burroughs, they're of no importance whatever.” + +“That is not for you to decide,” I said quietly, and I began to see +that perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be the best way to manage this +lady. “Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd's room? If so I +wish to see them.” + +“I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and if so +I'll bring them down.” + +“No,” I said, “I will go with you to see them.” + +“But Florence may be in her room.” + +“So much the better. She can tell me anything I wish to know.” + +“Oh, please don't interview her! I'm sure she wouldn't want to talk with +you.” + +“Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, and I will go there with +you now.” + +Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too far or +had overstepped my authority. But it was surely my duty to learn all I +could about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising of suggestions as her +own room? + +Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and affably enough she asked me +to accompany her to Miss Lloyd's room. + +I did so, and after entering devoted my whole attention to the bunch of +yellow roses, which in a glass vase stood on the window seat. Although +somewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and without the slightest +doubt were the kind of rose from which the two tell-tale petals had +fallen. + +Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. There were nine, each one +seemingly with its full complement of petals, though of this I could not +be perfectly certain. + +“Now, Mrs.--Pierce,” I said, turning to her with an air of authority +which was becoming difficult to maintain, “where are the roses which +Miss Lloyd admits having pinned to her gown?” + +“Mercy! I don't know,” exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, looking bewildered. “I +suppose she threw them away.” + +“I suppose she did,” I returned; “would she not be likely to throw them +in the waste basket?” + +“She might,” returned Mrs. Pierce, turning toward an ornate affair of +wicker-work and pink ribbons. + +Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps of paper, were two +exceedingly withered yellow roses. I picked them out and examined them, +but in their present state it was impossible to tell whether they had +lost any petals or not, so I threw them back in the basket. + +Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence or deduction in the +matter, but began to lament the carelessness of the chambermaid who had +not emptied the waste basket the day before. + +But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, and began pondering on +this new development of the rose question. The nine roses in the vase +and the two in the basket made but eleven, and the florist had told me +that he had sent a dozen. Where was the twelfth? + +The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd might have put away one as a +sentimental souvenir, but to my mind she did not seem the kind of a girl +to do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, for what man can predicate +what a woman will do? but at the same time I could not seem to imagine +the statuesque, imperial Miss Lloyd tenderly preserving a rose that her +lover had given her. + +But might not Gregory Hall have taken one of the dozen for himself +before sending the rest? This was merely surmise, but it was a +possibility, and at any rate the twelfth rose was not in Miss Lloyd's +room. + +Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be reckoned with, a bit of +evidence to be found; and I determined to find it. + +I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an interview with Miss Lloyd, but +the elder lady seemed doubtful. + +“I'm quite sure she won't see you,” she said, “for she has declared she +will see no one until after the funeral. But if you want me to ask her +anything for you, I will do so.” + +“Very well,” I said, surprised at her willingness; “please ask Miss +Lloyd if she knows what became of the twelfth yellow rose; and beg her +to appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in the case.” + +Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went down the stairs she +promised to join me in the library a few moments later. + +She kept her promise, and I waited eagerly her report. + +“Miss Lloyd bids me tell you,” she said, “that she knows nothing of what +you call the twelfth rose. She did not count the roses, she merely took +two of them to pin on her dress, and when she retired, she carelessly +threw those two in the waste basket. She thinks it probable there +were only eleven in the box when it arrived. But at any rate she knows +nothing more of the matter.” + +I thanked Mrs. Pierce for her courtesy and patience, and feeling that I +now had a real problem to consider, I started back to the inn. + +It could not be that this rose matter was of no importance. For the +florist had assured me he had sold exactly twelve flowers to Mr. Gregory +Hall, and of these, I could account for only eleven. The twelfth rose +must have been separated from the others, either by Mr. Hall, at the +time of purchase, or by some one else later. If the petals found on the +floor fell from that twelfth rose, and if Florence Lloyd spoke the +truth when she declared she knew nothing of it, then she was free from +suspicion in that direction. + +But until I could make some further effort to find out about the missing +rose I concluded to say nothing of it to anybody. I was not bound to +tell Parmalee any points I might discover, for though colleagues, we +were working independently of each other. + +But as I was anxious to gather any side lights possible, I determined to +go for a short conference with the district attorney, in whose hands the +case had been put after the coroner's inquest. + +He was a man named Goodrich, a quiet mannered, untalkative person, and +as might be expected he had made little or no progress as yet. + +He said nothing could be done until after the funeral and the reading of +the will, which ceremonies would occur the next afternoon. + +I talked but little to Mr. Goodrich, yet I soon discovered that he +strongly suspected Miss Lloyd of the crime, either as principal or +accessory. + +“But I can't believe it,” I objected. “A girl, delicately brought up, +in refined and luxurious surroundings, does not deliberately commit an +atrocious crime.” + +“A woman thwarted in her love affair will do almost anything,” declared +Mr. Goodrich. “I have had more experience than you, my boy, and I advise +you not to bank too much on the refined and luxurious surroundings. +Sometimes such things foster crime instead of preventing it. But the +truth will come out, and soon, I think. The evidence that seems to point +to Miss Lloyd can be easily proved or disproved, once we get at the work +in earnest. That coroner's jury was made up of men who were friends and +neighbors of Mr. Crawford. They were so prejudiced by sympathy for Miss +Lloyd, and indignation at the unknown criminal, that they couldn't give +unbiased judgment. But we will yet see justice done. If Miss Lloyd is +innocent, we can prove it. But remember the provocation she was under. +Remember the opportunity she had, to visit her uncle alone in his +office, after every one else in the house was asleep. Remember that she +had a motive--a strong motive--and no one else had.” + +“Except Mr. Gregory Hall,” I said meaningly. + +“Yes; I grant he had the same motive. But he is known to have left town +at six that evening, and did not return until nearly noon the next day. +That lets him out.” + +“Yes, unless he came back at midnight, and then went back to the city +again.” + +“Nonsense!” said Mr. Goodrich. “That's fanciful. Why, the latest +train--the theatre train, as we call it--gets in at one o'clock, and +it's always full of our society people returning from gayeties in New +York. He would have been seen had he come on that train, and there is no +later one.” + +I didn't stay to discuss the matter further. Indeed, Mr. Goodrich had +made me feel that my theories were fanciful. + +But whatever my theories might be there were still facts to be +investigated. + +Remembering my determination to examine that gold bag more thoroughly +I asked Mr. Goodrich to let me see it, for of course, as district +attorney, it was now in his possession. + +He gave it to me with an approving nod. “That's the way to work,” he +said. “That bag is your evidence. Now from that, you detectives must go +ahead and learn the truth.” + +“Whose bag is it?” I said, with the intention of drawing him out. + +“It's Miss Lloyd's bag,” he said gravely. “Any woman in the world +would deny its ownership, in the existing circumstances, and I am +not surprised that she did so. Nor do I blame her for doing so. Self +preservation is a mighty strong impulse in the human heart, and we've +all got a right to obey it.” + +As I took the gold bag from his hand, I didn't in the least believe that +Florence Lloyd was the owner of it, and I resolved anew to prove this to +the satisfaction of everybody concerned. + +Mr. Goodrich turned away and busied himself about other matters, and I +devoted myself to deep study. + +The contents of the bag proved as blank and unsuggestive as ever. The +most exhaustive examination of its chain, its clasp and its thousands of +links gave me not the tiniest thread or shred of any sort. + +But as I poked and pried around in its lining I found a card, which had +slipped between the main lining and an inside pocket. + +I drew it out as carefully as I could, and it proved to be a small plain +visiting card bearing the engraved name, “Mrs. Egerton Purvis.” + +I sat staring at it, and then furtively glanced at Mr. Goodrich. He was +not observing me, and I instinctively felt that I did not wish him to +know of the card until I myself had given the matter further thought. + +I returned the card to its hiding place and returned the bag to Mr. +Goodrich, after which I went away. + +I had not copied the name, for it was indelibly photographed upon my +brain. As I walked along the street I tried to construct the personality +of Mrs. Egerton Purvis from her card. But I was able to make no rational +deductions, except that the name sounded aristocratic, and was quite in +keeping with the general effect of the bag and its contents. + +To be sure I might have deduced that she was a lady of average height +and size, because she wore a number six glove; that she was careful of +her personal appearance, because she possessed a vanity case; that she +was of tidy habits, because she evidently expected to send her gowns +to be cleaned. But all these things seemed to me puerile and even +ridiculous, as such characteristics would apply to thousands of woman +all over the country. + +Instead of this, I went straight to the telegraph office and wired to +headquarters in a cipher code. I instructed them to learn the identity +and whereabouts of Mrs. Egerton Purvis, and advise me as soon as +possible. + +Then I returned to the Sedgwick Arms, feeling decidedly well satisfied +with my morning's work, and content to wait until after Mr. Crawford's +funeral to do any further real work in the matter. + + + + +X. THE WILL + + +I went to the Crawford house on the day of the funeral; but as I reached +there somewhat earlier than the hour appointed, I went into the office +with the idea of looking about for further clues. + +In the office I found Gregory Hall; looking decidedly disturbed. + +“I can't find Mr. Crawford's will,” he said, as he successively looked +through one drawer after another. + +“What!” I responded. “Hasn't that been located already?” + +“No; it's this way: I didn't see it here in this office, or in the New +York office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had it in his possession. But +it seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only this morning we +discovered our mutual error, and Mr. Randolph concluded it must be in +Mr. Crawford's safety deposit box at the bank in New York. So Mr. Philip +Crawford hurried through his administration papers--he is to be executor +of the estate--and went in to get it from the bank. But he has just +returned with the word that it wasn't there. So we've no idea where it +is.” + +“Oh, well,” said I, “since he hadn't yet made the new will he had in +mind, everything belongs to Miss Lloyd.” + +“That's just the point,” said Hall, his face taking on a despairing +look. “If we don't find that will, she gets nothing!” + +“How's that?” I said. + +“Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece of Joseph +Crawford's wife. So in the absence of a will his property will all go to +his brother Philip, who is his legal heir.” + +“Oho!” I exclaimed. “This is a new development. But the will will turn +up.” + +“Oh, yes, I'm sure of it,” returned Hall, but his anxious face showed +anything but confidence in his own words. + +“But,” I went on, “didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's giving +all his fortune to Miss Lloyd?” + +“It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford's +determination. And I fancy Philip didn't make any great disturbance +about it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he chose with his +own, and the will gave Philip a nice little sum, any way. Not much, +compared to the whole fortune, but, still, a generous bequest.” + +“What does Mr. Randolph say?” + +“He's completely baffled. He doesn't know what to think.” + +“Can it have been stolen?” + +“Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed it +because he expected to make a different one. In that case, Florence is +penniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford chooses to bestow on +her.” + +I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was distinctly +aggrieved, and gave the impression that Florence Lloyd, penniless, +was of far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her uncle's +millions. + +“But he would doubtless provide properly for her,” I said. + +“Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself in a very different +position, dependent on his generosity, from what she would be as sole +heir to her uncle's fortune.” + +I looked steadily at the man. Although not well acquainted with him, I +couldn't resist giving expression to my thought. + +“But since you are to marry her,” I said, “she need not long be +dependent upon her uncle's charity.” + +“Philip Crawford isn't really her uncle, and no one can say what he will +do in the matter.” + +Gregory Hall was evidently greatly disturbed at the new situation +brought about by the disappearance of Mr. Crawford's will. But +apparently the main reason for his disturbance was the impending poverty +of his fiancee. There was no doubt that Mr. Carstairs and others who had +called this man a fortune-hunter had judged him rightly. + +However, without further words on the subject, I waited while Hall +locked the door of the office, and then we went together to the great +drawing-room, where the funeral services were about to take place. + +I purposely selected a position from which I could see the faces of the +group of people most nearly connected with the dead man. I had a strange +feeling, as I looked at them, that one of them might be the instrument +of the crime which had brought about this funeral occasion. + +During the services I looked closely and in turn at each face, but +beyond the natural emotions of grief which might be expected, I could +read nothing more. + +The brother, Philip Crawford, the near neighbors, Mr. Porter and Mr. +Hamilton, the lawyer, Mr. Randolph, all sat looking grave and solemn as +they heard the last words spoken above their dead friend. The ladies of +the household, quietly controlling their emotions, sat near me, and next +to Florence Lloyd Gregory Hall had seated himself. + +All of these people I watched closely, half hoping that some inadvertent +sign might tell me of someone's knowledge of the secret. But when +the clergyman referred to the retribution that would sooner or later +overtake the criminal. I could see an expression of fear or apprehension +on no face save that of Florence Lloyd. She turned even whiter than +before, her pale lips compressed in a straight line, and her small black +gloved hand softly crept into that of Gregory Hall. The movement was +not generally noticeable, but it seemed to me pathetic above all things. +Whatever her position in the matter, she was surely appealing to him for +help and protection. + +Without directly repulsing her, Hall was far from responsive. He allowed +her hand to rest in his own but gave her no answering pressure, and +looked distinctly relieved when, after a moment, she withdrew it. + +I saw that Parmalee also had observed this, and I could see that to him +it was an indication of the girl's perturbed spirit. To me it seemed +that it might equally well mean many other things. For instance it might +mean her apprehension for Gregory Hall, who, I couldn't help thinking +was far more likely to be a wrongdoer than the girl herself. + +With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean much information from the +present opportunity, and contented myself with the melancholy pleasure +it gave me simply to look at the sad sweet face of the girl who was +already enshrined in my heart. + +After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies were over, a little +assembly gathered in the library to hear the reading of the will. + +As, until then, no one had known of the disappearance of the will, +except the lawyer and the secretary, it came as a thunderbolt. + +“I have no explanation to offer,” said Mr. Randolph, looking greatly +concerned, but free of all personal responsibility. “Mr. Crawford always +kept the will in his own possession. When he came to see me, the last +evening he was alive, in regard to making a new will, he did not bring +the old one with him. We arranged to meet in his office the next morning +to draw up the new instrument, when he doubtless expected to destroy the +old one. + +“He may have destroyed it on his return home that evening. I do not +know. But so far it has not been found among his papers in either of his +offices or in the bank. Of course it may appear, as the search, though +thorough, has not yet been exhaustive. We will, therefore, hold the +matter in abeyance a few days, hoping to find the missing document.” + +His hearers were variously affected by this news. Florence Lloyd was +simply dazed. She could not seem to grasp a situation which so suddenly +changed her prospects. For she well knew that in the event of no will +being found, Joseph Crawford's brother would be his rightful heir, and +she would be legally entitled to nothing at all. + +Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expressionless face. Quite able to +control his emotion, if he felt any, he made no sign that he welcomed +this possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly coming to him. + +Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had remained because of their close +friendship with the family, spoke out rather abruptly, + +“Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the man +destroyed one will before the other was drawn.” + +“I agree with you,” said Philip Crawford. + +“Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt if he +would really have changed his will. I think he merely threatened it, to +see if Florence persisted in keeping her engagement.” + +This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, +generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the estate. If no +will were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less the +hearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to +his credit as a man. + +“I think so, too,” agreed Mr. Porter. “As you know, I called on Mr. +Joseph Crawford during the--the last evening of his life.” + +The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance that +pictured itself to his mind. + +“Did he then refer to the matter of the will?” asked Mr. Randolph, in +gentle tones. + +“He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unless +Florence consented to his wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr. +Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest.” + +“In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?” + +“I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to be +too hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new will until he +had thought it over more deliberately.” + +“What did he then say?” + +“Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other matters, and +the will was not again referred to. But I can't help thinking he had not +destroyed it.” + +At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at Gregory +Hall, she gave a little sigh, and remained silent. + +“You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of the will, +Mr. Hall?” asked Mr. Randolph. + +“No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarrassing for me. +I can only say that I have known for a long time the terms of Mr. +Crawford's existing will; I have known of his threats of changing it; +I have known of his attitude toward my engagement to his niece. But +I never spoke to him on any of these subjects, nor he to me, though +several times I have thought he was on the point of doing so. I have had +access to most of his private papers, but of two or three small boxes he +always retained the keys. I had no curiosity concerning the contents +of these boxes, but I naturally assumed his will was in one of them. I +have, however, opened these boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, in company +with Mr. Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we discover any in +the New York office or in the bank. That is all I know of the matter.” + +Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even and, +indeed, cold. He was like a bystander, with no vital interest in the +subject he talked about. + +Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the conclusion +that he was a man of unusual self-control, and an ability to mask his +real feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more could be learned +at present, I left the group in the library discussing the loss of the +will, and went down to the district attorney's office. + +He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that it gave +us new fields for conjecture. + +“Now, we see,” he said eagerly, “that the motive for the murder was the +theft of the will.” + +“Not necessarily,” I replied. “Mr. Crawford may have destroyed the will +before he met his death.” + +“But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the motive. Now, +you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from suspicion. She would have no reason +to kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a will in her own favor.” + +“That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion,” said I, reverting +to my former theories. + +“Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by the +removal of the will. That, of course, would be the brother, Mr. Philip +Crawford.” + +I looked at the attorney a moment, and then burst into laughter. + +“My dear Mr. Goodrich,” I said, “don't be absurd! A man would hardly +shoot his own brother, but aside from that, why should Philip Crawford +kill Joseph just at the moment he is about to make a new will in +Philip's favor? Either the destruction of the old will or the drawing +of the new would result in Philip's falling heir to the fortune. So he +would hardly precipitate matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had +been keen about the money, he could have urged his brother to disinherit +Florence Lloyd, and Joseph would have willingly done so. He was on the +very point of doing so, any way.” + +“That's true,” said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but unconvinced. +“However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by removing her motive. +As you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in her favor, and thereby turn +the fortune over to Philip. And, as you also said, this lets Gregory +Hall out, too, though I never suspected him for a moment. But, of +course, his interests and Miss Lloyd's are identical.” + +“Wait a moment,” I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following one +another through my brain. “Not so fast, Mr. District Attorney. The +disappearance of the will does not remove motive from the possibility of +Miss Lloyd's complicity in this crime--or Mr. Hall's either.” + +“How so?” + +“Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession of that +will, her motive was identically the same as if he had possessed it. +Now, she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise at the news of +its loss was as unfeigned as my own. And of course Hall thought the will +was among Mr. Crawford's effects, for he has been searching constantly +since the question was raised.” + +“But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd's +innocence,” objected Mr. Goodrich. + +“I was,” I said slowly, “and I think I am still. But in the light of +absolute evidence I am only declaring that the non-appearance of that +will in no way interferes with the motive Miss Lloyd must have had if +she is in any way guilty. She knew, or thought she knew, that the will +was there, in her favor. She knew her uncle intended to revoke it +and make another in her disfavor. I do not accuse her--I'm not sure I +suspect her--I only say she had motive and opportunity.” + +As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich's office, those words rang in my +mind, motive and opportunity. Truly they applied to Mr. Hall as well as +to Miss Lloyd, although of course it would mean Hall's coming out from +the city and returning during the night. And though this might have +been a difficult thing to do secretly, it was by no means impossible. He +might not have come all the way to West Sedgwick Station, but might have +dropped off the train earlier and taken the trolley. The trolley! that +thought reminded me of the transfer I had picked up on the grass plot +near the office veranda. Was it possible that slip of paper was a clue, +and pointing toward Hall? + +Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, but hopeful of learning +something about him, I strolled back to the Crawford house. I went +directly to the office, and by good luck found Gregory Hall there alone. +He was still searching among the papers of Mr. Crawford's desk. + +“Ah, Mr. Burroughs,” he said, as I entered, “I'm glad to see you. If +detectives detect, you have a fine chance here to do a bit of good work. +I wouldn't mind offering you an honorarium myself, if you could unearth +the will that has so mysteriously disappeared.” + +Hall's whole manner had changed. He had laid aside entirely the grave +demeanor which he had shown at the funeral, and was again the alert +business man. He was more than this. He was eager,--offensively so,--in +his search for the will. It needed no detective instinct to see that +the fortune of Joseph Crawford and its bestowment were matters of vital +interest to him. + +But though his personal feelings on the subject might be distasteful to +me, it was certainly part of my duty to aid in the search, and so with +him I looked through the various drawers and filing cabinets. The papers +representing or connected with the financial interests of the late +millionaire were neatly filed and labelled; but in some parts of +the desk we found the hodge-podge of personal odds and ends which +accumulates with nearly everybody. + +Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they showed a +possibility of casting some light on Mr. Crawford's personal affairs. + +But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper clippings, and +such things, there was nothing that seemed of the slightest interest, +until at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested my attention. + +“Do you know who this is?” I inquired. + +“No,” returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; “a friend of Mr. +Crawford's, I suppose.” + +“More than a friend, I should judge,” and I turned the back of the +picture toward him. Across it was written, “with loving Christmas +greetings, from M.S.P.”; and it was dated as recently as the Christmas +previous. + +“Well,” said Hall, “Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who cared +enough about him to send an affectionate greeting, but I never heard +of her before, and I doubt if she is in any way responsible for the +disappearance of this will.” + +He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to the +photograph. But to me it seemed important. I alone knew of the visiting +card in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag belonged to a lady +named Purvis. And here was a photograph initialed by a lady whose +surname began with P, and who was unmistakably on affectionate terms +with Mr. Crawford. To my mind the links began to form a chain; the lady +who had sent her photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bag +in Mr. Crawford's office the night he was killed, surely was a lady to +be questioned. + +But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so I said +nothing to Hall on this subject, and putting the photograph in my pocket +continued to assist him to look for the will, but without success. +However, the discovery of the photograph had in a measure diverted my +suspicions from Gregory Hall; and though I endeavored to draw him into +general conversation, I did not ask him any definite questions about +himself. + +But the more I talked with him, the more I disliked him: He not only +showed a mercenary, fortune-hunting spirit, but he showed himself in +many ways devoid of the finer feelings and chivalrous nature that ought +to belong to the man about to marry such a perfect flower of womanhood +as Florence Lloyd. + + + + +XI. LOUIS'S STORY + + +After spending an evening in thinking over the situation and piecing +together my clues, I decided that the next thing to be done was to trace +up that transfer. If I could fasten that upon Gregory Hall, it would +indeed be a starting point to work from. Although this seemed to +eliminate Mrs. Purvis, who had already become a living entity in my +mind, I still had haunting suspicions of Hall; and then, too, there was +a possibility of collusion between these two. It might be fanciful, but +if Hall and the Purvis woman were both implicated, Hall was quite enough +a clever villain to treat the photograph lightly as he had done. + +And so the next morning, I started for the office of the trolley car +company. + +I learned without difficulty that the transfer I had found, must have +been given to some passenger the night of Mr. Crawford's death, but +was not used. It had been issued after nine o'clock in the evening, +somewhere on the line between New York and West Sedgwick. It was a +transfer which entitled a passenger on that line to a trip on the branch +line running through West Sedgwick, and the fact that it had not been +used, implied either a negligent conductor or a decision on the part of +the passenger not to take his intended ride. + +All this was plausible, though a far from definite indication that Hall +might have come out from New York by trolley, or part way by trolley, +and though accepting a transfer on the West Sedgwick branch, had +concluded not to use it. But the whole theory pointed equally as well to +Mrs. Purvis, or indeed to the unknown intruder insisted upon by so many. +I endeavored to learn something from certain conductors who brought +their cars into West Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they carried +a great many passengers and of course could not identify a transfer, of +which scores of duplicates had been issued. + +Without much hope I interviewed the conductors of the West Sedgwick +Branch Line. Though I could learn nothing definite, I fell into +conversation with one of them, a young Irishman, who was interested +because of my connection with the mystery. + +“No, sir,” he said, “I can't tell you anythin' about a stray transfer. +But one thing I can tell you. That 'ere murder was committed of a +Toosday night, wasn't it?” + +“Yes,” I returned. + +“Well, that 'ere parlyvoo vally of Mr. Crawford's, he's rid, on my car +'most every Toosday night fer weeks and weeks. It's his night off. And +last Toosday night he didn't ride with me. Now I don't know's that means +anything, but agin it might.” + +It didn't seem to me that it meant much, for certainly Louis was not +under the slightest suspicion. And yet as I came to think about it, if +that had been Louis's transfer and if he had dropped it near the office +veranda, he had lied when he said that he went round the other side of +the house to reach the back entrance. + +It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself down to the point that +if that were Louis's transfer it could be proved; and if not it must be +investigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued at a definite hour, +and dropped just outside the scene of the crime was certainly a clue of +importance. + +I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though I intended to have a talk +with Louis later, I asked first for Miss Lloyd. Surely, if I were to +carry on my investigation of the case, in her interests, I must have a +talk with her. I had not intruded before, but now that the funeral was +over, the real work of tracking the criminal must be commenced, and as +one of the principal characters in the sad drama, Miss Lloyd must play +her part. + +Until I found myself in her presence I had not actually realized how +much I wanted this interview. + +I was sure that what she said, her manner and her facial expression, +must either blot out or strengthen whatever shreds of suspicion I held +against her. + +“Miss Lloyd,” I began, “I am, as you know, a detective; and I am here +in Sedgwick for the purpose of discovering the cowardly assassin of your +uncle. I assume that you wish to aid me in any way you can. Am I right +in this?” + +Instead of the unhesitating affirmative I had expected, the girl spoke +irresolutely. “Yes,” she said, “but I fear I cannot help you, as I know +nothing about it.” + +The fact that this reply did not sound to me as a rebuff, for which +it was doubtless intended, I can only account for by my growing +appreciation of her wonderful beauty. + +Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and her +simple wool gown gave her a statuesque appearance; which, however, was +contradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and the sad droop +of her lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed to me, and, though she +assumed an air of composure, I well knew it was only assumed, and that +with some difficulty. + +Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask her to +repeat the main facts, which I already knew. + +“Then, Miss Lloyd,” I said, in response to her disclaimer, “if you +cannot help me, perhaps I can help you. I have reason to think that +possibly Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell the truth in his +testimony at the coroner's inquest. I have reason to think that instead +of going around the house to the back entrance as he described, he went +around the other side, thus passing your uncle's office.” + +To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more seriously +than I supposed it would. + +“What?” she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. “What time did +he come home?” + +“I don't know,” I replied; “but you surely don't suspect Louis of +anything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pass the office he +might have looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's well-being at +that time.” + +“At what time?” + +“At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But since +you are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis and let us +question him together?” + +The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for a +moment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her part filled +my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louis +were in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I +remembered the strange looks he had cast at her while being questioned +by the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having passed the +office that evening,--too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I +were to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I would +rather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again asked +her to send for the valet. + +With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, she +rose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seat +and said quietly, “You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr. +Burroughs, but I beg you will not include me in the conversation.” + +“Not unless it should be necessary,” I replied coldly, for I did not +at all like her making this stipulation. To me it savored of a sort of +cowardice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry. + +When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much agitated +as Miss Lloyd. There was no longer a possibility of a doubt that these +two knew something, had some secret in common, which bore directly on +the case, and which must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my mind +that it might be only some trifling secret, which seemed of importance +to them, but which was merely a side issue of the great question. + +I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man's +perturbation, and without preliminary speech I drew the transfer from my +pocket and fairly flashed it in his face. + +“Louis,” I said sternly, “you dropped this transfer when you came home +the night of Mr. Crawford's death.” + +The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairly +frightened the truth out of the man. + +“Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at Miss +Lloyd, he stood nervously interlacing his fingers. + +I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entire +self-possession, and sat looking straight before her with an air that +seemed to say, “Go on, I'm prepared for the worst.” + +As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes of the two, I lost my +ground of vantage, for when I again spoke to the man, he too was more +composed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless he was influenced by +Miss Lloyd's demeanor, for he imitatively assumed a receptive air. + +“Where did you get the transfer?” I went on. + +“On the trolley, sir; the main line.” + +“To be used on the Branch Line through West Sedgwick?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“Why did you not use it?” + +“As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the coroner, I have spend +that evening with a young lady. We went for a trolley ride, and as we +returned I take a transfer for myself, but not for her, as she live near +where we alight.” + +“Oh, you left the main line and took the young lady home, intending then +yourself to come by trolley through West Sedgwick?” + +“Yes, sir; it was just that way.” + +At this point Louis seemed to forget his embarrassment, his gaze strayed +away, and a happy expression came into his eyes. I felt sure I was +reading his volatile French nature aright, when I assumed his mind had +turned back to the pleasant evening he had spent with his young lady +acquaintance. Somehow this went far to convince me of the fellow's +innocence for it was quite evident the murder and its mystery were not +uppermost in his thoughts at that moment. But my next question brought +him back to realization of the present situation. + +“And why didn't you use your transfer?” + +“Only that the night, he was so pleasant, I desired to walk.” + +“And so you walked through the village, holding, perhaps, the transfer +in your hand?” + +“I think, yes; but I do not remember the transfer in my hand, though he +may have been there.” + +And now the man's unquiet had returned. His lips twitched and his dark +eyes rolled about, as he endeavored in vain to look anywhere but at Miss +Lloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by a visible effort. + +Anxious to bring the matter to a crisis, I said at once, and directly: + +“And then you entered the gates of this place, you walked to the house, +you walked around the house to the back by way of the path which +leads around by the library veranda, and you accidentally dropped your +transfer near the veranda step.” + +I spoke quietly enough, but Louis immediately burst into voluble denial. + +“No, no!” he exclaimed; “I do not go round by the office, I go the other +side of the house. I have tell you so many times.” + +“But I myself picked up your transfer near the office veranda.” + +“Then he blow there. The wind blow that night, oh, something fearful! He +blow the paper around the house, I think.” + +“I don't think so,” I retorted; “I think you went around the house that +way, I think you paused at the office window--” + +Just here I made a dramatic pause myself, hoping thus to appeal to the +emotional nature of my victim. And I succeeded. Louis almost shrieked +as he pressed his hands against his eyes, and cried out: “No! no! I +tell you I did not go round that way! I go round the other way, and the +wind--the wind, he blow my transfer all about!” + +I tried a more quiet manner, I tried persuasive arguments, I finally +resorted to severity and even threats, but no admission could I get from +Louis, except that he had not gone round the house by way of the office. +I was positive the man was lying, and I was equally positive that Miss +Lloyd knew he was lying, and that she knew why, but the matter seemed +to me at a deadlock. I could have questioned her, but I preferred to do +that when Louis was not present. If she must suffer ignominy it need not +be before a servant. So I dismissed Louis, perhaps rather curtly, and +turning to Miss Lloyd, I asked her if she believed his assertion that he +did not pass by the office that night. + +“I don't know what I believe,” she answered, wearily drawing her hand +across her brow. “And I can't see that it matters anyway. Supposing +he did go by the office, you certainly don't suspect him of my uncle's +murder, do you?” + +“It is my duty, Miss Lloyd,” I said gently, for the girl was pitiably +nervous, “to get the testimony of any one who was in or near the office +that night. But of course testimony is useless unless it is true.” + +I looked her straight in the eyes as I said this, for I was thoroughly +convinced that her own testimony at the inquest had not been entirely +true. + +I think she understood my glance, for she arose at once, and said +with extreme dignity: “I cannot see any necessity for prolonging this +interview, Mr. Burroughs. It is of course your work to discover the +truth or falsity of Louis's story, but I cannot see that it in any way +implicates or even interests me.” + +The girl was superb. Her beauty was enhanced by the sudden spirit she +showed, and her flashing dark eyes suggested a baited animal at bay. +Apparently she had reached the limit of her endurance, and was unwilling +to be questioned further or drawn into further admissions. And yet, some +inexplicable idea came to me that she was angry, not with me, but with +the tangle in which I had remorselessly enmeshed her. Of a high order of +intelligence, she knew perfectly well that I was conscious of the fact +that there was a secret of some sort between her and the valet. Her +haughty disdain, I felt sure, was to convey the impression that though +there might be a secret between them, it was no collusion or working +together, and that though her understanding with the man was mysterious, +it was in no way beneath her dignity. Her imperious air as she quietly +left the room thrilled me anew, and I began to think that a woman who +could assume the haughty demeanor of an empress might have chosen, as +empresses had done before her, to commit crime. + +However, she went away, and the dark and stately library seemed to have +lost its only spot of light and charm. I sat for a few minutes pondering +over it all, when I saw passing through the hall, the maid, Elsa. It +suddenly occurred to me, that having failed with the mistress of the +house, I might succeed better with her maid, so I called the girl in. + +She came willingly enough, and though she seemed timid, she was not +embarrassed or afraid. + +“I'm in authority here,” I said, “and I'm going to ask you some +questions, which you must answer truthfully.” + +“Yes, sir,” she said, without any show of interest. + +“Have you been with Miss Lloyd long?” + +“Yes, sir; about four years, sir.” + +“Is she a kind mistress?” + +“Indeed she is, sir. She is the loveliest lady I ever worked for. I'd do +anything for Miss Lloyd, that I would.” + +“Well, perhaps you can best serve her by telling all you know about the +events of Tuesday night.” + +“But I don't know anything, sir,” and Elsa's eyes opened wide in +absolutely unfeigned wonderment. + +“Nothing about the actual murder; no, of course not. But I just want +you to tell me a few things about some minor matters. Did you take the +yellow flowers from the box that was sent to Miss Lloyd?” + +“Yes, sir; I always untie her parcels. And as she was at dinner, I +arranged the flowers in a vase of water.” + +“How many flowers were there?” + +For some reason this simple query disturbed the girl greatly. She +flushed scarlet, and then she turned pale. She twisted the corner of her +apron in her nervous fingers, and then said, only half audibly, “I don't +know, sir.” + +“Oh, yes, you do, Elsa,” I said in kindly tones, being anxious not to +frighten her; “tell me how many there were. Were there not a dozen?” + +“I don't know, sir; truly I don't. I didn't count them at all.” + +It was impossible to disbelieve her; she was plainly telling the truth. +And, too, why should she count the roses? The natural thing would be not +to count them, but merely to put them in the vase as she had said. And +yet, there was something about those flowers that Elsa knew and wouldn't +tell. Could it be that I was on the track of that missing twelfth rose? +I knew, though perhaps Elsa did not, how many roses the florist had sent +in that box. And unless Gregory Hall had abstracted one at the time of +his purchase, the twelfth rose had been taken by some one else after the +flowers reached the Crawford House. Could it have been Elsa, and was her +perturbation only because of a guilty conscience over a petty theft of a +flower? But I realized I must question her adroitly if I would find out +these things. + +“Is Miss Lloyd fond of flowers?” I asked, casually. + +“Oh, yes, sir, she always has some by her.” + +“And do you love flowers too, Elsa?” + +“Yes, sir.” But the quietly spoken answer, accompanied by a natural and +straightforward look promised little for my new theory. + +“Does Miss Lloyd sometimes give you some of her flowers?” + +“Oh, yes, sir, quite often.” + +“That is, if she's there when they arrive. But if she isn't there, and +you open the box yourself, she wouldn't mind if you took one or two +blossoms, would she?” + +“Oh, no, sir, she wouldn't mind. Miss Lloyd's awful kind about such +things. But I wouldn't often do it, sir.” + +“No; of course not. But you did happen to take one of those yellow +roses, didn't you, though?” + +I breathlessly awaited the answer, but to my surprise, instead of +embarrassment the girl's eyes flashed with anger, though she answered +quietly enough, “Well, yes, I did, sir.” + +Ah, at last I was on the trail of that twelfth rose! But from the frank +way in which the girl admitted having taken the flower, I greatly feared +that the trail would lead to a commonplace ending. + +“What did you do with it?” I said quietly, endeavoring to make the +question sound of little importance. + +“I don't want to tell you;” and the pout on her scarlet lips seemed more +like that of a wilful child than of one guarding a guilty secret. + +“Oh, yes, tell me, Elsa;” and I even descended to a coaxing tone, to win +the girl's confidence. + +“Well, I gave it to that Louis.” + +“To Louis? and why do you call him that Louis?” + +“Oh, because. I gave him the flower to wear because I thought he was +going to take me out that evening. He had promised he would, at least he +had sort of promised, and then,--and then--” + +“And then he took another young lady,” I finished for her in tones of +such sympathy and indignation that she seemed to think she had found a +friend. + +“Yes,” she said, “he went and took another girl riding on the trolley, +after he had said he would take me.” + +“Elsa,” I said suddenly, and I fear she thought I had lost interest in +her broken heart, “did Louis wear that rose you gave him that night?” + +“Yes, the horrid man! I saw it in his coat when he went away.” + +“And did he wear it home again?” + +“How should I know?” Elsa tossed her head with what was meant to be a +haughty air, but which was belied by the blush that mantled her cheek at +her own prevarication. + +“But you do know,” I insisted, gently; “did he wear it when he came +home?” + +“Yes, he did.” + +“How do you know?” + +“Because I looked in his room the next day, and I saw it there all +withered. He had thrown it on the floor!” + +The tragedy in Elsa's eyes at this awful relation of the cruelty of +the sterner sex called for a spoken sympathy, and I said at once, and +heartily: “That was horrid of him! If I were you I'd never give him +another flower.” + +In accordance with the natural impulses of her sex, Elsa seemed pleased +at my disapproval of Louis's behavior, but she by no means looked as if +she would never again bestow her favor upon him. She smiled and tossed +her head, and seemed willing enough for further conversation, but for +the moment I felt that I had enough food for thought. So I dismissed +Elsa, having first admonished her not to repeat our conversation to any +one. In order to make sure that I should be obeyed in this matter, I +threatened her with some unknown terrors which the law would bring upon +her if she disobeyed me. When I felt sure she was thoroughly frightened +into secrecy concerning our interview, I sent her away and began to +cogitate on what she had told me. + +If Louis came to the house late that night, as by his own admission +he did; if he went around the house on the side of the office, as the +straying transfer seemed to me to prove; and if, at the time, he was +wearing in his coat a yellow rose with petals similar to those found on +the office floor the next morning, was not one justified in looking more +deeply into the record of Louis the valet? + + + + +XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION + + +Elsa had been gone but a few moments when Florence Lloyd returned to the +library. I arose to greet her and marvelled at the change which had come +over her. Surely here was a girl of a thousand moods. She had left +me with an effect of hauteur and disdain; she returned, gentle and +charming, almost humble. I could not understand it, and remained +standing after she had seated herself, awaiting developments. + +“Sit down, Mr. Burroughs,” she said, and her low, sweet voice seemed +full of cordial invitation. “I'm afraid I was rude to you, when I went +away just now; and I want to say that if I can tell you anything you +wish to know, I should be glad to do so.” + +I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. My heart was pounding with +excitement at this new phase of the girl's nature. For an instant it +seemed as if she must have a personal kindly feeling toward me, and +then my reason returned, and with a suddenly falling heart and slowing +pulses, I realized that I was a fool, and that after thinking over the +disclosures Louis had made, Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it was +to her best advantage to curry favor with the detective. This knowledge +came to me instinctively, and so I distrusted her gentle voice and +winning smile, and hardening my heart against her, I resolved to turn +this new mood of hers to my own advantage, and learn what I could while +she was willing to converse: + +“I'm glad of this opportunity, Miss Lloyd,” I said, “for there are some +phases of this affair that I want to discuss with you alone. Let us talk +the matter over quietly. It is as well that you should know that there +are some doubts felt as to the entire truth of the story you told at the +inquest. I do not say this to frighten you,” I added, as the poor girl +clasped her hands and gave me a look of dumb alarm; “but, since it is +so, I want to do all I can to set the matter right. Do you remember +exactly all that took place, to your knowledge, on the night of your +uncle's death?” + +“Yes,” she replied, looking more frightened still. It was evident that +she knew more than she had yet revealed, but I almost forgot my +inquiry, so absorbed was I in watching her lovely face. It was even more +exquisite in its terrified pallor than when the fleeting pink showed in +her cheeks. + +“Then,” I said, “let us go over it. You heard your uncle go out at about +eight o'clock and return about nine?” + +“Yes, I heard the front door open and close both times.” + +“You and Mrs. Pierce being in the music-room, of course. Then, later, +you heard a visitor enter, and again you heard him leave?” + +“Yes--Mr. Porter.” + +“Did you know it was Mr. Porter, at the time he was here?” + +“No; I think not. I didn't think at all who it might be. Uncle Joseph +often had men to call in the evening.” + +“About what time did Mr. Porter leave?” + +“A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert say, `Good-night, sir,' as he +closed the door after him.” + +“And soon after, you and Mrs. Pierce went upstairs?” + +“Yes; only a few minutes after.” + +“And, later, Mrs. Pierce came to your room?” + +“Yes; about half-past ten, I should say; she came to get a book. She +didn't stay two minutes.” + +“And after that, you went down-stairs again to speak to your uncle?” For +the merest instant Miss Lloyd's eyes closed and she swayed as if about +to faint, but she regained her composure at once, and answered with some +asperity, + +“I did not. I have told you that I did not leave my room again that +night.” + +Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and though her full lower lip +quivered it was with anger now, not fear. + +As I watched her, I wondered how I could have thought her more beautiful +when pale. Surely with this glowing color she was at her glorious best. + +“Then when did you drop the two rose petals there?” I went on, calmly +enough, though my own heart was beating fast. + +“I did not drop them. They were left there by some intruder.” + +“But, Miss Lloyd,” and I observed her closely, “the petals were from a +rose such as those Mr. Hall sent you that evening. The florist assures +me there were no more such blossoms in West Sedgwick at that time. The +fallen petals, then, were from one of your own roses, or--” + +“Or?” asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed against the laces at her +throbbing bosom. “Or?” + +“Or,” I went on, “from a rose worn by some one who had come out from New +York on a late train.” + +For the moment I chose to ignore Louis's rose for I wanted to learn +anything Miss Lloyd could tell me. And, too, the yellow petals might +have fallen from a flower in Hall's coat after all. I thought it +possible by suggesting this idea, to surprise from her some hint as to +whether she had any suspicion of him. + +She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, as +if spent with a useless struggle. + +“Wait a moment,” she said, putting out her hand with an imploring +gesture. “Wait a moment. Let me think. I will tell you all, but--wait--” + +With her eyes still closed, she lay back against the satin chair +cushion, and I gazed at her, fascinated. + +I knew it! Then and there the knowledge came to me! Not her guilt, not +her innocence. The crime seemed far away then, but I knew like a flash +not only that I loved this girl, this Florence Lloyd, but that I should +never love any one else. It mattered not that she was betrothed to +another man; the love that had suddenly sprung to life in my heart was +such pure devotion that it asked no return. Guilty or innocent, I loved +her. Guilty or innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire of her +heart were toward another, she should ever know or suspect my adoration +for her. + +I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when her eyes opened I +must discreetly turn my glance aside, but blessing every instant of +opportunity thus given me. + +Her countenance, though troubled and drawn with anxiety, was so pure +and sweet that I felt sure of her innocence. But it should be my work to +prove that to the world. + +Suddenly her eyes flashed open; again her mood had changed. + +“Mr. Burroughs,” she said, and there was almost a challenge in her tone, +“why do you ask me these things? You are a detective, you are here to +find out for yourself, not to ask others to find out. I am innocent of +my uncle's death, of course, but when you cast suspicion on the man +to whom I am betrothed, you cannot expect me to help you confirm that +suspicion. You have made me think by your remark about a man on a late +train that you refer to Mr. Hall. Do you?” + +This was a change of base, indeed. I was being questioned instead of +doing the catechising myself. Very well; if it were my lady's will to +challenge me, I would meet her on her own ground. + +“You took the hint very quickly,” I said. “Had you thought of such a +possibility before?” + +“No, nor do I now. I will not.” Again she was the offended queen. “But +since you have breathed the suggestion, you may not count on any help +from me.” + +“Could you have helped me otherwise?” I said, detaining her as she swept +by. + +To this she made no answer, but again her face wore a troubled +expression, and as she went slowly from the room, she left me with a +strong conviction that she knew far more about Gregory Hall's connection +with the matter than she had told me. + +I sat alone for a few moments wondering what I had better do next. + +I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, and talk things over +with him, but I thought it would be better to see Louis first, and +settle up the matter of his rose more definitely. Accordingly I rang +the bell, and when the parlor maid answered it, I asked her to send both +Louis and Elsa to me in the library. + +I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each other, +and I hoped this fact would aid me in learning the truth from them. + +“Now, Louis,” I began, “you may as well tell me the truth about your +home coming last Tuesday night. In the first place, you must admit that +you were wearing in your coat one of the yellow roses which had been +sent to Miss Lloyd.” + +“No, no, indeed!” declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening glance, as +if forbidding her to contradict him. + +“Nonsense, man,” I said; “don't stand there and tell useless lies. It +will not help you. The best thing you can do for yourself and for all +concerned is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you don't tell it to +me now, you will have to tell it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a +yellow rose and you wore it away that evening when you went to see your +young lady. Now what became of that rose?” + +“I--I lost it, sir.” + +“No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you retired, +you threw it on the floor, in your own room.” + +“No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, but +cannot find him.” + +I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his own +story so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of a simpleton +than a villain. + +“Of course you couldn't find it,” I informed him, “for it was taken from +your room next day; and of course you didn't look for it until after you +had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest.” + +Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered at +Elsa, as he said: “Who take him away? who take my rose from my room.” + +“But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now you're asking who took it +away. Once again, let me advise you to tell the truth. You're not at all +successful in telling falsehoods. Now answer me this: When you came home +Tuesday night, did you or did you not walk around the house past the +office window?” + +“No, sir. I walked around the other side. I--” + +“Stop, Louis! You're not telling the truth. You did walk around by the +office, and you dropped your transfer there. It never blew all around +the house, as you have said it did.” + +A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man's eyes, but he did not look +at me. He shifted his gaze uneasily, as he repeated almost in a singsong +way, “go round the other side of the house.” + +It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness to the fact, I could not +prove that he had gone by the office windows, though I was sure he had. + +But help came from an unexpected quarter. + +Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but now +she spoke up suddenly, and said: “He did go round by the office, Mr. +Burroughs, and I saw him.” + +I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the effect +of her speech on him was quite the reverse. He almost collapsed; he +trembled and turned white, and though he tried to speak, he made no +sound. Surely this man was too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learn +the secret of his knowledge. + +“Tell me about it, Elsa,” I said, quietly. + +“I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; and I +saw Louis come around the house, and he came around by the office side.” + +“You're positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it? Remember, you are +making an important assertion.” + +“I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly as he came around and +entered at the back door.” + +“You hear, Louis?” I said sternly. “I believe Elsa's statement rather +than yours, for she tells a straight story, while you are rattled and +agitated, and have all the appearance of concealing something.” + +Louis looked helpless. He didn't dare deny Elsa's story, but he would +not confirm it. At last he said, with a glance of hatred at the girl, +“Elsa, she tell that story to make the trouble for me.” + +There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, was jealous, and her pride +had been hurt because Louis had taken the rose she gave him, and then +had gone to call on another girl. But I had no reason to doubt Elsa's +statement, and I had every reason to doubt Louis's. I tried to imagine +what Louis's experience had really been, and it suddenly occurred to me, +that though innocent himself of real wrong, he had seen something in the +office, or through the office windows that he wished to keep secret. I +did not for a moment believe that the man had killed his master, so I +concluded he was endeavoring to shield someone else. + +“Louis,” I said, suddenly, “I'll tell you what you did. You went around +by the office, you saw a light there late at night, and you naturally +looked in. You saw Mr. Crawford there, and he was perhaps already +killed. You stepped inside and discovered this, and then you came away, +and said nothing about it, lest you yourself be suspected of the crime. +Incidentally you dropped two petals from the rose Elsa had given you.” + +Louis's answer to this accusation was a perfect storm of denials, +expressed in voluble French and broken English, but all to the effect +that it was not true, and that if he had seen his master dead, he would +have raised an alarm. + +I saw that I had not yet struck the right idea, so I tried again. “Then, +Louis, you must have passed the office before Mr. Crawford was killed, +which is really more probable. Then as you passed the window, you saw +something or someone in the office, and you're not willing to tell about +it. Is this it?” + +This again brought forth only incoherent denial, and I could see that +the man was becoming so rattled, it was difficult for him to speak +clearly, had he desired to do so. + +“Elsa,” I said, suddenly, “you took that rose from Louis's room. What +did you do with it?” + +“I kept,--I mean, I don't know what I did with it,” stammered the girl, +blushing rosy red, and looking shyly at Louis. + +I felt sorry to disclose the poor girl's little romance, for it was +easy enough to see that she was in love with the fickle Frenchman, +who evidently did not reciprocate her interest. He looked at her +disdainfully, and she presented a pathetic picture of embarrassment. + +But the situation was too serious for me to consider Elsa's sentiments, +and I said, rather sternly: “You do know where it is. You preserved that +rose as a souvenir. Go at once and fetch it.” + +It was a chance shot, for I was not at all certain that she had kept +the withered flower, but dominated by my superior will she went away at +once. She returned in a moment with the flower. + +Although withered, it was still in fairly good condition; quite enough +so for me to see at a glance that no petals had been detached from it. +The green calyx leaves clung around the bud in such a manner as to prove +positively that the unfolding flower had lost no petal. This settled the +twelfth rose. Wherever those tell-tale petals had come from, they were +not from Louis's rose. I gave the flower back to Elsa, and I said, “take +your flower, my girl, and go away now. I don't want to question you any +more for the present.” + +A little bewildered at her sudden dismissal, Elsa went away, and I +turned my attention to the Frenchman. + +“Louis,” I began, “this must be settled here and now between us. Either +you must tell me what I want to know, or you must be taken before the +district attorney, and be made to tell him. I have proved to my own +satisfaction that the rose petals in the office were not from the flower +you wore. Therefore I conclude that you did not go into the office that +night, but as you passed the window you did see someone in there with +Mr. Crawford. The hour was later than Mr. Porter's visit, for he had +already gone home, and Lambert had locked the front door and gone to +bed. You came in later, and what you saw, or whom you saw through the +office window so surprised you, or interested you, that you paused to +look in, and there you dropped your transfer.” + +Though Louis didn't speak, I could see at once that I was on the right +track at last. The man was shielding somebody. He was unwilling to tell +what he had seen, lest it inculpate someone. Could it be Gregory Hall? +If Hall had come out on a late train, and Louis had seen him there, he +might, perhaps under Hall's coercion, be keeping the fact secret. Again, +if a strange woman with the gold bag had been in the office, that also +would have attracted Louis's attention. Again, and here my heart almost +stopped beating, could he have seen Florence Lloyd in there? But a +second thought put me at ease again. Surely to have seen Florence in +there would have been so usual and natural a sight that it could not +have caused him anxiety. And yet, again, for him to have seen Florence +in her uncle's office, would have proved to him that the story she +told at the inquest was false. I must get out of him the knowledge he +possessed, if I had to resort to a sort of third degree. But I might +manage it by adroit questioning. + +“I quite understand, Louis, that you are shielding some person. But let +me tell you that it is useless. It is much wiser for you to tell me all +you know, and then I can go to work intelligently to find the man who +murdered Mr. Crawford. You want me to find him, do you not?” + +Louis seemed to have found his voice again. “Yes, sir, of course he must +be found. Of course I want him found,--the miscreant, the villain! but, +Mr. Burroughs, sir, what I have see in the office makes nothing to your +search. I simply see Mr. Crawford alive and well. And I pass by. That +fool girl Elsa, she tell you that I pass by, so I may say so. But I see +nothing in the office to alarm me, and if I drop my transfer there, it +is but because I think of him as no consequence, and I let him go.” + +“Louis,” and I looked him straight in the eye, “all that sounds +straightforward and true. But, if you saw nothing in the office to +surprise or alarm you, why did you at first deny having passed by the +office at all?” + +The man had no answer for this. He was not ingenious in inventing +falsehood, and he stood looking helpless and despairing. I perceived I +should have to go on with my questioning. + +“Was it a man or a woman you saw in there with Mr. Crawford?” + +“I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master.” + +That wouldn't do, then. As long as I asked him direct questions he could +answer falsely. I must trip him up in some roundabout way. + +“Yes,” I said pleasantly, “I understand that. And what was Mr. Crawford +doing?” + +“He sat at his desk;” and Louis spoke slowly, and picked his words with +care. + +“Was he writing?” + +“No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing.” + +I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out before the +man could frame up his lie. I believed I was going to learn something at +last, if I could make the man tell. Surely the testimony of one who saw +Joseph Crawford late that night was of value, and though that testimony +was difficult to obtain, it was well worth the effort. + +“And was Mr. Hall at his desk also?” + +Louis stared at me. “Mr. Hall, he was in New York that night.” This was +said so simply and unpremeditatedly, that I was absolutely certain it +was not Hall whom Louis had seen there. + +“Oh, yes, of course, so he was,” I said lightly; “and Mr. Crawford was +writing, was he?” + +“Yes, sir,” spoken with the dogged scowl which I was beginning to learn +always accompanied Louis's untruthful statements. + +And now I decided to put my worst fear to the test and have it over +with. It must be done, and I felt sure I could do it, but oh, how I +dreaded it! + +“Did Mr. Crawford look up or see you?” + +“No, sir.” + +“And didn't Miss Florence see you, either?” + +“No, sir.” + +It was out. The mere fact that Louis answered that question so calmly +and unconsciously proved he was telling the truth. But what a truth! for +it told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd was in the office with +her uncle, that Louis had seen her, but that she had not seen him. I had +learned the truth from my reading of the man's expression and demeanor, +and though it made my heart sink, I didn't for a moment doubt that it +was the truth. + +Of course Louis realized the next instant what he had done, and again he +began his stammering denials. “Of course, Miss Lloyd do not see me for +she is not there. How can she see me, then? I tell you my master was +alone!” + +Had I been the least uncertain, this would have convinced me that I was +right. For Louis's voice rose almost to a shriek, so angry was he with +himself for having made the slip. + +“Give it up, Louis,” I said; “you have let out the truth, now be quiet. +You couldn't help it, man, you were bound to trip yourself up sooner +or later. You put up a good fight for Miss Florence, and now that I +understand why you told your falsehoods, I can't help admiring your +chivalry. You saw Miss Lloyd there that evening, you heard her next day +at the inquest deny having been in the office in the evening. So, in +a way, it was very commendable on your part to avoid contradicting her +testimonies, with your own. But you are not clever enough, Louis, to +carry out that deceit to the end. And now that you have admitted that +you saw Miss Lloyd there, you can best help her cause, and best help me +to help her cause, by telling me all about it. For rest assured, Louis, +that I am quite as anxious to prove Miss Lloyd's innocence as you can +possibly be, and the only way to accomplish that end, is to learn as +much of the truth as I possibly can. Now, tell me what she was doing.” + +“Only talking to her uncle, sir.” Louis had the air of a defeated man. +He had tried to shield Miss Lloyd's name and had failed. Now he spoke +sullenly, and as if his whole cause were lost. + +“And Mr. Crawford was talking to her?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“He was not writing, then?” + +“No, sir.” + +“Did they seem to be having an amicable conversation?” + +Louis hesitated, and his hesitation was sufficient answer. + +“Never mind,” I said, “you need not tell me more. In fact, I would +prefer to get the rest of the story from Miss Lloyd, herself.” + +Louis looked startled. “Don't tell Miss Lloyd I told you this,” he +begged; “I have try very hard not to tell you.” + +“I know you tried hard, Louis, not to tell me, and it was not your fault +that I wrung the truth from you. I will not tell Miss Lloyd that you +told me, unless it should become necessary, and I do not think it will. +Go away now, Louis, and do not discuss this matter with anybody at all. +And, also, do not think for a moment that you have been disloyal in +telling me that you saw Miss Lloyd. As I say, you couldn't help it. I +should simply have kept at you until I made you tell, so you need not +blame yourself in the matter at all.” + +Louis went away, and though I could see that he believed what I said, +he had a dejected air, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for the man who +had so inadvertently given me the knowledge that must be used against +the beautiful girl who had herself given untrue testimony. + + + + +XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE + + +After Louis left me, I felt as if a dead weight had fallen on my heart. +Florence Lloyd had gone down to her uncle's office late that night, and +yet at the inquest she had testified that she had not done so. And +even to me, when talking quietly and alone, she had repeated her false +assertion. This much I knew, but why she had done it, I did not know. +Not until I was forced to do so, would I believe that even her falsehood +in the matter meant that she herself was guilty. There must be some +other reason for her mendacity. + +Well, I would find out this reason, and if it were not a creditable one +to her, I would still endeavor to do all I could for her. I longed to +see her, and try if perhaps kind and gentle urging might not elicit +the truth. But she had left me with such an air of haughty disdain, I +hesitated to send for her again just now. And as it was nearly dinner +time, I resolved to go back to my hotel. + +On the way, I came to the conclusion that it would do no harm to have a +talk with Parmalee. + +I had not much confidence in his detective ability, but he knew the +people better than I did, and might be able to give me information of +some sort. + +After I reached the Sedgwick Arms I telephoned Parmalee to come over and +dine with me, and he readily consented. + +During dinner I told him all that I had learned from Elsa and Louis. +Of course I had no right to keep this knowledge to myself, and, too, I +wanted Parmalee's opinion on the situation as it stood at present. + +“It doesn't really surprise me,” he said, “for I thought all along, Miss +Lloyd was not telling the truth. I'm not yet ready to say that I think +she killed her uncle, although I must say it seems extremely probable. +But if she didn't commit the deed, she knows perfectly well who did.” + +“Meaning Hall?” + +“No, I don't mean Hall. In fact I don't mean any one in particular. +I think Miss Lloyd was the instigator of the crime, and practically +carried out its commission, but she may have had an assisting agent for +the actual deed.” + +“Oh, how you talk! It quite gives me the shivers even to think of a +beautiful young woman being capable of such thoughts or deeds.” + +“But, you see, Burroughs, that's because you are prejudiced in favor +of Miss Lloyd. Women are capable of crime as well as men, and sometimes +they're even more clever in the perpetration of it. And you must admit +if ever a woman were capable of crime, Miss Lloyd is of that type.” + +“I have to agree to that, Parmalee,” I admitted; “she certainly shows +great strength of character.” + +“She shows more than that; she has indomitable will, unflinching +courage, and lots of pluck. If, for any reason, she made up her mind to +kill a man, she'd find a way to do it.” + +This talk made me cringe all over, but I couldn't deny it, for so far as +I knew Florence Lloyd, Parmalee's words were quite true. + +“All right,” I said, “I'll grant her capability, but that doesn't prove +a thing. I don't believe that girl is guilty, and I hope to prove her +innocence.” + +“But look at the evidence, man! She denied her presence in the room, yet +we now know she was there. She denied the ownership of the gold bag, +yet probably she was also untruthful in that matter. She is a woman of +a complex nature, and though I admire her in many ways, I shouldn't care +to have much to do with her.” + +“Let us leave out the personal note, Parmalee,” I said, for I was angry +at his attitude toward Florence. + +“All right. Don't you think for a moment that I don't see where you +stand with regard to the haughty beauty, but that's neither here nor +there.” + +“Indeed it isn't,” I returned; “and whatever may be my personal feeling +toward Miss Lloyd, I can assure you it in no way influences my work on +this case.” + +“I believe you, old man; and so I'm sure you will agree with me that +we must follow up the inquiry as to Miss Lloyd's presence in the office +that night. She must be made to talk, and perhaps it would be best to +tell Goodrich all about it, and let him push the matter.” + +“Oh, no,” I cried involuntarily. “Don't set him on the track of the poor +girl. That is, Parmalee, let me talk to her again, first. Now that I +know she was down there that night, I think I can question her in +a little different manner, and persuade her to own the truth. And, +Parmalee, perhaps she was down there because Hall was there.” + +“Hall! He was in New York.” + +“So he says, but why should he speak the truth any more than Miss +Lloyd?” + +“You, mean they may both be implicated?” + +“Yes; or he may have used her as a tool.” + +“Not Florence Lloyd. She's nobody's tool.” + +“Any woman might be a tool at the command of the man she loves. But,” I +went on, with an air of conviction which was not entirely genuine, “Miss +Lloyd doesn't love Mr. Hall.” + +“I don't know about that,” returned Parmalee; “you can't tell about +a woman like Florence Lloyd. If she doesn't love him, she's at least +putting up a bluff of doing so.” + +“I believe it is a bluff, though I'm sure I don't know why she should do +that.” + +“On the other hand, why shouldn't she? For some reason she's dead set +on marrying him, ready to give up her fortune to do so, if necessary. He +must have some sort of a pretty strong hold on her.” + +“I admit all that, and yet I can't believe she loves him. He's such a +commonplace man.” + +“Commonplace doesn't quite describe him. And yet Gregory Hall, with all +the money in the world, could never make himself distinguished or worth +while in any way.” + +“No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see in a man like that, to make +her so determined to marry him?” + +“I don't think she is determined, except that Hall has some sort of hold +over her,--a promise or something,--that she can't escape.” + +My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with Hall, +but I did not allow myself to dwell on that point, for I was determined +to go on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward her. + +“You see,” Parmalee went on, “you suspect Hall, only because you're +prejudiced against him.” + +“Good gracious!” I exclaimed; “that's an awful thing to say, Parmalee. +The idea of a detective suspecting a man, merely because he doesn't +admire his personality! And besides, it isn't true. If I suspect Hall, +it's because I think he had a strong motive, a possible opportunity, and +more than all, because he refuses to tell where he was Tuesday night.” + +“But that's just the point, Burroughs. A man who'll commit murder would +fix up his alibi first of all. He would know that his refusal to tell +his whereabouts would be extremely suspicious. No, to my mind it's +Hall's refusal to tell that stamps him as innocent.” + +“Then, in that case, it's the cleverest kind of an alibi he could +invent, for it stamps him innocent at once.” + +“Oh, come, now, that's going pretty far; but I will say, Burroughs, +that you haven't the least shred of proof against Hall, and you know +it. Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and even a strong desire that +he should be the villain, are all very well. But they won't go far as +evidence in a court of law.” + +I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, and that so far I had no +proof whatever that Gregory Hall was at all implicated in Mr. Crawford's +death. To be sure he might have worn a yellow rose, and he might have +brought the late newspaper, but there was no evidence to connect +him with those clues, and too, there was the gold bag. It was highly +improbable that that should have been brought to the office and left +there by a man. + +However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not to carry the matter to Mr. +Goodrich until I had had one more interview with Miss Lloyd, and I +promised to undertake that the next morning. + +After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some very gloomy reflections. +Everything seemed to point one way. Every proof, every suspicion and +every hint more or less implicated Miss Lloyd. + +But the more I realized this, the more I determined to do all I could +for her, and as to do this, I must gain her confidence, and even +liking, I resolved to approach the subject the next day with the utmost +tactfulness and kindliness, hoping by this means to induce the truth +from her. + +The next morning I started on my mission with renewed hopefulness. +Reaching the Crawford house, I asked for Miss Lloyd, and I was shown +into a small parlor to wait for her. It was a sort of morning room, a +pretty little apartment that I had not been in before; and it was so +much more cheerful and pleasant than the stately library, I couldn't +help hoping that Miss Lloyd, too, would prove more amenable than she had +yet been. + +She soon came in, and though I was beginning to get accustomed to the +fact that she was a creature of variable moods, I was unprepared for +this one. Her hauteur had disappeared; she was apparently in a sweet +and gentle frame of mind. Her large dark eyes were soft and gentle, and +though her red lips quivered, it was not with anger or disdain as they +had done the day before. She wore a plain white morning gown, and a long +black necklace of small beads. The simplicity of this costume suited her +well, and threw into relief her own rich coloring and striking beauty. + +She greeted me more pleasantly than she had ever done before, and I +couldn't help feeling that the cheerful sunny little room had a better +effect on her moods than the darker furnishings of the library. + +“I wish,” I began, “that we had not to talk of anything unpleasant this +morning. I wish there were no such thing as untruth or crime in the +world, and that I were calling on you, as an acquaintance, as a friend +might call.” + +“I wish so, too,” she responded, and as she flashed a glance at me, I +had a glimpse of what it might mean to be friends with Florence +Lloyd without the ugly shadow between us that now was spoiling our +tete-a-tete. + +Just that fleeting glance held in it the promise of all that was +attractive, charming and delightful in femininity. It was as if the veil +of the great, gloomy sorrow had been lifted for a moment, and she was +again an untroubled, merry girl. It seemed too, as if she wished that we +could be together under pleasanter circumstances and could converse +on subjects of less dreadful import. However, all these thoughts that +tumultuously raced through my mind must be thrust aside in favor of the +business in hand. + +So though I hated to, I began at once. + +“I am sorry, Miss Lloyd, to doubt your word, but I want to tell you +myself rather than to have you learn it from others that I have a +witness who has testified to your presence in your uncle's office that +fateful Tuesday night, although you have said you didn't go down there.” + +As I had feared, the girl turned white and shivered as if with a +dreadful apprehension. + +“Who is the witness?” she said. + +I seemed to read her mind, and I felt at once that to her, the +importance of what I had said depended largely on my answer to this +question, and I paused a moment to think what this could mean. And then +it flashed across me that she was afraid I would say the witness was +Gregory Hall. I became more and more convinced that she was shielding +Hall, and I felt sure that when she learned it was not he, she would +feel relieved. However, I had promised Louis not to let her know that he +had told me of seeing her, unless it should be necessary. + +“I think I won't tell you that; but since you were seen in the office at +about eleven o'clock, will you not tell me,--I assure you it is for your +own best interests,--what you were doing there, and why you denied being +there?” + +“First tell me the name of your informer;” and so great was her +agitation that she scarcely breathed the words. + +“I prefer not to do so, but I may say it is a reliable witness and one +who gave his evidence most unwillingly.” + +“Well, if you will not tell me who he was, will you answer just one +question about him? Was it Mr. Hall?” + +“No; it was not Mr. Hall.” + +As I had anticipated, she showed distinctly her relief at my answer. +Evidently she dreaded to hear Hall's name brought into the conversation. + +“And now, Miss Lloyd, I ask you earnestly and with the best intent, +please to tell me the details of your visit to Mr. Crawford that night +in his office.” + +She sat silent for a moment, her eyes cast down, the long dark lashes +lying on her pale cheeks. I waited patiently, for I knew she was +struggling with a strong emotion of some sort, and I feared if I hurried +her, her gentle mood would disappear, and she might again become angry +or haughty of demeanor. + +At last she spoke. The dark lashes slowly raised, and she seemed even +more gentle than at first. + +“I must tell you,” she said. “I see I must. But don't repeat it, unless +it is necessary. Detectives have to know things, but they don't have to +tell them, do they?” + +“We never repeat confidences, Miss Lloyd,” I replied, “except when +necessary to further the cause of right and justice.” + +“Truly? Is that so?” + +She brightened up so much that I began to hope she had only some +trifling matter to tell of. + +“Well, then,” she went on, “I will tell you, for I know it need not +be repeated in the furtherance of justice. I did go down to my uncle's +office that night, after Mrs. Pierce had been to my room; and it was +I--it must have been I--who dropped those rose petals.” + +“And left the bag,” I suggested. + +“No,” she said, and her face looked perplexed, but not confused. “No, +the bag is not mine, and I did not leave it there. I know nothing of it, +absolutely nothing. But I did go to the office at about eleven +o'clock. I had a talk with my uncle, and I left him there a half-hour +later--alive and well as when I went in.” + +“Was your conversation about your engagement?” + +“Yes.” + +“Was it amicable?” + +“No, it was not! Uncle Joseph was more angry than I had ever before seen +him. He declared he intended to make a new will the next morning, which +would provide only a small income for me. He said this was not revenge +or punishment for my loyalty to Mr. Hall, but--but--” + +“But what?” I urged gently. + +“It scarcely seems loyal to Mr. Hall for me to say it,” she returned, +and the tears were in her eyes. “But this is all confidential. Well, +Uncle Joseph said that Gregory only wanted to marry me for my fortune, +and that the new will would prove this. Of course I denied that Mr. Hall +was so mercenary, and then we had a good deal of an altercation. But +it was not very different from many discussions we had had on the same +subject, only Uncle was more decided, and said he had asked Mr. Randolph +to come the next morning and draw up the new will. I left him still +angry--he wouldn't even say good-night to me--and now I blame myself for +not being more gentle, and trying harder to make peace. But it annoyed +me to have him call Gregory mercenary--” + +“Because you knew it was true,” I said quietly. + +She turned white to the very lips. “You are unnecessarily impertinent,” + she said. + +“I am,” I agreed. “I beg your pardon.” But I had discovered that she did +realize her lover's true nature. + +“And then you went to your room, and stayed there?” I went on, with a +meaning emphasis on the last clause. + +“Yes,” she said; “and so, you see, what I have told you casts no light +on the mystery. I only told you so as to explain the bits of the yellow +rose. I feared, from what you said, that Mr. Hall's name might possibly +be brought into discussion.” + +“Why, he was not in West Sedgwick that night,” I said. + +“Where was he?” she countered quickly. + +“I don't know. He refuses to tell. Of course you must see that his +absolute refusal to tell where he was that night is, to say the least, +an unwise proceeding.” + +“He won't even tell me where he was,” she said, sighing. “But it doesn't +matter. He wasn't here.” + +“That's just it,” I rejoined. “If he was not here, it would be far +better for him to tell where he really was. For the refusal to tell +raises a question that will not be downed, except by an alibi. I don't +want to be cruel, Miss Lloyd, but I must make you see that as the +inquiry proceeds, the actions of both Mr. Hall and yourself will be +subjected to very close scrutiny, and though perhaps undue attention +will be paid to trifles, yet the trifles must be explained.” + +I was so sorry for the girl, that, in my effort not to divulge my too +great sympathy, I probably used a sterner tone than I realized. + +At any rate, I had wakened her at last to a sense of the danger that +threatened her and her lover, and now, if she would let me, I would do +all in my power to save them both. But I must know all she could tell +me. + +“When did Mr. Hall leave you?” I asked. + +“You mean the day--last Tuesday?” + +“Yes?” + +“He left here about half-past five. He had been in the office with Uncle +Joseph all the afternoon, and at five o'clock he came in here for a +cup of tea with me. He almost always comes in at tea-time. Then he left +about half-past five, saying he was going to New York on the six o'clock +train.” + +“For what purpose?” + +“I never ask him questions like that. I knew he was to attend to some +business for Uncle the next day, but I never ask him what he does +evenings when he is in the city, or at any time when he is not with me.” + +“But surely one might ask such questions of the man to whom she is +betrothed.” + +Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of hauteur which always +effectually stopped my “impertinence.” + +“It is not my habit,” she said. “What Gregory wishes me to know he tells +me of his own accord.” + + + + +XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS + + +I began on a new tack. + +“Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, and say you did not come +down-stairs again, after going up at ten o'clock?” + +Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, appealing look came into her +eyes, and she looked to me like a lovely child afraid of unseen dangers. + +“I was afraid,” she confessed. “Yes, truly, I was afraid that they would +think I had something to do with the--with Uncle Joseph's death. And as +I didn't think it could do any good to tell of my little visit to him, +I just said I didn't come down. Oh, I know it was a lie--I know it was +wicked--but I was so frightened, and it was such an easy way out of it, +just to deny it.” + +“And why have you confessed it to me now?” + +Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. + +“I told you why,” she said: “so you would know where the rose leaves +came from, and not suspect Gregory.” + +“Do you suspect him?” + +“N-no, of course not. But others might.” + +It is impossible to describe the dismay that smote my heart at the +hesitation of this answer. It was more than hesitation. It was a +conflict of unspoken impulses, and the words, when they were uttered, +seemed to carry hidden meanings, and to my mind they carried the worst +and most sinister meaning conceivable. + +To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to collusion between Florence +Lloyd, whom I already loved, and Gregory Hall, whom I already distrusted +and disliked. Guilty collusion between these two would explain +everything. Theirs the motive, theirs the opportunity, theirs +the denials and false witnessing. The gold bag, as yet, remained +unexplained, but the yellow rose petals and the late newspaper could be +accounted for if Hall had come out on the midnight train, and Florence +had helped him to enter and leave the house unseen. + +Bah! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold bag remained as proof +against this horrid theory. I would pin my faith to the gold bag, and +through its presence in the room, I would defy suspicions of the two +people I had resolved to protect. + +“What do you think about the gold bag?” I asked. + +“I don't know what to think. I hate to accuse Uncle Joseph of such a +thing, but it seems as if some woman friend of his must have come to the +office after I left. The long French windows were open--it was a warm +night, you know--and any one could have come and gone unseen.” + +“The bag wasn't there when you were there?” + +“I'm sure it was not! That is, not in sight, and Uncle Joseph was not +the sort of man to have such a thing put away in his desk as a souvenir, +or for any other reason.” + +“Forgive the insinuation, but of course you could not know positively +that Mr. Crawford would not have a feminine souvenir in his desk.” + +She looked up surprised. “Of course I could not be positive,” she said, +“but it is difficult to imagine anything sentimental connected with +Uncle Joseph.” + +She almost smiled as she said this, for apparently the mere idea was +amusing, and I had a flashing glimpse of what it must be to see Florence +Lloyd smile! Well it should not be my fault, or due to my lack of +exertion, if the day did not come when she should smile again, and +I promised myself I should be there to see it. But stifling these +thoughts, I brought my mind back to duty. Drawing from my pocket the +photograph I had found in Mr. Crawford's desk, I showed it to her. + +“In Uncle's desk!” she exclaimed. “This does surprise me. I had no idea +Uncle Joseph had received a photograph from a lady with an affectionate +message, too. Are you quite sure it belonged to him?” + +“I only know that we found it in his desk, hidden beneath some old +letters and papers.” + +“Were the letters from this lady?” + +“No; in no case could we find a signature that agreed with these +initials.” + +“Here's your chance, Mr. Burroughs,” and again Florence Lloyd's dimples +nearly escaped the bondage which held them during these sad days. “If +you're a detective, you ought to gather at once from this photograph and +signature all the details about this lady; who she is, and what she had +to do with Uncle Joseph.” + +“I wish I could do so,” I replied, “but you see, I'm not that kind of +detective. I have a friend, Mr. Stone, who could do it, and would tell +you, as you say, everything about that lady, merely by looking at her +picture.” + +As a case in point, I told her then and there the story of Fleming +Stone's wonderful deductions from the pair of muddy shoes we had seen in +a hotel one morning. + +“But you never proved that it was true?” she asked, her dark eyes +sparkling with interest, and her face alight with animation. + +“No, but it wasn't necessary. Stone's deductions are always right, and +if not, you know it is the exception that proves the rule.” + +“Well, let us try to deduce a little from this picture. I don't believe +for a moment, that Uncle Joseph had a romantic attachment for any lady, +though these words on the back of the picture do seem to indicate it.” + +“Well, go on,” said I, so carried away by the fascination of the girl, +when she had for a moment seemed to forget her troubles, that I wanted +to prolong the moment. “Go ahead, and see what inferences you can draw +from the photograph.” + +“I think she is about fifty years old,” Florence began, “or perhaps +fifty-five. What do you think?” + +“I wouldn't presume to guess a lady's age,” I returned, “and beside, +I want you to try your powers on this. You may be better at deductions +than I am. I have already confessed to you my inability in that +direction.” + +“Well,” she went on, “I think this lady is rather good-looking, and I +think she appreciates the fact.” + +“The first is evident on the face of it, and the second is a universal +truth, so you haven't really deduced much as yet.” + +“No, that's so,” and she pouted a little. “But at any rate, I can deduce +more about her dress than you can. The picture was taken, or at least +that costume was made, about a year ago, for that is the style that was +worn then.” + +“Marvellous, Holmes, marvellous!” + +She flashed me a glance of understanding and appreciation, but +undaunted, went on: “The gown also was not made by a competent modiste, +but was made by a dressmaker in the house, who came in by the day. The +lady is of an economical turn of mind, because the lace yoke of the gown +is an old one, and has even been darned to make it presentable to use in +the new gown.” + +“Now that is deduction,” I said admiringly; “the only trouble is, +that it doesn't do us much good. Somehow I can't seem to fancy this +good-looking, economical, middle-aged lady, who has her dressmaking +done at home, coming here in the middle of the night and killing Mr. +Crawford.” + +“No, I can't, either,” said Florence gravely; “but then, I can't imagine +any one else doing that, either. It seems like a horrible dream, and I +can't realize that it really happened to Uncle Joseph.” + +“But it did happen, and we must find the guilty person. I think with +you, that this photograph is of little value as a clue, and yet it may +turn out to be. And yet I do think the gold bag is a clue. You are quite +sure it isn't yours?” + +Perhaps it was a mean way to put the question, but the look of +indignation she gave me helped to convince me that the bag was not hers. + +“I told you it was not,” she said, “but,” and her eyes fell, “since +I have confessed to one falsehood, of course you cannot believe my +statement.” + +“But I do believe it,” I said, and I did, thoroughly. + +“At any rate, it is a sort of proof,” she said, smiling sadly, “that any +one who knows anything about women's fashions can tell you that it is +not customary to carry a bag of that sort when one is in the house and +in evening dress. Or rather, in a negligee costume, for I had taken +off my evening gown and wore a tea-gown. I should not think of going +anywhere in a tea-gown, and carrying a gold bag.” + +The girl had seemingly grown almost lighthearted. Her speech was +punctuated by little smiles, and her half sad, half gay demeanor +bewitched me. I felt sure that what little suggestion of +lightheartedness had come into her mood had come because she had at last +confessed the falsehood she had told, and her freed conscience gave her +a little buoyancy of heart. + +But there were still important questions to be asked, so, though +unwillingly, I returned to the old subject. + +“Did you see your uncle's will while you were there?” + +“No; he talked about it, but did not show it to me.” + +“Did he talk about it as if it were still in his possession?” + +“Why, yes; I think so. That is, he said he would make a new one unless +I gave up Gregory. That implied that the old one was still in existence, +though he didn't exactly say so.” + +“Miss Lloyd, this is important evidence. I must tell you that I shall be +obliged to repeat much of it to the district attorney. It seems to me to +prove that your uncle did not himself destroy the will.” + +“He might have done so after I left him.” + +“I can't think it, for it is not in scraps in the waste-basket, nor are +there any paper-ashes in the grate.” + +“Well, then,” she rejoined, “if he didn't destroy it, it may yet be +found.” + +“You wish that very much?” I said, almost involuntarily. + +“Oh, I do!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. “Not so much for myself +as--” + +She paused, and I finished the sentence for her “For Mr. Hall.” + +She looked angry again, but said nothing. + +“Well, Miss Lloyd,” I said, as I rose to go, “I am going to do +everything in my power in your behalf and in behalf of Mr. Hall. But I +tell you frankly, unless you will both tell me the truth, and the whole +truth, you will only defeat my efforts, and work your own undoing.” + +I had to look away from her as I said this, for I could not look on that +sweet face and say anything even seemingly harsh or dictatorial. + +Her lip quivered. “I will do my best,” she said tremblingly. “I will +try to make Mr. Hall tell where he was that night. I will see you again +after I have talked with him.” + +More collusion! I said good-by rather curtly, I fear, and went quickly +away from that perilous presence. + +Truly, a nice detective, I! Bowled over by a fair face, I was unable to +think clearly, to judge logically, or to work honestly! + +Well, I would go home and think it out by myself. Away from her +influence I surely would regain my cool-headed methods of thought. + +When I reached the inn, I found Mr. Lemuel Porter there waiting for me. + +“How do you do, Mr. Burroughs?” he said pleasantly. “Have you time for a +half-hour's chat?” + +It was just what I wanted. A talk with this clear-thinking man would +help me, indeed, and I determined to get his opinions, even as I was +ready to give him mine. + +“Well, what do you think about it all?” I inquired, after we were +comfortably settled at a small table on the shaded veranda, which was +a popular gathering-place at this hour. But in our corner we were in no +danger from listening ears, and I awaited his reply with interest. + +His eyes smiled a little, as he said, + +“You know the old story of the man who said he wouldn't hire a dog and +then do his own barking. Well, though I haven't 'hired' you, I would +be quite ready to pay your honorarium if you can ferret out our West +Sedgwick mystery. And so, as you are the detective in charge of the +case, I ask you, what do you think about it all?” + +But I was pretty thoroughly on my guard now. + +“I think,” I began, “that much hinges on the ownership of that gold +bag.” + +“And you do not think it is Miss Lloyd's?” + +“I do not.” + +“It need not incriminate her, if it were hers,” said Mr. Porter, +meditatively knocking the ash from said his cigar. “She might have left +it in the office at any time previous to the day of the crime. Women +are always leaving such things about. I confess it does not seem to me +important.” + +“Was it on Mr. Crawford's desk when you were there?” I asked suddenly. + +He looked up at me quickly, and again that half-smile came into his +eyes. + +“Am I to be questioned?” he said. “Well, I've no objections, I'm sure. +No, I do not think it was there when I called on Mr. Crawford that +evening. But I couldn't swear to this, for I am not an observant man, +and the thing might have lain there in front of me and never caught +my eye. If I had noticed it, of course I should have thought it was +Florence's.” + +“But you don't think so now, do you?” + +“No; I can't say I think so. And yet I can imagine a girl untruthfully +denying ownership under such circumstances.” + +I started at this. For hadn't Miss Lloyd untruthfully denied coming +down-stairs to talk to her uncle? + +“But,” went on Mr. Porter, “if the bag is not Florence's, then I can +think of but one explanation for its presence there.” + +“A lady visitor, late at night,” I said slowly. + +“Yes,” was the grave reply; “and though such an occurrence might have +been an innocent one, yet, taken in connection with the crime, there is +a dreadful possibility.” + +“Granting this,” I suggested, “we ought to be able to trace the owner of +the bag.” + +“Not likely. If the owner of that bag--a woman, presumably--is +the slayer of Joseph Crawford, and made her escape from the scene +undiscovered, she is not likely to stay around where she may be found. +And the bag itself, and its contents, are hopelessly unindividual.” + +“They are that,” I agreed. “Not a thing in it that mightn't be in any +woman's bag in this country. To me, that cleaner's advertisement means +nothing in connection with Miss Lloyd.” + +“I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Burroughs. I confess I have had a +half-fear that your suspicions had a trend in Florence's direction, +and I assure you, sir, that girl is incapable of the slightest impulse +toward crime.” + +“I'm sure of that,” I said heartily, my blood bounding in my veins at +an opportunity to speak in defense of the woman I loved. “But how if her +impulses were directed, or even coerced, by another?” + +“Just what do you mean by that?” + +“Oh, nothing. But sometimes the best and sweetest women will act against +their own good impulses for those they love.” + +“I cannot pretend to misunderstand you,” said Mr. Porter. “But you are +wrong. If the one you have in mind--I will say no name--was in any +way guiltily implicated, it was without the knowledge or connivance of +Florence Lloyd. But, man, the idea is absurd. The individual in question +has a perfect alibi.” + +“He refuses to give it.” + +“Refuses the details, perhaps. And he has a right to, since they concern +no one but himself. No, my friend, you know the French rule; well, +follow that, and search for the lady with the gold-mesh bag.” + +“The lady without it, at present,” I said, with an apologetic smile for +my rather grim jest. + +“Yes; and that's the difficulty. As she hasn't the bag, we can't +discover her. So as a clue it is worthless.” + +“It seems to be,” I agreed. + +I thought best not to tell Mr. Porter of the card I had found in the +bag, for I hoped soon to hear from headquarters concerning the lady +whose name it bore. But I told him about the photograph I had found in +Mr. Crawford's desk, and showed it to him. He did not recognize it as +being a portrait of any one he had ever seen. Nor did he take it very +seriously as a clue. + +“I'm quite sure,” he said, “that Joseph Crawford has not been interested +in any woman since the death of his wife. He has always seemed devoted +to her memory, and as one of his nearest friends, I think I would have +known if he had formed any other attachment. Of course, in a matter +like this, a man may well have a secret from his nearest friends, but +I cannot think this mild and gentle-looking lady is at all concerned in +the tragedy.” + +As a matter of fact, I agreed with Mr. Porter, for nothing I had +discovered among the late Mr. Crawford's effects led me to think he had +any secret romance. + +After Mr. Porter's departure I studied long over my puzzles, and I came +to the conclusion that I could do little more until I should hear from +headquarters. + + + + +XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED + + +That evening I went to see Philip Crawford. As one of the executors of +his late brother's estate, and as probable heir to the same, he was an +important personage just now. + +He seemed glad to see me, and glad to discuss ways and means of running +down the assassin. Like Mr. Porter, he attached little importance to the +gold bag. + +“I can't help thinking it belongs to Florence,” he said. “I know the +girl so well, and I know that her horrified fear of being in any way +connected with the tragedy might easily lead her to, disown her own +property, thinking the occasion justified the untruth. That girl has +no more guilty knowledge of Joseph's death than I have, and that is +absolutely none. I tell you frankly, Mr. Burroughs, I haven't even a +glimmer of a suspicion of any one. I can't think of an enemy my brother +had; he was the most easy-going of men. I never knew him to quarrel with +anybody. So I trust that you, with your detective talent, can at least +find a clue to lead us in the right direction.” + +“You don't admit the gold bag as a clue, then?” I asked. + +“Nonsense! No! If that were a clue, it would point to some woman who +came secretly at night to visit Joseph. My brother was not that sort +of man, sir. He had no feminine acquaintances that were unknown to his +relatives.” + +“That is, you suppose so.” + +“I know it! We have been brothers for sixty years or more, and whatever +Joseph's faults, they did not lie in that direction. No, sir; if that +bag is not Florence's, then there is some other rational and commonplace +explanation of its presence there.” + +“I'm glad to hear you speak so positively, Mr. Crawford, as to your +brother's feminine acquaintances. And in connection with the subject, I +would like to show you this photograph which I found in his desk.” + +I handed the card to Mr. Crawford, whose features broke into a smile as +he looked at it. + +“Oh, that,” he said; “that is a picture, of Mrs. Patton.” He looked at +the picture with a glance that seemed to be of admiring reminiscence, +and he studied the gentle face of the photograph a moment without +speaking. + +Then he said, “She was beautiful as a girl. She used to be a school +friend of both Joseph and myself.” + +“She wrote rather an affectionate message on the back,” I observed. + +Mr. Crawford turned the picture over. + +“Oh, she didn't send this picture to Joseph. She sent it to my wife last +Christmas. I took it over to show it to Joseph some months ago, and left +it there without thinking much about it. He probably laid it in his desk +without thinking much about it, either. No, no, Burroughs, there is +no romance there, and you can't connect Mrs. Patton with any of your +detective investigations.” + +“I rather thought that, Mr. Crawford; for this is evidently a sweet, +simple-minded lady, and more over nothing has turned up to indicate that +Mr. Crawford had a romantic interest of any kind.” + +“No, he didn't. I knew Joseph as I know myself. No; whoever killed my +brother, was a man; some villain who had a motive that I know nothing +about.” + +“But you were intimately acquainted with your brother's affairs?” + +“Yes, that is what proves to me that whoever this assassin was, it was +some one of whose motive I know nothing. The fact that my brother was +murdered, proves to me that my brother had an enemy, but I had never +suspected it before.” + +“Do you know a Mrs. Egerton Purvis?” + +I flung the question at him, suddenly, hoping to catch him unawares. But +he only looked at me with the blank expression of one who hears a name +for the first time. + +“No,” he answered, “I never heard of her. Who is she?” + +“Well, when I was hunting through that gold-mesh bag, I discovered a +lady's visiting card with that name on it. It had slipped between the +linings, and so had not been noticed before.” + +To my surprise, this piece of information seemed to annoy Mr. Crawford +greatly. + +“No!” he exclaimed. “In the bag? Then some one has put it there! for I +looked over all the bag's contents myself.” + +“It was between the pocket and the lining,” said I; “it is there still, +for as I felt sure no one else would discover it, I left it there. Mr. +Goodrich has the bag.” + +“Oh, I don't want to see it,” he exclaimed angrily. “And I tell you +anyway, Mr. Burroughs, that bag is worthless as a clue. Take my advice, +and pay no further attention to it.” + +I couldn't understand Mr. Crawford's decided attitude against the bag as +a clue, but I dropped the subject, for I didn't wish to tell him I had +made plans to trace up that visiting card. + +“It is difficult to find anything that is a real clue,” I said. + +“Yes, indeed. The whole affair is mysterious, and, for my part, I +cannot form even a conjecture as to who the villain might have been. He +certainly left no trace.” + +“Where is the revolver?” I said, picturing the scene in imagination. + +Philip Crawford started as if caught unawares. + +“How do I know?” he cried, almost angrily. “I tell you, I have no +suspicions. I wish I had! I desire, above all things, to bring my +brother's murderer to justice. But I don't know where to look. If the +weapon were not missing, I should think it a suicide.” + +“The doctor declares it could not have been suicide, even if the weapon +had been found near him. This they learned from the position of his arms +and head.” + +“Yes, yes; I know it. It was, without doubt, murder. But who--who would +have a motive?” + +“They say,” I observed, “motives for murder are usually love, revenge, +or money.” + +“There is no question of love or revenge in this instance. And as for +money, as I am the one who has profited financially, suspicion should +rest on me.” + +“Absurd!” I said. + +“Yes, it is absurd,” he went on, “for had I desired Joseph's fortune, +I need not have killed him to acquire it. He told me the day before +he died that he intended to disinherit Florence, and make me his heir, +unless she broke with that secretary of his. I tried to dissuade him +from this step, for we are not a mercenary lot, we Crawfords, and I +thought I had made him reconsider his decision. Now, as it turns out, he +persisted in his resolve, and was only prevented from carrying it out by +this midnight assassin. We must find that villain, Mr. Burroughs! Do not +consider expense; do anything you can to track him down.” + +“Then, Mr. Crawford,” said I, “if you do not mind the outlay, I advise +that we send for Fleming Stone. He is a detective of extraordinary +powers, and I am quite willing to surrender the case to him.” + +Philip Crawford eyed me keenly. + +“You give up easily, young man,” he said banteringly. + +“I know it seems so,” I replied, “but I have my reasons. One is, that +Fleming Stone makes important deductions from seemingly unimportant +clues; and he holds that unless these clues are followed immediately, +they are lost sight of and great opportunities are gone.” + +“H'm,” mused Philip Crawford, stroking his strong, square chin. “I don't +care much for these spectacular detectives. Your man, I suppose, would +glance at the gold bag, and at once announce the age, sex, and previous +condition of servitude of its owner.” + +“Just what I have thought, Mr. Crawford. I'm sure he could do just +that.” + +“And that's all the good it would do! That bag doesn't belong to the +criminal.” + +“How do you know?” + +“By common-sense. No woman came to the house in the dead of night and +shot my brother, and then departed, taking her revolver with her. And +again, granting a woman did have nerve and strength enough to do +that, such a woman is not going off leaving her gold bag behind her as +evidence!” + +This speech didn't affect me much. It was pure conjecture. Women are +uncertain creatures, at best; and a woman capable of murder would be +equally capable of losing her head afterward, and leaving circumstantial +evidence behind her. + +I was sorry Mr. Crawford didn't seem to take to the notion of sending +for Stone. I wasn't weakening in the case so far as my confidence in my +own ability was concerned; but I could see no direction to look except +toward Florence Lloyd or Gregory Hall, or both. And so I was ready to +give up. + +“What do you think of Gregory Hall?” I said suddenly. + +“As a man or as a suspect?” inquired Mr. Crawford. + +“Both.” + +“Well, as a man, I think he's about the average, ordinary young +American, of the secretary type. He has little real ambition, but he has +had a good berth with Joseph, and he has worked fairly hard to keep it. +As a suspect, the notion is absurd. He wasn't even in West Sedgwick.” + +“How do you know?” + +“Because he went away at six that evening, and was in New York until +nearly noon the next day.” + +“How do you know?” + +Philip Crawford stared at me. + +“He says so,” I went on; “but no one can prove his statement. He refuses +to say where he was in New York, or what he did. Now, merely as a +supposition, why couldn't he have come out here--say on the midnight +train--called on Mr. Joseph Crawford, and returned to New York before +daylight?” + +“Absurd! Why, he had no motive for killing Joseph.” + +“He had the same motive Florence would have. He knew of Mr. Crawford's +objection to their union, and he knew of his threat to change his will. +Mr. Hall is not blind to the advantages of a fortune.” + +“Right you are, there! In fact, I always felt he was marrying Florence +for her money. I had no real reason to think this, but somehow he gave +me that impression.” + +“Me, too. Moreover, I found a late extra of a New York paper in Mr. +Crawford's office. This wasn't on sale until about half past eleven that +night, so whoever left it there must have come out from the city on that +midnight train, or later.” + +A change came over Philip Crawford's face. Apparently he was brought to +see the whole matter in a new light. + +“What? What's that?” he cried excitedly, grasping his chair-arms and +half rising. “A late newspaper! An extra!” + +“Yes; the liner accident, you know.” + +“But--but--Gregory Hall! Why man, you're crazy! Hall is a good fellow. +Not remarkably clever, perhaps, and a fortune-hunter, maybe, but +not--surely not a murderer!” + +“Don't take it so hard, Mr. Crawford,” I broke in. “Probably. Mr. Hall +is innocent. But the late paper must have been left there by some one, +after, say, one o'clock.” + +“This is awful! This is terrible!” groaned the poor man, and I couldn't +help wondering if he had some other evidence against Hall that this +seemed to corroborate. + +Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and began to talk in more +normal tones. + +“Now, don't let this new idea run away with you, Mr. Burroughs,” he +said. “If Hall had an interview with my brother that night, he would +have learned from him that he intended to make a new will, but hadn't +yet done so.” + +“Exactly; and that would constitute a motive for putting Mr. Crawford +out of the way before he could accomplish his purpose.” + +“But Joseph had already destroyed the will that favored Florence.” + +“We don't know that,” I responded gravely. “And, anyway, if he had done +so, Mr. Hall didn't know it. This leaves his motive unchanged.” + +“But the gold bag,” said Mr. Crawford, apparently to get away--from the +subject of Gregory Hall. + +“If, as you say,” I began, “that is Florence's bag--” + +I couldn't go on. A strange sense of duty had forced those words from +me, but I could say no more. + +Fleming Stone might take the case if they wanted him to; or they +might get some one else. But I could not go on, when the only clues +discoverable pointed in a way I dared not look. + +Philip Crawford was ghastly now. His face was working and he breathed +quickly. + +“Nonsense, Dad!” cried a strong, young voice, and his son, Philip, Jr., +bounded into the room and grasped his father's hands. “I overheard a +few of your last words, and you two are on the wrong track. Florrie's no +more mixed up in that horrible business than I am. Neither is Hall. +He's a fool chap, but no villain. I heard what you said about the late +newspaper, but lots of people come out on that midnight train. You may +as well suspect some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, as +to pick out poor Hall, without a scrap of evidence to point to him.” + +I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the boy, and +I plucked up new courage. Apprehension had made me faint-hearted, but +if he could show such flawless confidence in Florence and her betrothed, +surely I could do as much. + +“Good for you, young man!” I cried, shaking his hand. “You've cheered me +up a lot. I'll take a fresh start, and surely we'll find out something. +But I'd like to send for Stone.” + +“Wait a bit, wait a bit,” said Mr. Crawford. “Phil's right; there's no +possibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter. Leave the gold bag, the +newspapers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, and go to work +in some sensible way.” + +“How about Mr. Joseph's finances?” I asked. “Are they in satisfactory +shape?” + +“Never finer,” said Philip Crawford. “Joseph was a very rich man, +and all due to his own clever and careful investments. A bit of a +speculator, but always on the right side of the market. Why, he fairly +had a corner in X.Y. stock. Just that deal--and it will go through in a +few days--means a fortune in itself. I shall settle that on Florence.” + +“Then you think the will will never be found?” I said. + +Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well he might, but he only said, + +“If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie reinstated in +her own right. If no will turns up, Joe's estate is legally mine, but I +shall see that Florence is amply provided for.” + +He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had caught him +up so sharply. + +I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over it all +for a time, I turned in, but to a miserably broken night's rest. + + + + +XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS + + +The next morning I received information from headquarters. It was a +long-code telegram, and I eagerly deciphered it, to learn that Mrs. +Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a few months in +New York City. She was staying at the Albion Hotel, and seemed to be in +every way above suspicion of any sort. + +Of course I started off at once to see Mrs. Purvis. + +Parmalee came just as I was leaving the inn, and was of course anxious +and inquisitive to know where I was going, and what I was going to do. + +At first I thought I would take him into my confidence, and I even +thought of taking him with me. But I felt sure I could do better work +alone. It might be that Mrs. Egerton Purvis should turn out to be an +important factor in the case, and I suppose it was really an instinct of +vanity that made me prefer to look her up without Parmalee by my side. + +So I told him that I was going to New York on a matter in connection +with the case, but that I preferred to go alone, but I would tell him +the entire result of my mission as soon as I returned. I think he was +a little disappointed, but he was a good-natured chap, and bade me a +cheerful goodby, saying he would meet me on my return. + +I went to New York and went straight to the Albion Hotel. + +Learning at the desk that the lady was really there, I sent my card up +to her with a request for an immediate audience, and very soon I was +summoned to her apartment. + +She greeted me with that air of frigid reserve typical of an English +woman. Though not unattractive to look at, she possessed the high +cheekbones and prominent teeth which are almost universal in the women +of her nation. She was perhaps between thirty and forty years old, and +had the air of a grande dame. + +“Mr. Burroughs?” she said, looking through her lorgnon at my card, which +she held in her hand. + +“Yes,” I assented, and judging from her appearance that she was a woman +of a decided and straightforward nature I came at once to the point. + +“I'm a detective, madam,” I began, and the remark startled her out of +her calm. + +“A detective!” she cried out, with much the same tone as if I had said a +rattlesnake. + +“Do not be alarmed, I merely state my profession to explain my errand.” + +“Not be alarmed! when a detective comes to see me! How can I help it? +Why, I've never had such an experience before. It is shocking! I've met +many queer people in the States, but not a detective! Reporters are bad +enough!” + +“Don't let it disturb you so, Mrs. Purvis. I assure you there is nothing +to trouble you in the fact of my presence here, unless it is trouble of +your own making.” + +“Trouble of my own making!” she almost shrieked. “Tell me at once what +you mean, or I shall ring the bell and have you dismissed.” + +Her fear and excitement made me think that perhaps I was on the track +of new developments, and lest she should carry out her threat of ringing +the bell, I plunged at once into the subject. + +“Mrs. Purvis, have you lost a gold-mesh bag?” I said bluntly. + +“No, I haven't,” she snapped, “and if I had, I should take means to +recover it, and not wait for a detective to come and ask me about it.” + +I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she might be telling a falsehood +about the bag, but I didn't think so. She was angry, annoyed, and a +little frightened at my intrusion, but she was not at all embarrassed at +my question. + +“Are you quite sure you have not lost a gold-link bag?” I insisted, as +if in idiotic endeavor to persuade her to have done so. + +“Of course I'm sure,” she replied, half laughing now; “I suppose I +should know it if I had done so.” + +“It's a rather valuable bag,” I went on, “with a gold frame-work and +gold chain.” + +“Well, if it's worth a whole fortune, it isn't my bag,” she declared; +“for I never owned such a one.” + +“Well,” I said, in desperation, “your visiting card is in it.” + +“My visiting card!” she said, with an expression of blank wonderment. +“Well, even if that is true, it doesn't make it my bag. I frequently +give my cards to other people.” + +This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow I couldn't doubt her +assertion that it was not her bag, and yet the thought suddenly occurred +to me if she were clever enough to be implicated in the Crawford +tragedy, and if she had left her bag there, she would be expecting this +inquiry, and would probably be clever enough to have a story prepared. + +“Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, I'm going to ask you, in +the interests of justice, to help me all you can.” + +“I'm quite willing to do so, sir. What is it you wish to know?” + +“A crime has been committed in a small town in New Jersey. A gold-link +bag was afterward discovered at the scene of the crime, and though none +of its other contents betokened its owner, a visiting card with your +name on it was in the bag.” + +Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis seemed to get over her +fright, and was exceedingly sensible for a woman. + +“It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, and if my card is in it, I +can only say that I must have given that card to the lady who owns the +bag.” + +This seemed distinctly plausible, and also promised further information. + +“Do you remember giving your card to any lady with such a bag?” + +Mrs. Purvis smiled. “So many of your American women carry those bags,” + she said; “they seem to be almost universal this year. I have probably +given my card to a score of ladies, who immediately put it into just +such a bag.” + +“Could you tell me who they are?” + +“No, indeed;” and Mrs. Purvis almost laughed outright, at what was +doubtless a foolish question. + +“But can't you help me in any way?” I pleaded. + +“I don't really see how I can,” she replied. “You see I have so many +friends in New York, and they make little parties for me, or afternoon +teas. Then I meet a great many American ladies, and we often exchange +cards. But we do it so often that of course I can't remember every +particular instance. Have you the card you speak of?” + +I thanked my stars that I had been thoughtful enough to obtain the card +before leaving West Sedgwick, and taking it from my pocket-book, I gave +it to her. + +“Oh, that one!” she said; “perhaps I can help you a little, Mr. +Burroughs. That is an old-fashioned card, one of a few left over from an +old lot. I have been using them only lately, because my others gave +out. I have really gone much more into society in New York than I had +anticipated, and my cards seemed fairly to melt away. I ordered some new +ones here, but before they were sent to me I was obliged to use a few of +these old-fashioned ones. I don't know that this would help you, but I +think I can tell pretty nearly to whom I gave those cards.” + +It seemed a precarious sort of a chance, but as I talked with Mrs. +Purvis, I felt more and more positive that she herself was not +implicated in the Crawford case. However, it was just as well to make +certain. She had gone to her writing-desk, and seemed to be looking over +a diary or engagement book. + +“Mrs. Purvis,” I said, “will you tell me where you were on Tuesday +evening of last week?” + +“Certainly;” and she turned back the leaves of the book. “I went to a +theatre party with my friends, the Hepworths; and afterward, we went to +a little supper at a restaurant. I returned here about midnight. Must I +prove this?” she added, smiling; “for I can probably do so, by the hotel +clerk and by my maid. And, of course, by my friends who gave the party.” + +“No, you needn't prove it,” I answered, certain now that she knew +nothing of the Crawford matter; “but I hope you can give me more +information about your card.” + +“Why, I remember that very night, I gave my cards to two ladies who were +at the theatre with us; and I remember now that at that time I had only +these old-fashioned cards. I was rather ashamed of them, for Americans +are punctilious in such matters; and now that I think of it, one of the +ladies was carrying a gold-mesh bag.” + +“Who was she?” I asked, hardly daring to hope that I had really struck +the trail. + +“I can't seem to remember her name, but perhaps it will come to me. It +was rather an English type of name, something like Coningsby.” + +“Where did she live?” + +“I haven't the slightest idea. You see I meet these ladies so casually, +and I really never expect to see any of them again. Our exchange of +cards is a mere bit of formal courtesy. No, I can't remember her name, +or where she was from. But I don't think she was a New Yorker.” + +Truly it was hard to come so near getting what might be vital +information, and yet have it beyond my grasp! It was quite evident that +Mrs. Purvis was honestly trying to remember the lady's name, but could +not do so. + +And then I had what seemed to me an inspiration. “Didn't she give you +her card?” I asked. + +A light broke over Mrs. Purvis's face. “Why, yes, of course she did! And +I'm sure I can find it.” + +She turned to a card-tray, and rapidly running over the bits of +pasteboard, she selected three or four. + +“Here they are,” she exclaimed, “all here together. I mean all the cards +that were given me on that particular evening. And here is the name I +couldn't think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I remember distinctly that +she carried a gold bag, and no one else in the party did, for we were +admiring it. And here is her address on the card; Marathon Park, New +Jersey.” + +I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of the discovery. Had +I really found the name and address of the owner of the gold bag? Of +course there might be a slip yet, but the evidence seemed clear that +Mrs. Cunningham, of Marathon Park, owned the bag that had been the +subject of so much speculation. + +I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, but that was a mere detail. +I thanked Mrs. Purvis sincerely for the help she had given me, and I +was glad I had not told her that her casual acquaintance was perhaps +implicated in a murder mystery. + +I made my adieux and returned at once to West Sedgwick. + +As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the station, and I told him the +whole story, for I thought him entitled to the information at once. + +“Why, man alive!” he exclaimed, “Marathon Park is the very next station +to West Sedgwick!” + +“So it is!” I said; “I knew I had a hazy idea of having seen the name, +but the trains I have taken to and from New York have been expresses, +which didn't stop there, and I paid no attention to it.” + +“It's a small park,” went on Parmalee, “of swagger residences; very +exclusive and reserved, you know. You've certainly unearthed startling +news, but I can't help thinking that it will be a wild goose chase that +leads us to look for our criminal in Marathon Park!” + +“What do you think we'd better do?” said I. “Go to see Mrs. Cunningham?” + +“No, I wouldn't do that,” said Parmalee, who had a sort of plebeian +hesitancy at the thought of intruding upon aristocratic strangers. +“Suppose you write her a letter and just ask her if she has lost her +bag.” + +“All right,” I conceded, for truth to tell, I greatly preferred to stay +in West Sedgwick than to go out of it, for I had always the undefined +hope of seeing Florence Lloyd. + +So I wrote a letter, not exactly curt, but strictly formal, asking Mrs. +Cunningham if she had recently lost a gold-mesh bag, containing her +gloves and handkerchief. + +Then Parmalee and I agreed to keep the matter a secret until we should +get a reply to this, for we concluded there was no use in stirring up +public curiosity on the matter until we knew ourselves that we were on +the right trail. + + + + +XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG + + +The next day I received a letter addressed in modish, angular +penmanship, which, before I opened it, I felt sure had come from Mrs. +Cunningham. It ran as follows, + +Mr. HERBERT Burroughs, + +Dear Sir: Yes, I have lost a gold bag, and I have known all along that +it is the one the newspapers are talking so much about in connection +with the Crawford case. I know, too, that you are the detective on the +case, and though I can't imagine how you did it, I think it was awfully +clever of you to trace the bag to me, for I'm sure my name wasn't in it +anywhere. As I say, the bag is mine, but I didn't kill Mr. Crawford, and +I don't know who did. I would go straight to you, and tell you all about +it, but I am afraid of detectives and lawyers, and I don't want to be +mixed up in the affair anyway. But I am going to see Miss Lloyd, and +explain it all to her, and then she can tell you. Please don't let my +name get in the papers, as I hate that sort of prominence. + +Very truly yours, + +ELIZABETH CUNNINGHAM. + +I smiled a little over the femininity of the letter, but as Parmalee +had prophesied, Marathon Park was evidently no place to look for our +criminal. + +The foolish little woman who had written that letter, had no guilty +secret on her conscience, of that I was sure. + +I telephoned for Parmalee and showed him the letter. + +“It doesn't help us in one way,” he said, “for of course, Mrs. +Cunningham is not implicated. But the bag is still a clue, for how did +it get into Mr. Crawford's office?” + +“We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is,” I suggested. + +“He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag there, he +never would have let her send this letter.” + +“Perhaps he didn't know she wrote it.” + +“Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs. +Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd.” + +“Let us go over to the Crawford house, and tell Miss Lloyd about it.” + +“Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the little lady +won't get around so soon.” + +“Why a little lady?” I asked, smiling. + +“Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little yellow-haired +butterfly of a woman.” + +“Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd,” I said musingly. + +“Yes; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing a letter like that. +There's lots of personality in a woman's letter. Much more than in a +man's.” + +Parmalee went away, and prompted by his suggestions, I studied the +letter I had just received. It was merely an idle fancy, for if Mrs. +Cunningham was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it made little +difference to me what might be her stature or the color of her hair. +But, probably because of Parmalee's suggestion, I pictured her to +myself as a pretty young woman with that air of half innocence and half +ignorance which so well becomes the plump blonde type. + +The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was a pleasant place to sit, and +I had mused there for some time, when Mr. Carstairs came out to tell +me that I was asked for on the telephone. The call proved to be from +Florence Lloyd asking me to come to her at once. + +Only too glad to obey this summons, I went directly to the Crawford +house, wondering if any new evidence had been brought to light. + +Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered me into the library, where +Florence was receiving a lady caller. + +“Mrs. Cunningham,” said Florence, as I entered, “may I present Mr. +Burroughs--Mr. Herbert Burroughs. I sent for you,” she added, turning +to me, “because Mrs. Cunningham has an important story to tell, and I +thought you ought to hear it at once.” + +I bowed politely to the stranger, and awaited her disclosures. + +Mrs. Cunningham was a pretty, frivolous-looking woman, with appealing +blue eyes, and a manner half-childish, half-apologetic. + +I smiled involuntarily to see how nearly her appearance coincided +with the picture in my mind, and I greeted her almost as if she were a +previous acquaintance. + +“I know I've done very wrong,” she began, with a nervous little flutter +of her pretty hands; “but I'm ready now to 'fess up, as the children +say.” + +She looked at me, so sure of an answering smile, that I gave it, and +said, + +“Let us hear your confession, Mrs. Cunningham; I doubt if it's a very +dreadful one.” + +“Well, you see,” she went on, “that gold bag is mine.” + +“Yes,” I said; “how did it get here?” + +“I've no idea,” she replied, and I could see that her shallow nature +fairly exulted in the sensation she was creating. “I went to New York +that night, to the theatre, and I carried my gold bag, and I left it in +the train when I got out at the station.” + +“West Sedgwick?” I asked. + +“No; I live at Marathon Park, the next station to this.” + +“Next on the way to New York?” + +“Yes. And when I got out of the train--I was with my husband and some +other people--we had been to a little theatre party--I missed the +bag. But I didn't tell Jack, because I knew he'd scold me for being so +careless. I thought I'd get it back from the Lost and Found Department, +and then, the very next day, I read in the paper about the--the--awful +accident, and it told about a gold bag being found here.” + +“You recognized it as yours?” + +“Of course; for the paper described everything in it--even to the +cleaner's advertisement that I'd just cut out that very day.” + +“Why didn't you come and claim it at once?” + +“Oh, Mr. Burroughs, you must know why I didn't! Why, I was scared 'most +to death to read the accounts of the terrible affair; and to mix in it, +myself--ugh! I couldn't dream of anything so horrible.” + +It was absurd, but I had a desire to shake the silly little bundle of +femininity who told this really important story, with the twitters and +simpers of a silly school-girl. + +“And you would not have come, if I had not written you?” + +She hesitated. “I think I should have come soon, even without your +letter.” + +“Why, Mrs. Cunningham?” + +“Well, I kept it secret as long as I could, but yesterday Jack saw that +I had something on my mind. I couldn't fool him any longer.” + +“As to your having a mind!” I said to myself, but I made no comment +aloud. + +“So I told him all about it, and he said I must come at once and tell +Miss Lloyd, because, you see, they thought it was her bag all the time.” + +“Yes,” I said gravely; “it would have been better if you had come at +first, with your story. Have you any one to substantiate it, or any +proofs that it is the truth?” + +The blue eyes regarded me with an injured expression. Then she +brightened again. + +“Oh, yes, I can `prove property'; that's what you mean, isn't it? I can +tell you which glove finger is ripped, and just how much money is in the +bag, and--and here's a handkerchief exactly like the one I carried that +night. Jack said if I told you all these things, you'd know it's my bag, +and not Miss Lloyd's.” + +“And then, there was a card in it.” + +“A card? My card?” + +“No, not your card; a card with another name on it. Don't you know +whose?” + +Mrs. Cunningham thought for a moment. Then, “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. +“Mrs. Purvis gave me her card, and I tucked it in the pocket of the bag. +Was that the way you discovered the bag was mine? And how did that make +you know it.” + +“I'll tell you about that some other time if you wish, Mrs. Cunningham; +but just now I want to get at the important part of your story. How did +your gold bag get in Mr. Crawford's office?” + +“Ah, how did it?” The laughing face was sober now and she seemed +appalled at the question. “Jack says some one must have found it in the +car-seat where I left it, and he”--she lowered her voice--“he must be +the--” + +“The murderer,” I supplied calmly. “It does look that way. You have +witnesses, I suppose, who saw you in that train?” + +“Mercy, yes! Lots of them. The train reaches Marathon Park at 12: 50, +and is due here at one o'clock. Ever so many people got out at our +station. There were six in our own party, and others besides. And the +conductor knows me, and everybody knows Jack. He's Mr. John Le Roy +Cunningham.” + +It was impossible to doubt all this. Further corroboration it might be +well to get, but there was not the slightest question in my mind as to +the little lady's truthfulness. + +“I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham,” I said, “for coming to us with your +story. You may not be able to get your bag to-day, but I assure you it +will, be sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can be made. These +are merely for the sake of formalities, for, as you say, your fellow +townspeople can certify to your presence on the train, and your leaving +it at the Marathon Park station.” + +“Yes,” she replied; “and”--she handed me a paper--“there's my husband's +address, and his lawyer's address, and the addresses of all the people +that were in our party that night. Jack said you might like to have the +list. He would have come himself to-day, only he's fearfully busy. And I +said I didn't mind coming alone, just to see Miss Lloyd. I wouldn't +have gone to a jury meeting, though. And I'm in no hurry for the bag. +In fact, I don't care much if I never get it. It wasn't the value of +the thing that made me come at all, but the fear that my bag might make +trouble for Miss Lloyd. Jack said it might. I don't see how, myself, +but I'm a foolish little thing, with no head for business matters.” She +shook her head, and gurgled an absurd little laugh, and then, after a +loquacious leave-taking, she went away. + +“Well?” I said to Florence, and then, “Well?” Florence said to me. + +It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance had progressed. Already +we had laid aside all formality of speech and manner, and if the girl +had not really discovered my mental attitude toward her, at least I +think she must have suspected it. + +“Of course,” I began, “I knew it wasn't your bag, because you said it +wasn't. But I did incline a little to the `woman visitor' theory, and +now that is destroyed. I think we must conclude that the bag was brought +here by the person who found it on that midnight train.” + +“Why didn't that person turn it over to the conductor?” she said, more +as if thinking to herself than speaking to me. + +“Yes, why, indeed?” I echoed. “And if he brought it here, and committed +a criminal act, why go away and leave it here?” + +I think it was at the same moment that the minds of both of us turned +to Gregory Hall. Her eyes fell, and as for me, I was nearly stunned with +the thoughts that came rushing to my brain. + +If the late newspaper had seemed to point to Hall's coming out on that +late train, how much more so this bag, which had been left on that very +train. + +We were silent for a time, and then, lifting her sweet eyes bravely to +mine, Florence said, + +“I have something to tell you.” + +“Yes,” I replied, crushing down the longing to take her in my arms and +let her tell it there. + +“Mr. Hall had a talk with me this morning. He says that he and the +others have searched everywhere possible for the will, and it cannot +be found. He says Uncle Joseph must have destroyed it, and that it is +practically settled that Uncle Philip is the legal heir. Of course, Mr. +Philip Crawford isn't my uncle, but I have always called him that, and +Phil and I have been just like cousins.” + +“What else did Mr. Hall say?” I asked, for I divined that the difficult +part of her recital was yet to come. + +“He said,” she went on, with a rising color, “that he wished me to break +our engagement.” + +I will do myself the justice to say that although my first +uncontrollable thought was one of pure joy at this revelation, yet it +was instantly followed by sympathy and consideration for her. + +“Why?” I asked in a voice that I tried to keep from being hard. + +“He says,” she continued, with a note of weariness in her voice, “that +he is not a rich man, and cannot give me the comforts and luxuries to +which I have been accustomed, and that therefore it is only right for +him to release me.” + +“Of course you didn't accept his generous sacrifice,” I said; and my own +hopes ran riot as I listened for her answer. + +“I told him I was willing to share poverty with him,” she said, with a +quiet dignity, as if telling an impersonal tale, “but he insisted that +the engagement should be broken.” + +“And is it?” I asked eagerly, almost breathlessly. + +She gave me that look which always rebuked me--always put me back in my +place--but which, it seemed to me, was a little less severe than ever +before. “It's left undecided for a day or two,” she said. Then she added +hurriedly, + +“I must see if he needs me. Do you suppose this story of Mrs. +Cunningham's will in any way--well, affect him?” + +“It may,” I replied truthfully. “At any rate, he must be made to tell +where he was and what he was doing Tuesday night. You have no idea, have +you?” + +Florence hesitated a moment, looked at me in a way I could not fathom, +and then, but only after a little choking sound in her throat, she said, + +“No, I have no idea.” + +It was impossible to believe her. No one would show such emotion, such +difficulty of speech, if telling a simple truth. Yet when I looked in +her troubled eyes, and read there anxiety, uncertainty, and misery, I +only loved her more than ever. Truly it was time for me to give up this +case. Whatever turn it took, I was no fit person to handle clues or +evidence which filled me with deadly fear lest they turn against the one +I loved. + +And yet that one, already suspected by many, had been proved to have +both motive and opportunity. + +And I, I who loved her, knew that, in one instance, at least, she had +been untruthful. + +Yes, it was high time for me to give this case into other hands. + +I looked at her again, steadily but with a meaning in my glance that I +hoped she would understand. I wanted her to know, that though of course +justice was my end and aim, yet I was sure the truth could not implicate +her, and if it did implicate Mr. Hall, the sooner we discovered it the +better. + +I think she appreciated my meaning, for the troubled look in her own +eyes disappeared, and she seemed suddenly almost willing to give me her +full confidence. + +I resolved to make the most of my opportunity. + +“Of course you know,” I said gently, “that I want to believe all you say +to me. But, Miss Lloyd, your naturally truthful nature so rebels at +your unveracity, that it is only too plain to be seen when you are not +telling the truth. Now, I do not urge you, but I ask you to tell me, +confidentially if you choose, what your surmise is as to Mr. Hall's +strange reticence.” + +“It is only a surmise,” she said, and though the troubled look came back +to her eyes, she looked steadily at me. “And I have no real reason even +to think it, but I can't help feeling that Gregory is interested in some +other woman beside myself.” + +Again I felt that uncontrollable impulse of satisfaction at this +disclosure, and again I stifled it. I endeavored to treat the matter +lightly. “Is that all?” I asked; “do you mean that perhaps Mr. Hall was +calling on some other lady acquaintance that evening?” + +“Yes, that is what I do mean. And, as I say, I have no real reason to +think it. But still, Mr. Burroughs, if it were true, I cannot agree with +you that it is unimportant. Surely a man is not expected to call on one +woman when he is betrothed to another, or at least, not to make a secret +of it.” + +I thoroughly agreed with her, and my opinion that Hall was a cad +received decided confirmation. + +“My treating it as a light matter, Miss Lloyd, was not quite sincere. +Indeed, I may as well confess that it was partly to cover the too +serious interest I take in the matter.” + +She looked up, startled at this, but as my eyes told her a certain +truth I made no effort to conceal, she looked down again, and her lip +quivered. + +I pulled myself together. “Don't think I am taking advantage of your +confidence,” I said gently; “I want only to help you. Please consider me +an impersonal factor, and let me do all I can for you. For the moment, +let us suppose your surmise is correct. This would, of course, free Mr. +Hall from any implication of crime.” + +“Yes, and while I can't suspect him of anything like crime, I hate, +also, to suspect him of disloyalty to me.” + +Her head went up with a proud gesture, and I suddenly knew that the +thought of Hall's interest in another woman, affected her pride and her +sense of what was due her, far more than it did her heart. Her fear was +not so much that Hall loved another woman, as that his secrecy in the +matter meant a slight to her own dignified position. + +“I understand, Miss Lloyd, and I hope for the sake of all concerned, +your surmise is not correct. But, with your permission, I feel it my +duty to discover where Mr. Hall was that evening, even if to do this it +is necessary to have professional assistance from headquarters.” + +She shuddered at this. “It is so horrid,” she said, “to spy upon a +gentleman's movements, if he is only engaged in his personal affairs.” + +“If we were sure of that, we need not spy upon him. But to the eye +of justice there is always the possibility that he was not about his +personal affairs that evening, but was here in West Sedgwick.” + +“You don't really suspect him, do you?” she said; and she looked at me +as if trying to read my very soul. + +“I'm afraid I do,” I answered gravely; “but not so much from evidence +against him, as because I don't know where else to look. Do you?” + +“No,” said Florence Lloyd. + + + + +XVIII. IN Mr. GOODRICH'S OFFICE + + +As was my duty I went next to the district attorney's office to tell +him about Mrs. Cunningham and the gold bag, and to find out from him +anything I could concerning Gregory Hall. I found Mr. Porter calling +there, and both he and Mr. Goodrich welcomed me as a possible bringer of +fresh news. When I said that I did know of new developments, Mr. Porter +half rose from his chair. + +“I dare say I've no business here,” he said; “but you know the deep +interest I take in this whole matter. Joseph Crawford was my lifelong +friend and near neighbor, and if I can be in any way instrumental in +freeing Florence from this web of suspicion--” + +I turned on him angrily, and interrupted him by saying, + +“Excuse me, Mr. Porter; no one has as yet voiced a suspicion against +Miss Lloyd. For you to put such a thought into words, is starting a mine +of trouble.” + +The older man looked at me indulgently, and I think his shrewd +perceptions told him at once that I was more interested in Miss Lloyd +than a mere detective need be. + +“You are right,” he said; “but I considered this a confidential +session.” + +“It is,” broke in Mr. Goodrich, “and if you will stay, Mr. Porter, I +shall be glad to have you listen to whatever Mr. Burroughs has to tell +us, and then give us the benefit of your advice.” + +I practically echoed the district attorney's words, for I knew Lemuel +Porter to be a clear-headed and well-balanced business man, and his +opinions well worth having. + +So it was to two very interested hearers that I related first the story +of Florence's coming downstairs at eleven o'clock on the fatal night, +for a final endeavor to gain her uncle's consent to her betrothal. + +“Then it was her bag!” exclaimed Mr. Porter. “I thought so all the +time.” + +I said nothing at the moment and listened for Mr. Goodrich's comment. + +“To my mind,” said the district attorney slowly, “this story, told now +by Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. If the girl were guilty, or had any +guilty knowledge of the crime, she would not have told of this matter +at all. It was not forced from her; she told it voluntarily, and I, for +one, believe it.” + +“She told it,” said I, “because she wished to take the responsibility +of the fallen rose petals upon herself. Since we are speaking plainly, +I may assure you, gentlemen, that she told of her later visit to the +office because I hinted to her that the yellow leaves might implicate +Gregory Hall.” + +“Then,” said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, “she herself suspects Mr. Hall, +which proves that she is innocent.” + +“It doesn't prove her innocent of collusion,” observed Mr. Porter. + +“Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall,” I added. “It merely +shows that she fears others may suspect him.” + +“It is very complicated,” said the district attorney. + +“It is,” I agreed, “and that is why I wish to send for the famous +detective, Fleming Stone.” + +“Stone! Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. “I have every confidence in +your skill, Mr. Burroughs; I would not insult you by calling in another +detective.” + +“Surely not,” agreed Mr. Porter. “If you need help, Mr. Burroughs, +confer with our local man, Mr. Parmalee. He's a pretty clever chap, and +I don't know why you two don't work more together.” + +“We do work together,” said I. “Mr. Parmalee is both clever and +congenial, and we have done our best in the matter. But the days are +going by and little of real importance has been discovered. However, +I haven't told you as yet, the story of the gold bag. I have found its +owner.” + +Of course there were exclamations of surprise at this, but realizing its +importance they quietly listened to my story. + +With scarcely a word of interruption from my hearers, I told them how I +had found the card in the bag, how I had learned about Mrs. Purvis from +headquarters, how I had gone to see her, and how it had all resulted in +Mrs. Cunningham's visit to Miss Lloyd that morning. + +“Well!” exclaimed Mr. Porter, as I concluded the narrative. “Well! +Of all things! Well, I am amazed! Why, this gives a wide scope of +possibilities. Scores of our people come out on that theatre train every +night.” + +“But not scores of people would have a motive for putting Joseph +Crawford out of the way,” said Mr. Goodrich, who sat perplexedly +frowning. + +Then, by way of a trump card, I told them of the “extra” edition of the +evening paper I had found in the office. + +The district attorney stared at me, but still sat frowning and silent. + +But Mr. Porter expressed his wonderment. + +“How it all fits in!” he cried. “The bag, known to be from that late +train; the paper, known to have been bought late in New York! Burroughs, +you're a wonder! Indeed, we don't want any Fleming Stone, when you can +do such clever sleuthing as this.” + +I stared at him. Nothing I had done seemed to me “clever sleuthing,” nor +did my simple discoveries seem to me of any great significance. + +“I don't like it,” said Mr. Goodrich, at last. “Everything so far known, +both early and late information, seems to me to point to Gregory Hall +and Florence Lloyd in collusion.” + +“But you said,” I interrupted, “that Miss Lloyd's confession that she +did go down-stairs late at night was in her favor.” + +“I said that before I knew about this bag story. Now I think the case is +altered, and the two who had real motive are undoubtedly the suspects.” + +“But they had no motive,” said Mr. Porter, “since Florence doesn't +inherit the fortune.” + +“But they thought she did,” explained the district attorney, “and so the +motive was just as strong. Mr. Burroughs, I wish you would confer with +Mr. Parmalee, and both of you set to work on the suggestions I +have advanced. It is a painful outlook, to be sure, but justice is +inexorable. You agree with me, Mr. Porter?” + +Mr. Porter started, as if he, too, had been in a brown study. + +“I do and I don't,” he said. “Personally, I think both those young +people are innocent, but if I am correct, no harm will be done by a +further investigation of their movements on Tuesday night. I think Mr. +Hall ought to tell where he was that night, if only in self-defense. +If he proves he was in New York, and did not come out here, it will not +only clear him, but also Florence. For I think no one suspects her of +anything more than collusion with him.” + +Of course I had no mind to tell these men what Florence had told me +confidentially about Mr. Hall's possible occupation Tuesday evening. +They were determined to investigate that very question, and so, if her +surmise were correct, it would disclose itself. + +“Very well,” I said, after listening to a little further discussion, +which was really nothing but repetition, “then I will consult with Mr. +Parmalee, and we will try to make further investigation of Mr. Hall's +doings. But I'm ready to admit that it does not look easy to me to +discover anything of importance. Mr. Hall is a secretive man, and unless +we have a definite charge against him it is difficult to make him talk.” + +“Well, you can certainly learn something,” said Mr. Goodrich. “At any +rate devote a few days to the effort. I have confidence in you, Mr. +Burroughs, and I don't think you need call in a man whom you consider +your superior. But if you'll excuse me for making a suggestion, let +me ask you to remember that a theory of Hall's guilt also possibly +implicates Miss Lloyd. You will probably discover this for yourself, but +don't let your natural chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personal +element in this case, blind you to the facts.” + +Although he put it delicately, I quite understood that he had noticed +my personal interest in Florence Lloyd, and so, as it was my duty to +disregard that interest in my work, I practically promised to remember +his injunction. + +It was then that I admitted to myself the true state of my mind. I felt +sure Florence was innocent, but I knew appearances were strongly against +her, and I feared I should bungle the case because of the very intensity +of my desire not to. And I thought that Fleming Stone, in spite of +evidence, would be able to prove what I felt was the truth, that +Florence was guiltless of all knowledge of or complicity in her uncle's +death. + +However, I had promised to go on with the quest, and I urged myself on, +with the hope that further developments might clear Florence, even if +they more deeply implicated Gregory Hall. + +I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the matter, +and methodically recording my conclusions. And, while I thought, I +became more and more convinced that, whether Florence connived or +not, Hall was the villain, and that he had actually slain his employer +because he had threatened to disinherit his niece. + +Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that night, Mr. Crawford was +already engaged in drawing up the new will, and in order to purloin +it Hall had killed him, not knowing that the other will was already +destroyed. And destroyed it must be, for surely Hall had no reason to +steal or suppress the will that favored Florence. + +As a next move, I decided to interview Mr. Hall. + +Such talks as I had had with him so far, had been interrupted and +unsatisfactory. Now I would see him alone, and learn something from his +manner and appearance. + +I found him, as I had expected, in the office of his late employer. He +was surrounded with papers, and was evidently very busy, but he greeted +me with a fair show of cordiality, and offered me a chair. + +“I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall,” I said, “and as I see you're +busy, I will be as brief as possible.” + +“I've been expecting you,” said he calmly. “In fact, I'm rather +surprised that you haven't been here before.” + +“Why?” said I, eying him closely. + +“Only because the inquiries made at the inquest amounted to very little, +and I assumed you would question all the members of the household +again.” + +“I'm not sure that's necessary,” I responded, following his example in +adopting a light, casual tone. “I have no reason to suspect that the +servants told other than the exact truth. I have talked to both the +ladies, and now I've only a few questions to put to you.” + +He looked up, surprised at my self-satisfied air. + +“Have you nailed the criminal?” he asked, with a greater show of +interest than he had before evinced. + +“Not exactly nailed him, perhaps. But we fancy we are on the scent.” + +“Resent what?” he asked, looking blank. + +“I didn't say `resent.' I said, we are on the scent.” + +“Oh, yes. And in what direction does it lead you?” + +“In your direction,” I said, willing to try what effect bluntness might +have upon this composed young man. + +“I beg your pardon?” he said, as if he hadn't heard me. + +“Evidences are pointing toward you as the criminal,” I said, determined +to disturb his composure if I could. + +Instead of showing surprise or anger, he gave a slight smile, as one +would at an idea too ridiculous to be entertained for an instant. +Somehow, that smile was more convincing to me than any verbal +protestation could have been. + +Then I realized that the man was doubtless a consummate actor, and +he had carefully weighed the value of that supercilious smile against +asseverations of innocence. So I went on: + +“When did you first learn of the accident to the Atlantic liner, the +North America?” + +“I suppose you mean that question for a trap,” he said coolly; “but I +haven't the least objection to answering it. I bought a late 'extra' in +New York City the night of the disaster.” + +“At what hour did you buy it?” + +“I don't know exactly. It was some time after midnight.” + +Really, there was little use in questioning this man. If he had bought +his paper at half-past eleven, as I felt positive he did, and if he had +come out to Sedgwick on the twelve o'clock train, he was quite capable +of answering me in this casual way, to throw me off the track. + +Well, I would try once again. + +“Excuse me, Mr. Hall, but I am obliged to ask you some personal +questions now. Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?” + +“I beg your pardon?” + +His continued requests for me to repeat my questions irritated me beyond +endurance. Of course it was a bluff to gain time, but he did it so +politely, I couldn't rebuke him. + +“Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?” I repeated. + +“No, I think not,” he said slowly. “She wants to break it off, and I, +as a poor man, should not stand in the way of her making a brilliant +marriage. She has many opportunities for such, as her uncle often told +me, and I should be selfish indeed, now that she herself is poor, to +hold her to her promise to me.” + +The hypocrite! To lay on Florence the responsibility for breaking the +engagement. Truly, she was well rid of him, and I hoped I could convince +her of the fact. + +“But she is not so poor,” I said. “Mr. Philip Crawford told me he +intends to provide for her amply. And I'm sure that means a fair-sized +fortune, for the Crawfords are generous people.” + +Gregory Hall's manner changed. + +“Did Philip Crawford say that?” he cried. “Are you sure?” + +“Of course I'm sure, as he said it to me.” + +“Then Florence and I may be happy yet,” he said; and as I looked him +straight in the eye, he had the grace to look ashamed of himself, +and, with a rising color, he continued: “I hope you understand me, Mr. +Burroughs. No man could ask a girl to marry him if he knew that meant +condemning her to comparative poverty.” + +“No, of course not,” said I sarcastically. “Then I assume that, so far +as you are concerned, your engagement with Miss Lloyd is not broken?” + +“By no means. In fact, I could not desert her just now, when there is +a--well, a sort of a cloud over her.” + +“What do you mean?” I thundered. “There is no cloud over her.” + +“Well, you know, the gold bag and the yellow rose leaves...” + +“Be silent! The gold bag has been claimed by its owner. But you are +responsible for its presence in this room! You, who brought it from +the midnight train, and left it here! You, who also left the late city +newspaper here! You, who also dropped two yellow petals from the rose in +your buttonhole.” + +Gregory Hall seemed to turn to stone as he listened to my words. He +became white, then ashen gray. His hands clinched his chair-arms, and +his eyes grew glassy and fixed. + +I pushed home my advantage. “And therefore, traced by these undeniable +evidences, I know that you are the slayer of Joseph Crawford. You killed +your friend, your benefactor, your employer, in order that he might not +disinherit the girl whose fortune you wish to acquire by marrying her!” + +Though I had spoken in low tones, my own intense emotion made my words +emphatic, and as I finished I was perhaps the more excited of the two. + +For Hall's composure had returned; his face resumed its natural color; +his eyes their normal expression--that of cold indifference. + +“Mr. Burroughs,” he said quietly, “you must be insane.” + +“That is no answer to my accusations,” I stormed. “I tell you of the +most conclusive evidence against yourself, and instead of any attempt to +refute it you mildly remark, `you are insane.' It is you who are insane, +Mr. Hall, if you think you can escape arrest and trial for the murder of +Joseph Crawford.” + +“Oh, I think I can,” was his only answer, with that maddening little +smile of his. + +“Then where were you on Tuesday night?” + +“Excuse me?” + +“Where were you on Tuesday night?” + +“That I refuse to tell--as I have refused before, and shall always +refuse.” + +“Because you were here, and because you have too much wisdom to try to +prove a false alibi.” + +He looked at me half admiringly. “You are right in that,” he said. “It +is extremely foolish for any one to fake an alibi, and I certainly never +should try to do so.” + +“That's how I know you were here,” I replied triumphantly. + +“You do, do you? Well, Mr. Burroughs, I don't pretend to misunderstand +you--for Miss Lloyd has told me all about Mrs. Cunningham and her bag +that she left in the train. But I will say this if you think I came out +on that midnight train, go and ask the conductor. He knows me, and as +I often do come out on that train, he may remember that I was not on it +that night. And while you're about it, and since you consider that late +newspaper a clue, also ask him who was on the train that might have come +here afterward.” + +If this was bluffing, it was a very clever bluff, and magnificently +carried out. Probably his hope was that the conductor could not say +definitely as to Hall's presence on the late train, and any other names +he might mention would only complicate matters. + +But before I left I made one more attempt to get at this man's secret. + +“Mr. Hall,” I began, “I am not unfriendly. In fact, for Miss Lloyd's +sake as well as your own, I should like to remove every shadow of +suspicion that hovers near either or both of you.” + +“I know that,” he said quickly. “Don't think I can't see through your +`friendliness' to Miss Lloyd! But be careful there, Mr. Burroughs. A man +does not allow too many `friendly' glances toward the girl he is engaged +to.” + +So he had discovered my secret! Well, perhaps it was a good thing. Now I +could fight for Florence more openly if necessary. + +“You are right, Mr. Hall,” I went on. “I hold Miss Lloyd in very high +esteem, and I assure you, as man to man, that so long as you and she are +betrothed, neither of you will have cause to look on me as other than a +detective earnest in his work in your behalf.” + +“Thank you,” said Hall, a little taken aback by my frankness. + +I went away soon after that, and without quizzing him any further, +for, though I still suspected him, I realized that he would never say +anything to incriminate himself. + +The theory that the criminal was some one who came in on that midnight +train was plausible indeed; but what a scope it offered! + +Why, a total stranger to Sedgwick might have come and gone, entirely +unobserved, in the crowd. + +It was with little hope, therefore, that I arranged for an interview +with the conductor of the train. + +He lived in Hunterton, a few stations from West Sedgwick, and, after +ascertaining by telephone that he could see me the next day, I went to +his house. + +“Well, no,” he replied, after thinking over my query a bit; “I don't +think Mr. Hall came out from New York that night. I'm 'most sure he +didn't, because he usually gives me his newspaper as he steps off the +train, and I didn't get any `extra' that night.” + +Of course this wasn't positive proof that Hall wasn't there, so I asked +him to tell me all the West Sedgwick people that he did remember as +being on his train that night. + +He mentioned a dozen or more, but they were nearly all names unknown to +me. + +“Do you remember the Cunninghams being on the train?” I asked. + +“Those Marathon Park people? Oh, yes. They were a gay party,--coming +back from a theatre supper, I suppose. And that reminds me: Philip +Crawford sat right behind the Cunninghams. I forgot him before. Well, I +guess that's all the West Sedgwick people I can remember.” + +I went away not much the wiser, but with a growing thought that buzzed +in my brain. + +It was absurd, of course. But he had said Philip Crawford had sat right +behind Mrs. Cunningham. How, then, could he help seeing the gold bag she +left behind, when she got out at the station just before West Sedgwick? +Indeed, who else could have seen it but the man in the seat directly +behind? Even if some one else had picked it up and carried it from the +car, Mr. Crawford must have seen it. + +Moreover, why hadn't he said he was on that train? Why conceal such a +simple matter? Again, who had profited by the whole affair? And why had +Gregory Hall said: “Ask the conductor who did get off that train?” + +The rose petals were already explained by Florence. If, then, Philip +Crawford had, much later, come to his brother's with the gold bag and +the late newspaper, and had gone away and left them there, and had never +told of all this, was there not a new direction in which to look? + +But Philip Crawford! The dead man's own brother! + + + + +XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN + + +The enormity of suspecting Philip Crawford was so great, to my mind, +that I went at once to the district attorney's office for consultation +with him. + +Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, and then, when I waited for +comment, said quietly: + +“Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought all along that Philip +Crawford was concealing something, but I didn't think, and don't think +now, that he has any guilty secret of his own. I rather fancied he +might know something that, if told, would be detrimental to Miss Lloyd's +cause.” + +“It may be so,” I returned, “but I can't see how that would make him +conceal the fact of his having been on that late train Tuesday night. +Why, I discussed with him the possibility of Hall's coming out on it, +and it would have been only natural to say he was on it, and didn't see +Hall.” + +“Unless he did see him,” remarked the district attorney. + +“Yes; there's that possibility. He may be shielding Hall for Miss +Lloyd's sake--and--” + +“Let's go to see him,” suggested Mr. Goodrich. “I believe in the +immediate following up of any idea we may have.” + +It was about five in the afternoon, an hour when we were likely to find +Mr. Crawford at home, so we started off at once, and on reaching his +house we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in the library, but +that he would see us. So to the library we went, and found Mr. Crawford +and his lawyer hard at work on the papers of the Joseph Crawford estate. + +Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I detected a look of +apprehension on Philip Crawford's face, as we entered, but he greeted us +in his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be seated. + +“To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford,” said the district attorney, +“Mr. Burroughs and I are still searching for new light on the tragedy of +your brother's death. And now Mr. Burroughs wants to put a few questions +to you, which may help him in his quest.” + +Philip Crawford looked straight at me with his piercing eyes, and it +seemed to me that he straightened himself, as for an expected blow. + +“Yes, Mr. Burroughs,” he said courteously. “What is it you want to ask?” + +So plain and straightforward was his manner, that I decided to be +equally direct. + +“Did you come out in that midnight train from New York last Tuesday +night?” I began. + +“I did,” he replied, in even tones. + +“While on the train did you sit behind a lady who left a gold bag in the +seat when she got out?” + +“I did.” + +“Did you pick up that bag and take it away with you?” + +“I did.” + +“Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag that was found in your +brother's office, I think you owe a more detailed explanation.” + +To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, who heard these +questions and answers, were astounded, is putting it too mildly. They +were almost paralyzed with surprise and dismay. + +To hear these condemning assertions straight from the lips of the man +they incriminated was startling indeed. + +“You are right,” said Philip Crawford. “I do owe an explanation, and I +shall give it here and now.” + +Although what he was going to say was doubtless a confession, Mr. +Crawford's face showed an unmistakable expression of relief. He seemed +like a man who had borne a terrible secret around with him for the past +week, and was now glad that he was about to impart it to some one else. + +He spoke very gravely, but with no faltering or hesitation. + +“This is a solemn confession,” he said, turning to his lawyer, “and +is made to the district attorney, with yourself and Mr. Burroughs as +witnesses.” + +Mr. Randolph bowed his head, in acknowledgment of this formal statement. + +“I am a criminal in the eyes of the law,” said Mr. Crawford, in an +impersonal tone, which I knew he adopted to hide any emotion he might +feel. “I have committed a dastardly crime. But I am not the murderer of +my brother Joseph.” + +We all felt our hearts lightened of a great load, for it was impossible +to disbelieve that calm statement and the clear gaze of those truthful, +unafraid eyes. + +“The story I have to tell will sound as if I might have been my +brother's slayer, and this is why I assert the contrary at the outset.” + +Pausing here, Mr. Crawford unlocked the drawer of a desk and took out a +small pistol, which he laid on the table. + +“That,” he said, “is my revolver, and it is the weapon with which my +brother was killed.” + +I felt a choking sensation. Philip Crawford's manner was so far +removed from a sensational--or melodramatic effect, that it was doubly +impressive. I believed his statement that he did not kill his brother, +but what could these further revelations mean? Hall? Florence? Young +Philip? Whom would Philip Crawford thus shield for a whole week, and +then, when forced to do so, expose? + +“You are making strange declarations, Mr. Crawford,” said Lawyer +Randolph, who was already white-faced and trembling. + +“I know it,” went on Philip Crawford, “and I trust you three men will +hear my story through, and then take such measures as you see fit. + +“This pistol, as I said, is my property. Perhaps about a month ago, +I took it over to my brother Joseph. He has always been careless of +danger, and as he was in the habit of sitting in his office until very +late, with the long windows open on a dark veranda, I often told him he +ought to keep a weapon in his desk, by way of general protection. Then, +after there had been a number of burglaries in West Sedgwick, I took +this pistol to him, and begged him as a favor to me to let it stay in +his desk drawer as a precautionary measure. He laughed at my solicitude, +but put it away in a drawer, the upper right-hand one, among his +business papers. So much for the pistol. + +“Last Tuesday night I came out from New York on that midnight train that +reaches West Sedgwick station at one o'clock. In the train I did not +notice especially who sat near me, but when I reached our station and +started to leave the car, I noticed a gold bag in the seat ahead. I +picked it up, and, with a half-formed intention of handing it to the +conductor, I left the train. But as I stepped off I did not see the +conductor, and, though I looked about for him, he did not appear, and +the train moved on. I looked in the station, but the ticket agent was +not visible, and as the hour was so late I slipped the bag into my +pocket, intending to hand it over to the railroad authorities next +morning. In fact, I thought little about it, for I was very much +perturbed over some financial considerations. I had been reading my +newspaper all the way out, from the city. It was an `extra,' with the +account of the steamship accident.” + +Here Mr. Crawford looked at me, as much as to say, “There's your +precious newspaper clue,” but his manner was indicative only of sadness +and grief; he had no cringing air as of a murderer. + +“However, I merely skimmed the news about the steamer, so interested was +I in the stock market reports. I needn't now tell the details, but +I knew that Joseph had a `corner' in X.Y. stock. I was myself a heavy +investor in it, and I began to realize that I must see Joseph at once, +and learn his intended actions for the next day. If he threw his stock +on the market, there would be a drop of perhaps ten points and I should +be a large loser, if, indeed, I were not entirely wiped out. So I went +from the train straight to my brother's home. When I reached the gate, +I saw there was a low light in his office, so I went round that way, +instead of to the front door. As I neared the veranda, and went up the +steps, I drew from my overcoat pocket the newspaper, and, feeling the +gold bag there also, I drew that out, thinking to show it to Joseph. +As I look back now, I think it occurred to me that the bag might be +Florence's; I had seen her carry one like it. But, as you can readily +understand, I gave no coherent thought to the bag, as my mind was +full of the business matter. The French window was open, and I stepped +inside.” + +Mr. Crawford paused here, but he gave way to no visible emotion. He was +like a man with an inexorable duty to perform, and no wish to stop until +it was finished. + +But truth was stamped unmistakably in every word and every look. + +“Only the desk light was turned on, but that gave light enough for me to +see my brother sitting dead in his chair. I satisfied myself that he +was really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I looked about the room. +Though I felt benumbed and half unconscious, physically, my thoughts +worked rapidly. On the desk before him I saw his will.” + +An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph was the only sound that +greeted this astonishing statement. + +“Yes,” and Mr. Crawford took a document from the same drawer whence he +had taken the pistol; “there is Joseph Crawford's will, leaving all his +property to Florence Lloyd.” + +Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his client passed to him, and, +after a glance at it, laid it on the table in front of him. + +“That was my crime,” said Philip Crawford solemnly, “and I thank God +that I can confess it and make restitution. I must have been suddenly +possessed of a devil of greed, for the moment I saw that will, I knew +that if I took it away the property would be mine, and I would then run +no danger of being ruined by my stock speculations. I had a dim feeling +that I should eventually give all, or a large part, of the fortune to +Florence, but at the moment I was obsessed by evil, and I--I stole my +brother's will.” + +It was an honest confession of an awful crime. But under the spell +of that strong, low voice, and the upright bearing of that impressive +figure, we could not, at the moment, condemn; we could only listen and +wait. + +“Then,” the speaker proceeded, “I was seized with the terrific, +unreasoning fear that I dare say always besets a malefactor. I had but +one thought, to get away, and leave the murder to be discovered by some +one else. In a sort of subconscious effort at caution, I took my pistol, +lest it prove incriminating evidence against me, but in my mad frenzy of +fear, I gave no thought to the gold bag or the newspaper. I came home, +secreted the will and the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubts +as to the existence of a hell. A thousand times I have been on the point +of making this confession, and even had it not been brought about as it +has, I must have given way soon. No mortal could stand out long under +the pressure of remorse and regret that has been on me this past week. +Now, gentlemen, I have told you all. The action you may take in this +matter must be of your own choosing. But, except for the stigma of past +sin, I stand again before the world, with no unconfessed crime upon my +conscience. I stole the will; I have restored it. But my hands are clean +of the blood of my brother, and I am now free to add my efforts to yours +to find the criminal and avenge the crime.” + +He had not raised his voice above those low, even tones in which he had +started his recital; he had made no bid for leniency of judgment; but, +to a man, his three hearers rose and held out friendly hands to him as +he finished his story. + +“Thank you,” he said simply, as he accepted this mute token of our +belief in his word. “I am gratified at your kindly attitude, but I +realize, none the less, what this will all mean for me. Not only myself +but my innocent family must share my disgrace. However, that is part of +the wrongdoer's punishment--that results fall not only on his own head, +but on the heads and hearts of his loved ones.” + +“Mr. Goodrich,” said Mr. Randolph, “I don't know how you look upon this +matter from your official viewpoint, but unless you deem it necessary, I +should think that this confidence of Mr. Crawford's need never be given +to the public. May we not simply state that the missing will has been +found, without any further disclosures?” + +“I am not asking for any such consideration,” said Philip Crawford. +“If you decide upon such a course, it will be entirely of your own +volition.” + +The district attorney hesitated. + +“Speaking personally,” he said, at last, “I may say that I place +full credence in Mr. Crawford's story. I am entirely convinced of the +absolute truth of all his statements. But, speaking officially, I may +say that in a court of justice witnesses would be required, who could +corroborate his words.” + +“But such witnesses are manifestly impossible to procure,” said Mr. +Randolph. + +“Certainly they are,” I agreed, “and I should like to make this +suggestion: Believing, as we do, in Mr. Crawford's story, it becomes +important testimony in the case. Now, if it were made public, it would +lose its importance, for it would set ignorant tongues wagging, and +give rise to absurd and untrue theories, and result in blocking our +best-meant efforts. So I propose that we keep the matter to ourselves +for a time--say a week or a fortnight--keeping Mr. Crawford under +surveillance, if need be. Then we can work on the case, with the benefit +of the suggestions offered by Mr. Crawford's revelations; and I, for +one, think such benefit of immense importance.” + +“That will do,” said Mr. Goodrich, whose troubled face had cleared at my +suggestion. “You are quite right, Mr. Burroughs. And the `surveillance' +will be a mere empty formality. For a man who has confessed as Mr. +Crawford has done, is not going to run away from the consequences of his +confession.” + +“I am not,” said Mr. Crawford. “And I am grateful for this respite from +unpleasant publicity. I will take my punishment when it comes, but I +feel with Mr. Burroughs that more progress can be made if what I have +told you is not at once generally known.” + +“Where now does suspicion point?” + +It was Mr. Randolph who spoke. His legal mind had already gone ahead +of the present occasion, and was applying the new facts to the old +theories. + +“To Gregory Hall,” said the district attorney. + +“Wait,” said I. “If Mr. Crawford left the bag and the newspaper in the +office, we have no evidence whatever that Mr. Hall came out on that late +train.” + +“Nor did he need to,” said Mr. Goodrich, who was thinking rapidly. “He +might have come on an earlier train, or, for that matter, not by train +at all. He may have come out from town in a motor car.” + +This was possible; but it did not seem to me probable. A motor car was +a conspicuous way for a man to come out from New York and return, if he +wished to keep his visit secret. Still, he could have left the car at +some distance from the house, and walked the rest of the way. + +“Did Mr. Hall know that a revolver was kept in Mr. Crawford's desk +drawer?” I asked. + +“He did,” replied Philip Crawford. “He was present when I took my pistol +over to Joseph.” + +“Then,” said Mr. Goodrich, “the case looks to me very serious against +Mr. Hall. We have proved his motive, his opportunity, and his +method, or, rather, means, of committing the crime. Add to this +his unwillingness to tell where he was on Tuesday night, and I see +sufficient justification for issuing a warrant for his arrest.” + +“I don't know,” said Philip Crawford, “whether such immediate measures +are advisable. I don't want to influence you, Mr. Goodrich, but suppose +we see Mr. Hall, and question him a little. Then, if it seems to you +best, arrest him.” + +“That is a good suggestion, Mr. Crawford,” said the district attorney. +“We can have a sort of court of inquiry by ourselves, and perhaps Mr. +Hall will, by his own words, justify or relieve our suspicions.” + +I went away from Mr. Crawford's house, and went straight to Florence +Lloyd's. I did this almost involuntarily. Perhaps if I had stopped to +think, I might have realized that it did not devolve upon me to tell +her of Philip Crawford's confession. But I wanted to tell her myself, +because I hoped that from her manner of hearing the story I could learn +something. I still believed that in trying to shield Hall, she had not +yet been entirely frank with me, and at any rate, I wanted to be the one +to tell her of the important recent discovery. + +When I arrived, I found Mr. Porter in the library talking with Florence. +At first I hesitated about telling my story before him, and then +I remembered that he was one of the best of Florence's friends and +advisers, and moreover a man of sound judgment and great perspicacity. +Needless to say, they were both amazed and almost stunned by the +recital, and it was some time before they could take in the situation in +all its bearings. We had a long, grave conversation, for the three of +us were not influenced so much by the sensationalness of this new +development, as by the question of whither it led. Of course the +secret was as safe with these two, as with those of us who had heard it +directly from Philip Crawford's lips. + +“I understand Philip Crawford's action,” said Mr. Porter, very +seriously. “In the first place he was not quite himself, owing to the +sudden shock of seeing his brother dead before his eyes. Also the sight +of his own pistol, with which the deed had evidently been committed, +unnerved him. It was an almost unconscious nervous action which made him +take the pistol, and it was a sort of subconscious mental working that +resulted in his abstracting the will. Had he been in full possession +of his brain faculty, he could not have done either. He did wrong, of +course, but he has made full restitution, and his wrong-doing should not +only be forgiven but forgotten.” + +I looked at Mr. Porter in unfeigned admiration. Truly he had expressed +noble sentiments, and his must be a broadly noble nature that could show +such a spirit toward his fellow man. + +Florence, too, gave him an appreciative glance, but her mind seemed to +be working on the possibilities of the new evidence. + +“Then it would seem,” she said slowly, “that as I, myself, was in +Uncle's office at about eleven o'clock, and as Uncle Philip was there a +little after one o'clock, whoever killed Uncle Joseph came and went away +between those hours.” + +“Yes,” I said, and I knew that her thoughts had flown to Gregory Hall. +“But I think there are no trains in and out again of West Sedgwick +between those hours.” + +“He need not have come in a train,” said Florence slowly, as if simply +voicing her thoughts. + +“Don't attempt to solve the mystery, Florence,” said Mr. Porter in +his decided way. “Leave that for those who make it their business. +Mr. Burroughs, I am sure, will do all he can, and it is not for you +to trouble your already sad heart with these anxieties. Give it up, my +girl, for it means only useless exertion on your part.” + +“And on my part too, I fear, Mr. Porter,” I said. “Without wishing to +shirk my duty, I can't help feeling I'm up against a problem that to me +is insoluble. It is my desire, since the case is baffling, to call in +talent of a higher order. Fleming Stone, for instance.” + +Mr. Porter gave me a sudden glance, and it was a glance I could not +understand. For an instant it seemed to me that he showed fear, and +this thought was instantly followed by the impression that he feared for +Florence. And then I chid myself for my foolish heart that made every +thought that entered my brain lead to Florence Lloyd. With my mind in +this commotion I scarcely heard Mr. Porter's words. + +“No, no,” he was saying, “we need no other or cleverer detective than +you, Mr. Burroughs. If, as Florence says, the murderer was clever enough +to come between those two hours, and go away again, leaving no sign, he +is probably clever enough so to conceal his coming and going that he may +not be traced.” + +“But, Mr. Porter,” I observed, “they say murder will out.” + +Again that strange look came into his eyes. Surely it was an expression +of fear. But he only said, “Then you're the man to bring that result +about, Mr. Burroughs. I have great confidence in your powers as a +detective.” + +He took his leave, and I was not sorry, for I wanted an opportunity to +see Florence alone. + +“I am so sorry,” she said, and for the first time I saw tears in her +dear, beautiful eyes, “to hear that about Uncle Philip. But Mr. Porter +was right, he was not himself, or he never could have done it.” + +“It was an awful thing for him to find his brother as he did, and go +away and leave him so.” + +“Awful, indeed! But the Crawfords have always been strange in their +ways. I have never seen one of them show emotion or sentiment upon any +occasion.” + +“Now you are again an heiress,” I said, suddenly realizing the fact. + +“Yes,” she said, but her tone indicated that her fortune brought in its +train many perplexing troubles and many grave questions. + +“Forgive me,” I began, “if I am unwarrantably intrusive, but I must +say this. Affairs are so changed now, that new dangers and troubles may +arise for you. If I can help you in any way, will you let me do so? Will +you confide in me and trust me, and will you remember that in so doing +you are not putting yourself under the slightest obligation?” + +She looked at me very earnestly for a moment, and then without replying +directly to my questions, she said in a low tone, “You are the very best +friend I have ever had.” + +“Florence!” I cried; but even as she had spoken, she had gone softly out +of the room, and with a quiet joy in my heart, I went away. + +That afternoon I was summoned to Mr. Philip Crawford's house to be +present at the informal court of inquiry which was to interrogate +Gregory Hall. + +Hall was summoned by telephone, and not long after he arrived. He was +cool and collected, as usual, and I wondered if even his arrest would +disturb his calm. + +“We are pursuing the investigation of Mr. Joseph Crawford's death, Mr. +Hall,” the district attorney began, “and we wish, in the course of our +inquiries, to ask some questions of you.” + +“Certainly, sir,” said Gregory Hall, with an air of polite indifference. + +“And I may as well tell you at the outset,” went on Mr. Goodrich, a +little irritated at the young man's attitude, “that you, Mr. Hall, are +under suspicion.” + +“Yes?” said Hall interrogatively. “But I was not here that night.” + +“That's just the point, sir. You say you were not here, but you refuse +to say where you were. Now, wherever you may have been that night, a +frank admission of it will do you less harm than this incriminating +concealment of the truth.” + +“In that case,” said Hall easily, “I suppose I may as well tell you. +But first, since you practically accuse me, may I ask if any new +developments have been brought to light?” + +“One has,” said Mr. Goodrich. “The missing will has been found.” + +“What?” cried Hall, unable to conceal his satisfaction at this +information. + +“Yes,” said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at the plainly apparent +mercenary spirit of the man; “yes, the will of Mr. Joseph Crawford, +which bequeaths the bulk of his estate to Miss Lloyd, is safe in Mr. +Randolph's possession. But that fact in no way affects your connection +with the case, or our desire to learn where you were on Tuesday night.” + +“Pardon me, Mr. Goodrich; I didn't hear all that you said.” + +Bluffing again, thought I; and, truly, it seemed to me rather a clever +way to gain time for consideration, and yet let his answers appear +spontaneous. + +The district attorney repeated his question, and now Gregory Hall +answered deliberately, + +“I still refuse to tell you where I was. It in no way affects the case; +it is a private matter of my own. I was in New York City from the time +I left West Sedgwick at six o'clock on Monday, until I returned the next +morning. Further than that I will give no account of my doings.” + +“Then we must assume you were engaged in some occupation of which you +are ashamed to tell.” + +Hall shrugged his shoulders. “You may assume what you choose,” he said. +“I was not here, I had no hand in Mr. Crawford's death, and knew nothing +of it until my return next day.” + +“You knew Mr. Crawford kept a revolver in his desk. You must know it is +not there now.” + +Hall looked troubled. + +“I know nothing about that revolver,” he said. “I saw it the day Mr. +Philip Crawford brought it there, but I have never seen it since.” + +This sounded honest enough, but if he were the criminal, he would, of +course, make these same avowals. + +“Well, Mr. Hall,” said the district attorney, with an air of finality, +“we suspect you. We hold that you had motive, opportunity, and means for +this crime. Therefore, unless you can prove an alibi for Tuesday night, +and bring witnesses to prove where you, were, we must arrest you, on +suspicion, for the murder of Joseph Crawford.” + +Gregory Hall deliberated silently for a few moments, then he said: + +“I am innocent. But I persist in my refusal to allow intrusion on my +private and personal affairs. Arrest me if you will, but you will yet +learn your mistake.” + +I can never explain it, even to myself, but something in the man's tone +and manner convinced me, even against my own will, that he spoke the +truth. + + + + +XX. FLEMING STONE + + +The news of Gregory Hall's arrest flew through the town like wildfire. + +That evening I went to call on Florence Lloyd, though I had little hope +that she would see me. + +To my surprise, however, she welcomed me almost eagerly, and, though I +knew she wanted to see me only for what legal help I might give her, I +was glad even of this. + +And yet her manner was far from impersonal. Indeed, she showed a slight +embarrassment in my presence, which, if I had dared, I should have been +glad to think meant a growing interest in our friendship. + +“You have heard all?” I asked, knowing from her manner that she had. + +“Yes,” she replied; “Mr. Hall was here for dinner, and then--then he +went away to--” + +“To prison,” I finished quietly. “Florence, I cannot think he is the +murderer of your uncle.” + +If she noticed this, my first use of her Christian name, she offered no +remonstrance, and I went on, + +“To be sure, they have proved that he had motive, means, opportunity, +and all that, but it is only indefinite evidence. If he would but tell +where he was on Tuesday night, he could so easily free himself. Why will +he not tell?” + +“I don't know,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But I cannot think he was +here, either. When he said good-by to me to-night, he did not seem at +all apprehensive. He only said he was arrested wrongfully, and that +he would soon be set free again. You know his way of taking everything +casually.” + +“Yes, I do. And now that you are your uncle's heiress, I suppose he no +longer wishes to break the engagement between you and him.” + +I said this bitterly, for I loathed the nature that could thus turn +about in accordance with the wheel of fortune. + +To my surprise, she too spoke bitterly. + +“Yes,” she said; “he insists now that we are engaged, and that he never +really wanted to break it. He has shown me positively that it is my +money that attracts him, and if it were not that I don't want to seem to +desert him now, when he is in trouble--” + +She paused, and my heart beat rapidly. Could it be that at last she saw +Gregory Hall as he really was, and that his mercenary spirit had killed +her love for him? At least, she had intimated this, and, forcing myself +to be content with that for the present, I said: + +“Would you, then, if you could, get him out of this trouble?” + +“Gladly. I do not think he killed Uncle Joseph, but I'm sure I do not +know who did. Do you?” + +“I haven't the least idea,” I answered honestly, for there, in Florence +Lloyd's presence, gazing into the depths of her clear eyes, my last, +faint suspicion of her wrong-doing faded away. “And it is this total +lack of suspicion that makes the case so simple, and therefore so +difficult. A more complicated case offers some points on which to build +a theory. I do not blame Mr. Goodrich for suspecting Mr. Hall, for there +seems to be no one else to suspect.” + +Just then Mr. Lemuel Porter dropped in for an evening call. Of course, +we talked over the events of the day, and Mr. Porter was almost vehement +in his denunciation of the sudden move of the district attorney. + +“It's absurd,” he said, “utterly absurd. Gregory Hall never did the +thing. I've known Hall for years, and he isn't that sort of a man. I +believe Philip Crawford's story, of course, but the murderer, who came +into the office after Florence's visit to her uncle, and before Philip +arrived, was some stranger from out of town--some man whom none of us +know; who had some grievance against Joseph, and who deliberately came +and went during that midnight hour.” + +I agreed with Mr. Porter. I had thought all along it was some one +unknown to the Sedgwick people, but some one well known to Joseph +Crawford. For, had it been an ordinary burglar, the victim would at +least have raised a protecting hand. + +“Of course Hall will be set free at once,” continued Mr. Porter, “but to +arrest him was a foolish thing to do.” + +“Still, he ought to prove his alibi,” I said. + +“Very well, then; make him prove it. Give him the third degree, if +necessary, and find out where he was on Tuesday night.” + +“I doubt if they could get it out of him,” I observed, “if he continues +determined not to tell.” + +“Then he deserves his fate,” said Mr. Porter, a little petulantly. +“He can free himself by a word. If he refuses to do so it's his own +business.” + +“But I'd like to help him,” said Florence, almost timidly. “Is there no +way I can do so, Mr. Burroughs?” + +“Indeed there is,” I said. “You are a rich woman now; use some of your +wealth to employ the services of Fleming Stone, and I can assure you the +truth will be discovered.” + +“Indeed I will,” said Florence. “Please send for him at once.” + +“Nonsense!” said Mr. Porter. “It isn't necessary at all. Mr. Burroughs +here, and young Parmalee, are all the detectives we need. Get Hall to +free himself, as he can easily do, and then set to work in earnest to +run down the real villain.” + +“No, Mr. Porter,” said Florence, with firmness; “Gregory will not tell +his secret, whatever it is. I know his stubborn nature. He'll stay in +prison until he's freed, as he is sure he will be, but he won't tell +what he has determined not to divulge. No, I am glad I can do something +definite at last toward avenging Uncle Joseph's death. Please send for +Mr. Stone, Mr. Burroughs, and I will gladly pay his fees and expenses.” + Mr. Porter expostulated further, but to no avail. Florence insisted on +sending for the great detective. + +So I sent for him. + +He came two days later, and in the interval nothing further had been +learned from Gregory Hall. The man was an enigma to me. He was calm +and impassive as ever. Courteous, though never cordial, and apparently +without the least apprehension of ever being convicted for the crime +which had caused his arrest. + +Indeed, he acted just as an innocent man would act; innocent of the +murder, that is, but resolved to conceal his whereabouts of Tuesday +night, whatever that resolve might imply. + +To me, it did not imply crime. Something he wished to conceal, +certainly; but I could not think a criminal would act so. A criminal is +usually ready with an alibi, whether it can be proved or not. + +When Fleming Stone arrived I met him at the station and took him at once +to the inn, where I had engaged rooms for him. + +We first had a long conversation alone, in which I told him, everything +I knew concerning the murder. + +“When did it happen?” he asked, for, though he had read some of the +newspaper accounts, the date had escaped him. + +I told him, and added, “Why, I was called here just after I left you at +the Metropolis Hotel that morning. Don't you remember, you deduced a lot +of information from a pair of shoes which were waiting to be cleaned?” + +“Yes, I remember,” said Stone, smiling a little at the recollection. + +“And I tried to make similar deductions from the gold bag and the +newspaper, but I couldn't do it. I bungled matters every time. My +deductions are mostly from the witnesses' looks or tones when giving +evidence.” + +“On the stand?” + +“Not necessarily on the stand. I've learned much from talking to the +principals informally.” + +“And where do your suspicions point?” + +“Nowhere. I've suspected Florence Lloyd and Gregory Hall, in turn, and +in collusion; but now I suspect neither of them.” + +“Why not Hall?” + +“His manner is too frank and unconcerned.” + +“A good bluff for a criminal to use.” + +“Then he won't tell where he was that night.” + +“If he is the murderer, he can't tell. A false alibi is so easily +riddled. It's rather clever to keep doggedly silent; but what does he +say is his reason?” + +“He won't give any reason. He has determined to keep up that calm, +indifferent pose, and though it is aggravating, I must admit it serves +his purpose well.” + +“How did they find him the morning after the murder?” + +“Let me see; I believe the coroner said he telephoned first to Hall's +club. But the steward said Hall didn't stay there, as there was no +vacant room, and that he had stayed all night at a hotel.” + +“What hotel?” + +“I don't know. The coroner asked the steward, but he didn't know.” + +“Didn't he find out from Hall, afterward?” + +“I don't know, Stone; perhaps the coroner asked him, but if he did, I +doubt if Hall told. It didn't seem to me important.” + +“Burroughs, my son, you should have learned every detail of Hall's +doings that night.” + +“But if he were not in West Sedgwick, what difference could it possibly +make where he was?” + +“One never knows what difference anything will make until the difference +is made. That's oracular, but it means more than it sounds. However, go +on.” + +I went on, and I even told him what Florence had told me concerning the +possibility of Hall's interest in another woman. + +“At last we are getting to it,” said Stone; “why in the name of all good +detectives, didn't you hunt up that other woman?” + +“But she is perhaps only a figment of Miss Lloyd's brain.” + +“Figments of the brains of engaged young ladies are apt to have a solid +foundation of flesh and blood. I think much could be learned concerning +Mr. Hall's straying fancy. But tell me again about his attitude toward +Miss Lloyd, in the successive developments of the will question.” + +Fleming Stone was deeply interested as I rehearsed how, when Florence +was supposed to be penniless, he wished to break the engagement. When +Philip Crawford offered to provide for her, Mr. Hall was uncertain; +but when the will was found, and Florence was known to inherit all her +uncle's property, then Gregory Hall not only held her to the engagement, +but said he had never wished to break it. + +“H'm,” said Stone. “Pretty clear that the young man is a +fortune-hunter.” + +“He is,” I agreed. “I felt sure of that from the first.” + +“And he is now under arrest, calmly waiting for some one to prove his +innocence, so he can marry the heiress.” + +“That's about the size of it,” I said. “But I don't think Florence is +quite as much in love with him as she was. She seems to have realized +his mercenary spirit.” + +Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or manner disclosed to this astute +man the state of my own affections, for he gave me a quizzical glance, +and said, “O-ho! sits the wind in that quarter?” + +“Yes,” I said, determined to be frank with him. “It does. I want you, to +free Gregory Hall, if he's innocent. Then if, for any reason, Miss +Lloyd sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most certainly try to win her +affections. As I came to this determination when she was supposed to be +penniless, I can scarcely be accused of fortune-hunting myself.” + +“Indeed, you can't, old chap. You're not that sort. Well, let's go to +see your district attorney and his precious prisoner, and see what's to +be done.” + +We went to the district attorney's office, and, later, accompanied by +him and by Mr. Randolph, we visited Gregory Hall. + +As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same unperturbed manner he always +showed, and when Fleming Stone was introduced, Hall greeted him coldly, +with absolutely no show of interest in the man or his work. + +Fleming Stone's own kindly face took on a slight expression of hauteur, +as he noticed his reception, but he said, pleasantly enough, + +“I am here in an effort to aid in establishing your innocence, Mr. +Hall.” + +“I beg your pardon?” said Hall listlessly. + +I wondered whether this asking to have a remark repeated was merely a +foolish habit of Hall's, or whether, as I had heretofore guessed, it was +a ruse to gain time. + +Fleming Stone looked at him a little more sharply as he repeated his +remark in clear, even tones. + +“Thank you,” said Hall, pleasantly enough. “I shall be glad to be free +from this unjust suspicion.” + +“And as a bit of friendly advice,” went on Stone, “I strongly urge that +you, reveal to us, confidentially, where you were on Tuesday night.” + +Hall looked the speaker straight in the eye. + +“That,” he said, “I must still refuse to do.” + +Fleming Stone rose and walked toward the window. + +“I think,” he said, “the proof of your innocence may depend upon this +point.” + +Gregory Hall turned his head, and followed Stone with his eyes. + +“What did you say, Mr. Stone?” he asked quietly. + +The detective returned to his seat. + +“I said,” he replied, “that the proof of your innocence might depend on +your telling this secret of yours. But I begin to think now you will be +freed from suspicion whether you tell it or not.” + +Instead of looking glad at this assurance, Gregory Hall gave a start, +and an expression of fear came into his eyes. + +“What do you mean?” he said, + +“Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. Hall?” went on Fleming Stone +in a suave voice. + +“Yes; several. Why?” + +“I do not ask to read them. Merely show me the lot.” + +With what seemed to be an unwilling but enforced movement, Mr. Hall drew +four or five letters from his breast pocket and handed them to Fleming +Stone. + +“They've all been looked over, Mr. Stone,” said the district attorney; +“and they have no bearing on the matter of the crime.” + +“Oh, I don't want to read them,” said the detective. + +He ran over the lot carelessly, not taking the sheets from the +envelopes, and returned them to their owner. + +Gregory Hall looked at him as if fascinated. What revelation was this +man about to make? + +“Mr. Hall,” Fleming Stone began, “I've no intention of forcing your +secret from you. But I shall ask you some questions, and you may do as +you like about answering them. First, you refuse to tell where you were +during the night last Tuesday. I take it, you mean you refuse to tell +how or where you spent the evening. Now, will you tell us where you +lodged that night?” + +“I fail to see any reason for telling you,” answered Hall, after a +moment's thought. “I have said I was in New York City, that is enough.” + +“The reason you may as well tell us,” went on Mr. Stone, “is because it +is a very simple matter for us to find out. You doubtless were at some +hotel, and you went there because you could not get a room at your +club. In fact, this was stated when the coroner telephoned for you, the +morning after the murder. I mean, it was stated that the club bed-rooms +were all occupied. I assume, therefore, that you lodged at some hotel, +and, as a canvass of the city hotels would be a simple matter, you may +as well save us that trouble.” + +“Oh, very well,” said Gregory Hall sullenly; “then I did spend the night +at a hotel. It was the Metropolis Hotel, and you will find my name duly +on the register.” + +“I have no doubt of it,” said Stone pleasantly. “Now that you have told +us this, have you any objection to telling us at what time you returned +to the hotel, after your evening's occupation, whatever it may have +been?” + +“Eh?” said Hall abstractedly. He turned his head as he spoke, and +Fleming Stone threw me a quizzical smile which I didn't in the least +understand. + +“You may as well tell us,” said Stone, after he had repeated his +question, “for if you withhold it, the night clerk can give us this +information.” + +“Well,” said Hall, who now looked distinctly sulky, “I don't remember +exactly, but I think I turned in somewhere between twelve and one +o'clock.” + +“And as it was a late hour, you slept rather late next morning,” + suggested Stone. + +“Oh, I don't know. I was at Mr. Crawford's New York office by half-past +ten.” + +“A strange coincidence, Burroughs,” said Fleming Stone, turning to me. + +“Eh? Beg pardon?” said Hall, turning his head also. + +“Mr. Hall,” said Stone, suddenly facing him again, “are you deaf? Why do +you ask to have remarks repeated?” + +Hall looked slightly apologetic. “I am a little deaf,” he said; “but +only in one ear. And only at times--or, rather, it's worse at times. If +I have a cold, for instance.” + +“Or in damp weather?” said Stone. “Mr. Hall, I have questioned you +enough. I will now tell these gentlemen, since you refuse to do so, +where you were on the night of Mr. Crawford's murder. You were not in +West Sedgwick, or near it. You are absolutely innocent of the crime or +any part in it.” + +Gregory Hall straightened up perceptibly, like a man exonerated from all +blame. But he quailed again, as Fleming Stone, looking straight at him, +continued: “You left West Sedgwick at six that evening, as you have +said. You registered at the Metropolis Hotel, after learning that you +could not get a room at your club. And then--you went over to Brooklyn +to meet, or to call on, a young woman living in that borough. You took +her back to New York to the theatre or some such entertainment, and +afterward escorted her back to her home. The young woman wore a street +costume, by which I mean a cloth gown without a train. You did not have +a cab, but, after leaving the car, you walked for a rather long distance +in Brooklyn. It was raining, and you were both under one umbrella. Am I +correct, so far?” + +At last Gregory Hall's calm was disturbed. He looked at Fleming Stone +as at a supernatural being. And small wonder. For the truth of Stone's +statements was evident from Hall's amazement at them. + +“You--you saw us!” he gasped. + +“No, I didn't see you; it is merely a matter of observation, deduction, +and memory. You recollect the muddy shoes?” he added, turning to me. + +Did I recollect! Well, rather! And it certainly was a coincidence that +we had chanced to examine those shoes that morning at the hotel. + +As for Mr. Randolph and the district attorney, they were quite as much +surprised as Hall. + +“Can you prove this astonishing story, Mr. Stone?” asked Mr. Goodrich, +with an incredulous look. + +“Oh, yes, in lots of ways,” returned Stone. “For one thing, Mr. Hall has +in his pocket now a letter from the young lady. The whole matter is +of no great importance except as it proves Mr. Hall was not in West +Sedgwick that night, and so is not the murderer.” + +“But why conceal so simple a matter? Why refuse to tell of the episode?” + asked Mr. Randolph. + +“Because,” and now Fleming Stone looked at Hall with accusation in his +glance--“because Mr. Hall is very anxious that his fiancee shall not +know of his attentions to the young lady in Brooklyn.” + +“O-ho!” said Mr. Goodrich, with sudden enlightenment. “I see it all now. +Is it the truth, Mr. Hall? Did you go to Brooklyn and back that night, +as Mr. Stone has described?” + +Gregory Hall fidgeted in an embarrassed way. But, unable to escape the +piercing gaze of Stone's eyes, he admitted grudgingly that the detective +had told the truth, adding, “But it's wizardry, that's what it is! How +could he know?” + +“I had reason for suspicion,” said Stone; “and when I found you were +deaf in your right ear, and that you had in your pocket a letter +addressed in a feminine hand, and postmarked `Brooklyn,' I was sure.” + +“It's all true,” said Hall slowly. “You have the facts all right. But, +unless you have had me shadowed, will you tell me how you knew it all?” + +And then Fleming Stone told of his observations and deductions when we +noticed the muddied shoes at the Metropolis Hotel that morning. + +“But,” he said, as he concluded, “when I hastily adjudged the young +lady to be deaf in the left ear, I see now I was mistaken. As soon as +I realized Mr. Hall himself is deaf in the right ear, especially so in +damp or wet weather, I saw that it fitted the case as well as if the +lady had been deaf in her left ear. Then a note in his pocket from a +lady in Brooklyn made me quite sure I was right.” + +“But, Mr. Stone,” said Lawyer Randolph, “it is very astonishing that you +should make those deductions from those shoes, and then come out here +and meet the owner of the shoes.” + +“It seems more remarkable than it really is, Mr. Randolph,” was the +response; “for I am continually observing whatever comes to my notice. +Hundreds of my deductions are never verified, or even thought of again; +so it is not so strange that now and then one should prove of use in my +work.” + +“Well,” said the district attorney, “it seems wonderful to me. But now +that Mr. Hall has proved his alibi, or, rather, Mr. Stone has proved it +for him, we must begin anew our search for the real criminal.” + +“One moment,” said Gregory Hall. “As you know, gentlemen, I endeavored +to keep this little matter of my going to Brooklyn a secret. As it has +no possible bearing on the case of Mr. Crawford, may I ask of you to +respect my desire that you say nothing about it?” + +“For my part,” said the district attorney, “I am quite willing to +grant Mr. Hall's request. I have put him to unnecessary trouble and +embarrassment by having him arrested, and I shall be glad to do him this +favor that he asks, by way of amends.” + +But Mr. Randolph seemed reluctant to make the required promise, and +Fleming Stone looked at Hall, and said nothing. + +Then I spoke out, and, perhaps with scant courtesy, I said: + +“I, for one, refuse to keep this revelation a secret. It was discovered +by the detective engaged by Miss Lloyd. Therefore, I think Miss Lloyd is +entitled to the knowledge we have thus gained.” + +Mr. Randolph looked at me with approval. He was a good friend of +Florence Lloyd, and he was of no mind to hide from her something which +it might be better for her to know. + +Gregory Hall set his lips together in a way which argued no pleasant +feelings toward me, but he said nothing then. He was forthwith released +from custody, and the rest of us separated; having arranged to meet that +evening at Miss Lloyd's home to discuss matters. + + + + +XXI. THE DISCLOSURE + + +Except the half-hour required for a hasty dinner, Fleming Stone devoted +the intervening time to looking over the reports of the coroner's +inquest, and in asking me questions about all the people who were +connected with the affair. + +“Burroughs,” he said at last, “every one who is interested in Joseph +Crawford's death has suspected Gregory Hall, except one person. Not +everybody said they suspected him, but they did, all the same. Even Miss +Lloyd wasn't sure that Hall wasn't the criminal. Now, there's just +one person who declares that Hall did not do it, and that he is not +implicated. Why should this person feel so sure of Hall's innocence? +And, furthermore, my boy, here are a few more important questions. In +which drawer of the desk was the revolver kept?” + +“The upper right-hand drawer,” I replied. + +“I mean, what else was in that drawer?” + +“Oh, important, valuable memoranda of Mr. Crawford's stocks and bonds.” + +“Do you mean stock certificates and actual bonds?” + +“No; merely lists and certain data referring to them. The certificates +themselves were in the bank.” + +“And the will--where had that been kept?” + +“In a drawer on the other side of the desk. I know all these things, +because with the lawyer and Mr. Philip Crawford, I have been through all +the papers of the estate.” + +“Well, then, Burroughs, let us build up the scene. Mr. Joseph Crawford, +after returning from his lawyer's that night, goes to his office. +Naturally, he takes out his will, that he thinks of changing, and--we'll +say--it is lying on his desk when Mr. Lemuel Porter calls. He talks of +other matters, and the will still lies there unheeded. It is there when +Miss Lloyd comes down later. She has said so. It remains there until +much later--when Philip Crawford comes, and, after discovering that his +brother is dead, sees the will still on the desk and takes it away with +him, and also sees the pistol on the desk, and takes that, too. Now, +granting that the murderer came between the time Miss Lloyd left the +office and the time Philip Crawford came there, then it was while the +murderer was present that the drawer which held the pistol was opened, +the pistol taken out, and the murder committed, Since Mr. Joseph +Crawford showed no sign of fear of violence, the murderer must have +been, not a burglar or an unwelcome intruder, but a friend, or an +acquaintance, at least. His visit must have been the reason for opening +that drawer, and that not to get the pistol, but to look at or discuss +the papers contained in that drawer. The pistol, thus disclosed, was +temptingly near the hand of the visitor, and, for some reason +connected with the papers in that drawer, the pistol was used by the +visitor--suddenly, unpremeditatedly, but with deadly intent at the +moment.” + +“But who--” I began. + +“Hush,” he said, “I see it all now--or almost all. Let us go to Philip +Crawford's at once--before it is time to go to Miss Lloyd's.” + +We did so, and Fleming Stone, in a short business talk with Mr. +Crawford, learned all that he wanted to know. Then we three went over to +Florence Lloyd's home. + +Awaiting us were several people. The district attorney, of course, and +Lawyer Randolph. Also Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who had been asked +to be present. Gregory Hall was there, too, and from his crestfallen +expression, I couldn't help thinking that he had had an unsatisfactory +interview with Florence. + +As we all sat round the library, Fleming Stone was the principal +speaker. + +He said: “I have come here at Miss Lloyd's request, to discover, if +possible, the murderer of her uncle, Mr. Joseph Crawford. I have learned +the identity of the assassin, and, if you all wish me to, I will now +divulge it.” + +“We do wish you to, Mr. Stone,” said Mr. Goodrich, and his voice +trembled a little, for he knew not where the blow might fall. But after +Fleming Stone's wonderful detective work in the case of Gregory Hall, +the district attorney felt full confidence in his powers. + +Sitting quietly by the library table, with the eyes of all the company +upon him, Fleming Stone said, in effect, to them just what he had said +to me. He told of the revolver in the drawer with the financial papers. +He told how the midnight visitor must have been some friend or neighbor, +whose coming would in no way startle or alarm Mr. Crawford, and whose +interest in the question of stocks was desperate. + +And then Fleming Stone turned suddenly to Lemuel Porter, and said: +“Shall I go on, Mr. Porter, or will you confess here and now?” + +It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen. Hitherto unsuspected, the guilt +of Lemuel Porter was now apparent beyond all doubt. White-faced and +shaking, his burning eyes glared at Fleming Stone. + +“What are you?” he whispered, in hoarse, hissing tones. “I feared you, +and I was right to fear you. I have heard of you before. I tried to +prevent your coming here, but I could not. And I knew, when you came, +that I was doomed--doomed! + +“Yes,” he went on, looking around at the startled faces. “Yes, I killed +Joseph Crawford. If I had not, he would have ruined me financially. +Randolph knows that--and Philip Crawford, too. I had no thought of +murder in my heart. I came here late that night to renew the request I +had made in my earlier visit that evening--that Joseph Crawford +would unload his X.Y. stock gradually, and in that way save me. I had +overtraded; I had pyramided my paper profits until my affairs were +in such a state that a sudden drop of ten points would wipe me out +entirely. But Joseph Crawford was adamant to my entreaties. He said he +would see to it that at the opening of the market the next morning X.Y. +stock should be hammered down out of sight. Details are unnecessary. You +lawyers and financial men understand. It was in his power to ruin or to +save me and he chose to ruin me. I know, why, but that concerns no one +here. Then, as by chance, he moved a paper in the drawer, and I saw the +pistol. In a moment of blind rage I grasped it and shot him. Death was +instantaneous. Like one in a dream, I laid down the pistol, and came +away. I was saved, but at what a cost! No one, I think, saw me come or +go. I was afterward puzzled to know what became of the pistol, and of +the will which lay on the desk when I was there. These matters have +since been explained. Philip Crawford is as much a criminal as I. I shot +a man, but he robbed the dead. He has confessed and made restitution, so +he merits no punishment. In the nature of things, I cannot do that, but +I can at least cheat the gallows.” + +With these words, Mr. Porter put something into his mouth and swallowed +it. + +Several people started toward him in dismay, but he waved them back, +saying: + +“Too late. Good-by, all. If possible, do not let my wife know the truth. +Can't you tell her--I died of heart failure--or--something like that?” + +The poison he had taken was of quick effect. Though a doctor was +telephoned for at once, Mr. Porter was dead before he came. + +Everything was now made clear, and Fleming Stone's work in West Sedgwick +was done. + +I was chagrined, for I felt that all he had discovered, I ought to have +found out for myself. + +But as I glanced at Florence, and saw her lovely eyes fixed on me, +I knew that one reason I had failed in my work was because of her +distracting influence on it. + +“Take me away from here,” she said, and I gently led her from the +library. + +We went into the small drawing-room, and, unable to restrain my +eagerness, I said, + +“Tell me, dear, have you broken with Hall?” + +“Yes,” she said, looking up shyly into my face. “I learned from his own +lips the story of the Brooklyn girl. Then I knew that he really loves +her, but wanted to marry me for my fortune. This knowledge was enough +for me. I realize now that I never loved Gregory, and I have told him +so.” + +“And you do love somebody else?” I whispered ecstatically. “Oh, +Florence! I know this is not the time or the place, but just tell me, +dear, if you ever love any one, it will be--” + +“You” she murmured softly, and I was content. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bag, by Carolyn Wells + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAG *** + +***** This file should be named 2883-0.txt or 2883-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/8/2883/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/2883-0.zip b/2883-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0d69fdb --- /dev/null +++ b/2883-0.zip diff --git a/2883-h.zip b/2883-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..b401a3c --- /dev/null +++ b/2883-h.zip diff --git a/2883-h/2883-h.htm b/2883-h/2883-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..df28b98 --- /dev/null +++ b/2883-h/2883-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,10806 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + The Gold Bag, by Carolyn Wells + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bag, by Carolyn Wells + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Gold Bag + +Author: Carolyn Wells + +Release Date: December 14, 2008 [EBook #2883] +Last Updated: March 16, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAG *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + THE GOLD BAG + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Carolyn Wells + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>THE GOLD BAG</b> </a><br /><br /><br /> + <a href="#link2H_4_0002"> I. </a> THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> II. </a> THE CRAWFORD + HOUSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> III. </a> THE + CORONER'S JURY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> IV. </a> THE + INQUEST <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> V. </a> FLORENCE + LLOYD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> VI. </a> THE GOLD + BAG <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> VII. </a> YELLOW + ROSES <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> VIII. </a> FURTHER + INQUIRY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> IX. </a> THE + TWELFTH ROSE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> X. </a> THE + WILL <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> XI. </a> LOUIS'S + STORY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> XII. </a> LOUIS'S + CONFESSION <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0014"> XIII. </a> MISS + LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0015"> XIV. </a> MR. + PORTER'S VIEWS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> XV. </a> THE + PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0017"> XVI. </a> A + CALL ON MRS. PURVIS <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0018"> XVII. </a> THE + OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0019"> XVIII. </a> IN + Mr. GOODRICH'S OFFICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0020"> XIX. </a> THE + MIDNIGHT TRAIN <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0021"> XX. </a> FLEMING + STONE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0022"> XXI. </a> THE + DISCLOSURE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + THE GOLD BAG + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0002" id="link2H_4_0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + I. THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK + </h2> + <p> + Though a young detective, I am not entirely an inexperienced one, and I + have several fairly successful investigations to my credit on the records + of the Central Office. + </p> + <p> + The Chief said to me one day: “Burroughs, if there's a mystery to be + unravelled; I'd rather put it in your hands than to trust it to any other + man on the force. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” he went on, “you go about it scientifically, and you never jump + at conclusions, or accept them, until they're indubitably warranted.” + </p> + <p> + I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief's kind words, but I was + secretly a bit chagrined. A detective's ambition is to be, considered + capable of jumping at conclusions, only the conclusions must always prove + to be correct ones. + </p> + <p> + But though I am an earnest and painstaking worker, though my habits are + methodical and systematic, and though I am indefatigably patient and + persevering, I can never make those brilliant deductions from seemingly + unimportant clues that Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothing but + observation and logical inference, but to me it is little short of + clairvoyance. + </p> + <p> + The smallest detail in the way of evidence immediately connotes in his + mind some important fact that is indisputable, but which would never have + occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a natural bent of his brain, for + I have not yet been able to achieve it, either by study or experience. + </p> + <p> + Of course I can deduce some facts, and my colleagues often say I am rather + clever at it, but they don't know Fleming Stone as well as I do, and don't + realize that by comparison with his talent mine is insignificant. + </p> + <p> + And so, it is both by way of entertainment, and in hope of learning from + him, that I am with him whenever possible, and often ask him to “deduce” + for me, even at risk of boring him, as, unless he is in the right mood, my + requests sometimes do. + </p> + <p> + I met him accidentally one morning when we both chanced to go into a + basement of the Metropolis Hotel in New York to have our shoes shined. + </p> + <p> + It was about half-past nine, and as I like to get to my office by ten + o'clock, I looked forward to a pleasant half-hour's chat with him. While + waiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, and, seeing a pair of + shoes standing on a table, evidently there to be cleaned, I said + banteringly: + </p> + <p> + “Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those shoes, you can deduce all + there is to know about the owner of them.” + </p> + <p> + I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, “From a drop of water, a + logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a Niagara without + having seen or heard of one or the other,” but when I heard Fleming + Stone's reply to my half-laughing challenge, I felt that he had outdone + the mythical logician. With a mild twinkle in his eye, but with a + perfectly grave face, he said slowly, + </p> + <p> + “Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet eight inches high. He does + not live in New York, but is here to visit his sweetheart. She lives in + Brooklyn, is five feet nine inches tall, and is deaf in her left ear. They + went to the theatre last night, and neither was in evening dress.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw!” said I, “as you are acquainted with this man, and know how he + spent last evening, your relation of the story doesn't interest me.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know him,” Stone returned; “I've no idea what his name is, I've + never seen him, and except what I can read from these shoes I know nothing + about him.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at him incredulously, as I always did when confronted by his + astonishing “deductions,” and simply said, + </p> + <p> + “Tell this little Missourian all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “It did sound well, reeled off like that, didn't it?” he observed, + chuckling more at my air of eager curiosity than at his own achievement. + “But it's absurdly easy, after all. He is a young man because his shoes + are in the very latest, extreme, not exclusive style. He is five feet + eight, because the size of his foot goes with that height of man, which, + by the way, is the height of nine out of ten men, any way. He doesn't live + in New York or he wouldn't be stopping at a hotel. Besides, he would be + down-town at this hour, attending to business.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless he has freak business hours, as you and I do,” I put in. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that might be. But I still hold that he doesn't live in New York, or + he couldn't be staying at this Broadway hotel overnight, and sending his + shoes down to be shined at half-past nine in the morning. His sweetheart + is five feet nine, for that is the height of a tall girl. I know she is + tall, for she wears a long skirt. Short girls wear short skirts, which + make them look shorter still, and tall girls wear very long skirts, which + make them look taller.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do they do that?” I inquired, greatly interested. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. You'll have to ask that of some one wiser than I. But I + know it's a fact. A girl wouldn't be considered really tall if less than + five feet nine. So I know that's her height. She is his sweetheart, for no + man would go from New York to Brooklyn and bring a lady over here to the + theatre, and then take her home, and return to New York in the early hours + of the morning, if he were not in love with her. I know she lives in + Brooklyn, for the paper says there was a heavy shower there last night, + while I know no rain fell in New York. I know that they were out in that + rain, for her long skirt became muddy, and in turn muddied the whole upper + of his left shoe. The fact that only the left shoe is so soiled proves + that he walked only at her right side, showing that she must be deaf in + her left ear, or he would have walked part of the time on that side. I + know that they went to the theatre in New York, because he is still + sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots down to be cleaned, instead + of coming down with them on his feet to be shined here. If he had been + merely calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would have been home early, for + they do not sit up late in that borough. I know they went to the theatre, + instead of to the opera or a ball, for they did not go in a cab, otherwise + her skirt would not have become muddied. This, too, shows that she wore a + cloth skirt, and as his shoes are not patent leathers, it is clear that + neither was in evening dress.” + </p> + <p> + I didn't try to get a verification of Fleming Stone's assertions; I didn't + want any. Scores of times I had known him to make similar deductions and + in cases where we afterward learned the facts, he was invariably correct. + So, though we didn't follow up this matter, I was sure he was right, and, + even if he hadn't been, it would not have weighed heavily against his + large proportion of proved successes. + </p> + <p> + We separated then, as we took chairs at some distance from each other, + and, with a sigh of regret that I could never hope to go far along the + line in which Stone showed such proficiency, I began to read my morning + paper. + </p> + <p> + Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nodding a good-by as he passed + me, and a moment after, my own foot-gear being in proper condition, I, + too, went out, and went straight to my office. + </p> + <p> + As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt on Stone's quick-witted + work. Again I wished that I possessed the kind of intelligence that makes + that sort of thing so easy. Although unusual, it is, after all, a trait of + many minds, though often, perhaps, unrecognized and undeveloped by its + owner. I dare say it lies dormant in men who have never had occasion to + realize its value. Indeed, it is of no continuous value to anyone but a + detective, and nine detectives out of ten do not possess it. + </p> + <p> + So I walked along, envying my friend Stone his gift, and reached my office + just at ten o'clock as was my almost invariable habit. + </p> + <p> + “Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!” cried my office-boy, as I opened the door. + “You're wanted on the telephone.” + </p> + <p> + Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, some excitement had made him a + trifle unceremonious, and I looked at him curiously as I took up the + receiver. + </p> + <p> + But with the first words I heard, the office-boy was forgotten, and my own + nerves received a shock as I listened to the message. It was from the + Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and the superintendent + himself was directing me to go at once to West Sedgwick, where a terrible + crime had just been discovered. + </p> + <p> + “Killed!” I exclaimed; “Joseph Crawford?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner telephoned to + send a detective at once and we want you to go.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'll go. Do you know any more details?” + </p> + <p> + “No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found this + morning. Mr. Crawford was a big man, you know. Go right off, Mr. + Burroughs; we want you to lose no time.” + </p> + <p> + Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I knew he + was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death would mean + excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or home-life, I knew + nothing. + </p> + <p> + “I'll go right off,” I assured the Chief, and turned away from the + telephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up trains in a + timetable. + </p> + <p> + “Good boy, Don,” said I approvingly; “what's the next train to West + Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?” + </p> + <p> + “You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in a taxi + an' shoot the tunnel,” said Donovan, who was rather a graphic + conversationalist. “That'll spill you out at West Sedgwick 'bout quarter + of 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?” + </p> + <p> + “So they tell me, Don. His death will mean something in financial + circles.” + </p> + <p> + “Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. Burruz. When'll + you be back?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know, Don. You look after things.” + </p> + <p> + “Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders when you have + 'em.” + </p> + <p> + By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he had + suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed the Chief's + orders to lose no time. + </p> + <p> + Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could possibly + be to reach the scene of the crime before significant clues were + obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I had had experience + with the police of suburban towns, and I well knew their two principal + types. Either they were of a pompous, dignified demeanor, which covered a + bewildered ignorance, or else they were overzealous and worked with a + misdirected energy that made serious trouble for an intelligent detective. + Of course, of the two kinds I preferred the former, but the danger was + that I should encounter both. + </p> + <p> + On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, by + endeavoring to “deduce” the station or occupation of my fellow passengers. + </p> + <p> + Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mild-faced gentleman, and from the + general, appearance of his head and hat I concluded he was a clergyman. I + studied him unostentatiously and tried to find some indication of the + denomination he might belong to, or the character of his congregation, but + as I watched, I saw him draw a sporting paper from his pocket, and turning + his hand, a hitherto unseen diamond flashed brilliantly from his little + finger. I hastily, revised my judgment, and turning slightly observed the + man who sat next me. Determined to draw only logical inferences, I + scrutinized his coat, that garment being usually highly suggestive to our + best regulated detectives. I noticed that while the left sleeve was unworn + and in good condition, the right sleeve was frayed at the inside edge, and + excessively smooth and shiny on the inner forearm. Also the top button of + the coat was very much worn, and the next one slightly. + </p> + <p> + “A-ha!” said I to myself, “I've nailed you, my friend. You're a + desk-clerk, and you write all day long, standing at a desk. The worn top + button rubs against your desk as you stand, which it would not do were you + seated.” + </p> + <p> + With a pardonable curiosity to learn if I were right, I opened + conversation with the young man. He was not unwilling to respond, and + after a few questions I learned, to my chagrin, that he was a + photographer. Alas for my deductions! But surely, Fleming Stone himself + would not have guessed a photographer from a worn and shiny coat-sleeve. + At the risk of being rudely personal, I made some reference to fashions in + coats. The young man smiled and remarked incidentally, that owing to + certain circumstances he was at the moment wearing his brother's coat. + </p> + <p> + “And is your brother a desk clerk?” inquired I almost involuntarily: + </p> + <p> + He gave me a surprised glance, but answered courteously enough, “Yes;” and + the conversation flagged. + </p> + <p> + Exultantly I thought that my deduction, though rather an obvious one, was + right; but after another furtive glance at the young man, I realized that + Stone would have known he was wearing another's coat, for it was the most + glaring misfit in every way. + </p> + <p> + Once more I tried, and directed my attention to a middle-aged, + angular-looking woman, whose strong, sharp-featured face betokened a prim + spinster, probably at the head of a girls' school, or engaged in some + clerical work. However, as I passed her on my way to leave the train I + noticed a wedding-ring on her hand, and heard her say to her companion, + “No; I think a woman's sphere is in her own kitchen and nursery. How could + I think otherwise, with my six children to bring up?” After these + lamentable failures, I determined not to trust much to deduction in the + case I was about to investigate, but to learn actual facts from actual + evidence. + </p> + <p> + I reached West Sedgwick, as Donovan had said, at quarter before eleven. + Though I had never been there before, the place looked quite as I had + imagined it. The railway station was one of those modern attractive + structures of rough gray stone, with picturesque projecting roof and + broad, clean platforms. A flight of stone steps led down to the roadway, + and the landscape in every direction showed the well-kept roads, the + well-grown trees and the carefully-tended estates of a town of suburban + homes. The citizens were doubtless mainly men whose business was in New + York, but who preferred not to live there. + </p> + <p> + The superintendent must have apprised the coroner by telephone of my + immediate arrival, for a village cart from the Crawford establishment was + awaiting me, and a smart groom approached and asked if I were Mr. Herbert + Burroughs. + </p> + <p> + A little disappointed at having no more desirable companion on my way to + the house, I climbed up beside the driver, and the groom solemnly took his + place behind. Not curiosity, but a justifiable desire to learn the main + facts of the case as soon as possible, led me to question the man beside + me. + </p> + <p> + I glanced at him first and saw only the usual blank countenance of the + well-trained coachman. + </p> + <p> + His face was intelligent, and his eyes alert, but his impassive expression + showed his habit of controlling any indication of interest in people or + things. + </p> + <p> + I felt there would be difficulty in ingratiating myself at all, but I felt + sure that subterfuge would not help me, so I spoke directly. + </p> + <p> + “You are the coachman of the late Mr. Crawford?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + I hadn't really expected more than this in words, but his tone was so + decidedly uninviting of further conversation that I almost concluded to + say nothing more. But the drive promised to be a fairly long one, so I + made another effort. + </p> + <p> + “As the detective on this case, I wish to hear the story of it as soon as + I can. Perhaps you can give me a brief outline of what happened.” + </p> + <p> + It was perhaps my straightforward manner, and my quite apparent assumption + of his intelligence, that made the man relax a little and reply in a more + conversational tone. + </p> + <p> + “We're forbidden to chatter, sir,” he said, “but, bein' as you're the + detective, I s'pose there's no harm. But it's little we know, after all. + The master was well and sound last evenin', and this mornin' he was found + dead in his own office-chair.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean a private office in his home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. Mr. Crawford went to his office in New York 'most every day, + but days when he didn't go, and evenin's and Sundays, he was much in his + office at home, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Who discovered the tragedy?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't rightly know, sir, if it was Louis, his valet, or Lambert, the + butler, but it was one or t'other, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Or both together?” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; or both together.” + </p> + <p> + “Is any one suspected of the crime?” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated a moment, and looked as if uncertain what to reply, + then, as he set his jaw squarely, he said: + </p> + <p> + “Not as I knows on, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me something of the town,” I observed next, feeling that it was + better to ask no more vital questions of a servant. + </p> + <p> + We were driving along streets of great beauty. Large and handsome + dwellings, each set in the midst of extensive and finely-kept grounds, met + the view on either aide. Elaborate entrances opened the way to wide sweeps + of driveway circling green velvety lawns adorned with occasional shrubs or + flower-beds. The avenues were wide, and bordered with trees carefully set + out and properly trimmed. The streets were in fine condition, and + everything betokened a community, not only wealthy, but intelligent and + public-spirited. Surely West Sedgwick was a delightful location for the + homes of wealthy New York business men. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir,” said the coachman, with unconcealed pride, “Mr. Crawford was + the head of everything in the place. His is the handsomest house and the + grandest grounds. Everybody respected him and looked up to him. He hadn't + an enemy in the world.” + </p> + <p> + This was an opening for further conjecture as to the murderer, and I said: + “But the man who killed him must have been his enemy.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; but I mean no enemy that anybody knew of. It must have been + some burglar or intruder.” + </p> + <p> + Though I wanted to learn such facts as the coachman might know, his + opinions did not interest me, and I again turned my attention to the + beautiful residences we were passing. + </p> + <p> + “That place over there,” the man went on, pointing with his whip, “is Mr. + Philip Crawford's house—the brother of my master, sir. Them red + towers, sticking up through the trees, is the house of Mr. Lemuel Porter, + a great friend of both the Crawford brothers. Next, on the left, is the + home of Horace Hamilton, the great electrician. Oh, Sedgwick is full of + well-known men, sir, but Joseph Crawford was king of this town. Nobody'll + deny that.” + </p> + <p> + I knew of Mr. Crawford's high standing in the city, and now, learning of + his local preeminence, I began to think I was about to engage in what + would probably be a very important case. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + II. THE CRAWFORD HOUSE + </h2> + <p> + “Here we are, sir,” said the driver, as we turned in at a fine stone + gateway. “This is the Joseph Crawford place.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned that his + devotion to his late master was truly exceptional. + </p> + <p> + This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and all its + appurtenances, for, to me, the estate was not so magnificent as some of + the others we had passed. And yet, though not so large, I soon realized + that every detail of art or architecture was perfect in its way, and that + it was really a gem of a country home to which I had been brought. + </p> + <p> + We drove along a curving road to the house, passing well-arranged flower + beds, and many valuable trees and shrubs. Reaching the porte cochere the + driver stopped, and the groom sprang down to hand me out. + </p> + <p> + As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking in groups + on the veranda, while messengers were seen hastily coming or going through + the open front doors. + </p> + <p> + A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large room. + </p> + <p> + The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. As I + passed through the wide hall and into the drawing-room, I was conscious of + an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste and judgment. + </p> + <p> + The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and seemed well + adapted as a social setting for Joseph Crawford and his family. It should + have been inhabited by men and women in gala dress and with smiling + society manners. + </p> + <p> + It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only occupant to be a + commonplace looking man, in an ill-cut and ill-fitting business suit. He + came forward to greet me, and his manner was a trifle pompous as he + announced, “My name is Monroe, and I am the coroner. You, I think, are Mr. + Burroughs, from New York.” + </p> + <p> + It was probably not intentional, and may have been my imagination, but his + tone seemed to me amusingly patronizing. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs,” I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe with what I + hoped was an expression that would assure him that our stations were at + least equal. + </p> + <p> + I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me that he + knew of my reputation as a clever detective, and had especially desired my + attendance on this case. This sentiment was well enough, but he still kept + up his air and tone of patronage, which however amused more than irritated + me. + </p> + <p> + I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and I knew that + he was of a nature to be pleased with his own prominence as coroner, + especially in the case of so important a man as Joseph Crawford. + </p> + <p> + So I made allowance for this harmless conceit on his part, and was even + willing to cater to it a little by way of pleasing him. He seemed to me a + man, honest, but slow of thought; rather practical and serious, and though + overvaluing his own importance, yet not opinionated or stubborn. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Burroughs,” he said, “I'm very glad you could get here so promptly; + for the case seems to me a mysterious one, and the value of immediate + investigation cannot be overestimated.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” I returned. “And now will you tell me the + principal facts, as you know them, or will you depute some one else to do + so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am even now getting a jury together,” he said, “and so you will be able + to hear all that the witnesses may say in their presence. In the meantime, + if you wish to visit the scene of the crime, Mr. Parmalee will take you + there.” + </p> + <p> + At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee stepped forward and was introduced + to me. He proved to be a local detective, a young man who always attended + Coroner Monroe on occasions like the present; but who, owing to the rarity + of such occasions in West Sedgwick, had had little experience in criminal + investigation. + </p> + <p> + He was a young man of the type often seen among Americans. He was very + fair, with a pink complexion, thin, yellow hair and weak eyes. His manner + was nervously alert, and though he often began to speak with an air of + positiveness, he frequently seemed to weaken, and wound up his sentences + in a floundering uncertainty. + </p> + <p> + He seemed to be in no way jealous of my presence there, and indeed spoke + to me with an air of comradeship. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly resented this. However I did + not show my resentment and endeavored to treat Mr. Parmalee as a friend + and co-worker. + </p> + <p> + The coroner had left us together, and we stood in the drawing-room, + talking, or rather he talked and I listened. Upon acquaintance he seemed + to grow more attractive. He was impulsive and jumped at conclusions, but + he seemed to have ideas, though they were rarely definitely expressed. + </p> + <p> + He told me as much as he knew of the details of the affair and proposed + that we go directly to the scene of the crime. + </p> + <p> + As this was what I was impatient to do, I consented. + </p> + <p> + “You see, it's this way,” he said, in a confidential whisper, as we + traversed the long hall: “there is no doubt in any one's mind as to who + committed the murder, but no name has been mentioned yet, and nobody wants + to be the first to say that name. It'll come out at the inquest, of + course, and then—” + </p> + <p> + “But,” I interrupted, “if the identity of the murderer is so certain, why + did they send for me in such haste?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that was the coroner's doing. He's a bit inclined to the spectacular, + is Monroe, and he wants to make the whole affair as important as + possible.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain of the criminal it is very + absurd for me to take up the case at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name has been spoken yet. And, too, + a big case like this ought to have a city detective on it. Even if you + only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it will prove to the public + mind that it must be so.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me then, who is your suspect?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, since you are here you had better investigate with an + unprejudiced mind. Though you cannot help arriving at the inevitable + conclusion.” + </p> + <p> + We had now reached a closed door, and, at Mr. Parmalee's tap, were + admitted by the inspector who was in charge of the room. + </p> + <p> + It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and elaborate to be designated + by the name of “office,” as it was called by every one who spoke of it; + though of course it was Mr. Crawford's office, as was shown by the immense + table-desk of dark mahogany, and all the other paraphernalia of a banker's + work-room, from ticker to typewriter. + </p> + <p> + But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the stained glass of the + windows, the pictures, rugs, and vases, all betokened luxurious tastes + that are rarely indulged in office furnishings. The room was flooded with + sunlight. Long French windows gave access to a side veranda, which in turn + led down to a beautiful terrace and formal garden. But all these things + were seen only in a hurried glance, and then my eyes fell on the tragic + figure in the desk chair. + </p> + <p> + The body had not been moved, and would not be until after the jury had + seen it, and though a ghastly sight, because of a bullet-hole in the left + temple, otherwise it looked much as Mr. Crawford must have looked in life. + </p> + <p> + A handsome man, of large physique and strong, stern face, he must have + been surprised, and killed instantly; for surely, given the chance, he + would have lacked neither courage nor strength to grapple with an + assailant. + </p> + <p> + I felt a deep impulse of sympathy for that splendid specimen of humanity, + taken unawares, without having been given a moment in which to fight for + his life, and yet presumably seeing his murderer, as he seemed to have + been shot directly from the front. + </p> + <p> + As I looked at that noble face, serene and dignified in its death pallor, + I felt glad that my profession was such as might lead to the avenging of + such a detestable crime. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly I had a revulsion of feeling against such petty methods as + deductions from trifling clues. + </p> + <p> + Moreover I remembered my totally mistaken deductions of that very morning. + Let other detectives learn the truth by such claptrap means if they + choose. This case was too large and too serious to be allowed to depend on + surmises so liable to be mistaken. No, I would search for real evidence, + human testimony, reliable witnesses, and so thorough, systematic, and + persevering should my search be, that I would finally meet with success. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the clue,” said Parmelee's voice, as he grasped my arm and turned + me in another direction. + </p> + <p> + He pointed to a glittering article on the large desk. + </p> + <p> + It was a woman's purse, or bag, of the sort known as “gold-mesh.” Perhaps + six inches square, it bulged as if overcrowded with some feminine + paraphernalia. + </p> + <p> + “It's Miss Lloyd's,” went on Parmalee. “She lives here, you know—Mr. + Crawford's niece. She's lived here for years and years.” + </p> + <p> + “And you suspect her?” I said, horrified. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, she's engaged to Gregory Hall he's Mr. Crawford's + secretary—and Mr. Crawford didn't approve of the match; and so—” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders in a careless fashion, as if for a woman to + shoot her uncle were an everyday affair. + </p> + <p> + But I was shocked and incredulous, and said so. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Miss Lloyd?” I asked. “Does she claim ownership of this gold + bag?” + </p> + <p> + “No; of course not,” returned Parmalee. “She's no fool, Florence Lloyd + isn't! She's locked in her room and won't come out. Been there all the + morning. Her maid says this isn't Miss Lloyd's bag, but of course she'd + say that.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that question ought to be easily settled. What's in the bag?” + </p> + <p> + “Look for yourself. Monroe and I ran through the stuff, but there's + nothing to say for sure whose bag it is.” + </p> + <p> + I opened the pretty bauble, and let the contents fall out on the desk. + </p> + <p> + A crumpled handkerchief, a pair of white kid gloves, a little trinket + known as a “vanity case,” containing a tiny mirror and a tinier powder + puff; a couple of small hair-pins, a newspaper clipping, and a few silver + coins were all that rewarded my trouble. + </p> + <p> + Nothing definite, indeed, and yet I knew if Fleming Stone could look at + the little heap of feminine belongings, he would at once tell the fair + owner's age, height, and weight, if not her name and address. + </p> + <p> + I had only recently assured myself that such deductions were of little or + no use, and yet, I could not help minutely examining the pretty trifles + lying on the desk. I scrutinized the handkerchief for a monogram or an + initial, but it had none. It was dainty, plain and fine, of sheer linen, + with a narrow hem. To me it indicated an owner of a refined, feminine + type, and absolutely nothing more. I couldn't help thinking that even + Fleming Stone could not infer any personal characteristics of the lady + from that blank square of linen. + </p> + <p> + The vanity case I knew to be a fad of fashionable women, and had that been + monogrammed, it might have proved a clue. But, though pretty, it was + evidently not of any great value, and was merely such a trifle as the + average woman would carry about. + </p> + <p> + And yet I felt exasperated that with so many articles to study, I could + learn nothing of the individual to whom they belonged. The gloves were + hopeless. Of a good quality and a medium size, they seemed to tell me + nothing. They were but slightly soiled, and apparently might have been + worn once or twice. They had never been cleaned, as the inside showed no + scrawled hieroglyphics. But all of these conclusions pointed nowhere save + to the average well-groomed American woman. + </p> + <p> + The hair-pins and the silver money were equally bare of suggestion, but I + hopefully picked up the bit of newspaper. + </p> + <p> + “Surely this newspaper clipping must throw some light,” I mused, but it + proved to be only the address of a dyeing and cleaning establishment in + New York City. + </p> + <p> + “This is being taken care of?” I said, and the burly inspector, who up to + now had not spoken, said: + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir! Nobody touches a thing in this: room while I'm here. You, sir, + are of course an exception, but no one else is allowed to meddle with + anything.” + </p> + <p> + This reminded me that as the detective in charge of this case, it was my + privilege—indeed, my duty—to examine the papers and personal + effects that were all about, in an effort to gather clues for future use. + </p> + <p> + I was ignorant of many important details, and turned to Parmelee for + information. + </p> + <p> + That young man however, though voluble, was, inclined to talk on only one + subject, the suspected criminal, Miss Florence Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + “You see, it must be her bag. Because who else could have left it here? + Mrs. Pierce, the only other lady in the house, doesn't carry a youngish + bag like that. She'd have a black leather bag, more likely, or a— or + a—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it really doesn't matter what kind of a bag Mrs. Pierce would + carry,” said I, a little impatiently; “the thing is to prove whether this + is Miss Lloyd's bag or not. And as it is certainly not a matter of + conjecture, but a matter of fact, I think we may leave it for the present, + and turn our attention to other matters.” + </p> + <p> + I could see that Parmalee was disappointed that I had made no startling + deductions from my study of the bag and its contents, and, partly owing to + my own chagrin at this state of affairs, I pretended to consider the bag + of little consequence, and turned hopefully to an investigation of the + room. + </p> + <p> + The right-hand upper drawer of the double-pedestalled desk was open. + Seemingly, Mr. Crawford had been engaged with its contents during the + latter moments of his life. + </p> + <p> + At a glance, I saw the drawer contained exceedingly valuable and important + papers. + </p> + <p> + With an air of authority, intentionally exaggerated for the purpose of + impressing Parmalee, I closed the drawer, and locked it with the key + already in the keyhole. + </p> + <p> + This key was one of several on a key-ring, and, taking it from its place, + I dropped the whole bunch in my pocket. This action at once put me in my + rightful place. The two men watching me unconsciously assumed a more + deferential air, and, though they said nothing, I could see that their + respect for my authority had increased. + </p> + <p> + Strangely enough, after this episode, a new confidence in my own powers + took possession of me, and, shaking off the apathy that had come over me + at sight of that dread figure in the chair, I set methodically to work to + examine the room. + </p> + <p> + Of course I noted the position of the furniture, the state of the + window-fastenings, and such things in a few moments. The many filing + cabinets and indexed boxes, I glanced at, and locked those that had keys + or fastenings. + </p> + <p> + The inspector sat with folded hands watching me with interest but saying + nothing. Parmalee, on the other hand, kept up a running conversation, + sometimes remarking lightly on my actions, and again returning to the + subject of Miss Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + “I can see,” he said, “that you naturally dislike to suspect a woman, and + a young woman too. But you don't know Miss Lloyd. She is haughty and + wilful. And as I told you, nobody has mentioned her yet in this + connection. But I am speaking to you alone, and I have no reason to mince + matters. And you know Florence Lloyd is not of the Crawford stock. The + Crawfords are a fine old family, and not one of them could be capable of + crime. But Miss Lloyd is on the other side of the house, a niece of Mrs. + Crawford; and I've heard that the Lloyd stock is not all that could be + desired. There is a great deal in heredity, and she may not be + responsible...” + </p> + <p> + I paid little attention to Parmalee's talk, which was thrown at me in + jerky, desultory sentences, and interested me not at all. I went on with + my work of investigation, and though I did not get down on my knees and + examine every square inch of the carpet with a lens, yet I thoroughly + examined all of the contents of the room. I regret to say, however, that I + found nothing that seemed to be a clue to the murderer. + </p> + <p> + Stepping out on the veranda, I looked for footprints. The “light snow” + usually so helpful to a detective had not fallen, as it was April, and + rather warm for the season. But I found many heel marks, apparently of + men's boots; yet they were not necessarily of very recent date, and I + don't think much of foot-print clues, anyhow. + </p> + <p> + Then I examined the carpet, or, rather, the several rugs which ornamented + the beautiful polished floor. + </p> + <p> + I found nothing but two petals of a pale yellow rose. They were crumpled, + but not dry or withered, and could not have been long detached from the + blossom on which they grew. + </p> + <p> + Parmalee chanced to have his back toward me as I spied them, and I picked + them up and put them away in my pocket-book without his knowledge. If the + stolid inspector saw me, he made no sign. Indeed, I think he would have + said nothing if I had carried off the big desk itself. I looked round the + room for a bouquet or vase of flowers from which the petals might have + fallen, but none was there. + </p> + <p> + This far I had progressed when I heard steps in the hall, and a moment + later the coroner ushered the six gentlemen of his jury into the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + III. THE CORONER'S JURY + </h2> + <p> + It was just as the men came in at the door, that I chanced to notice a + newspaper that lay on a small table. I picked it up with an apparent air + of carelessness, and, watching my chance, unobserved by Parmalee, I put + the paper away in a drawer, which I locked. + </p> + <p> + The six men, whom Coroner Monroe named over to me, by way of a brief + introduction, stepped silently as they filed past the body of their late + friend and neighbor. + </p> + <p> + For the jurymen had been gathered hastily from among the citizens of West + Sedgwick who chanced to be passing; and as it was after eleven o'clock, + they were, for the most part, men of leisure, and occupants of the + handsome homes in the vicinity. + </p> + <p> + Probably none of them had ever before been called to act on a coroner's + jury, and all seemed impressed with the awfulness of the crime, as well as + imbued with a personal sense of sorrow. + </p> + <p> + Two of the jurors had been mentioned to me by name, by the coachman who + brought me from the station. Horace Hamilton and Lemuel Porter were + near-by neighbors of the murdered man, and; I judged from their remarks, + were rather better acquainted with him than were the others. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamilton was of the short, stout, bald-headed type, sometimes called + aldermanic. It was plainly to be seen that his was a jocund nature, and + the awe which he felt in this dreadful presence of death, though clearly + shown on his rubicund face, was evidently a rare emotion with him. He + glanced round the room as if expecting to see everything there materially + changed, and though he looked toward the figure of Mr. Crawford now and + then, it was with difficulty, and he averted his eyes as quickly as + possible. He was distinctly nervous, and though he listened to the remarks + of Coroner Monroe and the other jurors, he seemed impatient to get away. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porter, in appearance, was almost the exact reverse of Mr. Hamilton. + He was a middle-aged man with the iron gray hair and piercing dark eyes + that go to make up what is perhaps the handsomest type of Americans. He + was a tall man, strong, lean and sinewy, with a bearing of dignity and + decision. Both these men were well-dressed to the point of affluence, and, + as near neighbor and intimate friends of the dead man, they seemed to + prefer to stand together and a little apart from the rest. + </p> + <p> + Three more of the jurors seemed to me not especially noticeable in any + way. They looked as one would expect property owners in West Sedgwick to + look. They listened attentively to what Mr. Monroe said, asked few or no + questions, and seemed appalled at the unusual task they had before them. + </p> + <p> + Only one juror impressed me unpleasantly. That was Mr. Orville, a youngish + man, who seemed rather elated at the position in which he found himself. + He fingered nearly everything on the desk; he peered carefully into the + face of the victim of the crime, and he somewhat ostentatiously made notes + in a small Russia leather memorandum book. + </p> + <p> + He spoke often to the coroner, saying things which seemed to me + impertinent, such as, “Have you noticed the blotter, Mr. Coroner? Very + often, you know, much may be learned from the blotter on a man's desk.” + </p> + <p> + As the large blotter in question was by no means fresh, indeed was thickly + covered with ink impressions, and as there was nothing to indicate that + Mr. Crawford had been engaged in writing immediately before his death, Mr. + Orville's suggestion was somewhat irrelevant. And, too, the jurors were + not detectives seeking clues, but were now merely learning the known + facts. + </p> + <p> + However, Mr. Orville fussed around, even looking into the wastebasket, and + turning up a corner of a large rug as if ferreting for evidence. + </p> + <p> + The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, and, after a few moments, + they followed the coroner out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Then the doctor and his assistants came to take the body away, and I went + in search of Coroner Monroe, eager for further information concerning the + case, of which I really, as yet, knew but little. + </p> + <p> + Parmalee went with me and we found Mr. Monroe in the library, quite ready + to talk with us. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Orville seems to possess the detective instinct himself,” observed + Mr. Parmalee, with what seemed like a note of jealousy in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “The true detective mind,” returned Mr. Monroe, with his slow pomposity, + “is not dependent on instinct or intuition.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that,” I said, “or where does it + differ from the ordinary inquiring mind?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Burroughs,” the coroner went on, + almost as if I had not spoken, “that it depends upon a nicely adjusted + mentality that is quick to see the cause back of an effect.” + </p> + <p> + To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, but there was something + in the unctuous roll of Mr. Monroe's words that made me positive he was + quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had not himself a perfectly clear + comprehension of its meaning. + </p> + <p> + “It's guessing,” declared Parmalee, “that's all it is, guessing. If you + guess right, you're a famous detective; if you guess wrong, you're a dub. + That's all there is about it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, Mr. Parmalee,”—and Mr. Monroe slowly shook his finger at + the rash youth—“what you call guessing is really divination. Yes, my + dear sir, it is actual divination.” + </p> + <p> + “To my mind,” I put in, “detective divination is merely minute + observation. But why do we quibble over words and definitions when there + is much work to be done? When is the formal inquest to be held, Mr. + Monroe?” + </p> + <p> + “This afternoon at two o'clock,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Then I'll go away now,” I said, “for I must find an abiding place for + myself in West Sedgwick. There is an inn, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “They'll probably ask you to stay here,” observed Coroner Monroe, “but I + advise you not to do so. I think you'll be freer and less hampered in your + work if you go to the inn.” + </p> + <p> + “I quite agree with you,” I replied. “But I see little chance of being + invited to stay here. Where is the family? Who are in it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, a niece of Mr. Crawford. That is, + she is the niece of his wife. Mrs. Crawford has been dead many years, and + Miss Lloyd has kept house for her uncle all that time. Then there is Mrs. + Pierce, an elderly lady and a distant relative of Mr. Crawford's. That is + all, except the secretary, Gregory Hall, who lives here much of the time. + That is, he has a room here, but often he is in New York or elsewhere on + Mr. Crawford's business.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Crawford had an office both here and in New York?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home as much as possible. He went + to New York only about three or four days in the week, and conducted his + business from here the rest of the time. Young Hall is a clever fellow, + and has been Mr. Crawford's righthand man for years.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is he now?” + </p> + <p> + “We think he's in New York, but haven't yet been able to locate him at Mr. + Crawford's office there, or at his club. He is engaged to Miss Lloyd, + though I understand that the engagement is contrary to Mr. Crawford's + wishes.” + </p> + <p> + “And where is Miss Lloyd,—and Mrs. Pierce?” + </p> + <p> + “They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce is prostrated at the tragedy, + and Miss Lloyd simply refuses to make her appearance.” + </p> + <p> + “But she'll have to attend the inquest?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course. She'll be with us then. I think I won't say anything + about her to you, as I'd rather you'd see her first with entirely + unprejudiced eyes.” + </p> + <p> + “So you, too, think Miss Lloyd is implicated?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think anything about it, Mr. Burroughs. As coroner it is not my + place to think along such lines.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, everybody else thinks so,” broke in Parmalee. “And why? Because + there's no one else for suspicion to light on. No one else who by any + possibility could have done the deed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come now, Mr. Parmalee,” said I, “there must be others. They may not + yet have come to our notice, but surely you must admit an intruder could + have come into the room by way of those long, open windows.” + </p> + <p> + “These speculations are useless, gentlemen,” said Mr. Monroe, with his + usual air of settling the matter. “Cease then, I beg, or at least postpone + them. If you are walking down the avenue, Mr. Parmalee, perhaps you'll be + good enough to conduct Mr. Burroughs to the Sedgwick Arms, where he + doubtless can find comfortable accommodations.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked Mr. Monroe for the suggestion, but said, straightforwardly + enough, that I was not yet quite ready to leave the Crawford house, but + that I would not detain Mr. Parmalee, for I could myself find my way to + the inn, having noticed it on my drive from the train. + </p> + <p> + So Parmalee went away, and I was about to return to Mr. Crawford's office + where I hoped to pursue a little uninterrupted investigation. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Monroe detained me a moment, to present me to a tall, fine-looking + man who had just come in. + </p> + <p> + He proved to be Philip Crawford, a brother of Joseph, and I at once + observed a strong resemblance between their two faces. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to meet you, Mr. Burroughs,” he said. “Mr. Monroe tells me you + are a clever and experienced detective, and I trust you can help us to + avenge this dastardly crime. I am busy with some important matters just + now, but later I shall be glad to confer with you, and be of any help I + can in your investigation.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at Mr. Philip Crawford curiously. Of course I didn't expect him + to give way to emotional grief, but it jarred on me to hear him refer to + his brother's tragic death in such cold tones, and with such a + businesslike demeanor. + </p> + <p> + However, I realized I did not know the man at all, and this attitude might + be due to his effort in concealing his real feelings. + </p> + <p> + He looked very like his brother Joseph, and I gathered from the appearance + of both men, and the manner of Philip, that the Crawford nature was one of + repression and self-control. Moreover, I knew nothing of the sentiments of + the two brothers, and it might easily be that they were not entirely in + sympathy. + </p> + <p> + I thanked him for his offer of help, and then as he volunteered no further + observations, I excused myself and proceeded alone to the library. + </p> + <p> + As I entered the great room and closed the door behind me, I was again + impressed by the beauty and luxury of the appointments. Surely Joseph + Crawford must have been a man of fine calibre and refined tastes to enjoy + working in such an atmosphere. But I had only two short hours before the + inquest, and I had many things to do, so for the moment I set myself + assiduously to work examining the room again. As in my first examination, + I did no microscopic scrutinizing; but I looked over the papers on and in + the desk, I noted conditions in the desk of Mr. Hall, the secretary, and I + paid special attention to the position of the furniture and windows, my + thoughts all directed to an intruder from outside on Mr. Crawford's + midnight solitude. + </p> + <p> + I stepped through the long French window on to the veranda, and after a + thorough examination of the veranda, I went on down the steps to the + gravel walk. Against a small rosebush, just off the walk, I saw a small + slip of pink paper. I picked it up, hardly daring to hope it might be a + clue, and I saw it was a trolley transfer, whose punched holes indicated + that it had been issued the evening before. It might or might not be + important as evidence, but I put it carefully away in my note-book for + later consideration. + </p> + <p> + Returning to the library I took the newspaper which I had earlier + discovered from the drawer where I had hidden it, and after one more swift + but careful glance round the room, I went away, confident that I had not + done my work carelessly. + </p> + <p> + I left the Crawford house and walked along the beautiful avenue to the + somewhat pretentious inn bearing the name of Sedgwick Arms. + </p> + <p> + Here, as I had been led to believe, I found pleasant, even luxurious + accommodations. The landlord of the inn was smiling and pleasant, although + landlord seems an old-fashioned term to apply to the very modern and + up-to-date man who received me. + </p> + <p> + His name was Carstairs, and he had the genial, perceptive manner of a man + about town. + </p> + <p> + “Dastardly shame!” he exclaimed, after he had assured himself of my + identity. “Joseph Crawford was one of our best citizens, one of our finest + men. He hadn't an enemy in the world, my dear Mr. Burroughs—not an + enemy! generous, kindly nature, affable and friendly with all.” + </p> + <p> + “But I understand he frowned on his ward's love affair, Mr. Carstairs.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; yes, indeed. And who wouldn't? Young Hall is no fit mate for + Florence Lloyd. He's a fortune-hunter. I know the man, and his only + ambition is the aggrandizement of his own precious self.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you don't consider Miss Lloyd concerned in this crime?” + </p> + <p> + “Concerned in crime? Florence Lloyd! why, man, you must be crazy! The idea + is unthinkable!” + </p> + <p> + I was sorry I had spoken, but I remembered too late that the suspicions + which pointed toward Miss Lloyd were probably known only to those who had + been in the Crawford house that morning. As for the townspeople in + general, though they knew of the tragedy, they knew very little of its + details. + </p> + <p> + I hastened to assure Mr. Carstairs that I had never seen Miss Lloyd, that + I had formed no opinions whatever, and that I was merely repeating what + were probably vague and erroneous suspicions of mistakenly-minded people. + </p> + <p> + At last, behind my locked door, I took from my pocket the newspaper I had + brought from Mr. Crawford's office. + </p> + <p> + It seemed to me important, from the fact that it was an extra, published + late the night before. + </p> + <p> + An Atlantic liner had met with a serious accident, and an extra had been + hastily put forth by one of the most enterprising of our evening papers. + I, myself, had bought one of these extras, about midnight; and the finding + of a copy in the office of the murdered man might prove a clue to the + criminal. + </p> + <p> + I then examined carefully the transfer slip I had picked up on the + Crawford lawn. It had been issued after nine o'clock the evening before. + This seemed to me to prove that the holder of that transfer must have been + on the Crawford property and near the library veranda late last night, and + it seemed to me that this was plain common-sense reasoning, and not mere + intuition or divination. The transfer might have a simple and innocent + explanation, but until I could learn of that, I should hold it carefully + as a possible clue. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IV. THE INQUEST + </h2> + <p> + Shortly before two o'clock I was back at the Crawford house and found the + large library, where the inquest was to be held, already well filled with + people. I took an inconspicuous seat, and turned my attention first to the + group that comprised, without a doubt, the members of Mr. Crawford's + household. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd—for I knew at a glance the black-robed young woman must + be she—was of a striking personality. Tall, large, handsome, she + could have posed as a model for Judith, Zenobia, or any of the great and + powerful feminine characters in history. I was impressed not so much by + her beauty as by her effect of power and ability. I had absolutely no + reason, save Parmalee's babblings, to suspect this woman of crime, but I + could not rid myself of a conviction that she had every appearance of + being capable of it. + </p> + <p> + Yet her face was full of contradictions. The dark eyes were haughty, even + imperious; but the red, curved mouth had a tender expression, and the + chin, though firm and decided-looking, yet gave an impression of + gentleness. + </p> + <p> + On the whole, she fascinated me by the very mystery of her charm, and I + found my eyes involuntarily returning again and again to that beautiful + face. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed in a black, trailing gown of material which I think is + called China crepe. It fell around her in soft waving folds and lay in + little billows on the floor. Her dark hair was dressed high on her head, + and seemed to form a sort of crown which well suited her regal type. She + held her head high, and the uplift of her chin seemed to be a natural + characteristic. + </p> + <p> + Good birth and breeding spoke in every phase of her personality, and in + her every movement and gesture. I remembered Parmalee's hint of unworthy + ancestors, and cast it aside as impossible of belief. She spoke seldom, + but occasionally turned to the lady at her side with a few murmured words + that were indubitably those of comfort or encouragement. + </p> + <p> + Her companion, a gray-haired, elderly lady, was, of course, Mrs. Pierce. + She was trembling with the excitement of the occasion, and seemed to + depend on Florence Lloyd's strong personality and affectionate sympathy to + keep her from utter collapse. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce was of the old school of gentlewomen. Her quiet, black gown + with its crepe trimmings, gave, even to my masculine eye an effect of + correct and fashionable, yet quiet and unostentatious mourning garb. + </p> + <p> + She had what seemed to me a puzzling face. It did not suggest strength of + character, for the soft old cheeks and quivering lips indicated no strong + self-control, and yet from her sharp, dark eyes she now and again darted + glances that were unmistakably those of a keen and positive personality. + </p> + <p> + I concluded that hers was a strong nature, but shaken to its foundation by + the present tragedy. There was, without doubt, a great affection existing + between her and Miss Lloyd, and yet I felt that they were not in each + other's complete confidence. + </p> + <p> + Though, for that matter, I felt intuitively that few people possessed the + complete confidence of Florence Lloyd. Surely she was a wonderful + creature, and as I again allowed myself to gaze on her beautiful face I + was equally convinced of the possibility of her committing a crime and the + improbability of her doing so. + </p> + <p> + Near these two sat a young man who, I was told, was Gregory Hall, the + secretary. He had been reached by telephone, and had come out from New + York, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford house. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average type of young American + citizens. He was fairly good-looking, fairly well-groomed, and so far as I + could judge from his demeanor, fairly well-bred. His dark hair was + commonplace, and parted on the side, while his small, carefully arranged + mustache was commonplace also. He looked exactly what he was, the trusted + secretary of a financial magnate, and he seemed to me a man whose dress, + manner, and speech would always be made appropriate to the occasion or + situation. In fact, so thoroughly did he exhibit just such a demeanor as + suited a confidential secretary at the inquest of his murdered employer, + that I involuntarily thought what a fine undertaker he would have made. + For, in my experience, no class of men so perfectly adapt themselves to + varying atmospheres as undertakers. + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic looking young chap, were also in + this group. Young Crawford inherited to a degree the fine appearance of + his father and uncle, and bade fair to become the same kind of a + first-class American citizen as they. + </p> + <p> + Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the procedure, + were gathered the several servants of the house. + </p> + <p> + Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed. + </p> + <p> + The man was a somewhat pompous, middle-aged Englishman, and though of + stolid appearance, his face showed what might perhaps be described as an + intelligent stupidity. + </p> + <p> + After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, the + coroner asked him to tell his own story of the early morning. + </p> + <p> + In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the man capable + of, he detailed his discovery of his master's body. + </p> + <p> + “I came down-stairs at seven this morning,” he said, “as I always do. I + opened the house, I saw the cook a few moments about matters pertaining to + breakfast, and I attended to my usual duties. At about half-past seven I + went to Mr. Crawford's office, to set it in order for the day, and as I + opened the door I saw him sitting in his chair. At first I thought he'd + dropped asleep there, and been there all night, then in a moment I saw + what had happened.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what did you do next?” asked the coroner, as the man paused. + </p> + <p> + “I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's valet. He was just coming down + the stairs. He looked surprised, for he said Mr. Crawford was not in his + room, and his bed hadn't been slept in.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he seem alarmed?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. But he seemed + agitated, for of course it was most unusual not finding Mr. Crawford in + his own room.” + </p> + <p> + “How did Louis show his agitation?” broke in Mr. Orville. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated,—he looked more blank, + yes, as you might say, blank.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he trembling?” persisted Mr. Orville, “was he pale?” and the coroner + frowned slightly at this juror's repeated inquisitiveness. + </p> + <p> + “Louis is always pale,” returned the butler, seeming to make an effort to + speak the exact truth. + </p> + <p> + “Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the matter,” Mr. + Orville said, with an air of one saying something of importance. + </p> + <p> + “He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's death,” + said Lambert, looking disturbed and a little bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Tell your own story, Lambert,” said Coroner Monroe, rather crisply. + “We'll hear what Louis has to say later.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the—the + accident, and we wondered what to do. I was for telephoning right off to + Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first we'd better tell Miss Florence + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you?” + </p> + <p> + “We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, was on + the stairs. So we told her, and told her to tell Miss Lloyd, and ask her + for orders. Well, her orders was for us to call up Doctor Fairchild, and + so we did. He came as soon as he could, and he's been in charge ever + since, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A straightforward story, clearly told,” observed the coroner, and then he + called upon Louis, the valet. This witness, a young Frenchman, was far + more nervous and excited than the calm-mannered butler, but the gist of + his story corroborated Lambert's. + </p> + <p> + Asked if he was not called upon to attend his master at bedtime, he + replied, + </p> + <p> + “Non, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford sat late in his library, or his + office, he dismiss me and say I may go to bed, or whatever I like. Almost + alway he tell me that.” + </p> + <p> + “And he told you this last night?” + </p> + <p> + “But yes. When I lay out his clothes for dinner, he then tell me so.” + </p> + <p> + Although the man seemed sure enough of his statements he was evidently + troubled in his mind. It might have been merely that his French nature was + more excitable than the stolid indifference of the English butler. But at + the same time I couldn't help feeling that the man had not told all he + knew. This was merely surmise on my part, and I could not persuade myself + that there was enough ground for it to call it even an intuition. So I + concluded it best to ask no questions of the valet at present, but to look + into his case later. + </p> + <p> + Parmalee, however, seemed to have concluded differently. He looked at + Louis with an intent gaze as he said, “Had your master said or done + anything recently to make you think he was despondent or troubled in any + way?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” said the man; but the answer was not spontaneous, and Louis's + eyes rolled around with an expression of fear. I was watching him closely + myself, and I could not help seeing that against his will his glance + sought always Florence Lloyd, and though he quickly averted it, he was + unable to refrain from furtive, fleeting looks in her direction. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know anything more of this matter than you have told us?” inquired + the coroner of the witness. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” replied Louis, and this time he spoke as with more certainty. + “After Lambert and I came out of Mr. Crawford's office, we did just + exactly as Lambert has tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's all, Louis.... But, Lambert, one other matter. Tell us all you + know of Mr. Joseph Crawford's movements last evening.” + </p> + <p> + “He was at dinner, as usual, sir,” said the butler, in his monotonous + drawl. “There were no guests, only the family. After dinner Mr. Crawford + went out for a time. He returned about nine o'clock. I saw him come in, + with his own key, and I saw him go to his office. Soon after Mr. Porter + called.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Lemuel Porter?” asked the coroner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” said the butler; and Mr. Porter, who was one of the jurors, + gravely nodded his head in acquiescence. + </p> + <p> + “He stayed until about ten, I should say,” went on the butler, and again + Mr. Porter gave an affirmative nod. “I let him out myself,” went on + Lambert, “and soon after that I went to the library to see if Mr. Crawford + had any orders for me. He told me of some household matters he wished me + to attend to to-day, and then he said he would sit up for some time + longer, and I might go to bed if I liked. A very kind and considerate man, + sir, was Mr. Crawford.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you then go to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. I locked up all the house, except the office. Mr. Crawford + always locks those windows himself, when he sits up late. The ladies had + already gone to their rooms; Mr. Hall was away for the night, so I closed + up the front of the house, and went to bed. That's all I know about the + matter, sir—until I came down-stairs this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “You heard no sound in the night—no revolver shot?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. But my room is on the third floor, and at the other end of the + house, sir. I couldn't hear a shot fired in the office, I'm sure, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And you found no weapon of any sort in the office this morning?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; Louis and I both looked for that, but there was none in the + room. Of that I'm sure, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Lambert.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; thank you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said I, wishing to know the exact condition of the house at + midnight. “You say, Lambert, you closed up the front of the house. Does + that mean there was a back door open?” + </p> + <p> + “It means I locked the front door, sir, and put the chain on. The library + door opening on to the veranda I did not lock, for, as I said, Mr. + Crawford always locks that and the windows in there when he is there late. + The back door I left on the night latch, as Louis was spending the evening + out.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Louis was spending the evening out, was he?” exclaimed Mr. Orville. + “I think that should be looked into, Mr. Coroner. Louis said nothing of + this in his testimony.” + </p> + <p> + Coroner Monroe turned again to Louis and asked him where he was the + evening before. + </p> + <p> + The man was now decidedly agitated, but by an effort he controlled himself + and answered steadily enough: + </p> + <p> + “I have tell you that Mr. Crawford say I may go wherever I like. And so, + last evening I spend with a young lady.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time did you go out?” + </p> + <p> + “At half after the eight, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And what time did you return?” + </p> + <p> + “I return about eleven.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you then see a light in Mr. Crawford's office?” + </p> + <p> + Louis hesitated a moment. It could easily be seen that he was pausing only + to enable himself to speak naturally and clearly, but it was only after + one of those darting glances at Miss Lloyd that he replied: + </p> + <p> + “I could not see Mr. Crawford's office, because I go around the other side + of the house. I make my entree by the back door; I go straight to my room, + and I know nothing of my master until I go to his room this morning and + find him not there.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you didn't go to his room last night on your return?” + </p> + <p> + “As I pass his door, I see it open, and his light low, so I know he is + still below stair.” + </p> + <p> + “And you did not pass by the library on your way round the house?” + </p> + <p> + Louis's face turned a shade whiter than usual, but he said distinctly, + though in a low voice, “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + An involuntary gasp as of amazement was heard, and though I looked quickly + at Miss Lloyd, it was not she who had made the sound. It was one of the + maidservants, a pretty German girl, who sat behind Miss Lloyd. No one else + seemed to notice it, and I realized it was not surprising that the strain + of the occasion should thus disturb the girl. + </p> + <p> + “You heard Louis come in, Lambert?” asked Mr. Monroe, who was conducting + the whole inquiry in a conversational way, rather than as a formal + inquest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; he came in about eleven, and went directly to his room.” + </p> + <p> + The butler stood with folded hands, a sad expression in his eyes, but with + an air of importance that seemed to be inseparable from him, in any + circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Doctor Fairchild was called as the next witness. + </p> + <p> + He testified that he had been summoned that morning at about quarter + before eight o'clock. He had gone immediately to Mr. Crawford's house, was + admitted by the butler, and taken at once to the office. He found Mr. + Crawford dead in his chair, shot through the left temple with a thirty-two + calibre revolver. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” said Mr. Lemuel Porter, who, with the other jurors, was + listening attentively to all the testimony. “If the weapon was not found, + how do you know its calibre?” + </p> + <p> + “I extracted the bullet from the wound,” returned Doctor Fairchild, “and + those who know have pronounced it to be a ball fired from a small pistol + of thirty-two calibre.” + </p> + <p> + “But if Mr. Crawford had committed suicide, the pistol would have been + there,” said Mr. Porter; who seemed to be a more acute thinker than the + other jurymen. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly,” agreed the coroner. “That's why we must conclude that Mr. + Crawford did not take his own life.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor would he have done so,” declared Doctor Fairchild. “I have known the + deceased for many years. He had no reason for wishing to end his life, + and, I am sure, no inclination to do so. He was shot by an alien hand, and + the deed was probably committed at or near midnight.” + </p> + <p> + “Thus we assume,” the coroner went on, as the doctor finished his simple + statement and resumed his seat, “that Mr. Crawford remained in his office, + occupied with his business matters, until midnight or later, when some + person or persons came into his room, murdered him, and went away again, + without making sufficient noise or disturbance to arouse the sleeping + household.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Mr. Crawford himself had fallen asleep in his chair,” suggested + one of the jurors,—the Mr. Orville, who was continually taking notes + in his little book. + </p> + <p> + “It is possible,” said the doctor, as the remark was practically addressed + to him, “but not probable. The attitude in which the body was found + indicates that the victim was awake, and in full possession of his + faculties. Apparently he made no resistance of any sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Which seems to show,” said the coroner, “that his assailant was not a + burglar or tramp, for in that case he would surely have risen and tried to + put him out. The fact that Mr. Crawford was evidently shot by a person + standing in front of him, seems to imply that that person's attitude was + friendly, and that the victim had no suspicion of the danger that + threatened him.” + </p> + <p> + This was clear and logical reasoning, and I looked at the coroner in + admiration, until I suddenly remembered Parmalee's hateful suspicion and + wondered if Coroner Monroe was preparing for an attack upon Miss Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall was summoned next. + </p> + <p> + He was self-possessed and even cool in his demeanor. There was a frank + manner about him that pleased me, but there was also a something which + repelled me. + </p> + <p> + I couldn't quite explain it to myself, but while he had an air of extreme + straightforwardness, there was also an indefinable effect of reserve. I + couldn't help feeling that if this man had anything to conceal, he would + be quite capable of doing so under a mask of great outspokenness. + </p> + <p> + But, as it turned out, he had nothing either to conceal or reveal, for he + had been away from West Sedgwick since six o'clock the night before, and + knew nothing of the tragedy until he heard of it by telephone at Mr. + Crawford's New York office that morning about half-past ten. This made him + of no importance as a witness, but Mr. Monroe asked him a few questions. + </p> + <p> + “You left here last evening, you say?” + </p> + <p> + “On the six o'clock train to New York, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “For what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “On business for Mr. Crawford.” + </p> + <p> + “Did that business occupy you last evening?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hall looked surprised at this question, but answered quietly + </p> + <p> + “No; I was to attend to the business to-day. But I often go to New York + for several days at a time.” + </p> + <p> + “And where were you last evening?” pursued the coroner. + </p> + <p> + This time Mr. Hall looked more surprised still, and said + </p> + <p> + “As it has no bearing on the matter in hand, I prefer not to answer that + rather personal question.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Monroe looked surprised in his turn, and said: “I think I must insist + upon an answer, Mr. Hall, for it is quite necessary that we learn the + whereabouts of every member of this household last evening.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot agree with you, sir,” said Gregory Hall, coolly; “my engagements + for last evening were entirely personal matters, in no way connected with + Mr. Crawford's business. As I was not in West Sedgwick at the time my late + employer met his death, I cannot see that my private affairs need be + called into question.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite so, quite so,” put in Mr. Orville; but Lemuel Porter interrupted + him. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all so. I agree with Mr. Monroe, that Mr. Hall should frankly tell + us where he spent last evening.” + </p> + <p> + “And I refuse to do so,” said Mr. Hall, speaking not angrily, but with + great decision. + </p> + <p> + “Your refusal may tend to direct suspicion toward yourself, Mr. Hall,” + said the coroner. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall smiled slightly. “As I was out of town, your suggestion + sounds a little absurd. However, I take that risk, and absolutely refuse + to answer any questions save those which relate to the matter in hand.” + </p> + <p> + Coroner Monroe looked rather helplessly at his jurors, but as none of them + said anything further, he turned again to Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + “The telephone message you received this morning, then, was the first + knowledge you had of Mr. Crawford's death?” + </p> + <p> + “It was.” + </p> + <p> + “And you came out here at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; on the first train I could catch.” + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry you resent personal questions, Mr. Hall, for I must ask you + some. Are you engaged to Mr. Crawford's niece, Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “I am.” + </p> + <p> + This answer was given in a low, quiet tone, apparently without emotion of + any kind, but Miss Lloyd showed, a different attitude. At the words of + Gregory Hall, she blushed, dropped her eyes, fingered her handkerchief + nervously, and evinced just such embarrassment as might be expected from + any young woman, in the event of a public mention of her betrothal. And + yet I had not looked for such an exhibition from Florence Lloyd. Her very + evident strength of character would seem to preclude the actions of an + inexperienced debutante. + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Crawford approve of your engagement to his niece?” pursued Mr. + Monroe. + </p> + <p> + “With all due respect, Mr. Coroner,” said Gregory Hall, in his subdued but + firm way, “I cannot think these questions are relevant or pertinent. + Unless you can assure me that they are, I prefer not to reply.” + </p> + <p> + “They are both relevant and pertinent to the matter in hand, Mr. Hall; but + I am now of the opinion that they would better be asked of another + witness. You are excused. I now call Miss Florence Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + V. FLORENCE LLOYD + </h2> + <p> + A stir was perceptible all through the room as Miss Lloyd acknowledged by + a bow of her beautiful head the summons of the coroner. + </p> + <p> + The jurors looked at her with evident sympathy and admiration, and I + remembered that as they were fellow-townsmen and neighbors they probably + knew the young woman well, and she was doubtless a friend of their own + daughters. + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if such social acquaintance must prejudice them in her favor, + and perhaps render them incapable of unbiased judgment, should her + evidence be incriminating. But in my secret heart, I confess, I felt glad + of this. I was glad of anything that would keep even a shadow of suspicion + away from this girl to whose fascinating charm I had already fallen a + victim. + </p> + <p> + Nor was I the only one in the room who dreaded the mere thought of Miss + Lloyd's connection with this horrible matter. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter were, I could see, greatly concerned lest some + mistaken suspicion should indicate any doubt of the girl. I could see by + their kindly glances that she was a favorite, and was absolutely free from + suspicion in their minds. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Orville had not quite the same attitude. Though he looked at Miss + Lloyd admiringly, I felt sure he was alertly ready to pounce upon anything + that might seem to connect her with a guilty knowledge of this crime. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall's attitude was inexplicable, and I concluded I had yet much + to learn about that young man. He looked at Miss Lloyd critically, and + though his glance could not be called quite unsympathetic, yet it showed + no definite sympathy. He seemed to be coldly weighing her in his own + mental balance, and he seemed to await whatever she might be about to say + with the impartial air of a disinterested judge. Though a stranger myself, + my heart ached for the young woman who was placed so suddenly in such a + painful position, but Gregory Hall apparently lacked any personal interest + in the case. + </p> + <p> + I felt sure this was not true, that he was not really so unconcerned as he + appeared; but I could not guess why he chose to assume an impassive mask. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd had not risen as it was not required of her, and she sat + expectant, but with no sign of nervousness. Mrs. Pierce, her companion, + was simply quivering with agitation. Now and again she would touch Miss + Lloyd's shoulder or hand, or whisper a word of encouragement, or perhaps + wring her own hands in futile despair. + </p> + <p> + Of course these demonstrations were of little avail, nor did it seem as if + Florence Lloyd needed assistance or support. + </p> + <p> + She gave the impression not only of general capability in managing her own + affairs, but of a special strength in an emergency. + </p> + <p> + And an emergency it was; for though the two before-mentioned jurors, who + had been intimate friends of her uncle, were doubtless in sympathy with + Miss Lloyd, and though the coroner was kindly disposed toward her, yet the + other jurors took little pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, and + as for Mr. Parmalee, he was fairly eager with anticipation of the + revelations about to come. + </p> + <p> + “Your name?” said the corner briefly, as if conquering his own sympathy by + an unnecessarily formal tone. + </p> + <p> + “Florence Lloyd,” was the answer. + </p> + <p> + “Your position in this house?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who died many years ago. Since + her death I have lived with Mr. Crawford, occupying in every respect the + position of his daughter, though not legally adopted as such.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Crawford was always kind to you?” + </p> + <p> + “More than kind. He was generous and indulgent, and, though not of an + affectionate nature, he was always courteous and gentle.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell us of the last time you saw him alive?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd hesitated. She showed no embarrassment, no trepidation; she + merely seemed to be thinking. + </p> + <p> + Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of the servants, Mrs. Pierce, Mr. + Philip Crawford, the jurors, and, lastly, dwelt for a moment on the now + anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + Then she said slowly, but in an even, unemotional voice: “It was last + night at dinner. After dinner was over, my uncle went out, and before he + returned I had gone to my room.” + </p> + <p> + “Was there anything unusual about his appearance or demeanor at + dinner-time?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I noticed nothing of the sort.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he troubled or annoyed about any matter, that you know of?” + </p> + <p> + “He was annoyed about one matter that has been annoying him for some time: + that is, my engagement to Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently this was the answer the coroner had expected, for he nodded his + head in a satisfied way. + </p> + <p> + The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, and I realized that the + acquaintances of the Crawfords were well informed as to Miss Lloyd's + romance. + </p> + <p> + “He did not approve of that engagement?” went on the coroner, though he + seemed to be stating a fact, rather than asking a question. + </p> + <p> + “He did not,” returned Miss Lloyd, and her color rose as she observed the + intense interest manifest among her hearers. + </p> + <p> + “And the subject was discussed at the dinner table?” + </p> + <p> + “It was.” + </p> + <p> + “What was the tenor of the conversation?” + </p> + <p> + “To the effect that I must break the engagement.” + </p> + <p> + “Which you refused to do?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined note had crept into her + voice, and she looked at her betrothed husband with an air of affectionate + pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man into the seventh + heaven. But I noted Mr. Hall's expression with surprise. Instead of gazing + adoringly at this girl who was thus publicly proving her devotion to him, + he sat with eyes cast down, and frowning—positively frowning—while + his fingers played nervously with his watch-chain. + </p> + <p> + Surely this case required my closest attention, for I place far more + confidence in deductions from facial expression and tones of the voice, + than from the discovery of small, inanimate objects. + </p> + <p> + And if I chose to deduce from facial expressions I had ample scope in the + countenances of these two people. + </p> + <p> + I was particularly anxious not to jump at an unwarrantable conclusion, but + the conviction was forced upon me then and there that these two people + knew more about the crime than they expected to tell. I certainly did not + suspect either of them to be touched with guilt, but I was equally sure + that they were not ingenuous in their testimony. + </p> + <p> + While I knew that they were engaged, having heard it from both of them, I + could not think that the course of their love affair was running smoothly. + I found myself drifting into idle speculation as to whether this + engagement was more desired by one than the other, and if so, by which. + </p> + <p> + But though I could not quite understand these two, it gave me no trouble + to know which I admired more. At the moment, Miss Lloyd seemed to me to + represent all that was beautiful, noble and charming in womanhood, while + Gregory Hall gave me the impression of a man crafty, selfish and + undependable. However, I fully realized that I was theorizing without + sufficient data, and determinedly I brought my attention back to the + coroner's catalogue of questions. + </p> + <p> + “Who else heard this conversation, besides yourself, Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Pierce was at the table with us, and the butler was in the room much + of the time.” + </p> + <p> + The purport of the coroner's question was obvious. Plainly he meant that + she might as well tell the truth in the matter, as her testimony could + easily be overthrown or corroborated. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd deliberately looked at the two persons mentioned. Mrs. Pierce + was trembling as with nervous apprehension, but she looked steadily at + Miss Lloyd, with eyes full of loyalty and devotion. + </p> + <p> + And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. If I could read her face + aright, it bore the expression of one who would stand by her friend + whatever might come. If she herself had had doubts of Florence Lloyd's + integrity, but was determined to suppress them and swear to a belief in + her, she would look just as she did now. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who stood with folded arms, gazed + straight ahead with an inscrutable countenance, but his set lips and + square jaw betokened decision. + </p> + <p> + As I read it, Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, that should she tell an + untruth about that talk at the dinner-table, Mrs. Pierce would repeat and + corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute her, and would state + veraciously what his master had said. Clearly, it was useless to attempt a + false report, and, with a little sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed to resign herself + to her fate, and calmly awaited the coroner's further questions. + </p> + <p> + But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree. The lack of + responsive glances from Gregory Hall's eyes seemed to perplex her. The + eager interest of the six jurymen made her restless and embarrassed. The + coroner's abrupt questions frightened her, and I feared her self-enforced + calm must sooner or later give way. + </p> + <p> + And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting those + uncontrollable glances toward her. And as the agitated Frenchman + endeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe that the + pretty-faced maid I had noticed before, was staring fixedly at Louis. + Surely there were wheels within wheels, and the complications of this + matter were not to be solved by the simple questions of the coroner. But + of course this preliminary examination was necessary, and it was from this + that I must learn the main story, and endeavor to find out the secrets + afterward. + </p> + <p> + “What was your uncle's response when you refused to break your engagement + to Mr. Hall?” was the next inquiry. + </p> + <p> + Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, while she directed her gaze + successively at several individuals. This time she favored Mr. Randolph, + who was Mr. Crawford's lawyer, and Philip Crawford, the dead man's + brother. After looking in turn at these two, and glancing for a moment at + Philip Crawford's son, who sat by his side, she said, in a lower voice + than she had before used, + </p> + <p> + “He said he would change his will, and leave none of his fortune to me.” + </p> + <p> + “His will, then, has been made in your favor?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole heiress to his estate, except + for some comparatively small bequests.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he ever threaten this proceeding before?” + </p> + <p> + “He had hinted it, but not so definitely.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Hall know of Mr. Crawford's objection to his suit?” + </p> + <p> + “He did.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he know of your uncle's hints of disinheritance?” + </p> + <p> + “He did.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his attitude in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + Florence Lloyd looked proudly at her lover. + </p> + <p> + “The same as mine,” she said. “We both regretted my uncle's protest, but + we had no intention of letting it stand in the way of our happiness.” + </p> + <p> + Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee. He sat motionless, + preoccupied, and seemingly lost in deep thought, oblivious to all that was + going on. + </p> + <p> + Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the time of the murder made him feel + that he was in no way implicated, and so the inquiry held no interest for + him; or whether he was looking ahead and wondering whither these vital + questions were leading Florence Lloyd, I had no means of knowing. + Certainly, he was a man of most impassive demeanor and marvellous + self-control. + </p> + <p> + “Then, in effect, you defied your uncle?” + </p> + <p> + “In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words. I always tried to + urge him to see the matter in a different light.” + </p> + <p> + “What was his objection to Mr. Hall as your husband?” + </p> + <p> + “Must I answer that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I think so; as I must have a clear understanding of the whole + affair.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, he told me that he had no objection to Mr. Hall, personally. + But he wished me to make what he called a more brilliant alliance. He + wanted me to marry a man of greater wealth and social position.” + </p> + <p> + The scorn in Miss Lloyd's voice for her uncle's ambitions was so + unmistakable that it made her whole answer seem a compliment to Mr. Hall, + rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling worth of the young + secretary was far more to be desired than the riches and rank advocated by + her uncle. This time Gregory Hall looked at the speaker with a faint + smile, that showed appreciation, if not adoration. + </p> + <p> + But I did not gather from his attitude that he did not adore his beautiful + bride-to-be; I only concluded that he was not one to show his feelings in + public. + </p> + <p> + However, I couldn't help feeling that I had learned which of the two was + more anxious for the engagement to continue. + </p> + <p> + “In what way was your uncle more definite in his threat last night, than + he had been heretofore?” the coroner continued. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question she had been dreading + had come at last. She looked at the inexorable face of the butler, she + looked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half-timid glance at Hall, as + she answered, + </p> + <p> + “He said that unless I promised to give up Mr. Hall, he would go last + night to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will drawn up.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he do so?” exclaimed Gregory Hall, an expression almost of fear + appearing on his commonplace face. + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. Apparently his sudden + question had surprised her. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall's remark, but said to Miss Lloyd, + “He had made such threats before, had he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but not with the same determination. He told me in so many words, I + must choose between Mr. Hall or the inheritance of his fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “And your answer to this?” + </p> + <p> + “I made no direct answer. I had told him many times that I had no + intention of breaking my engagement, whatever course he might choose to + pursue.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the turn things were taking. He + already scented a sensation, and he scribbled industriously in his rapidly + filling note-book. + </p> + <p> + This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the jurors on this preliminary + inquest could come to their conclusions without a detailed account of all + these conversations. + </p> + <p> + I also resented the looks of admiration which Mr. Orville cast at the + beautiful girl. It seemed to me that with the exception of Mr. Hamilton + and Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the jurors should have maintained + a formal and impersonal attitude. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamilton spoke directly to Miss Lloyd on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “I am greatly surprised,” he said, “that Mr. Crawford should take such a + stand. He has often spoken to me of you as his heiress, and to my + knowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of immediately recent date.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Miss Lloyd, “but it is only recently that my uncle expressed + his disapprobation so strongly; and last night at dinner was the first + time he positively stated his intention in regard to his will.” + </p> + <p> + At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter conversed together in indignant + whispers, and it was quite evident that they did not approve of Mr. + Crawford's treatment of his niece. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which surprised + me, as I had understood that had it not been for Miss Lloyd, he himself + would have been his brother's heir. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, noncommittal expression, and + Gregory Hall, too, looked absolutely impassive. + </p> + <p> + The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something of definite + import, and asked eagerly, + </p> + <p> + “Did he do so? Did he go to his lawyer's and make another will?” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd's cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the coroner's + excited interest. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know,” she replied. “He went out after dinner, as I have told + you, but I retired to my bedroom before he came home.” + </p> + <p> + “And you did not come down-stairs again last night?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not.” + </p> + <p> + The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made me doubt + their truth. It was not the voice or inflection; there was no hesitation + or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of Miss Lloyd's eyelids + seemed to me to give the lie to her words. + </p> + <p> + I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly raised his + own eyes and looked at her steadily for the first time since her testimony + began. + </p> + <p> + She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler. Either + she had reason to fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. With an endeavor + to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I chanced to look at Parmalee. To + my disgust, he was quite evidently gloating over the disclosures being + made by the witness. I felt my anger rise, and I determined then and there + that if suspicion of guilt or complicity should by any chance unjustly + light on that brave and lovely girl, I would make the effort of my life to + clear her from it. + </p> + <p> + “You did not come down again,” the coroner went on pointedly, “to ask your + uncle if he had changed his will?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I did not,” she replied, with such a ring of truth in her scornful + voice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed her. + </p> + <p> + “Then you were not in your uncle's office last evening at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I was not.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor through the day?” + </p> + <p> + She reflected a moment. “No, nor through the day. It chanced I had no + occasion to go in there yesterday at all.” + </p> + <p> + At these assertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, looked greatly + disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, but it was not at + all difficult to read on his face an endeavor to look undisturbed at what + he heard. + </p> + <p> + I hadn't a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that would + incriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they two had a mutual knowledge of some + fact as yet concealed. + </p> + <p> + I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but the attention + of every one in the room was concentrated on the coroner and the witness, + and so Louis's behavior passed unnoticed. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with some dignity. + </p> + <p> + “It would seem,” he said, “that this concludes Miss Lloyd's evidence in + the matter. She has carried the narrative up to the point where Mr. Joseph + Crawford went out of his house after dinner. As she herself retired to her + room before his return, and did not again leave her room until this + morning, she can have nothing further to tell us bearing on the tragedy. + And as it is doubtless a most painful experience for her, I trust, Mr. + Coroner, that you will excuse her from further questioning.” + </p> + <p> + “But wait a minute,” Parmalee began, when Mr Hamilton interrupted him—“Mr. + Porter is quite right,” he said; “there is no reason why Miss Lloyd should + be further troubled in this matter. I feel free to advise her dismissal + from the witness stand, because of my acquaintance and friendship with + this household. Our coroner and most of our jurors are strangers to Miss + Lloyd, and perhaps cannot appreciate as I do the terrible strain this + experience means to her.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right Hamilton,” said Mr. Philip Crawford; “I was remiss not to + think of it myself. Mr. Monroe, this is not a formal inquest, and in the + interest of kindness and humanity, I ask you to excuse Miss Lloyd from + further questioning for the present.” + </p> + <p> + I was surprised at the requests of these elderly gentlemen, for though it + seemed to me that Miss Lloyd's testimony was complete, yet it also seemed + as if Gregory Hall were the one to show anxiety that she be spared further + annoyance. + </p> + <p> + However, Florence Lloyd spoke for herself. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite willing to answer any further questions,” she said; “I have + answered all you have asked, and I have told you frankly the truth. Though + it is far from pleasant to have my individual affairs thus brought to + notice, I am quite ready to do anything to forward the cause of justice or + to aid in any way the discovery of my uncle's murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Mr. Monroe; “I quite appreciate the extreme + unpleasantness of your position. But, Miss Lloyd, there are a few more + questions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat myself, but I ask you once + more if you did not come down to your uncle's office last evening after he + had returned from his call on Mr. Randolph.” + </p> + <p> + As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her eyes did not turn toward the + coroner, or toward her fiance, or toward the jury, but she looked straight + at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear tones, + </p> + <p> + “I did not.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VI. THE GOLD BAG + </h2> + <p> + “Is this yours?” asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly whisking into sight the + gold-mesh bag. + </p> + <p> + Probably his intent had been to startle her, and thus catch her off her + guard. If so, he succeeded, for the girl was certainly startled, if only + at the suddenness of the query. + </p> + <p> + “N-no,” she stammered; “it's—it's not mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure?” the coroner went on, a little more gently, doubtless moved + by her agitation. + </p> + <p> + “I'm—I'm quite sure. Where did you find it?” + </p> + <p> + “What size gloves do you wear, Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “Number six.” She said this mechanically, as if thinking of something + else, and her face was white. + </p> + <p> + “These are number six,” said the coroner, as he took a pair of gloves from + the bag. “Think again, Miss Lloyd. Do you not own a gold-chain bag, such + as this?” + </p> + <p> + “I have one something like that—or, rather, I did have one.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! And what did you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “I gave it to my maid, Elsa, some days ago.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you do that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was tired of it, and as it was a trifle worn, I had ceased to + care to carry it.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not a somewhat expensive trinket to turn over to your maid?” + </p> + <p> + “No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean mine was not. It was gilt + over silver, and cost only about twelve or fourteen dollars when new.” + </p> + <p> + “What did you usually carry in it?” + </p> + <p> + “What every woman carries in such a bag. Handkerchief, some small change, + perhaps a vanity-box, gloves, tickets—whatever would be needed on an + afternoon's calling or shopping tour.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd, you have enumerated almost exactly the articles in this bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Then that is a coincidence, for it is not my bag.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was entirely self-possessed again, and even a little aggressive. + </p> + <p> + I admit that I did not believe her statements. Of course I could not be + sure she was telling untruths, but her sudden embarrassment at the first + sight of the bag, and the way in which she regained her self-possession, + made me doubt her clear conscience in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside me, whispered: “Striking + coincidence, isn't it?” + </p> + <p> + Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, yet it irritated me horribly + to hear him say it. + </p> + <p> + “But ninety-nine women out of a hundred would experience the same + coincidence,” I returned. + </p> + <p> + “But the other ninety-eight weren't in the house last night, and she was.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had suspected of feeling far deeper + interest than she had so far shown, volunteered a remark. + </p> + <p> + “Of course that isn't Florence's bag,” she said; “if Florence had gone to + her uncle's office last evening, she would have been wearing her dinner + gown, and certainly would not carry a street bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Is this a street bag?” inquired Mr. Monroe, looking with a masculine + helplessness at the gilt bauble. + </p> + <p> + “Of course it is,” said Mrs. Pierce, who now that she had found her voice, + seemed anxious to talk. “Nobody ever carries a bag like that in the house,—in + the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” began Parmalee, “such a thing might have occurred, if Miss Lloyd + had had occasion to go to her uncle's office with, we will say, papers or + notes.” + </p> + <p> + Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, but Mr. Monroe seemed to + take it seriously. + </p> + <p> + “That might be,” he said, and I could see that momentarily the suspicions + against Florence Lloyd were growing in force and were taking definite + shape. + </p> + <p> + As I noted the expressions, on the various faces, I observed that only Mr. + Philip Crawford and the jurors Hamilton and Porter seemed entirely in + sympathy with the girl. The coroner, Parmalee, and even the lawyer, + Randolph, seemed to be willing, almost eager for her to incriminate + herself. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall, who should have been the most sympathetic of all, seemed the + most coldly indifferent, and as for Mrs. Pierce, her actions were so + erratic and uncertain, no one could tell what she thought. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite positive it is not your bag?” repeated the coroner once + more. + </p> + <p> + “I'm positive it is not mine,” returned Miss Lloyd, without undue + emphasis, but with an air of dismissing the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Is your maid present?” asked the coroner. “Let her be summoned.” + </p> + <p> + Elsa came forward, the pretty, timid young girl, of German effects, whom I + had already noticed. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever seen this bag before?” asked the coroner, holding it up + before her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” + </p> + <p> + “This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to me, sir. He said he found it in + Mr. Crawford's office.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. She seemed afraid of the + coroner, of Lambert, of Miss Lloyd, and of the jury. It might have been + merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, but it had the + appearance of some more definite apprehension. + </p> + <p> + Especially did she seem afraid of the man, Louis. Though perhaps the + distressed glances she cast at him were not so much those of fear as of + anxiety. + </p> + <p> + The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really seemed to take more notice of + her embarrassment, and make more effort to put her at her ease than he had + done with Miss Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + “Is it Miss Lloyd's bag?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know? As her personal maid, you must be acquainted with her + belongings.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir. No, it isn't hers, sir.” + </p> + <p> + But as this statement was made after a swift but noticeable glance of + inquiry at her mistress, a slight distrust of Elsa formed in my own mind, + and probably in the minds of others. + </p> + <p> + “She has one like this, has she not?” + </p> + <p> + “She—she did have, sir; but she—she gave it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? Then go and get it and let us see it.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't it now, sir. I—I gave it away.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you get it back?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed for Germany last week.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told against + her. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam as he concluded in his own mind + that the bag story was all false, was made up between mistress and maid, + and that the part about the departing cousin was an artistic touch added + by Elsa. + </p> + <p> + The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present witness, and + he sat thoughtfully snapping the catch of the bag. + </p> + <p> + He turned again to Miss Lloyd. “Having given away your own bag,” he said + suavely, “you have perhaps provided yourself with another, have you not?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no, I haven't,” said Florence Lloyd. “I have been intending to do + so, and shall get one shortly, but I haven't yet selected it.” + </p> + <p> + “And in the meantime you have been getting along without any?” + </p> + <p> + “A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several bags of + other styles, and I'm in no especial haste to purchase a new one.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and her voice + was incisive in its tone. Clearly she resented this discussion of her + personal belongings, and as she entirely repudiated the ownership of the + bag in the coroner's possession, she was annoyed at his questions. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily. + </p> + <p> + “If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd,” he said, with some asperity, “how + did it get on Mr. Crawford's desk late last night? The butler has assured + me it was not there when he looked in at a little after ten o'clock. Yet + this morning it lay there, in plain sight on the desk. Whose bag is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the slightest idea,” said Miss Lloyd firmly; “but, I repeat, + it is not mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe's questions,” said Parmalee in my + ear. “If he can prove this bag to be Miss Lloyd's, it shows that she was + in the office after ten o'clock last night, and this she has denied.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you believe her?” said I. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I don't. Of course she was there, and of course it's her bag. She + put that pretty maid of hers up to deny it, but any one could see the maid + was lying, also.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come now, Parmalee, that's too bad! You've no right to say such + things!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, pshaw! you think the same yourself, only you think it isn't + chivalrous to put it into words.” + </p> + <p> + Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee's speech was its inherent truth. I + didn't believe Florence Lloyd. Much as I wanted to, I couldn't; for the + appearance, manner and words of both women were not such as to inspire + belief in their hearers. + </p> + <p> + If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her ownership of the bag, it + would be hard to prove the contrary, for the men-servants could not be + supposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce would testify as Miss + Lloyd did on any matter. + </p> + <p> + I was sorry not to put more confidence in the truth of the testimony I was + hearing, but I am, perhaps, sceptical by nature. And, too, if Florence + Lloyd were in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, I felt pretty + sure she would not hesitate at untruth. + </p> + <p> + Her marvellous magnetism attracted me strongly, but it did not blind me to + the strength of her nature. While I could not, as yet, believe her in any + way implicated in the death of her uncle, I was fully convinced she knew + more concerning it than she had told and I knew, unless forced to, she + would not tell what she desired to keep secret. + </p> + <p> + My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my duty was plain. As a + detective, I must investigate fairly, or give up the case. + </p> + <p> + At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was the presence of Miss Lloyd + in the office last night, and the two yellow rose petals I had picked up + on the floor might prove a clue. + </p> + <p> + At any rate it was my duty to investigate the point, so taking a card from + my pocket I wrote upon it: “Find out if Miss Lloyd wore any flowers last + evening, and what kind.” + </p> + <p> + I passed this over to Mr. Monroe, and rather enjoyed seeing his + mystification as he read it. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise he did not question Florence Lloyd immediately, but turned + again to the maid. + </p> + <p> + “At what time did your mistress go to her room last evening?” + </p> + <p> + “At about ten o'clock, sir. I was waiting there for her, and so I am + sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Did she at once retire?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. She changed her evening gown for a teagown, and then said she + would sit up for an hour or so and write letters, and I needn't wait.” + </p> + <p> + “You left her then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Miss Lloyd wear any flowers at dinner last evening?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. There were no guests—only the family.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, quite so. But did she, by chance, pin on any flowers after she went + to her room?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes, sir; she did. A box of roses had come for her by a messenger, + and when she found them in her room, she pinned one on the lace of her + teagown.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? And what time did the flowers arrive?” + </p> + <p> + “While Miss Lloyd was at dinner, sir. I took them from the box and put + them in water, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And what sort of flowers were they?” + </p> + <p> + “Yellow roses, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, Elsa. You are excused.” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked bewildered, and a little embarrassed as she returned to + her place among the other servants, and Miss Lloyd looked a little + bewildered also. + </p> + <p> + But then, for that matter, no body understood the reason for the questions + about the flowers, and though most of the jury merely looked + preternaturally wise on the subject, Mr. Orville scribbled it all down in + his little book. I was now glad to see the man keep up his indefatigable + note-taking. If the reporters or stenographers missed any points, I could + surely get them from him. + </p> + <p> + But from the industry with which he wrote, I began to think he must be + composing an elaborate thesis on yellow roses and their habits. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porter, looking greatly puzzled, observed to the coroner, “I have + listened to your inquiries with interest; and I would like to know what, + if any, special importance is attached to this subject of yellow roses.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not able to tell you,” replied Mr. Monroe. “I asked these questions + at the instigation of another, who doubtless has some good reason for + them, which he will explain in due time.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porter seemed satisfied with this, and I nodded my head at the + coroner, as if bidding him to proceed. + </p> + <p> + But if I had been surprised before at the all but spoken intelligence + which passed between the two servants, Elsa and Louis, I was more amazed + now. They shot rapid glances at each other, which were evidently full of + meaning to themselves. Elsa was deathly white, her lips trembled, and she + looked at the Frenchman as if in terror of her life. But though he glanced + at her meaningly, now and then, Louis's anxiety seemed to me to be more + for Florence Lloyd than for her maid. + </p> + <p> + But now the coroner was talking very gravely to Miss Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + “Do you corroborate,” he was saying, “the statements of your maid about + the flowers that were sent you last evening?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “From whom did they come?” + </p> + <p> + “From Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hall,” said, the coroner, turning toward the young man, “how could + you send flowers to Miss Lloyd last evening if you were in New York City?” + </p> + <p> + “Easily,” was the cool reply. “I left Sedgwick on the six o'clock train. + On my way to the station I stopped at a florist's and ordered some roses + sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not arrive until she was at dinner, they + were not sent immediately, as the florist promised.” + </p> + <p> + “When did you receive them, Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “They were in my room when I went up there at about ten o'clock last + evening,” she replied, and her face showed her wonderment at these + explicit questions. + </p> + <p> + The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said: “Perhaps, + Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few questions right here.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly addressed + Florence Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + “When you went up to your room at ten o'clock, the flowers were there?” I + asked, and I felt a most uncomfortable pounding at my heart because of the + trap I was deliberately laying for her. But it had to be done, and even as + I spoke, I experienced a glad realization, that if she were innocent, my + questions could do her no harm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she repeated, and for the first time favored me with a look of + interest. I doubt if she knew my name or scarcely knew why I was there. + </p> + <p> + “And you pinned one on your gown?” + </p> + <p> + “I tucked it in among the laces at my throat, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you did not go down-stairs + again, to your uncle's office?” + </p> + <p> + “I did not,” she repeated, but she turned white, and her voice was scarce + more than a whisper. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said I, “how did two petals of a yellow rose happen to be on the + floor in the office this morning?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VII. YELLOW ROSES + </h2> + <p> + If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint or collapse at this crisis he + must have been disappointed, and as I had confidently expected such a + scene, I was completely surprised at her quick recovery of + self-possession. + </p> + <p> + For an instant she had seemed stunned by my question, and her eyes had + wandered vaguely round the room, as if in a vain search for help. + </p> + <p> + Her glance returned to me, and in that instant I gave her an answering + look, which, quite involuntarily on my part, meant a grave and serious + offer of my best and bravest efforts in her behalf. Disingenuous she might + be, untruthful she might be, yes, even a criminal she might be, but in any + case I was her sworn ally forever. Not that I meant to defeat the ends of + justice, but I was ready to fight for her or with her, until justice + should defeat us. Of course she didn't know all this, though I couldn't + help hoping she read a little of it as my eyes looked into hers. If so, + she recognized it only by a swift withdrawal of her own glance. Again she + looked round at her various friends. + </p> + <p> + Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, though he gave her no + responsive glance, for some reason her poise returned like a flash. It was + as if she had been invigorated by a cold douche. + </p> + <p> + Determination fairly shone in her dark eyes, and her mouth showed a more + decided line than I had yet seen in its red curves, as with a cold, almost + hard voice she replied, + </p> + <p> + “I have no idea. We have many flowers in the house, always.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have learned from the servants that there were no other yellow + roses in the house yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd was not hesitant now. She replied quickly, and it was with an + almost eager haste that she said, + </p> + <p> + “Then I can only imagine that my uncle had some lady visitor in his office + late last evening.” + </p> + <p> + The girl's mood had changed utterly; her tone was almost flippant, and + more than one of the jurors looked at her in wonderment. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porter, especially, cast an her a glance of fatherly solicitude, and I + was sure that he felt, as I did, that the strain was becoming too much for + her. + </p> + <p> + “I don't think you quite mean that, Florence,” he said; “you and I knew + your uncle too well to say such things.” + </p> + <p> + But the girl made no reply, and her beautiful mouth took on a hard line. + </p> + <p> + “It is not an impossible conjecture,” said Philip Crawford thoughtfully. + “If the bag does not belong to Florence, what more probable than that it + was left by its feminine owner? The same lady might have worn or carried + yellow roses.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was because of my own desire to help her that these other men + had joined their efforts to mine to ease the way as much as possible. + </p> + <p> + The coroner looked a little uncomfortable, for he began to note the tide + of sympathy turning toward the troubled girl. + </p> + <p> + “Yellow roses do not necessarily imply a lady visitor,” he said, rather + more kindly. “A man in evening dress might have worn one.” + </p> + <p> + To his evident surprise, as well as to my own, this remark, intended to be + soothing, had quite the opposite effect. + </p> + <p> + “That is not at all probable,” said Miss Lloyd quite angrily. “Mr. Porter + was in the office last evening; if he was wearing a yellow rose at the + time, let him say so.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not,” said Mr. Porter quietly, but looking amazed at the sudden + outburst of the girl. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you weren't!” Miss Lloyd went on, still in the same excited + way. “Men don't wear roses nowadays, except perhaps at a ball; and, + anyway, the gold bag surely implies that a woman was there!” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to,” said Mr. Monroe; and then, unable longer to keep up her + brave resistance, Florence Lloyd fainted. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce wrung her hands and moaned in a helpless fashion. Elsa started + forward to attend her young mistress, but it was the two neighbors who + were jurors, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who carried the unconscious girl + from the room. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall looked concerned, but made no movement to aid, and I + marvelled afresh at such strange actions in a man betrothed to a + particularly beautiful woman. + </p> + <p> + Several women in the audience hurried from the room, and in a few moments + the two jurors returned. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd will soon be all right, I think,” said Mr. Porter to the + coroner. “My wife is with her, and one or two other ladies. I think we may + proceed with our work here.” + </p> + <p> + There was something about Mr. Lemuel Porter that made men accept his + dictum, and without further remark Mr. Monroe called the next witness, Mr. + Roswell Randolph, and a tall man, with an intellectual face, came forward. + </p> + <p> + While the coroner was putting the formal and preliminary questions to Mr. + Randolph, Parmalee quietly drew my attention to a whispered conversation + going on between Elsa and Louis. + </p> + <p> + If this girl had fainted instead of Miss Lloyd, I should not have been + surprised for she seemed on the very verge of nervous collapse. She + seemed, too, to be accusing the man of something, which he vigorously + denied. The girl interested me far more than the Frenchman. Though of the + simple, rosy-cheeked type of German, she had an air of canniness and + subtlety that was at variance with her naive effect. I soon concluded she + was far more clever than most people thought, and Parmalee's whispered + words showed that he thought so too. + </p> + <p> + “Something doing in the case of Dutch Elsa, eh?” he said; “she and Johnny + Frenchy have cooked up something between them.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of any importance, I fancy,” I returned, for Miss Lloyd's swoon + seemed to me a surrender, and I had little hope now of any other direction + in which to look. + </p> + <p> + But I resumed my attention to the coroner's inquiries of Mr. Randolph. + </p> + <p> + In answer to a few formal questions, he stated that he had been Mr. + Crawford's legal adviser for many years, and had entire charge of all such + matters as required legal attention. + </p> + <p> + “Did you draw up the late Mr. Crawford's will?” asked the coroner. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; after the death of his wife—about twelve years ago.” + </p> + <p> + “And what were the terms of that will?” + </p> + <p> + “Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of his fortune was bequeathed to + Miss Florence Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you changed that will in any way, or drawn a later one?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, as the + lawyer gave this answer. + </p> + <p> + It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief and + delight that fairly flooded his countenance. To be sure, it was quickly + suppressed, and his former mask of indifference and preoccupation assumed, + but I knew as well as if he had put it into words, that he had trembled + lest Miss Lloyd had been disinherited before her uncle had met his death + in the night. + </p> + <p> + This gave me many new thoughts, but before I could formulate them, I heard + the coroner going on with his questions. + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Crawford visit you last evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half an hour or more between eight + and nine o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he refer to the subject of changing his will?” + </p> + <p> + “He did. That was his errand. He distinctly stated his intention of making + a new will, and asked me to come to his office this morning and draw up + the instrument.” + </p> + <p> + “But as that cannot now be done, the will in favor of Miss Lloyd still + stands?” + </p> + <p> + “It does,” said Mr. Randolph, “and I am glad of it. Miss Lloyd has been + brought up to look upon this inheritance as her own, and while I would + have used no undue emphasis, I should have tried to dissuade Mr. Crawford + from changing his will.” + </p> + <p> + “But before we consider the fortune or the will, we must proceed with our + task of bringing to light the murderer, and avenging Mr. Crawford's + death.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and that speedily. But I may say, if + allowable, that you are on the wrong track when you allow your suspicions + to tend towards Florence Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course that sentiment has some weight, + but as a man of law, yourself, you must know that such an opinion must be + proved before it can be really conclusive.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course,” said Mr. Randolph, with a deep sigh. “But let me beg of + you to look further in search of other indications before you press too + hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues you now have.” + </p> + <p> + I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it seemed to me that the men of + West Sedgwick were of a fine class as to both intellect and judgment, and + though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, I began to realize that he + had some sterling qualities and was distinctly just and fair in his + decisions. + </p> + <p> + As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great anxiety. + Though still calm and reserved in appearance, he was less nervous, and + quietly awaited further developments. His attitude was not hard to + understand. Mr. Crawford had objected to his secretary's engagement to his + niece, and now Mr. Crawford's objections could no longer matter. Again, it + was not surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn that his fiancee + was the heiress she had supposed herself to he. Even though he were + marrying the girl simply for love of her, a large fortune in addition was + by no means to be despised. At any rate, I concluded that Gregory Hall + thought so. + </p> + <p> + As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. “A fortune-hunter,” he + murmured, with a meaning glance at Hall. + </p> + <p> + I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same thing, and I + thoroughly believed it myself. + </p> + <p> + “Has he any means of his own?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Parmalee, “except his salary, which was a good one from Mr. + Crawford, but of course he's lost that now.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't feel drawn toward him. I suppose one would call him a gentleman + and yet he isn't manly.” + </p> + <p> + “He's a cad,” declared Parmalee; “any fortune hunter is a cad, and I + despise him.” + </p> + <p> + Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr. Hall, I + was conscious of an inclination to despise him myself. But I was also + honest enough to realize that my principal reason for despising him was + because he had won the hand of Florence Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh. + </p> + <p> + Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and really + dreaded to go on with the proceedings, because he was fearful of what + might be disclosed thereby. + </p> + <p> + The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose petals + were not yet satisfactorily accounted for; Miss Lloyd's agitation and + sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising in the circumstances, + were a point in her disfavor. And now the revelation that Mr. Crawford was + actually on the point of disinheriting his niece made it impossible to + ignore the obvious connection between that fact and the event of the + night. + </p> + <p> + But no one had put the thought into words, and none seemed inclined to. + </p> + <p> + Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and Mrs. + Pierce answered. + </p> + <p> + For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as she rose, + I realized that she was a prim little personage, but of such a decided + nature that she might have been stigmatized by the term stubborn. I had + seen such women before; of a certain soft, outward effect, apparently + pliable and amenable, but in reality, deep, shrewd and clever. + </p> + <p> + And yet she was not strong, for the situation in which she found herself + made her trembling and unstrung. + </p> + <p> + When asked by the coroner to tell her own story of the events of the + evening before, she begged that he would question her instead. + </p> + <p> + Desirous of making it as easy for her as possible, Mr. Monroe acceded to + her wishes, and put his questions in a kindly and conversational tone. + </p> + <p> + “You were at dinner last night, with Miss Lloyd and Mr. Crawford?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the almost inaudible reply, and Mrs. Pierce seemed about to + break down at the sad recollection. + </p> + <p> + “You heard the argument between Mr. Crawford and his niece at the dinner + table?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “This resulted in high words on both sides?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by high words. Mr. Crawford + rarely lost his temper and Florence never.” + </p> + <p> + “What then did Mr. Crawford say in regard to disinheriting Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Crawford said clearly, but without recourse to what may be called + high words, that unless Florence would consent to break her engagement he + would cut her off with a shilling.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he use that expression?” + </p> + <p> + “He did at first, when he was speaking more lightly; then when Florence + refused to do as he wished he said he would go that very evening to Mr. + Randolph's and have a new will made which should disinherit Florence, + except for a small annuity.” + </p> + <p> + “And what did Miss Lloyd reply to this threat?” asked the coroner. + </p> + <p> + “She said,” replied Mrs. Pierce, in her plaintive tones, “that her uncle + might do as he chose about that; but she would never give up Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment Gregory Hall looked more manly than I had yet seen him. + </p> + <p> + Though he modestly dropped his eyes at this tacit tribute to his + worthiness, yet he squared his shoulders, and showed a justifiable pride + in the love thus evinced for him. + </p> + <p> + “Was the subject discussed further?” pursued the coroner. + </p> + <p> + “No; nothing more was said about it after that.” + </p> + <p> + “Will the making of a new will by Mr. Crawford affect yourself in any way, + Mrs. Pierce?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” she replied, “Mr. Crawford left me a small bequest in his earlier + will and I had reason to think he would do the same in a later will, even + though he changed his intentions regarding Florence.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd thoroughly believed that he intended to carry out his threat + last evening?” + </p> + <p> + “She didn't say so to me, but Mr. Crawford spoke so decidedly on the + matter, that I think both she and I believed he was really going to carry + out his threat at last.” + </p> + <p> + “When Mr. Crawford left the house, did you and Miss Lloyd know where he + was going?” + </p> + <p> + “We knew no more than he had said at the table. He said nothing when he + went away.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you and Miss Lloyd spend the remainder of the evening?” + </p> + <p> + “It was but a short evening. We sat in the music-room for a time, but at + about ten o'clock we both went up to our rooms.” + </p> + <p> + “Had Mr. Crawford returned then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he came in perhaps an hour earlier. We heard him come in at the + front door, and go at once to his office.” + </p> + <p> + “You did not see him, or speak to him?” + </p> + <p> + “We did not. He had a caller during the evening. It was Mr. Porter, I have + since learned.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Miss Lloyd express no interest as to whether he had changed his will + or not?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd didn't mention the will, or her engagement, to me at all. We + talked entirely of other matters.” + </p> + <p> + “Was Miss Lloyd in her usual mood or spirits?” + </p> + <p> + “She seemed a little quiet, but not at all what you might call worried.” + </p> + <p> + “Was not this strange when she was fully expecting to be deprived of her + entire fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “It was not strange for Miss Lloyd. She rarely talks of her own affairs. + We spent an evening similar in all respects to our usual evening when we + do not have guests.” + </p> + <p> + “And you both went upstairs at ten. Was that unusually early for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, unless we have guests, we often go at ten or half-past ten.” + </p> + <p> + “And did you see Miss Lloyd again that night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; about half an hour later, I went to her room for a book I wanted.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd had not retired?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she asked me to sit down for awhile and chat.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you do so?” + </p> + <p> + “Only for a few moments. I was interested in the book I had come for, and + I wanted to take it away to my own room to read.” + </p> + <p> + “And Miss Lloyd, then, did not seem dispirited or in any way in an unusual + mood?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that I noticed. I wasn't quizzing her or looking into her eyes to see + what her thoughts were, for it didn't occur to me to do so. I knew her + uncle had dealt her a severe blow, but as she didn't open the subject, of + course I couldn't discuss it with her. But I did think perhaps she wanted + to be by herself to consider the matter, and that was one reason why I + didn't stay and chat as she had asked me to.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she really wanted to discuss the matter with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps she did; but in that case she should have said so. Florence knows + well enough that I am always ready to discuss or sympathize with her in + any matter, but I never obtrude my opinions. So as she said nothing to + lead me to think she wanted to talk to me especially, I said good-night to + her.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY + </h2> + <p> + “Did you happen to notice, Mrs. Pierce, whether Miss Lloyd was wearing a + yellow rose when you saw her in her room?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce hesitated. She looked decidedly embarrassed, and seemed + disinclined to answer. But she might have known that to hesitate and show + embarrassment was almost equivalent to an affirmative answer to the + coroner's question. At last she replied, + </p> + <p> + “I don't know; I didn't notice.” + </p> + <p> + This might have been a true statement, but I think no one in the room + believed it. The coroner tried again. + </p> + <p> + “Try to think, Mrs. Pierce. It is important that we should know if Miss + Lloyd was wearing a yellow rose.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” flared out Mrs. Pierce angrily, “so that you can prove she went + down to her uncle's office later and dropped a piece of her rose there! + But I tell you I don't remember whether she was wearing a rose or not, and + it wouldn't matter if she had on forty roses! If Florence Lloyd says she + didn't go down-stairs, she didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we all believe in Miss Lloyd's veracity,” said Mr. Monroe, “but + it is necessary to discover where those rose petals in the library came + from. You saw the flowers in her room, Mrs. Pierce?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I believe I did. But I paid no attention to them, as Florence nearly + always has flowers in her room.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you have heard Miss Lloyd if she had gone down-stairs after you + left her?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Mrs. Pierce, doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Is your room next to hers?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not next.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it on the same corridor?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Around a corner?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “And at some distance?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Mrs. Pierce's answers became more hesitating as she saw the drift + of Mr. Monroe's questions. Clearly, she was trying to shield Florence, if + necessary, at the expense of actual truthfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” went on Mr. Monroe, inexorably, “I understand you to say that you + think you would have heard Miss Lloyd, had she gone down-stairs, although + your room is at a distance and around a corner and the hall and stairs are + thickly carpeted. Unless you were listening especially, Mrs. Pierce, I + think you would scarcely have heard her descend.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as she didn't go down, of course I didn't hear her,” snapped Mrs. + Pierce, with the feminine way of settling an argument by an unprovable + statement. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Monroe began on another tack. + </p> + <p> + “When you went to Miss Lloyd's room,” he said, “was the maid, Elsa, + there?” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd had just dismissed her for the night.” + </p> + <p> + “What was Miss Lloyd doing when you went to her room?” + </p> + <p> + “She was looking over some gowns that she proposed sending to the + cleaner's.” + </p> + <p> + The coroner fairly jumped. He remembered the newspaper clipping of a + cleaner's advertisement, which was even now in the gold bag before him. + Though all the jurors had seen it, it had not been referred to in the + presence of the women. + </p> + <p> + Recovering himself at once, he said quietly “Was not that rather work for + Miss Lloyd's maid?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Elsa would pack and send them, of course,” said Mrs. Pierce + carelessly. “Miss Lloyd was merely deciding which ones needed cleaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know where they were to be sent?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce looked a little surprised at this question. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd always sends her things to Carter & Brown's,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Now, Carter & Brown was the firm name on the advertisement, and it was + evident at once that the coroner considered this a damaging admission. + </p> + <p> + He sat looking greatly troubled, but before he spoke again, Mr. Parmalee + made an observation that decidedly raised that young man in my estimation. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, “that's pretty good proof that the gold bag doesn't + belong to Miss Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” asked the coroner, who had thought quite the contrary. + </p> + <p> + “Why, if Miss Lloyd always sends her goods to be cleaned to Carter & + Brown, why would she need to cut their address from a newspaper and save + it?” + </p> + <p> + At first I thought the young man's deduction distinctly clever, but on + second thought I wasn't so sure. Miss Lloyd might have wanted that address + for a dozen good reasons. To my mind, it proved neither her ownership of + the gold bag, nor the contrary. + </p> + <p> + In fact, I thought the most important indication that the bag might be + hers lay in the story Elsa told about the cousin who sailed to Germany. + Somehow that sounded untrue to me, but I was more than willing to believe + it if I could. + </p> + <p> + I longed for Fleming Stone, who, I felt sure, could learn from the bag and + its contents the whole truth about the crime and the criminal. + </p> + <p> + But I had been called to take charge of the case, and my pride forbade me + to call on any one for help. + </p> + <p> + I had scorned deductions from inanimate objects, but I resolved to study + that bag again, and study it more minutely. Perhaps there were some + threads or shreds caught in its meshes that might point to its owner. I + remembered a detective story I read once, in which the whole discovery of + the criminal depended on identifying a few dark blue woollen threads which + were found in a small pool of candle grease on a veranda roof. As it + turned out, they were from the trouser knee of a man who had knelt there + to open a window. The patent absurdity of leaving threads from one's + trouser knee, amused me very much, but the accommodating criminals in + fiction almost always leave threads or shreds behind them. And surely a + gold-mesh bag, with its thousands of links would be a fine trap to catch + some threads of evidence, however minute they might be. + </p> + <p> + Furthermore I decided to probe further into that yellow rose business. I + was not at all sure that those petals I found on the floor had anything to + do with Miss Lloyd's roses, but it must be a question possible of + settlement, if I went about it in the right way. At any rate, though I had + definite work ahead of me, my duty just now was to listen to the + forthcoming evidence, though I could not help thinking I could have put + questions more to the point than Mr. Monroe did. + </p> + <p> + Of course the coroner's inquest was not formally conducted as a trial by + jury would be, and so any one spoke, if he chose, and the coroner seemed + really glad when suggestions were offered him. + </p> + <p> + At this point Philip Crawford rose. + </p> + <p> + “It is impossible,” he said, “not to see whither these questions are + tending. But you are on the wrong tack, Mr. Coroner. No matter how + evidence may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd's association with this + crime, it is only seeming. That gold bag might have been hers and it might + not. But if she says it isn't, why, then it isn't! Notwithstanding the + state of affairs between my brother and his niece, there is not the shadow + of a possibility that the young woman is implicated in the slightest + degree, and the sooner you leave her name out of consideration, and turn + your search into other channels, the sooner you will find the real + criminal.” + </p> + <p> + It was not so much the words of Philip Crawford, as the sincere way in + which they were spoken, that impressed me. Surely he was right; surely + this beautiful girl was neither principal nor accessory in the awful crime + which, by a strange coincidence, gave to her her fortune and her lover. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Crawford's right,” said Lemuel Porter. “If this jury allows itself to + be misled by a gold purse and two petals of a yellow rose, we are unworthy + to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, the long French windows in the + office were open, or, at least, unfastened all through the night. We have + that from the butler's testimony. He didn't lock them last night; they + were found unlocked this morning. Therefore, I hold that an intruder, + either man or woman, may have come in during the night, accomplished the + fatal deed, and departed without any one being the wiser. That this + intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the bag she left behind her. For, as + Mr. Crawford has said, if Miss Lloyd denies the ownership of that bag, it + is not hers.” + </p> + <p> + After all, these declarations were proof, of a sort. If Mr. Porter and Mr. + Philip Crawford, who had known Florence Lloyd for years, spoke thus + positively of her innocence, it could not be doubted. + </p> + <p> + And then the voice of Parmalee again sounded in my ears. + </p> + <p> + “Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford would stand up for Miss Lloyd; it + would be strange if they didn't. And of course, Mrs. Pierce will do all + she can to divert suspicion. But the evidences are against her.” + </p> + <p> + “They only seem to be,” I corrected. “Until we prove the gold bag and the + yellow rose to be hers; there is no evidence against her at all.” + </p> + <p> + “She also had motive and opportunity. Those two points are of quite as + much importance as evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “She had motive and opportunity,” I agreed, “but they were not exclusive. + As Mr. Porter pointed out, the open windows gave opportunity that was + world wide; and as to motive, how are we to know who had or who hadn't + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You're right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too positive of Miss Lloyd's + implication in the matter, but I'm quite willing to be convinced to the + contrary.” + </p> + <p> + The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course not audible to any one save + myself. But the speeches which had been made by Mr. Crawford and Mr. + Porter, and which, strange to say, amounted to an arraignment and a + vindication almost in the same breath, had a decided effect upon the + assembly. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory Hall looked startled, as if + the mere idea of Miss Lloyd's implication was a new thought to him. Lawyer + Randolph looked considerably disturbed, and I at once suspected that his + legal mind would not allow him to place too much dependence on the + statements of the girl's sympathetic friends. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors whom I liked, seemed to be + thoughtfully weighing the evidence. He was not so well acquainted with + Miss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in her behalf, and he made a + remark somewhat diffidently. + </p> + <p> + “I agree,” he said, “with the sentiments just expressed; but I also think + that we should endeavor to find some further clues or evidence. Had Mr. + Crawford any enemies who would come at night to kill him? Or are there any + valuables missing? Could robbery have been the motive?” + </p> + <p> + “It does not seem so,” replied the coroner. “Nothing is known to be + missing. Mr. Crawford's watch and pocket money were not disturbed.” + </p> + <p> + “The absence of the weapon is a strange factor in the case,” put in Mr. + Orville, apparently desirous of having his voice heard as well as those of + the other jurors. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” agreed Mr. Monroe; “and yet it is not strange that the criminal + carried away with him what might have been a proof of his identity.” + </p> + <p> + “Does Miss Lloyd own a pistol?” blurted out Mr. Parmalee. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall gave him an indignant look, but Coroner Monroe seemed rather + glad to have the question raised—probably so that it could be settle + at once in the negative. + </p> + <p> + And it was. + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Mrs. Pierce, when the query was put to her. “Both Florence + and I are desperately afraid of firearms. We wouldn't dream of owning a + pistol—either of us.” + </p> + <p> + Of course, this was significant, but in no way decisive. Granting that + Miss Lloyd could have been the criminal, it would have been possible for + her secretly to procure a revolver, and secretly to dispose of it + afterward. Then, too, a small revolver had been used. To be sure, this did + not necessarily imply that a woman had used it, but, taken in connection + with the bag and the rose petals, it gave food for thought. + </p> + <p> + But the coroner seemed to think Mrs. Pierce's assertions greatly in Miss + Lloyd's favor, and, being at the end of his list of witnesses, he inquired + if any one else in the room knew of anything that could throw light on the + matter. + </p> + <p> + No one responded to this invitation, and the coroner then directed the + jury to retire to find a verdict. The six men passed into another room, + and I think no one who awaited their return apprehended any other result + than the somewhat unsatisfactory one of “person or persons unknown.” + </p> + <p> + And this was what the foreman announced when the jury returned after their + short collocation. + </p> + <p> + Then, as a jury, they were dismissed, but from that moment the mystery of + Joseph Crawford's death became the absorbing thought of all West Sedgwick. + </p> + <p> + “The murderer of my brother shall be found and brought to justice!” + declared Philip Crawford, and all present seemed to echo his vow. + </p> + <p> + Then and there, Mr. Crawford retained Lawyer Randolph to help him in + running down the villain, and, turning to me, asked to engage my services + also. + </p> + <p> + To this, I readily agreed, for I greatly desired to go on with the matter, + and cared little whether I worked for an individual or for the State. + </p> + <p> + Of course Mr. Crawford's determination to find the murderer proved anew + his conviction that Florence Lloyd was above all suspicion, but in the + face of certain details of the evidence so far, I could not feel so + absolutely certain of this. + </p> + <p> + However, it was my business to follow up every clue, or apparent clue, and + every bit of evidence, and this I made up my mind to do, regardless of + consequences. + </p> + <p> + I confess it was difficult for me to feel regardless of consequences, for + I had a haunting fear that the future was going to look dark for Florence + Lloyd. And if it should be proved that she was in any way responsible for + or accessory to this crime, I knew I should wish I had had nothing to do + with discovering that fact. But back of this was an undefined but + insistent conviction that the girl was innocent, and that I could prove + it. This may have been an inordinate faith in my own powers, or it may + have been a hope born of my admiration for the young woman herself. For + there is no doubt, that for the first time in my life I was taking a + serious interest in a woman's personality. Heretofore I had been a general + admirer of womankind, and I had naturally treated them all with chivalry + and respect. But now I had met one whom I desired to treat in a far + tenderer way, and to my chagrin I realized that I had no right to + entertain such thoughts toward a girl already betrothed. + </p> + <p> + So I concluded to try my best to leave Florence Lloyd's personality out of + the question, to leave my feelings toward her out of the question, and to + devote my energies to real work on the case and prove by intelligent + effort that I could learn facts from evidence without resorting to the + microscopic methods of Fleming Stone. I purposely ignored the fact that I + would have been only too glad to use these methods had I the power to do + so! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE + </h2> + <p> + For the next day or two the Crawford house presented the appearance usual + in any home during the days immediately preceding a funeral. + </p> + <p> + By tacit consent, all reference to the violence of Mr. Crawford's death + was avoided, and a rigorous formality was the keynote of all the + ceremonies. The servants were garbed in correct mourning, the ladies of + the house refused to see anybody, and all personal callers were met by + Philip Crawford or his wife, while business acquaintances were received by + Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + As private secretary, of course Mr. Hall was in full charge of Mr. + Crawford's papers and personal effects. But, in addition to this, as the + prospective husband of the heiress, he was practically the head of the + house. + </p> + <p> + He showed no elation or ostentation at this state of affairs, but carried + himself with an air of quiet dignity, tinged with a suggestion of sadness, + which, if merely conventional, seemed none the less sincere. + </p> + <p> + I soon learned that the whole social atmosphere of West Sedgwick was one + of extreme formality, and everything was done in accordance with the most + approved conventions. Therefore, I found I could get no chance for a + personal conversation with Miss Lloyd until after the funeral. + </p> + <p> + I had, however, more or less talk with Gregory Hall, and as I became + acquainted with him, I liked him less. + </p> + <p> + He was of a cold and calculating disposition, and when we were alone, he + did not hesitate to gloat openly over his bright prospects. + </p> + <p> + “Terrible thing, to be put out of existence like that,” he said, as we sat + in Mr. Crawford's office, looking over some papers; “but it solved a big + problem for Florence and me. However, we'll be married as soon as we + decently can, and then we'll go abroad, and forget the tragic part of it + all.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you haven't a glimmer of a suspicion as to who did it,” I + ventured. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't. Not the faintest notion. But I wish you could find out. Of + course, nobody holds up that bag business as against Florence, but—it's + uncomfortable all the same. I wish I'd been here that night. I'm 'most + sure I'd have heard a shot, or something.” + </p> + <p> + “Where were you?” I said, in a careless tone. + </p> + <p> + Hall drew himself up stiffly. “Excuse me,” he said. “I declined to answer + that question before. Since I was not in West Sedgwick, it can matter to + no one where I was.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that's all right,” I returned affably, for I had no desire to get his + ill will. “But of course we detectives have to ask questions. By the way, + where did you buy Miss Lloyd's yellow roses?” + </p> + <p> + “See here,” said Gregory Hall, with a petulant expression, “I don't want + to be questioned. I'm not on the witness-stand, and, as I've told you, I'm + uncomfortable already about these so-called `clues' that seem to implicate + Miss Lloyd. So, if you please, I'll say nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I responded, “just as you like.” + </p> + <p> + I went away from the house, thinking how foolish people could be. I could + easily discover where he bought the roses, as there were only three + florists' shops in West Sedgwick and I resolved to go at once to hunt up + the florist who sold them. + </p> + <p> + Assuming he would naturally go to the shop nearest the railroad station, + and which was also on the way from the Crawford house, I went there first, + and found my assumption correct. + </p> + <p> + The florist was more than willing to talk on the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he said; “I sold those roses to Mr. Hall—sold 'em to him + myself. He wanted something extra nice, and I had just a dozen of those + big yellow beauties. No, I don't raise my own flowers. I get 'em from the + city. And so I had just that dozen, and I sent 'em right up. Well, there + was some delay, for two of my boys were out to supper, and I waited for + one to get back.” + </p> + <p> + “And you had no other roses just like these in stock?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Hadn't had for a week or more. Haven't any now. May not get any + more at all. They're a scarce sort, at best, and specially so this year.” + </p> + <p> + “And you sent Miss Lloyd the whole dozen?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; twelve. I like to put in an extra one or two when I can, but + that time I couldn't. There wasn't another rose like them short of New + York City.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked the florist, and, guessing that he was not above it, I gave him + a more material token of my gratitude for his information, and then walked + slowly back to my room at the inn. + </p> + <p> + Since there were no other roses of that sort in West Sedgwick that + evening, it seemed to me as if Florence Lloyd must have gone down to her + uncle's office after having pinned the blossom on her bodice. The only + other possibility was that some intruder had entered by way of the French + window wearing or carrying a similar flower, and that this intruder had + come from New York, or at least from some place other than West Sedgwick. + It was too absurd. Murderers don't go about decked with flowers, and yet + at midnight a man in evening dress was not impossible, and evening dress + might easily imply a boutonniere. + </p> + <p> + Well, this well-dressed man I had conjured up in my mind must have come + from out of town, or else whence the flower, after all? + </p> + <p> + And then I bethought myself of that late newspaper. An extra, printed + probably as late as eleven o'clock at night, must have been brought out to + West Sedgwick by a traveller on some late train. Why not Gregory Hall, + himself? I let my imagination run riot for a minute. Mr. Hall refused to + say where he was on the night of the murder. Why not assume that he had + come out from New York, in evening dress, at or about midnight? This would + account for the newspaper and the yellow rose petals, for, if he bought a + boutonniere in the city, how probable he would select the same flower he + had just sent his fiancee. + </p> + <p> + I rather fancied the idea of Gregory Hall as the criminal. He had the same + motive as Miss Lloyd. He knew of her uncle's objection to their union, and + his threat of disinheritance. How easy for him to come out late from New + York, on a night when he was not expected, and remove forever the obstacle + to his future happiness! + </p> + <p> + I drew myself up with a start. This was not detective work. This was mere + idle speculation. I must shake it off, and set about collecting some real + evidence. + </p> + <p> + But the thought still clung to me; mere speculation it might be, but it + was founded on the same facts that already threw suspicion on Florence + Lloyd. With the exception of the gold bag—and that she disclaimed—such + evidence as I knew of pointed toward Mr. Hall as well as toward Miss + Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + However at present I was on the trail of those roses, and I determined to + follow that trail to a definite end. I went back to the Crawford house and + as I did not like to ask for Miss Lloyd, I asked for Mrs. Pierce. + </p> + <p> + She came down to the drawing room, and greeted me rather more cordially + than I had dared to hope. I had a feeling that both ladies resented my + presence there, for so many women have a prejudice against detectives. + </p> + <p> + But though nervous and agitated, Mrs. Pierce spoke to me kindly. + </p> + <p> + “Did you want to see me for anything in particular, Mr. Burroughs?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce,” I replied; “I may as well tell you frankly that + I want to find out all I can about those yellow roses.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure you, Mr. + Burroughs, they're of no importance whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “That is not for you to decide,” I said quietly, and I began to see that + perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be the best way to manage this lady. + “Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss Lloyd's room? If so I wish to + see them.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and if so I'll + bring them down.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” I said, “I will go with you to see them.” + </p> + <p> + “But Florence may be in her room.” + </p> + <p> + “So much the better. She can tell me anything I wish to know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please don't interview her! I'm sure she wouldn't want to talk with + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, and I will go there with you + now.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too far or had + overstepped my authority. But it was surely my duty to learn all I could + about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising of suggestions as her own + room? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and affably enough she asked me to + accompany her to Miss Lloyd's room. + </p> + <p> + I did so, and after entering devoted my whole attention to the bunch of + yellow roses, which in a glass vase stood on the window seat. Although + somewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and without the slightest + doubt were the kind of rose from which the two tell-tale petals had + fallen. + </p> + <p> + Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. There were nine, each one + seemingly with its full complement of petals, though of this I could not + be perfectly certain. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs.—Pierce,” I said, turning to her with an air of authority + which was becoming difficult to maintain, “where are the roses which Miss + Lloyd admits having pinned to her gown?” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy! I don't know,” exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, looking bewildered. “I + suppose she threw them away.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose she did,” I returned; “would she not be likely to throw them in + the waste basket?” + </p> + <p> + “She might,” returned Mrs. Pierce, turning toward an ornate affair of + wicker-work and pink ribbons. + </p> + <p> + Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps of paper, were two + exceedingly withered yellow roses. I picked them out and examined them, + but in their present state it was impossible to tell whether they had lost + any petals or not, so I threw them back in the basket. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence or deduction in the + matter, but began to lament the carelessness of the chambermaid who had + not emptied the waste basket the day before. + </p> + <p> + But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, and began pondering on this + new development of the rose question. The nine roses in the vase and the + two in the basket made but eleven, and the florist had told me that he had + sent a dozen. Where was the twelfth? + </p> + <p> + The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd might have put away one as a + sentimental souvenir, but to my mind she did not seem the kind of a girl + to do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, for what man can predicate + what a woman will do? but at the same time I could not seem to imagine the + statuesque, imperial Miss Lloyd tenderly preserving a rose that her lover + had given her. + </p> + <p> + But might not Gregory Hall have taken one of the dozen for himself before + sending the rest? This was merely surmise, but it was a possibility, and + at any rate the twelfth rose was not in Miss Lloyd's room. + </p> + <p> + Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be reckoned with, a bit of + evidence to be found; and I determined to find it. + </p> + <p> + I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an interview with Miss Lloyd, but + the elder lady seemed doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “I'm quite sure she won't see you,” she said, “for she has declared she + will see no one until after the funeral. But if you want me to ask her + anything for you, I will do so.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, surprised at her willingness; “please ask Miss Lloyd + if she knows what became of the twelfth yellow rose; and beg her to + appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in the case.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went down the stairs she promised + to join me in the library a few moments later. + </p> + <p> + She kept her promise, and I waited eagerly her report. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd bids me tell you,” she said, “that she knows nothing of what + you call the twelfth rose. She did not count the roses, she merely took + two of them to pin on her dress, and when she retired, she carelessly + threw those two in the waste basket. She thinks it probable there were + only eleven in the box when it arrived. But at any rate she knows nothing + more of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + I thanked Mrs. Pierce for her courtesy and patience, and feeling that I + now had a real problem to consider, I started back to the inn. + </p> + <p> + It could not be that this rose matter was of no importance. For the + florist had assured me he had sold exactly twelve flowers to Mr. Gregory + Hall, and of these, I could account for only eleven. The twelfth rose must + have been separated from the others, either by Mr. Hall, at the time of + purchase, or by some one else later. If the petals found on the floor fell + from that twelfth rose, and if Florence Lloyd spoke the truth when she + declared she knew nothing of it, then she was free from suspicion in that + direction. + </p> + <p> + But until I could make some further effort to find out about the missing + rose I concluded to say nothing of it to anybody. I was not bound to tell + Parmalee any points I might discover, for though colleagues, we were + working independently of each other. + </p> + <p> + But as I was anxious to gather any side lights possible, I determined to + go for a short conference with the district attorney, in whose hands the + case had been put after the coroner's inquest. + </p> + <p> + He was a man named Goodrich, a quiet mannered, untalkative person, and as + might be expected he had made little or no progress as yet. + </p> + <p> + He said nothing could be done until after the funeral and the reading of + the will, which ceremonies would occur the next afternoon. + </p> + <p> + I talked but little to Mr. Goodrich, yet I soon discovered that he + strongly suspected Miss Lloyd of the crime, either as principal or + accessory. + </p> + <p> + “But I can't believe it,” I objected. “A girl, delicately brought up, in + refined and luxurious surroundings, does not deliberately commit an + atrocious crime.” + </p> + <p> + “A woman thwarted in her love affair will do almost anything,” declared + Mr. Goodrich. “I have had more experience than you, my boy, and I advise + you not to bank too much on the refined and luxurious surroundings. + Sometimes such things foster crime instead of preventing it. But the truth + will come out, and soon, I think. The evidence that seems to point to Miss + Lloyd can be easily proved or disproved, once we get at the work in + earnest. That coroner's jury was made up of men who were friends and + neighbors of Mr. Crawford. They were so prejudiced by sympathy for Miss + Lloyd, and indignation at the unknown criminal, that they couldn't give + unbiased judgment. But we will yet see justice done. If Miss Lloyd is + innocent, we can prove it. But remember the provocation she was under. + Remember the opportunity she had, to visit her uncle alone in his office, + after every one else in the house was asleep. Remember that she had a + motive—a strong motive—and no one else had.” + </p> + <p> + “Except Mr. Gregory Hall,” I said meaningly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I grant he had the same motive. But he is known to have left town at + six that evening, and did not return until nearly noon the next day. That + lets him out.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, unless he came back at midnight, and then went back to the city + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Mr. Goodrich. “That's fanciful. Why, the latest train—the + theatre train, as we call it—gets in at one o'clock, and it's always + full of our society people returning from gayeties in New York. He would + have been seen had he come on that train, and there is no later one.” + </p> + <p> + I didn't stay to discuss the matter further. Indeed, Mr. Goodrich had made + me feel that my theories were fanciful. + </p> + <p> + But whatever my theories might be there were still facts to be + investigated. + </p> + <p> + Remembering my determination to examine that gold bag more thoroughly I + asked Mr. Goodrich to let me see it, for of course, as district attorney, + it was now in his possession. + </p> + <p> + He gave it to me with an approving nod. “That's the way to work,” he said. + “That bag is your evidence. Now from that, you detectives must go ahead + and learn the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose bag is it?” I said, with the intention of drawing him out. + </p> + <p> + “It's Miss Lloyd's bag,” he said gravely. “Any woman in the world would + deny its ownership, in the existing circumstances, and I am not surprised + that she did so. Nor do I blame her for doing so. Self preservation is a + mighty strong impulse in the human heart, and we've all got a right to + obey it.” + </p> + <p> + As I took the gold bag from his hand, I didn't in the least believe that + Florence Lloyd was the owner of it, and I resolved anew to prove this to + the satisfaction of everybody concerned. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goodrich turned away and busied himself about other matters, and I + devoted myself to deep study. + </p> + <p> + The contents of the bag proved as blank and unsuggestive as ever. The most + exhaustive examination of its chain, its clasp and its thousands of links + gave me not the tiniest thread or shred of any sort. + </p> + <p> + But as I poked and pried around in its lining I found a card, which had + slipped between the main lining and an inside pocket. + </p> + <p> + I drew it out as carefully as I could, and it proved to be a small plain + visiting card bearing the engraved name, “Mrs. Egerton Purvis.” + </p> + <p> + I sat staring at it, and then furtively glanced at Mr. Goodrich. He was + not observing me, and I instinctively felt that I did not wish him to know + of the card until I myself had given the matter further thought. + </p> + <p> + I returned the card to its hiding place and returned the bag to Mr. + Goodrich, after which I went away. + </p> + <p> + I had not copied the name, for it was indelibly photographed upon my + brain. As I walked along the street I tried to construct the personality + of Mrs. Egerton Purvis from her card. But I was able to make no rational + deductions, except that the name sounded aristocratic, and was quite in + keeping with the general effect of the bag and its contents. + </p> + <p> + To be sure I might have deduced that she was a lady of average height and + size, because she wore a number six glove; that she was careful of her + personal appearance, because she possessed a vanity case; that she was of + tidy habits, because she evidently expected to send her gowns to be + cleaned. But all these things seemed to me puerile and even ridiculous, as + such characteristics would apply to thousands of woman all over the + country. + </p> + <p> + Instead of this, I went straight to the telegraph office and wired to + headquarters in a cipher code. I instructed them to learn the identity and + whereabouts of Mrs. Egerton Purvis, and advise me as soon as possible. + </p> + <p> + Then I returned to the Sedgwick Arms, feeling decidedly well satisfied + with my morning's work, and content to wait until after Mr. Crawford's + funeral to do any further real work in the matter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + X. THE WILL + </h2> + <p> + I went to the Crawford house on the day of the funeral; but as I reached + there somewhat earlier than the hour appointed, I went into the office + with the idea of looking about for further clues. + </p> + <p> + In the office I found Gregory Hall; looking decidedly disturbed. + </p> + <p> + “I can't find Mr. Crawford's will,” he said, as he successively looked + through one drawer after another. + </p> + <p> + “What!” I responded. “Hasn't that been located already?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it's this way: I didn't see it here in this office, or in the New + York office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had it in his possession. But it + seems he thought it was here, all the time. Only this morning we + discovered our mutual error, and Mr. Randolph concluded it must be in Mr. + Crawford's safety deposit box at the bank in New York. So Mr. Philip + Crawford hurried through his administration papers—he is to be + executor of the estate—and went in to get it from the bank. But he + has just returned with the word that it wasn't there. So we've no idea + where it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, well,” said I, “since he hadn't yet made the new will he had in mind, + everything belongs to Miss Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just the point,” said Hall, his face taking on a despairing look. + “If we don't find that will, she gets nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “How's that?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece of Joseph + Crawford's wife. So in the absence of a will his property will all go to + his brother Philip, who is his legal heir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho!” I exclaimed. “This is a new development. But the will will turn + up.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I'm sure of it,” returned Hall, but his anxious face showed + anything but confidence in his own words. + </p> + <p> + “But,” I went on, “didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's giving + all his fortune to Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford's + determination. And I fancy Philip didn't make any great disturbance about + it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as he chose with his own, and + the will gave Philip a nice little sum, any way. Not much, compared to the + whole fortune, but, still, a generous bequest.” + </p> + <p> + “What does Mr. Randolph say?” + </p> + <p> + “He's completely baffled. He doesn't know what to think.” + </p> + <p> + “Can it have been stolen?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed it because + he expected to make a different one. In that case, Florence is penniless, + save for such bounty as Philip Crawford chooses to bestow on her.” + </p> + <p> + I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was distinctly + aggrieved, and gave the impression that Florence Lloyd, penniless, was of + far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the heiress of her uncle's millions. + </p> + <p> + “But he would doubtless provide properly for her,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself in a very different + position, dependent on his generosity, from what she would be as sole heir + to her uncle's fortune.” + </p> + <p> + I looked steadily at the man. Although not well acquainted with him, I + couldn't resist giving expression to my thought. + </p> + <p> + “But since you are to marry her,” I said, “she need not long be dependent + upon her uncle's charity.” + </p> + <p> + “Philip Crawford isn't really her uncle, and no one can say what he will + do in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall was evidently greatly disturbed at the new situation brought + about by the disappearance of Mr. Crawford's will. But apparently the main + reason for his disturbance was the impending poverty of his fiancee. There + was no doubt that Mr. Carstairs and others who had called this man a + fortune-hunter had judged him rightly. + </p> + <p> + However, without further words on the subject, I waited while Hall locked + the door of the office, and then we went together to the great + drawing-room, where the funeral services were about to take place. + </p> + <p> + I purposely selected a position from which I could see the faces of the + group of people most nearly connected with the dead man. I had a strange + feeling, as I looked at them, that one of them might be the instrument of + the crime which had brought about this funeral occasion. + </p> + <p> + During the services I looked closely and in turn at each face, but beyond + the natural emotions of grief which might be expected, I could read + nothing more. + </p> + <p> + The brother, Philip Crawford, the near neighbors, Mr. Porter and Mr. + Hamilton, the lawyer, Mr. Randolph, all sat looking grave and solemn as + they heard the last words spoken above their dead friend. The ladies of + the household, quietly controlling their emotions, sat near me, and next + to Florence Lloyd Gregory Hall had seated himself. + </p> + <p> + All of these people I watched closely, half hoping that some inadvertent + sign might tell me of someone's knowledge of the secret. But when the + clergyman referred to the retribution that would sooner or later overtake + the criminal. I could see an expression of fear or apprehension on no face + save that of Florence Lloyd. She turned even whiter than before, her pale + lips compressed in a straight line, and her small black gloved hand softly + crept into that of Gregory Hall. The movement was not generally + noticeable, but it seemed to me pathetic above all things. Whatever her + position in the matter, she was surely appealing to him for help and + protection. + </p> + <p> + Without directly repulsing her, Hall was far from responsive. He allowed + her hand to rest in his own but gave her no answering pressure, and looked + distinctly relieved when, after a moment, she withdrew it. + </p> + <p> + I saw that Parmalee also had observed this, and I could see that to him it + was an indication of the girl's perturbed spirit. To me it seemed that it + might equally well mean many other things. For instance it might mean her + apprehension for Gregory Hall, who, I couldn't help thinking was far more + likely to be a wrongdoer than the girl herself. + </p> + <p> + With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean much information from the + present opportunity, and contented myself with the melancholy pleasure it + gave me simply to look at the sad sweet face of the girl who was already + enshrined in my heart. + </p> + <p> + After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies were over, a little + assembly gathered in the library to hear the reading of the will. + </p> + <p> + As, until then, no one had known of the disappearance of the will, except + the lawyer and the secretary, it came as a thunderbolt. + </p> + <p> + “I have no explanation to offer,” said Mr. Randolph, looking greatly + concerned, but free of all personal responsibility. “Mr. Crawford always + kept the will in his own possession. When he came to see me, the last + evening he was alive, in regard to making a new will, he did not bring the + old one with him. We arranged to meet in his office the next morning to + draw up the new instrument, when he doubtless expected to destroy the old + one. + </p> + <p> + “He may have destroyed it on his return home that evening. I do not know. + But so far it has not been found among his papers in either of his offices + or in the bank. Of course it may appear, as the search, though thorough, + has not yet been exhaustive. We will, therefore, hold the matter in + abeyance a few days, hoping to find the missing document.” + </p> + <p> + His hearers were variously affected by this news. Florence Lloyd was + simply dazed. She could not seem to grasp a situation which so suddenly + changed her prospects. For she well knew that in the event of no will + being found, Joseph Crawford's brother would be his rightful heir, and she + would be legally entitled to nothing at all. + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expressionless face. Quite able to + control his emotion, if he felt any, he made no sign that he welcomed this + possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly coming to him. + </p> + <p> + Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had remained because of their close + friendship with the family, spoke out rather abruptly, + </p> + <p> + “Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the man + destroyed one will before the other was drawn.” + </p> + <p> + “I agree with you,” said Philip Crawford. + </p> + <p> + “Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt if he + would really have changed his will. I think he merely threatened it, to + see if Florence persisted in keeping her engagement.” + </p> + <p> + This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be sure, + generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the estate. If no + will were found, it must by law go to the brother, but none the less the + hearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke of Miss Lloyd was greatly to + his credit as a man. + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too,” agreed Mr. Porter. “As you know, I called on Mr. Joseph + Crawford during the—the last evening of his life.” + </p> + <p> + The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad remembrance that + pictured itself to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Did he then refer to the matter of the will?” asked Mr. Randolph, in + gentle tones. + </p> + <p> + “He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that unless + Florence consented to his wishes in the matter of her engagement to Mr. + Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her only a small bequest.” + </p> + <p> + “In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not to be too + hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new will until he had + thought it over more deliberately.” + </p> + <p> + “What did he then say?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other matters, and + the will was not again referred to. But I can't help thinking he had not + destroyed it.” + </p> + <p> + At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at Gregory Hall, + she gave a little sigh, and remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of the will, + Mr. Hall?” asked Mr. Randolph. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarrassing for me. I + can only say that I have known for a long time the terms of Mr. Crawford's + existing will; I have known of his threats of changing it; I have known of + his attitude toward my engagement to his niece. But I never spoke to him + on any of these subjects, nor he to me, though several times I have + thought he was on the point of doing so. I have had access to most of his + private papers, but of two or three small boxes he always retained the + keys. I had no curiosity concerning the contents of these boxes, but I + naturally assumed his will was in one of them. I have, however, opened + these boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, in company with Mr. Randolph, and + we found no will. Nor could we discover any in the New York office or in + the bank. That is all I know of the matter.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even and, + indeed, cold. He was like a bystander, with no vital interest in the + subject he talked about. + </p> + <p> + Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the conclusion + that he was a man of unusual self-control, and an ability to mask his real + feelings completely. Feeling that nothing more could be learned at + present, I left the group in the library discussing the loss of the will, + and went down to the district attorney's office. + </p> + <p> + He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that it gave + us new fields for conjecture. + </p> + <p> + “Now, we see,” he said eagerly, “that the motive for the murder was the + theft of the will.” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily,” I replied. “Mr. Crawford may have destroyed the will + before he met his death.” + </p> + <p> + “But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the motive. Now, + you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from suspicion. She would have no reason to + kill her uncle and then destroy or suppress a will in her own favor.” + </p> + <p> + “That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion,” said I, reverting to + my former theories. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by the removal + of the will. That, of course, would be the brother, Mr. Philip Crawford.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at the attorney a moment, and then burst into laughter. + </p> + <p> + “My dear Mr. Goodrich,” I said, “don't be absurd! A man would hardly shoot + his own brother, but aside from that, why should Philip Crawford kill + Joseph just at the moment he is about to make a new will in Philip's + favor? Either the destruction of the old will or the drawing of the new + would result in Philip's falling heir to the fortune. So he would hardly + precipitate matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had been keen about + the money, he could have urged his brother to disinherit Florence Lloyd, + and Joseph would have willingly done so. He was on the very point of doing + so, any way.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but unconvinced. + “However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by removing her motive. As + you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in her favor, and thereby turn the + fortune over to Philip. And, as you also said, this lets Gregory Hall out, + too, though I never suspected him for a moment. But, of course, his + interests and Miss Lloyd's are identical.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following one + another through my brain. “Not so fast, Mr. District Attorney. The + disappearance of the will does not remove motive from the possibility of + Miss Lloyd's complicity in this crime—or Mr. Hall's either.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” + </p> + <p> + “Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession of that + will, her motive was identically the same as if he had possessed it. Now, + she certainly thought he had it, for her surprise at the news of its loss + was as unfeigned as my own. And of course Hall thought the will was among + Mr. Crawford's effects, for he has been searching constantly since the + question was raised.” + </p> + <p> + “But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd's innocence,” + objected Mr. Goodrich. + </p> + <p> + “I was,” I said slowly, “and I think I am still. But in the light of + absolute evidence I am only declaring that the non-appearance of that will + in no way interferes with the motive Miss Lloyd must have had if she is in + any way guilty. She knew, or thought she knew, that the will was there, in + her favor. She knew her uncle intended to revoke it and make another in + her disfavor. I do not accuse her—I'm not sure I suspect her—I + only say she had motive and opportunity.” + </p> + <p> + As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich's office, those words rang in my mind, + motive and opportunity. Truly they applied to Mr. Hall as well as to Miss + Lloyd, although of course it would mean Hall's coming out from the city + and returning during the night. And though this might have been a + difficult thing to do secretly, it was by no means impossible. He might + not have come all the way to West Sedgwick Station, but might have dropped + off the train earlier and taken the trolley. The trolley! that thought + reminded me of the transfer I had picked up on the grass plot near the + office veranda. Was it possible that slip of paper was a clue, and + pointing toward Hall? + </p> + <p> + Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, but hopeful of learning + something about him, I strolled back to the Crawford house. I went + directly to the office, and by good luck found Gregory Hall there alone. + He was still searching among the papers of Mr. Crawford's desk. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Mr. Burroughs,” he said, as I entered, “I'm glad to see you. If + detectives detect, you have a fine chance here to do a bit of good work. I + wouldn't mind offering you an honorarium myself, if you could unearth the + will that has so mysteriously disappeared.” + </p> + <p> + Hall's whole manner had changed. He had laid aside entirely the grave + demeanor which he had shown at the funeral, and was again the alert + business man. He was more than this. He was eager,—offensively so,—in + his search for the will. It needed no detective instinct to see that the + fortune of Joseph Crawford and its bestowment were matters of vital + interest to him. + </p> + <p> + But though his personal feelings on the subject might be distasteful to + me, it was certainly part of my duty to aid in the search, and so with him + I looked through the various drawers and filing cabinets. The papers + representing or connected with the financial interests of the late + millionaire were neatly filed and labelled; but in some parts of the desk + we found the hodge-podge of personal odds and ends which accumulates with + nearly everybody. + </p> + <p> + Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they showed a + possibility of casting some light on Mr. Crawford's personal affairs. + </p> + <p> + But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper clippings, and + such things, there was nothing that seemed of the slightest interest, + until at last I chanced upon a photograph that arrested my attention. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know who this is?” I inquired. + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; “a friend of Mr. + Crawford's, I suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “More than a friend, I should judge,” and I turned the back of the picture + toward him. Across it was written, “with loving Christmas greetings, from + M.S.P.”; and it was dated as recently as the Christmas previous. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hall, “Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who cared + enough about him to send an affectionate greeting, but I never heard of + her before, and I doubt if she is in any way responsible for the + disappearance of this will.” + </p> + <p> + He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to the + photograph. But to me it seemed important. I alone knew of the visiting + card in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag belonged to a lady named + Purvis. And here was a photograph initialed by a lady whose surname began + with P, and who was unmistakably on affectionate terms with Mr. Crawford. + To my mind the links began to form a chain; the lady who had sent her + photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bag in Mr. Crawford's + office the night he was killed, surely was a lady to be questioned. + </p> + <p> + But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so I said + nothing to Hall on this subject, and putting the photograph in my pocket + continued to assist him to look for the will, but without success. + However, the discovery of the photograph had in a measure diverted my + suspicions from Gregory Hall; and though I endeavored to draw him into + general conversation, I did not ask him any definite questions about + himself. + </p> + <p> + But the more I talked with him, the more I disliked him: He not only + showed a mercenary, fortune-hunting spirit, but he showed himself in many + ways devoid of the finer feelings and chivalrous nature that ought to + belong to the man about to marry such a perfect flower of womanhood as + Florence Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XI. LOUIS'S STORY + </h2> + <p> + After spending an evening in thinking over the situation and piecing + together my clues, I decided that the next thing to be done was to trace + up that transfer. If I could fasten that upon Gregory Hall, it would + indeed be a starting point to work from. Although this seemed to eliminate + Mrs. Purvis, who had already become a living entity in my mind, I still + had haunting suspicions of Hall; and then, too, there was a possibility of + collusion between these two. It might be fanciful, but if Hall and the + Purvis woman were both implicated, Hall was quite enough a clever villain + to treat the photograph lightly as he had done. + </p> + <p> + And so the next morning, I started for the office of the trolley car + company. + </p> + <p> + I learned without difficulty that the transfer I had found, must have been + given to some passenger the night of Mr. Crawford's death, but was not + used. It had been issued after nine o'clock in the evening, somewhere on + the line between New York and West Sedgwick. It was a transfer which + entitled a passenger on that line to a trip on the branch line running + through West Sedgwick, and the fact that it had not been used, implied + either a negligent conductor or a decision on the part of the passenger + not to take his intended ride. + </p> + <p> + All this was plausible, though a far from definite indication that Hall + might have come out from New York by trolley, or part way by trolley, and + though accepting a transfer on the West Sedgwick branch, had concluded not + to use it. But the whole theory pointed equally as well to Mrs. Purvis, or + indeed to the unknown intruder insisted upon by so many. I endeavored to + learn something from certain conductors who brought their cars into West + Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they carried a great many passengers + and of course could not identify a transfer, of which scores of duplicates + had been issued. + </p> + <p> + Without much hope I interviewed the conductors of the West Sedgwick Branch + Line. Though I could learn nothing definite, I fell into conversation with + one of them, a young Irishman, who was interested because of my connection + with the mystery. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” he said, “I can't tell you anythin' about a stray transfer. But + one thing I can tell you. That 'ere murder was committed of a Toosday + night, wasn't it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I returned. + </p> + <p> + “Well, that 'ere parlyvoo vally of Mr. Crawford's, he's rid, on my car + 'most every Toosday night fer weeks and weeks. It's his night off. And + last Toosday night he didn't ride with me. Now I don't know's that means + anything, but agin it might.” + </p> + <p> + It didn't seem to me that it meant much, for certainly Louis was not under + the slightest suspicion. And yet as I came to think about it, if that had + been Louis's transfer and if he had dropped it near the office veranda, he + had lied when he said that he went round the other side of the house to + reach the back entrance. + </p> + <p> + It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself down to the point that if + that were Louis's transfer it could be proved; and if not it must be + investigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued at a definite hour, + and dropped just outside the scene of the crime was certainly a clue of + importance. + </p> + <p> + I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though I intended to have a talk + with Louis later, I asked first for Miss Lloyd. Surely, if I were to carry + on my investigation of the case, in her interests, I must have a talk with + her. I had not intruded before, but now that the funeral was over, the + real work of tracking the criminal must be commenced, and as one of the + principal characters in the sad drama, Miss Lloyd must play her part. + </p> + <p> + Until I found myself in her presence I had not actually realized how much + I wanted this interview. + </p> + <p> + I was sure that what she said, her manner and her facial expression, must + either blot out or strengthen whatever shreds of suspicion I held against + her. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd,” I began, “I am, as you know, a detective; and I am here in + Sedgwick for the purpose of discovering the cowardly assassin of your + uncle. I assume that you wish to aid me in any way you can. Am I right in + this?” + </p> + <p> + Instead of the unhesitating affirmative I had expected, the girl spoke + irresolutely. “Yes,” she said, “but I fear I cannot help you, as I know + nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + The fact that this reply did not sound to me as a rebuff, for which it was + doubtless intended, I can only account for by my growing appreciation of + her wonderful beauty. + </p> + <p> + Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and her + simple wool gown gave her a statuesque appearance; which, however, was + contradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face and the sad droop of + her lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed to me, and, though she assumed + an air of composure, I well knew it was only assumed, and that with some + difficulty. + </p> + <p> + Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask her to + repeat the main facts, which I already knew. + </p> + <p> + “Then, Miss Lloyd,” I said, in response to her disclaimer, “if you cannot + help me, perhaps I can help you. I have reason to think that possibly + Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell the truth in his testimony at + the coroner's inquest. I have reason to think that instead of going around + the house to the back entrance as he described, he went around the other + side, thus passing your uncle's office.” + </p> + <p> + To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more seriously + than I supposed it would. + </p> + <p> + “What?” she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. “What time did + he come home?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” I replied; “but you surely don't suspect Louis of anything + wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pass the office he might have + looked in, and so could tell us of your uncle's well-being at that time.” + </p> + <p> + “At what time?” + </p> + <p> + “At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But since you + are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis and let us question + him together?” + </p> + <p> + The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and for a + moment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her part filled my + soul with awful apprehension. Could it be possible that she and Louis were + in collusion, and that she dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I + remembered the strange looks he had cast at her while being questioned by + the coroner. I remembered his vehement denial of having passed the office + that evening,—too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I were + to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I would rather + learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again asked her to + send for the valet. + </p> + <p> + With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending fate, she + rose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she returned to her seat and + said quietly, “You may ask the man such questions as you wish, Mr. + Burroughs, but I beg you will not include me in the conversation.” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless it should be necessary,” I replied coldly, for I did not at + all like her making this stipulation. To me it savored of a sort of + cowardice, or at least a presumption on my own chivalry. + </p> + <p> + When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much agitated as + Miss Lloyd. There was no longer a possibility of a doubt that these two + knew something, had some secret in common, which bore directly on the + case, and which must be exposed. A sudden hope flashed into my mind that + it might be only some trifling secret, which seemed of importance to them, + but which was merely a side issue of the great question. + </p> + <p> + I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man's + perturbation, and without preliminary speech I drew the transfer from my + pocket and fairly flashed it in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” I said sternly, “you dropped this transfer when you came home the + night of Mr. Crawford's death.” + </p> + <p> + The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairly + frightened the truth out of the man. + </p> + <p> + “Y-yes, sir,” he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at Miss + Lloyd, he stood nervously interlacing his fingers. + </p> + <p> + I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entire + self-possession, and sat looking straight before her with an air that + seemed to say, “Go on, I'm prepared for the worst.” + </p> + <p> + As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes of the two, I lost my + ground of vantage, for when I again spoke to the man, he too was more + composed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless he was influenced by + Miss Lloyd's demeanor, for he imitatively assumed a receptive air. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get the transfer?” I went on. + </p> + <p> + “On the trolley, sir; the main line.” + </p> + <p> + “To be used on the Branch Line through West Sedgwick?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not use it?” + </p> + <p> + “As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the coroner, I have spend + that evening with a young lady. We went for a trolley ride, and as we + returned I take a transfer for myself, but not for her, as she live near + where we alight.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you left the main line and took the young lady home, intending then + yourself to come by trolley through West Sedgwick?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; it was just that way.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Louis seemed to forget his embarrassment, his gaze strayed + away, and a happy expression came into his eyes. I felt sure I was reading + his volatile French nature aright, when I assumed his mind had turned back + to the pleasant evening he had spent with his young lady acquaintance. + Somehow this went far to convince me of the fellow's innocence for it was + quite evident the murder and its mystery were not uppermost in his + thoughts at that moment. But my next question brought him back to + realization of the present situation. + </p> + <p> + “And why didn't you use your transfer?” + </p> + <p> + “Only that the night, he was so pleasant, I desired to walk.” + </p> + <p> + “And so you walked through the village, holding, perhaps, the transfer in + your hand?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, yes; but I do not remember the transfer in my hand, though he + may have been there.” + </p> + <p> + And now the man's unquiet had returned. His lips twitched and his dark + eyes rolled about, as he endeavored in vain to look anywhere but at Miss + Lloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by a visible effort. + </p> + <p> + Anxious to bring the matter to a crisis, I said at once, and directly: + </p> + <p> + “And then you entered the gates of this place, you walked to the house, + you walked around the house to the back by way of the path which leads + around by the library veranda, and you accidentally dropped your transfer + near the veranda step.” + </p> + <p> + I spoke quietly enough, but Louis immediately burst into voluble denial. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he exclaimed; “I do not go round by the office, I go the other + side of the house. I have tell you so many times.” + </p> + <p> + “But I myself picked up your transfer near the office veranda.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he blow there. The wind blow that night, oh, something fearful! He + blow the paper around the house, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so,” I retorted; “I think you went around the house that + way, I think you paused at the office window—” + </p> + <p> + Just here I made a dramatic pause myself, hoping thus to appeal to the + emotional nature of my victim. And I succeeded. Louis almost shrieked as + he pressed his hands against his eyes, and cried out: “No! no! I tell you + I did not go round that way! I go round the other way, and the wind—the + wind, he blow my transfer all about!” + </p> + <p> + I tried a more quiet manner, I tried persuasive arguments, I finally + resorted to severity and even threats, but no admission could I get from + Louis, except that he had not gone round the house by way of the office. I + was positive the man was lying, and I was equally positive that Miss Lloyd + knew he was lying, and that she knew why, but the matter seemed to me at a + deadlock. I could have questioned her, but I preferred to do that when + Louis was not present. If she must suffer ignominy it need not be before a + servant. So I dismissed Louis, perhaps rather curtly, and turning to Miss + Lloyd, I asked her if she believed his assertion that he did not pass by + the office that night. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what I believe,” she answered, wearily drawing her hand + across her brow. “And I can't see that it matters anyway. Supposing he did + go by the office, you certainly don't suspect him of my uncle's murder, do + you?” + </p> + <p> + “It is my duty, Miss Lloyd,” I said gently, for the girl was pitiably + nervous, “to get the testimony of any one who was in or near the office + that night. But of course testimony is useless unless it is true.” + </p> + <p> + I looked her straight in the eyes as I said this, for I was thoroughly + convinced that her own testimony at the inquest had not been entirely + true. + </p> + <p> + I think she understood my glance, for she arose at once, and said with + extreme dignity: “I cannot see any necessity for prolonging this + interview, Mr. Burroughs. It is of course your work to discover the truth + or falsity of Louis's story, but I cannot see that it in any way + implicates or even interests me.” + </p> + <p> + The girl was superb. Her beauty was enhanced by the sudden spirit she + showed, and her flashing dark eyes suggested a baited animal at bay. + Apparently she had reached the limit of her endurance, and was unwilling + to be questioned further or drawn into further admissions. And yet, some + inexplicable idea came to me that she was angry, not with me, but with the + tangle in which I had remorselessly enmeshed her. Of a high order of + intelligence, she knew perfectly well that I was conscious of the fact + that there was a secret of some sort between her and the valet. Her + haughty disdain, I felt sure, was to convey the impression that though + there might be a secret between them, it was no collusion or working + together, and that though her understanding with the man was mysterious, + it was in no way beneath her dignity. Her imperious air as she quietly + left the room thrilled me anew, and I began to think that a woman who + could assume the haughty demeanor of an empress might have chosen, as + empresses had done before her, to commit crime. + </p> + <p> + However, she went away, and the dark and stately library seemed to have + lost its only spot of light and charm. I sat for a few minutes pondering + over it all, when I saw passing through the hall, the maid, Elsa. It + suddenly occurred to me, that having failed with the mistress of the + house, I might succeed better with her maid, so I called the girl in. + </p> + <p> + She came willingly enough, and though she seemed timid, she was not + embarrassed or afraid. + </p> + <p> + “I'm in authority here,” I said, “and I'm going to ask you some questions, + which you must answer truthfully.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” she said, without any show of interest. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been with Miss Lloyd long?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; about four years, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she a kind mistress?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed she is, sir. She is the loveliest lady I ever worked for. I'd do + anything for Miss Lloyd, that I would.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, perhaps you can best serve her by telling all you know about the + events of Tuesday night.” + </p> + <p> + “But I don't know anything, sir,” and Elsa's eyes opened wide in + absolutely unfeigned wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing about the actual murder; no, of course not. But I just want you + to tell me a few things about some minor matters. Did you take the yellow + flowers from the box that was sent to Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I always untie her parcels. And as she was at dinner, I + arranged the flowers in a vase of water.” + </p> + <p> + “How many flowers were there?” + </p> + <p> + For some reason this simple query disturbed the girl greatly. She flushed + scarlet, and then she turned pale. She twisted the corner of her apron in + her nervous fingers, and then said, only half audibly, “I don't know, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, you do, Elsa,” I said in kindly tones, being anxious not to + frighten her; “tell me how many there were. Were there not a dozen?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir; truly I don't. I didn't count them at all.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to disbelieve her; she was plainly telling the truth. + And, too, why should she count the roses? The natural thing would be not + to count them, but merely to put them in the vase as she had said. And + yet, there was something about those flowers that Elsa knew and wouldn't + tell. Could it be that I was on the track of that missing twelfth rose? I + knew, though perhaps Elsa did not, how many roses the florist had sent in + that box. And unless Gregory Hall had abstracted one at the time of his + purchase, the twelfth rose had been taken by some one else after the + flowers reached the Crawford House. Could it have been Elsa, and was her + perturbation only because of a guilty conscience over a petty theft of a + flower? But I realized I must question her adroitly if I would find out + these things. + </p> + <p> + “Is Miss Lloyd fond of flowers?” I asked, casually. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir, she always has some by her.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you love flowers too, Elsa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” But the quietly spoken answer, accompanied by a natural and + straightforward look promised little for my new theory. + </p> + <p> + “Does Miss Lloyd sometimes give you some of her flowers?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir, quite often.” + </p> + <p> + “That is, if she's there when they arrive. But if she isn't there, and you + open the box yourself, she wouldn't mind if you took one or two blossoms, + would she?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir, she wouldn't mind. Miss Lloyd's awful kind about such + things. But I wouldn't often do it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “No; of course not. But you did happen to take one of those yellow roses, + didn't you, though?” + </p> + <p> + I breathlessly awaited the answer, but to my surprise, instead of + embarrassment the girl's eyes flashed with anger, though she answered + quietly enough, “Well, yes, I did, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Ah, at last I was on the trail of that twelfth rose! But from the frank + way in which the girl admitted having taken the flower, I greatly feared + that the trail would lead to a commonplace ending. + </p> + <p> + “What did you do with it?” I said quietly, endeavoring to make the + question sound of little importance. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to tell you;” and the pout on her scarlet lips seemed more + like that of a wilful child than of one guarding a guilty secret. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, tell me, Elsa;” and I even descended to a coaxing tone, to win + the girl's confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I gave it to that Louis.” + </p> + <p> + “To Louis? and why do you call him that Louis?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, because. I gave him the flower to wear because I thought he was going + to take me out that evening. He had promised he would, at least he had + sort of promised, and then,—and then—” + </p> + <p> + “And then he took another young lady,” I finished for her in tones of such + sympathy and indignation that she seemed to think she had found a friend. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, “he went and took another girl riding on the trolley, + after he had said he would take me.” + </p> + <p> + “Elsa,” I said suddenly, and I fear she thought I had lost interest in her + broken heart, “did Louis wear that rose you gave him that night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the horrid man! I saw it in his coat when he went away.” + </p> + <p> + “And did he wear it home again?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know?” Elsa tossed her head with what was meant to be a + haughty air, but which was belied by the blush that mantled her cheek at + her own prevarication. + </p> + <p> + “But you do know,” I insisted, gently; “did he wear it when he came home?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, he did.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I looked in his room the next day, and I saw it there all + withered. He had thrown it on the floor!” + </p> + <p> + The tragedy in Elsa's eyes at this awful relation of the cruelty of the + sterner sex called for a spoken sympathy, and I said at once, and + heartily: “That was horrid of him! If I were you I'd never give him + another flower.” + </p> + <p> + In accordance with the natural impulses of her sex, Elsa seemed pleased at + my disapproval of Louis's behavior, but she by no means looked as if she + would never again bestow her favor upon him. She smiled and tossed her + head, and seemed willing enough for further conversation, but for the + moment I felt that I had enough food for thought. So I dismissed Elsa, + having first admonished her not to repeat our conversation to any one. In + order to make sure that I should be obeyed in this matter, I threatened + her with some unknown terrors which the law would bring upon her if she + disobeyed me. When I felt sure she was thoroughly frightened into secrecy + concerning our interview, I sent her away and began to cogitate on what + she had told me. + </p> + <p> + If Louis came to the house late that night, as by his own admission he + did; if he went around the house on the side of the office, as the + straying transfer seemed to me to prove; and if, at the time, he was + wearing in his coat a yellow rose with petals similar to those found on + the office floor the next morning, was not one justified in looking more + deeply into the record of Louis the valet? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION + </h2> + <p> + Elsa had been gone but a few moments when Florence Lloyd returned to the + library. I arose to greet her and marvelled at the change which had come + over her. Surely here was a girl of a thousand moods. She had left me with + an effect of hauteur and disdain; she returned, gentle and charming, + almost humble. I could not understand it, and remained standing after she + had seated herself, awaiting developments. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, Mr. Burroughs,” she said, and her low, sweet voice seemed full + of cordial invitation. “I'm afraid I was rude to you, when I went away + just now; and I want to say that if I can tell you anything you wish to + know, I should be glad to do so.” + </p> + <p> + I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. My heart was pounding with + excitement at this new phase of the girl's nature. For an instant it + seemed as if she must have a personal kindly feeling toward me, and then + my reason returned, and with a suddenly falling heart and slowing pulses, + I realized that I was a fool, and that after thinking over the disclosures + Louis had made, Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it was to her best + advantage to curry favor with the detective. This knowledge came to me + instinctively, and so I distrusted her gentle voice and winning smile, and + hardening my heart against her, I resolved to turn this new mood of hers + to my own advantage, and learn what I could while she was willing to + converse: + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad of this opportunity, Miss Lloyd,” I said, “for there are some + phases of this affair that I want to discuss with you alone. Let us talk + the matter over quietly. It is as well that you should know that there are + some doubts felt as to the entire truth of the story you told at the + inquest. I do not say this to frighten you,” I added, as the poor girl + clasped her hands and gave me a look of dumb alarm; “but, since it is so, + I want to do all I can to set the matter right. Do you remember exactly + all that took place, to your knowledge, on the night of your uncle's + death?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied, looking more frightened still. It was evident that she + knew more than she had yet revealed, but I almost forgot my inquiry, so + absorbed was I in watching her lovely face. It was even more exquisite in + its terrified pallor than when the fleeting pink showed in her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” I said, “let us go over it. You heard your uncle go out at about + eight o'clock and return about nine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I heard the front door open and close both times.” + </p> + <p> + “You and Mrs. Pierce being in the music-room, of course. Then, later, you + heard a visitor enter, and again you heard him leave?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Mr. Porter.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you know it was Mr. Porter, at the time he was here?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I think not. I didn't think at all who it might be. Uncle Joseph + often had men to call in the evening.” + </p> + <p> + “About what time did Mr. Porter leave?” + </p> + <p> + “A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert say, `Good-night, sir,' as he + closed the door after him.” + </p> + <p> + “And soon after, you and Mrs. Pierce went upstairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; only a few minutes after.” + </p> + <p> + “And, later, Mrs. Pierce came to your room?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; about half-past ten, I should say; she came to get a book. She + didn't stay two minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “And after that, you went down-stairs again to speak to your uncle?” For + the merest instant Miss Lloyd's eyes closed and she swayed as if about to + faint, but she regained her composure at once, and answered with some + asperity, + </p> + <p> + “I did not. I have told you that I did not leave my room again that + night.” + </p> + <p> + Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and though her full lower lip + quivered it was with anger now, not fear. + </p> + <p> + As I watched her, I wondered how I could have thought her more beautiful + when pale. Surely with this glowing color she was at her glorious best. + </p> + <p> + “Then when did you drop the two rose petals there?” I went on, calmly + enough, though my own heart was beating fast. + </p> + <p> + “I did not drop them. They were left there by some intruder.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Miss Lloyd,” and I observed her closely, “the petals were from a + rose such as those Mr. Hall sent you that evening. The florist assures me + there were no more such blossoms in West Sedgwick at that time. The fallen + petals, then, were from one of your own roses, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Or?” asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed against the laces at her + throbbing bosom. “Or?” + </p> + <p> + “Or,” I went on, “from a rose worn by some one who had come out from New + York on a late train.” + </p> + <p> + For the moment I chose to ignore Louis's rose for I wanted to learn + anything Miss Lloyd could tell me. And, too, the yellow petals might have + fallen from a flower in Hall's coat after all. I thought it possible by + suggesting this idea, to surprise from her some hint as to whether she had + any suspicion of him. + </p> + <p> + She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her chair, she closed her eyes, as + if spent with a useless struggle. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment,” she said, putting out her hand with an imploring gesture. + “Wait a moment. Let me think. I will tell you all, but—wait—” + </p> + <p> + With her eyes still closed, she lay back against the satin chair cushion, + and I gazed at her, fascinated. + </p> + <p> + I knew it! Then and there the knowledge came to me! Not her guilt, not her + innocence. The crime seemed far away then, but I knew like a flash not + only that I loved this girl, this Florence Lloyd, but that I should never + love any one else. It mattered not that she was betrothed to another man; + the love that had suddenly sprung to life in my heart was such pure + devotion that it asked no return. Guilty or innocent, I loved her. Guilty + or innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire of her heart were toward + another, she should ever know or suspect my adoration for her. + </p> + <p> + I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when her eyes opened I must + discreetly turn my glance aside, but blessing every instant of opportunity + thus given me. + </p> + <p> + Her countenance, though troubled and drawn with anxiety, was so pure and + sweet that I felt sure of her innocence. But it should be my work to prove + that to the world. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly her eyes flashed open; again her mood had changed. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Burroughs,” she said, and there was almost a challenge in her tone, + “why do you ask me these things? You are a detective, you are here to find + out for yourself, not to ask others to find out. I am innocent of my + uncle's death, of course, but when you cast suspicion on the man to whom I + am betrothed, you cannot expect me to help you confirm that suspicion. You + have made me think by your remark about a man on a late train that you + refer to Mr. Hall. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + This was a change of base, indeed. I was being questioned instead of doing + the catechising myself. Very well; if it were my lady's will to challenge + me, I would meet her on her own ground. + </p> + <p> + “You took the hint very quickly,” I said. “Had you thought of such a + possibility before?” + </p> + <p> + “No, nor do I now. I will not.” Again she was the offended queen. “But + since you have breathed the suggestion, you may not count on any help from + me.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you have helped me otherwise?” I said, detaining her as she swept + by. + </p> + <p> + To this she made no answer, but again her face wore a troubled expression, + and as she went slowly from the room, she left me with a strong conviction + that she knew far more about Gregory Hall's connection with the matter + than she had told me. + </p> + <p> + I sat alone for a few moments wondering what I had better do next. + </p> + <p> + I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, and talk things over with + him, but I thought it would be better to see Louis first, and settle up + the matter of his rose more definitely. Accordingly I rang the bell, and + when the parlor maid answered it, I asked her to send both Louis and Elsa + to me in the library. + </p> + <p> + I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each other, + and I hoped this fact would aid me in learning the truth from them. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Louis,” I began, “you may as well tell me the truth about your home + coming last Tuesday night. In the first place, you must admit that you + were wearing in your coat one of the yellow roses which had been sent to + Miss Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, indeed!” declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening glance, as if + forbidding her to contradict him. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, man,” I said; “don't stand there and tell useless lies. It will + not help you. The best thing you can do for yourself and for all concerned + is to tell the truth. And, moreover, if you don't tell it to me now, you + will have to tell it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a yellow rose + and you wore it away that evening when you went to see your young lady. + Now what became of that rose?” + </p> + <p> + “I—I lost it, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you retired, you + threw it on the floor, in your own room.” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, but cannot + find him.” + </p> + <p> + I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his own story + so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of a simpleton than a + villain. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you couldn't find it,” I informed him, “for it was taken from + your room next day; and of course you didn't look for it until after you + had heard yellow roses discussed at the inquest.” + </p> + <p> + Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he glowered at + Elsa, as he said: “Who take him away? who take my rose from my room.” + </p> + <p> + “But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now you're asking who took it away. + Once again, let me advise you to tell the truth. You're not at all + successful in telling falsehoods. Now answer me this: When you came home + Tuesday night, did you or did you not walk around the house past the + office window?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I walked around the other side. I—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, Louis! You're not telling the truth. You did walk around by the + office, and you dropped your transfer there. It never blew all around the + house, as you have said it did.” + </p> + <p> + A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man's eyes, but he did not look + at me. He shifted his gaze uneasily, as he repeated almost in a singsong + way, “go round the other side of the house.” + </p> + <p> + It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness to the fact, I could not + prove that he had gone by the office windows, though I was sure he had. + </p> + <p> + But help came from an unexpected quarter. + </p> + <p> + Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but now she + spoke up suddenly, and said: “He did go round by the office, Mr. + Burroughs, and I saw him.” + </p> + <p> + I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the effect of + her speech on him was quite the reverse. He almost collapsed; he trembled + and turned white, and though he tried to speak, he made no sound. Surely + this man was too cowardly for a criminal; but I must learn the secret of + his knowledge. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about it, Elsa,” I said, quietly. + </p> + <p> + “I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; and I saw + Louis come around the house, and he came around by the office side.” + </p> + <p> + “You're positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it? Remember, you are + making an important assertion.” + </p> + <p> + “I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly as he came around and + entered at the back door.” + </p> + <p> + “You hear, Louis?” I said sternly. “I believe Elsa's statement rather than + yours, for she tells a straight story, while you are rattled and agitated, + and have all the appearance of concealing something.” + </p> + <p> + Louis looked helpless. He didn't dare deny Elsa's story, but he would not + confirm it. At last he said, with a glance of hatred at the girl, “Elsa, + she tell that story to make the trouble for me.” + </p> + <p> + There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, was jealous, and her pride had + been hurt because Louis had taken the rose she gave him, and then had gone + to call on another girl. But I had no reason to doubt Elsa's statement, + and I had every reason to doubt Louis's. I tried to imagine what Louis's + experience had really been, and it suddenly occurred to me, that though + innocent himself of real wrong, he had seen something in the office, or + through the office windows that he wished to keep secret. I did not for a + moment believe that the man had killed his master, so I concluded he was + endeavoring to shield someone else. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” I said, suddenly, “I'll tell you what you did. You went around by + the office, you saw a light there late at night, and you naturally looked + in. You saw Mr. Crawford there, and he was perhaps already killed. You + stepped inside and discovered this, and then you came away, and said + nothing about it, lest you yourself be suspected of the crime. + Incidentally you dropped two petals from the rose Elsa had given you.” + </p> + <p> + Louis's answer to this accusation was a perfect storm of denials, + expressed in voluble French and broken English, but all to the effect that + it was not true, and that if he had seen his master dead, he would have + raised an alarm. + </p> + <p> + I saw that I had not yet struck the right idea, so I tried again. “Then, + Louis, you must have passed the office before Mr. Crawford was killed, + which is really more probable. Then as you passed the window, you saw + something or someone in the office, and you're not willing to tell about + it. Is this it?” + </p> + <p> + This again brought forth only incoherent denial, and I could see that the + man was becoming so rattled, it was difficult for him to speak clearly, + had he desired to do so. + </p> + <p> + “Elsa,” I said, suddenly, “you took that rose from Louis's room. What did + you do with it?” + </p> + <p> + “I kept,—I mean, I don't know what I did with it,” stammered the + girl, blushing rosy red, and looking shyly at Louis. + </p> + <p> + I felt sorry to disclose the poor girl's little romance, for it was easy + enough to see that she was in love with the fickle Frenchman, who + evidently did not reciprocate her interest. He looked at her disdainfully, + and she presented a pathetic picture of embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + But the situation was too serious for me to consider Elsa's sentiments, + and I said, rather sternly: “You do know where it is. You preserved that + rose as a souvenir. Go at once and fetch it.” + </p> + <p> + It was a chance shot, for I was not at all certain that she had kept the + withered flower, but dominated by my superior will she went away at once. + She returned in a moment with the flower. + </p> + <p> + Although withered, it was still in fairly good condition; quite enough so + for me to see at a glance that no petals had been detached from it. The + green calyx leaves clung around the bud in such a manner as to prove + positively that the unfolding flower had lost no petal. This settled the + twelfth rose. Wherever those tell-tale petals had come from, they were not + from Louis's rose. I gave the flower back to Elsa, and I said, “take your + flower, my girl, and go away now. I don't want to question you any more + for the present.” + </p> + <p> + A little bewildered at her sudden dismissal, Elsa went away, and I turned + my attention to the Frenchman. + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” I began, “this must be settled here and now between us. Either + you must tell me what I want to know, or you must be taken before the + district attorney, and be made to tell him. I have proved to my own + satisfaction that the rose petals in the office were not from the flower + you wore. Therefore I conclude that you did not go into the office that + night, but as you passed the window you did see someone in there with Mr. + Crawford. The hour was later than Mr. Porter's visit, for he had already + gone home, and Lambert had locked the front door and gone to bed. You came + in later, and what you saw, or whom you saw through the office window so + surprised you, or interested you, that you paused to look in, and there + you dropped your transfer.” + </p> + <p> + Though Louis didn't speak, I could see at once that I was on the right + track at last. The man was shielding somebody. He was unwilling to tell + what he had seen, lest it inculpate someone. Could it be Gregory Hall? If + Hall had come out on a late train, and Louis had seen him there, he might, + perhaps under Hall's coercion, be keeping the fact secret. Again, if a + strange woman with the gold bag had been in the office, that also would + have attracted Louis's attention. Again, and here my heart almost stopped + beating, could he have seen Florence Lloyd in there? But a second thought + put me at ease again. Surely to have seen Florence in there would have + been so usual and natural a sight that it could not have caused him + anxiety. And yet, again, for him to have seen Florence in her uncle's + office, would have proved to him that the story she told at the inquest + was false. I must get out of him the knowledge he possessed, if I had to + resort to a sort of third degree. But I might manage it by adroit + questioning. + </p> + <p> + “I quite understand, Louis, that you are shielding some person. But let me + tell you that it is useless. It is much wiser for you to tell me all you + know, and then I can go to work intelligently to find the man who murdered + Mr. Crawford. You want me to find him, do you not?” + </p> + <p> + Louis seemed to have found his voice again. “Yes, sir, of course he must + be found. Of course I want him found,—the miscreant, the villain! + but, Mr. Burroughs, sir, what I have see in the office makes nothing to + your search. I simply see Mr. Crawford alive and well. And I pass by. That + fool girl Elsa, she tell you that I pass by, so I may say so. But I see + nothing in the office to alarm me, and if I drop my transfer there, it is + but because I think of him as no consequence, and I let him go.” + </p> + <p> + “Louis,” and I looked him straight in the eye, “all that sounds + straightforward and true. But, if you saw nothing in the office to + surprise or alarm you, why did you at first deny having passed by the + office at all?” + </p> + <p> + The man had no answer for this. He was not ingenious in inventing + falsehood, and he stood looking helpless and despairing. I perceived I + should have to go on with my questioning. + </p> + <p> + “Was it a man or a woman you saw in there with Mr. Crawford?” + </p> + <p> + “I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master.” + </p> + <p> + That wouldn't do, then. As long as I asked him direct questions he could + answer falsely. I must trip him up in some roundabout way. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said pleasantly, “I understand that. And what was Mr. Crawford + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “He sat at his desk;” and Louis spoke slowly, and picked his words with + care. + </p> + <p> + “Was he writing?” + </p> + <p> + “No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing.” + </p> + <p> + I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out before the + man could frame up his lie. I believed I was going to learn something at + last, if I could make the man tell. Surely the testimony of one who saw + Joseph Crawford late that night was of value, and though that testimony + was difficult to obtain, it was well worth the effort. + </p> + <p> + “And was Mr. Hall at his desk also?” + </p> + <p> + Louis stared at me. “Mr. Hall, he was in New York that night.” This was + said so simply and unpremeditatedly, that I was absolutely certain it was + not Hall whom Louis had seen there. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, of course, so he was,” I said lightly; “and Mr. Crawford was + writing, was he?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” spoken with the dogged scowl which I was beginning to learn + always accompanied Louis's untruthful statements. + </p> + <p> + And now I decided to put my worst fear to the test and have it over with. + It must be done, and I felt sure I could do it, but oh, how I dreaded it! + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Crawford look up or see you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And didn't Miss Florence see you, either?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + It was out. The mere fact that Louis answered that question so calmly and + unconsciously proved he was telling the truth. But what a truth! for it + told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd was in the office with her + uncle, that Louis had seen her, but that she had not seen him. I had + learned the truth from my reading of the man's expression and demeanor, + and though it made my heart sink, I didn't for a moment doubt that it was + the truth. + </p> + <p> + Of course Louis realized the next instant what he had done, and again he + began his stammering denials. “Of course, Miss Lloyd do not see me for she + is not there. How can she see me, then? I tell you my master was alone!” + </p> + <p> + Had I been the least uncertain, this would have convinced me that I was + right. For Louis's voice rose almost to a shriek, so angry was he with + himself for having made the slip. + </p> + <p> + “Give it up, Louis,” I said; “you have let out the truth, now be quiet. + You couldn't help it, man, you were bound to trip yourself up sooner or + later. You put up a good fight for Miss Florence, and now that I + understand why you told your falsehoods, I can't help admiring your + chivalry. You saw Miss Lloyd there that evening, you heard her next day at + the inquest deny having been in the office in the evening. So, in a way, + it was very commendable on your part to avoid contradicting her + testimonies, with your own. But you are not clever enough, Louis, to carry + out that deceit to the end. And now that you have admitted that you saw + Miss Lloyd there, you can best help her cause, and best help me to help + her cause, by telling me all about it. For rest assured, Louis, that I am + quite as anxious to prove Miss Lloyd's innocence as you can possibly be, + and the only way to accomplish that end, is to learn as much of the truth + as I possibly can. Now, tell me what she was doing.” + </p> + <p> + “Only talking to her uncle, sir.” Louis had the air of a defeated man. He + had tried to shield Miss Lloyd's name and had failed. Now he spoke + sullenly, and as if his whole cause were lost. + </p> + <p> + “And Mr. Crawford was talking to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He was not writing, then?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did they seem to be having an amicable conversation?” + </p> + <p> + Louis hesitated, and his hesitation was sufficient answer. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” I said, “you need not tell me more. In fact, I would prefer + to get the rest of the story from Miss Lloyd, herself.” + </p> + <p> + Louis looked startled. “Don't tell Miss Lloyd I told you this,” he begged; + “I have try very hard not to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you tried hard, Louis, not to tell me, and it was not your fault + that I wrung the truth from you. I will not tell Miss Lloyd that you told + me, unless it should become necessary, and I do not think it will. Go away + now, Louis, and do not discuss this matter with anybody at all. And, also, + do not think for a moment that you have been disloyal in telling me that + you saw Miss Lloyd. As I say, you couldn't help it. I should simply have + kept at you until I made you tell, so you need not blame yourself in the + matter at all.” + </p> + <p> + Louis went away, and though I could see that he believed what I said, he + had a dejected air, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for the man who had + so inadvertently given me the knowledge that must be used against the + beautiful girl who had herself given untrue testimony. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0014" id="link2H_4_0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE + </h2> + <p> + After Louis left me, I felt as if a dead weight had fallen on my heart. + Florence Lloyd had gone down to her uncle's office late that night, and + yet at the inquest she had testified that she had not done so. And even to + me, when talking quietly and alone, she had repeated her false assertion. + This much I knew, but why she had done it, I did not know. Not until I was + forced to do so, would I believe that even her falsehood in the matter + meant that she herself was guilty. There must be some other reason for her + mendacity. + </p> + <p> + Well, I would find out this reason, and if it were not a creditable one to + her, I would still endeavor to do all I could for her. I longed to see + her, and try if perhaps kind and gentle urging might not elicit the truth. + But she had left me with such an air of haughty disdain, I hesitated to + send for her again just now. And as it was nearly dinner time, I resolved + to go back to my hotel. + </p> + <p> + On the way, I came to the conclusion that it would do no harm to have a + talk with Parmalee. + </p> + <p> + I had not much confidence in his detective ability, but he knew the people + better than I did, and might be able to give me information of some sort. + </p> + <p> + After I reached the Sedgwick Arms I telephoned Parmalee to come over and + dine with me, and he readily consented. + </p> + <p> + During dinner I told him all that I had learned from Elsa and Louis. Of + course I had no right to keep this knowledge to myself, and, too, I wanted + Parmalee's opinion on the situation as it stood at present. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't really surprise me,” he said, “for I thought all along, Miss + Lloyd was not telling the truth. I'm not yet ready to say that I think she + killed her uncle, although I must say it seems extremely probable. But if + she didn't commit the deed, she knows perfectly well who did.” + </p> + <p> + “Meaning Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't mean Hall. In fact I don't mean any one in particular. I + think Miss Lloyd was the instigator of the crime, and practically carried + out its commission, but she may have had an assisting agent for the actual + deed.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, how you talk! It quite gives me the shivers even to think of a + beautiful young woman being capable of such thoughts or deeds.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you see, Burroughs, that's because you are prejudiced in favor of + Miss Lloyd. Women are capable of crime as well as men, and sometimes + they're even more clever in the perpetration of it. And you must admit if + ever a woman were capable of crime, Miss Lloyd is of that type.” + </p> + <p> + “I have to agree to that, Parmalee,” I admitted; “she certainly shows + great strength of character.” + </p> + <p> + “She shows more than that; she has indomitable will, unflinching courage, + and lots of pluck. If, for any reason, she made up her mind to kill a man, + she'd find a way to do it.” + </p> + <p> + This talk made me cringe all over, but I couldn't deny it, for so far as I + knew Florence Lloyd, Parmalee's words were quite true. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I said, “I'll grant her capability, but that doesn't prove a + thing. I don't believe that girl is guilty, and I hope to prove her + innocence.” + </p> + <p> + “But look at the evidence, man! She denied her presence in the room, yet + we now know she was there. She denied the ownership of the gold bag, yet + probably she was also untruthful in that matter. She is a woman of a + complex nature, and though I admire her in many ways, I shouldn't care to + have much to do with her.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us leave out the personal note, Parmalee,” I said, for I was angry at + his attitude toward Florence. + </p> + <p> + “All right. Don't you think for a moment that I don't see where you stand + with regard to the haughty beauty, but that's neither here nor there.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed it isn't,” I returned; “and whatever may be my personal feeling + toward Miss Lloyd, I can assure you it in no way influences my work on + this case.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you, old man; and so I'm sure you will agree with me that we + must follow up the inquiry as to Miss Lloyd's presence in the office that + night. She must be made to talk, and perhaps it would be best to tell + Goodrich all about it, and let him push the matter.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” I cried involuntarily. “Don't set him on the track of the poor + girl. That is, Parmalee, let me talk to her again, first. Now that I know + she was down there that night, I think I can question her in a little + different manner, and persuade her to own the truth. And, Parmalee, + perhaps she was down there because Hall was there.” + </p> + <p> + “Hall! He was in New York.” + </p> + <p> + “So he says, but why should he speak the truth any more than Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “You, mean they may both be implicated?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; or he may have used her as a tool.” + </p> + <p> + “Not Florence Lloyd. She's nobody's tool.” + </p> + <p> + “Any woman might be a tool at the command of the man she loves. But,” I + went on, with an air of conviction which was not entirely genuine, “Miss + Lloyd doesn't love Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know about that,” returned Parmalee; “you can't tell about a + woman like Florence Lloyd. If she doesn't love him, she's at least putting + up a bluff of doing so.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe it is a bluff, though I'm sure I don't know why she should do + that.” + </p> + <p> + “On the other hand, why shouldn't she? For some reason she's dead set on + marrying him, ready to give up her fortune to do so, if necessary. He must + have some sort of a pretty strong hold on her.” + </p> + <p> + “I admit all that, and yet I can't believe she loves him. He's such a + commonplace man.” + </p> + <p> + “Commonplace doesn't quite describe him. And yet Gregory Hall, with all + the money in the world, could never make himself distinguished or worth + while in any way.” + </p> + <p> + “No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see in a man like that, to make + her so determined to marry him?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think she is determined, except that Hall has some sort of hold + over her,—a promise or something,—that she can't escape.” + </p> + <p> + My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with Hall, but + I did not allow myself to dwell on that point, for I was determined to go + on with the work, irrespective of my feelings toward her. + </p> + <p> + “You see,” Parmalee went on, “you suspect Hall, only because you're + prejudiced against him.” + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” I exclaimed; “that's an awful thing to say, Parmalee. The + idea of a detective suspecting a man, merely because he doesn't admire his + personality! And besides, it isn't true. If I suspect Hall, it's because I + think he had a strong motive, a possible opportunity, and more than all, + because he refuses to tell where he was Tuesday night.” + </p> + <p> + “But that's just the point, Burroughs. A man who'll commit murder would + fix up his alibi first of all. He would know that his refusal to tell his + whereabouts would be extremely suspicious. No, to my mind it's Hall's + refusal to tell that stamps him as innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in that case, it's the cleverest kind of an alibi he could invent, + for it stamps him innocent at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, come, now, that's going pretty far; but I will say, Burroughs, that + you haven't the least shred of proof against Hall, and you know it. + Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and even a strong desire that he should + be the villain, are all very well. But they won't go far as evidence in a + court of law.” + </p> + <p> + I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, and that so far I had no + proof whatever that Gregory Hall was at all implicated in Mr. Crawford's + death. To be sure he might have worn a yellow rose, and he might have + brought the late newspaper, but there was no evidence to connect him with + those clues, and too, there was the gold bag. It was highly improbable + that that should have been brought to the office and left there by a man. + </p> + <p> + However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not to carry the matter to Mr. + Goodrich until I had had one more interview with Miss Lloyd, and I + promised to undertake that the next morning. + </p> + <p> + After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some very gloomy reflections. + Everything seemed to point one way. Every proof, every suspicion and every + hint more or less implicated Miss Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + But the more I realized this, the more I determined to do all I could for + her, and as to do this, I must gain her confidence, and even liking, I + resolved to approach the subject the next day with the utmost tactfulness + and kindliness, hoping by this means to induce the truth from her. + </p> + <p> + The next morning I started on my mission with renewed hopefulness. + Reaching the Crawford house, I asked for Miss Lloyd, and I was shown into + a small parlor to wait for her. It was a sort of morning room, a pretty + little apartment that I had not been in before; and it was so much more + cheerful and pleasant than the stately library, I couldn't help hoping + that Miss Lloyd, too, would prove more amenable than she had yet been. + </p> + <p> + She soon came in, and though I was beginning to get accustomed to the fact + that she was a creature of variable moods, I was unprepared for this one. + Her hauteur had disappeared; she was apparently in a sweet and gentle + frame of mind. Her large dark eyes were soft and gentle, and though her + red lips quivered, it was not with anger or disdain as they had done the + day before. She wore a plain white morning gown, and a long black necklace + of small beads. The simplicity of this costume suited her well, and threw + into relief her own rich coloring and striking beauty. + </p> + <p> + She greeted me more pleasantly than she had ever done before, and I + couldn't help feeling that the cheerful sunny little room had a better + effect on her moods than the darker furnishings of the library. + </p> + <p> + “I wish,” I began, “that we had not to talk of anything unpleasant this + morning. I wish there were no such thing as untruth or crime in the world, + and that I were calling on you, as an acquaintance, as a friend might + call.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish so, too,” she responded, and as she flashed a glance at me, I had + a glimpse of what it might mean to be friends with Florence Lloyd without + the ugly shadow between us that now was spoiling our tete-a-tete. + </p> + <p> + Just that fleeting glance held in it the promise of all that was + attractive, charming and delightful in femininity. It was as if the veil + of the great, gloomy sorrow had been lifted for a moment, and she was + again an untroubled, merry girl. It seemed too, as if she wished that we + could be together under pleasanter circumstances and could converse on + subjects of less dreadful import. However, all these thoughts that + tumultuously raced through my mind must be thrust aside in favor of the + business in hand. + </p> + <p> + So though I hated to, I began at once. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry, Miss Lloyd, to doubt your word, but I want to tell you myself + rather than to have you learn it from others that I have a witness who has + testified to your presence in your uncle's office that fateful Tuesday + night, although you have said you didn't go down there.” + </p> + <p> + As I had feared, the girl turned white and shivered as if with a dreadful + apprehension. + </p> + <p> + “Who is the witness?” she said. + </p> + <p> + I seemed to read her mind, and I felt at once that to her, the importance + of what I had said depended largely on my answer to this question, and I + paused a moment to think what this could mean. And then it flashed across + me that she was afraid I would say the witness was Gregory Hall. I became + more and more convinced that she was shielding Hall, and I felt sure that + when she learned it was not he, she would feel relieved. However, I had + promised Louis not to let her know that he had told me of seeing her, + unless it should be necessary. + </p> + <p> + “I think I won't tell you that; but since you were seen in the office at + about eleven o'clock, will you not tell me,—I assure you it is for + your own best interests,—what you were doing there, and why you + denied being there?” + </p> + <p> + “First tell me the name of your informer;” and so great was her agitation + that she scarcely breathed the words. + </p> + <p> + “I prefer not to do so, but I may say it is a reliable witness and one who + gave his evidence most unwillingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you will not tell me who he was, will you answer just one + question about him? Was it Mr. Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it was not Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + As I had anticipated, she showed distinctly her relief at my answer. + Evidently she dreaded to hear Hall's name brought into the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “And now, Miss Lloyd, I ask you earnestly and with the best intent, please + to tell me the details of your visit to Mr. Crawford that night in his + office.” + </p> + <p> + She sat silent for a moment, her eyes cast down, the long dark lashes + lying on her pale cheeks. I waited patiently, for I knew she was + struggling with a strong emotion of some sort, and I feared if I hurried + her, her gentle mood would disappear, and she might again become angry or + haughty of demeanor. + </p> + <p> + At last she spoke. The dark lashes slowly raised, and she seemed even more + gentle than at first. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you,” she said. “I see I must. But don't repeat it, unless it + is necessary. Detectives have to know things, but they don't have to tell + them, do they?” + </p> + <p> + “We never repeat confidences, Miss Lloyd,” I replied, “except when + necessary to further the cause of right and justice.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly? Is that so?” + </p> + <p> + She brightened up so much that I began to hope she had only some trifling + matter to tell of. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she went on, “I will tell you, for I know it need not be + repeated in the furtherance of justice. I did go down to my uncle's office + that night, after Mrs. Pierce had been to my room; and it was I—it + must have been I—who dropped those rose petals.” + </p> + <p> + “And left the bag,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she said, and her face looked perplexed, but not confused. “No, the + bag is not mine, and I did not leave it there. I know nothing of it, + absolutely nothing. But I did go to the office at about eleven o'clock. I + had a talk with my uncle, and I left him there a half-hour later—alive + and well as when I went in.” + </p> + <p> + “Was your conversation about your engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it amicable?” + </p> + <p> + “No, it was not! Uncle Joseph was more angry than I had ever before seen + him. He declared he intended to make a new will the next morning, which + would provide only a small income for me. He said this was not revenge or + punishment for my loyalty to Mr. Hall, but—but—” + </p> + <p> + “But what?” I urged gently. + </p> + <p> + “It scarcely seems loyal to Mr. Hall for me to say it,” she returned, and + the tears were in her eyes. “But this is all confidential. Well, Uncle + Joseph said that Gregory only wanted to marry me for my fortune, and that + the new will would prove this. Of course I denied that Mr. Hall was so + mercenary, and then we had a good deal of an altercation. But it was not + very different from many discussions we had had on the same subject, only + Uncle was more decided, and said he had asked Mr. Randolph to come the + next morning and draw up the new will. I left him still angry—he + wouldn't even say good-night to me—and now I blame myself for not + being more gentle, and trying harder to make peace. But it annoyed me to + have him call Gregory mercenary—” + </p> + <p> + “Because you knew it was true,” I said quietly. + </p> + <p> + She turned white to the very lips. “You are unnecessarily impertinent,” + she said. + </p> + <p> + “I am,” I agreed. “I beg your pardon.” But I had discovered that she did + realize her lover's true nature. + </p> + <p> + “And then you went to your room, and stayed there?” I went on, with a + meaning emphasis on the last clause. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said; “and so, you see, what I have told you casts no light on + the mystery. I only told you so as to explain the bits of the yellow rose. + I feared, from what you said, that Mr. Hall's name might possibly be + brought into discussion.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, he was not in West Sedgwick that night,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Where was he?” she countered quickly. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. He refuses to tell. Of course you must see that his + absolute refusal to tell where he was that night is, to say the least, an + unwise proceeding.” + </p> + <p> + “He won't even tell me where he was,” she said, sighing. “But it doesn't + matter. He wasn't here.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just it,” I rejoined. “If he was not here, it would be far better + for him to tell where he really was. For the refusal to tell raises a + question that will not be downed, except by an alibi. I don't want to be + cruel, Miss Lloyd, but I must make you see that as the inquiry proceeds, + the actions of both Mr. Hall and yourself will be subjected to very close + scrutiny, and though perhaps undue attention will be paid to trifles, yet + the trifles must be explained.” + </p> + <p> + I was so sorry for the girl, that, in my effort not to divulge my too + great sympathy, I probably used a sterner tone than I realized. + </p> + <p> + At any rate, I had wakened her at last to a sense of the danger that + threatened her and her lover, and now, if she would let me, I would do all + in my power to save them both. But I must know all she could tell me. + </p> + <p> + “When did Mr. Hall leave you?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “You mean the day—last Tuesday?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “He left here about half-past five. He had been in the office with Uncle + Joseph all the afternoon, and at five o'clock he came in here for a cup of + tea with me. He almost always comes in at tea-time. Then he left about + half-past five, saying he was going to New York on the six o'clock train.” + </p> + <p> + “For what purpose?” + </p> + <p> + “I never ask him questions like that. I knew he was to attend to some + business for Uncle the next day, but I never ask him what he does evenings + when he is in the city, or at any time when he is not with me.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely one might ask such questions of the man to whom she is + betrothed.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of hauteur which always + effectually stopped my “impertinence.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not my habit,” she said. “What Gregory wishes me to know he tells + me of his own accord.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0015" id="link2H_4_0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS + </h2> + <p> + I began on a new tack. + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, and say you did not come + down-stairs again, after going up at ten o'clock?” + </p> + <p> + Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, appealing look came into her eyes, + and she looked to me like a lovely child afraid of unseen dangers. + </p> + <p> + “I was afraid,” she confessed. “Yes, truly, I was afraid that they would + think I had something to do with the—with Uncle Joseph's death. And + as I didn't think it could do any good to tell of my little visit to him, + I just said I didn't come down. Oh, I know it was a lie—I know it + was wicked—but I was so frightened, and it was such an easy way out + of it, just to deny it.” + </p> + <p> + “And why have you confessed it to me now?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “I told you why,” she said: “so you would know where the rose leaves came + from, and not suspect Gregory.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you suspect him?” + </p> + <p> + “N-no, of course not. But others might.” + </p> + <p> + It is impossible to describe the dismay that smote my heart at the + hesitation of this answer. It was more than hesitation. It was a conflict + of unspoken impulses, and the words, when they were uttered, seemed to + carry hidden meanings, and to my mind they carried the worst and most + sinister meaning conceivable. + </p> + <p> + To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to collusion between Florence + Lloyd, whom I already loved, and Gregory Hall, whom I already distrusted + and disliked. Guilty collusion between these two would explain everything. + Theirs the motive, theirs the opportunity, theirs the denials and false + witnessing. The gold bag, as yet, remained unexplained, but the yellow + rose petals and the late newspaper could be accounted for if Hall had come + out on the midnight train, and Florence had helped him to enter and leave + the house unseen. + </p> + <p> + Bah! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold bag remained as proof + against this horrid theory. I would pin my faith to the gold bag, and + through its presence in the room, I would defy suspicions of the two + people I had resolved to protect. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think about the gold bag?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what to think. I hate to accuse Uncle Joseph of such a + thing, but it seems as if some woman friend of his must have come to the + office after I left. The long French windows were open—it was a warm + night, you know—and any one could have come and gone unseen.” + </p> + <p> + “The bag wasn't there when you were there?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure it was not! That is, not in sight, and Uncle Joseph was not the + sort of man to have such a thing put away in his desk as a souvenir, or + for any other reason.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgive the insinuation, but of course you could not know positively that + Mr. Crawford would not have a feminine souvenir in his desk.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up surprised. “Of course I could not be positive,” she said, + “but it is difficult to imagine anything sentimental connected with Uncle + Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + She almost smiled as she said this, for apparently the mere idea was + amusing, and I had a flashing glimpse of what it must be to see Florence + Lloyd smile! Well it should not be my fault, or due to my lack of + exertion, if the day did not come when she should smile again, and I + promised myself I should be there to see it. But stifling these thoughts, + I brought my mind back to duty. Drawing from my pocket the photograph I + had found in Mr. Crawford's desk, I showed it to her. + </p> + <p> + “In Uncle's desk!” she exclaimed. “This does surprise me. I had no idea + Uncle Joseph had received a photograph from a lady with an affectionate + message, too. Are you quite sure it belonged to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I only know that we found it in his desk, hidden beneath some old letters + and papers.” + </p> + <p> + “Were the letters from this lady?” + </p> + <p> + “No; in no case could we find a signature that agreed with these + initials.” + </p> + <p> + “Here's your chance, Mr. Burroughs,” and again Florence Lloyd's dimples + nearly escaped the bondage which held them during these sad days. “If + you're a detective, you ought to gather at once from this photograph and + signature all the details about this lady; who she is, and what she had to + do with Uncle Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could do so,” I replied, “but you see, I'm not that kind of + detective. I have a friend, Mr. Stone, who could do it, and would tell + you, as you say, everything about that lady, merely by looking at her + picture.” + </p> + <p> + As a case in point, I told her then and there the story of Fleming Stone's + wonderful deductions from the pair of muddy shoes we had seen in a hotel + one morning. + </p> + <p> + “But you never proved that it was true?” she asked, her dark eyes + sparkling with interest, and her face alight with animation. + </p> + <p> + “No, but it wasn't necessary. Stone's deductions are always right, and if + not, you know it is the exception that proves the rule.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, let us try to deduce a little from this picture. I don't believe + for a moment, that Uncle Joseph had a romantic attachment for any lady, + though these words on the back of the picture do seem to indicate it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, go on,” said I, so carried away by the fascination of the girl, + when she had for a moment seemed to forget her troubles, that I wanted to + prolong the moment. “Go ahead, and see what inferences you can draw from + the photograph.” + </p> + <p> + “I think she is about fifty years old,” Florence began, “or perhaps + fifty-five. What do you think?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't presume to guess a lady's age,” I returned, “and beside, I + want you to try your powers on this. You may be better at deductions than + I am. I have already confessed to you my inability in that direction.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” she went on, “I think this lady is rather good-looking, and I + think she appreciates the fact.” + </p> + <p> + “The first is evident on the face of it, and the second is a universal + truth, so you haven't really deduced much as yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, that's so,” and she pouted a little. “But at any rate, I can deduce + more about her dress than you can. The picture was taken, or at least that + costume was made, about a year ago, for that is the style that was worn + then.” + </p> + <p> + “Marvellous, Holmes, marvellous!” + </p> + <p> + She flashed me a glance of understanding and appreciation, but undaunted, + went on: “The gown also was not made by a competent modiste, but was made + by a dressmaker in the house, who came in by the day. The lady is of an + economical turn of mind, because the lace yoke of the gown is an old one, + and has even been darned to make it presentable to use in the new gown.” + </p> + <p> + “Now that is deduction,” I said admiringly; “the only trouble is, that it + doesn't do us much good. Somehow I can't seem to fancy this good-looking, + economical, middle-aged lady, who has her dressmaking done at home, coming + here in the middle of the night and killing Mr. Crawford.” + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't, either,” said Florence gravely; “but then, I can't imagine + any one else doing that, either. It seems like a horrible dream, and I + can't realize that it really happened to Uncle Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “But it did happen, and we must find the guilty person. I think with you, + that this photograph is of little value as a clue, and yet it may turn out + to be. And yet I do think the gold bag is a clue. You are quite sure it + isn't yours?” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was a mean way to put the question, but the look of indignation + she gave me helped to convince me that the bag was not hers. + </p> + <p> + “I told you it was not,” she said, “but,” and her eyes fell, “since I have + confessed to one falsehood, of course you cannot believe my statement.” + </p> + <p> + “But I do believe it,” I said, and I did, thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + “At any rate, it is a sort of proof,” she said, smiling sadly, “that any + one who knows anything about women's fashions can tell you that it is not + customary to carry a bag of that sort when one is in the house and in + evening dress. Or rather, in a negligee costume, for I had taken off my + evening gown and wore a tea-gown. I should not think of going anywhere in + a tea-gown, and carrying a gold bag.” + </p> + <p> + The girl had seemingly grown almost lighthearted. Her speech was + punctuated by little smiles, and her half sad, half gay demeanor bewitched + me. I felt sure that what little suggestion of lightheartedness had come + into her mood had come because she had at last confessed the falsehood she + had told, and her freed conscience gave her a little buoyancy of heart. + </p> + <p> + But there were still important questions to be asked, so, though + unwillingly, I returned to the old subject. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see your uncle's will while you were there?” + </p> + <p> + “No; he talked about it, but did not show it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he talk about it as if it were still in his possession?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes; I think so. That is, he said he would make a new one unless I + gave up Gregory. That implied that the old one was still in existence, + though he didn't exactly say so.” + </p> + <p> + “Miss Lloyd, this is important evidence. I must tell you that I shall be + obliged to repeat much of it to the district attorney. It seems to me to + prove that your uncle did not himself destroy the will.” + </p> + <p> + “He might have done so after I left him.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't think it, for it is not in scraps in the waste-basket, nor are + there any paper-ashes in the grate.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then,” she rejoined, “if he didn't destroy it, it may yet be + found.” + </p> + <p> + “You wish that very much?” I said, almost involuntarily. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I do!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands. “Not so much for myself as—” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and I finished the sentence for her “For Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + She looked angry again, but said nothing. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Miss Lloyd,” I said, as I rose to go, “I am going to do everything + in my power in your behalf and in behalf of Mr. Hall. But I tell you + frankly, unless you will both tell me the truth, and the whole truth, you + will only defeat my efforts, and work your own undoing.” + </p> + <p> + I had to look away from her as I said this, for I could not look on that + sweet face and say anything even seemingly harsh or dictatorial. + </p> + <p> + Her lip quivered. “I will do my best,” she said tremblingly. “I will try + to make Mr. Hall tell where he was that night. I will see you again after + I have talked with him.” + </p> + <p> + More collusion! I said good-by rather curtly, I fear, and went quickly + away from that perilous presence. + </p> + <p> + Truly, a nice detective, I! Bowled over by a fair face, I was unable to + think clearly, to judge logically, or to work honestly! + </p> + <p> + Well, I would go home and think it out by myself. Away from her influence + I surely would regain my cool-headed methods of thought. + </p> + <p> + When I reached the inn, I found Mr. Lemuel Porter there waiting for me. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, Mr. Burroughs?” he said pleasantly. “Have you time for a + half-hour's chat?” + </p> + <p> + It was just what I wanted. A talk with this clear-thinking man would help + me, indeed, and I determined to get his opinions, even as I was ready to + give him mine. + </p> + <p> + “Well, what do you think about it all?” I inquired, after we were + comfortably settled at a small table on the shaded veranda, which was a + popular gathering-place at this hour. But in our corner we were in no + danger from listening ears, and I awaited his reply with interest. + </p> + <p> + His eyes smiled a little, as he said, + </p> + <p> + “You know the old story of the man who said he wouldn't hire a dog and + then do his own barking. Well, though I haven't 'hired' you, I would be + quite ready to pay your honorarium if you can ferret out our West Sedgwick + mystery. And so, as you are the detective in charge of the case, I ask + you, what do you think about it all?” + </p> + <p> + But I was pretty thoroughly on my guard now. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” I began, “that much hinges on the ownership of that gold bag.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do not think it is Miss Lloyd's?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not.” + </p> + <p> + “It need not incriminate her, if it were hers,” said Mr. Porter, + meditatively knocking the ash from said his cigar. “She might have left it + in the office at any time previous to the day of the crime. Women are + always leaving such things about. I confess it does not seem to me + important.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it on Mr. Crawford's desk when you were there?” I asked suddenly. + </p> + <p> + He looked up at me quickly, and again that half-smile came into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to be questioned?” he said. “Well, I've no objections, I'm sure. No, + I do not think it was there when I called on Mr. Crawford that evening. + But I couldn't swear to this, for I am not an observant man, and the thing + might have lain there in front of me and never caught my eye. If I had + noticed it, of course I should have thought it was Florence's.” + </p> + <p> + “But you don't think so now, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I can't say I think so. And yet I can imagine a girl untruthfully + denying ownership under such circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + I started at this. For hadn't Miss Lloyd untruthfully denied coming + down-stairs to talk to her uncle? + </p> + <p> + “But,” went on Mr. Porter, “if the bag is not Florence's, then I can think + of but one explanation for its presence there.” + </p> + <p> + “A lady visitor, late at night,” I said slowly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” was the grave reply; “and though such an occurrence might have been + an innocent one, yet, taken in connection with the crime, there is a + dreadful possibility.” + </p> + <p> + “Granting this,” I suggested, “we ought to be able to trace the owner of + the bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Not likely. If the owner of that bag—a woman, presumably—is + the slayer of Joseph Crawford, and made her escape from the scene + undiscovered, she is not likely to stay around where she may be found. And + the bag itself, and its contents, are hopelessly unindividual.” + </p> + <p> + “They are that,” I agreed. “Not a thing in it that mightn't be in any + woman's bag in this country. To me, that cleaner's advertisement means + nothing in connection with Miss Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Burroughs. I confess I have had a + half-fear that your suspicions had a trend in Florence's direction, and I + assure you, sir, that girl is incapable of the slightest impulse toward + crime.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure of that,” I said heartily, my blood bounding in my veins at an + opportunity to speak in defense of the woman I loved. “But how if her + impulses were directed, or even coerced, by another?” + </p> + <p> + “Just what do you mean by that?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing. But sometimes the best and sweetest women will act against + their own good impulses for those they love.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot pretend to misunderstand you,” said Mr. Porter. “But you are + wrong. If the one you have in mind—I will say no name—was in + any way guiltily implicated, it was without the knowledge or connivance of + Florence Lloyd. But, man, the idea is absurd. The individual in question + has a perfect alibi.” + </p> + <p> + “He refuses to give it.” + </p> + <p> + “Refuses the details, perhaps. And he has a right to, since they concern + no one but himself. No, my friend, you know the French rule; well, follow + that, and search for the lady with the gold-mesh bag.” + </p> + <p> + “The lady without it, at present,” I said, with an apologetic smile for my + rather grim jest. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; and that's the difficulty. As she hasn't the bag, we can't discover + her. So as a clue it is worthless.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to be,” I agreed. + </p> + <p> + I thought best not to tell Mr. Porter of the card I had found in the bag, + for I hoped soon to hear from headquarters concerning the lady whose name + it bore. But I told him about the photograph I had found in Mr. Crawford's + desk, and showed it to him. He did not recognize it as being a portrait of + any one he had ever seen. Nor did he take it very seriously as a clue. + </p> + <p> + “I'm quite sure,” he said, “that Joseph Crawford has not been interested + in any woman since the death of his wife. He has always seemed devoted to + her memory, and as one of his nearest friends, I think I would have known + if he had formed any other attachment. Of course, in a matter like this, a + man may well have a secret from his nearest friends, but I cannot think + this mild and gentle-looking lady is at all concerned in the tragedy.” + </p> + <p> + As a matter of fact, I agreed with Mr. Porter, for nothing I had + discovered among the late Mr. Crawford's effects led me to think he had + any secret romance. + </p> + <p> + After Mr. Porter's departure I studied long over my puzzles, and I came to + the conclusion that I could do little more until I should hear from + headquarters. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED + </h2> + <p> + That evening I went to see Philip Crawford. As one of the executors of his + late brother's estate, and as probable heir to the same, he was an + important personage just now. + </p> + <p> + He seemed glad to see me, and glad to discuss ways and means of running + down the assassin. Like Mr. Porter, he attached little importance to the + gold bag. + </p> + <p> + “I can't help thinking it belongs to Florence,” he said. “I know the girl + so well, and I know that her horrified fear of being in any way connected + with the tragedy might easily lead her to, disown her own property, + thinking the occasion justified the untruth. That girl has no more guilty + knowledge of Joseph's death than I have, and that is absolutely none. I + tell you frankly, Mr. Burroughs, I haven't even a glimmer of a suspicion + of any one. I can't think of an enemy my brother had; he was the most + easy-going of men. I never knew him to quarrel with anybody. So I trust + that you, with your detective talent, can at least find a clue to lead us + in the right direction.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't admit the gold bag as a clue, then?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! No! If that were a clue, it would point to some woman who came + secretly at night to visit Joseph. My brother was not that sort of man, + sir. He had no feminine acquaintances that were unknown to his relatives.” + </p> + <p> + “That is, you suppose so.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it! We have been brothers for sixty years or more, and whatever + Joseph's faults, they did not lie in that direction. No, sir; if that bag + is not Florence's, then there is some other rational and commonplace + explanation of its presence there.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm glad to hear you speak so positively, Mr. Crawford, as to your + brother's feminine acquaintances. And in connection with the subject, I + would like to show you this photograph which I found in his desk.” + </p> + <p> + I handed the card to Mr. Crawford, whose features broke into a smile as he + looked at it. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that,” he said; “that is a picture, of Mrs. Patton.” He looked at the + picture with a glance that seemed to be of admiring reminiscence, and he + studied the gentle face of the photograph a moment without speaking. + </p> + <p> + Then he said, “She was beautiful as a girl. She used to be a school friend + of both Joseph and myself.” + </p> + <p> + “She wrote rather an affectionate message on the back,” I observed. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crawford turned the picture over. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, she didn't send this picture to Joseph. She sent it to my wife last + Christmas. I took it over to show it to Joseph some months ago, and left + it there without thinking much about it. He probably laid it in his desk + without thinking much about it, either. No, no, Burroughs, there is no + romance there, and you can't connect Mrs. Patton with any of your + detective investigations.” + </p> + <p> + “I rather thought that, Mr. Crawford; for this is evidently a sweet, + simple-minded lady, and more over nothing has turned up to indicate that + Mr. Crawford had a romantic interest of any kind.” + </p> + <p> + “No, he didn't. I knew Joseph as I know myself. No; whoever killed my + brother, was a man; some villain who had a motive that I know nothing + about.” + </p> + <p> + “But you were intimately acquainted with your brother's affairs?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is what proves to me that whoever this assassin was, it was + some one of whose motive I know nothing. The fact that my brother was + murdered, proves to me that my brother had an enemy, but I had never + suspected it before.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know a Mrs. Egerton Purvis?” + </p> + <p> + I flung the question at him, suddenly, hoping to catch him unawares. But + he only looked at me with the blank expression of one who hears a name for + the first time. + </p> + <p> + “No,” he answered, “I never heard of her. Who is she?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, when I was hunting through that gold-mesh bag, I discovered a + lady's visiting card with that name on it. It had slipped between the + linings, and so had not been noticed before.” + </p> + <p> + To my surprise, this piece of information seemed to annoy Mr. Crawford + greatly. + </p> + <p> + “No!” he exclaimed. “In the bag? Then some one has put it there! for I + looked over all the bag's contents myself.” + </p> + <p> + “It was between the pocket and the lining,” said I; “it is there still, + for as I felt sure no one else would discover it, I left it there. Mr. + Goodrich has the bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't want to see it,” he exclaimed angrily. “And I tell you + anyway, Mr. Burroughs, that bag is worthless as a clue. Take my advice, + and pay no further attention to it.” + </p> + <p> + I couldn't understand Mr. Crawford's decided attitude against the bag as a + clue, but I dropped the subject, for I didn't wish to tell him I had made + plans to trace up that visiting card. + </p> + <p> + “It is difficult to find anything that is a real clue,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed. The whole affair is mysterious, and, for my part, I cannot + form even a conjecture as to who the villain might have been. He certainly + left no trace.” + </p> + <p> + “Where is the revolver?” I said, picturing the scene in imagination. + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford started as if caught unawares. + </p> + <p> + “How do I know?” he cried, almost angrily. “I tell you, I have no + suspicions. I wish I had! I desire, above all things, to bring my + brother's murderer to justice. But I don't know where to look. If the + weapon were not missing, I should think it a suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor declares it could not have been suicide, even if the weapon + had been found near him. This they learned from the position of his arms + and head.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I know it. It was, without doubt, murder. But who—who + would have a motive?” + </p> + <p> + “They say,” I observed, “motives for murder are usually love, revenge, or + money.” + </p> + <p> + “There is no question of love or revenge in this instance. And as for + money, as I am the one who has profited financially, suspicion should rest + on me.” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, it is absurd,” he went on, “for had I desired Joseph's fortune, I + need not have killed him to acquire it. He told me the day before he died + that he intended to disinherit Florence, and make me his heir, unless she + broke with that secretary of his. I tried to dissuade him from this step, + for we are not a mercenary lot, we Crawfords, and I thought I had made him + reconsider his decision. Now, as it turns out, he persisted in his + resolve, and was only prevented from carrying it out by this midnight + assassin. We must find that villain, Mr. Burroughs! Do not consider + expense; do anything you can to track him down.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mr. Crawford,” said I, “if you do not mind the outlay, I advise + that we send for Fleming Stone. He is a detective of extraordinary powers, + and I am quite willing to surrender the case to him.” + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford eyed me keenly. + </p> + <p> + “You give up easily, young man,” he said banteringly. + </p> + <p> + “I know it seems so,” I replied, “but I have my reasons. One is, that + Fleming Stone makes important deductions from seemingly unimportant clues; + and he holds that unless these clues are followed immediately, they are + lost sight of and great opportunities are gone.” + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” mused Philip Crawford, stroking his strong, square chin. “I don't + care much for these spectacular detectives. Your man, I suppose, would + glance at the gold bag, and at once announce the age, sex, and previous + condition of servitude of its owner.” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I have thought, Mr. Crawford. I'm sure he could do just that.” + </p> + <p> + “And that's all the good it would do! That bag doesn't belong to the + criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “By common-sense. No woman came to the house in the dead of night and shot + my brother, and then departed, taking her revolver with her. And again, + granting a woman did have nerve and strength enough to do that, such a + woman is not going off leaving her gold bag behind her as evidence!” + </p> + <p> + This speech didn't affect me much. It was pure conjecture. Women are + uncertain creatures, at best; and a woman capable of murder would be + equally capable of losing her head afterward, and leaving circumstantial + evidence behind her. + </p> + <p> + I was sorry Mr. Crawford didn't seem to take to the notion of sending for + Stone. I wasn't weakening in the case so far as my confidence in my own + ability was concerned; but I could see no direction to look except toward + Florence Lloyd or Gregory Hall, or both. And so I was ready to give up. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of Gregory Hall?” I said suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “As a man or as a suspect?” inquired Mr. Crawford. + </p> + <p> + “Both.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, as a man, I think he's about the average, ordinary young American, + of the secretary type. He has little real ambition, but he has had a good + berth with Joseph, and he has worked fairly hard to keep it. As a suspect, + the notion is absurd. He wasn't even in West Sedgwick.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he went away at six that evening, and was in New York until + nearly noon the next day.” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know?” + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford stared at me. + </p> + <p> + “He says so,” I went on; “but no one can prove his statement. He refuses + to say where he was in New York, or what he did. Now, merely as a + supposition, why couldn't he have come out here—say on the midnight + train—called on Mr. Joseph Crawford, and returned to New York before + daylight?” + </p> + <p> + “Absurd! Why, he had no motive for killing Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “He had the same motive Florence would have. He knew of Mr. Crawford's + objection to their union, and he knew of his threat to change his will. + Mr. Hall is not blind to the advantages of a fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “Right you are, there! In fact, I always felt he was marrying Florence for + her money. I had no real reason to think this, but somehow he gave me that + impression.” + </p> + <p> + “Me, too. Moreover, I found a late extra of a New York paper in Mr. + Crawford's office. This wasn't on sale until about half past eleven that + night, so whoever left it there must have come out from the city on that + midnight train, or later.” + </p> + <p> + A change came over Philip Crawford's face. Apparently he was brought to + see the whole matter in a new light. + </p> + <p> + “What? What's that?” he cried excitedly, grasping his chair-arms and half + rising. “A late newspaper! An extra!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; the liner accident, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “But—but—Gregory Hall! Why man, you're crazy! Hall is a good + fellow. Not remarkably clever, perhaps, and a fortune-hunter, maybe, but + not—surely not a murderer!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't take it so hard, Mr. Crawford,” I broke in. “Probably. Mr. Hall is + innocent. But the late paper must have been left there by some one, after, + say, one o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “This is awful! This is terrible!” groaned the poor man, and I couldn't + help wondering if he had some other evidence against Hall that this seemed + to corroborate. + </p> + <p> + Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and began to talk in more normal + tones. + </p> + <p> + “Now, don't let this new idea run away with you, Mr. Burroughs,” he said. + “If Hall had an interview with my brother that night, he would have + learned from him that he intended to make a new will, but hadn't yet done + so.” + </p> + <p> + “Exactly; and that would constitute a motive for putting Mr. Crawford out + of the way before he could accomplish his purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “But Joseph had already destroyed the will that favored Florence.” + </p> + <p> + “We don't know that,” I responded gravely. “And, anyway, if he had done + so, Mr. Hall didn't know it. This leaves his motive unchanged.” + </p> + <p> + “But the gold bag,” said Mr. Crawford, apparently to get away—from + the subject of Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + “If, as you say,” I began, “that is Florence's bag—” + </p> + <p> + I couldn't go on. A strange sense of duty had forced those words from me, + but I could say no more. + </p> + <p> + Fleming Stone might take the case if they wanted him to; or they might get + some one else. But I could not go on, when the only clues discoverable + pointed in a way I dared not look. + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford was ghastly now. His face was working and he breathed + quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Dad!” cried a strong, young voice, and his son, Philip, Jr., + bounded into the room and grasped his father's hands. “I overheard a few + of your last words, and you two are on the wrong track. Florrie's no more + mixed up in that horrible business than I am. Neither is Hall. He's a fool + chap, but no villain. I heard what you said about the late newspaper, but + lots of people come out on that midnight train. You may as well suspect + some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, as to pick out poor + Hall, without a scrap of evidence to point to him.” + </p> + <p> + I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the boy, and I + plucked up new courage. Apprehension had made me faint-hearted, but if he + could show such flawless confidence in Florence and her betrothed, surely + I could do as much. + </p> + <p> + “Good for you, young man!” I cried, shaking his hand. “You've cheered me + up a lot. I'll take a fresh start, and surely we'll find out something. + But I'd like to send for Stone.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, wait a bit,” said Mr. Crawford. “Phil's right; there's no + possibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter. Leave the gold bag, the + newspapers, and the yellow posies out of consideration, and go to work in + some sensible way.” + </p> + <p> + “How about Mr. Joseph's finances?” I asked. “Are they in satisfactory + shape?” + </p> + <p> + “Never finer,” said Philip Crawford. “Joseph was a very rich man, and all + due to his own clever and careful investments. A bit of a speculator, but + always on the right side of the market. Why, he fairly had a corner in + X.Y. stock. Just that deal—and it will go through in a few days—means + a fortune in itself. I shall settle that on Florence.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you think the will will never be found?” I said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well he might, but he only said, + </p> + <p> + “If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie reinstated in + her own right. If no will turns up, Joe's estate is legally mine, but I + shall see that Florence is amply provided for.” + </p> + <p> + He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had caught him up + so sharply. + </p> + <p> + I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over it all for + a time, I turned in, but to a miserably broken night's rest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0017" id="link2H_4_0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS + </h2> + <p> + The next morning I received information from headquarters. It was a + long-code telegram, and I eagerly deciphered it, to learn that Mrs. + Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a few months in New + York City. She was staying at the Albion Hotel, and seemed to be in every + way above suspicion of any sort. + </p> + <p> + Of course I started off at once to see Mrs. Purvis. + </p> + <p> + Parmalee came just as I was leaving the inn, and was of course anxious and + inquisitive to know where I was going, and what I was going to do. + </p> + <p> + At first I thought I would take him into my confidence, and I even thought + of taking him with me. But I felt sure I could do better work alone. It + might be that Mrs. Egerton Purvis should turn out to be an important + factor in the case, and I suppose it was really an instinct of vanity that + made me prefer to look her up without Parmalee by my side. + </p> + <p> + So I told him that I was going to New York on a matter in connection with + the case, but that I preferred to go alone, but I would tell him the + entire result of my mission as soon as I returned. I think he was a little + disappointed, but he was a good-natured chap, and bade me a cheerful + goodby, saying he would meet me on my return. + </p> + <p> + I went to New York and went straight to the Albion Hotel. + </p> + <p> + Learning at the desk that the lady was really there, I sent my card up to + her with a request for an immediate audience, and very soon I was summoned + to her apartment. + </p> + <p> + She greeted me with that air of frigid reserve typical of an English + woman. Though not unattractive to look at, she possessed the high + cheekbones and prominent teeth which are almost universal in the women of + her nation. She was perhaps between thirty and forty years old, and had + the air of a grande dame. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Burroughs?” she said, looking through her lorgnon at my card, which + she held in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I assented, and judging from her appearance that she was a woman of + a decided and straightforward nature I came at once to the point. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a detective, madam,” I began, and the remark startled her out of her + calm. + </p> + <p> + “A detective!” she cried out, with much the same tone as if I had said a + rattlesnake. + </p> + <p> + “Do not be alarmed, I merely state my profession to explain my errand.” + </p> + <p> + “Not be alarmed! when a detective comes to see me! How can I help it? Why, + I've never had such an experience before. It is shocking! I've met many + queer people in the States, but not a detective! Reporters are bad + enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let it disturb you so, Mrs. Purvis. I assure you there is nothing + to trouble you in the fact of my presence here, unless it is trouble of + your own making.” + </p> + <p> + “Trouble of my own making!” she almost shrieked. “Tell me at once what you + mean, or I shall ring the bell and have you dismissed.” + </p> + <p> + Her fear and excitement made me think that perhaps I was on the track of + new developments, and lest she should carry out her threat of ringing the + bell, I plunged at once into the subject. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Purvis, have you lost a gold-mesh bag?” I said bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “No, I haven't,” she snapped, “and if I had, I should take means to + recover it, and not wait for a detective to come and ask me about it.” + </p> + <p> + I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she might be telling a falsehood + about the bag, but I didn't think so. She was angry, annoyed, and a little + frightened at my intrusion, but she was not at all embarrassed at my + question. + </p> + <p> + “Are you quite sure you have not lost a gold-link bag?” I insisted, as if + in idiotic endeavor to persuade her to have done so. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'm sure,” she replied, half laughing now; “I suppose I should + know it if I had done so.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a rather valuable bag,” I went on, “with a gold frame-work and gold + chain.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if it's worth a whole fortune, it isn't my bag,” she declared; “for + I never owned such a one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” I said, in desperation, “your visiting card is in it.” + </p> + <p> + “My visiting card!” she said, with an expression of blank wonderment. + “Well, even if that is true, it doesn't make it my bag. I frequently give + my cards to other people.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow I couldn't doubt her + assertion that it was not her bag, and yet the thought suddenly occurred + to me if she were clever enough to be implicated in the Crawford tragedy, + and if she had left her bag there, she would be expecting this inquiry, + and would probably be clever enough to have a story prepared. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, I'm going to ask you, in + the interests of justice, to help me all you can.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm quite willing to do so, sir. What is it you wish to know?” + </p> + <p> + “A crime has been committed in a small town in New Jersey. A gold-link bag + was afterward discovered at the scene of the crime, and though none of its + other contents betokened its owner, a visiting card with your name on it + was in the bag.” + </p> + <p> + Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis seemed to get over her + fright, and was exceedingly sensible for a woman. + </p> + <p> + “It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, and if my card is in it, I can + only say that I must have given that card to the lady who owns the bag.” + </p> + <p> + This seemed distinctly plausible, and also promised further information. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember giving your card to any lady with such a bag?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Purvis smiled. “So many of your American women carry those bags,” she + said; “they seem to be almost universal this year. I have probably given + my card to a score of ladies, who immediately put it into just such a + bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you tell me who they are?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed;” and Mrs. Purvis almost laughed outright, at what was + doubtless a foolish question. + </p> + <p> + “But can't you help me in any way?” I pleaded. + </p> + <p> + “I don't really see how I can,” she replied. “You see I have so many + friends in New York, and they make little parties for me, or afternoon + teas. Then I meet a great many American ladies, and we often exchange + cards. But we do it so often that of course I can't remember every + particular instance. Have you the card you speak of?” + </p> + <p> + I thanked my stars that I had been thoughtful enough to obtain the card + before leaving West Sedgwick, and taking it from my pocket-book, I gave it + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that one!” she said; “perhaps I can help you a little, Mr. Burroughs. + That is an old-fashioned card, one of a few left over from an old lot. I + have been using them only lately, because my others gave out. I have + really gone much more into society in New York than I had anticipated, and + my cards seemed fairly to melt away. I ordered some new ones here, but + before they were sent to me I was obliged to use a few of these + old-fashioned ones. I don't know that this would help you, but I think I + can tell pretty nearly to whom I gave those cards.” + </p> + <p> + It seemed a precarious sort of a chance, but as I talked with Mrs. Purvis, + I felt more and more positive that she herself was not implicated in the + Crawford case. However, it was just as well to make certain. She had gone + to her writing-desk, and seemed to be looking over a diary or engagement + book. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Purvis,” I said, “will you tell me where you were on Tuesday evening + of last week?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly;” and she turned back the leaves of the book. “I went to a + theatre party with my friends, the Hepworths; and afterward, we went to a + little supper at a restaurant. I returned here about midnight. Must I + prove this?” she added, smiling; “for I can probably do so, by the hotel + clerk and by my maid. And, of course, by my friends who gave the party.” + </p> + <p> + “No, you needn't prove it,” I answered, certain now that she knew nothing + of the Crawford matter; “but I hope you can give me more information about + your card.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, I remember that very night, I gave my cards to two ladies who were + at the theatre with us; and I remember now that at that time I had only + these old-fashioned cards. I was rather ashamed of them, for Americans are + punctilious in such matters; and now that I think of it, one of the ladies + was carrying a gold-mesh bag.” + </p> + <p> + “Who was she?” I asked, hardly daring to hope that I had really struck the + trail. + </p> + <p> + “I can't seem to remember her name, but perhaps it will come to me. It was + rather an English type of name, something like Coningsby.” + </p> + <p> + “Where did she live?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't the slightest idea. You see I meet these ladies so casually, + and I really never expect to see any of them again. Our exchange of cards + is a mere bit of formal courtesy. No, I can't remember her name, or where + she was from. But I don't think she was a New Yorker.” + </p> + <p> + Truly it was hard to come so near getting what might be vital information, + and yet have it beyond my grasp! It was quite evident that Mrs. Purvis was + honestly trying to remember the lady's name, but could not do so. + </p> + <p> + And then I had what seemed to me an inspiration. “Didn't she give you her + card?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + A light broke over Mrs. Purvis's face. “Why, yes, of course she did! And + I'm sure I can find it.” + </p> + <p> + She turned to a card-tray, and rapidly running over the bits of + pasteboard, she selected three or four. + </p> + <p> + “Here they are,” she exclaimed, “all here together. I mean all the cards + that were given me on that particular evening. And here is the name I + couldn't think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I remember distinctly that she + carried a gold bag, and no one else in the party did, for we were admiring + it. And here is her address on the card; Marathon Park, New Jersey.” + </p> + <p> + I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of the discovery. Had I + really found the name and address of the owner of the gold bag? Of course + there might be a slip yet, but the evidence seemed clear that Mrs. + Cunningham, of Marathon Park, owned the bag that had been the subject of + so much speculation. + </p> + <p> + I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, but that was a mere detail. I + thanked Mrs. Purvis sincerely for the help she had given me, and I was + glad I had not told her that her casual acquaintance was perhaps + implicated in a murder mystery. + </p> + <p> + I made my adieux and returned at once to West Sedgwick. + </p> + <p> + As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the station, and I told him the + whole story, for I thought him entitled to the information at once. + </p> + <p> + “Why, man alive!” he exclaimed, “Marathon Park is the very next station to + West Sedgwick!” + </p> + <p> + “So it is!” I said; “I knew I had a hazy idea of having seen the name, but + the trains I have taken to and from New York have been expresses, which + didn't stop there, and I paid no attention to it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a small park,” went on Parmalee, “of swagger residences; very + exclusive and reserved, you know. You've certainly unearthed startling + news, but I can't help thinking that it will be a wild goose chase that + leads us to look for our criminal in Marathon Park!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you think we'd better do?” said I. “Go to see Mrs. Cunningham?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I wouldn't do that,” said Parmalee, who had a sort of plebeian + hesitancy at the thought of intruding upon aristocratic strangers. + “Suppose you write her a letter and just ask her if she has lost her bag.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” I conceded, for truth to tell, I greatly preferred to stay in + West Sedgwick than to go out of it, for I had always the undefined hope of + seeing Florence Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + So I wrote a letter, not exactly curt, but strictly formal, asking Mrs. + Cunningham if she had recently lost a gold-mesh bag, containing her gloves + and handkerchief. + </p> + <p> + Then Parmalee and I agreed to keep the matter a secret until we should get + a reply to this, for we concluded there was no use in stirring up public + curiosity on the matter until we knew ourselves that we were on the right + trail. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0018" id="link2H_4_0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG + </h2> + <p> + The next day I received a letter addressed in modish, angular penmanship, + which, before I opened it, I felt sure had come from Mrs. Cunningham. It + ran as follows, + </p> + <p> + Mr. HERBERT Burroughs, + </p> + <p> + Dear Sir: Yes, I have lost a gold bag, and I have known all along that it + is the one the newspapers are talking so much about in connection with the + Crawford case. I know, too, that you are the detective on the case, and + though I can't imagine how you did it, I think it was awfully clever of + you to trace the bag to me, for I'm sure my name wasn't in it anywhere. As + I say, the bag is mine, but I didn't kill Mr. Crawford, and I don't know + who did. I would go straight to you, and tell you all about it, but I am + afraid of detectives and lawyers, and I don't want to be mixed up in the + affair anyway. But I am going to see Miss Lloyd, and explain it all to + her, and then she can tell you. Please don't let my name get in the + papers, as I hate that sort of prominence. + </p> + <p> + Very truly yours, + </p> + <p> + ELIZABETH CUNNINGHAM. + </p> + <p> + I smiled a little over the femininity of the letter, but as Parmalee had + prophesied, Marathon Park was evidently no place to look for our criminal. + </p> + <p> + The foolish little woman who had written that letter, had no guilty secret + on her conscience, of that I was sure. + </p> + <p> + I telephoned for Parmalee and showed him the letter. + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't help us in one way,” he said, “for of course, Mrs. Cunningham + is not implicated. But the bag is still a clue, for how did it get into + Mr. Crawford's office?” + </p> + <p> + “We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is,” I suggested. + </p> + <p> + “He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag there, he + never would have let her send this letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he didn't know she wrote it.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs. + Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us go over to the Crawford house, and tell Miss Lloyd about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the little lady + won't get around so soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Why a little lady?” I asked, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little yellow-haired + butterfly of a woman.” + </p> + <p> + “Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd,” I said musingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing a letter like that. There's + lots of personality in a woman's letter. Much more than in a man's.” + </p> + <p> + Parmalee went away, and prompted by his suggestions, I studied the letter + I had just received. It was merely an idle fancy, for if Mrs. Cunningham + was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it made little difference to me + what might be her stature or the color of her hair. But, probably because + of Parmalee's suggestion, I pictured her to myself as a pretty young woman + with that air of half innocence and half ignorance which so well becomes + the plump blonde type. + </p> + <p> + The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was a pleasant place to sit, and I + had mused there for some time, when Mr. Carstairs came out to tell me that + I was asked for on the telephone. The call proved to be from Florence + Lloyd asking me to come to her at once. + </p> + <p> + Only too glad to obey this summons, I went directly to the Crawford house, + wondering if any new evidence had been brought to light. + </p> + <p> + Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered me into the library, where + Florence was receiving a lady caller. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Cunningham,” said Florence, as I entered, “may I present Mr. + Burroughs—Mr. Herbert Burroughs. I sent for you,” she added, turning + to me, “because Mrs. Cunningham has an important story to tell, and I + thought you ought to hear it at once.” + </p> + <p> + I bowed politely to the stranger, and awaited her disclosures. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cunningham was a pretty, frivolous-looking woman, with appealing blue + eyes, and a manner half-childish, half-apologetic. + </p> + <p> + I smiled involuntarily to see how nearly her appearance coincided with the + picture in my mind, and I greeted her almost as if she were a previous + acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “I know I've done very wrong,” she began, with a nervous little flutter of + her pretty hands; “but I'm ready now to 'fess up, as the children say.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me, so sure of an answering smile, that I gave it, and said, + </p> + <p> + “Let us hear your confession, Mrs. Cunningham; I doubt if it's a very + dreadful one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see,” she went on, “that gold bag is mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said; “how did it get here?” + </p> + <p> + “I've no idea,” she replied, and I could see that her shallow nature + fairly exulted in the sensation she was creating. “I went to New York that + night, to the theatre, and I carried my gold bag, and I left it in the + train when I got out at the station.” + </p> + <p> + “West Sedgwick?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “No; I live at Marathon Park, the next station to this.” + </p> + <p> + “Next on the way to New York?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. And when I got out of the train—I was with my husband and some + other people—we had been to a little theatre party—I missed + the bag. But I didn't tell Jack, because I knew he'd scold me for being so + careless. I thought I'd get it back from the Lost and Found Department, + and then, the very next day, I read in the paper about the—the—awful + accident, and it told about a gold bag being found here.” + </p> + <p> + “You recognized it as yours?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course; for the paper described everything in it—even to the + cleaner's advertisement that I'd just cut out that very day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you come and claim it at once?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Burroughs, you must know why I didn't! Why, I was scared 'most to + death to read the accounts of the terrible affair; and to mix in it, + myself—ugh! I couldn't dream of anything so horrible.” + </p> + <p> + It was absurd, but I had a desire to shake the silly little bundle of + femininity who told this really important story, with the twitters and + simpers of a silly school-girl. + </p> + <p> + “And you would not have come, if I had not written you?” + </p> + <p> + She hesitated. “I think I should have come soon, even without your + letter.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mrs. Cunningham?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I kept it secret as long as I could, but yesterday Jack saw that I + had something on my mind. I couldn't fool him any longer.” + </p> + <p> + “As to your having a mind!” I said to myself, but I made no comment aloud. + </p> + <p> + “So I told him all about it, and he said I must come at once and tell Miss + Lloyd, because, you see, they thought it was her bag all the time.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said gravely; “it would have been better if you had come at + first, with your story. Have you any one to substantiate it, or any proofs + that it is the truth?” + </p> + <p> + The blue eyes regarded me with an injured expression. Then she brightened + again. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, I can `prove property'; that's what you mean, isn't it? I can + tell you which glove finger is ripped, and just how much money is in the + bag, and—and here's a handkerchief exactly like the one I carried + that night. Jack said if I told you all these things, you'd know it's my + bag, and not Miss Lloyd's.” + </p> + <p> + “And then, there was a card in it.” + </p> + <p> + “A card? My card?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not your card; a card with another name on it. Don't you know whose?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Cunningham thought for a moment. Then, “Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. + “Mrs. Purvis gave me her card, and I tucked it in the pocket of the bag. + Was that the way you discovered the bag was mine? And how did that make + you know it.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you about that some other time if you wish, Mrs. Cunningham; + but just now I want to get at the important part of your story. How did + your gold bag get in Mr. Crawford's office?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, how did it?” The laughing face was sober now and she seemed appalled + at the question. “Jack says some one must have found it in the car-seat + where I left it, and he”—she lowered her voice—“he must be the—” + </p> + <p> + “The murderer,” I supplied calmly. “It does look that way. You have + witnesses, I suppose, who saw you in that train?” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy, yes! Lots of them. The train reaches Marathon Park at 12: 50, and + is due here at one o'clock. Ever so many people got out at our station. + There were six in our own party, and others besides. And the conductor + knows me, and everybody knows Jack. He's Mr. John Le Roy Cunningham.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to doubt all this. Further corroboration it might be + well to get, but there was not the slightest question in my mind as to the + little lady's truthfulness. + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham,” I said, “for coming to us with your story. + You may not be able to get your bag to-day, but I assure you it will, be + sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can be made. These are merely for + the sake of formalities, for, as you say, your fellow townspeople can + certify to your presence on the train, and your leaving it at the Marathon + Park station.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied; “and”—she handed me a paper—“there's my + husband's address, and his lawyer's address, and the addresses of all the + people that were in our party that night. Jack said you might like to have + the list. He would have come himself to-day, only he's fearfully busy. And + I said I didn't mind coming alone, just to see Miss Lloyd. I wouldn't have + gone to a jury meeting, though. And I'm in no hurry for the bag. In fact, + I don't care much if I never get it. It wasn't the value of the thing that + made me come at all, but the fear that my bag might make trouble for Miss + Lloyd. Jack said it might. I don't see how, myself, but I'm a foolish + little thing, with no head for business matters.” She shook her head, and + gurgled an absurd little laugh, and then, after a loquacious leave-taking, + she went away. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” I said to Florence, and then, “Well?” Florence said to me. + </p> + <p> + It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance had progressed. Already we + had laid aside all formality of speech and manner, and if the girl had not + really discovered my mental attitude toward her, at least I think she must + have suspected it. + </p> + <p> + “Of course,” I began, “I knew it wasn't your bag, because you said it + wasn't. But I did incline a little to the `woman visitor' theory, and now + that is destroyed. I think we must conclude that the bag was brought here + by the person who found it on that midnight train.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't that person turn it over to the conductor?” she said, more as + if thinking to herself than speaking to me. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, why, indeed?” I echoed. “And if he brought it here, and committed a + criminal act, why go away and leave it here?” + </p> + <p> + I think it was at the same moment that the minds of both of us turned to + Gregory Hall. Her eyes fell, and as for me, I was nearly stunned with the + thoughts that came rushing to my brain. + </p> + <p> + If the late newspaper had seemed to point to Hall's coming out on that + late train, how much more so this bag, which had been left on that very + train. + </p> + <p> + We were silent for a time, and then, lifting her sweet eyes bravely to + mine, Florence said, + </p> + <p> + “I have something to tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I replied, crushing down the longing to take her in my arms and let + her tell it there. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hall had a talk with me this morning. He says that he and the others + have searched everywhere possible for the will, and it cannot be found. He + says Uncle Joseph must have destroyed it, and that it is practically + settled that Uncle Philip is the legal heir. Of course, Mr. Philip + Crawford isn't my uncle, but I have always called him that, and Phil and I + have been just like cousins.” + </p> + <p> + “What else did Mr. Hall say?” I asked, for I divined that the difficult + part of her recital was yet to come. + </p> + <p> + “He said,” she went on, with a rising color, “that he wished me to break + our engagement.” + </p> + <p> + I will do myself the justice to say that although my first uncontrollable + thought was one of pure joy at this revelation, yet it was instantly + followed by sympathy and consideration for her. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” I asked in a voice that I tried to keep from being hard. + </p> + <p> + “He says,” she continued, with a note of weariness in her voice, “that he + is not a rich man, and cannot give me the comforts and luxuries to which I + have been accustomed, and that therefore it is only right for him to + release me.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you didn't accept his generous sacrifice,” I said; and my own + hopes ran riot as I listened for her answer. + </p> + <p> + “I told him I was willing to share poverty with him,” she said, with a + quiet dignity, as if telling an impersonal tale, “but he insisted that the + engagement should be broken.” + </p> + <p> + “And is it?” I asked eagerly, almost breathlessly. + </p> + <p> + She gave me that look which always rebuked me—always put me back in + my place—but which, it seemed to me, was a little less severe than + ever before. “It's left undecided for a day or two,” she said. Then she + added hurriedly, + </p> + <p> + “I must see if he needs me. Do you suppose this story of Mrs. Cunningham's + will in any way—well, affect him?” + </p> + <p> + “It may,” I replied truthfully. “At any rate, he must be made to tell + where he was and what he was doing Tuesday night. You have no idea, have + you?” + </p> + <p> + Florence hesitated a moment, looked at me in a way I could not fathom, and + then, but only after a little choking sound in her throat, she said, + </p> + <p> + “No, I have no idea.” + </p> + <p> + It was impossible to believe her. No one would show such emotion, such + difficulty of speech, if telling a simple truth. Yet when I looked in her + troubled eyes, and read there anxiety, uncertainty, and misery, I only + loved her more than ever. Truly it was time for me to give up this case. + Whatever turn it took, I was no fit person to handle clues or evidence + which filled me with deadly fear lest they turn against the one I loved. + </p> + <p> + And yet that one, already suspected by many, had been proved to have both + motive and opportunity. + </p> + <p> + And I, I who loved her, knew that, in one instance, at least, she had been + untruthful. + </p> + <p> + Yes, it was high time for me to give this case into other hands. + </p> + <p> + I looked at her again, steadily but with a meaning in my glance that I + hoped she would understand. I wanted her to know, that though of course + justice was my end and aim, yet I was sure the truth could not implicate + her, and if it did implicate Mr. Hall, the sooner we discovered it the + better. + </p> + <p> + I think she appreciated my meaning, for the troubled look in her own eyes + disappeared, and she seemed suddenly almost willing to give me her full + confidence. + </p> + <p> + I resolved to make the most of my opportunity. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you know,” I said gently, “that I want to believe all you say + to me. But, Miss Lloyd, your naturally truthful nature so rebels at your + unveracity, that it is only too plain to be seen when you are not telling + the truth. Now, I do not urge you, but I ask you to tell me, + confidentially if you choose, what your surmise is as to Mr. Hall's + strange reticence.” + </p> + <p> + “It is only a surmise,” she said, and though the troubled look came back + to her eyes, she looked steadily at me. “And I have no real reason even to + think it, but I can't help feeling that Gregory is interested in some + other woman beside myself.” + </p> + <p> + Again I felt that uncontrollable impulse of satisfaction at this + disclosure, and again I stifled it. I endeavored to treat the matter + lightly. “Is that all?” I asked; “do you mean that perhaps Mr. Hall was + calling on some other lady acquaintance that evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is what I do mean. And, as I say, I have no real reason to + think it. But still, Mr. Burroughs, if it were true, I cannot agree with + you that it is unimportant. Surely a man is not expected to call on one + woman when he is betrothed to another, or at least, not to make a secret + of it.” + </p> + <p> + I thoroughly agreed with her, and my opinion that Hall was a cad received + decided confirmation. + </p> + <p> + “My treating it as a light matter, Miss Lloyd, was not quite sincere. + Indeed, I may as well confess that it was partly to cover the too serious + interest I take in the matter.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up, startled at this, but as my eyes told her a certain truth I + made no effort to conceal, she looked down again, and her lip quivered. + </p> + <p> + I pulled myself together. “Don't think I am taking advantage of your + confidence,” I said gently; “I want only to help you. Please consider me + an impersonal factor, and let me do all I can for you. For the moment, let + us suppose your surmise is correct. This would, of course, free Mr. Hall + from any implication of crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and while I can't suspect him of anything like crime, I hate, also, + to suspect him of disloyalty to me.” + </p> + <p> + Her head went up with a proud gesture, and I suddenly knew that the + thought of Hall's interest in another woman, affected her pride and her + sense of what was due her, far more than it did her heart. Her fear was + not so much that Hall loved another woman, as that his secrecy in the + matter meant a slight to her own dignified position. + </p> + <p> + “I understand, Miss Lloyd, and I hope for the sake of all concerned, your + surmise is not correct. But, with your permission, I feel it my duty to + discover where Mr. Hall was that evening, even if to do this it is + necessary to have professional assistance from headquarters.” + </p> + <p> + She shuddered at this. “It is so horrid,” she said, “to spy upon a + gentleman's movements, if he is only engaged in his personal affairs.” + </p> + <p> + “If we were sure of that, we need not spy upon him. But to the eye of + justice there is always the possibility that he was not about his personal + affairs that evening, but was here in West Sedgwick.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't really suspect him, do you?” she said; and she looked at me as + if trying to read my very soul. + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I do,” I answered gravely; “but not so much from evidence + against him, as because I don't know where else to look. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Florence Lloyd. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0019" id="link2H_4_0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XVIII. IN Mr. GOODRICH'S OFFICE + </h2> + <p> + As was my duty I went next to the district attorney's office to tell him + about Mrs. Cunningham and the gold bag, and to find out from him anything + I could concerning Gregory Hall. I found Mr. Porter calling there, and + both he and Mr. Goodrich welcomed me as a possible bringer of fresh news. + When I said that I did know of new developments, Mr. Porter half rose from + his chair. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say I've no business here,” he said; “but you know the deep + interest I take in this whole matter. Joseph Crawford was my lifelong + friend and near neighbor, and if I can be in any way instrumental in + freeing Florence from this web of suspicion—” + </p> + <p> + I turned on him angrily, and interrupted him by saying, + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mr. Porter; no one has as yet voiced a suspicion against Miss + Lloyd. For you to put such a thought into words, is starting a mine of + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + The older man looked at me indulgently, and I think his shrewd perceptions + told him at once that I was more interested in Miss Lloyd than a mere + detective need be. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” he said; “but I considered this a confidential session.” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” broke in Mr. Goodrich, “and if you will stay, Mr. Porter, I shall + be glad to have you listen to whatever Mr. Burroughs has to tell us, and + then give us the benefit of your advice.” + </p> + <p> + I practically echoed the district attorney's words, for I knew Lemuel + Porter to be a clear-headed and well-balanced business man, and his + opinions well worth having. + </p> + <p> + So it was to two very interested hearers that I related first the story of + Florence's coming downstairs at eleven o'clock on the fatal night, for a + final endeavor to gain her uncle's consent to her betrothal. + </p> + <p> + “Then it was her bag!” exclaimed Mr. Porter. “I thought so all the time.” + </p> + <p> + I said nothing at the moment and listened for Mr. Goodrich's comment. + </p> + <p> + “To my mind,” said the district attorney slowly, “this story, told now by + Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. If the girl were guilty, or had any guilty + knowledge of the crime, she would not have told of this matter at all. It + was not forced from her; she told it voluntarily, and I, for one, believe + it.” + </p> + <p> + “She told it,” said I, “because she wished to take the responsibility of + the fallen rose petals upon herself. Since we are speaking plainly, I may + assure you, gentlemen, that she told of her later visit to the office + because I hinted to her that the yellow leaves might implicate Gregory + Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, “she herself suspects Mr. Hall, + which proves that she is innocent.” + </p> + <p> + “It doesn't prove her innocent of collusion,” observed Mr. Porter. + </p> + <p> + “Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall,” I added. “It merely shows + that she fears others may suspect him.” + </p> + <p> + “It is very complicated,” said the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “It is,” I agreed, “and that is why I wish to send for the famous + detective, Fleming Stone.” + </p> + <p> + “Stone! Nonsense!” exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. “I have every confidence in + your skill, Mr. Burroughs; I would not insult you by calling in another + detective.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely not,” agreed Mr. Porter. “If you need help, Mr. Burroughs, confer + with our local man, Mr. Parmalee. He's a pretty clever chap, and I don't + know why you two don't work more together.” + </p> + <p> + “We do work together,” said I. “Mr. Parmalee is both clever and congenial, + and we have done our best in the matter. But the days are going by and + little of real importance has been discovered. However, I haven't told you + as yet, the story of the gold bag. I have found its owner.” + </p> + <p> + Of course there were exclamations of surprise at this, but realizing its + importance they quietly listened to my story. + </p> + <p> + With scarcely a word of interruption from my hearers, I told them how I + had found the card in the bag, how I had learned about Mrs. Purvis from + headquarters, how I had gone to see her, and how it had all resulted in + Mrs. Cunningham's visit to Miss Lloyd that morning. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” exclaimed Mr. Porter, as I concluded the narrative. “Well! Of all + things! Well, I am amazed! Why, this gives a wide scope of possibilities. + Scores of our people come out on that theatre train every night.” + </p> + <p> + “But not scores of people would have a motive for putting Joseph Crawford + out of the way,” said Mr. Goodrich, who sat perplexedly frowning. + </p> + <p> + Then, by way of a trump card, I told them of the “extra” edition of the + evening paper I had found in the office. + </p> + <p> + The district attorney stared at me, but still sat frowning and silent. + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Porter expressed his wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “How it all fits in!” he cried. “The bag, known to be from that late + train; the paper, known to have been bought late in New York! Burroughs, + you're a wonder! Indeed, we don't want any Fleming Stone, when you can do + such clever sleuthing as this.” + </p> + <p> + I stared at him. Nothing I had done seemed to me “clever sleuthing,” nor + did my simple discoveries seem to me of any great significance. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like it,” said Mr. Goodrich, at last. “Everything so far known, + both early and late information, seems to me to point to Gregory Hall and + Florence Lloyd in collusion.” + </p> + <p> + “But you said,” I interrupted, “that Miss Lloyd's confession that she did + go down-stairs late at night was in her favor.” + </p> + <p> + “I said that before I knew about this bag story. Now I think the case is + altered, and the two who had real motive are undoubtedly the suspects.” + </p> + <p> + “But they had no motive,” said Mr. Porter, “since Florence doesn't inherit + the fortune.” + </p> + <p> + “But they thought she did,” explained the district attorney, “and so the + motive was just as strong. Mr. Burroughs, I wish you would confer with Mr. + Parmalee, and both of you set to work on the suggestions I have advanced. + It is a painful outlook, to be sure, but justice is inexorable. You agree + with me, Mr. Porter?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porter started, as if he, too, had been in a brown study. + </p> + <p> + “I do and I don't,” he said. “Personally, I think both those young people + are innocent, but if I am correct, no harm will be done by a further + investigation of their movements on Tuesday night. I think Mr. Hall ought + to tell where he was that night, if only in self-defense. If he proves he + was in New York, and did not come out here, it will not only clear him, + but also Florence. For I think no one suspects her of anything more than + collusion with him.” + </p> + <p> + Of course I had no mind to tell these men what Florence had told me + confidentially about Mr. Hall's possible occupation Tuesday evening. They + were determined to investigate that very question, and so, if her surmise + were correct, it would disclose itself. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” I said, after listening to a little further discussion, which + was really nothing but repetition, “then I will consult with Mr. Parmalee, + and we will try to make further investigation of Mr. Hall's doings. But + I'm ready to admit that it does not look easy to me to discover anything + of importance. Mr. Hall is a secretive man, and unless we have a definite + charge against him it is difficult to make him talk.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you can certainly learn something,” said Mr. Goodrich. “At any rate + devote a few days to the effort. I have confidence in you, Mr. Burroughs, + and I don't think you need call in a man whom you consider your superior. + But if you'll excuse me for making a suggestion, let me ask you to + remember that a theory of Hall's guilt also possibly implicates Miss + Lloyd. You will probably discover this for yourself, but don't let your + natural chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personal element in this + case, blind you to the facts.” + </p> + <p> + Although he put it delicately, I quite understood that he had noticed my + personal interest in Florence Lloyd, and so, as it was my duty to + disregard that interest in my work, I practically promised to remember his + injunction. + </p> + <p> + It was then that I admitted to myself the true state of my mind. I felt + sure Florence was innocent, but I knew appearances were strongly against + her, and I feared I should bungle the case because of the very intensity + of my desire not to. And I thought that Fleming Stone, in spite of + evidence, would be able to prove what I felt was the truth, that Florence + was guiltless of all knowledge of or complicity in her uncle's death. + </p> + <p> + However, I had promised to go on with the quest, and I urged myself on, + with the hope that further developments might clear Florence, even if they + more deeply implicated Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the matter, + and methodically recording my conclusions. And, while I thought, I became + more and more convinced that, whether Florence connived or not, Hall was + the villain, and that he had actually slain his employer because he had + threatened to disinherit his niece. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that night, Mr. Crawford was + already engaged in drawing up the new will, and in order to purloin it + Hall had killed him, not knowing that the other will was already + destroyed. And destroyed it must be, for surely Hall had no reason to + steal or suppress the will that favored Florence. + </p> + <p> + As a next move, I decided to interview Mr. Hall. + </p> + <p> + Such talks as I had had with him so far, had been interrupted and + unsatisfactory. Now I would see him alone, and learn something from his + manner and appearance. + </p> + <p> + I found him, as I had expected, in the office of his late employer. He was + surrounded with papers, and was evidently very busy, but he greeted me + with a fair show of cordiality, and offered me a chair. + </p> + <p> + “I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall,” I said, “and as I see you're + busy, I will be as brief as possible.” + </p> + <p> + “I've been expecting you,” said he calmly. “In fact, I'm rather surprised + that you haven't been here before.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” said I, eying him closely. + </p> + <p> + “Only because the inquiries made at the inquest amounted to very little, + and I assumed you would question all the members of the household again.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not sure that's necessary,” I responded, following his example in + adopting a light, casual tone. “I have no reason to suspect that the + servants told other than the exact truth. I have talked to both the + ladies, and now I've only a few questions to put to you.” + </p> + <p> + He looked up, surprised at my self-satisfied air. + </p> + <p> + “Have you nailed the criminal?” he asked, with a greater show of interest + than he had before evinced. + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly nailed him, perhaps. But we fancy we are on the scent.” + </p> + <p> + “Resent what?” he asked, looking blank. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say `resent.' I said, we are on the scent.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes. And in what direction does it lead you?” + </p> + <p> + “In your direction,” I said, willing to try what effect bluntness might + have upon this composed young man. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” he said, as if he hadn't heard me. + </p> + <p> + “Evidences are pointing toward you as the criminal,” I said, determined to + disturb his composure if I could. + </p> + <p> + Instead of showing surprise or anger, he gave a slight smile, as one would + at an idea too ridiculous to be entertained for an instant. Somehow, that + smile was more convincing to me than any verbal protestation could have + been. + </p> + <p> + Then I realized that the man was doubtless a consummate actor, and he had + carefully weighed the value of that supercilious smile against + asseverations of innocence. So I went on: + </p> + <p> + “When did you first learn of the accident to the Atlantic liner, the North + America?” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you mean that question for a trap,” he said coolly; “but I + haven't the least objection to answering it. I bought a late 'extra' in + New York City the night of the disaster.” + </p> + <p> + “At what hour did you buy it?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know exactly. It was some time after midnight.” + </p> + <p> + Really, there was little use in questioning this man. If he had bought his + paper at half-past eleven, as I felt positive he did, and if he had come + out to Sedgwick on the twelve o'clock train, he was quite capable of + answering me in this casual way, to throw me off the track. + </p> + <p> + Well, I would try once again. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Mr. Hall, but I am obliged to ask you some personal questions + now. Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” + </p> + <p> + His continued requests for me to repeat my questions irritated me beyond + endurance. Of course it was a bluff to gain time, but he did it so + politely, I couldn't rebuke him. + </p> + <p> + “Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?” I repeated. + </p> + <p> + “No, I think not,” he said slowly. “She wants to break it off, and I, as a + poor man, should not stand in the way of her making a brilliant marriage. + She has many opportunities for such, as her uncle often told me, and I + should be selfish indeed, now that she herself is poor, to hold her to her + promise to me.” + </p> + <p> + The hypocrite! To lay on Florence the responsibility for breaking the + engagement. Truly, she was well rid of him, and I hoped I could convince + her of the fact. + </p> + <p> + “But she is not so poor,” I said. “Mr. Philip Crawford told me he intends + to provide for her amply. And I'm sure that means a fair-sized fortune, + for the Crawfords are generous people.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall's manner changed. + </p> + <p> + “Did Philip Crawford say that?” he cried. “Are you sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I'm sure, as he said it to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Florence and I may be happy yet,” he said; and as I looked him + straight in the eye, he had the grace to look ashamed of himself, and, + with a rising color, he continued: “I hope you understand me, Mr. + Burroughs. No man could ask a girl to marry him if he knew that meant + condemning her to comparative poverty.” + </p> + <p> + “No, of course not,” said I sarcastically. “Then I assume that, so far as + you are concerned, your engagement with Miss Lloyd is not broken?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means. In fact, I could not desert her just now, when there is a—well, + a sort of a cloud over her.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” I thundered. “There is no cloud over her.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, the gold bag and the yellow rose leaves...” + </p> + <p> + “Be silent! The gold bag has been claimed by its owner. But you are + responsible for its presence in this room! You, who brought it from the + midnight train, and left it here! You, who also left the late city + newspaper here! You, who also dropped two yellow petals from the rose in + your buttonhole.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall seemed to turn to stone as he listened to my words. He became + white, then ashen gray. His hands clinched his chair-arms, and his eyes + grew glassy and fixed. + </p> + <p> + I pushed home my advantage. “And therefore, traced by these undeniable + evidences, I know that you are the slayer of Joseph Crawford. You killed + your friend, your benefactor, your employer, in order that he might not + disinherit the girl whose fortune you wish to acquire by marrying her!” + </p> + <p> + Though I had spoken in low tones, my own intense emotion made my words + emphatic, and as I finished I was perhaps the more excited of the two. + </p> + <p> + For Hall's composure had returned; his face resumed its natural color; his + eyes their normal expression—that of cold indifference. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Burroughs,” he said quietly, “you must be insane.” + </p> + <p> + “That is no answer to my accusations,” I stormed. “I tell you of the most + conclusive evidence against yourself, and instead of any attempt to refute + it you mildly remark, `you are insane.' It is you who are insane, Mr. + Hall, if you think you can escape arrest and trial for the murder of + Joseph Crawford.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I think I can,” was his only answer, with that maddening little smile + of his. + </p> + <p> + “Then where were you on Tuesday night?” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me?” + </p> + <p> + “Where were you on Tuesday night?” + </p> + <p> + “That I refuse to tell—as I have refused before, and shall always + refuse.” + </p> + <p> + “Because you were here, and because you have too much wisdom to try to + prove a false alibi.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at me half admiringly. “You are right in that,” he said. “It is + extremely foolish for any one to fake an alibi, and I certainly never + should try to do so.” + </p> + <p> + “That's how I know you were here,” I replied triumphantly. + </p> + <p> + “You do, do you? Well, Mr. Burroughs, I don't pretend to misunderstand you—for + Miss Lloyd has told me all about Mrs. Cunningham and her bag that she left + in the train. But I will say this if you think I came out on that midnight + train, go and ask the conductor. He knows me, and as I often do come out + on that train, he may remember that I was not on it that night. And while + you're about it, and since you consider that late newspaper a clue, also + ask him who was on the train that might have come here afterward.” + </p> + <p> + If this was bluffing, it was a very clever bluff, and magnificently + carried out. Probably his hope was that the conductor could not say + definitely as to Hall's presence on the late train, and any other names he + might mention would only complicate matters. + </p> + <p> + But before I left I made one more attempt to get at this man's secret. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hall,” I began, “I am not unfriendly. In fact, for Miss Lloyd's sake + as well as your own, I should like to remove every shadow of suspicion + that hovers near either or both of you.” + </p> + <p> + “I know that,” he said quickly. “Don't think I can't see through your + `friendliness' to Miss Lloyd! But be careful there, Mr. Burroughs. A man + does not allow too many `friendly' glances toward the girl he is engaged + to.” + </p> + <p> + So he had discovered my secret! Well, perhaps it was a good thing. Now I + could fight for Florence more openly if necessary. + </p> + <p> + “You are right, Mr. Hall,” I went on. “I hold Miss Lloyd in very high + esteem, and I assure you, as man to man, that so long as you and she are + betrothed, neither of you will have cause to look on me as other than a + detective earnest in his work in your behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Hall, a little taken aback by my frankness. + </p> + <p> + I went away soon after that, and without quizzing him any further, for, + though I still suspected him, I realized that he would never say anything + to incriminate himself. + </p> + <p> + The theory that the criminal was some one who came in on that midnight + train was plausible indeed; but what a scope it offered! + </p> + <p> + Why, a total stranger to Sedgwick might have come and gone, entirely + unobserved, in the crowd. + </p> + <p> + It was with little hope, therefore, that I arranged for an interview with + the conductor of the train. + </p> + <p> + He lived in Hunterton, a few stations from West Sedgwick, and, after + ascertaining by telephone that he could see me the next day, I went to his + house. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no,” he replied, after thinking over my query a bit; “I don't think + Mr. Hall came out from New York that night. I'm 'most sure he didn't, + because he usually gives me his newspaper as he steps off the train, and I + didn't get any `extra' that night.” + </p> + <p> + Of course this wasn't positive proof that Hall wasn't there, so I asked + him to tell me all the West Sedgwick people that he did remember as being + on his train that night. + </p> + <p> + He mentioned a dozen or more, but they were nearly all names unknown to + me. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember the Cunninghams being on the train?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “Those Marathon Park people? Oh, yes. They were a gay party,—coming + back from a theatre supper, I suppose. And that reminds me: Philip + Crawford sat right behind the Cunninghams. I forgot him before. Well, I + guess that's all the West Sedgwick people I can remember.” + </p> + <p> + I went away not much the wiser, but with a growing thought that buzzed in + my brain. + </p> + <p> + It was absurd, of course. But he had said Philip Crawford had sat right + behind Mrs. Cunningham. How, then, could he help seeing the gold bag she + left behind, when she got out at the station just before West Sedgwick? + Indeed, who else could have seen it but the man in the seat directly + behind? Even if some one else had picked it up and carried it from the + car, Mr. Crawford must have seen it. + </p> + <p> + Moreover, why hadn't he said he was on that train? Why conceal such a + simple matter? Again, who had profited by the whole affair? And why had + Gregory Hall said: “Ask the conductor who did get off that train?” + </p> + <p> + The rose petals were already explained by Florence. If, then, Philip + Crawford had, much later, come to his brother's with the gold bag and the + late newspaper, and had gone away and left them there, and had never told + of all this, was there not a new direction in which to look? + </p> + <p> + But Philip Crawford! The dead man's own brother! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0020" id="link2H_4_0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN + </h2> + <p> + The enormity of suspecting Philip Crawford was so great, to my mind, that + I went at once to the district attorney's office for consultation with + him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, and then, when I waited for + comment, said quietly: + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought all along that Philip Crawford + was concealing something, but I didn't think, and don't think now, that he + has any guilty secret of his own. I rather fancied he might know something + that, if told, would be detrimental to Miss Lloyd's cause.” + </p> + <p> + “It may be so,” I returned, “but I can't see how that would make him + conceal the fact of his having been on that late train Tuesday night. Why, + I discussed with him the possibility of Hall's coming out on it, and it + would have been only natural to say he was on it, and didn't see Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Unless he did see him,” remarked the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; there's that possibility. He may be shielding Hall for Miss Lloyd's + sake—and—” + </p> + <p> + “Let's go to see him,” suggested Mr. Goodrich. “I believe in the immediate + following up of any idea we may have.” + </p> + <p> + It was about five in the afternoon, an hour when we were likely to find + Mr. Crawford at home, so we started off at once, and on reaching his house + we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in the library, but that he + would see us. So to the library we went, and found Mr. Crawford and his + lawyer hard at work on the papers of the Joseph Crawford estate. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I detected a look of + apprehension on Philip Crawford's face, as we entered, but he greeted us + in his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be seated. + </p> + <p> + “To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford,” said the district attorney, + “Mr. Burroughs and I are still searching for new light on the tragedy of + your brother's death. And now Mr. Burroughs wants to put a few questions + to you, which may help him in his quest.” + </p> + <p> + Philip Crawford looked straight at me with his piercing eyes, and it + seemed to me that he straightened himself, as for an expected blow. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mr. Burroughs,” he said courteously. “What is it you want to ask?” + </p> + <p> + So plain and straightforward was his manner, that I decided to be equally + direct. + </p> + <p> + “Did you come out in that midnight train from New York last Tuesday + night?” I began. + </p> + <p> + “I did,” he replied, in even tones. + </p> + <p> + “While on the train did you sit behind a lady who left a gold bag in the + seat when she got out?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you pick up that bag and take it away with you?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag that was found in your + brother's office, I think you owe a more detailed explanation.” + </p> + <p> + To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, who heard these + questions and answers, were astounded, is putting it too mildly. They were + almost paralyzed with surprise and dismay. + </p> + <p> + To hear these condemning assertions straight from the lips of the man they + incriminated was startling indeed. + </p> + <p> + “You are right,” said Philip Crawford. “I do owe an explanation, and I + shall give it here and now.” + </p> + <p> + Although what he was going to say was doubtless a confession, Mr. + Crawford's face showed an unmistakable expression of relief. He seemed + like a man who had borne a terrible secret around with him for the past + week, and was now glad that he was about to impart it to some one else. + </p> + <p> + He spoke very gravely, but with no faltering or hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “This is a solemn confession,” he said, turning to his lawyer, “and is + made to the district attorney, with yourself and Mr. Burroughs as + witnesses.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Randolph bowed his head, in acknowledgment of this formal statement. + </p> + <p> + “I am a criminal in the eyes of the law,” said Mr. Crawford, in an + impersonal tone, which I knew he adopted to hide any emotion he might + feel. “I have committed a dastardly crime. But I am not the murderer of my + brother Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + We all felt our hearts lightened of a great load, for it was impossible to + disbelieve that calm statement and the clear gaze of those truthful, + unafraid eyes. + </p> + <p> + “The story I have to tell will sound as if I might have been my brother's + slayer, and this is why I assert the contrary at the outset.” + </p> + <p> + Pausing here, Mr. Crawford unlocked the drawer of a desk and took out a + small pistol, which he laid on the table. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “is my revolver, and it is the weapon with which my + brother was killed.” + </p> + <p> + I felt a choking sensation. Philip Crawford's manner was so far removed + from a sensational—or melodramatic effect, that it was doubly + impressive. I believed his statement that he did not kill his brother, but + what could these further revelations mean? Hall? Florence? Young Philip? + Whom would Philip Crawford thus shield for a whole week, and then, when + forced to do so, expose? + </p> + <p> + “You are making strange declarations, Mr. Crawford,” said Lawyer Randolph, + who was already white-faced and trembling. + </p> + <p> + “I know it,” went on Philip Crawford, “and I trust you three men will hear + my story through, and then take such measures as you see fit. + </p> + <p> + “This pistol, as I said, is my property. Perhaps about a month ago, I took + it over to my brother Joseph. He has always been careless of danger, and + as he was in the habit of sitting in his office until very late, with the + long windows open on a dark veranda, I often told him he ought to keep a + weapon in his desk, by way of general protection. Then, after there had + been a number of burglaries in West Sedgwick, I took this pistol to him, + and begged him as a favor to me to let it stay in his desk drawer as a + precautionary measure. He laughed at my solicitude, but put it away in a + drawer, the upper right-hand one, among his business papers. So much for + the pistol. + </p> + <p> + “Last Tuesday night I came out from New York on that midnight train that + reaches West Sedgwick station at one o'clock. In the train I did not + notice especially who sat near me, but when I reached our station and + started to leave the car, I noticed a gold bag in the seat ahead. I picked + it up, and, with a half-formed intention of handing it to the conductor, I + left the train. But as I stepped off I did not see the conductor, and, + though I looked about for him, he did not appear, and the train moved on. + I looked in the station, but the ticket agent was not visible, and as the + hour was so late I slipped the bag into my pocket, intending to hand it + over to the railroad authorities next morning. In fact, I thought little + about it, for I was very much perturbed over some financial + considerations. I had been reading my newspaper all the way out, from the + city. It was an `extra,' with the account of the steamship accident.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Crawford looked at me, as much as to say, “There's your precious + newspaper clue,” but his manner was indicative only of sadness and grief; + he had no cringing air as of a murderer. + </p> + <p> + “However, I merely skimmed the news about the steamer, so interested was I + in the stock market reports. I needn't now tell the details, but I knew + that Joseph had a `corner' in X.Y. stock. I was myself a heavy investor in + it, and I began to realize that I must see Joseph at once, and learn his + intended actions for the next day. If he threw his stock on the market, + there would be a drop of perhaps ten points and I should be a large loser, + if, indeed, I were not entirely wiped out. So I went from the train + straight to my brother's home. When I reached the gate, I saw there was a + low light in his office, so I went round that way, instead of to the front + door. As I neared the veranda, and went up the steps, I drew from my + overcoat pocket the newspaper, and, feeling the gold bag there also, I + drew that out, thinking to show it to Joseph. As I look back now, I think + it occurred to me that the bag might be Florence's; I had seen her carry + one like it. But, as you can readily understand, I gave no coherent + thought to the bag, as my mind was full of the business matter. The French + window was open, and I stepped inside.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Crawford paused here, but he gave way to no visible emotion. He was + like a man with an inexorable duty to perform, and no wish to stop until + it was finished. + </p> + <p> + But truth was stamped unmistakably in every word and every look. + </p> + <p> + “Only the desk light was turned on, but that gave light enough for me to + see my brother sitting dead in his chair. I satisfied myself that he was + really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I looked about the room. Though + I felt benumbed and half unconscious, physically, my thoughts worked + rapidly. On the desk before him I saw his will.” + </p> + <p> + An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph was the only sound that + greeted this astonishing statement. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” and Mr. Crawford took a document from the same drawer whence he had + taken the pistol; “there is Joseph Crawford's will, leaving all his + property to Florence Lloyd.” + </p> + <p> + Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his client passed to him, and, + after a glance at it, laid it on the table in front of him. + </p> + <p> + “That was my crime,” said Philip Crawford solemnly, “and I thank God that + I can confess it and make restitution. I must have been suddenly possessed + of a devil of greed, for the moment I saw that will, I knew that if I took + it away the property would be mine, and I would then run no danger of + being ruined by my stock speculations. I had a dim feeling that I should + eventually give all, or a large part, of the fortune to Florence, but at + the moment I was obsessed by evil, and I—I stole my brother's will.” + </p> + <p> + It was an honest confession of an awful crime. But under the spell of that + strong, low voice, and the upright bearing of that impressive figure, we + could not, at the moment, condemn; we could only listen and wait. + </p> + <p> + “Then,” the speaker proceeded, “I was seized with the terrific, + unreasoning fear that I dare say always besets a malefactor. I had but one + thought, to get away, and leave the murder to be discovered by some one + else. In a sort of subconscious effort at caution, I took my pistol, lest + it prove incriminating evidence against me, but in my mad frenzy of fear, + I gave no thought to the gold bag or the newspaper. I came home, secreted + the will and the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubts as to the + existence of a hell. A thousand times I have been on the point of making + this confession, and even had it not been brought about as it has, I must + have given way soon. No mortal could stand out long under the pressure of + remorse and regret that has been on me this past week. Now, gentlemen, I + have told you all. The action you may take in this matter must be of your + own choosing. But, except for the stigma of past sin, I stand again before + the world, with no unconfessed crime upon my conscience. I stole the will; + I have restored it. But my hands are clean of the blood of my brother, and + I am now free to add my efforts to yours to find the criminal and avenge + the crime.” + </p> + <p> + He had not raised his voice above those low, even tones in which he had + started his recital; he had made no bid for leniency of judgment; but, to + a man, his three hearers rose and held out friendly hands to him as he + finished his story. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” he said simply, as he accepted this mute token of our belief + in his word. “I am gratified at your kindly attitude, but I realize, none + the less, what this will all mean for me. Not only myself but my innocent + family must share my disgrace. However, that is part of the wrongdoer's + punishment—that results fall not only on his own head, but on the + heads and hearts of his loved ones.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Goodrich,” said Mr. Randolph, “I don't know how you look upon this + matter from your official viewpoint, but unless you deem it necessary, I + should think that this confidence of Mr. Crawford's need never be given to + the public. May we not simply state that the missing will has been found, + without any further disclosures?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not asking for any such consideration,” said Philip Crawford. “If + you decide upon such a course, it will be entirely of your own volition.” + </p> + <p> + The district attorney hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Speaking personally,” he said, at last, “I may say that I place full + credence in Mr. Crawford's story. I am entirely convinced of the absolute + truth of all his statements. But, speaking officially, I may say that in a + court of justice witnesses would be required, who could corroborate his + words.” + </p> + <p> + “But such witnesses are manifestly impossible to procure,” said Mr. + Randolph. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly they are,” I agreed, “and I should like to make this + suggestion: Believing, as we do, in Mr. Crawford's story, it becomes + important testimony in the case. Now, if it were made public, it would + lose its importance, for it would set ignorant tongues wagging, and give + rise to absurd and untrue theories, and result in blocking our best-meant + efforts. So I propose that we keep the matter to ourselves for a time—say + a week or a fortnight—keeping Mr. Crawford under surveillance, if + need be. Then we can work on the case, with the benefit of the suggestions + offered by Mr. Crawford's revelations; and I, for one, think such benefit + of immense importance.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do,” said Mr. Goodrich, whose troubled face had cleared at my + suggestion. “You are quite right, Mr. Burroughs. And the `surveillance' + will be a mere empty formality. For a man who has confessed as Mr. + Crawford has done, is not going to run away from the consequences of his + confession.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not,” said Mr. Crawford. “And I am grateful for this respite from + unpleasant publicity. I will take my punishment when it comes, but I feel + with Mr. Burroughs that more progress can be made if what I have told you + is not at once generally known.” + </p> + <p> + “Where now does suspicion point?” + </p> + <p> + It was Mr. Randolph who spoke. His legal mind had already gone ahead of + the present occasion, and was applying the new facts to the old theories. + </p> + <p> + “To Gregory Hall,” said the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “Wait,” said I. “If Mr. Crawford left the bag and the newspaper in the + office, we have no evidence whatever that Mr. Hall came out on that late + train.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor did he need to,” said Mr. Goodrich, who was thinking rapidly. “He + might have come on an earlier train, or, for that matter, not by train at + all. He may have come out from town in a motor car.” + </p> + <p> + This was possible; but it did not seem to me probable. A motor car was a + conspicuous way for a man to come out from New York and return, if he + wished to keep his visit secret. Still, he could have left the car at some + distance from the house, and walked the rest of the way. + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Hall know that a revolver was kept in Mr. Crawford's desk + drawer?” I asked. + </p> + <p> + “He did,” replied Philip Crawford. “He was present when I took my pistol + over to Joseph.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said Mr. Goodrich, “the case looks to me very serious against Mr. + Hall. We have proved his motive, his opportunity, and his method, or, + rather, means, of committing the crime. Add to this his unwillingness to + tell where he was on Tuesday night, and I see sufficient justification for + issuing a warrant for his arrest.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” said Philip Crawford, “whether such immediate measures are + advisable. I don't want to influence you, Mr. Goodrich, but suppose we see + Mr. Hall, and question him a little. Then, if it seems to you best, arrest + him.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a good suggestion, Mr. Crawford,” said the district attorney. “We + can have a sort of court of inquiry by ourselves, and perhaps Mr. Hall + will, by his own words, justify or relieve our suspicions.” + </p> + <p> + I went away from Mr. Crawford's house, and went straight to Florence + Lloyd's. I did this almost involuntarily. Perhaps if I had stopped to + think, I might have realized that it did not devolve upon me to tell her + of Philip Crawford's confession. But I wanted to tell her myself, because + I hoped that from her manner of hearing the story I could learn something. + I still believed that in trying to shield Hall, she had not yet been + entirely frank with me, and at any rate, I wanted to be the one to tell + her of the important recent discovery. + </p> + <p> + When I arrived, I found Mr. Porter in the library talking with Florence. + At first I hesitated about telling my story before him, and then I + remembered that he was one of the best of Florence's friends and advisers, + and moreover a man of sound judgment and great perspicacity. Needless to + say, they were both amazed and almost stunned by the recital, and it was + some time before they could take in the situation in all its bearings. We + had a long, grave conversation, for the three of us were not influenced so + much by the sensationalness of this new development, as by the question of + whither it led. Of course the secret was as safe with these two, as with + those of us who had heard it directly from Philip Crawford's lips. + </p> + <p> + “I understand Philip Crawford's action,” said Mr. Porter, very seriously. + “In the first place he was not quite himself, owing to the sudden shock of + seeing his brother dead before his eyes. Also the sight of his own pistol, + with which the deed had evidently been committed, unnerved him. It was an + almost unconscious nervous action which made him take the pistol, and it + was a sort of subconscious mental working that resulted in his abstracting + the will. Had he been in full possession of his brain faculty, he could + not have done either. He did wrong, of course, but he has made full + restitution, and his wrong-doing should not only be forgiven but + forgotten.” + </p> + <p> + I looked at Mr. Porter in unfeigned admiration. Truly he had expressed + noble sentiments, and his must be a broadly noble nature that could show + such a spirit toward his fellow man. + </p> + <p> + Florence, too, gave him an appreciative glance, but her mind seemed to be + working on the possibilities of the new evidence. + </p> + <p> + “Then it would seem,” she said slowly, “that as I, myself, was in Uncle's + office at about eleven o'clock, and as Uncle Philip was there a little + after one o'clock, whoever killed Uncle Joseph came and went away between + those hours.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, and I knew that her thoughts had flown to Gregory Hall. + “But I think there are no trains in and out again of West Sedgwick between + those hours.” + </p> + <p> + “He need not have come in a train,” said Florence slowly, as if simply + voicing her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Don't attempt to solve the mystery, Florence,” said Mr. Porter in his + decided way. “Leave that for those who make it their business. Mr. + Burroughs, I am sure, will do all he can, and it is not for you to trouble + your already sad heart with these anxieties. Give it up, my girl, for it + means only useless exertion on your part.” + </p> + <p> + “And on my part too, I fear, Mr. Porter,” I said. “Without wishing to + shirk my duty, I can't help feeling I'm up against a problem that to me is + insoluble. It is my desire, since the case is baffling, to call in talent + of a higher order. Fleming Stone, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porter gave me a sudden glance, and it was a glance I could not + understand. For an instant it seemed to me that he showed fear, and this + thought was instantly followed by the impression that he feared for + Florence. And then I chid myself for my foolish heart that made every + thought that entered my brain lead to Florence Lloyd. With my mind in this + commotion I scarcely heard Mr. Porter's words. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he was saying, “we need no other or cleverer detective than you, + Mr. Burroughs. If, as Florence says, the murderer was clever enough to + come between those two hours, and go away again, leaving no sign, he is + probably clever enough so to conceal his coming and going that he may not + be traced.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Porter,” I observed, “they say murder will out.” + </p> + <p> + Again that strange look came into his eyes. Surely it was an expression of + fear. But he only said, “Then you're the man to bring that result about, + Mr. Burroughs. I have great confidence in your powers as a detective.” + </p> + <p> + He took his leave, and I was not sorry, for I wanted an opportunity to see + Florence alone. + </p> + <p> + “I am so sorry,” she said, and for the first time I saw tears in her dear, + beautiful eyes, “to hear that about Uncle Philip. But Mr. Porter was + right, he was not himself, or he never could have done it.” + </p> + <p> + “It was an awful thing for him to find his brother as he did, and go away + and leave him so.” + </p> + <p> + “Awful, indeed! But the Crawfords have always been strange in their ways. + I have never seen one of them show emotion or sentiment upon any + occasion.” + </p> + <p> + “Now you are again an heiress,” I said, suddenly realizing the fact. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, but her tone indicated that her fortune brought in its + train many perplexing troubles and many grave questions. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” I began, “if I am unwarrantably intrusive, but I must say + this. Affairs are so changed now, that new dangers and troubles may arise + for you. If I can help you in any way, will you let me do so? Will you + confide in me and trust me, and will you remember that in so doing you are + not putting yourself under the slightest obligation?” + </p> + <p> + She looked at me very earnestly for a moment, and then without replying + directly to my questions, she said in a low tone, “You are the very best + friend I have ever had.” + </p> + <p> + “Florence!” I cried; but even as she had spoken, she had gone softly out + of the room, and with a quiet joy in my heart, I went away. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon I was summoned to Mr. Philip Crawford's house to be present + at the informal court of inquiry which was to interrogate Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + Hall was summoned by telephone, and not long after he arrived. He was cool + and collected, as usual, and I wondered if even his arrest would disturb + his calm. + </p> + <p> + “We are pursuing the investigation of Mr. Joseph Crawford's death, Mr. + Hall,” the district attorney began, “and we wish, in the course of our + inquiries, to ask some questions of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, sir,” said Gregory Hall, with an air of polite indifference. + </p> + <p> + “And I may as well tell you at the outset,” went on Mr. Goodrich, a little + irritated at the young man's attitude, “that you, Mr. Hall, are under + suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” said Hall interrogatively. “But I was not here that night.” + </p> + <p> + “That's just the point, sir. You say you were not here, but you refuse to + say where you were. Now, wherever you may have been that night, a frank + admission of it will do you less harm than this incriminating concealment + of the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” said Hall easily, “I suppose I may as well tell you. But + first, since you practically accuse me, may I ask if any new developments + have been brought to light?” + </p> + <p> + “One has,” said Mr. Goodrich. “The missing will has been found.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” cried Hall, unable to conceal his satisfaction at this + information. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at the plainly apparent + mercenary spirit of the man; “yes, the will of Mr. Joseph Crawford, which + bequeaths the bulk of his estate to Miss Lloyd, is safe in Mr. Randolph's + possession. But that fact in no way affects your connection with the case, + or our desire to learn where you were on Tuesday night.” + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Goodrich; I didn't hear all that you said.” + </p> + <p> + Bluffing again, thought I; and, truly, it seemed to me rather a clever way + to gain time for consideration, and yet let his answers appear + spontaneous. + </p> + <p> + The district attorney repeated his question, and now Gregory Hall answered + deliberately, + </p> + <p> + “I still refuse to tell you where I was. It in no way affects the case; it + is a private matter of my own. I was in New York City from the time I left + West Sedgwick at six o'clock on Monday, until I returned the next morning. + Further than that I will give no account of my doings.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we must assume you were engaged in some occupation of which you are + ashamed to tell.” + </p> + <p> + Hall shrugged his shoulders. “You may assume what you choose,” he said. “I + was not here, I had no hand in Mr. Crawford's death, and knew nothing of + it until my return next day.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew Mr. Crawford kept a revolver in his desk. You must know it is + not there now.” + </p> + <p> + Hall looked troubled. + </p> + <p> + “I know nothing about that revolver,” he said. “I saw it the day Mr. + Philip Crawford brought it there, but I have never seen it since.” + </p> + <p> + This sounded honest enough, but if he were the criminal, he would, of + course, make these same avowals. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Mr. Hall,” said the district attorney, with an air of finality, “we + suspect you. We hold that you had motive, opportunity, and means for this + crime. Therefore, unless you can prove an alibi for Tuesday night, and + bring witnesses to prove where you, were, we must arrest you, on + suspicion, for the murder of Joseph Crawford.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall deliberated silently for a few moments, then he said: + </p> + <p> + “I am innocent. But I persist in my refusal to allow intrusion on my + private and personal affairs. Arrest me if you will, but you will yet + learn your mistake.” + </p> + <p> + I can never explain it, even to myself, but something in the man's tone + and manner convinced me, even against my own will, that he spoke the + truth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0021" id="link2H_4_0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XX. FLEMING STONE + </h2> + <p> + The news of Gregory Hall's arrest flew through the town like wildfire. + </p> + <p> + That evening I went to call on Florence Lloyd, though I had little hope + that she would see me. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise, however, she welcomed me almost eagerly, and, though I + knew she wanted to see me only for what legal help I might give her, I was + glad even of this. + </p> + <p> + And yet her manner was far from impersonal. Indeed, she showed a slight + embarrassment in my presence, which, if I had dared, I should have been + glad to think meant a growing interest in our friendship. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard all?” I asked, knowing from her manner that she had. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she replied; “Mr. Hall was here for dinner, and then—then he + went away to—” + </p> + <p> + “To prison,” I finished quietly. “Florence, I cannot think he is the + murderer of your uncle.” + </p> + <p> + If she noticed this, my first use of her Christian name, she offered no + remonstrance, and I went on, + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, they have proved that he had motive, means, opportunity, and + all that, but it is only indefinite evidence. If he would but tell where + he was on Tuesday night, he could so easily free himself. Why will he not + tell?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” she said, looking thoughtful. “But I cannot think he was + here, either. When he said good-by to me to-night, he did not seem at all + apprehensive. He only said he was arrested wrongfully, and that he would + soon be set free again. You know his way of taking everything casually.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do. And now that you are your uncle's heiress, I suppose he no + longer wishes to break the engagement between you and him.” + </p> + <p> + I said this bitterly, for I loathed the nature that could thus turn about + in accordance with the wheel of fortune. + </p> + <p> + To my surprise, she too spoke bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said; “he insists now that we are engaged, and that he never + really wanted to break it. He has shown me positively that it is my money + that attracts him, and if it were not that I don't want to seem to desert + him now, when he is in trouble—” + </p> + <p> + She paused, and my heart beat rapidly. Could it be that at last she saw + Gregory Hall as he really was, and that his mercenary spirit had killed + her love for him? At least, she had intimated this, and, forcing myself to + be content with that for the present, I said: + </p> + <p> + “Would you, then, if you could, get him out of this trouble?” + </p> + <p> + “Gladly. I do not think he killed Uncle Joseph, but I'm sure I do not know + who did. Do you?” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't the least idea,” I answered honestly, for there, in Florence + Lloyd's presence, gazing into the depths of her clear eyes, my last, faint + suspicion of her wrong-doing faded away. “And it is this total lack of + suspicion that makes the case so simple, and therefore so difficult. A + more complicated case offers some points on which to build a theory. I do + not blame Mr. Goodrich for suspecting Mr. Hall, for there seems to be no + one else to suspect.” + </p> + <p> + Just then Mr. Lemuel Porter dropped in for an evening call. Of course, we + talked over the events of the day, and Mr. Porter was almost vehement in + his denunciation of the sudden move of the district attorney. + </p> + <p> + “It's absurd,” he said, “utterly absurd. Gregory Hall never did the thing. + I've known Hall for years, and he isn't that sort of a man. I believe + Philip Crawford's story, of course, but the murderer, who came into the + office after Florence's visit to her uncle, and before Philip arrived, was + some stranger from out of town—some man whom none of us know; who + had some grievance against Joseph, and who deliberately came and went + during that midnight hour.” + </p> + <p> + I agreed with Mr. Porter. I had thought all along it was some one unknown + to the Sedgwick people, but some one well known to Joseph Crawford. For, + had it been an ordinary burglar, the victim would at least have raised a + protecting hand. + </p> + <p> + “Of course Hall will be set free at once,” continued Mr. Porter, “but to + arrest him was a foolish thing to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, he ought to prove his alibi,” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; make him prove it. Give him the third degree, if + necessary, and find out where he was on Tuesday night.” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if they could get it out of him,” I observed, “if he continues + determined not to tell.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he deserves his fate,” said Mr. Porter, a little petulantly. “He can + free himself by a word. If he refuses to do so it's his own business.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'd like to help him,” said Florence, almost timidly. “Is there no + way I can do so, Mr. Burroughs?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed there is,” I said. “You are a rich woman now; use some of your + wealth to employ the services of Fleming Stone, and I can assure you the + truth will be discovered.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I will,” said Florence. “Please send for him at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” said Mr. Porter. “It isn't necessary at all. Mr. Burroughs + here, and young Parmalee, are all the detectives we need. Get Hall to free + himself, as he can easily do, and then set to work in earnest to run down + the real villain.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Mr. Porter,” said Florence, with firmness; “Gregory will not tell his + secret, whatever it is. I know his stubborn nature. He'll stay in prison + until he's freed, as he is sure he will be, but he won't tell what he has + determined not to divulge. No, I am glad I can do something definite at + last toward avenging Uncle Joseph's death. Please send for Mr. Stone, Mr. + Burroughs, and I will gladly pay his fees and expenses.” Mr. Porter + expostulated further, but to no avail. Florence insisted on sending for + the great detective. + </p> + <p> + So I sent for him. + </p> + <p> + He came two days later, and in the interval nothing further had been + learned from Gregory Hall. The man was an enigma to me. He was calm and + impassive as ever. Courteous, though never cordial, and apparently without + the least apprehension of ever being convicted for the crime which had + caused his arrest. + </p> + <p> + Indeed, he acted just as an innocent man would act; innocent of the + murder, that is, but resolved to conceal his whereabouts of Tuesday night, + whatever that resolve might imply. + </p> + <p> + To me, it did not imply crime. Something he wished to conceal, certainly; + but I could not think a criminal would act so. A criminal is usually ready + with an alibi, whether it can be proved or not. + </p> + <p> + When Fleming Stone arrived I met him at the station and took him at once + to the inn, where I had engaged rooms for him. + </p> + <p> + We first had a long conversation alone, in which I told him, everything I + knew concerning the murder. + </p> + <p> + “When did it happen?” he asked, for, though he had read some of the + newspaper accounts, the date had escaped him. + </p> + <p> + I told him, and added, “Why, I was called here just after I left you at + the Metropolis Hotel that morning. Don't you remember, you deduced a lot + of information from a pair of shoes which were waiting to be cleaned?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I remember,” said Stone, smiling a little at the recollection. + </p> + <p> + “And I tried to make similar deductions from the gold bag and the + newspaper, but I couldn't do it. I bungled matters every time. My + deductions are mostly from the witnesses' looks or tones when giving + evidence.” + </p> + <p> + “On the stand?” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily on the stand. I've learned much from talking to the + principals informally.” + </p> + <p> + “And where do your suspicions point?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere. I've suspected Florence Lloyd and Gregory Hall, in turn, and in + collusion; but now I suspect neither of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “His manner is too frank and unconcerned.” + </p> + <p> + “A good bluff for a criminal to use.” + </p> + <p> + “Then he won't tell where he was that night.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is the murderer, he can't tell. A false alibi is so easily riddled. + It's rather clever to keep doggedly silent; but what does he say is his + reason?” + </p> + <p> + “He won't give any reason. He has determined to keep up that calm, + indifferent pose, and though it is aggravating, I must admit it serves his + purpose well.” + </p> + <p> + “How did they find him the morning after the murder?” + </p> + <p> + “Let me see; I believe the coroner said he telephoned first to Hall's + club. But the steward said Hall didn't stay there, as there was no vacant + room, and that he had stayed all night at a hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “What hotel?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. The coroner asked the steward, but he didn't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't he find out from Hall, afterward?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, Stone; perhaps the coroner asked him, but if he did, I + doubt if Hall told. It didn't seem to me important.” + </p> + <p> + “Burroughs, my son, you should have learned every detail of Hall's doings + that night.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he were not in West Sedgwick, what difference could it possibly + make where he was?” + </p> + <p> + “One never knows what difference anything will make until the difference + is made. That's oracular, but it means more than it sounds. However, go + on.” + </p> + <p> + I went on, and I even told him what Florence had told me concerning the + possibility of Hall's interest in another woman. + </p> + <p> + “At last we are getting to it,” said Stone; “why in the name of all good + detectives, didn't you hunt up that other woman?” + </p> + <p> + “But she is perhaps only a figment of Miss Lloyd's brain.” + </p> + <p> + “Figments of the brains of engaged young ladies are apt to have a solid + foundation of flesh and blood. I think much could be learned concerning + Mr. Hall's straying fancy. But tell me again about his attitude toward + Miss Lloyd, in the successive developments of the will question.” + </p> + <p> + Fleming Stone was deeply interested as I rehearsed how, when Florence was + supposed to be penniless, he wished to break the engagement. When Philip + Crawford offered to provide for her, Mr. Hall was uncertain; but when the + will was found, and Florence was known to inherit all her uncle's + property, then Gregory Hall not only held her to the engagement, but said + he had never wished to break it. + </p> + <p> + “H'm,” said Stone. “Pretty clear that the young man is a fortune-hunter.” + </p> + <p> + “He is,” I agreed. “I felt sure of that from the first.” + </p> + <p> + “And he is now under arrest, calmly waiting for some one to prove his + innocence, so he can marry the heiress.” + </p> + <p> + “That's about the size of it,” I said. “But I don't think Florence is + quite as much in love with him as she was. She seems to have realized his + mercenary spirit.” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or manner disclosed to this astute + man the state of my own affections, for he gave me a quizzical glance, and + said, “O-ho! sits the wind in that quarter?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” I said, determined to be frank with him. “It does. I want you, to + free Gregory Hall, if he's innocent. Then if, for any reason, Miss Lloyd + sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most certainly try to win her affections. + As I came to this determination when she was supposed to be penniless, I + can scarcely be accused of fortune-hunting myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, you can't, old chap. You're not that sort. Well, let's go to see + your district attorney and his precious prisoner, and see what's to be + done.” + </p> + <p> + We went to the district attorney's office, and, later, accompanied by him + and by Mr. Randolph, we visited Gregory Hall. + </p> + <p> + As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same unperturbed manner he always + showed, and when Fleming Stone was introduced, Hall greeted him coldly, + with absolutely no show of interest in the man or his work. + </p> + <p> + Fleming Stone's own kindly face took on a slight expression of hauteur, as + he noticed his reception, but he said, pleasantly enough, + </p> + <p> + “I am here in an effort to aid in establishing your innocence, Mr. Hall.” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon?” said Hall listlessly. + </p> + <p> + I wondered whether this asking to have a remark repeated was merely a + foolish habit of Hall's, or whether, as I had heretofore guessed, it was a + ruse to gain time. + </p> + <p> + Fleming Stone looked at him a little more sharply as he repeated his + remark in clear, even tones. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you,” said Hall, pleasantly enough. “I shall be glad to be free + from this unjust suspicion.” + </p> + <p> + “And as a bit of friendly advice,” went on Stone, “I strongly urge that + you, reveal to us, confidentially, where you were on Tuesday night.” + </p> + <p> + Hall looked the speaker straight in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “That,” he said, “I must still refuse to do.” + </p> + <p> + Fleming Stone rose and walked toward the window. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” he said, “the proof of your innocence may depend upon this + point.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall turned his head, and followed Stone with his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What did you say, Mr. Stone?” he asked quietly. + </p> + <p> + The detective returned to his seat. + </p> + <p> + “I said,” he replied, “that the proof of your innocence might depend on + your telling this secret of yours. But I begin to think now you will be + freed from suspicion whether you tell it or not.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of looking glad at this assurance, Gregory Hall gave a start, and + an expression of fear came into his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” he said, + </p> + <p> + “Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. Hall?” went on Fleming Stone in + a suave voice. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; several. Why?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not ask to read them. Merely show me the lot.” + </p> + <p> + With what seemed to be an unwilling but enforced movement, Mr. Hall drew + four or five letters from his breast pocket and handed them to Fleming + Stone. + </p> + <p> + “They've all been looked over, Mr. Stone,” said the district attorney; + “and they have no bearing on the matter of the crime.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't want to read them,” said the detective. + </p> + <p> + He ran over the lot carelessly, not taking the sheets from the envelopes, + and returned them to their owner. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall looked at him as if fascinated. What revelation was this man + about to make? + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hall,” Fleming Stone began, “I've no intention of forcing your secret + from you. But I shall ask you some questions, and you may do as you like + about answering them. First, you refuse to tell where you were during the + night last Tuesday. I take it, you mean you refuse to tell how or where + you spent the evening. Now, will you tell us where you lodged that night?” + </p> + <p> + “I fail to see any reason for telling you,” answered Hall, after a + moment's thought. “I have said I was in New York City, that is enough.” + </p> + <p> + “The reason you may as well tell us,” went on Mr. Stone, “is because it is + a very simple matter for us to find out. You doubtless were at some hotel, + and you went there because you could not get a room at your club. In fact, + this was stated when the coroner telephoned for you, the morning after the + murder. I mean, it was stated that the club bed-rooms were all occupied. I + assume, therefore, that you lodged at some hotel, and, as a canvass of the + city hotels would be a simple matter, you may as well save us that + trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” said Gregory Hall sullenly; “then I did spend the night + at a hotel. It was the Metropolis Hotel, and you will find my name duly on + the register.” + </p> + <p> + “I have no doubt of it,” said Stone pleasantly. “Now that you have told us + this, have you any objection to telling us at what time you returned to + the hotel, after your evening's occupation, whatever it may have been?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” said Hall abstractedly. He turned his head as he spoke, and Fleming + Stone threw me a quizzical smile which I didn't in the least understand. + </p> + <p> + “You may as well tell us,” said Stone, after he had repeated his question, + “for if you withhold it, the night clerk can give us this information.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said Hall, who now looked distinctly sulky, “I don't remember + exactly, but I think I turned in somewhere between twelve and one + o'clock.” + </p> + <p> + “And as it was a late hour, you slept rather late next morning,” suggested + Stone. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't know. I was at Mr. Crawford's New York office by half-past + ten.” + </p> + <p> + “A strange coincidence, Burroughs,” said Fleming Stone, turning to me. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Beg pardon?” said Hall, turning his head also. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Hall,” said Stone, suddenly facing him again, “are you deaf? Why do + you ask to have remarks repeated?” + </p> + <p> + Hall looked slightly apologetic. “I am a little deaf,” he said; “but only + in one ear. And only at times—or, rather, it's worse at times. If I + have a cold, for instance.” + </p> + <p> + “Or in damp weather?” said Stone. “Mr. Hall, I have questioned you enough. + I will now tell these gentlemen, since you refuse to do so, where you were + on the night of Mr. Crawford's murder. You were not in West Sedgwick, or + near it. You are absolutely innocent of the crime or any part in it.” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall straightened up perceptibly, like a man exonerated from all + blame. But he quailed again, as Fleming Stone, looking straight at him, + continued: “You left West Sedgwick at six that evening, as you have said. + You registered at the Metropolis Hotel, after learning that you could not + get a room at your club. And then—you went over to Brooklyn to meet, + or to call on, a young woman living in that borough. You took her back to + New York to the theatre or some such entertainment, and afterward escorted + her back to her home. The young woman wore a street costume, by which I + mean a cloth gown without a train. You did not have a cab, but, after + leaving the car, you walked for a rather long distance in Brooklyn. It was + raining, and you were both under one umbrella. Am I correct, so far?” + </p> + <p> + At last Gregory Hall's calm was disturbed. He looked at Fleming Stone as + at a supernatural being. And small wonder. For the truth of Stone's + statements was evident from Hall's amazement at them. + </p> + <p> + “You—you saw us!” he gasped. + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't see you; it is merely a matter of observation, deduction, + and memory. You recollect the muddy shoes?” he added, turning to me. + </p> + <p> + Did I recollect! Well, rather! And it certainly was a coincidence that we + had chanced to examine those shoes that morning at the hotel. + </p> + <p> + As for Mr. Randolph and the district attorney, they were quite as much + surprised as Hall. + </p> + <p> + “Can you prove this astonishing story, Mr. Stone?” asked Mr. Goodrich, + with an incredulous look. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, in lots of ways,” returned Stone. “For one thing, Mr. Hall has + in his pocket now a letter from the young lady. The whole matter is of no + great importance except as it proves Mr. Hall was not in West Sedgwick + that night, and so is not the murderer.” + </p> + <p> + “But why conceal so simple a matter? Why refuse to tell of the episode?” + asked Mr. Randolph. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” and now Fleming Stone looked at Hall with accusation in his + glance—“because Mr. Hall is very anxious that his fiancee shall not + know of his attentions to the young lady in Brooklyn.” + </p> + <p> + “O-ho!” said Mr. Goodrich, with sudden enlightenment. “I see it all now. + Is it the truth, Mr. Hall? Did you go to Brooklyn and back that night, as + Mr. Stone has described?” + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall fidgeted in an embarrassed way. But, unable to escape the + piercing gaze of Stone's eyes, he admitted grudgingly that the detective + had told the truth, adding, “But it's wizardry, that's what it is! How + could he know?” + </p> + <p> + “I had reason for suspicion,” said Stone; “and when I found you were deaf + in your right ear, and that you had in your pocket a letter addressed in a + feminine hand, and postmarked `Brooklyn,' I was sure.” + </p> + <p> + “It's all true,” said Hall slowly. “You have the facts all right. But, + unless you have had me shadowed, will you tell me how you knew it all?” + </p> + <p> + And then Fleming Stone told of his observations and deductions when we + noticed the muddied shoes at the Metropolis Hotel that morning. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he said, as he concluded, “when I hastily adjudged the young lady + to be deaf in the left ear, I see now I was mistaken. As soon as I + realized Mr. Hall himself is deaf in the right ear, especially so in damp + or wet weather, I saw that it fitted the case as well as if the lady had + been deaf in her left ear. Then a note in his pocket from a lady in + Brooklyn made me quite sure I was right.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Mr. Stone,” said Lawyer Randolph, “it is very astonishing that you + should make those deductions from those shoes, and then come out here and + meet the owner of the shoes.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems more remarkable than it really is, Mr. Randolph,” was the + response; “for I am continually observing whatever comes to my notice. + Hundreds of my deductions are never verified, or even thought of again; so + it is not so strange that now and then one should prove of use in my + work.” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the district attorney, “it seems wonderful to me. But now + that Mr. Hall has proved his alibi, or, rather, Mr. Stone has proved it + for him, we must begin anew our search for the real criminal.” + </p> + <p> + “One moment,” said Gregory Hall. “As you know, gentlemen, I endeavored to + keep this little matter of my going to Brooklyn a secret. As it has no + possible bearing on the case of Mr. Crawford, may I ask of you to respect + my desire that you say nothing about it?” + </p> + <p> + “For my part,” said the district attorney, “I am quite willing to grant + Mr. Hall's request. I have put him to unnecessary trouble and + embarrassment by having him arrested, and I shall be glad to do him this + favor that he asks, by way of amends.” + </p> + <p> + But Mr. Randolph seemed reluctant to make the required promise, and + Fleming Stone looked at Hall, and said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Then I spoke out, and, perhaps with scant courtesy, I said: + </p> + <p> + “I, for one, refuse to keep this revelation a secret. It was discovered by + the detective engaged by Miss Lloyd. Therefore, I think Miss Lloyd is + entitled to the knowledge we have thus gained.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Randolph looked at me with approval. He was a good friend of Florence + Lloyd, and he was of no mind to hide from her something which it might be + better for her to know. + </p> + <p> + Gregory Hall set his lips together in a way which argued no pleasant + feelings toward me, but he said nothing then. He was forthwith released + from custody, and the rest of us separated; having arranged to meet that + evening at Miss Lloyd's home to discuss matters. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0022" id="link2H_4_0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + XXI. THE DISCLOSURE + </h2> + <p> + Except the half-hour required for a hasty dinner, Fleming Stone devoted + the intervening time to looking over the reports of the coroner's inquest, + and in asking me questions about all the people who were connected with + the affair. + </p> + <p> + “Burroughs,” he said at last, “every one who is interested in Joseph + Crawford's death has suspected Gregory Hall, except one person. Not + everybody said they suspected him, but they did, all the same. Even Miss + Lloyd wasn't sure that Hall wasn't the criminal. Now, there's just one + person who declares that Hall did not do it, and that he is not + implicated. Why should this person feel so sure of Hall's innocence? And, + furthermore, my boy, here are a few more important questions. In which + drawer of the desk was the revolver kept?” + </p> + <p> + “The upper right-hand drawer,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, what else was in that drawer?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, important, valuable memoranda of Mr. Crawford's stocks and bonds.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean stock certificates and actual bonds?” + </p> + <p> + “No; merely lists and certain data referring to them. The certificates + themselves were in the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “And the will—where had that been kept?” + </p> + <p> + “In a drawer on the other side of the desk. I know all these things, + because with the lawyer and Mr. Philip Crawford, I have been through all + the papers of the estate.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Burroughs, let us build up the scene. Mr. Joseph Crawford, + after returning from his lawyer's that night, goes to his office. + Naturally, he takes out his will, that he thinks of changing, and—we'll + say—it is lying on his desk when Mr. Lemuel Porter calls. He talks + of other matters, and the will still lies there unheeded. It is there when + Miss Lloyd comes down later. She has said so. It remains there until much + later—when Philip Crawford comes, and, after discovering that his + brother is dead, sees the will still on the desk and takes it away with + him, and also sees the pistol on the desk, and takes that, too. Now, + granting that the murderer came between the time Miss Lloyd left the + office and the time Philip Crawford came there, then it was while the + murderer was present that the drawer which held the pistol was opened, the + pistol taken out, and the murder committed, Since Mr. Joseph Crawford + showed no sign of fear of violence, the murderer must have been, not a + burglar or an unwelcome intruder, but a friend, or an acquaintance, at + least. His visit must have been the reason for opening that drawer, and + that not to get the pistol, but to look at or discuss the papers contained + in that drawer. The pistol, thus disclosed, was temptingly near the hand + of the visitor, and, for some reason connected with the papers in that + drawer, the pistol was used by the visitor—suddenly, + unpremeditatedly, but with deadly intent at the moment.” + </p> + <p> + “But who—” I began. + </p> + <p> + “Hush,” he said, “I see it all now—or almost all. Let us go to + Philip Crawford's at once—before it is time to go to Miss Lloyd's.” + </p> + <p> + We did so, and Fleming Stone, in a short business talk with Mr. Crawford, + learned all that he wanted to know. Then we three went over to Florence + Lloyd's home. + </p> + <p> + Awaiting us were several people. The district attorney, of course, and + Lawyer Randolph. Also Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who had been asked to + be present. Gregory Hall was there, too, and from his crestfallen + expression, I couldn't help thinking that he had had an unsatisfactory + interview with Florence. + </p> + <p> + As we all sat round the library, Fleming Stone was the principal speaker. + </p> + <p> + He said: “I have come here at Miss Lloyd's request, to discover, if + possible, the murderer of her uncle, Mr. Joseph Crawford. I have learned + the identity of the assassin, and, if you all wish me to, I will now + divulge it.” + </p> + <p> + “We do wish you to, Mr. Stone,” said Mr. Goodrich, and his voice trembled + a little, for he knew not where the blow might fall. But after Fleming + Stone's wonderful detective work in the case of Gregory Hall, the district + attorney felt full confidence in his powers. + </p> + <p> + Sitting quietly by the library table, with the eyes of all the company + upon him, Fleming Stone said, in effect, to them just what he had said to + me. He told of the revolver in the drawer with the financial papers. He + told how the midnight visitor must have been some friend or neighbor, + whose coming would in no way startle or alarm Mr. Crawford, and whose + interest in the question of stocks was desperate. + </p> + <p> + And then Fleming Stone turned suddenly to Lemuel Porter, and said: “Shall + I go on, Mr. Porter, or will you confess here and now?” + </p> + <p> + It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen. Hitherto unsuspected, the guilt of + Lemuel Porter was now apparent beyond all doubt. White-faced and shaking, + his burning eyes glared at Fleming Stone. + </p> + <p> + “What are you?” he whispered, in hoarse, hissing tones. “I feared you, and + I was right to fear you. I have heard of you before. I tried to prevent + your coming here, but I could not. And I knew, when you came, that I was + doomed—doomed! + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he went on, looking around at the startled faces. “Yes, I killed + Joseph Crawford. If I had not, he would have ruined me financially. + Randolph knows that—and Philip Crawford, too. I had no thought of + murder in my heart. I came here late that night to renew the request I had + made in my earlier visit that evening—that Joseph Crawford would + unload his X.Y. stock gradually, and in that way save me. I had + overtraded; I had pyramided my paper profits until my affairs were in such + a state that a sudden drop of ten points would wipe me out entirely. But + Joseph Crawford was adamant to my entreaties. He said he would see to it + that at the opening of the market the next morning X.Y. stock should be + hammered down out of sight. Details are unnecessary. You lawyers and + financial men understand. It was in his power to ruin or to save me and he + chose to ruin me. I know, why, but that concerns no one here. Then, as by + chance, he moved a paper in the drawer, and I saw the pistol. In a moment + of blind rage I grasped it and shot him. Death was instantaneous. Like one + in a dream, I laid down the pistol, and came away. I was saved, but at + what a cost! No one, I think, saw me come or go. I was afterward puzzled + to know what became of the pistol, and of the will which lay on the desk + when I was there. These matters have since been explained. Philip Crawford + is as much a criminal as I. I shot a man, but he robbed the dead. He has + confessed and made restitution, so he merits no punishment. In the nature + of things, I cannot do that, but I can at least cheat the gallows.” + </p> + <p> + With these words, Mr. Porter put something into his mouth and swallowed + it. + </p> + <p> + Several people started toward him in dismay, but he waved them back, + saying: + </p> + <p> + “Too late. Good-by, all. If possible, do not let my wife know the truth. + Can't you tell her—I died of heart failure—or—something + like that?” + </p> + <p> + The poison he had taken was of quick effect. Though a doctor was + telephoned for at once, Mr. Porter was dead before he came. + </p> + <p> + Everything was now made clear, and Fleming Stone's work in West Sedgwick + was done. + </p> + <p> + I was chagrined, for I felt that all he had discovered, I ought to have + found out for myself. + </p> + <p> + But as I glanced at Florence, and saw her lovely eyes fixed on me, I knew + that one reason I had failed in my work was because of her distracting + influence on it. + </p> + <p> + “Take me away from here,” she said, and I gently led her from the library. + </p> + <p> + We went into the small drawing-room, and, unable to restrain my eagerness, + I said, + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, dear, have you broken with Hall?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she said, looking up shyly into my face. “I learned from his own + lips the story of the Brooklyn girl. Then I knew that he really loves her, + but wanted to marry me for my fortune. This knowledge was enough for me. I + realize now that I never loved Gregory, and I have told him so.” + </p> + <p> + “And you do love somebody else?” I whispered ecstatically. “Oh, Florence! + I know this is not the time or the place, but just tell me, dear, if you + ever love any one, it will be—” + </p> + <p> + “You” she murmured softly, and I was content. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Gold Bag, by Carolyn Wells + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE GOLD BAG *** + +***** This file should be named 2883-h.htm or 2883-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/8/8/2883/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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THE INQUEST + +V. FLORENCE LLOYD + +VI. THE GOLD BAG + +VII. YELLOW ROSES + +VIII. FURTHER INQUIRY + +IX. THE TWELFTH ROSE + +X. THE WILL + +XI. LOUIS'S STORY + +XII. LOUIS'S CONFESSION + +XIII. MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE + +XIV. MR. PORTER'S VIEWS. + +XV. THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED + +XVI. A CALL ON MRS. PURVIS + +XVII. THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG + +XVIII. IN MR. GOODRICH'S OFFICE + +XIX. THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN + +XX. FLEMING STONE + +XXI. THE DISCLOSURE + + + + + +THE GOLD BAG + + + +I + +THE CRIME IN WEST SEDGWICK + + +Though a young detective, I am not entirely an inexperienced one, +and I have several fairly successful investigations to my credit +on the records of the Central Office. + +The Chief said to me one day: "Burroughs, if there's a mystery to +be unravelled; I'd rather put it in your hands than to trust it +to any other man on the force. + +"Because," he went on, "you go about it scientifically, and you +never jump at conclusions, or accept them, until they're +indubitably warranted." + +I declared myself duly grateful for the Chief's kind words, but I +was secretly a bit chagrined. A detective's ambition is to be, +considered capable of jumping at conclusions, only the +conclusions must always prove to be correct ones. + +But though I am an earnest and painstaking worker, though my +habits are methodical and systematic, and though I am +indefatigably patient and persevering, I can never make those +brilliant deductions from seemingly unimportant clues that +Fleming Stone can. He holds that it is nothing but observation +and logical inference, but to me it is little short of +clairvoyance. + +The smallest detail in the way of evidence immediately connotes +in his mind some important fact that is indisputable, but which +would never have occurred to me. I suppose this is largely a +natural bent of his brain, for I have not yet been able to +achieve it, either by study or experience. + +Of course I can deduce some facts, and my colleagues often say I +am rather clever at it, but they don't know Fleming Stone as well +as I do, and don't realize that by comparison with his talent +mine is insignificant. + +And so, it is both by way of entertainment, and in hope of +learning from him, that I am with him whenever possible, and +often ask him to "deduce" for me, even at risk of boring him, as, +unless he is in the right mood, my requests sometimes do. + +I met him accidentally one morning when we both chanced to go +into a basement of the Metropolis Hotel in New York to have our +shoes shined. + +It was about half-past nine, and as I like to get to my office by +ten o'clock, I looked forward to a pleasant half-hour's chat with +him. While waiting our turn to get a chair, we stood talking, +and, seeing a pair of shoes standing on a table, evidently there +to be cleaned, I said banteringly: + +"Now, I suppose, Stone, from looking at those shoes, you can +deduce all there is to know about the owner of them." + +I remember that Sherlock Holmes wrote once, "From a drop of +water, a logician could infer the possibility of an Atlantic or a +Niagara without having seen or heard of one or the other," but +when I heard Fleming Stone's reply to my half-laughing challenge, +I felt that he had outdone the mythical logician. With a mild +twinkle in his eye, but with a perfectly grave face, he said +slowly + +"Those shoes belong to a young man, five feet eight inches high. +He does not live in New York, but is here to visit his +sweetheart. She lives in Brooklyn, is five feet nine inches +tall, and is deaf in her left ear. They went to the theatre last +night, and neither was in evening dress." + +"Oh, pshaw!" said I, "as you are acquainted with this man, and +know how he spent last evening, your relation of the story +doesn't interest me." + +"I don't know him," Stone returned; "I've no idea what his name +is, I've never seen him, and except what I can read from these +shoes I know nothing about him." + +I stared at him incredulously, as I always did when confronted by +his astonishing "deductions," and simply said + +"Tell this little Missourian all about it." + +"It did sound well, reeled off like that, didn't it?" he +observed, chuckling more at my air of eager curiosity than at his +own achievement. "But it's absurdly easy, after all. He is a +young man because his shoes are in the very latest, extreme, not +exclusive style. He is five feet eight, because the size of his +foot goes with that height of man, which, by the way, is the +height of nine out of ten men, any way. He doesn't live in New +York or he wouldn't be stopping at a hotel. Besides, he would be +down-town at this hour, attending to business." + +"Unless he has freak business hours, as you and I do," I put in. + +"Yes, that might be. But I still hold that he doesn't live in +New York, or he couldn't be staying at this Broadway hotel +overnight, and sending his shoes down to be shined at half-past +nine in the morning. His sweetheart is five feet nine, for that +is the height of a tall girl. I know she is tall, for she wears +a long skirt. Short girls wear short skirts, which make them +look shorter still, and tall girls wear very long skirts, which +make them look taller." + +"Why do they do that?" I inquired, greatly interested. + +"I don't know. You'll have to ask that of some one wiser than I. +But I know it's a fact. A girl wouldn't be considered really +tall if less than five feet nine. So I know that's her height. +She is his sweetheart, for no man would go from New York to +Brooklyn and bring a lady over here to the theatre, and then take +her home, and return to New York in the early hours of the +morning, if he were not in love with her. I know she lives in +Brooklyn, for the paper says there was a heavy shower there last +night, while I know no rain fell in New York. I know that they +were out in that rain, for her long skirt became muddy, and in +turn muddied the whole upper of his left shoe. The fact that +only the left shoe is so soiled proves that he walked only at her +right side, showing that she must be deaf in her left ear, or he +would have walked part of the time on that side. I know that +they went to the theatre in New York, because he is still +sleeping at this hour, and has sent his boots down to be cleaned, +instead of coming down with them on his feet to be shined here. +If he had been merely calling on the girl in Brooklyn, he would +have been home early, for they do not sit up late in that +borough. I know they went to the theatre, instead of to the +opera or a ball, for they did not go in a cab, otherwise her +skirt would not have become muddied. This, too, shows that she +wore a cloth skirt, and as his shoes are not patent leathers, it +is clear that neither was in evening dress." + +I didn't try to get a verification of Fleming Stone's assertions; +I didn't want any. Scores of times I had known him to make +similar deductions and in cases where we afterward learned the +facts, he was invariably correct. So, though we didn't follow up +this matter, I was sure he was right, and, even if he hadn't +been, it would not have weighed heavily against his large +proportion of proved successes. + +We separated then, as we took chairs at some distance from each +other, and, with a sigh of regret that I could never hope to go +far along the line in which Stone showed such proficiency, I +began to read my morning paper. + +Fleming Stone left the place before I did, nodding a good-by as +he passed me, and a moment after, my own foot-gear being in +proper condition, I, too, went out, and went straight to my +office. + +As I walked the short distance, my mind dwelt on Stone's +quick-witted work. Again I wished that I possessed the kind of +intelligence that makes that sort of thing so easy. Although +unusual, it is, after all, a trait of many minds, though often, +perhaps, unrecognized and undeveloped by its owner. I dare say +it lies dormant in men who have never had occasion to realize its +value. Indeed, it is of no continuous value to anyone but a +detective, and nine detectives out of ten do not possess it. + +So I walked along, envying my friend Stone his gift, and reached +my office just at ten o'clock as was my almost invariable habit. + +"Hurry up, Mr. Burroughs!" cried my office-boy, as I opened the +door. "You're wanted on the telephone." + +Though a respectful and well-mannered boy, some excitement had +made him a trifle unceremonious, and I looked at him curiously as +I took up the receiver. + +But with the first words I heard, the office-boy was forgotten, +and my own nerves received a shock as I listened to the message. +It was from the Detective Bureau with which I was connected, and +the superintendent himself was directing me to go at once to West +Sedgwick, where a terrible crime had just been discovered. + +"Killed!" I exclaimed; "Joseph Crawford?" + +"Yes; murdered in his home in West Sedgwick. The coroner +telephoned to send a detective at once and we want you to go." + +"Of course I'll go. Do you know any more details?" + +"No; only that he was shot during the night and the body found +this morning. Mr. Crawford was a big man, you know. Go right +off, Mr. Burroughs; we want you to lose no time." + +Yes; I knew Joseph Crawford by name, though not personally, and I +knew he was a big man in the business world, and his sudden death +would mean excitement in Wall Street matters. Of his home, or +home-life, I knew nothing. + +"I'll go right off," I assured the Chief, and turned away from +the telephone to find Donovan, the office-boy, already looking up +trains in a timetable. + +"Good boy, Don," said I approvingly; "what's the next train to +West Sedgwick, and how long does it take to get there?" + +"You kin s'lect the ten-twenty, Mr. Burruz, if you whirl over in +a taxi an' shoot the tunnel," said Donovan, who was rather a +graphic conversationalist. "That'll spill you out at West +Sedgwick 'bout quarter of 'leven. Was he moidered, Mr. Burruz?" + +"So they tell me, Don. His death will mean something in +financial circles." + +"Yessir. He was a big plute. Here's your time-table, Mr. +Burruz. When'll you be back?" + +"Don't know, Don. You look after things." + +"Sure! everything'll be took care of. Lemme know your orders +when you have 'em." + +By means of the taxi Don had called and the tunnel route as he +had suggested, I caught the train, satisfied that I had obeyed +the Chief's orders to lose no time. + +Lose no time indeed! I was more anxious than any one else could +possibly be to reach the scene of the crime before significant +clues were obliterated or destroyed by bungling investigators. I +had had experience with the police of suburban towns, and I well +knew their two principal types. Either they were of a pompous, +dignified demeanor, which covered a bewildered ignorance, or else +they were overzealous and worked with a misdirected energy that +made serious trouble for an intelligent detective. Of course, of +the two kinds I preferred the former, but the danger was that I +should encounter both. + +On my way I diverted my mind, and so partly forgot my impatience, +by endeavoring to "deduce" the station or occupation of my fellow +passengers. + +Opposite me in the tunnel train sat a mild-faced gentleman, and +from the general, appearance of his head and hat I concluded he +was a clergyman. I studied him unostentatiously and tried to +find some indication of the denomination he might belong to, or +the character of his congregation, but as I watched, I saw him +draw a sporting paper from his pocket, and turning his hand, a +hitherto unseen diamond flashed brilliantly from his little +finger. I hastily, revised my judgment, and turning slightly +observed the man who sat next me. Determined to draw only +logical inferences, I scrutinized his coat, that garment being +usually highly suggestive to our best regulated detectives. I +noticed that while the left sleeve was unworn and in good +condition, the right sleeve was frayed at the inside edge, and +excessively smooth and shiny on the inner forearm. Also the top +button of the coat was very much worn, and the next one slightly. + +"A-ha!" said I to myself, "I've nailed you, my friend. You're a +desk-clerk, and you write all day long, standing at a desk. The +worn top button rubs against your desk as you stand, which it +would not do were you seated." + +With a pardonable curiosity to learn if I were right, I opened +conversation with the young man. He was not unwilling to +respond, and after a few questions I learned, to my chagrin, that +he was a photographer. Alas for my deductions! But surely, +Fleming Stone himself would not have guessed a photographer from +a worn and shiny coat-sleeve. At the risk of being rudely +personal, I made some reference to fashions in coats. The young +man smiled and remarked incidentally, that owing to certain +circumstances he was at the moment wearing his brother's coat. + +"And is your brother a desk clerk?" inquired I almost +involuntarily: + +He gave me a surprised glance, but answered courteously enough, +"Yes;" and the conversation flagged. + +Exultantly I thought that my deduction, though rather an obvious +one, was right; but after another furtive glance at the young +man, I realized that Stone would have known he was wearing +another's coat, for it was the most glaring misfit in every way. + +Once more I tried, and directed my attention to a middle-aged, +angular-looking woman, whose strong, sharp-featured face +betokened a prim spinster, probably at the head of a girls' +school, or engaged in some clerical work. However, as I passed +her on my way to leave the train I noticed a wedding-ring on her +hand, and heard her say to her companion, "No; I think a woman's +sphere is in her own kitchen and nursery. How could I think +otherwise, with my six children to bring up?" After these +lamentable failures, I determined not to trust much to deduction +in the case I was about to investigate, but to learn actual facts +from actual evidence. + +I reached West Sedgwick, as Donovan had said, at quarter before +eleven. Though I had never been there before, the place looked +quite as I had imagined it. The railway station was one of those +modern attractive structures of rough gray stone, with +picturesque projecting roof and broad, clean platforms. A flight +of stone steps led down to the roadway, and the landscape in +every direction showed the well-kept roads, the well-grown trees +and the carefully-tended estates of a town of suburban homes. +The citizens were doubtless mainly men whose business was in New +York, but who preferred not to live there. + +The superintendent must have apprised the coroner by telephone of +my immediate arrival, for a village cart from the Crawford +establishment was awaiting me, and a smart groom approached and +asked if I were Mr. Herbert Burroughs. + +A little disappointed at having no more desirable companion on my +way to the house, I climbed up beside the driver, and the groom +solemnly took his place behind. Not curiosity, but a justifiable +desire to learn the main facts of the case as soon as possible, +led me to question the man beside me. + +I glanced at him first and saw only the usual blank countenance +of the well-trained coachman. + +His face was intelligent, and his eyes alert, but his impassive +expression showed his habit of controlling any indication of +interest in people or things. + +I felt there would be difficulty in ingratiating myself at all, +but I felt sure that subterfuge would not help me, so I spoke +directly. + +"You are the coachman of the late Mr. Crawford?" + +"Yes, sir." + +I hadn't really expected more than this in words, but his tone +was so decidedly uninviting of further conversation that I almost +concluded to say nothing more. But the drive promised to be a +fairly long one, so I made another effort. + +"As the detective on this case, I wish to hear the story of it as +soon as I can. Perhaps you can give me a brief outline of what +happened." + +It was perhaps my straightforward manner, and my quite apparent +assumption of his intelligence, that made the man relax a little +and reply in a more conversational tone. + +"We're forbidden to chatter, sir," he said, "but, bein' as you're +the detective, I s'pose there's no harm. But it's little we +know, after all. The master was well and sound last evenin', and +this mornin' he was found dead in his own office-chair." + +"You mean a private office in his home?" + +"Yes, sir. Mr. Crawford went to his office in New York 'most +every day, but days when he didn't go, and evenin's and Sundays, +he was much in his office at home, sir." + +"Who discovered the tragedy?" + +"I don't rightly know, sir, if it was Louis, his valet, or +Lambert, the butler, but it was one or t'other, sir." + +"Or both together?" I suggested. + +"Yes, sir; or both together." + +"Is any one suspected of the crime?" + +The man hesitated a moment, and looked as if uncertain what to +reply, then, as he set his jaw squarely, he said: + +"Not as I knows on, sir." + +"Tell me something of the town," I observed next, feeling that it +was better to ask no more vital questions of a servant. + +We were driving along streets of great beauty. Large and +handsome dwellings, each set in the midst of extensive and +finely-kept grounds, met the view on either aide. Elaborate +entrances opened the way to wide sweeps of driveway circling +green velvety lawns adorned with occasional shrubs or +flower-beds. The avenues were wide, and bordered with trees +carefully set out and properly trimmed. The streets were in fine +condition, and everything betokened a community, not only +wealthy, but intelligent and public-spirited. Surely West +Sedgwick was a delightful location for the homes of wealthy New +York business men. + +"Well, sir," said the coachman, with unconcealed pride, "Mr. +Crawford was the head of everything in the place. His is the +handsomest house and the grandest grounds. Everybody respected +him and looked up to him. He hadn't an enemy in the world." + +This was an opening for further conjecture as to the murderer, +and I said: "But the man who killed him must have been his +enemy." + +"Yes, sir; but I mean no enemy that anybody knew of. It must +have been some burglar or intruder." + +Though I wanted to learn such facts as the coachman might know, +his opinions did not interest me, and I again turned my attention +to the beautiful residences we were passing. + +"That place over there," the man went on, pointing with his whip, +"is Mr. Philip Crawford's house--the brother of my master, sir. +Them red towers, sticking up through the trees, is the house of +Mr. Lemuel Porter, a great friend of both the Crawford brothers. +Next, on the left, is the home of Horace Hamilton, the great +electrician. Oh, Sedgwick is full of well-known men, sir, but +Joseph Crawford was king of this town. Nobody'll deny that." + +I knew of Mr. Crawford's high standing in the city, and now, +learning of his local preeminence, I began to think I was about +to engage in what would probably be a very important case. + + + + +II + +THE CRAWFORD HOUSE + + +"Here we are, sir," said the driver, as we turned in at a fine +stone gateway. "This is the Joseph Crawford place." + +He spoke with a sort of reverent pride, and I afterward learned +that his devotion to his late master was truly exceptional. + +This probably prejudiced him in favor of the Crawford place and +all its appurtenances, for, to me, the estate was not so +magnificent as some of the others we had passed. And yet, though +not so large, I soon realized that every detail of art or +architecture was perfect in its way, and that it was really a gem +of a country home to which I had been brought. + +We drove along a curving road to the house, passing well-arranged +flower beds, and many valuable trees and shrubs. Reaching the +porte cochere the driver stopped, and the groom sprang down to +hand me out. + +As might be expected, many people were about. Men stood talking +in groups on the veranda, while messengers were seen hastily +coming or going through the open front doors. + +A waiting servant in the hall at once ushered me into a large +room. + +The effect of the interior of the house impressed me pleasantly. +As I passed through the wide hall and into the drawing-room, I +was conscious of an atmosphere of wealth tempered by good taste +and judgment. + +The drawing-room was elaborate, though not ostentatious, and +seemed well adapted as a social setting for Joseph Crawford and +his family. It should have been inhabited by men and women in +gala dress and with smiling society manners. + +It was therefore a jarring note when I perceived its only +occupant to be a commonplace looking man, in an ill-cut and +ill-fitting business suit. He came forward to greet me, and his +manner was a trifle pompous as he announced, "My name is Monroe, +and I am the coroner. You, I think, are Mr. Burroughs, from New +York." + +It was probably not intentional, and may have been my +imagination, but his tone seemed to me amusingly patronizing. + +"Yes, I am Mr. Burroughs," I said, and I looked at Mr. Monroe +with what I hoped was an expression that would assure him that +our stations were at least equal. + +I fear I impressed him but slightly, for he went on to tell me +that he knew of my reputation as a clever detective, and had +especially desired my attendance on this case. This sentiment +was well enough, but he still kept up his air and tone of +patronage, which however amused more than irritated me. + +I knew the man by hearsay, though we had never met before; and I +knew that he was of a nature to be pleased with his own +prominence as coroner, especially in the case of so important a +man as Joseph Crawford. + +So I made allowance for this harmless conceit on his part, and +was even willing to cater to it a little by way of pleasing him. +He seemed to me a man, honest, but slow of thought; rather +practical and serious, and though overvaluing his own importance, +yet not opinionated or stubborn. + +"Mr. Burroughs," he said, "I'm very glad you could get here so +promptly; for the case seems to me a mysterious one, and the +value of immediate investigation cannot be overestimated." + +"I quite agree with you," I returned. "And now will you tell me +the principal facts, as you know them, or will you depute some +one else to do so?" + +"I am even now getting a jury together," he said, "and so you +will be able to hear all that the witnesses may say in their +presence. In the meantime, if you wish to visit the scene of the +crime, Mr. Parmalee will take you there." + +At the sound of his name, Mr. Parmalee stepped forward and was +introduced to me. He proved to be a local detective, a young man +who always attended Coroner Monroe on occasions like the present; +but who, owing to the rarity of such occasions in West Sedgwick, +had had little experience in criminal investigation. + +He was a young man of the type often seen among Americans. He +was very fair, with a pink complexion, thin, yellow hair and weak +eyes. His manner was nervously alert, and though he often began +to speak with an air of positiveness, he frequently seemed to +weaken, and wound up his sentences in a floundering uncertainty. + +He seemed to be in no way jealous of my presence there, and +indeed spoke to me with an air of comradeship. + +Doubtless I was unreasonable, but I secretly resented this. +However I did not show my resentment and endeavored to treat Mr. +Parmalee as a friend and co-worker. + +The coroner had left us together, and we stood in the +drawing-room, talking, or rather he talked and I listened. Upon +acquaintance he seemed to grow more attractive. He was impulsive +and jumped at conclusions, but he seemed to have ideas, though +they were rarely definitely expressed. + +He told me as much as he knew of the details of the affair and +proposed that we go directly to the scene of the crime. + +As this was what I was impatient to do, I consented. + +"You see, it's this way," he said, in a confidential whisper, as +we traversed the long hall: "there is no doubt in any one's mind +as to who committed the murder, but no name has been mentioned +yet, and nobody wants to be the first to say that name. It'll +come out at the inquest, of course, and then--" + +"But," I interrupted, "if the identity of the murderer is so +certain, why did they send for me in such haste?" + +"Oh, that was the coroner's doing. He's a bit inclined to the +spectacular, is Monroe, and he wants to make the whole affair as +important as possible." + +"But surely, Mr. Parmalee, if you are certain of the criminal it +is very absurd for me to take up the case at all." + +"Oh, well, Mr. Burroughs, as I say, no name has been spoken yet. +And, too, a big case like this ought to have a city detective on +it. Even if you only corroborate what we all feel sure of, it +will prove to the public mind that it must be so." + +"Tell me then, who is your suspect?" + +"Oh, no, since you are here you had better investigate with an +unprejudiced mind. Though you cannot help arriving at the +inevitable conclusion." + +We had now reached a closed door, and, at Mr. Parmalee's tap, +were admitted by the inspector who was in charge of the room. + +It was a beautiful apartment, far too rich and elaborate to be +designated by the name of "office," as it was called by every one +who spoke of it; though of course it was Mr. Crawford's office, +as was shown by the immense table-desk of dark mahogany, and all +the other paraphernalia of a banker's work-room, from ticker to +typewriter. + +But the decorations of walls and ceilings, the stained glass of +the windows, the pictures, rugs, and vases, all betokened +luxurious tastes that are rarely indulged in office furnishings. +The room was flooded with sunlight. Long French windows gave +access to a side veranda, which in turn led down to a beautiful +terrace and formal garden. But all these things were seen only +in a hurried glance, and then my eyes fell on the tragic figure +in the desk chair. + +The body had not been moved, and would not be until after the +jury had seen it, and though a ghastly sight, because of a +bullet-hole in the left temple, otherwise it looked much as Mr. +Crawford must have looked in life. + +A handsome man, of large physique and strong, stern face, he must +have been surprised, and killed instantly; for surely, given the +chance, he would have lacked neither courage nor strength to +grapple with an assailant. + +I felt a deep impulse of sympathy for that splendid specimen of +humanity, taken unawares, without having been given a moment in +which to fight for his life, and yet presumably seeing his +murderer, as he seemed to have been shot directly from the front. + +As I looked at that noble face, serene and dignified in its death +pallor, I felt glad that my profession was such as might lead to +the avenging of such a detestable crime. + +And suddenly I had a revulsion of feeling against such petty +methods as deductions from trifling clues. + +Moreover I remembered my totally mistaken deductions of that very +morning. Let other detectives learn the truth by such claptrap +means if they choose. This case was too large and too serious to +be allowed to depend on surmises so liable to be mistaken. No, I +would search for real evidence, human testimony, reliable +witnesses, and so thorough, systematic, and persevering should my +search be, that I would finally meet with success. + +"Here's the clue," said Parmelee's voice, as he grasped my arm +and turned me in another direction. + +He pointed to a glittering article on the large desk. + +It was a woman's purse, or bag, of the sort known as "gold-mesh." +Perhaps six inches square, it bulged as if overcrowded with some +feminine paraphernalia. + +"It's Miss Lloyd's," went on Parmalee. "She lives here, you know +--Mr. Crawford's niece. She's lived here for years and years." + +"And you suspect her?" I said, horrified. + +"Well, you see, she's engaged to Gregory Hall he's Mr. Crawford's +secretary--and Mr. Crawford didn't approve of the match; and so--" + +He shrugged his shoulders in a careless fashion, as if for a +woman to shoot her uncle were an everyday affair. + +But I was shocked and incredulous, and said so. + +"Where is Miss Lloyd?" I asked. "Does she claim ownership of +this gold bag?" + +"No; of course not," returned Parmalee. "She's no fool, Florence +Lloyd isn't! She's locked in her room and won't come out. Been +there all the morning. Her maid says this isn't Miss Lloyd's +bag, but of course she'd say that." + +"Well, that question ought to be easily settled. What's in the +bag?" + +"Look for yourself. Monroe and I ran through the stuff, but +there's nothing to say for sure whose bag it is." + +I opened the pretty bauble, and let the contents fall out on the +desk. + +A crumpled handkerchief, a pair of white kid gloves, a little +trinket known as a "vanity case," containing a tiny mirror and a +tinier powder puff; a couple of small hair-pins, a newspaper +clipping, and a few silver coins were all that rewarded my +trouble. + +Nothing definite, indeed, and yet I knew if Fleming Stone could +look at the little heap of feminine belongings, he would at once +tell the fair owner's age, height, and weight, if not her name +and address. + +I had only recently assured myself that such deductions were of +little or no use, and yet, I could not help minutely examining +the pretty trifles lying on the desk. I scrutinized the +handkerchief for a monogram or an initial, but it had none. It +was dainty, plain and fine, of sheer linen, with a narrow hem. +To me it indicated an owner of a refined, feminine type, and +absolutely nothing more. I couldn't help thinking that even +Fleming Stone could not infer any personal characteristics of the +lady from that blank square of linen. + +The vanity case I knew to be a fad of fashionable women, and had +that been monogrammed, it might have proved a clue. But, though +pretty, it was evidently not of any great value, and was merely +such a trifle as the average woman would carry about. + +And yet I felt exasperated that with so many articles to study, I +could learn nothing of the individual to whom they belonged. The +gloves were hopeless. Of a good quality and a medium size, they +seemed to tell me nothing. They were but slightly soiled, and +apparently might have been worn once or twice. They had never +been cleaned, as the inside showed no scrawled hieroglyphics. +But all of these conclusions pointed nowhere save to the average +well-groomed American woman. + +The hair-pins and the silver money were equally bare of +suggestion, but I hopefully picked up the bit of newspaper. + +"Surely this newspaper clipping must throw some light," I mused, +but it proved to be only the address of a dyeing and cleaning +establishment in New York City. + +"This is being taken care of?" I said, and the burly inspector, +who up to now had not spoken, said: + +"Yes, sir! Nobody touches a thing in this: room while I'm here. +You, sir, are of course an exception, but no one else is allowed +to meddle with anything." + +This reminded me that as the detective in charge of this case, it +was my privilege--indeed, my duty--to examine the papers and +personal effects that were all about, in an effort to gather +clues for future use. + +I was ignorant of many important details, and turned to Parmelee +for information. + +That young man however, though voluble, was, inclined to talk on +only one subject, the suspected criminal, Miss Florence Lloyd. + +"You see, it must be her bag. Because who else could have left +it here? Mrs. Pierce, the only other lady in the house, doesn't +carry a youngish bag like that. She'd have a black leather bag, +more likely, or a -- or a --" + +"Well, it really doesn't matter what kind of a bag Mrs. Pierce +would carry," said I, a little impatiently; "the thing is to +prove whether this is Miss Lloyd's bag or not. And as it is +certainly not a matter of conjecture, but a matter of fact, I +think we may leave it for the present, and turn our attention to +other matters." + +I could see that Parmalee was disappointed that I had made no +startling deductions from my study of the bag and its contents, +and, partly owing to my own chagrin at this state of affairs, I +pretended to consider the bag of little consequence, and turned +hopefully to an investigation of the room. + +The right-hand upper drawer of the double-pedestalled desk was +open. Seemingly, Mr. Crawford had been engaged with its contents +during the latter moments of his life. + +At a glance, I saw the drawer contained exceedingly valuable and +important papers. + +With an air of authority, intentionally exaggerated for the +purpose of impressing Parmalee, I closed the drawer, and locked +it with the key already in the keyhole. + +This key was one of several on a key-ring, and, taking it from +its place, I dropped the whole bunch in my pocket. This action +at once put me in my rightful place. The two men watching me +unconsciously assumed a more deferential air, and, though they +said nothing, I could see that their respect for my authority had +increased. + +Strangely enough, after this episode, a new confidence in my own +powers took possession of me, and, shaking off the apathy that +had come over me at sight of that dread figure in the chair, I +set methodically to work to examine the room. + +Of course I noted the position of the furniture, the state of the +window-fastenings, and such things in a few moments. The many +filing cabinets and indexed boxes, I glanced at, and locked those +that had keys or fastenings. + +The inspector sat with folded hands watching me with interest but +saying nothing. Parmalee, on the other hand, kept up a running +conversation, sometimes remarking lightly on my actions, and +again returning to the subject of Miss Lloyd. + +"I can see," he said, "that you naturally dislike to suspect a +woman, and a young woman too. But you don't know Miss Lloyd. +She is haughty and wilful. And as I told you, nobody has +mentioned her yet in this connection. But I am speaking to you +alone, and I have no reason to mince matters. And you know +Florence Lloyd is not of the Crawford stock. The Crawfords are a +fine old family, and not one of them could be capable of crime. +But Miss Lloyd is on the other side of the house, a niece of Mrs. +Crawford; and I've heard that the Lloyd stock is not all that +could be desired. There is a great deal in heredity, and she may +not be responsible . . ." + +I paid little attention to Parmalee's talk, which was thrown at +me in jerky, desultory sentences, and interested me not at all. +I went on with my work of investigation, and though I did not get +down on my knees and examine every square inch of the carpet with +a lens, yet I thoroughly examined all of the contents of the +room. I regret to say, however, that I found nothing that seemed +to be a clue to the murderer. + +Stepping out on the veranda, I looked for footprints. The "light +snow" usually so helpful to a detective had not fallen, as it was +April, and rather warm for the season. But I found many heel +marks, apparently of men's boots; yet they were not necessarily +of very recent date, and I don't think much of foot-print clues, +anyhow. + +Then I examined the carpet, or, rather, the several rugs which +ornamented the beautiful polished floor. + +I found nothing but two petals of a pale yellow rose. They were +crumpled, but not dry or withered, and could not have been long +detached from the blossom on which they grew. + +Parmalee chanced to have his back toward me as I spied them, and +I picked them up and put them away in my pocket-book without his +knowledge. If the stolid inspector saw me, he made no sign. +Indeed, I think he would have said nothing if I had carried off +the big desk itself. I looked round the room for a bouquet or +vase of flowers from which the petals might have fallen, but none +was there. + +This far I had progressed when I heard steps in the hall, and a +moment later the coroner ushered the six gentlemen of his jury +into the room. + + + + +III + +THE CORONER'S JURY + + +It was just as the men came in at the door, that I chanced to +notice a newspaper that lay on a small table. I picked it up +with an apparent air of carelessness, and, watching my chance, +unobserved by Parmalee, I put the paper away in a drawer, which I +locked. + +The six men, whom Coroner Monroe named over to me, by way of a +brief introduction, stepped silently as they filed past the body +of their late friend and neighbor. + +For the jurymen had been gathered hastily from among the citizens +of West Sedgwick who chanced to be passing; and as it was after +eleven o'clock, they were, for the most part, men of leisure, and +occupants of the handsome homes in the vicinity. + +Probably none of them had ever before been called to act on a +coroner's jury, and all seemed impressed with the awfulness of +the crime, as well as imbued with a personal sense of sorrow. + +Two of the jurors had been mentioned to me by name, by the +coachman who brought me from the station. Horace Hamilton and +Lemuel Porter were near-by neighbors of the murdered man, and; I +judged from their remarks, were rather better acquainted with him +than were the others. + +Mr. Hamilton was of the short, stout, bald-headed type, sometimes +called aldermanic. It was plainly to be seen that his was a +jocund nature, and the awe which he felt in this dreadful +presence of death, though clearly shown on his rubicund face, was +evidently a rare emotion with him. He glanced round the room as +if expecting to see everything there materially changed, and +though he looked toward the figure of Mr. Crawford now and then, +it was with difficulty, and he averted his eyes as quickly as +possible. He was distinctly nervous, and though he listened to +the remarks of Coroner Monroe and the other jurors, he seemed +impatient to get away. + +Mr. Porter, in appearance, was almost the exact reverse of Mr. +Hamilton. He was a middle-aged man with the iron gray hair and +piercing dark eyes that go to make up what is perhaps the +handsomest type of Americans. He was a tall man, strong, lean +and sinewy, with a bearing of dignity and decision. Both these +men were well-dressed to the point of affluence, and, as near +neighbor and intimate friends of the dead man, they seemed to +prefer to stand together and a little apart from the rest. + +Three more of the jurors seemed to me not especially noticeable +in any way. They looked as one would expect property owners in +West Sedgwick to look. They listened attentively to what Mr. +Monroe said, asked few or no questions, and seemed appalled at +the unusual task they had before them. + +Only one juror impressed me unpleasantly. That was Mr. Orville, +a youngish man, who seemed rather elated at the position in which +he found himself. He fingered nearly everything on the desk; he +peered carefully into the face of the victim of the crime, and he +somewhat ostentatiously made notes in a small Russia leather +memorandum book. + +He spoke often to the coroner, saying things which seemed to me +impertinent, such as, "Have you noticed the blotter, Mr. Coroner? +Very often, you know, much may be learned from the blotter on a +man's desk." + +As the large blotter in question was by no means fresh, indeed +was thickly covered with ink impressions, and as there was +nothing to indicate that Mr. Crawford had been engaged in writing +immediately before his death, Mr. Orville's suggestion was +somewhat irrelevant. And, too, the jurors were not detectives +seeking clues, but were now merely learning the known facts. + +However, Mr. Orville fussed around, even looking into the +wastebasket, and turning up a corner of a large rug as if +ferreting for evidence. + +The others exhibited no such minute curiosity, and, after a few +moments, they followed the coroner out of the room. + +Then the doctor and his assistants came to take the body away, +and I went in search of Coroner Monroe, eager for further +information concerning the case, of which I really, as yet, knew +but little. + +Parmalee went with me and we found Mr. Monroe in the library, +quite ready to talk with us. + +"Mr. Orville seems to possess the detective instinct himself," +observed Mr. Parmalee, with what seemed like a note of jealousy +in his tone. + +"The true detective mind," returned Mr. Monroe, with his slow +pomposity, "is not dependent on instinct or intuition." + +"Oh, I think it is largely dependent on that," I said, "or where +does it differ from the ordinary inquiring mind?" + +"I'm sure you will agree with me, Mr. Burroughs," the coroner +went on, almost as if I had not spoken, "that it depends upon a +nicely adjusted mentality that is quick to see the cause back of +an effect." + +To me this seemed a fair definition of intuition, but there was +something in the unctuous roll of Mr. Monroe's words that made me +positive he was quoting his somewhat erudite speech, and had not +himself a perfectly clear comprehension of its meaning. + +"It's guessing," declared Parmalee, "that's all it is, guessing. +If you guess right, you're a famous detective; if you guess +wrong, you're a dub. That's all there is about it." + +"No, no, Mr. Parmalee,"--and Mr. Monroe slowly shook his finger +at the rash youth--"what you call guessing is really divination. +Yes, my dear sir, it is actual divination." + +"To my mind," I put in, "detective divination is merely minute +observation. But why do we quibble over words and definitions +when there is much work to be done? When is the formal inquest +to be held, Mr. Monroe?" + +"This afternoon at two o'clock," he replied. + +"Then I'll go away now," I said, "for I must find an abiding +place for myself in West Sedgwick. There is an inn, I suppose." + +"They'll probably ask you to stay here," observed Coroner Monroe, +"but I advise you not to do so. I think you'll be freer and less +hampered in your work if you go to the inn." + +"I quite agree with you," I replied. "But I see little chance of +being invited to stay here. Where is the family? Who are in +it?" + +"Not many. There is Miss Florence Lloyd, a niece of Mr. +Crawford. That is, she is the niece of his wife. Mrs. Crawford +has been dead many years, and Miss Lloyd has kept house for her +uncle all that time. Then there is Mrs. Pierce, an elderly lady +and a distant relative of Mr. Crawford's. That is all, except +the secretary, Gregory Hall, who lives here much of the time. +That is, he has a room here, but often he is in New York or +elsewhere on Mr. Crawford's business." + +"Mr. Crawford had an office both here and in New York?" I asked. + +"Yes; and of late years he has stayed at home as much as +possible. He went to New York only about three or four days in +the week, and conducted his business from here the rest of the +time. Young Hall is a clever fellow, and has been Mr. Crawford's +righthand man for years." + +"Where is he now?" + +"We think he's in New York, but haven't yet been able to locate +him at Mr. Crawford's office there, or at his club. He is +engaged to Miss Lloyd, though I understand that the engagement is +contrary to Mr. Crawford's wishes." + +"And where is Miss Lloyd,--and Mrs. Pierce?" + +"They are both in their rooms. Mrs. Pierce is prostrated at the +tragedy, and Miss Lloyd simply refuses to make her appearance." + +"But she'll have to attend the inquest?" + +"Oh, yes, of course. She'll be with us then. I think I won't +say anything about her to you, as I'd rather you'd see her first +with entirely unprejudiced eyes." + +"So you, too, think Miss Lloyd is implicated?" + +"I don't think anything about it, Mr. Burroughs. As coroner it +is not my place to think along such lines." + +"Well, everybody else thinks so," broke in Parmalee. "And why? +Because there's no one else for suspicion to light on. No one +else who by any possibility could have done the deed." + +"Oh, come now, Mr. Parmalee," said I, "there must be others. +They may not yet have come to our notice, but surely you must +admit an intruder could have come into the room by way of those +long, open windows." + +"These speculations are useless, gentlemen," said Mr. Monroe, +with his usual air of settling the matter. "Cease then, I beg, +or at least postpone them. If you are walking down the avenue, +Mr. Parmalee, perhaps you'll be good enough to conduct Mr. +Burroughs to the Sedgwick Arms, where he doubtless can find +comfortable accommodations." + +I thanked Mr. Monroe for the suggestion, but said, +straightforwardly enough, that I was not yet quite ready to leave +the Crawford house, but that I would not detain Mr. Parmalee, for +I could myself find my way to the inn, having noticed it on my +drive from the train. + +So Parmalee went away, and I was about to return to Mr. +Crawford's office where I hoped to pursue a little uninterrupted +investigation. + +But Mr. Monroe detained me a moment, to present me to a tall, +fine-looking man who had just come in. + +He proved to be Philip Crawford, a brother of Joseph, and I at +once observed a strong resemblance between their two faces. + +"I am glad to meet you, Mr. Burroughs," he said. "Mr. Monroe +tells me you are a clever and experienced detective, and I trust +you can help us to avenge this dastardly crime. I am busy with +some important matters just now, but later I shall be glad to +confer with you, and be of any help I can in your investigation." + +I looked at Mr. Philip Crawford curiously. Of course I didn't +expect him to give way to emotional grief, but it jarred on me to +hear him refer to his brother's tragic death in such cold tones, +and with such a businesslike demeanor. + +However, I realized I did not know the man at all, and this +attitude might be due to his effort in concealing his real +feelings. + +He looked very like his brother Joseph, and I gathered from the +appearance of both men, and the manner of Philip, that the +Crawford nature was one of repression and self-control. +Moreover, I knew nothing of the sentiments of the two brothers, +and it might easily be that they were not entirely in sympathy. + +I thanked him for his offer of help, and then as he volunteered +no further observations, I excused myself and proceeded alone to +the library. + +As I entered the great room and closed the door behind me, I was +again impressed by the beauty and luxury of the appointments. +Surely Joseph Crawford must have been a man of fine calibre and +refined tastes to enjoy working in such an atmosphere. But I had +only two short hours before the inquest, and I had many things to +do, so for the moment I set myself assiduously to work examining +the room again. As in my first examination, I did no microscopic +scrutinizing; but I looked over the papers on and in the desk, I +noted conditions in the desk of Mr. Hall, the secretary, and I +paid special attention to the position of the furniture and +windows, my thoughts all directed to an intruder from outside on +Mr. Crawford's midnight solitude. + +I stepped through the long French window on to the veranda, and +after a thorough examination of the veranda, I went on down the +steps to the gravel walk. Against a small rosebush, just off the +walk, I saw a small slip of pink paper. I picked it up, hardly +daring to hope it might be a clue, and I saw it was a trolley +transfer, whose punched holes indicated that it had been issued +the evening before. It might or might not be important as +evidence, but I put it carefully away in my note-book for later +consideration. + +Returning to the library I took the newspaper which I had earlier +discovered from the drawer where I had hidden it, and after one +more swift but careful glance round the room, I went away, +confident that I had not done my work carelessly. + +I left the Crawford house and walked along the beautiful avenue +to the somewhat pretentious inn bearing the name of Sedgwick +Arms. + +Here, as I had been led to believe, I found pleasant, even +luxurious accommodations. The landlord of the inn was smiling +and pleasant, although landlord seems an old-fashioned term to +apply to the very modern and up-to-date man who received me. + +His name was Carstairs, and he had the genial, perceptive manner +of a man about town. + +"Dastardly shame!" he exclaimed, after he had assured himself of +my identity. "Joseph Crawford was one of our best citizens, one +of our finest men. He hadn't an enemy in the world, my dear Mr. +Burroughs--not an enemy! generous, kindly nature, affable and +friendly with all." + +"But I understand he frowned on his ward's love affair, Mr. +Carstairs." + +"Yes; yes, indeed. And who wouldn't? Young Hall is no fit mate +for Florence Lloyd. He's a fortune-hunter. I know the man, and +his only ambition is the aggrandizement of his own precious +self." + +"Then you don't consider Miss Lloyd concerned in this crime?" + +"Concerned in crime? Florence Lloyd! why, man, you must be +crazy! The idea is unthinkable!" + +I was sorry I had spoken, but I remembered too late that the +suspicions which pointed toward Miss Lloyd were probably known +only to those who had been in the Crawford house that morning. +As for the townspeople in general, though they knew of the +tragedy, they knew very little of its details. + +I hastened to assure Mr. Carstairs that I had never seen Miss +Lloyd, that I had formed no opinions whatever, and that I was +merely repeating what were probably vague and erroneous +suspicions of mistakenly-minded people. + +At last, behind my locked door, I took from my pocket the +newspaper I had brought from Mr. Crawford's office. + +It seemed to me important, from the fact that it was an extra, +published late the night before. + +An Atlantic liner had met with a serious accident, and an extra +had been hastily put forth by one of the most enterprising of our +evening papers. I, myself, had bought one of these extras, about +midnight; and the finding of a copy in the office of the murdered +man might prove a clue to the criminal. + +I then examined carefully the transfer slip I had picked up on +the Crawford lawn. It had been issued after nine o'clock the +evening before. This seemed to me to prove that the holder of +that transfer must have been on the Crawford property and near +the library veranda late last night, and it seemed to me that +this was plain common-sense reasoning, and not mere intuition or +divination. The transfer might have a simple and innocent +explanation, but until I could learn of that, I should hold it +carefully as a possible clue. + + + + +IV + +THE INQUEST + + +Shortly before two o'clock I was back at the Crawford house and +found the large library, where the inquest was to be held, +already well filled with people. I took an inconspicuous seat, +and turned my attention first to the group that comprised, +without a doubt, the members of Mr. Crawford's household. + +Miss Lloyd--for I knew at a glance the black-robed young woman +must be she--was of a striking personality. Tall, large, +handsome, she could have posed as a model for Judith, Zenobia, or +any of the great and powerful feminine characters in history. I +was impressed not so much by her beauty as by her effect of power +and ability. I had absolutely no reason, save Parmalee's +babblings, to suspect this woman of crime, but I could not rid +myself of a conviction that she had every appearance of being +capable of it. + +Yet her face was full of contradictions. The dark eyes were +haughty, even imperious; but the red, curved mouth had a tender +expression, and the chin, though firm and decided-looking, yet +gave an impression of gentleness. + +On the whole, she fascinated me by the very mystery of her charm, +and I found my eyes involuntarily returning again and again to +that beautiful face. + +She was dressed in a black, trailing gown of material which I +think is called China crepe. It fell around her in soft waving +folds and lay in little billows on the floor. Her dark hair was +dressed high on her head, and seemed to form a sort of crown +which well suited her regal type. She held her head high, and +the uplift of her chin seemed to be a natural characteristic. + +Good birth and breeding spoke in every phase of her personality, +and in her every movement and gesture. I remembered Parmalee's +hint of unworthy ancestors, and cast it aside as impossible of +belief. She spoke seldom, but occasionally turned to the lady at +her side with a few murmured words that were indubitably those of +comfort or encouragement. + +Her companion, a gray-haired, elderly lady, was, of course, Mrs. +Pierce. She was trembling with the excitement of the occasion, +and seemed to depend on Florence Lloyd's strong personality and +affectionate sympathy to keep her from utter collapse. + +Mrs. Pierce was of the old school of gentlewomen. Her quiet, +black gown with its crepe trimmings, gave, even to my masculine +eye an effect of correct and fashionable, yet quiet and +unostentatious mourning garb. + +She had what seemed to me a puzzling face. It did not suggest +strength of character, for the soft old cheeks and quivering lips +indicated no strong self-control, and yet from her sharp, dark +eyes she now and again darted glances that were unmistakably +those of a keen and positive personality. + +I concluded that hers was a strong nature, but shaken to its +foundation by the present tragedy. There was, without doubt, a +great affection existing between her and Miss Lloyd, and yet I +felt that they were not in each other's complete confidence. + +Though, for that matter, I felt intuitively that few people +possessed the complete confidence of Florence Lloyd. Surely she +was a wonderful creature, and as I again allowed myself to gaze +on her beautiful face I was equally convinced of the possibility +of her committing a crime and the improbability of her doing so. + +Near these two sat a young man who, I was told, was Gregory Hall, +the secretary. He had been reached by telephone, and had come +out from New York, arriving shortly after I had left the Crawford +house. + +Mr. Hall was what may be termed the average type of young +American citizens. He was fairly good-looking, fairly +well-groomed, and so far as I could judge from his demeanor, +fairly well-bred. His dark hair was commonplace, and parted on +the side, while his small, carefully arranged mustache was +commonplace also. He looked exactly what he was, the trusted +secretary of a financial magnate, and he seemed to me a man whose +dress, manner, and speech would always be made appropriate to the +occasion or situation. In fact, so thoroughly did he exhibit +just such a demeanor as suited a confidential secretary at the +inquest of his murdered employer, that I involuntarily thought +what a fine undertaker he would have made. For, in my +experience, no class of men so perfectly adapt themselves to +varying atmospheres as undertakers. + +Philip Crawford and his son, an athletic looking young chap, were +also in this group. Young Crawford inherited to a degree the +fine appearance of his father and uncle, and bade fair to become +the same kind of a first-class American citizen as they. + +Behind these people, the ones most nearly interested in the +procedure, were gathered the several servants of the house. + +Lambert, the butler, was first interviewed. + +The man was a somewhat pompous, middle-aged Englishman, and +though of stolid appearance, his face showed what might perhaps +be described as an intelligent stupidity. + +After a few formal questions as to his position in the household, +the coroner asked him to tell his own story of the early morning. + +In a more clear and concise way than I should have thought the +man capable of, he detailed his discovery of his master's body. + +"I came down-stairs at seven this morning," he said, "as I always +do. I opened the house, I saw the cook a few moments about +matters pertaining to breakfast, and I attended to my usual +duties. At about half-past seven I went to Mr. Crawford's +office, to set it in order for the day, and as I opened the door +I saw him sitting in his chair. At first I thought he'd dropped +asleep there, and been there all night, then in a moment I saw +what had happened." + +"Well, what did you do next?" asked the coroner, as the man +paused. + +"I went in search of Louis, Mr. Crawford's valet. He was just +coming down the stairs. He looked surprised, for he said Mr. +Crawford was not in his room, and his bed hadn't been slept in." + +"Did he seem alarmed?" + +"No, sir. Not knowing what I knew, he didn't seemed alarmed. +But he seemed agitated, for of course it was most unusual not +finding Mr. Crawford in his own room." + +"How did Louis show his agitation?" broke in Mr. Orville. + +"Well, sir, perhaps he wasn't to say agitated,--he looked more +blank, yes, as you might say, blank." + +"Was he trembling?" persisted Mr. Orville, "was he pale?" and the +coroner frowned slightly at this juror's repeated +inquisitiveness. + +"Louis is always pale," returned the butler, seeming to make an +effort to speak the exact truth. + +"Then of course you couldn't judge of his knowledge of the +matter," Mr. Orville said, with an air of one saying something of +importance. + +"He had no knowledge of the matter, if you mean Mr. Crawford's +death," said Lambert, looking disturbed and a little bewildered. + +"Tell your own story, Lambert," said Coroner Monroe, rather +crisply. "We'll hear what Louis has to say later." + +"Well, sir, then I took Louis to the office, and we both saw the +--the accident, and we wondered what to do. I was for +telephoning right off to Doctor Fairchild, but Louis said first +we'd better tell Miss Florence about it." + +"And did you?" + +"We went out in the hall, and just then Elsa, Miss Lloyd's maid, +was on the stairs. So we told her, and told her to tell Miss +Lloyd, and ask her for orders. Well, her orders was for us to +call up Doctor Fairchild, and so we did. He came as soon as he +could, and he's been in charge ever since, sir." + +"A straightforward story, clearly told," observed the coroner, +and then he called upon Louis, the valet. This witness, a young +Frenchman, was far more nervous and excited than the +calm-mannered butler, but the gist of his story corroborated +Lambert's. + +Asked if he was not called upon to attend his master at bedtime, +he replied + +"Non, M'sieu; when Monsieur Crawford sat late in his library, or +his office, he dismiss me and say I may go to bed, or whatever I +like. Almost alway he tell me that." + +"And he told you this last night?" + +"But yes. When I lay out his clothes for dinner, he then tell me +so." + +Although the man seemed sure enough of his statements he was +evidently troubled in his mind. It might have been merely that +his French nature was more excitable than the stolid indifference +of the English butler. But at the same time I couldn't help +feeling that the man had not told all he knew. This was merely +surmise on my part, and I could not persuade myself that there +was enough ground for it to call it even an intuition. So I +concluded it best to ask no questions of the valet at present, +but to look into his case later. + +Parmalee, however, seemed to have concluded differently. He +looked at Louis with an intent gaze as he said, "Had your master +said or done anything recently to make you think he was +despondent or troubled in any way?" + +"No, sir," said the man; but the answer was not spontaneous, and +Louis's eyes rolled around with an expression of fear. I was +watching him closely myself, and I could not help seeing that +against his will his glance sought always Florence Lloyd, and +though he quickly averted it, he was unable to refrain from +furtive, fleeting looks in her direction. + +"Do you know anything more of this matter than you have told us?" +inquired the coroner of the witness. + +"No, sir," replied Louis, and this time he spoke as with more +certainty. "After Lambert and I came out of Mr. Crawford's +office, we did just exactly as Lambert has tell you." + +"That's all, Louis . . . . But, Lambert, one other matter. Tell +us all you know of Mr. Joseph Crawford's movements last evening." + +"He was at dinner, as usual, sir," said the butler, in his +monotonous drawl. "There were no guests, only the family. After +dinner Mr. Crawford went out for a time. He returned about nine +o'clock. I saw him come in, with his own key, and I saw him go +to his office. Soon after Mr. Porter called." + +"Mr. Lemuel Porter?" asked the coroner. + +"Yes, sir," said the butler; and Mr. Porter, who was one of the +jurors, gravely nodded his head in acquiescence. + +"He stayed until about ten, I should say," went on the butler, +and again Mr. Porter gave an affirmative nod. "I let him out +myself," went on Lambert, "and soon after that I went to the +library to see if Mr. Crawford had any orders for me. He told me +of some household matters he wished me to attend to to-day, and +then he said he would sit up for some time longer, and I might go +to bed if I liked. A very kind and considerate man, sir, was Mr. +Crawford." + +"And did you then go to bed?" + +"Yes, sir. I locked up all the house, except the office. Mr. +Crawford always locks those windows himself, when he sits up +late. The ladies had already gone to their rooms; Mr. Hall was +away for the night, so I closed up the front of the house, and +went to bed. That's all I know about the matter, sir--until I +came down-stairs this morning." + +"You heard no sound in the night--no revolver shot?" + +"No, sir. But my room is on the third floor, and at the other +end of the house, sir. I couldn't hear a shot fired in the +office, I'm sure, sir." + +"And you found no weapon of any sort in the office this morning?" + +"No, sir; Louis and I both looked for that, but there was none in +the room. Of that I'm sure, sir." + +"That will do, Lambert." + +"Yes, sir; thank you, sir." + +"One moment," said I, wishing to know the exact condition of the +house at midnight. "You say, Lambert, you closed up the front of +the house. Does that mean there was a back door open?" + +"It means I locked the front door, sir, and put the chain on. +The library door opening on to the veranda I did not lock, for, +as I said, Mr. Crawford always locks that and the windows in +there when he is there late. The back door I left on the night +latch, as Louis was spending the evening out." + +"Oh, Louis was spending the evening out, was he?" exclaimed Mr. +Orville. "I think that should be looked into, Mr. Coroner. +Louis said nothing of this in his testimony." + +Coroner Monroe turned again to Louis and asked him where he was +the evening before. + +The man was now decidedly agitated, but by an effort he +controlled himself and answered steadily enough: + +"I have tell you that Mr. Crawford say I may go wherever I like. +And so, last evening I spend with a young lady." + +"At what time did you go out?" + +"At half after the eight, sir." + +"And what time did you return?" + +"I return about eleven." + +"And did you then see a light in Mr. Crawford's office?" + +Louis hesitated a moment. It could easily be seen that he was +pausing only to enable himself to speak naturally and clearly, +but it was only after one of those darting glances at Miss Lloyd +that he replied: + +"I could not see Mr. Crawford's office, because I go around the +other side of the house. I make my entree by the back door; I go +straight to my room, and I know nothing of my master until I go +to his room this morning and find him not there." + +"Then you didn't go to his room last night on your return?" + +"As I pass his door, I see it open, and his light low, so I know +he is still below stair." + +"And you did not pass by the library on your way round the +house?" + +Louis's face turned a shade whiter than usual, but he said +distinctly, though in a low voice, "No, sir." + +An involuntary gasp as of amazement was heard, and though I +looked quickly at Miss Lloyd, it was not she who had made the +sound. It was one of the maidservants, a pretty German girl, who +sat behind Miss Lloyd. No one else seemed to notice it, and I +realized it was not surprising that the strain of the occasion +should thus disturb the girl. + +"You heard Louis come in, Lambert?" asked Mr. Monroe, who was +conducting the whole inquiry in a conversational way, rather than +as a formal inquest. + +"Yes, sir; he came in about eleven, and went directly to his +room." + +The butler stood with folded hands, a sad expression in his eyes, +but with an air of importance that seemed to be inseparable from +him, in any circumstances. + +Doctor Fairchild was called as the next witness. + +He testified that he had been summoned that morning at about +quarter before eight o'clock. He had gone immediately to Mr. +Crawford's house, was admitted by the butler, and taken at once +to the office. He found Mr. Crawford dead in his chair, shot +through the left temple with a thirty-two calibre revolver. + +"Excuse me," said Mr. Lemuel Porter, who, with the other jurors, +was listening attentively to all the testimony. "If the weapon +was not found, how do you know its calibre?" + +"I extracted the bullet from the wound," returned Doctor +Fairchild, "and those who know have pronounced it to be a ball +fired from a small pistol of thirty-two calibre." + +"But if Mr. Crawford had committed suicide, the pistol would have +been there," said Mr. Porter; who seemed to be a more acute +thinker than the other jurymen. + +"Exactly," agreed the coroner. "That's why we must conclude that +Mr. Crawford did not take his own life." + +"Nor would he have done so," declared Doctor Fairchild. "I have +known the deceased for many years. He had no reason for wishing +to end his life, and, I am sure, no inclination to do so. He was +shot by an alien hand, and the deed was probably committed at or +near midnight." + +"Thus we assume," the coroner went on, as the doctor finished his +simple statement and resumed his seat, "that Mr. Crawford +remained in his office, occupied with his business matters, +until midnight or later, when some person or persons came into +his room, murdered him, and went away again, without making +sufficient noise or disturbance to arouse the sleeping +household." + +"Perhaps Mr. Crawford himself had fallen asleep in his chair," +suggested one of the jurors,--the Mr. Orville, who was +continually taking notes in his little book. + +"It is possible," said the doctor, as the remark was practically +addressed to him, "but not probable. The attitude in which the +body was found indicates that the victim was awake, and in full +possession of his faculties. Apparently he made no resistance of +any sort." + +"Which seems to show," said the coroner, "that his assailant was +not a burglar or tramp, for in that case he would surely have +risen and tried to put him out. The fact that Mr. Crawford was +evidently shot by a person standing in front of him, seems to +imply that that person's attitude was friendly, and that the +victim had no suspicion of the danger that threatened him." + +This was clear and logical reasoning, and I looked at the coroner +in admiration, until I suddenly remembered Parmalee's hateful +suspicion and wondered if Coroner Monroe was preparing for an +attack upon Miss Lloyd. + +Gregory Hall was summoned next. + +He was self-possessed and even cool in his demeanor. There was a +frank manner about him that pleased me, but there was also a +something which repelled me. + +I couldn't quite explain it to myself, but while he had an air of +extreme straightforwardness, there was also an indefinable effect +of reserve. I couldn't help feeling that if this man had +anything to conceal, he would be quite capable of doing so under +a mask of great outspokenness. + +But, as it turned out, he had nothing either to conceal or +reveal, for he had been away from West Sedgwick since six o'clock +the night before, and knew nothing of the tragedy until he heard +of it by telephone at Mr. Crawford's New York office that morning +about half-past ten. This made him of no importance as a +witness, but Mr. Monroe asked him a few questions. + +"You left here last evening, you say?" + +"On the six o'clock train to New York, yes." + +"For what purpose?" + +"On business for Mr. Crawford." + +"Did that business occupy you last evening?" + +Mr. Hall looked surprised at this question, but answered quietly + +"No; I was to attend to the business to-day. But I often go to +New York for several days at a time." + +"And where were you last evening?" pursued the coroner. + +This time Mr. Hall looked more surprised still, and said + +"As it has no bearing on the matter in hand, I prefer not to +answer that rather personal question." + +Mr. Monroe looked surprised in his turn, and said: "I think I +must insist upon an answer, Mr. Hall, for it is quite necessary +that we learn the whereabouts of every member of this household +last evening." + +"I cannot agree with you, sir," said Gregory Hall, coolly; "my +engagements for last evening were entirely personal matters, in +no way connected with Mr. Crawford's business. As I was not in +West Sedgwick at the time my late employer met his death, I +cannot see that my private affairs need be called into question." + +"Quite so, quite so," put in Mr. Orville; but Lemuel Porter +interrupted him. + +"Not at all so. I agree with Mr. Monroe, that Mr. Hall should +frankly tell us where he spent last evening." + +"And I refuse to do so," said Mr. Hall, speaking not angrily, but +with great decision. + +"Your refusal may tend to direct suspicion toward yourself, Mr. +Hall," said the coroner. + +Gregory Hall smiled slightly. "As I was out of town, your +suggestion sounds a little absurd. However, I take that risk, +and absolutely refuse to answer any questions save those which +relate to the matter in hand." + +Coroner Monroe looked rather helplessly at his jurors, but as +none of them said anything further, he turned again to Gregory +Hall. + +"The telephone message you received this morning, then, was the +first knowledge you had of Mr. Crawford's death?" + +"It was." + +"And you came out here at once?" + +"Yes; on the first train I could catch." + +"I am sorry you resent personal questions, Mr. Hall, for I must +ask you some. Are you engaged to Mr. Crawford's niece, Miss +Lloyd?" + +"I am." + +This answer was given in a low, quiet tone, apparently without +emotion of any kind, but Miss Lloyd showed, a different attitude. +At the words of Gregory Hall, she blushed, dropped her eyes, +fingered her handkerchief nervously, and evinced just such +embarrassment as might be expected from any young woman, in the +event of a public mention of her betrothal. And yet I had not +looked for such an exhibition from Florence Lloyd. Her very +evident strength of character would seem to preclude the actions +of an inexperienced debutante. + +"Did Mr. Crawford approve of your engagement to his niece?" +pursued Mr. Monroe. + +"With all due respect, Mr. Coroner," said Gregory Hall, in his +subdued but firm way, "I cannot think these questions are +relevant or pertinent. Unless you can assure me that they are, I +prefer not to reply." + +"They are both relevant and pertinent to the matter in hand, Mr. +Hall; but I am now of the opinion that they would better be asked +of another witness. You are excused. I now call Miss Florence +Lloyd." + + + + +V + +FLORENCE LLOYD + + +A stir was perceptible all through the room as Miss Lloyd +acknowledged by a bow of her beautiful head the summons of the +coroner. + +The jurors looked at her with evident sympathy and admiration, +and I remembered that as they were fellow-townsmen and neighbors +they probably knew the young woman well, and she was doubtless a +friend of their own daughters. + +It seemed as if such social acquaintance must prejudice them in +her favor, and perhaps render them incapable of unbiased +judgment, should her evidence be incriminating. But in my secret +heart, I confess, I felt glad of this. I was glad of anything +that would keep even a shadow of suspicion away from this girl to +whose fascinating charm I had already fallen a victim. + +Nor was I the only one in the room who dreaded the mere thought +of Miss Lloyd's connection with this horrible matter. + +Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter were, I could see, greatly concerned +lest some mistaken suspicion should indicate any doubt of the +girl. I could see by their kindly glances that she was a +favorite, and was absolutely free from suspicion in their minds. + +Mr. Orville had not quite the same attitude. Though he looked at +Miss Lloyd admiringly, I felt sure he was alertly ready to pounce +upon anything that might seem to connect her with a guilty +knowledge of this crime. + +Gregory Hall's attitude was inexplicable, and I concluded I had +yet much to learn about that young man. He looked at Miss Lloyd +critically, and though his glance could not be called quite +unsympathetic, yet it showed no definite sympathy. He seemed to +be coldly weighing her in his own mental balance, and he seemed +to await whatever she might be about to say with the impartial +air of a disinterested judge. Though a stranger myself, my heart +ached for the young woman who was placed so suddenly in such a +painful position, but Gregory Hall apparently lacked any personal +interest in the case. + +I felt sure this was not true, that he was not really so +unconcerned as he appeared; but I could not guess why he chose to +assume an impassive mask. + +Miss Lloyd had not risen as it was not required of her, and she +sat expectant, but with no sign of nervousness. Mrs. Pierce, her +companion, was simply quivering with agitation. Now and again +she would touch Miss Lloyd's shoulder or hand, or whisper a word +of encouragement, or perhaps wring her own hands in futile +despair. + +Of course these demonstrations were of little avail, nor did it +seem as if Florence Lloyd needed assistance or support. + +She gave the impression not only of general capability in +managing her own affairs, but of a special strength in an +emergency. + +And an emergency it was; for though the two before-mentioned +jurors, who had been intimate friends of her uncle, were +doubtless in sympathy with Miss Lloyd, and though the coroner was +kindly disposed toward her, yet the other jurors took little +pains to conceal their suspicious attitude, and as for Mr. +Parmalee, he was fairly eager with anticipation of the +revelations about to come. + +"Your name?" said the corner briefly, as if conquering his own +sympathy by an unnecessarily formal tone. + +"Florence Lloyd," was the answer. + +"Your position in this house?" + +"I am the niece of Mrs. Joseph Crawford, who died many years ago. +Since her death I have lived with Mr. Crawford, occupying in +every respect the position of his daughter, though not legally +adopted as such." + +"Mr. Crawford was always kind to you?" + +"More than kind. He was generous and indulgent, and, though not +of an affectionate nature, he was always courteous and gentle." + +"Will you tell us of the last time you saw him alive?" + +Miss Lloyd hesitated. She showed no embarrassment, no +trepidation; she merely seemed to be thinking. + +Her gaze slowly wandered over the faces of the servants, Mrs. +Pierce, Mr. Philip Crawford, the jurors, and, lastly, dwelt for a +moment on the now anxious, worried countenance of Gregory Hall. + +Then she said slowly, but in an even, unemotional voice: "It was +last night at dinner. After dinner was over, my uncle went out, +and before he returned I had gone to my room." + +"Was there anything unusual about his appearance or demeanor at +dinner-time?" + +"No; I noticed nothing of the sort." + +"Was he troubled or annoyed about any matter, that you know of?" + +"He was annoyed about one matter that has been annoying him for +some time: that is, my engagement to Mr. Hall." + +Apparently this was the answer the coroner had expected, for he +nodded his head in a satisfied way. + +The jurors, too, exchanged intelligent glances, and I realized +that the acquaintances of the Crawfords were well informed as to +Miss Lloyd's romance. + +"He did not approve of that engagement?" went on the coroner, +though he seemed to be stating a fact, rather than asking a +question. + +"He did not," returned Miss Lloyd, and her color rose as she +observed the intense interest manifest among her hearers. + +"And the subject was discussed at the dinner table?" + +"It was." + +"What was the tenor of the conversation?" + +"To the effect that I must break the engagement." + +"Which you refused to do?" + +"I did." + +Her cheeks were scarlet now, but a determined note had crept into +her voice, and she looked at her betrothed husband with an air of +affectionate pride that, it seemed to me, ought to lift any man +into the seventh heaven. But I noted Mr. Hall's expression with +surprise. Instead of gazing adoringly at this girl who was thus +publicly proving her devotion to him, he sat with eyes cast down, +and frowning--positively frowning--while his fingers played +nervously with his watch-chain. + +Surely this case required my closest attention, for I place far +more confidence in deductions from facial expression and tones of +the voice, than from the discovery of small, inanimate objects. + +And if I chose to deduce from facial expressions I had ample +scope in the countenances of these two people. + +I was particularly anxious not to jump at an unwarrantable +conclusion, but the conviction was forced upon me then and there +that these two people knew more about the crime than they +expected to tell. I certainly did not suspect either of them to +be touched with guilt, but I was equally sure that they were not +ingenuous in their testimony. + +While I knew that they were engaged, having heard it from both of +them, I could not think that the course of their love affair was +running smoothly. I found myself drifting into idle speculation +as to whether this engagement was more desired by one than the +other, and if so, by which. + +But though I could not quite understand these two, it gave me no +trouble to know which I admired more. At the moment, Miss Lloyd +seemed to me to represent all that was beautiful, noble and +charming in womanhood, while Gregory Hall gave me the impression +of a man crafty, selfish and undependable. However, I fully +realized that I was theorizing without sufficient data, and +determinedly I brought my attention back to the coroner's +catalogue of questions. + +"Who else heard this conversation, besides yourself, Miss Lloyd?" + +"Mrs. Pierce was at the table with us, and the butler was in the +room much of the time." + +The purport of the coroner's question was obvious. Plainly he +meant that she might as well tell the truth in the matter, as her +testimony could easily be overthrown or corroborated. + +Miss Lloyd deliberately looked at the two persons mentioned. +Mrs. Pierce was trembling as with nervous apprehension, but she +looked steadily at Miss Lloyd, with eyes full of loyalty and +devotion. + +And yet Mrs. Pierce was a bit mysterious also. If I could read +her face aright, it bore the expression of one who would stand by +her friend whatever might come. If she herself had had doubts of +Florence Lloyd's integrity, but was determined to suppress them +and swear to a belief in her, she would look just as she did now. + +On the other hand the butler, Lambert, who stood with folded +arms, gazed straight ahead with an inscrutable countenance, but +his set lips and square jaw betokened decision. + +As I read it, Miss Lloyd knew, as she looked, that should she +tell an untruth about that talk at the dinner-table, Mrs. Pierce +would repeat and corroborate her story; but Lambert would refute +her, and would state veraciously what his master had said. +Clearly, it was useless to attempt a false report, and, with a +little sigh, Miss Lloyd seemed to resign herself to her fate, and +calmly awaited the coroner's further questions. + +But though still calm, she had lost her poise to some degree. +The lack of responsive glances from Gregory Hall's eyes seemed to +perplex her. The eager interest of the six jurymen made her +restless and embarrassed. The coroner's abrupt questions +frightened her, and I feared her self-enforced calm must sooner +or later give way. + +And now I noticed that Louis, the valet, was again darting those +uncontrollable glances toward her. And as the agitated Frenchman +endeavored to control his own countenance, I chanced to observe +that the pretty-faced maid I had noticed before, was staring +fixedly at Louis. Surely there were wheels within wheels, and +the complications of this matter were not to be solved by the +simple questions of the coroner. But of course this preliminary +examination was necessary, and it was from this that I must learn +the main story, and endeavor to find out the secrets afterward. + +"What was your uncle's response when you refused to break your +engagement to Mr. Hall?" was the next inquiry. + +Again Miss Lloyd was silent for a moment, while she directed her +gaze successively at several individuals. This time she favored +Mr. Randolph, who was Mr. Crawford's lawyer, and Philip Crawford, +the dead man's brother. After looking in turn at these two, and +glancing for a moment at Philip Crawford's son, who sat by his +side, she said, in a lower voice than she had before used + +"He said he would change his will, and leave none of his fortune +to me." + +"His will, then, has been made in your favor?" + +"Yes; he has always told me I was to be sole heiress to his +estate, except for some comparatively small bequests." + +"Did he ever threaten this proceeding before?" + +"He had hinted it, but not so definitely." + +"Did Mr. Hall know of Mr. Crawford's objection to his suit?" + +"He did." + +"Did he know of your uncle's hints of disinheritance?" + +"He did." + +"What was his attitude in the matter?" + +Florence Lloyd looked proudly at her lover. + +"The same as mine," she said. "We both regretted my uncle's +protest, but we had no intention of letting it stand in the way +of our happiness." + +Still Gregory Hall did not look at his fiancee. He sat +motionless, preoccupied, and seemingly lost in deep thought, +oblivious to all that was going on. + +Whether his absence from Sedgwick at the time of the murder made +him feel that he was in no way implicated, and so the inquiry +held no interest for him; or whether he was looking ahead and +wondering whither these vital questions were leading Florence +Lloyd, I had no means of knowing. Certainly, he was a man of +most impassive demeanor and marvellous self-control. + +"Then, in effect, you defied your uncle?" + +"In effect, I suppose I did; but not in so many words. I always +tried to urge him to see the matter in a different light." + +"What was his objection to Mr. Hall as your husband?" + +"Must I answer that?" + +"Yes; I think so; as I must have a clear understanding of the +whole affair." + +"Well, then, he told me that he had no objection to Mr. Hall, +personally. But he wished me to make what he called a more +brilliant alliance. He wanted me to marry a man of greater +wealth and social position." + +The scorn in Miss Lloyd's voice for her uncle's ambitions was so +unmistakable that it made her whole answer seem a compliment to +Mr. Hall, rather than the reverse. It implied that the sterling +worth of the young secretary was far more to be desired than the +riches and rank advocated by her uncle. This time Gregory Hall +looked at the speaker with a faint smile, that showed +appreciation, if not adoration. + +But I did not gather from his attitude that he did not adore his +beautiful bride-to-be; I only concluded that he was not one to +show his feelings in public. + +However, I couldn't help feeling that I had learned which of the +two was more anxious for the engagement to continue. + +"In what way was your uncle more definite in his threat last +night, than he had been heretofore?" the coroner continued. + +Miss Lloyd gave a little gasp, as if the question she had been +dreading had come at last. She looked at the inexorable face of +the butler, she looked at Mr. Randolph, and then flashed a half- +timid glance at Hall, as she answered + +"He said that unless I promised to give up Mr. Hall, he would go +last night to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will drawn up." + +"Did he do so?" exclaimed Gregory Hall, an expression almost of +fear appearing on his commonplace face. + +Miss Lloyd looked at him, and seemed startled. Apparently his +sudden question had surprised her. + +Mr. Monroe paid no attention to Mr. Hall's remark, but said to +Miss Lloyd, "He had made such threats before, had he not?" + +"Yes, but not with the same determination. He told me in so many +words, I must choose between Mr. Hall or the inheritance of his +fortune." + +"And your answer to this?" + +"I made no direct answer. I had told him many times that I had +no intention of breaking my engagement, whatever course he might +choose to pursue." + +Mr. Orville was clearly delighted with the turn things were +taking. He already scented a sensation, and he scribbled +industriously in his rapidly filling note-book. + +This habit of his disgusted me, for surely the jurors on this +preliminary inquest could come to their conclusions without a +detailed account of all these conversations. + +I also resented the looks of admiration which Mr. Orville cast at +the beautiful girl. It seemed to me that with the exception of +Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who were family friends, the jurors +should have maintained a formal and impersonal attitude. + +Mr. Hamilton spoke directly to Miss Lloyd on the subject. + +"I am greatly surprised," he said, "that Mr. Crawford should take +such a stand. He has often spoken to me of you as his heiress, +and to my knowledge, your engagement to Mr. Hall is not of +immediately recent date." + +"No," said Miss Lloyd, "but it is only recently that my uncle +expressed his disapprobation so strongly; and last night at +dinner was the first time he positively stated his intention in +regard to his will." + +At this Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter conversed together in +indignant whispers, and it was quite evident that they did not +approve of Mr. Crawford's treatment of his niece. + +Mr. Philip Crawford looked astounded, and also dismayed, which +surprised me, as I had understood that had it not been for Miss +Lloyd, he himself would have been his brother's heir. + +Mr. Randolph showed only a lawyer-like, noncommittal expression, +and Gregory Hall, too, looked absolutely impassive. + +The coroner grew more alert, as if he had discovered something of +definite import, and asked eagerly, + +"Did he do so? Did he go to his lawyer's and make another will?" + +Miss Lloyd's cold calm had returned, and seemed to rebuke the +coroner's excited interest. + +"I do not know," she replied. "He went out after dinner, as I +have told you, but I retired to my bedroom before he came home." + +"And you did not come down-stairs again last night?" + +"I did not." + +The words were spoken in a clear, even tone; but something made +me doubt their truth. It was not the voice or inflection; there +was no hesitation or stammer, but a sudden and momentary droop of +Miss Lloyd's eyelids seemed to me to give the lie to her words. + +I wondered if Gregory Hall had the same thought, for he slowly +raised his own eyes and looked at her steadily for the first time +since her testimony began. + +She did not look at him. Instead, she was staring at the butler. +Either she had reason to fear his knowledge, or I was fanciful. +With an endeavor to shake off these shadows of suspicion, I +chanced to look at Parmalee. To my disgust, he was quite +evidently gloating over the disclosures being made by the +witness. I felt my anger rise, and I determined then and there +that if suspicion of guilt or complicity should by any chance +unjustly light on that brave and lovely girl, I would make the +effort of my life to clear her from it. + +"You did not come down again," the coroner went on pointedly, "to +ask your uncle if he had changed his will?" + +"No, I did not," she replied, with such a ring of truth in her +scornful voice, that my confidence returned, and I truly believed +her. + +"Then you were not in your uncle's office last evening at all?" + +"I was not." + +"Nor through the day?" + +She reflected a moment. "No, nor through the day. It chanced I +had no occasion to go in there yesterday at all." + +At these assertions of Miss Lloyd's, the Frenchman, Louis, looked +greatly disturbed. He tried very hard to conceal his agitation, +but it was not at all difficult to read on his face an endeavor +to look undisturbed at what he heard. + +I hadn't a doubt, myself, that the man either knew something that +would incriminate Miss Lloyd, or that they two had a mutual +knowledge of some fact as yet concealed. + +I was surprised that no one else seemed to notice this, but the +attention of every one in the room was concentrated on the +coroner and the witness, and so Louis's behavior passed +unnoticed. + +At this juncture, Mr. Lemuel Porter spoke with some dignity. + +"It would seem," he said, "that this concludes Miss Lloyd's +evidence in the matter. She has carried the narrative up to the +point where Mr. Joseph Crawford went out of his house after +dinner. As she herself retired to her room before his return, +and did not again leave her room until this morning, she can have +nothing further to tell us bearing on the tragedy. And as it is +doubtless a most painful experience for her, I trust, Mr. +Coroner, that you will excuse her from further questioning." + +"But wait a minute," Parmalee began, when Mr Hamilton interrupted +him--"Mr. Porter is quite right," he said; "there is no reason +why Miss Lloyd should be further troubled in this matter. I feel +free to advise her dismissal from the witness stand, because of +my acquaintance and friendship with this household. Our coroner +and most of our jurors are strangers to Miss Lloyd, and perhaps +cannot appreciate as I do the terrible strain this experience +means to her." + +"You're right Hamilton," said Mr. Philip Crawford; "I was remiss +not to think of it myself. Mr. Monroe, this is not a formal +inquest, and in the interest of kindness and humanity, I ask you +to excuse Miss Lloyd from further questioning for the present." + +I was surprised at the requests of these elderly gentlemen, for +though it seemed to me that Miss Lloyd's testimony was complete, +yet it also seemed as if Gregory Hall were the one to show +anxiety that she be spared further annoyance. + +However, Florence Lloyd spoke for herself. + +"I am quite willing to answer any further questions," she said; +"I have answered all you have asked, and I have told you frankly +the truth. Though it is far from pleasant to have my individual +affairs thus brought to notice, I am quite ready to do anything +to forward the cause of justice or to aid in any way the +discovery of my uncle's murderer." + +"Thank you," said Mr. Monroe; "I quite appreciate the extreme +unpleasantness of your position. But, Miss Lloyd, there are a +few more questions I must ask you. Pardon me if I repeat myself, +but I ask you once more if you did not come down to your uncle's +office last evening after he had returned from his call on Mr. +Randolph." + +As I watched Florence Lloyd I saw that her eyes did not turn +toward the coroner, or toward her fiance, or toward the jury, but +she looked straight at Louis, the valet, as she replied in clear +tones + +"I did not." + + + + +VI + +THE GOLD BAG + + +"Is this yours?" asked Mr. Monroe, suddenly whisking into sight +the gold-mesh bag. + +Probably his intent had been to startle her, and thus catch her +off her guard. If so, he succeeded, for the girl was certainly +startled, if only at the suddenness of the query. + +"N-no," she stammered; "it's--it's not mine." + +"Are you sure?" the coroner went on, a little more gently, +doubtless moved by her agitation. + +"I'm--I'm quite sure. Where did you find it?" + +"What size gloves do you wear, Miss Lloyd?" + +"Number six." She said this mechanically, as if thinking of +something else, and her face was white. + +"These are number six," said the coroner, as he took a pair of +gloves from the bag. "Think again, Miss Lloyd. Do you not own a +gold-chain bag, such as this?" + +"I have one something like that--or, rather, I did have one." + +"Ah! And what did you do with it?" + +"I gave it to my maid, Elsa, some days ago." + +"Why did you do that?" + +"Because I was tired of it, and as it was a trifle worn, I had +ceased to care to carry it." + +"Is it not a somewhat expensive trinket to turn over to your +maid?" + +"No; they are not real gold. At least, I mean mine was not. It +was gilt over silver, and cost only about twelve or fourteen +dollars when new." + +"What did you usually carry in it?" + +"What every woman carries in such a bag. Handkerchief, some +small change, perhaps a vanity-box, gloves, tickets--whatever +would be needed on an afternoon's calling or shopping tour." + +"Miss Lloyd, you have enumerated almost exactly the articles in +this bag." + +"Then that is a coincidence, for it is not my bag." + +The girl was entirely self-possessed again, and even a little +aggressive. + +I admit that I did not believe her statements. Of course I could +not be sure she was telling untruths, but her sudden +embarrassment at the first sight of the bag, and the way in which +she regained her self-possession, made me doubt her clear +conscience in the matter. + +Parmalee, who had come over and sat beside me, whispered: +"Striking coincidence, isn't it?" + +Although his sarcasm voiced my own thoughts, yet it irritated me +horribly to hear him say it. + +"But ninety-nine women out of a hundred would experience the same +coincidence," I returned. + +"But the other ninety-eight weren't in the house last night, and +she was." + +At this moment Mrs. Pierce, whom I had suspected of feeling far +deeper interest than she had so far shown, volunteered a remark. + +"Of course that isn't Florence's bag," she said; "if Florence had +gone to her uncle's office last evening, she would have been +wearing her dinner gown, and certainly would not carry a street +bag." + +"Is this a street bag?" inquired Mr. Monroe, looking with a +masculine helplessness at the gilt bauble. + +"Of course it is," said Mrs. Pierce, who now that she had found +her voice, seemed anxious to talk. "Nobody ever carries a bag +like that in the house,--in the evening." + +"But," began Parmalee, "such a thing might have occurred, if Miss +Lloyd had had occasion to go to her uncle's office with, we will +say, papers or notes." + +Personally I thought this an absurd suggestion, but Mr. Monroe +seemed to take it seriously. + +"That might be," he said, and I could see that momentarily the +suspicions against Florence Lloyd were growing in force and were +taking definite shape. + +As I noted the expressions, on the various faces, I observed that +only Mr. Philip Crawford and the jurors Hamilton and Porter +seemed entirely in sympathy with the girl. The coroner, +Parmalee, and even the lawyer, Randolph, seemed to be willing, +almost eager for her to incriminate herself. + +Gregory Hall, who should have been the most sympathetic of all, +seemed the most coldly indifferent, and as for Mrs. Pierce, her +actions were so erratic and uncertain, no one could tell what she +thought. + +"You are quite positive it is not your bag?" repeated the coroner +once more. + +"I'm positive it is not mine," returned Miss Lloyd, without undue +emphasis, but with an air of dismissing the subject. + +"Is your maid present?" asked the coroner. "Let her be +summoned." + +Elsa came forward, the pretty, timid young girl, of German +effects, whom I had already noticed. + +"Have you ever seen this bag before?" asked the coroner, holding +it up before her. + +"Yes, sir." + +"When?" + +"This morning, sir. Lambert showed it to me, sir. He said he +found it in Mr. Crawford's office." + +The girl was very pale, and trembled pitiably. She seemed afraid +of the coroner, of Lambert, of Miss Lloyd, and of the jury. It +might have been merely the unreasonable fear of an ignorant mind, +but it had the appearance of some more definite apprehension. + +Especially did she seem afraid of the man, Louis. Though perhaps +the distressed glances she cast at him were not so much those of +fear as of anxiety. + +The coroner spoke kindly to her, and really seemed to take more +notice of her embarrassment, and make more effort to put her at +her ease than he had done with Miss Lloyd. + +"Is it Miss Lloyd's bag?" + +"I don't think so, sir." + +"Don't you know? As her personal maid, you must be acquainted +with her belongings." + +"Yes, sir. No, it isn't hers, sir." + +But as this statement was made after a swift but noticeable +glance of inquiry at her mistress, a slight distrust of Elsa +formed in my own mind, and probably in the minds of others. + +"She has one like this, has she not?" + +"She--she did have, sir; but she--she gave it to me." + +"Yes? Then go and get it and let us see it." + +"I haven't it now, sir. I--I gave it away." + +"Oh, you gave it away! To whom? Can you get it back?" + +"No, sir; I gave it to my cousin, who sailed for Germany last +week." + +Miss Lloyd looked up in surprise, and that look of surprise told +against her. I could see Parmalee's eyes gleam as he concluded +in his own mind that the bag story was all false, was made up +between mistress and maid, and that the part about the departing +cousin was an artistic touch added by Elsa. + +The coroner, too, seemed inclined to disbelieve the present +witness, and he sat thoughtfully snapping the catch of the bag. + +He turned again to Miss Lloyd. "Having given away your own bag," +he said suavely, "you have perhaps provided yourself with +another, have you not?" + +"Why, no, I haven't," said Florence Lloyd. "I have been +intending to do so, and shall get one shortly, but I haven't yet +selected it." + +"And in the meantime you have been getting along without any?" + +"A gold-mesh bag is not an indispensable article; I have several +bags of other styles, and I'm in no especial haste to purchase a +new one." + +Miss Lloyd's manner had taken on several degrees of hauteur, and +her voice was incisive in its tone. Clearly she resented this +discussion of her personal belongings, and as she entirely +repudiated the ownership of the bag in the coroner's possession, +she was annoyed at his questions. + +Mr. Monroe looked at her steadily. + +"If this is not your bag, Miss Lloyd," he said, with some +asperity, "how did it get on Mr. Crawford's desk late last night? +The butler has assured me it was not there when he looked in at a +little after ten o'clock. Yet this morning it lay there, in +plain sight on the desk. Whose bag is it?" + +"I have not the slightest idea," said Miss Lloyd firmly; "but, I +repeat, it is not mine." + +"Easy enough to see the trend of Monroe's questions," said +Parmalee in my ear. "If he can prove this bag to be Miss +Lloyd's, it shows that she was in the office after ten o'clock +last night, and this she has denied." + +"Don't you believe her?" said I. + +"Indeed I don't. Of course she was there, and of course it's her +bag. She put that pretty maid of hers up to deny it, but any one +could see the maid was lying, also." + +"Oh, come now, Parmalee, that's too bad! You've no right to say +such things!" + +"Oh, pshaw! you think the same yourself, only you think it isn't +chivalrous to put it into words." + +Of course what annoyed me in Parmalee's speech was its inherent +truth. I didn't believe Florence Lloyd. Much as I wanted to, I +couldn't; for the appearance, manner and words of both women were +not such as to inspire belief in their hearers. + +If she and Elsa were in collusion to deny her ownership of the +bag, it would be hard to prove the contrary, for the men-servants +could not be supposed to know, and I had no doubt Mrs. Pierce +would testify as Miss Lloyd did on any matter. + +I was sorry not to put more confidence in the truth of the +testimony I was hearing, but I am, perhaps, sceptical by nature. +And, too, if Florence Lloyd were in any way implicated in the +death of her uncle, I felt pretty sure she would not hesitate at +untruth. + +Her marvellous magnetism attracted me strongly, but it did not +blind me to the strength of her nature. While I could not, as +yet, believe her in any way implicated in the death of her uncle, +I was fully convinced she knew more concerning it than she had +told and I knew, unless forced to, she would not tell what she +desired to keep secret. + +My sympathy, of course, was with her, but my duty was plain. As +a detective, I must investigate fairly, or give up the case. + +At this juncture, I knew the point at issue was the presence of +Miss Lloyd in the office last night, and the two yellow rose +petals I had picked up on the floor might prove a clue. + +At any rate it was my duty to investigate the point, so taking a +card from my pocket I wrote upon it: "Find out if Miss Lloyd wore +any flowers last evening, and what kind." + +I passed this over to Mr. Monroe, and rather enjoyed seeing his +mystification as he read it. + +To my surprise he did not question Florence Lloyd immediately, +but turned again to the maid. + +"At what time did your mistress go to her room last evening?" + +"At about ten o'clock, sir. I was waiting there for her, and so +I am sure." + +"Did she at once retire?" + +"No, sir. She changed her evening gown for a teagown, and then +said she would sit up for an hour or so and write letters, and I +needn't wait." + +"You left her then?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Did Miss Lloyd wear any flowers at dinner last evening?" + +"No, sir. There were no guests--only the family." + +"Ah, quite so. But did she, by chance, pin on any flowers after +she went to her room?" + +"Why, yes, sir; she did. A box of roses had come for her by a +messenger, and when she found them in her room, she pinned one on +the lace of her teagown." + +"Yes? And what time did the flowers arrive?" + +"While Miss Lloyd was at dinner, sir. I took them from the box +and put them in water, sir." + +"And what sort of flowers were they?" + +"Yellow roses, sir." + +"That will do, Elsa. You are excused." + +The girl looked bewildered, and a little embarrassed as she +returned to her place among the other servants, and Miss Lloyd +looked a little bewildered also. + +But then, for that matter, no body understood the reason for the +questions about the flowers, and though most of the jury merely +looked preternaturally wise on the subject, Mr. Orville scribbled +it all down in his little book. I was now glad to see the man +keep up his indefatigable note-taking. If the reporters or +stenographers missed any points, I could surely get them from +him. + +But from the industry with which he wrote, I began to think he +must be composing an elaborate thesis on yellow roses and their +habits. + +Mr. Porter, looking greatly puzzled, observed to the coroner, "I +have listened to your inquiries with interest; and I would like +to know what, if any, special importance is attached to this +subject of yellow roses." + +"I'm not able to tell you," replied Mr. Monroe. "I asked these +questions at the instigation of another, who doubtless has some +good reason for them, which he will explain in due time." + +Mr. Porter seemed satisfied with this, and I nodded my head at +the coroner, as if bidding him to proceed. + +But if I had been surprised before at the all but spoken +intelligence which passed between the two servants, Elsa and +Louis, I was more amazed now. They shot rapid glances at each +other, which were evidently full of meaning to themselves. Elsa +was deathly white, her lips trembled, and she looked at the +Frenchman as if in terror of her life. But though he glanced at +her meaningly, now and then, Louis's anxiety seemed to me to be +more for Florence Lloyd than for her maid. + +But now the coroner was talking very gravely to Miss Lloyd. + +"Do you corroborate," he was saying, "the statements of your maid +about the flowers that were sent you last evening?" + +"I do," she replied. + +"From whom did they come?" + +"From Mr. Hall." + +"Mr. Hall," said, the coroner, turning toward the young man, "how +could you send flowers to Miss Lloyd last evening if you were in +New York City?" + +"Easily," was the cool reply. "I left Sedgwick on the six +o'clock train. On my way to the station I stopped at a florist's +and ordered some roses sent to Miss Lloyd. If they did not +arrive until she was at dinner, they were not sent immediately, +as the florist promised." + +"When did you receive them, Miss Lloyd?" + +"They were in my room when I event up there at about ten o'clock +last evening," she replied, and her face showed her wonderment at +these explicit questions. + +The coroner's face showed almost as much wonderment, and I said: +"Perhaps, Mr. Monroe, I may ask a few questions right here." + +"Certainly," he replied. + +And thus it was, for the first time in my life, I directly +addressed Florence Lloyd. + +"When you went up to your room at ten o'clock, the flowers were +there?" I asked, and I felt a most uncomfortable pounding at my +heart because of the trap I was deliberately laying for her. But +it had to be done, and even as I spoke, I experienced a glad +realization, that if she were innocent, my questions could do her +no harm. + +"Yes," she repeated, and for the first time favored me with a +look of interest. I doubt if she knew my name or scarcely knew +why I was there. + +"And you pinned one on your gown?" + +"I tucked it in among the laces at my throat, yes." + +"Miss Lloyd, do you still persist in saying you did not go +down-stairs again, to your uncle's office?" + +"I did not," she repeated, but she turned white, and her voice +was scarce more than a whisper. + +"Then," said I, "how did two petals of a yellow rose happen to +be on the floor in the office this morning?" + + + + +VII + +YELLOW ROSES + + +If any one expected to see Miss Lloyd faint or collapse at this +crisis he must have been disappointed, and as I had confidently +expected such a scene, I was completely surprised at her quick +recovery of self-possession. + +For an instant she had seemed stunned by my question, and her +eyes had wandered vaguely round the room, as if in a vain search +for help. + +Her glance returned to me, and in that instant I gave her an +answering look, which, quite involuntarily on my part, meant a +grave and serious offer of my best and bravest efforts in her +behalf. Disingenuous she might be, untruthful she might be, yes, +even a criminal she might be, but in any case I was her sworn +ally forever. Not that I meant to defeat the ends of justice, +but I was ready to fight for her or with her, until justice +should defeat us. Of course she didn't know all this, though I +couldn't help hoping she read a little of it as my eyes looked +into hers. If so, she recognized it only by a swift withdrawal +of her own glance. Again she looked round at her various +friends. + +Then her eyes rested on Gregory Hall, and, though he gave her no +responsive glance, for some reason her poise returned like a +flash. It was as if she had been invigorated by a cold douche. + +Determination fairly shone in her dark eyes, and her mouth showed +a more decided line than I had yet seen in its red curves, as +with a cold, almost hard voice she replied + +"I have no idea. We have many flowers in the house, always." + +"But I have learned from the servants that there were no other +yellow roses in the house yesterday." + +Miss Lloyd was not hesitant now. She replied quickly, and it was +with an almost eager haste that she said + +"Then I can only imagine that my uncle had some lady visitor in +his office late last evening." + +The girl's mood had changed utterly; her tone was almost +flippant, and more than one of the jurors looked at her in +wonderment. + +Mr. Porter, especially, cast an her a glance of fatherly +solicitude, and I was sure that he felt, as I did, that the +strain was becoming too much for her. + +"I don't think you quite mean that, Florence," he said; "you and +I knew your uncle too well to say such things." + +But the girl made no reply, and her beautiful mouth took on a +hard line. + +"It is not an impossible conjecture," said Philip Crawford +thoughtfully. "If the bag does not belong to Florence, what more +probable than that it was left by its feminine owner? The same +lady might have worn or carried yellow roses." + +Perhaps it was because of my own desire to help her that these +other men had joined their efforts to mine to ease the way as +much as possible. + +The coroner looked a little uncomfortable, for he began to note +the tide of sympathy turning toward the troubled girl. + +"Yellow roses do not necessarily imply a lady visitor," he said, +rather more kindly. "A man in evening dress might have worn +one." + +To his evident surprise, as well as to my own, this remark, +intended to be soothing, had quite the opposite effect. + +"That is not at all probable," said Miss Lloyd quite angrily. +"Mr. Porter was in the office last evening; if he was wearing a +yellow rose at the time, let him say so." + +"I was not," said Mr. Porter quietly, but looking amazed at the +sudden outburst of the girl. + +"Of course you weren't!" Miss Lloyd went on, still in the same +excited way. "Men don't wear roses nowadays, except perhaps at a +ball; and, anyway, the gold bag surely implies that a woman was +there!" + +"It seems to," said Mr. Monroe; and then, unable longer to keep +up her brave resistance, Florence Lloyd fainted. + +Mrs. Pierce wrung her hands and moaned in a helpless fashion. +Elsa started forward to attend her young mistress, but it was the +two neighbors who were jurors, Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, who +carried the unconscious girl from the room. + +Gregory Hall looked concerned, but made no movement to aid, and I +marvelled afresh at such strange actions in a man betrothed to a +particularly beautiful woman. + +Several women in the audience hurried from the room, and in a few +moments the two jurors returned. + +"Miss Lloyd will soon be all right, I think," said Mr. Porter to +the coroner. "My wife is with her, and one or two other ladies. +I think we may proceed with our work here." + +There was something about Mr. Lemuel Porter that made men accept +his dictum, and without further remark Mr. Monroe called the next +witness, Mr. Roswell Randolph, and a tall man, with an +intellectual face, came forward. + +While the coroner was putting the formal and preliminary +questions to Mr. Randolph, Parmalee quietly drew my attention to +a whispered conversation going on between Elsa and Louis. + +If this girl had fainted instead of Miss Lloyd, I should not have +been surprised for she seemed on the very verge of nervous +collapse. She seemed, too, to be accusing the man of something, +which he vigorously denied. The girl interested me far more than +the Frenchman. Though of the simple, rosy-cheeked type of +German, she had an air of canniness and subtlety that was at +variance with her naive effect. I soon concluded she was far +more clever than most people thought, and Parmalee's whispered +words showed that he thought so too. + +"Something doing in the case of Dutch Elsa, eh?" he said; "she +and Johnny Frenchy have cooked up something between them." + +"Nothing of any importance, I fancy," I returned, for Miss +Lloyd's swoon seemed to me a surrender, and I had little hope now +of any other direction in which to look. + +But I resumed my attention to the coroner's inquiries of Mr. +Randolph. + +In answer to a few formal questions, he stated that he had been +Mr. Crawford's legal adviser for many years, and had entire +charge of all such matters as required legal attention. + +"Did you draw up the late Mr. Crawford's will?" asked the +coroner. + +"Yes; after the death of his wife--about twelve years ago." + +"And what were the terms of that will?" + +"Except for some minor bequests, the bulk of his fortune was +bequeathed to Miss Florence Lloyd." + +"Have you changed that will in any way, or drawn a later one?" + +"No." + +It was by the merest chance that I was looking at Gregory Hall, +as the lawyer gave this answer. + +It required no fine perception to understand the look of relief +and delight that fairly flooded his countenance. To be sure, it +was quickly suppressed, and his former mask of indifference and +preoccupation assumed, but I knew as well as if he had put it +into words, that he had trembled lest Miss Lloyd had been +disinherited before her uncle had met his death in the night. + +This gave me many new thoughts, but before I could formulate +them, I heard the coroner going an with his questions. + +"Did Mr. Crawford visit you last evening?" + +"Yes; he was at my house for perhaps half an hour or more between +eight and nine o'clock." + +"Did he refer to the subject of changing his will?" + +"He did. That was his errand. He distinctly stated his +intention of making a new will, and asked me to come to his +office this morning and draw up the instrument." + +"But as that cannot now be done, the will in favor of Miss Lloyd +still stands?" + +"It does," said Mr. Randolph, "and I am glad of it. Miss Lloyd +has been brought up to look upon this inheritance as her own, and +while I would have used no undue emphasis, I should have tried to +dissuade Mr. Crawford from changing his will." + +"But before we consider the fortune or the will, we must proceed +with our task of bringing to light the murderer, and avenging Mr. +Crawford's death." + +"I trust you will do so, Mr. Coroner, and that speedily. But I +may say, if allowable, that you are on the wrong track when you +allow your suspicions to tend towards Florence Lloyd." + +"As your opinion, Mr. Randolph, of course that sentiment has some +weight, but as a man of law, yourself, you must know that such an +opinion must be proved before it can be really conclusive." + +"Yes, of course," said Mr. Randolph, with a deep sigh. "But let +me beg of you to look further in search of other indications +before you press too hard upon Miss Lloyd with the seeming clues +you now have." + +I liked Mr. Randolph very much. Indeed it seemed to me that the +men of West Sedgwick were of a fine class as to both intellect +and judgment, and though Coroner Monroe was not a brilliant man, +I began to realize that he had some sterling qualities and was +distinctly just and fair in his decisions. + +As for Gregory Hall, he seemed like a man free from a great +anxiety. Though still calm and reserved in appearance, he was +less nervous, and quietly awaited further developments. His +attitude was not hard to understand. Mr. Crawford had objected +to his secretary's engagement to his niece, and now Mr. +Crawford's objections could no longer matter. Again, it was not +surprising that Mr. Hall should be glad to learn that his fiancee +was the heiress she had supposed herself to he. Even though he +were marrying the girl simply for love of her, a large fortune in +addition was by no means to be despised. At any rate, I +concluded that Gregory Hall thought so. + +As often happened, Parmalee read my thoughts. "A +fortune-hunter," he murmured, with a meaning glance at Hall. + +I remembered that Mr. Carstairs, at the inn had said the same +thing, and I thoroughly believed it myself. + +"Has he any means of his own?" + +"No," said Parmalee, "except his salary, which was a good one +from Mr. Crawford, but of course he's lost that now." + +"I don't feel drawn toward him. I suppose one would call him a +gentleman and yet he isn't manly." + +"He's a cad," declared Parmalee; "any fortune hunter is a cad, +and I despise him." + +Although I tried to hold my mind impartially open regarding Mr. +Hall, I was conscious of an inclination to despise him myself. +But I was also honest enough to realize that my principal reason +for despising him was because he had won the hand of Florence +Lloyd. + +I heard Coroner Monroe draw a long sigh. + +Clearly, the man was becoming more and more apprehensive, and +really dreaded to go on with the proceedings, because he was +fearful of what might be disclosed thereby. + +The gold bag still lay on the table before him; the yellow rose +petals were not yet satisfactorily accounted for; Miss Lloyd's +agitation and sudden loss of consciousness, though not surprising +in the circumstances, were a point in her disfavor. And now the +revelation that Mr. Crawford was actually on the point of +disinheriting his niece made it impossible to ignore the obvious +connection between that fact and the event of the night. + +But no one had put the thought into words, and none seemed +inclined to. + +Mechanically, Mr. Monroe called the next witness on his list, and +Mrs. Pierce answered. + +For some reason she chose to stand during her interview, and as +she rose, I realized that she was a prim little personage, but of +such a decided nature that she might have been stigmatized by the +term stubborn. I had seen such women before; of a certain soft, +outward effect, apparently pliable and amenable, but in reality, +deep, shrewd and clever. + +And yet she was not strong, for the situation in which she found +herself made her trembling and unstrung. + +When asked by the coroner to tell her own story of the events of +the evening before, she begged that he would question her +instead. + +Desirous of making it as easy for her as possible, Mr. Monroe +acceded to her wishes, and put his questions in a kindly and +conversational tone. + +"You were at dinner last night, with Miss Lloyd and Mr. Crawford?" + +"Yes," was the almost inaudible reply, and Mrs. Pierce seemed +about to break down at the sad recollection. + +"You heard the argument between Mr. Crawford and his niece at the +dinner table?" + +"Yes." + +"This resulted in high words on both sides?" + +"Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by high words. Mr. +Crawford rarely lost his temper and Florence never." + +"What then did Mr. Crawford say in regard to disinheriting Miss +Lloyd?" + +"Mr. Crawford said clearly, but without recourse to what may be +called high words, that unless Florence would consent to break +her engagement he would cut her off with a shilling." + +"Did he use that expression?" + +"He did at first, when he was speaking more lightly; then when +Florence refused to do as he wished he said he would go that very +evening to Mr. Randolph's and have a new will made which should +disinherit Florence, except for a small annuity." + +"And what did Miss Lloyd reply to this threat?" asked the +coroner. + +"She said," replied Mrs. Pierce, in her plaintive tones, "that +her uncle might do as he chose about that; but she would never +give up Mr. Hall." + +At this moment Gregory Hall looked more manly than I had yet seen +him. + +Though he modestly dropped his eyes at this tacit tribute to his +worthiness, yet he squared his shoulders, and showed a +justifiable pride in the love thus evinced for him. + +"Was the subject discussed further?" pursued the coroner. + +"No; nothing more was said about it after that." + +"Will the making of a new will by Mr. Crawfard affect yourself in +any way, Mrs. Pierce?" + +"No," she replied, "Mr. Crawford left me a small bequest in his +earlier will and I had reason to think he would do the same in a +later will, even though he changed his intentions regarding +Florence." + +"Miss Lloyd thoroughly believed that he intended to carry out his +threat last evening?" + +"She didn't say so to me, but Mr. Crawford spoke so decidedly on +the matter, that I think both she and I believed he was really +going to carry out his threat at last." + +"When Mr. Crawford left the house, did you and Miss Lloyd know +where he was going?" + +"We knew no more than he had said at the table. He said nothing +when he went away." + +"How did you and Miss Lloyd spend the remainder of the evening?" + +"It was but a short evening. We sat in the music-room for a +time, but at about ten o'clock we both went up to our rooms." + +"Had Mr. Crawford returned then?" + +"Yes, he came in perhaps an hour earlier. We heard him come in +at the front door, and go at once to his office." + +"You did not see him, or speak to him?" + +"We did not. He had a caller during the evening. It was Mr. +Porter, I have since learned." + +"Did Miss Lloyd express no interest as to whether he had changed +his will or not?" + +"Miss Lloyd didn't mention the will, or her engagement, to me at +all. We talked entirely of other matters." + +"Was Miss Lloyd in her usual mood or spirits?" + +"She seemed a little quiet, but not at all what you might call +worried." + +"Was not this strange when she was fully expecting to be deprived +of her entire fortune?" + +"It was not strange for Miss Lloyd. She rarely talks of her own +affairs. We spent an evening similar in all respects to our +usual evening when we do not have guests." + +"And you both went upstairs at ten. Was that unusually early for +you?" + +"Well, unless we have guests, we often go at ten or half-past +ten." + +"And did you see Miss Lloyd again that night?" + +"Yes; about half an hour later, I went to her room for a book I +wanted." + +"Miss Lloyd had not retired?" + +"No; she asked me to sit down for awhile and chat." + +"Did you do so?" + +"Only for a few moments. I was interested in the book I had come +for, and I wanted to take it away to my own room to read." + +"And Miss Lloyd, then, did not seem dispirited or in any way in +an unusual mood?" + +"Not that I noticed. I wasn't quizzing her or looking into her +eyes to see what her thoughts were, for it didn't occur to me to +do so. I knew her uncle had dealt her a severe blow, but as she +didn't open the subject, of course I couldn't discuss it with +her. But I did think perhaps she wanted to be by herself to +consider the matter, and that was one reason why I didn't stay +and chat as she had asked me to." + +"Perhaps she really wanted to discuss the matter with you." + +"Perhaps she did; but in that case she should have said so. +Florence knows well enough that I am always ready to discuss or +sympathize with her in any matter, but I never obtrude my +opinions. So as she said nothing to lead me to think she wanted +to talk to me especially, I said good-night to her." + + + + +VIII + +FURTHER INQUIRY + + +"Did you happen to notice, Mrs. Pierce, whether Miss Lloyd was +wearing a yellow rose when you saw her in her room?" + +Mrs. Pierce hesitated. She looked decidedly embarrassed, and +seemed disinclined to answer. But she might have known that to +hesitate and show embarrassment was almost equivalent to an +affirmative answer to the coroner's question. At last she +replied + +"I don't know; I didn't notice." + +This might have been a true statement, but I think no one in the +room believed it. The coroner tried again. + +"Try to think, Mrs. Pierce. It is important that we should know +if Miss Lloyd was wearing a yellow rose." + +"Yes," flared out Mrs. Pierce angrily, "so that you can prove she +went down to her uncle's office later and dropped a piece of her +rose there! But I tell you I don't remember whether she was +wearing a rose or not, and it wouldn't matter if she had on forty +roses! If Florence Lloyd says she didn't go down-stairs, she +didn't." + +"I think we all believe in Miss Lloyd's veracity," said Mr. +Monroe, "but it is necessary to discover where those rose petals +in the library came from. You saw the flowers in her room, Mrs. +Pierce?" + +"Yes, I believe I did. But I paid no attention to them, as +Florence nearly always has flowers in her room." + +"Would you have heard Miss Lloyd if she had gone down-stairs +after you left her?" + +"I don't know," said Mrs. Pierce, doubtfully. + +"Is your room next to hers?" + +"No, not next." + +"Is it on the same corridor?" + +"No." + +"Around a corner?" + +"Yes." + +"And at some distance?" + +"Yes." Mrs. Pierce's answers became more hesitating as she saw +the drift of Mr. Monroe's questions. Clearly, she was trying to +shield Florence, if necessary, at the expense of actual +truthfulness. + +"Then," went on Mr. Monroe, inexorably, "I understand you to say +that you think you would have heard Miss Lloyd, had she gone +down-stairs, although your room is at a distance and around a +corner and the hall and stairs are thickly carpeted. Unless you +were listening especially, Mrs. Pierce, I think you would +scarcely have heard her descend." + +"Well, as she didn't go down, of course I didn't hear her," +snapped Mrs. Pierce, with the feminine way of settling an +argument by an unprovable statement. + +Mr. Monroe began on another tack. + +"When you went to Miss Lloyd's room," he said, "was the maid, +Elsa, there?" + +"Miss Lloyd had just dismissed her for the night." + +"What was Miss Lloyd doing when you went to her room?" + +"She was looking over some gowns that she proposed sending to the +cleaner's." + +The coroner fairly jumped. He remembered the newspaper clipping +of a cleaner's advertisement, which was even now in the gold bag +before him. Though all the jurors had seen it, it had not been +referred to in the presence of the women. + +Recovering himself at once, he said quietly "Was not that rather +work for Miss Lloyd's maid?" + +"Oh, Elsa would pack and send them, of course," said Mrs. Pierce +carelessly. "Miss Lloyd was merely deciding which ones needed +cleaning." + +"Do you know where they were to be sent?" + +Mrs. Pierce looked a little surprised at this question. + +"Miss Lloyd always sends her things to Carter & Brown's," she +said. + +Now, Carter & Brown was the firm name on the advertisement, and +it was evident at once that the coroner considered this a +damaging admission. + +He sat looking greatly troubled, but before he spoke again, Mr. +Parmalee made an observation that decidedly raised that young man +in my estimation. + +"Well," he said, "that's pretty good proof that the gold bag +doesn't belong to Miss Lloyd." + +"How so?" asked the coroner, who had thought quite the contrary. + +"Why, if Miss Lloyd always sends her goods to be cleaned to +Carter & Brown, why would she need to cut their address from a +newspaper and save it?" + +At first I thought the young man's deduction distinctly clever, +but on second thought I wasn't so sure. Miss Lloyd might have +wanted that address for a dozen good reasons. To my mind, it +proved neither her ownership of the gold bag, nor the contrary. + +In fact, I thought the most important indication that the bag +might be hers lay in the story Elsa told about the cousin who +sailed to Germany. Somehow that sounded untrue to me, but I was +more than willing to believe it if I could. + +I longed for Fleming Stone, who, I felt sure, could learn from +the bag and its contents the whole truth about the crime and the +criminal. + +But I had been called to take charge of the case, and my pride +forbade me to call on any one for help. + +I had scorned deductions from inanimate objects, but I resolved +to study that bag again, and study it more minutely. Perhaps +there were some threads or shreds caught in its meshes that might +point to its owner. I remembered a detective story I read once, +in which the whole discovery of the criminal depended on +identifying a few dark blue woollen threads which were found in a +small pool of candle grease on a veranda roof. As it turned out, +they were from the trouser knee of a man who had knelt there to +open a window. The patent absurdity of leaving threads from +one's trouser knee, amused me very much, but the accommodating +criminals in fiction almost always leave threads or shreds behind +them. And surely a gold-mesh bag, with its thousands of links +would be a fine trap to catch some threads of evidence, however +minute they might be. + +Furthermore I decided to probe further into that yellow rose +business. I was not at all sure that those petals I found on the +floor had anything to do with Miss Lloyd's roses, but it must be +a question possible of settlement, if I went about it in the +right way. At any rate, though I had definite work ahead of me, +my duty just now was to listen to the forthcoming evidence, +though I could not help thinking I could have put questions more +to the point than Mr. Monroe did. + +Of course the coroner's inquest was not formally conducted as a +trial by jury would be, and so any one spoke, if he chose, and +the coroner seemed really glad when suggestions were offered him. + +At this point Philip Crawford rose. + +"It is impossible," he said, "not to see whither these questions +are tending. But you are on the wrong tack, Mr. Coroner. No +matter how evidence may seem to point toward Florence Lloyd's +association with this crime, it is only seeming. That gold bag +might have been hers and it might not. But if she says it isn't, +why, then it isn't! Notwithstanding the state of affairs between +my brother and his niece, there is not the shadow of a +possibility that the young woman is implicated in the slightest +degree, and the sooner you leave her name out of consideration, +and turn your search into other channels, the sooner you will +find the real criminal." + +It was not so much the words of Philip Crawford, as the sincere +way in which they were spoken, that impressed me. Surely he was +right; surely this beautiful girl was neither principal nor +accessory in the awful crime which, by a strange coincidence, +gave to her her fortune and her lover. + +"Mr. Crawford's right," said Lemuel Porter. "If this jury allows +itself to be misled by a gold purse and two petals of a yellow +rose, we are unworthy to sit on this case. Why, Mr. Coroner, the +long French windows in the office were open, or, at least, +unfastened all through the night. We have that from the butler's +testimony. He didn't lock them last night; they were found +unlocked this morning. Therefore, I hold that an intruder, +either man or woman, may have come in during the night, +accomplished the fatal deed, and departed without any one being +the wiser. That this intruder was a woman, is evidenced by the +bag she left behind her. For, as Mr. Crawford has said, if Miss +Lloyd denies the ownership of that bag, it is not hers." + +After all, these declarations were proof, of a sort. If Mr. +Porter and Mr. Philip Crawford, who had known Florence Lloyd for +years, spoke thus positively of her innocence, it could not be +doubted. + +And then the voice of Parmalee again sounded in my ears. + +"Of course Mr. Porter and Mr. Crawford would stand up for Miss +Lloyd; it would be strange if they didn't. And of course, Mrs. +Pierce will do all she can to divert suspicion. But the +evidences are against her." + +"They only seem to be," I corrected. "Until we prove the gold +bag and the yellow rose to be hers; there is no evidence against +her at all." + +"She also had motive and opportunity. Those two points are of +quite as much importance as evidence." + +"She had motive and opportunity," I agreed, "but they were not +exclusive. As Mr. Porter pointed out, the open windows gave +opportunity that was world wide; and as to motive, how are we to +know who had or who hadn't it." + +"You're right, I suppose. Perhaps I am too positive of Miss +Lloyd's implication in the matter, but I'm quite willing to be +convinced to the contrary." + +The remarks of Mr. Parmalee were of course not audible to any one +save myself. But the speeches which had been made by Mr. +Crawford and Mr. Porter, and which, strange to say, amounted to +an arraignment and a vindication almost in the same breath, had a +decided effect upon the assembly. + +Mrs. Pierce began to weep silently. Gregory Hall looked +startled, as if the mere idea of Miss Lloyd's implication was a +new thought to him. Lawyer Randolph looked considerably +disturbed, and I at once suspected that his legal mind would not +allow him to place too much dependence on the statements of the +girl's sympathetic friends. + +Mr. Hamilton, another of the jurors whom I liked, seemed to be +thoughtfully weighing the evidence. He was not so well +acquainted with Miss Lloyd as the two men who had just spoken in +her behalf, and he made a remark somewhat diffidently. + +"I agree," he said, "with the sentiments just expressed; but I +also think that we should endeavor to find some further clues or +evidence. Had Mr. Crawford any enemies who would come at night +to kill him? Or are there any valuables missing? Could robbery +have been the motive?" + +"It does not seem so," replied the coroner. "Nothing is known to +be missing. Mr. Crawford's watch and pocket money were not +disturbed." + +"The absence of the weapon is a strange factor in the case," put +in Mr. Orville, apparently desirous of having his voice heard as +well as those of the other jurors. + +"Yes," agreed Mr. Monroe; "and yet it is not strange that the +criminal carried away with him what might have been a proof of +his identity." + +"Does Miss Lloyd own a pistol?" blurted out Mr. Parmalee. + +Gregory Hall gave him an indignant look, but Coroner Monroe +seemed rather glad to have the question raised--probably so that +it could be settle at once in the negative. + +And it was. + +"No," replied Mrs. Pierce, when the query was put to her. "Both +Florence and I are desperately afraid of firearms. We wouldn't +dream of owning a pistol--either of us." + +Of course, this was significant, but in no way decisive. +Granting that Miss Lloyd could have been the criminal, it would +have been possible for her secretly to procure a revolver, and +secretly to dispose of it afterward. Then, too, a small revolver +had been used. To be sure, this did not necessarily imply that a +woman had used it, but, taken in connection with the bag and the +rose petals, it gave food for thought. + +But the coroner seemed to think Mrs. Pierce's assertions greatly +in Miss Lloyd's favor, and, being at the end of his list of +witnesses, he inquired if any one else in the room knew of +anything that could throw light on the matter. + +No one responded to this invitation, and the coroner then +directed the jury to retire to find a verdict. The six men +passed into another room, and I think no one who awaited their +return apprehended any other result than the somewhat +unsatisfactory one of "person or persons unknown." + +And this was what the foreman announced when the jury returned +after their short collocation. + +Then, as a jury, they were dismissed, but from that moment the +mystery of Joseph Crawford's death became the absorbing thought +of all West Sedgwick. + +"The murderer of my brother shall be found and brought to +justice!" declared Philip Crawford, and all present seemed to +echo his vow. + +Then and there, Mr. Crawford retained Lawyer Randolph to help him +in running down the villain, and, turning to me, asked to engage +my services also. + +To this, I readily agreed, for I greatly desired to go on with +the matter, and cared little whether I worked for an individual +or for the State. + +Of course Mr. Crawford's determination to find the murderer +proved anew his conviction that Florence Lloyd was above all +suspicion, but in the face of certain details of the evidence so +far, I could not feel so absolutely certain of this. + +However, it was my business to follow up every clue, or apparent +clue, and every bit of evidence, and this I made up my mind to +do, regardless of consequences. + +I confess it was difficult for me to feel regardless of +consequences, for I had a haunting fear that the future was going +to look dark for Florence Lloyd. And if it should be proved that +she was in any way responsible for or accessory to this crime, I +knew I should wish I had had nothing to do with discovering that +fact. But back of this was an undefined but insistent conviction +that the girl was innocent, and that I could prove it. This may +have been an inordinate faith in my own powers, or it may have +been a hope born of my admiration for the young woman herself. +For there is no doubt, that for the first time in my life I was +taking a serious interest in a woman's personality. Heretofore I +had been a general admirer of womankind, and I had naturally +treated them all with chivalry and respect. But now I had met +one whom I desired to treat in a far tenderer way, and to my +chagrin I realized that I had no right to entertain such thoughts +toward a girl already betrothed. + +So I concluded to try my best to leave Florence Lloyd's +personality out of the question, to leave my feelings toward her +out of the question, and to devote my energies to real work on +the case and prove by intelligent effort that I could learn facts +from evidence without resorting to the microscopic methods of +Fleming Stone. I purposely ignored the fact that I would have +been only too glad to use these methods had I the power to do so! + + + + +IX + +THE TWELFTH ROSE + + +For the next day or two the Crawford house presented the +appearance usual in any home during the days immediately +preceding a funeral. + +By tacit consent, all reference to the violence of Mr. Crawford's +death was avoided, and a rigorous formality was the keynote of +all the ceremonies. The servants were garbed in correct +mourning, the ladies of the house refused to see anybody, and all +personal callers were met by Philip Crawford or his wife, while +business acquaintances were received by Gregory Hall. + +As private secretary, of course Mr. Hall was in full charge of +Mr. Crawford's papers and personal effects. But, in addition to +this, as the prospective husband of the heiress, he was +practically the head of the house. + +He showed no elation or ostentation at this state of affairs, but +carried himself with an air of quiet dignity, tinged with a +suggestion of sadness, which, if merely conventional, seemed none +the less sincere. + +I soon learned that the whole social atmosphere of West Sedgwick +was one of extreme formality, and everything was done in +accordance with the most approved conventions. Therefore, I +found I could get no chance for a personal conversation with Miss +Lloyd until after the funeral. + +I had, however, more or less talk with Gregory Hall, and as I +became acquainted with him, I liked him less. + +He was of a cold and calculating disposition, and when we were +alone, he did not hesitate to gloat openly over his bright +prospects. + +"Terrible thing, to be put out of existence like that," he said, +as we sat in Mr. Crawford's office, looking over some papers; +"but it solved a big problem for Florence and me. However, we'll +be married as soon as we decently can, and then we'll go abroad, +and forget the tragic part of it all." + +"I suppose you haven't a glimmer of a suspicion as to who did +it," I ventured. + +"No, I haven't. Not the faintest notion. But I wish you could +find out. Of course, nobody holds up that bag business as +against Florence, but--it's uncomfortable all the same. I wish +I'd been here that night. I'm 'most sure I'd have heard a shot, +or something." + +"Where were you?" I said, in a careless tone. + +Hall drew himself up stiffly. "Excuse me," he said. "I declined +to answer that question before. Since I was not in West +Sedgwick, it can matter to no one where I was." + +"Oh, that's all right," I returned affably, for I had no desire +to get his ill will. "But of course we detectives have to ask +questions. By the way, where did you buy Miss Lloyd's yellow +roses?" + +"See here," said Gregory Hall, with a petulant expression, "I +don't want to be questioned. I'm not on the witness-stand, and, +as I've told you, I'm uncomfortable already about these so-called +`clues' that seem to implicate Miss Lloyd. So, if you please, +I'll say nothing." + +"All right," I responded, "just as you like." + +I went away from the house, thinking how foolish people could be. +I could easily discover where he bought the roses, as there were +only three florists' shops in West Sedgwick and I resolved to go +at once to hunt up the florist who sold them. + +Assuming he would naturally go to the shop nearest the railroad +station, and which was also on the way from the Crawford house, I +went there first, and found my assumption correct. + +The florist was more than willing to talk on the subject. + +"Yes, sir," he said; "I sold those roses to Mr. Hall--sold 'em +to him myself. He wanted something extra nice, and I had just a +dozen of those big yellow beauties. No, I don't raise my own +flowers. I get 'em from the city. And so I had just that dozen, +and I sent 'em right up. Well, there was some delay, for two of +my boys were out to supper, and I waited for one to get back." + +"And you had no other roses just like these in stock?" + +"No, sir. Hadn't had for a week or more. Haven't any now. May +not get any more at all. They're a scarce sort, at best, and +specially so this year." + +"And you sent Miss Lloyd the whole dozen?" + +"Yes, sir; twelve. I like to put in an extra one or two when I +can, but that time I couldn't. There wasn't another rose like +them short of New York City." + +I thanked the florist, and, guessing that he was not above it, I +gave him a more material token of my gratitude for his +information, and then walked slowly back to my room at the inn. + +Since there were no other roses of that sort in West Sedgwick +that evening, it seemed to me as if Florence Lloyd must have gone +down to her uncle's office after having pinned the blossom on her +bodice. The only other possibility was that some intruder had +entered by way of the French window wearing or carrying a similar +flower, and that this intruder had come from New York, or at +least from some place other than West Sedgwick. It was too +absurd. Murderers don't go about decked with flowers, and yet at +midnight a man in evening dress was not impossible, and evening +dress might easily imply a boutonniere. + +Well, this well-dressed man I had conjured up in my mind must +have come from out of town, or else whence the flower, after all? + +And then I bethought myself of that late newspaper. An extra, +printed probably as late as eleven o'clock at night, must have +been brought out to West Sedgwick by a traveller on some late +train. Why not Gregory Hall, himself? I let my imagination run +riot for a minute. Mr. Hall refused to say where he was on the +night of the murder. Why not assume that he had come out from +New York, in evening dress, at or about midnight? This would +account for the newspaper and the yellow rose petals, for, if he +bought a boutonniere in the city, how probable he would select +the same flower he had just sent his fiancee. + +I rather fancied the idea of Gregory Hall as the criminal. He +had the same motive as Miss Lloyd. He knew of her uncle's +objection to their union, and his threat of disinheritance. How +easy for him to come out late from New York, on a night when he +was not expected, and remove forever the obstacle to his future +happiness! + +I drew myself up with a start. This was not detective work. +This was mere idle speculation. I must shake it off, and set +about collecting some real evidence. + +But the thought still clung to me; mere speculation it might be, +but it was founded on the same facts that already threw suspicion +on Florence Lloyd. With the exception of the gold bag--and that +she disclaimed--such evidence as I knew of pointed toward Mr. +Hall as well as toward Miss Lloyd. + +However at present I was on the trail of those roses, and I +determined to follow that trail to a definite end. I went back +to the Crawford house and as I did not like to ask for Miss +Lloyd, I asked for Mrs. Pierce. + +She came down to the drawing room, and greeted me rather more +cordially than I had dared to hope. I had a feeling that both +ladies resented my presence there, for so many women have a +prejudice against detectives. + +But though nervous and agitated, Mrs. Pierce spoke to me kindly. + +"Did you want to see me for anything in particular, Mr. +Burroughs?" she asked. + +"Yes, I do, Mrs. Pierce," I replied; "I may as well tell you +frankly that I want to find out all I can about those yellow +roses." + +"Oh, those roses! Shall I never hear the last of them? I assure +you, Mr. Burroughs, they're of no importance whatever." + +"That is not for you to decide," I said quietly, and I began to +see that perhaps a dictatorial attitude might be the best way to +manage this lady. "Are the rest of those flowers still in Miss +Lloyd's room? If so I wish to see them." + +"I don't know whether they are or not; but I will find out, and +if so I'll bring them down." + +"No," I said, "I will go with you to see them." + +"But Florence may be in her room." + +"So much the better. She can tell me anything I wish to know." + +"Oh, please don't interview her! I'm sure she wouldn't want to +talk with you." + +"Very well, then ask her to vacate the room, and I will go there +with you now." + +Mrs. Pierce went away, and I began to wonder if I had gone too +far or had overstepped my authority. But it was surely my duty +to learn all I could about Florence Lloyd, and what so promising +of suggestions as her own room? + +Mrs. Pierce returned in a few moments, and affably enough she +asked me to accompany her to Miss Lloyd's room. + +I did so, and after entering devoted my whole attention to the +bunch of yellow roses, which in a glass vase stood on the window +seat. Although somewhat wilted, they were still beautiful, and +without the slightest doubt were the kind of rose from which the +two tell-tale petals had fallen. + +Acting upon a sudden thought, I counted them. There were nine, +each one seemingly with its full complement of petals, though of +this I could not be perfectly certain. + +"Now, Mrs.--Pierce," I said, turning to her with an air of +authority which was becoming difficult to maintain, "where are +the roses which Miss Lloyd admits having pinned to her gown?" + +"Mercy! I don't know," exclaimed Mrs. Pierce, looking bewildered. +"I suppose she threw them away." + +"I suppose she did," I returned; "would she not be likely to +throw them in the waste basket?" + +"She might," returned Mrs. Pierce, turning toward an ornate +affair of wicker-work and pink ribbons. + +Sure enough, in the basket, among a few scraps of paper, were two +exceedingly withered yellow roses. I picked them out and +examined them, but in their present state it was impossible to +tell whether they had lost any petals or not, so I threw them +back in the basket. + +Mrs. Pierce seemed to care nothing for evidence or deduction in +the matter, but began to lament the carelessness of the +chambermaid who had not emptied the waste basket the day before. + +But I secretly blessed the delinquent servant, and began +pondering on this new development of the rose question. The nine +roses in the vase and the two in the basket made but eleven, and +the florist had told me that he had sent a dozen. Where was the +twelfth? + +The thought occurred to me that Miss Lloyd might have put away +one as a sentimental souvenir, but to my mind she did not seem +the kind of a girl to do that. I knew my reasoning was absurd, +for what man can predicate what a woman will do? but at the same +time I could not seem to imagine the statuesque, imperial Miss +Lloyd tenderly preserving a rose that her lover had given her. + +But might not Gregory Hall have taken one of the dozen for +himself before sending the rest? This was merely surmise, but it +was a possibility, and at any rate the twelfth rose was not in +Miss Lloyd's room. + +Therefore the twelfth rose was a factor to be reckoned with, a +bit of evidence to be found; and I determined to find it. + +I asked Mrs. Pierce to arrange for me an interview with Miss +Lloyd, but the elder lady seemed doubtful. + +"I'm quite sure she won't see you," she said, "for she has +declared she will see no one until after the funeral. But if you +want me to ask her anything for you, I will do so." + +"Very well," I said, surprised at her willingness; "please ask +Miss Lloyd if she knows what became of the twelfth yellow rose; +and beg her to appreciate the fact that it is a vital point in +the case." + +Mrs. Pierce agreed to do this, and as I went down the stairs she +promised to join me in the library a few moments later. + +She kept her promise, and I waited eagerly her report. + +"Miss Lloyd bids me tell you," she said, "that she knows nothing +of what you call the twelfth rose. She did not count the roses, +she merely took two of them to pin on her dress, and when she +retired, she carelessly threw those two in the waste basket. She +thinks it probable there were only eleven in the box when it +arrived. But at any rate she knows nothing more of the matter." + +I thanked Mrs. Pierce for her courtesy and patience, and feeling +that I now had a real problem to consider, I started back to the +inn. + +It could not be that this rose matter was of no importance. For +the florist had assured me he had sold exactly twelve flowers to +Mr. Gregory Hall, and of these, I could account for only eleven. +The twelfth rose must have been separated from the others, either +by Mr. Hall, at the time of purchase, or by some one else later. +If the petals found on the floor fell from that twelfth rose, and +if Florence Lloyd spoke the truth when she declared she knew +nothing of it, then she was free from suspicion in that +direction. + +But until I could make some further effort to find out about the +missing rose I concluded to say nothing of it to anybody. I was +not bound to tell Parmalee any points I might discover, for +though colleagues, we were working independently of each other. + +But as I was anxious to gather any side lights possible, I +determined to go for a short conference with the district +attorney, in whose hands the case had been put after the +coroner's inquest. + +He was a man named Goodrich, a quiet mannered, untalkative +person, and as might be expected he had made little or no +progress as yet. + +He said nothing could be done until after the funeral and the +reading of the will, which ceremonies would occur the next +afternoon. + +I talked but little to Mr. Goodrich, yet I soon discovered that +he strongly suspected Miss Lloyd of the crime, either as +principal or accessory. + +"But I can't believe it," I objected. "A girl, delicately +brought up, in refined and luxurious surroundings, does not +deliberately commit an atrocious crime." + +"A woman thwarted in her love affair will do almost anything," +declared Mr. Goodrich. "I have had more experience than you, my +boy, and I advise you not to bank too much on the refined and +luxurious surroundings. Sometimes such things foster crime +instead of preventing it. But the truth will come out, and soon, +I think. The evidence that seems to point to Miss Lloyd can be +easily proved or disproved, once we get at the work in earnest. +That coroner's jury was made up of men who were friends and +neighbors of Mr. Crawford. They were so prejudiced by sympathy +for Miss Lloyd, and indignation at the unknown criminal, that +they couldn't give unbiased judgment. But we will yet see +justice done. If Miss Lloyd is innocent, we can prove it. But +remember the provocation she was under. Remember the opportunity +she had, to visit her uncle alone in his office, after every one +else in the house was asleep. Remember that she had a motive--a +strong motive--and no one else had." + +"Except Mr. Gregory Hall," I said meaningly. + +"Yes; I grant he had the same motive. But he is known to have +left town at six that evening, and did not return until nearly +noon the next day. That lets him out." + +"Yes, unless he came back at midnight, and then went back to the +city again." + +"Nonsense!" said Mr. Goodrich. "That's fanciful. Why, the +latest train--the theatre train, as we call it--gets in at one +o'clock, and it's always full of our society people returning +from gayeties in New York. He would have been seen had he come +on that train, and there is no later one." + +I didn't stay to discuss the matter further. Indeed, Mr. +Goodrich had made me feel that my theories were fanciful. + +But whatever my theories might be there were still facts to be +investigated. + +Remembering my determination to examine that gold bag more +thoroughly I asked Mr. Goodrich to let me see it, for of course, +as district attorney, it was now in his possession. + +He gave it to me with an approving nod. "That's the way to +work," he said. "That bag is your evidence. Now from that, you +detectives must go ahead and learn the truth." + +"Whose bag is it?" I said, with the intention of drawing him out. + +"It's Miss Lloyd's bag," he said gravely. "Any woman in the +world would deny its ownership, in the existing circumstances, +and I am not surprised that she did so. Nor do I blame her for +doing so. Self preservation is a mighty strong impulse in the +human heart, and we've all got a right to obey it." + +As I took the gold bag from his hand, I didn't in the least +believe that Florence Lloyd was the owner of it, and I resolved +anew to prove this to the satisfaction of everybody concerned. + +Mr. Goodrich turned away and busied himself about other matters, +and I devoted myself to deep study. + +The contents of the bag proved as blank and unsuggestive as ever. +The most exhaustive examination of its chain, its clasp and its +thousands of links gave me not the tiniest thread or shred of any +sort. + +But as I poked and pried around in its lining I found a card, +which had slipped between the main lining and an inside pocket. + +I drew it out as carefully as I could, and it proved to be a +small plain visiting card bearing the engraved name, "Mrs. +Egerton Purvis." + +I sat staring at it, and then furtively glanced at Mr. Goodrich. +He was not observing me, and I instinctively felt that I did not +wish him to know of the card until I myself had given the matter +further thought. + +I returned the card to its hiding place and returned the bag to +Mr. Goodrich, after which I went away. + +I had not copied the name, for it was indelibly photographed upon +my brain. As I walked along the street I tried to construct the +personality of Mrs. Egerton Purvis from her card. But I was able +to make no rational deductions, except that the name sounded +aristocratic, and was quite in keeping with the general effect of +the bag and its contents. + +To be sure I might have deduced that she was a lady of average +height and size, because she wore a number six glove; that she +was careful of her personal appearance, because she possessed a +vanity case; that she was of tidy habits, because she evidently +expected to send her gowns to be cleaned. But all these things +seemed to me puerile and even ridiculous, as such characteristics +would apply to thousands of woman all over the country. + +Instead of this, I went straight to the telegraph office and +wired to headquarters in a cipher code. I instructed them to +learn the identity and whereabouts of Mrs. Egerton Purvis, and +advise me as soon as possible. + +Then I returned to the Sedgwick Arms, feeling decidedly well +satisfied with my morning's work, and content to wait until after +Mr. Crawford's funeral to do any further real work in the matter. + + + + +X + +THE WILL + + +I went to the Crawford house on the day of the funeral; but as I +reached there somewhat earlier than the hour appointed, I went +into the office with the idea of looking about for further clues. + +In the office I found Gregory Hall; looking decidedly disturbed. + +"I can't find Mr. Crawford's will," he said, as he successively +looked through one drawer after another. + +"What!" I responded. "Hasn't that been located already?" + +"No; it's this way: I didn't see it here in this office, or in +the New York office, so I assumed Mr. Randolph had it in his +possession. But it seems he thought it was here, all the time. +Only this morning we discovered our mutual error, and Mr. +Randolph concluded it must be in Mr. Crawford's safety deposit +box at the bank in New York. So Mr. Philip Crawford hurried +through his administration papers--he is to be executor of the +estate--and went in to get it from the bank. But he has just +returned with the word that it wasn't there. So we've no idea +where it is." + +"Oh, well," said I, "since he hadn't yet made the new will he had +in mind, everything belongs to Miss Lloyd." + +"That's just the point," said Hall, his face taking on a +despairing look. "If we don't find that will, she gets nothing!" + +"How's that?" I said. + +"Why, she's really not related to the Crawfords. She's a niece +of Joseph Crawford's wife. So in the absence of a will his +property will all go to his brother Philip, who is his legal +heir." + +"Oho!" I exclaimed. "This is a new development. But the will +will turn up." + +"Oh, yes, I'm sure of it," returned Hall, but his anxious face +showed anything but confidence in his own words. + +"But," I went on, "didn't Philip Crawford object to his brother's +giving all his fortune to Miss Lloyd?" + +"It didn't matter if he did. Nobody could move Joseph Crawford's +determination. And I fancy Philip didn't make any great +disturbance about it. Of course, Mr. Joseph had a right to do as +he chose with his own, and the will gave Philip a nice little +sum, any way. Not much, compared to the whole fortune, but, +still, a generous bequest." + +"What does Mr. Randolph say?" + +"He's completely baffled. He doesn't know what to think." + +"Can it have been stolen?" + +"Why, no; who would steal it? I only fear he may have destroyed +it because he expected to make a different one. In that case, +Florence is penniless, save for such bounty as Philip Crawford +chooses to bestow on her." + +I didn't like the tone in which Hall said this. It was +distinctly aggrieved, and gave the impression that Florence +Lloyd, penniless, was of far less importance than Miss Lloyd, the +heiress of her uncle's millions. + +"But he would doubtless provide properly for her," I said. + +"Oh, yes, properly. But she would find herself in a very +different position, dependent on his generosity, from what she +would be as sole heir to her uncle's fortune." + +I looked steadily at the man. Although not well acquainted with +him, I couldn't resist giving expression to my thought. + +"But since you are to marry her," I said, "she need not long be +dependent upon her uncle's charity." + +"Philip Crawford isn't really her uncle, and no one can say what +he will do in the matter." + +Gregory Hall was evidently greatly disturbed at the new situation +brought about by the disappearance of Mr. Crawford's will. But +apparently the main reason for his disturbance was the impending +poverty of his fiancee. There was no doubt that Mr. Carstairs +and others who had called this man a fortune-hunter had judged +him rightly. + +However, without further words on the subject, I waited while +Hall locked the door of the office, and then we went together to +the great drawing-room, where the funeral services were about to +take place. + +I purposely selected a position from which I could see the faces +of the group of people most nearly connected with the dead man. +I had a strange feeling, as I looked at them, that one of them +might be the instrument of the crime which had brought about this +funeral occasion. + +During the services I looked closely and in turn at each face, +but beyond the natural emotions of grief which might be expected, +I could read nothing more. + +The brother, Philip Crawford, the near neighbors, Mr. Porter and +Mr. Hamilton, the lawyer, Mr. Randolph, all sat looking grave and +solemn as they heard the last words spoken above their dead +friend. The ladies of the household, quietly controlling their +emotions, sat near me, and next to Florence Lloyd Gregory Hall +had seated himself. + +All of these people I watched closely, half hoping that some +inadvertent sign might tell me of someone's knowledge of the +secret. But when the clergyman referred to the retribution that +would sooner or later overtake the criminal. I could see an +expression of fear or apprehension on no face save that of +Florence Lloyd. She turned even whiter than before, her pale +lips compressed in a straight line, and her small black gloved +hand softly crept into that of Gregory Hall. The movement was +not generally noticeable, but it seemed to me pathetic above all +things. Whatever her position in the matter, she was surely +appealing to him for help and protection. + +Without directly repulsing her, Hall was far from responsive. He +allowed her hand to rest in his own but gave her no answering +pressure, and looked distinctly relieved when, after a moment, +she withdrew it. + +I saw that Parmalee also had observed this, and I could see that +to him it was an indication of the girl's perturbed spirit. To +me it seemed that it might equally well mean many other things. +For instance it might mean her apprehension for Gregory Hall, +who, I couldn't help thinking was far more likely to be a +wrongdoer than the girl herself. + +With a little sigh I gave up trying to glean much information +from the present opportunity, and contented myself with the +melancholy pleasure it gave me simply to look at the sad sweet +face of the girl who was already enshrined in my heart. + +After the solemn and rather elaborate obsequies were over, a +little assembly gathered in the library to hear the reading of +the will. + +As, until then, no one had known of the disappearance of the +will, except the lawyer and the secretary, it came as a +thunderbolt. + +"I have no explanation to offer," said Mr. Randolph, looking +greatly concerned, but free of all personal responsibility. "Mr. +Crawford always kept the will in his own possession. When he +came to see me, the last evening he was alive, in regard to +making a new will, he did not bring the old one with him. We +arranged to meet in his office the next morning to draw up the +new instrument, when he doubtless expected to destroy the old +one. + +"He may have destroyed it on his return home that evening. I do +not know. But so far it has not been found among his papers in +either of his offices or in the bank. Of course it may appear, +as the search, though thorough, has not yet been exhaustive. We +will, therefore, hold the matter in abeyance a few days, hoping +to find the missing document." + +His hearers were variously affected by this news. Florence Lloyd +was simply dazed. She could not seem to grasp a situation which +so suddenly changed her prospects. For she well knew that in the +event of no will being found, Joseph Crawford's brother would be +his rightful heir, and she would be legally entitled to nothing +at all. + +Philip Crawford sat with an utterly expressionless face. Quite +able to control his emotion, if he felt any, he made no sign that +he welcomed this possibility of a great fortune unexpectedly +coming to him. + +Lemuel Porter, who, with his wife, had remained because of their +close friendship with the family, spoke out rather abruptly + +"Find it! Of course it must be found! It's absurd to think the +man destroyed one will before the other was drawn." + +"I agree with you," said Philip Crawford. + +"Joseph was very methodical in his habits, and, besides, I doubt +if he would really have changed his will. I think he merely +threatened it, to see if Florence persisted in keeping her +engagement." + +This was a generous speech on the part of Philip Crawford. To be +sure, generosity of speech couldn't affect the disposal of the +estate. If no will were found, it must by law go to the brother, +but none the less the hearty, whole-souled way in which he spoke +of Miss Lloyd was greatly to his credit as a man. + +"I think so, too," agreed Mr. Porter. "As you know, I called on +Mr. Joseph Crawford during the--the last evening of his life." + +The speaker paused, and indeed it must have been a sad +remembrance that pictured itself to his mind. + +"Did he then refer to the matter of the will?" asked Mr. +Randolph, in gentle tones. + +"He did. Little was said on the subject, but he told me that +unless Florence consented to his wishes in the matter of her +engagement to Mr. Hall, he would make a new will, leaving her +only a small bequest." + +"In what manner did you respond, Mr. Porter?" + +"I didn't presume to advise him definitely, but I urged him not +to be too hard on the girl, and, at any rate, not to make a new +will until he had thought it over more deliberately." + +"What did he then say?" + +"Nothing of any definite import. He began talking of other +matters, and the will was not again referred to. But I can't +help thinking he had not destroyed it." + +At this, Miss Lloyd seemed about to speak, but, glancing at +Gregory Hall, she gave a little sigh, and remained silent. + +"You know of nothing that can throw any light on the matter of +the will, Mr. Hall?" asked Mr. Randolph. + +"No, sir. Of course this whole situation is very embarrassing +for me. I can only say that I have known for a long time the +terms of Mr. Crawford's existing will; I have known of his +threats of changing it; I have known of his attitude toward my +engagement to his niece. But I never spoke to him on any of +these subjects, nor he to me, though several times I have thought +he was on the point of doing so. I have had access to most of +his private papers, but of two or three small boxes he always +retained the keys. I had no curiosity concerning the contents of +these boxes, but I naturally assumed his will was in one of them. +I have, however, opened these boxes since Mr. Crawford's death, +in company with Mr. Randolph, and we found no will. Nor could we +discover any in the New York office or in the bank. That is all +I know of the matter." + +Gregory Hall's demeanor was dignified and calm, his voice even +and, indeed, cold. He was like a bystander, with no vital +interest in the subject he talked about. + +Knowing, as I did, that his interest was vital, I came to the +conclusion that he was a man of unusual self-control, and an +ability to mask his real feelings completely. Feeling that +nothing more could be learned at present, I left the group in the +library discussing the loss of the will, and went down to the +district attorney's office. + +He was, of course, surprised at my news, and agreed with me that +it gave us new fields for conjecture. + +"Now, we see," he said eagerly, "that the motive for the murder +was the theft of the will." + +"Not necessarily," I replied. "Mr. Crawford may have destroyed +the will before he met his death." + +"But that would leave no motive. No, the will supplies the +motive. Now, you see, this frees Miss Lloyd from suspicion. She +would have no reason to kill her uncle and then destroy or +suppress a will in her own favor." + +"That reasoning also frees Mr. Hall from suspicion," said I, +reverting to my former theories. + +"Yes, it does. We must look for the one who has benefited by the +removal of the will. That, of course, would be the brother, Mr. +Philip Crawford." + +I looked at the attorney a moment, and then burst into laughter. + +"My dear Mr. Goodrich," I said, "don't be absurd! A man would +hardly shoot his own brother, but aside from that, why should +Philip Crawford kill Joseph just at the moment he is about to +make a new will in Philip's favor? Either the destruction of the +old will or the drawing of the new would result in Philip's +falling heir to the fortune. So he would hardly precipitate +matters by a criminal act. And, too, if he had been keen about +the money, he could have urged his brother to disinherit Florence +Lloyd, and Joseph would have willingly done so. He was on the +very point of doing so, any way." + +"That's true," said Mr. Goodrich, looking chagrined but +unconvinced. "However, it frees Miss Lloyd from all doubts, by +removing her motive. As you say, she wouldn't suppress a will in +her favor, and thereby turn the fortune over to Philip. And, as +you also said, this lets Gregory Hall out, too, though I never +suspected him for a moment. But, of course, his interests and +Miss Lloyd's are identical." + +"Wait a moment," I said, for new thoughts were rapidly following +one another through my brain. "Not so fast, Mr. District +Attorney. The disappearance of the will does not remove motive +from the possibility of Miss Lloyd's complicity in this crime-- +or Mr. Hall's either." + +"How so?" + +"Because, if Florence Lloyd thought her uncle was in possession +of that will, her motive was identically the same as if he had +possessed it. Now, she certainly thought he had it, for her +surprise at the news of its loss was as unfeigned as my own. And +of course Hall thought the will was among Mr. Crawford's effects, +for he has been searching constantly since the question was +raised." + +"But I thought that yesterday you were so sure of Miss Lloyd's +innocence," objected Mr. Goodrich. + +"I was," I said slowly, "and I think I am still. But in the +light of absolute evidence I am only declaring that the +non-appearance of that will in no way interferes with the motive +Miss Lloyd must have had if she is in any way guilty. She knew, +or thought she knew, that the will was there, in her favor. She +knew her uncle intended to revoke it and make another in her +disfavor. I do not accuse her--I'm not sure I suspect her--I +only say she had motive and opportunity." + +As I walked away from Mr. Goodrich's office, those words rang in +my mind, motive and opportunity. Truly they applied to Mr. Hall +as well as to Miss Lloyd, although of course it would mean Hall's +coming out from the city and returning during the night. And +though this might have been a difficult thing to do secretly, it +was by no means impossible. He might not have come all the way +to West Sedgwick Station, but might have dropped off the train +earlier and taken the trolley. The trolley! that thought +reminded me of the transfer I had picked up on the grass plot +near the office veranda. Was it possible that slip of paper was +a clue, and pointing toward Hall? + +Without definite hope of seeing Gregory Hall, but hopeful of +learning something about him, I strolled back to the Crawford +house. I went directly to the office, and by good luck found +Gregory Hall there alone. He was still searching among the +papers of Mr. Crawford's desk. + +"Ah, Mr. Burroughs," he said, as I entered, "I'm glad to see you. +If detectives detect, you have a fine chance here to do a bit of +good work. I wouldn't mind offering you an honorarium myself, if +you could unearth the will that has so mysteriously disappeared." + +Hall's whole manner had changed. He had laid aside entirely the +grave demeanor which he had shown at the funeral, and was again +the alert business man. He was more than this. He was eager,-- +offensively so,--in his search for the will. It needed no +detective instinct to see that the fortune of Joseph Crawford and +its bestowment were matters of vital interest to him. + +But though his personal feelings on the subject might be +distasteful to me, it was certainly part of my duty to aid in the +search, and so with him I looked through the various drawers and +filing cabinets. The papers representing or connected with the +financial interests of the late millionaire were neatly filed and +labelled; but in some parts of the desk we found the hodge-podge +of personal odds and ends which accumulates with nearly +everybody. + +Hall seemed little interested in those, but to my mind they +showed a possibility of casting some light on Mr. Crawford's +personal affairs. + +But among old letters, photographs, programs, newspaper +clippings, and such things, there was nothing that seemed of the +slightest interest, until at last I chanced upon a photograph +that arrested my attention. + +"Do you know who this is?" I inquired. + +"No," returned Hall, with a careless glance at it; "a friend of +Mr. Crawford's, I suppose." + +"More than a friend, I should judge," and I turned the back of +the picture toward him. Across it was written, "with loving +Christmas greetings, from M.S.P."; and it was dated as recently +as the Christmas previous. + +"Well," said Hall, "Mr. Crawford may have had a lady friend who +cared enough about him to send an affectionate greeting, but I +never heard of her before, and I doubt if she is in any way +responsible for the disappearance of this will." + +He went on searching through the desks, giving no serious heed to +the photograph. But to me it seemed important. I alone knew of +the visiting card in the gold bag. I alone knew that that bag +belonged to a lady named Purvis. And here was a photograph +initialed by a lady whose surname began with P, and who was +unmistakably on affectionate terms with Mr. Crawford. To my mind +the links began to form a chain; the lady who had sent her +photograph at Christmas, and who had left her gold bag in Mr. +Crawford's office the night he was killed, surely was a lady to +be questioned. + +But I had not yet had a reply to my telegram to headquarters, so +I said nothing to Hall on this subject, and putting the +photograph in my pocket continued to assist him to look for the +will, but without success. However, the discovery of the +photograph had in a measure diverted my suspicions from Gregory +Hall; and though I endeavored to draw him into general +conversation, I did not ask him any definite questions about +himself. + +But the more I talked with him, the more I disliked him: He not +only showed a mercenary, fortune-hunting spirit, but he showed +himself in many ways devoid of the finer feelings and chivalrous +nature that ought to belong to the man about to marry such a +perfect flower of womanhood as Florence Lloyd. + + + + +XI + +LOUIS'S STORY + + +After spending an evening in thinking over the situation and +piecing together my clues, I decided that the next thing to be +done was to trace up that transfer. If I could fasten that upon +Gregory Hall, it would indeed be a starting point to work from. +Although this seemed to eliminate Mrs. Purvis, who had already +become a living entity in my mind, I still had haunting +suspicions of Hall; and then, too, there was a possibility of +collusion between these two. It might be fanciful, but if Hall +and the Purvis woman were both implicated, Hall was quite enough +a clever villain to treat the photograph lightly as he had done. + +And so the next morning, I started for the office of the trolley +car company. + +I learned without difficulty that the transfer I had found, must +have been given to some passenger the night of Mr. Crawford's +death, but was not used. It had been issued after nine o'clock +in the evening, somewhere on the line between New York and West +Sedgwick. It was a transfer which entitled a passenger on that +line to a trip on the branch line running through West Sedgwick, +and the fact that it had not been used, implied either a +negligent conductor or a decision on the part of the passenger +not to take his intended ride. + +All this was plausible, though a far from definite indication +that Hall might have come out from New York by trolley, or part +way by trolley, and though accepting a transfer on the West +Sedgwick branch, had concluded not to use it. But the whole +theory pointed equally as well to Mrs. Purvis, or indeed to the +unknown intruder insisted upon by so many. I endeavored to learn +something from certain conductors who brought their cars into +West Sedgwick late at night, but it seemed they carried a great +many passengers and of course could not identify a transfer, of +which scores of duplicates had been issued. + +Without much hope I interviewed the conductors of the West +Sedgwick Branch Line. Though I could learn nothing definite, I +fell into conversation with one of them, a young Irishman, who +was interested because of my connection with the mystery. + +"No, sir," he said, "I can't tell you anythin' about a stray +transfer. But one thing I can tell you. That 'ere murder was +committed of a Toosday night, wasn't it?" + +"Yes," I returned. + +"Well, that 'ere parlyvoo vally of Mr. Crawford's, he's rid, on +my car 'most every Toosday night fer weeks and weeks. It's his +night off. And last Toosday night he didn't ride with me. Now I +don't know's that means anything, but agin it might." + +It didn't seem to me that it meant much, for certainly Louis was +not under the slightest suspicion. And yet as I came to think +about it, if that had been Louis's transfer and if he had dropped +it near the office veranda, he had lied when he said that he went +round the other side of the house to reach the back entrance. + +It was all very vague, but it narrowed itself down to the point +that if that were Louis's transfer it could be proved; and if not +it must be investigated further. For a trolley transfer, issued +at a definite hour, and dropped just outside the scene of the +crime was certainly a clue of importance. + +I proceeded to the Crawford house, and though I intended to have +a talk with Louis later, I asked first for Miss Lloyd. Surely, +if I were to carry on my investigation of the case, in her +interests, I must have a talk with her. I had not intruded +before, but now that the funeral was over, the real work of +tracking the criminal must be commenced, and as one of the +principal characters in the sad drama, Miss Lloyd must play her +part. + +Until I found myself in her presence I had not actually realized +how much I wanted this interview. + +I was sure that what she said, her manner and her facial +expression, must either blot out or strengthen whatever shreds of +suspicion I held against her. + +"Miss Lloyd," I began, "I am, as you know, a detective; and I am +here in Sedgwick for the purpose of discovering the cowardly +assassin of your uncle. I assume that you wish to aid me in any +way you can. Am I right in this?" + +Instead of the unhesitating affirmative I had expected, the girl +spoke irresolutely. "Yes," she said, "but I fear I cannot help +you, as I know nothing about it." + +The fact that this reply did not sound to me as a rebuff, for +which it was doubtless intended, I can only account for by my +growing appreciation of her wonderful beauty. + +Instead of funereal black, Miss Lloyd was clad all in white, and +her simple wool gown gave her a statuesque appearance; which, +however, was contradicted by the pathetic weariness in her face +and the sad droop of her lovely mouth. Her helplessness appealed +to me, and, though she assumed an air of composure, I well knew +it was only assumed, and that with some difficulty. + +Resolving to make it as easy as possible for her, I did not ask +her to repeat the main facts, which I already knew. + +"Then, Miss Lloyd," I said, in response to her disclaimer, "if +you cannot help me, perhaps I can help you. I have reason to +think that possibly Louis, your late uncle's valet, did not tell +the truth in his testimony at the coroner's inquest. I have +reason to think that instead of going around the house to the +back entrance as he described, he went around the other side, +thus passing your uncle's office." + +To my surprise this information affected Miss Lloyd much more +seriously than I supposed it would. + +"What?" she said, and her voice was a frightened whisper. "What +time did he come home?" + +"I don't know," I replied; "but you surely don't suspect Louis of +anything wrong. I was merely hoping, that if he did pass the +office he might have looked in, and so could tell us of your +uncle's well-being at that time." + +"At what time?" + +"At whatever time he returned home. Presumably rather late. But +since you are interested in the matter, will you not call Louis +and let us question him together?" + +The girl fairly shuddered at this suggestion. She hesitated, and +for a moment was unable to speak. Of course this behavior on her +part filled my soul with awful apprehension. Could it be +possible that she and Louis were in collusion, and that she +dreaded the Frenchman's disclosures? I remembered the strange +looks he had cast at her while being questioned by the coroner. +I remembered his vehement denial of having passed the office that +evening,--too vehement, it now seemed to me. However, if I were +to learn anything damaging to Florence Lloyd's integrity, I would +rather learn it now, in her presence, than elsewhere. So I again +asked her to send for the valet. + +With a despairing look, as of one forced to meet an impending +fate, she rose, crossed the room and rang a bell. Then she +returned to her seat and said quietly, "You may ask the man such +questions as you wish, Mr. Burroughs, but I beg you will not +include me in the conversation." + +"Not unless it should be necessary," I replied coldly, for I did +not at all like her making this stipulation. To me it savored of +a sort of cowardice, or at least a presumption on my own +chivalry. + +When the man appeared, I saw at a glance he was quite as much +agitated as Miss Lloyd. There was no longer a possibility of a +doubt that these two knew something, had some secret in common, +which bore directly on the case, and which must be exposed. A +sudden hope flashed into my mind that it might be only some +trifling secret, which seemed of importance to them, but which +was merely a side issue of the great question. + +I considered myself justified in taking advantage of the man's +perturbation, and without preliminary speech I drew the transfer +from my pocket and fairly flashed it in his face. + +"Louis," I said sternly, "you dropped this transfer when you came +home the night of Mr. Crawford's death." + +The suddenness of my remark had the effect I desired, and fairly +frightened the truth out of the man. + +"Y-yes, sir," he stammered, and then with a frightened glance at +Miss Lloyd, he stood nervously interlacing his fingers. + +I glanced at Miss Lloyd myself, but she had regained entire +self-possession, and sat looking straight before her with an air +that seemed to say, "Go on, I'm prepared for the worst." + +As I paused myself to contemplate the attitudes of the two, I +lost my ground of vantage, for when I again spoke to the man, he +too was more composed and ready to reply with caution. Doubtless +he was influenced by Miss Lloyd's demeanor, for he imitatively +assumed a receptive air. + +"Where did you get the transfer?" I went on. + +"On the trolley, sir; the main line." + +"To be used on the Branch Line through West Sedgwick?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Why did you not use it?" + +"As I tell you, sir, and as I tell monsieur, the coroner, I have +spend that evening with a young lady. We went for a trolley +ride, and as we returned I take a transfer for myself, but not +for her, as she live near where we alight." + +"Oh, you left the main line and took the young lady home, +intending then yourself to come by trolley through West +Sedgwick?" + +"Yes, sir; it was just that way." + +At this point Louis seemed to forget his embarrassment, his gaze +strayed away, and a happy expression came into his eyes. I felt +sure I was reading his volatile French nature aright, when I +assumed his mind had turned back to the pleasant evening he had +spent with his young lady acquaintance. Somehow this went far to +convince me of the fellow's innocence for it was quite evident +the murder and its mystery were not uppermost in his thoughts at +that moment. But my next question brought him beck to +realization of the present situation. + +"And why didn't you use your transfer?" + +"Only that the night, he was so pleasant, I desired to walk." + +"And so you walked through the village, holding, perhaps, the +transfer in your hand?" + +"I think, yes; but I do not remember the transfer in my hand, +though he may have been there." + +And now the man's unquiet had returned. His lips twitched and +his dark eyes rolled about, as he endeavored in vain to look +anywhere but at Miss Lloyd. She, too, was controlling herself by +a visible effort. + +Anxious to bring the matter to a crisis, I said at once, and +directly: + +"And then you entered the gates of this place, you walked to the +house, you walked around the house to the back by way of the path +which leads around by the library veranda, and you accidentally +dropped your transfer near the veranda step." + +I spoke quietly enough, but Louis immediately burst into voluble +denial. + +"No, no!" he exclaimed; "I do not go round by the office, I go +the other side of the house. I have tell you so many times." + +"But I myself picked up your transfer near the office veranda." + +"Then he blow there. The wind blow that night, oh, something +fearful! He blow the paper around the house, I think." + +"I don't think so," I retorted; "I think you went around the +house that way, I think you paused at the office window--" + +Just here I made a dramatic pause myself, hoping thus to appeal +to the emotional nature of my victim. And I succeeded. Louis +almost shrieked as he pressed his hands against his eyes, and +cried out: "No! no! I tell you I did not go round that way! I +go round the other way, and the wind--the wind, he blow my +transfer all about!" + +I tried a more quiet manner, I tried persuasive arguments, I +finally resorted to severity and even threats, but no admission +could I get from Louis, except that he had not gone round the +house by way of the office. I was positive the man was lying, +and I was equally positive that Miss Lloyd knew he was lying, and +that she knew why, but the matter seemed to me at a deadlock. I +could have questioned her, but I preferred to do that when Louis +was not present. If she must suffer ignominy it need not be +before a servant. So I dismissed Louis, perhaps rather curtly, +and turning to Miss Lloyd, I asked her if she believed his +assertion that he did not pass by the office that night. + +"I don't know what I believe," she answered, wearily drawing her +hand across her brow. "And I can't see that it matters anyway. +Supposing he did go by the office, you certainly don't suspect +him of my uncle's murder, do you?" + +"It is my duty, Miss Lloyd," I said gently, for the girl was +pitiably nervous, "to get the testimony of any one who was in or +near the office that night. But of course testimony is useless +unless it is true." + +I looked her straight in the eyes as I said this, for I was +thoroughly convinced that her own testimony at the inquest had +not been entirely true. + +I think she understood my glance, for she arose at once, and said +with extreme dignity: "I cannot see any necessity for prolonging +this interview, Mr. Burroughs. It is of course your work to +discover the truth or falsity of Louis's story, but I cannot see +that it in any way implicates or even interests me." + +The girl was superb. Her beauty was enhanced by the sudden +spirit she showed, and her flashing dark eyes suggested a baited +animal at bay. Apparently she had reached the limit of her +endurance, and was unwilling to be questioned further or drawn +into further admissions. And yet, some inexplicable idea came to +me that she was angry, not with me, but with the tangle in which +I had remorselessly enmeshed her. Of a high order of +intelligence, she knew perfectly well that I was conscious of the +fact that there was a secret of some sort between her and the +valet. Her haughty disdain, I felt sure, was to convey the +impression that though there might be a secret between them, it +was no collusion or working together, and that though her +understanding with the man was mysterious, it was in no way +beneath her dignity. Her imperious air as she quietly left the +room thrilled me anew, and I began to think that a woman who +could assume the haughty demeanor of an empress might have +chosen, as empresses had done before her, to commit crime. + +However, she went away, and the dark and stately library seemed +to have lost its only spot of light and charm. I sat for a few +minutes pondering over it all, when I saw passing through the +hall, the maid, Elsa. It suddenly occurred to me, that having +failed with the mistress of the house, I might succeed better +with her maid, so I called the girl in. + +She came willingly enough, and though she seemed timid, she was +not embarrassed or afraid. + +"I'm in authority here," I said, "and I'm going to ask you some +questions, which you must answer truthfully." + +"Yes, sir," she said, without any show of interest. + +"Have you been with Miss Lloyd long?" + +"Yes, sir; about four years, sir." + +"Is she a kind mistress?" + +"Indeed she is, sir. She is the loveliest lady I ever worked +for. I'd do anything for Miss Lloyd, that I would." + +"Well, perhaps you can best serve her by telling all you know +about the events of Tuesday night." + +"But I don't know anything, sir," and Elsa's eyes opened wide in +absolutely unfeigned wonderment. + +"Nothing about the actual murder; no, of course not. But I just +want you to tell me a few things about some minor matters. Did +you take the yellow flowers from the box that was sent to Miss +Lloyd?" + +"Yes, sir; I always untie her parcels. And as she was at dinner, +I arranged the flowers in a vase of water." + +"How many flowers were there?" + +For some reason this simple query disturbed the girl greatly. +She flushed scarlet, and then she turned pale. She twisted the +corner of her apron in her nervous fingers, and then said, only +half audibly, "I don't know, sir." + +"Oh, yes, you do, Elsa," I said in kindly tones, being anxious +not to frighten her; "tell me how many there were. Were there +not a dozen?" + +"I don't know, sir; truly I don't. I didn't count them at all." + +It was impossible to disbelieve her; she was plainly telling the +truth. And, too, why should she count the roses? The natural +thing would be not to count them, but merely to put them in the +vase as she had said. And yet, there was something about those +flowers that Elsa knew and wouldn't tell. Could it be that I was +on the track of that missing twelfth rose? I knew, though +perhaps Elsa did not, how many roses the florist had sent in that +box. And unless Gregory Hall had abstracted one at the time of +his purchase, the twelfth rose had been taken by some one else +after the flowers reached the Crawford House. Could it have been +Elsa, and was her perturbation only because of a guilty +conscience over a petty theft of a flower? But I realized I must +question her adroitly if I would find out these things. + +"Is Miss Lloyd fond of flowers?" I asked, casually. + +"Oh, yes, sir, she always has some by her." + +"And do you love flowers too, Elsa?" + +"Yes, sir." But the quietly spoken answer, accompanied by a +natural and straightforward look promised little for my new +theory. + +"Does Miss Lloyd sometimes give you some of her flowers?" + +"Oh, yes, sir, quite often." + +"That is, if she's there when they arrive. But if she isn't +there, and you open the box yourself, she wouldn't mind if you +took one or two blossoms, would she?" + +"Oh, no, sir, she wouldn't mind. Miss Lloyd's awful kind about +such things. But I wouldn't often do it, sir." + +"No; of course not. But you did happen to take one of those +yellow roses, didn't you, though?" + +I breathlessly awaited the answer, but to my surprise, instead of +embarrassment the girl's eyes flashed with anger, though she +answered quietly enough, "Well, yes, I did, sir." + +Ah, at last I was on the trail of that twelfth rose! But from +the frank way in which the girl admitted having taken the flower, +I greatly feared that the trail would lead to a commonplace +ending. + +"What did you do with it?" I said quietly, endeavoring to make +the question sound of little importance. + +"I don't want to tell you;" and the pout on her scarlet lips +seemed more like that of a wilful child than of one guarding a +guilty secret. + +"Oh, yes, tell me, Elsa;" and I even descended to a coaxing tone, +to win the girl's confidence. + +"Well, I gave it to that Louis." + +"To Louis? and why do you call him that Louis?" + +"Oh, because. I gave him the flower to wear because I thought he +was going to take me out that evening. He had promised he would, +at least he had sort of promised, and then,--and then--" + +"And then he took another young lady," I finished for her in +tones of such sympathy and indignation that she seemed to think +she had found a friend. + +"Yes," she said, "he went and took another girl riding on the +trolley, after he had said he would take me." + +"Elsa," I said suddenly, and I fear she thought I had lost +interest in her broken heart, "did Louis wear that rose you gave +him that night?" + +"Yes, the horrid man! I saw it in his coat when he went away." + +"And did he wear it home again?" + +"How should I know?" Elsa tossed her head with what was meant to +be a haughty air, but which was belied by the blush that mantled +her cheek at her own prevarication. + +"But you do know," I insisted, gently; "did he wear it when he +came home?" + +"Yes, he did." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because I looked in his room the next day, and I saw it there +all withered. He had thrown it on the floor!" + +The tragedy in Elsa's eyes at this awful relation of the cruelty +of the sterner sex called for a spoken sympathy, and I said at +once, and heartily: "That was horrid of him! If I were you I'd +never give him another flower." + +In accordance with the natural impulses of her sex, Elsa seemed +pleased at my disapproval of Louis's behavior, but she by no +means looked as if she would never again bestow her favor upon +him. She smiled and tossed her head, and seemed willing enough +for further conversation, but for the moment I felt that I had +enough food for thought. So I dismissed Elsa, having first +admonished her not to repeat our conversation to any one. In +order to make sure that I should be obeyed in this matter, I +threatened her with some unknown terrors which the law would +bring upon her if she disobeyed me. When I felt sure she was +thoroughly frightened into secrecy concerning our interview, I +sent her away and began to cogitate on what she had told me. + +If Louis came to the house late that night, as by his own +admission he did; if he went around the house on the side of the +office, as the straying transfer seemed to me to prove; and if, +at the time, he was wearing in his coat a yellow rose with petals +similar to those found on the office floor the next morning, was +not one justified in looking more deeply into the record of Louis +the valet? + + + + +XII + +LOUIS'S CONFESSION + + +Elsa had been gone but a few moments when Florence Lloyd returned +to the library. I arose to greet her and marvelled at the change +which had come over her. Surely here was a girl of a thousand +moods. She had left me with an effect of hauteur and disdain; +she returned, gentle and charming, almost humble. I could not +understand it, and remained standing after she had seated +herself, awaiting developments. + +"Sit down, Mr. Burroughs," she said, and her low, sweet voice +seemed full of cordial invitation. "I'm afraid I was rude to +you, when I went away just now; and I want to say that if I can +tell you anything you wish to know, I should be glad to do so." + +I drew up a chair and seated myself near her. My heart was +pounding with excitement at this new phase of the girl's nature. +For an instant it seemed as if she must have a personal kindly +feeling toward me, and then my reason returned, and with a +suddenly falling heart and slowing pulses, I realized that I was +a fool, and that after thinking over the disclosures Louis had +made, Miss Lloyd had shrewdly concluded it was to her best +advantage to curry favor with the detective. This knowledge came +to me instinctively, and so I distrusted her gentle voice and +winning smile, and hardening my heart against her, I resolved to +turn this new mood of hers to my own advantage, and learn what I +could while she was willing to converse: + +"I'm glad of this opportunity, Miss Lloyd," I said, "for there +are some phases of this affair that I want to discuss with you +alone. Let us talk the matter over quietly. It is as well that +you should know that there are some doubts felt as to the entire +truth of the story you told at the inquest. I do not say this to +frighten you," I added, as the poor girl clasped her hands and +gave me a look of dumb alarm; "but, since it is so, I want to do +all I can to set the matter right. Do you remember exactly all +that took place, to your knowledge, on the night of your uncle's +death?" + +"Yes," she replied, looking more frightened still. It was +evident that she knew more than she had yet revealed, but I +almost forgot my inquiry, so absorbed was I in watching her +lovely face. It was even more exquisite in its terrified pallor +than when the fleeting pink showed in her cheeks. + +"Then," I said, "let us go over it. You heard your uncle go out +at about eight o'clock and return about nine?" + +"Yes, I heard the front door open and close both times." + +"You and Mrs. Pierce being in the music-room, of course. Then, +later, you heard a visitor enter, and again you heard him leave?" + +"Yes--Mr. Porter." + +"Did you know it was Mr. Porter, at the time he was here?" + +"No; I think not. I didn't think at all who it might be. Uncle +Joseph often had men to call in the evening." + +"About what time did Mr. Porter leave?" + +"A few minutes before ten. I heard Lambert say, `Good-night, +sir,' as he closed the door after him." + +"And soon after, you and Mrs. Pierce went upstairs?" + +"Yes; only a few minutes after." + +"And, later, Mrs. Pierce came to your room?" + +"Yes; about half-past ten, I should say; she came to get a book. +She didn't stay two minutes." + +"And after that, you went down-stairs again to speak to your +uncle?" For the merest instant Miss Lloyd's eyes closed and she +swayed as if about to faint, but she regained her composure at +once, and answered with some asperity + +"I did not. I have told you that I did not leave my room again +that night." + +Her dark eyes blazed, her cheeks flushed, and though her full +lower lip quivered it was with anger now, not fear. + +As I watched her, I wondered how I could have thought her more +beautiful when pale. Surely with this glowing color she was at +her glorious best. + +"Then when did you drop the two rose petals there?" I went on, +calmly enough, though my own heart was beating fast. + +"I did not drop them. They were left there by some intruder." + +"But, Miss Lloyd," and I observed her closely, "the petals were +from a rose such as those Mr. Hall sent you that evening. The +florist assures me there were no more such blossoms in West +Sedgwick at that time. The fallen petals, then, were from one of +your own roses, or--" + +"Or?" asked Miss Lloyd, her hands pressed against the laces at +her throbbing bosom. "Or?" + +"Or," I went on, "from a rose worn by some one who had come out +from New York on a late train." + +For the moment I chose to ignore Louis's rose for I wanted to +learn anything Miss Lloyd could tell me. And, too, the yellow +petals might have fallen from a flower in Hall's coat after all. +I thought it possible by suggesting this idea, to surprise from +her some hint as to whether she had any suspicion of him. + +She gave a gasp, and, leaning back in her chair, she closed her +eyes, as if spent with a useless struggle. + +"Wait a moment," she said, putting out her hand with an imploring +gesture. "Wait a moment. Let me think. I will tell you all, +but--wait--" + +With her eyes still closed, she lay back against the satin chair +cushion, and I gazed at her, fascinated. + +I knew it! Then and there the knowledge came to me! Not her +guilt, not her innocence. The crime seemed far away then, but I +knew like a flash not only that I loved this girl, this Florence +Lloyd, but that I should never love any one else. It mattered +not that she was betrothed to another man; the love that had +suddenly sprung to life in my heart was such pure devotion that +it asked no return. Guilty or innocent, I loved her. Guilty or +innocent, I would clear her; and if the desire of her heart were +toward another, she should ever know or suspect my adoration for +her. + +I gazed at her lovely face, knowing that when her eyes opened I +must discreetly turn my glance aside, but blessing every instant +of opportunity thus given me. + +Her countenance, though troubled and drawn with anxiety, was so +pure and sweet that I felt sure of her innocence. But it should +be my work to prove that to the world. + +Suddenly her eyes flashed open; again her mood had changed. + +"Mr. Burroughs," she said, and there was almost a challenge in +her tone, "why do you ask me these things? You are a detective, +you are here to find out for yourself, not to ask others to find +out. I am innocent of my uncle's death, of course, but when you +cast suspicion on the man to whom I am betrothed, you cannot +expect me to help you confirm that suspicion. You have made me +think by your remark about a man on a late train that you refer +to Mr. Hall. Do you?" + +This was a change of base, indeed. I was being questioned +instead of doing the catechising myself. Very well; if it were +my lady's will to challenge me, I would meet her on her own +ground. + +"You took the hint very quickly," I said. "Had you thought of +such a possibility before?" + +"No, nor do I now. I will not." Again she was the offended +queen. "But since you have breathed the suggestion, you may not +count on any help from me." + +"Could you have helped me otherwise?" I said, detaining her as +she swept by. + +To this she made no answer, but again her face wore a troubled +expression, and as she went slowly from the room, she left me +with a strong conviction that she knew far more about Gregory +Hall's connection with the matter than she had told me. + +I sat alone for a few moments wondering what I had better do +next. + +I had about decided to go in search of Parmalee, and talk things +over with him, but I thought it would be better to see Louis +first, and settle up the matter of his rose more definitely. +Accordingly I rang the bell, and when the parlor maid answered +it, I asked her to send both Louis and Elsa to me in the library. + +I could see at once that these two were not friendly toward each +other, and I hoped this fact would aid me in learning the truth +from them. + +"Now, Louis," I began, "you may as well tell me the truth about +your home coming last Tuesday night. In the first place, you +must admit that you were wearing in your coat one of the yellow +roses which had been sent to Miss Lloyd." + +"No, no, indeed!" declared Louis, giving Elsa a threatening +glance, as if forbidding her to contradict him. + +"Nonsense, man," I said; "don't stand there and tell useless +lies. It will not help you. The best thing you can do for +yourself and for all concerned is to tell the truth. And, +moreover, if you don't tell it to me now, you will have to tell +it to Mr. Goodrich, later. Elsa gave you a yellow rose and you +wore it away that evening when you went to see your young lady. +Now what became of that rose?" + +"I--I lost it, sir." + +"No, you didn't lose it. You wore it home again, and when you +retired, you threw it on the floor, in your own room." + +"No, sir. You make mistake. I look for him next day in my room, +but cannot find him." + +I almost laughed at the man's ingenuousness. He contradicted his +own story so unconsciously, that I began to think he was more of +a simpleton than a villain. + +"Of course you couldn't find it," I informed him, "for it was +taken from your room next day; and of course you didn't look for +it until after you had heard yellow roses discussed at the +inquest." + +Louis's easily read face proved my statement correct, but he +glowered at Elsa, as he said: "Who take him away? who take my +rose from my room." + +"But you denied having a rose, Louis. Now you're asking who took +it away. Once again, let me advise you to tell the truth. +You're not at all successful in telling falsehoods. Now answer +me this: When you came home Tuesday night, did you or did you not +walk around the house past the office window?" + +"No, sir. I walked around the other side. I--" + +"Stop, Louis! You're not telling the truth. You did walk around +by the office, and you dropped your transfer there. It never +blew all around the house, as you have said it did." + +A look of dogged obstinacy came into the man's eyes, but he did +not look at me. He shifted his gaze uneasily, as he repeated +almost in a singsong way, "go round the other side of the +house." + +It was a sort of deadlock. Without a witness to the fact, I +could not prove that he had gone by the office windows, though I +was sure he had. + +But help came from an unexpected quarter. + +Elsa had been very quiet during the foregoing conversation, but +now she spoke up suddenly, and said: "He did go round by the +office, Mr. Burroughs, and I saw him." + +I half expected to see Louis turn on the girl in a rage, but the +effect of her speech on him was quite the reverse. He almost +collapsed; he trembled and turned white, and though he tried to +speak, he made no sound. Surely this man was too cowardly for a +criminal; but I must learn the secret of his knowledge. + +"Tell me about it, Elsa," I said, quietly. + +"I was looking out at my window, sir, at the back of the house; +and I saw Louis come around the house, and he came around by the +office side." + +"You're positive of this, Elsa? you would swear to it? +Remember, you are making an important assertion." + +"I am telling the truth, sir. I saw him plainly as he came +around and entered at the back door." + +"You hear, Louis?" I said sternly. "I believe Elsa's statement +rather than yours, for she tells a straight story, while you are +rattled and agitated, and have all the appearance of concealing +something." + +Louis looked helpless. He didn't dare deny Elsa's story, but he +would not confirm it. At last he said, with a glance of hatred +at the girl, "Elsa, she tell that story to make the trouble for +me." + +There was something in this. Elsa, I knew, was jealous, and her +pride had been hurt because Louis had taken the rose she gave +him, and then had gone to call on another girl. But I had no +reason to doubt Elsa's statement, and I had every reason to doubt +Louis's. I tried to imagine what Louis's experience had really +been, and it suddenly occurred to me, that though innocent +himself of real wrong, he had seen something in the office, or +through the office windows that he wished to keep secret. I did +not for a moment believe that the man had killed his master, so I +concluded he was endeavoring to shield someone else. + +"Louis," I said, suddenly, "I'll tell you what you did. You went +around by the office, you saw a light there late at night, and +you naturally looked in. You saw Mr. Crawford there, and he was +perhaps already killed. You stepped inside and discovered this, +and then you came away, and said nothing about it, lest you +yourself be suspected of the crime. Incidentally you dropped two +petals from the rose Elsa had given you." + +Louis's answer to this accusation was a perfect storm of denials, +expressed in voluble French and broken English, but all to the +effect that it was not true, and that if he had seen his master +dead, he would have raised an alarm. + +I saw that I had not yet struck the right idea, so I tried again. +"Then, Louis, you must have passed the office before Mr. Crawford +was killed, which is really more probable. Then as you passed +the window, you saw something or someone in the office, and +you're not willing to tell about it. Is this it?" + +This again brought forth only incoherent denial, and I could see +that the man was becoming so rattled, it was difficult for him to +speak clearly, had he desired to do so. + +"Elsa," I said, suddenly, "you took that rose from Louis's room. +What did you do with it?" + +"I kept,--I mean, I don't know what I did with it," stammered +the girl, blushing rosy red, and looking shyly at Louis. + +I felt sorry to disclose the poor girl's little romance, for it +was easy enough to see that she was in love with the fickle +Frenchman, who evidently did not reciprocate her interest. He +looked at her disdainfully, and she presented a pathetic picture +of embarrassment. + +But the situation was too serious for me to consider Elsa's +sentiments, and I said, rather sternly: "You do know where it is. +You preserved that rose as a souvenir. Go at once and fetch it." + +It was a chance shot, for I was not at all certain that she had +kept the withered flower, but dominated by my superior will she +went away at once. She returned in a moment with the flower. + +Although withered, it was still in fairly good condition; quite +enough so for me to see at a glance that no petals had been +detached from it. The green calyx leaves clung around the bud in +such a manner as to prove positively that the unfolding flower +had lost no petal. This settled the twelfth rose. Wherever +those tell-tale petals had come from, they were not from Louis's +rose. I gave the flower back to Elsa, and I said, "take your +flower, my girl, and go away now. I don't want to question you +any more for the present." + +A little bewildered at her sudden dismissal, Elsa went away, and +I turned my attention to the Frenchman. + +"Louis," I began, "this must be settled here and now between us. +Either you must tell me what I want to know, or you must be taken +before the district attorney, and be made to tell him. I have +proved to my own satisfaction that the rose petals in the office +were not from the flower you wore. Therefore I conclude that you +did not go into the office that night, but as you passed the +window you did see someone in there with Mr. Crawford. The hour +was later than Mr. Porter's visit, for he had already gone home, +and Lambert had locked the front door and gone to bed. You came +in later, and what you saw, or whom you saw through the office +window so surprised you, or interested you, that you paused to +look in, and there you dropped your transfer." + +Though Louis didn't speak, I could see at once that I was on the +right track at last. The man was shielding somebody. He was +unwilling to tell what he had seen, lest it inculpate someone. +Could it be Gregory Hall? If Hall had come out on a late train, +and Louis had seen him there, he might, perhaps under Hall's +coercion, be keeping the fact secret. Again, if a strange woman +with the gold bag had been in the office, that also would have +attracted Louis's attention. Again, and here my heart almost +stopped beating, could he have seen Florence Lloyd in there? But +a second thought put me at ease again. Surely to have seen +Florence in there would have been so usual and natural a sight +that it could not have caused him anxiety. And yet, again, for +him to have seen Florence in her uncle's office, would have +proved to him that the story she told at the inquest was false. +I must get out of him the knowledge he possessed, if I had to +resort to a sort of third degree. But I might manage it by +adroit questioning. + +"I quite understand, Louis, that you are shielding some person. +But let me tell you that it is useless. It is much wiser for you +to tell me all you know, and then I can go to work intelligently +to find the man who murdered Mr. Crawford. You want me to find +him, do you not?" + +Louis seemed to have found his voice again. "Yes, sir, of course +he must be found. Of course I want him found,--the miscreant, +the villain! but, Mr. Burroughs, sir, what I have see in the +office makes nothing to your search. I simply see Mr. Crawford +alive and well. And I pass by. That fool girl Elsa, she tell +you that I pass by, so I may say so. But I see nothing in the +office to alarm me, and if I drop my transfer there, it is but +because I think of him as no consequence, and I let him go." + +"Louis," and I looked him straight in the eye, "all that sounds +straightforward and true. But, if you saw nothing in the office +to surprise or alarm you, why did you at first deny having passed +by the office at all?" + +The man had no answer for this. He was not ingenious in +inventing falsehood, and he stood looking helpless and +despairing. I perceived I should have to go on with my +questioning. + +"Was it a man or a woman you saw in there with Mr. Crawford?" + +"I see nobody, sir, nobody but my master." + +That wouldn't do, then. As long as I asked him direct questions +he could answer falsely. I must trip him up in some roundabout +way. + +"Yes," I said pleasantly, "I understand that. And what was Mr. +Crawford doing?" + +"He sat at his desk;" and Louis spoke slowly, and picked his +words with care. + +"Was he writing?" + +"No; that is, yes, sir, he was writing." + +I now knew he was not writing, for the truth had slipped out +before the man could frame up his lie. I believed I was going to +learn something at last, if I could make the man tell. Surely +the testimony of one who saw Joseph Crawford late that night was +of value, and though that testimony was difficult to obtain, it +was well worth the effort. + +"And was Mr. Hall at his desk also?" + +Louis stared at me. "Mr. Hall, he was in New York that night." +This was said so simply and unpremeditatedly, that I was +absolutely certain it was not Hall whom Louis had seen there. + +"Oh, yes, of course, so he was," I said lightly; "and Mr. +Crawford was writing, was he?" + +"Yes, sir," spoken with the dogged scowl which I was beginning to +learn always accompanied Louis's untruthful statements. + +And now I decided to put my worst fear to the test and have it +over with. It must be done, and I felt sure I could do it, but +oh, how I dreaded it! + +"Did Mr. Crawford look up or see you?" + +"No, sir." + +"And didn't Miss Florence see you, either?" + +"No, sir." + +It was out. The mere fact that Louis answered that question so +calmly and unconsciously proved he was telling the truth. But +what a truth! for it told me at the same time that Florence Lloyd +was in the office with her uncle, that Louis had seen her, but +that she had not seen him. I had learned the truth from my +reading of the man's expression and demeanor, and though it made +my heart sink, I didn't for a moment doubt that it was the truth. + +Of course Louis realized the next instant what he had done, and +again he began his stammering denials. "Of course, Miss Lloyd do +not see me for she is not there. How can she see me, then? I +tell you my master was alone!" + +Had I been the least uncertain, this would have convinced me that +I was right. For Louis's voice rose almost to a shriek, so angry +was he with himself for having made the slip. + +"Give it up, Louis," I said; "you have let out the truth, now be +quiet. You couldn't help it, man, you were bound to trip +yourself up sooner or later. You put up a good fight for Miss +Florence, and now that I understand why you told your falsehoods, +I can't help admiring your chivalry. You saw Miss Lloyd there +that evening, you heard her next day at the inquest deny having +been in the office in the evening. So, in a way, it was very +commendable on your part to avoid contradicting her testimonies, +with your own. But you are not clever enough, Louis, to carry +out that deceit to the end. And now that you have admitted that +you saw Miss Lloyd there, you can best help her cause, and best +help me to help her cause, by telling me all about it. For rest +assured, Louis, that I am quite as anxious to prove Miss Lloyd's +innocence as you can possibly be, and the only way to accomplish +that end, is to learn as much of the truth as I possibly can. +Now, tell me what she was doing." + +"Only talking to her uncle, sir." Louis had the air of a +defeated man. He had tried to shield Miss Lloyd's name and had +failed. Now he spoke sullenly, and as if his whole cause were +lost. + +"And Mr. Crawford was talking to her?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"He was not writing, then?" + +"No, sir." + +"Did they seem to be having an amicable conversation?" + +Louis hesitated, and his hesitation was sufficient answer. + +"Never mind," I said, "you need not tell me more. In fact, I +would prefer to get the rest of the story from Miss Lloyd, +herself." + +Louis looked startled. "Don't tell Miss Lloyd I told you this," +he begged; "I have try very hard not to tell you." + +"I know you tried hard, Louis, not to tell me, and it was not +your fault that I wrung the truth from you. I will not tell Miss +Lloyd that you told me, unless it should become necessary, and I +do not think it will. Go away now, Louis, and do not discuss +this matter with anybody at all. And, also, do not think for a +moment that you have been disloyal in telling me that you saw +Miss Lloyd. As I say, you couldn't help it. I should simply +have kept at you until I made you tell, so you need not blame +yourself in the matter at all." + +Louis went away, and though I could see that he believed what I +said, he had a dejected air, and I couldn't help feeling sorry +for the man who had so inadvertently given me the knowledge that +must be used against the beautiful girl who had herself given +untrue testimony. + + + + +XIII + +MISS LLOYD'S CONFIDENCE + + +After Louis left me, I felt as if a dead weight had fallen on my +heart. Florence Lloyd had gone down to her uncle's office late +that night, and yet at the inquest she had testified that she had +not done so. And even to me, when talking quietly and alone, she +had repeated her false assertion. This much I knew, but why she +had done if, I did not know. Not until I was forced to do so, +would I believe that even her falsehood in the matter meant that +she herself was guilty. There must be some other reason for her +mendacity. + +Well, I would find out this reason, and if it were not a +creditable one to her, I would still endeavor to do all I could +for her. I longed to see her, and try if perhaps kind and gentle +urging might not elicit the truth. But she had left me with such +an air of haughty disdain, I hesitated to send for her again just +now. And as it was nearly dinner time, I resolved to go back to +my hotel. + +On the way, I came to the conclusion that it would do no harm to +have a talk with Parmalee. + +I had not much confidence in his detective ability, but he knew +the people better than I did, and might be able to give me +information of some sort. + +After I reached the Sedgwick Arms I telephoned Parmalee to come +over and dine with me, and he readily consented. + +During dinner I told him all that I had learned from Elsa and +Louis. Of course I had no right to keep this knowledge to +myself, and, too, I wanted Parmalee's opinion on the situation as +it stood at present. + +"It doesn't really surprise me," he said, "for I thought all +along, Miss Lloyd was not telling the truth. I'm not yet ready +to say that I think she killed her uncle, although I must say it +seems extremely probable. But if she didn't commit the deed, she +knows perfectly well who did." + +"Meaning Hall?" + +"No, I don't mean Hall. In fact I don't mean any one in +particular. I think Miss Lloyd was the instigator of the crime, +and practically carried out its commission, but she may have had +an assisting agent for the actual deed." + +"Oh, how you talk! It quite gives me the shivers even to think +of a beautiful young woman being capable of such thoughts or +deeds." + +"But, you see, Burroughs, that's because you are prejudiced in +favor of Miss Lloyd. Women are capable of crime as well as men, +and sometimes they're even more clever in the perpetration of it. +And you must admit if ever a woman were capable of crime, Miss +Lloyd is of that type." + +"I have to agree to that, Parmalee," I admitted; "she certainly +shows great strength of character." + +"She shows more than that; she has indomitable will, unflinching +courage, and lots of pluck. If, for any reason, she made up her +mind to kill a man, she'd find a way to do it." + +This talk made me cringe all over, but I couldn't deny it, for so +far as I knew Florence Lloyd, Parmalee's words were quite true. + +"All right," I said, "I'll grant her capability, but that doesn't +prove a thing. I don't believe that girl is guilty, and I hope +to prove her innocence." + +"But look at the evidence, man! She denied her presence in the +room, yet we now know she was there. She denied the ownership of +the gold bag, yet probably she was also untruthful in that +matter. She is a woman of a complex nature, and though I admire +her in many ways, I shouldn't care to have much to do with her." + +"Let us leave out the personal note, Parmalee," I said, for I was +angry at his attitude toward Florence. + +"All right. Don't you think for a moment that I don't see where +you stand with regard to the haughty beauty, but that's neither +here nor there." + +"Indeed it isn't," I returned; "and whatever may be my personal +feeling toward Miss Lloyd, I can assure you it in no way +influences my work on this case." + +"I believe you, old man; and so I'm sure you will agree with me +that we must follow up the inquiry as to Miss Lloyd's presence in +the office that night. She must be made to talk, and perhaps it +would be best to tell Goodrich all about it, and let him push the +matter." + +"Oh, no," I cried involuntarily. "Don't set him on the track of +the poor girl. That is, Parmalee, let me talk to her again, +first. Now that I know she was down there that night, I think I +can question her in a little different manner, and persuade her +to own the truth. And, Parmalee, perhaps she was down there +because Hall was there." + +"Hall! He was in New York." + +"So he says, but why should he speak the truth any more than Miss +Lloyd?" + +"You, mean they may both be implicated?" + +"Yes; or he may have used her as a tool." + +"Not Florence Lloyd. She's nobody's tool." + +"Any woman might be a tool at the command of the man she loves. +But," I went on, with an air of conviction which was not entirely +genuine, "Miss Lloyd doesn't love Mr. Hall." + +"I don't know about that," returned Parmalee; "you can't tell +about a woman like Florence Lloyd. If she doesn't love him, +she's at least putting up a bluff of doing so." + +"I believe it is a bluff, though I'm sure I don't know why she +should do that." + +"On the other hand, why shouldn't she? For some reason she's +dead set on marrying him, ready to give up her fortune to do so, +if necessary. He must have some sort of a pretty strong hold on +her." + +"I admit all that, and yet I can't believe she loves him. He's +such a commonplace man." + +"Commonplace doesn't quite describe him. And yet Gregory Hall, +with all the money in the world, could never make himself +distinguished or worth while in any way." + +"No; and what would Miss Florence Lloyd see in a man like that, +to make her so determined to marry him?" + +"I don't think she is determined, except that Hall has some sort +of hold over her,--a promise or something,--that she can't +escape." + +My heart rejoiced at the idea that Florence was not in love with +Hall, but I did not allow myself to dwell on that point, for I +was determined to go on with the work, irrespective of my +feelings toward her. + +"You see," Parmalee went on, "you suspect Hall, only because +you're prejudiced against him." + +"Good gracious!" I exclaimed; "that's an awful thing to say, +Parmalee. The idea of a detective suspecting a man, merely +because he doesn't admire his personality! And besides, it isn't +true. If I suspect Hall, it's because I think he had a strong +motive, a possible opportunity, and more than all, because he +refuses to tell where he was Tuesday night." + +"But that's just the point, Burroughs. A man who'll commit +murder would fix up his alibi first of all. He would know that +his refusal to tell his whereabouts would be extremely +suspicious. No, to my mind it's Hall's refusal to tell that +stamps him as innocent." + +"Then, in that case, it's the cleverest kind of an alibi he could +invent, for it stamps him innocent at once." + +"Oh, come, now, that's going pretty far; but I will say, +Burroughs, that you haven't the least shred of proof against +Hall, and you know it. Prejudice and unfounded suspicion and +even a strong desire that he should be the villain, are all very +well. But they won't go far as evidence in a court of law." + +I was forced to admit that Parmalee was right, and that so far I +had no proof whatever that Gregory Hall was at all implicated in +Mr. Crawford's death. To be sure he might have worn a yellow +rose, and he might have brought the late newspaper, but there was +no evidence to connect him with those clues, and too, there was +the gold bag. It was highly improbable that that should have +been brought to the office and left there by a man. + +However, I persuaded Parmalee to agree not to carry the matter to +Mr. Goodrich until I had had one more interview with Miss Lloyd, +and I promised to undertake that the next morning. + +After Parmalee had gone, I indulged in some very gloomy +reflections. Everything seemed to point one way. Every proof, +every suspicion and every hint more or less implicated Miss +Lloyd. + +But the more I realized this, the more I determined to do all I +could for her, and as to do this, I must gain her confidence, and +even liking, I resolved to approach the subject the next day with +the utmost tactfulness and kindliness, hoping by this means to +induce the truth from her. + +The next morning I started on my mission with renewed +hopefulness. Reaching the Crawford house, I asked for Miss +Lloyd, and I was shown into a small parlor to wait for her. It +was a sort of morning room, a pretty little apartment that I had +not been in before; and it was so much more cheerful and pleasant +than the stately library, I couldn't help hoping that Miss Lloyd, +too, would prove more amenable than she had yet been. + +She soon came in, and though I was beginning to get accustomed to +the fact that she was a creature of variable moods, I was +unprepared for this one. Her hauteur had disappeared; she was +apparently in a sweet and gentle frame of mind. Her large dark +eyes were soft and gentle, and though her red lips quivered, it +was not with anger or disdain as they had done the day before. +She wore a plain white morning gown, and a long black necklace of +small beads. The simplicity of this costume suited her well, and +threw into relief her own rich coloring and striking beauty. + +She greeted me more pleasantly than she had ever done before, and +I couldn't help feeling that the cheerful sunny little room had a +better effect on her moods than the darker furnishings of the +library. + +"I wish," I began, "that we had not to talk of anything +unpleasant this morning. I wish there were no such thing as +untruth or crime in the world, and that I were calling on you, as +an acquaintance, as a friend might call." + +"I wish so, too," she responded, and as she flashed a glance at +me, I had a glimpse of what it might mean to be friends with +Florence Lloyd without the ugly shadow between us that now was +spoiling our tete-a-tete. + +Just that fleeting glance held in it the promise of all that was +attractive, charming and delightful in femininity. It was as if +the veil of the great, gloomy sorrow had been lifted for a +moment, and she was again an untroubled, merry girl. It seemed +too, as if she wished that we could be together under pleasanter +circumstances and could converse on subjects of less dreadful +import. However, all these thoughts that tumultuously raced +through my mind must be thrust aside in favor of the business in +hand. + +So though I hated to, I began at once. + +"I am sorry, Miss Lloyd, to doubt your word, but I want to tell +you myself rather than to have you learn it from others that I +have a witness who has testified to your presence in your uncle's +office that fateful Tuesday night, although you have said you +didn't go down there." + +As I had feared, the girl turned white and shivered as if with a +dreadful apprehension. + +"Who is the witness?" she said. + +I seemed to read her mind, and I felt at once that to her, the +importance of what I had said depended largely on my answer to +this question, and I paused a moment to think what this could +mean. And then it flashed across me that she was afraid I would +say the witness was Gregory Hall. I became more and more +convinced that she was shielding Hall, and I felt sure that when +she learned it was not he, she would feel relieved. However, I +had promised Louis not to let her know that he had told me of +seeing her, unless it should be necessary. + +"I think I won't tell you that; but since you were seen in the +office at about eleven o'clock, will you not tell me,--I assure +you it is for your own best interests,--what you were doing +there, and why you denied being there?" + +"First tell me the name of your informer;" and so great was her +agitation that she scarcely breathed the words. + +"I prefer not to do so, but I may say it is a reliable witness +and one who gave his evidence most unwillingly." + +"Well, if you will not tell me who he was, will you answer just +one question about him? Was it Mr. Hall?" + +"No; it was not Mr. Hall." + +As I had anticipated, she showed distinctly her relief at my +answer. Evidently she dreaded to hear Hall's name brought into +the conversation. + +"And now, Miss Lloyd, I ask you earnestly and with the best +intent, please to tell me the details of your visit to Mr. +Crawford that night in his office." + +She sat silent for a moment, her eyes cast down, the long dark +lashes lying on her pale cheeks. I waited patiently, for I knew +she was struggling with a strong emotion of some sort, and I +feared if I hurried her, her gentle mood would disappear, and she +might again become angry or haughty of demeanor. + +At last she spoke. The dark lashes slowly raised, and she seemed +even more gentle than at first. + +"I must tell you," she said. "I see I must. But don't repeat +it, unless it is necessary. Detectives have to know things, but +they don't have to tell them, do they?" + +"We never repeat confidences, Miss Lloyd," I replied, "except +when necessary to further the cause of right and justice." + +"Truly? Is that so?" + +She brightened up so much that I began to hope she had only some +trifling matter to tell of. + +"Well, then," she went on, "I will tell you, for I know it need +not be repeated in the furtherance of justice. I did go down to +my uncle's office that night, after Mrs. Pierce had been to my +room; and it was I--it must have been I--who dropped those rose +petals." + +"And left the bag," I suggested. + +"No," she said, and her face looked perplexed, but not confused. +"No, the bag is not mine, and I did not leave it there. I know +nothing of it, absolutely nothing. But I did go to the office at +about eleven o'clock. I had a talk with my uncle, and I left him +there a half-hour later--alive and well as when I went in." + +"Was your conversation about your engagement?" + +"Yes." + +"Was it amicable?" + +"No, it was not! Uncle Joseph was more angry than I had ever +before seen him. He declared he intended to make a new will the +next morning, which would provide only a small income for me. He +said this was not revenge or punishment for my loyalty to Mr. +Hall, but--but--" + +"But what?" I urged gently. + +"It scarcely seems loyal to Mr. Hall for me to say it," she +returned, and the tears were in her eyes. "But this is all +confidential. Well, Uncle Joseph said that Gregory only wanted +to marry me for my fortune, and that the new will would prove +this. Of course I denied that Mr. Hall was so mercenary, and +then we had a good deal of an altercation. But it was not very +different from many discussions we had had on the same subject, +only Uncle was more decided, and said he had asked Mr. Randolph +to come the next morning and draw up the new will. I left him +still angry--he wouldn't even say good-night to me--and now I +blame myself for not being more gentle, and trying harder to make +peace. But it annoyed me to have him call Gregory mercenary--" + +"Because you knew it was true," I said quietly. + +She turned white to the very lips. "You are unnecessarily +impertinent," she said. + +"I am," I agreed. "I beg your pardon." But I had discovered +that she did realize her lover's true nature. + +"And then you went to your room, and stayed there?" I went on, +with a meaning emphasis on the last clause. + +"Yes," she said; "and so, you see, what I have told you casts no +light on the mystery. I only told you so as to explain the bits +of the yellow rose. I feared, from what you said, that Mr. +Hall's name might possibly be brought into discussion." + +"Why, he was not in West Sedgwick that night," I said. + +"Where was he?" she countered quickly. + +"I don't know. He refuses to tell. Of course you must see that +his absolute refusal to tell where he was that night is, to say +the least, an unwise proceeding." + +"He won't even tell me where he was," she said, sighing. "But it +doesn't matter. He wasn't here." + +"That's just it," I rejoined. "If he was not here, it would be +far better for him to tell where he really was. For the refusal +to tell raises a question that will not be downed, except by an +alibi. I don't want to be cruel, Miss Lloyd, but I must make you +see that as the inquiry proceeds, the actions of both Mr. Hall +and yourself will be subjected to very close scrutiny, and though +perhaps undue attention will be paid to trifles, yet the trifles +must be explained." + +I was so sorry for the girl, that, in my effort not to divulge my +too great sympathy, I probably used a sterner tone than I +realized. + +At any rate, I had wakened her at last to a sense of the danger +that threatened her and her lover, and now, if she would let me, +I would do all in my power to save them both. But I must know +all she could tell me. + +"When did Mr. Hall leave you?" I asked. + +"You mean the day--last Tuesday?" + +"Yes?" + +"He left here about half-past five. He had been in the office +with Uncle Joseph all the afternoon, and at five o'clock he came +in here for a cup of tea with me. He almost always comes in at +tea-time. Then he left about half-past five, saying he was going +to New York on the six o'clock train." + +"For what purpose?" + +"I never ask him questions like that. I knew he was to attend to +some business for Uncle the next day, but I never ask him what he +does evenings when he is in the city, or at any time when he is +not with me." + +"But surely one might ask such questions of the man to whom she +is betrothed." + +Miss Lloyd again put on that little air of hauteur which always +effectually stopped my "impertinence." + +"It is not my habit," she said. "What Gregory wishes me to know +he tells me of his own accord." + + + + +XIV + +MR. PORTER'S VIEWS + + +I began on a new tack. + +"Miss Lloyd, why did you tell an untruth, and say you did not +come down-stairs again, after going up at ten o'clock?" + +Her hauteur disappeared. A frightened, appealing look came into +her eyes, and she looked to me like a lovely child afraid of +unseen dangers. + +"I was afraid," she confessed. "Yes, truly, I was afraid that +they would think I had something to do with the--with Uncle +Joseph's death. And as I didn't think it could do any good to +tell of my little visit to him, I just said I didn't come down. +Oh, I know it was a lie--I know it was wicked--but I was so +frightened, and it was such an easy way out of it, just to deny +it." + +"And why have you confessed it to me now?" + +Her eyes opened wide in astonishment. + +"I told you why," she said: "so you would know where the rose +leaves came from, and not suspect Gregory." + +"Do you suspect him?" + +"N-no, of course not. But others might." + +It is impossible to describe the dismay that smote my heart at +the hesitation of this answer. It was more than hesitation. It +was a conflict of unspoken impulses, and the words, when they +were uttered, seemed to carry hidden meanings, and to my mind +they carried the worst and most sinister meaning conceivable. + +To me, it seemed to point unmistakably to collusion between +Florence Lloyd, whom I already loved, and Gregory Hall, whom I +already distrusted and disliked. Guilty collusion between these +two would explain everything. Theirs the motive, theirs the +opportunity, theirs the denials and false witnessing. The gold +bag, as yet, remained unexplained, but the yellow rose petals and +the late newspaper could be accounted for if Hall had come out on +the midnight train, and Florence had helped him to enter and +leave the house unseen. + +Bah! it was impossible. And, any way, the gold bag remained as +proof against this horrid theory. I would pin my faith to the +gold bag, and through its presence in the room, I would defy +suspicions of the two people I had resolved to protect. + +"What do you think about the gold bag?" I asked. + +"I don't know what to think. I hate to accuse Uncle Joseph of +such a thing, but it seems as if some woman friend of his must +have come to the office after I left. The long French windows +were open--it was a warm night, you know--and any one could +have come and gone unseen." + +"The bag wasn't there when you were there?" + +"I'm sure it was not! That is, not in sight, and Uncle Joseph +was not the sort of man to have such a thing put away in his desk +as a souvenir, or for any other reason." + +"Forgive the insinuation, but of course you could not know +positively that Mr. Crawford would not have a feminine souvenir +in his desk." + +She looked up surprised. "Of course I could not be positive," +she said, "but it is difficult to imagine anything sentimental +connected with Uncle Joseph." + +She almost smiled as she said this, for apparently the mere idea +was amusing, and I had a flashing glimpse of what it must be to +see Florence Lloyd smile! Well it should not be my fault, or due +to my lack of exertion, if the day did not come when she should +smile again, and I promised myself I should be there to see it. +But stifling these thoughts, I brought my mind back to duty. +Drawing from my pocket the photograph I had found in Mr. +Crawford's desk, I showed it to her. + +"In Uncle's desk!" she exclaimed. "This does surprise me. I had +no idea Uncle Joseph had received a photograph from a lady with +an affectionate message, too. Are you quite sure it belonged to +him?" + +"I only know that we found it in his desk, hidden beneath some +old letters and papers." + +"Were the letters from this lady?" + +"No; in no case could we find a signature that agreed with these +initials." + +"Here's your chance, Mr. Burroughs," and again Florence Lloyd's +dimples nearly escaped the bondage which held them during these +sad days. "If you're a detective, you ought to gather at once +from this photograph and signature all the details about this +lady; who she is, and what she had to do with Uncle Joseph." + +"I wish I could do so," I replied, "but you see, I'm not that +kind of detective. I have a friend, Mr. Stone, who could do it, +and would tell you, as you say, everything about that lady, +merely by looking at her picture." + +As a case in point, I told her then and there the story of +Fleming Stone's wonderful deductions from the pair of muddy shoes +we had seen in a hotel one morning. + +"But you never proved that it was true?" she asked, her dark eyes +sparkling with interest, and her face alight with animation. + +"No, but it wasn't necessary. Stone's deductions are always +right, and if not, you know it is the exception that proves the +rule." + +"Well, let us try to deduce a little from this picture. I don't +believe for a moment, that Uncle Joseph had a romantic attachment +for any lady, though these words on the back of the picture do +seem to indicate it." + +"Well, go on," said I, so carried away by the fascination of the +girl, when she had for a moment seemed to forget her troubles, +that I wanted to prolong the moment. "Go ahead, and see what +inferences you can draw from the photograph." + +"I think she is about fifty years old," Florence began, "or +perhaps fifty-five. What do you think?" + +"I wouldn't presume to guess a lady's age," I returned, "and +beside, I want you to try your powers on this. You may be better +at deductions than I am. I have already confessed to you my +inability in that direction." + +"Well," she went on, "I think this lady is rather good-looking, +and I think she appreciates the fact." + +"The first is evident on the face of it, and the second is a +universal truth, so you haven't really deduced much as yet." + +"No, that's so," and she pouted a little. "But at any rate, I +can deduce more about her dress than you can. The picture was +taken, or at least that costume was made, about a year ago, for +that is the style that was worn then." + +"Marvellous, Holmes, marvellous!" + +She flashed me a glance of understanding and appreciation, but +undaunted, went on: "The gown also was not made by a competent +modiste, but was made by a dressmaker in the house, who came in +by the day. The lady is of an economical turn of mind, because +the lace yoke of the gown is an old one, and has even been darned +to make it presentable to use in the new gown." + +"Now that is deduction," I said admiringly; "the only trouble is, +that it doesn't do us much good. Somehow I can't seem to fancy +this good-looking, economical, middle-aged lady, who has her +dressmaking done at home, coming here in the middle of the night +and killing Mr. Crawford." + +"No, I can't, either," said Florence gravely; "but then, I can't +imagine any one else doing that, either. It seems like a +horrible dream, and I can't realize that it really happened to +Uncle Joseph." + +"But it did happen, and we must find the guilty person. I think +with you, that this photograph is of little value as a clue, and +yet it may turn out to be. And yet I do think the gold bag is a +clue. You are quite sure it isn't yours?" + +Perhaps it was a mean way to put the question, but the look of +indignation she gave me helped to convince me that the bag was +not hers. + +"I told you it was not," she said, "but," and her eyes fell, +"since I have confessed to one falsehood, of course you cannot +believe my statement." + +"But I do believe it," I said, and I did, thoroughly. + +"At any rate, it is a sort of proof," she said, smiling sadly, +"that any one who knows anything about women's fashions can tell +you that it is not customary to carry a bag of that sort when one +is in the house and in evening dress. Or rather, in a negligee +costume, for I had taken off my evening gown and wore a tea-gown. +I should not think of going anywhere in a tea-gown, and carrying +a gold bag." + +The girl had seemingly grown almost lighthearted. Her speech was +punctuated by little smiles, and her half sad, half gay demeanor +bewitched me. I felt sure that what little suggestion of +lightheartedness had come into her mood had come because she had +at last confessed the falsehood she had told, and her freed +conscience gave her a little buoyancy of heart. + +But there were still important questions to be asked, so, though +unwillingly, I returned to the old subject. + +"Did you see your uncle's will while you were there?" + +"No; he talked about it, but did not show it to me." + +"Did he talk about it as if it were still in his possession?" + +"Why, yes; I think so. That is, he said he would make a new one +unless I gave up Gregory. That implied that the old one was +still in existence, though he didn't exactly say so." + +"Miss Lloyd, this is important evidence. I must tell you that I +shall be obliged to repeat much of it to the district attorney. +It seems to me to prove that your uncle did not himself destroy +the will." + +"He might have done so after I left him." + +"I can't think it, for it is not in scraps in the waste-basket, +nor are there any paper-ashes in the grate." + +"Well, then," she rejoined, "if he didn't destroy it, it may yet +be found." + +"You wish that very much?" I said, almost involuntarily. + +"Oh, I do!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Not so much for +myself as--" + +She paused, and I finished the sentence for her "For Mr. Hall." + +She looked angry again, but said nothing. + +"Well, Miss Lloyd," I said, as I rose to go, "I am going to do +everything in my power in your behalf and in behalf of Mr. Hall. +But I tell you frankly, unless you will both tell me the truth, +and the whole truth, you will only defeat my efforts, and work +your own undoing." + +I had to look away from her as I said this, for I could not look +on that sweet face and say anything even seemingly harsh or +dictatorial. + +Her lip quivered. "I will do my best," she said tremblingly. "I +will try to make Mr. Hall tell where he was that night. I will +see you again after I have talked with him." + +More collusion! I said good-by rather curtly, I fear, and went +quickly away from that perilous presence. + +Truly, a nice detective, I! Bowled over by a fair face, I was +unable to think clearly, to judge logically, or to work honestly! + +Well, I would go home and think it out by myself. Away from her +influence I surely would regain my cool-headed methods of +thought. + +When I reached the inn, I found Mr. Lemuel Porter there waiting +for me. + +"How do you do, Mr. Burroughs?" he said pleasantly. "Have you +time for a half-hour's chat?" + +It was just what I wanted. A talk with this clear-thinking man +would help me, indeed, and I determined to get his opinions, even +as I was ready to give him mine. + +"Well, what do you think about it all?" I inquired, after we were +comfortably settled at a small table on the shaded veranda, which +was a popular gathering-place at this hour. But in our corner we +were in no danger from listening ears, and I awaited his reply +with interest. + +His eyes smiled a little, as he said + +"You know the old story of the man who said he wouldn't hire a +dog and then do his own barking. Well, though I haven't 'hired' +you, I would be quite ready to pay your honorarium if you can +ferret out our West Sedgwick mystery. And so, as you are the +detective in charge of the case, I ask you, what do you think +about it all?" + +But I was pretty thoroughly on my guard now. + +"I think," I began, "that much hinges on the ownership of that +gold bag." + +"And you do not think it is Miss Lloyd's?" + +"I do not." + +"It need not incriminate her, if it were hers," said Mr. Porter, +meditatively knocking the ash from said his cigar. "She might +have left it in the office at any time previous to the day of the +crime. Women are always leaving such things about. I confess it +does not seem to me important." + +"Was it on Mr. Crawford's desk when you were there?" I asked +suddenly. + +He looked up at me quickly, and again that half-smile came into +his eyes. + +"Am I to be questioned?" he said. "Well, I've no objections, I'm +sure. No, I do not think it was there when I called on Mr. +Crawford that evening. But I couldn't swear to this, for I am +not an observant man, and the thing might have lain there in +front of me and never caught my eye. If I had noticed it, of +course I should have thought it was Florence's." + +"But you don't think so now, do you?" + +"No; I can't say I think so. And yet I can imagine a girl +untruthfully denying ownership under such circumstances." + +I started at this. For hadn't Miss Lloyd untruthfully denied +coming down-stairs to talk to her uncle? + +"But," went on Mr. Porter, "if the bag is not Florence's, then I +can think of but one explanation for its presence there." + +"A lady visitor, late at night," I said slowly. + +"Yes," was the grave reply; "and though such an occurrence might +have been an innocent one, yet, taken in connection with the +crime, there is a dreadful possibility." + +"Granting this," I suggested, "we ought to be able to trace the +owner of the bag." + +"Not likely. If the owner of that bag--a woman, presumably--is +the slayer of Joseph Crawford, and made her escape from the scene +undiscovered, she is not likely to stay around where she may be +found. And the bag itself, and its contents, are hopelessly +unindividual." + +"They are that," I agreed. "Not a thing in it that mightn't be +in any woman's bag in this country. To me, that cleaner's +advertisement means nothing in connection with Miss Lloyd." + +"I am glad to hear you say that, Mr. Burroughs. I confess I have +had a half-fear that your suspicions had a trend in Florence's +direction, and I assure you, sir, that girl is incapable of the +slightest impulse toward crime." + +"I'm sure of that," I said heartily, my blood bounding in my +veins at an opportunity to speak in defense of the woman I loved. +"But how if her impulses were directed, or even coerced, by +another?" + +"Just what do you mean by that?" + +"Oh, nothing. But sometimes the best and sweetest women will act +against their own good impulses for those they love." + +"I cannot pretend to misunderstand you," said Mr. Porter. "But +you are wrong. If the one you have in mind--I will say no name +--was in any way guiltily implicated, it was without the +knowledge or connivance of Florence Lloyd. But, man, the idea is +absurd. The individual in question has a perfect alibi." + +"He refuses to give it." + +"Refuses the details, perhaps. And he has a right to, since they +concern no one but himself. No, my friend, you know the French +rule; well, follow that, and search for the lady with the gold- +mesh bag." + +"The lady without it, at present," I said, with an apologetic +smile for my rather grim jest. + +"Yes; and that's the difficulty. As she hasn't the bag, we can't +discover her. So as a clue it is worthless." + +"It seems to be," I agreed. + +I thought best not to tell Mr. Porter of the card I had found in +the bag, for I hoped soon to hear from headquarters concerning +the lady whose name it bore. But I told him about the photograph +I had found in Mr. Crawford's desk, and showed it to him. He did +not recognize it as being a portrait of any one he had ever seen. +Nor did he take it very seriously as a clue. + +"I'm quite sure," he said, "that Joseph Crawford has not been +interested in any woman since the death of his wife. He has +always seemed devoted to her memory, and as one of his nearest +friends, I think I would have known if he had formed any other +attachment. Of course, in a matter like this, a man may well +have a secret from his nearest friends, but I cannot think this +mild and gentle-looking lady is at all concerned in the tragedy." + +As a matter of fact, I agreed with Mr. Porter, for nothing I had +discovered among the late Mr. Crawford's effects led me to think +he had any secret romance. + +After Mr. Porter's departure I studied long over my puzzles, and +I came to the conclusion that I could do little more until I +should hear from headquarters. + + + + +XV + +THE PHOTOGRAPH EXPLAINED + + +That evening I went to see Philip Crawford. As one of the +executors of his late brother's estate, and as probable heir to +the same, he was an important personage just now. + +He seemed glad to see me, and glad to discuss ways and means of +running down the assassin. Like Mr. Porter, he attached little +importance to the gold bag. + +"I can't help thinking it belongs to Florence," he said. "I know +the girl so well, and I know that her horrified fear of being in +any way connected with the tragedy might easily lead her to, +disown her own property, thinking the occasion justified the +untruth. That girl has no more guilty knowledge of Joseph's +death than I have, and that is absolutely none. I tell you +frankly, Mr. Burroughs, I haven't even a glimmer of a suspicion +of any one. I can't think of an enemy my brother had; he was the +most easy-going of men. I never knew him to quarrel with +anybody. So I trust that you, with your detective talent, can at +least find a clue to lead us in the right direction." + +"You don't admit the gold bag as a clue, then?" I asked. + +"Nonsense! No! If that were a clue, it would point to some +woman who came secretly at night to visit Joseph. My brother was +not that sort of man, sir. He had no feminine acquaintances that +were unknown to his relatives." + +"That is, you suppose so." + +"I know it! We have been brothers for sixty years or more, and +whatever Joseph's faults, they did not lie in that direction. +No, sir; if that bag is not Florence's, then there is some other +rational and commonplace explanation of its presence there." + +"I'm glad to hear you speak so positively, Mr. Crawford, as to +your brother's feminine acquaintances. And in connection with +the subject, I would like to show you this photograph which I +found in his desk." + +I handed the card to Mr. Crawford, whose features broke into a +smile as he looked at it. + +"Oh, that," he said; "that is a picture, of Mrs. Patton." He +looked at the picture with a glance that seemed to be of admiring +reminiscence, and he studied the gentle face of the photograph a +moment without speaking. + +Then he said, "She was beautiful as a girl. She used to be a +school friend of both Joseph and myself." + +"She wrote rather an affectionate message on the back," I +observed. + +Mr. Crawford turned the picture over. + +"Oh, she didn't send this picture to Joseph. She sent it to my +wife last Christmas. I took it over to show it to Joseph some +months ago, and left it there without thinking much about it. He +probably laid it in his desk without thinking much about it, +either. No, no, Burroughs, there is no romance there, and you +can't connect Mrs. Patton with any of your detective +investigations." + +"I rather thought that, Mr. Crawford; for this is evidently a +sweet, simple-minded lady, and more over nothing has turned up to +indicate that Mr. Crawford had a romantic interest of any kind." + +"No, he didn't. I knew Joseph as I know myself. No; whoever +killed my brother, was a man; some villain who had a motive that +I know nothing about." + +"But you were intimately acquainted with your brother's affairs?" + +"Yes, that is what proves to me that whoever this assassin was, +it was some one of whose motive I know nothing. The fact that my +brother was murdered, proves to me that my brother had an enemy, +but I had never suspected it before." + +"Do you know a Mrs. Egerton Purvis?" + +I flung the question at him, suddenly, hoping to catch him +unawares. But he only looked at me with the blank expression of +one who hears a name for the first time. + +"No," he answered, "I never heard of her. Who is she?" + +"Well, when I was hunting through that gold-mesh bag, I +discovered a lady's visiting card with that name on it. It had +slipped between the linings, and so had not been noticed before." + +To my surprise, this piece of information seemed to annoy Mr. +Crawford greatly. + +"No!" he exclaimed. "In the bag? Then some one has put it +there! for I looked over all the bag's contents myself." + +"It was between the pocket and the lining," said I; "it is there +still, for as I felt sure no one else would discover it, I left +it there. Mr. Goodrich has the bag." + +"Oh, I don't want to see it," he exclaimed angrily. "And I tell +you anyway, Mr. Burroughs, that bag is worthless as a clue. Take +my advice, and pay no further attention to it." + +I couldn't understand Mr. Crawford's decided attitude against the +bag as a clue, but I dropped the subject, for I didn't wish to +tell him I had made plans to trace up that visiting card. + +"It is difficult to find anything that is a real clue," I said. + +"Yes, indeed. The whole affair is mysterious, and, for my part, +I cannot form even a conjecture as to who the villain might have +been. He certainly left no trace." + +"Where is the revolver?" I said, picturing the scene in +imagination. + +Philip Crawford started as if caught unawares. + +"How do I know?" he cried, almost angrily. "I tell you, I have +no suspicions. I wish I had! I desire, above all things, to +bring my brother's murderer to justice. But I don't know where +to look. If the weapon were not missing, I should think it a +suicide." + +"The doctor declares it could not have been suicide, even if the +weapon had been found near him. This they learned from the +position of his arms and head." + +"Yes, yes; I know it. It was, without doubt, murder. But who-- +who would have a motive?" + +"They say," I observed, "motives for murder are usually love, +revenge, or money." + +"There is no question of love or revenge in this instance. And +as for money, as I am the one who has profited financially, +suspicion should rest on me." + +"Absurd!" I said. + +"Yes, it is absurd," he went on, "for had I desired Joseph's +fortune, I need not have killed him to acquire it. He told me +the day before he died that he intended to disinherit Florence, +and make me his heir, unless she broke with that secretary of +his. I tried to dissuade him from this step, for we are not a +mercenary lot, we Crawfords, and I thought I had made him +reconsider his decision. Now, as it turns out, he persisted in +his resolve, and was only prevented from carrying it out by this +midnight assassin. We must find that villain, Mr. Burroughs! Do +not consider expense; do anything you can to track him down." + +"Then, Mr. Crawford," said I, "if you do not mind the outlay, I +advise that we send for Fleming Stone. He is a detective of +extraordinary powers, and I am quite willing to surrender the +case to him." + +Philip Crawford eyed me keenly. + +"You give up easily, young man," he said banteringly. + +"I know it seems so," I replied, "but I have my reasons. One is, +that Fleming Stone makes important deductions from seemingly +unimportant clues; and he holds that unless these clues are +followed immediately, they are lost sight of and great +opportunities are gone." + +"H'm," mused Philip Crawford, stroking his strong, square chin. +"I don't care much for these spectacular detectives. Your man, I +suppose, would glance at the gold bag, and at once announce the +age, sex, and previous condition of servitude of its owner." + +"Just what I have thought, Mr. Crawford. I'm sure he could do +just that." + +"And that's all the good it would do! That bag doesn't belong to +the criminal." + +"How do you know?" + +"By common-sense. No woman came to the house in the dead of +night and shot my brother, and then departed, taking her revolver +with her. And again, granting a woman did have nerve and +strength enough to do that, such a woman is not going off leaving +her gold bag behind her as evidence!" + +This speech didn't affect me much. It was pure conjecture. +Women are uncertain creatures, at best; and a woman capable of +murder would be equally capable of losing her head afterward, and +leaving circumstantial evidence behind her. + +I was sorry Mr. Crawford didn't seem to take to the notion of +sending for Stone. I wasn't weakening in the case so far as my +confidence in my own ability was concerned; but I could see no +direction to look except toward Florence Lloyd or Gregory Hall, +or both. And so I was ready to give up. + +"What do you think of Gregory Hall?" I said suddenly. + +"As a man or as a suspect?" inquired Mr. Crawford. + +"Both." + +"Well, as a man, I think he's about the average, ordinary young +American, of the secretary type. He has little real ambition, +but he has had a good berth with Joseph, and he has worked fairly +hard to keep it. As a suspect, the notion is absurd. He wasn't +even in West Sedgwick." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because he went away at six that evening, and was in New York +until nearly noon the next day." + +"How do you know?" + +Philip Crawford stared at me. + +"He says so," I went on; "but no one can prove his statement. He +refuses to say where he was in New York, or what he did. Now, +merely as a supposition, why couldn't he have come out here--say +on the midnight train--called on Mr. Joseph Crawford, and +returned to New York before daylight?" + +"Absurd! Why, he had no motive for killing Joseph." + +"He had the same motive Florence would have. He knew of Mr. +Crawford's objection to their union, and he knew of his threat to +change his will. Mr. Hall is not blind to the advantages of a +fortune." + +"Right you are, there! In fact, I always felt he was marrying +Florence for her money. I had no real reason to think this, but +somehow he gave me that impression." + +"Me, too. Moreover, I found a late extra of a New York paper in +Mr. Crawford's office. This wasn't on sale until about half past +eleven that night, so whoever left it there must have come out +from the city on that midnight train, or later." + +A change came over Philip Crawford's face. Apparently he was +brought to see the whole matter in a new light. + +"What? What's that?" he cried excitedly, grasping his chair-arms +and half rising. "A late newspaper! An extra!" + +"Yes; the liner accident, you know." + +"But--but--Gregory Hall! Why man, you're crazy! Hall is a +good fellow. Not remarkably clever, perhaps, and a +fortune-hunter, maybe, but not--surely not a murderer!" + +"Don't take it so hard, Mr. Crawford," I broke in. "Probably. +Mr. Hall is innocent. But the late paper must have been left +there by some one, after, say, one o'clock." + +"This is awful! This is terrible!" groaned the poor man, and I +couldn't help wondering if he had some other evidence against +Hall that this seemed to corroborate. + +Then, by an effort, he recovered himself, and began to talk in +more normal tones. + +"Now, don't let this new idea run away with you, Mr. Burroughs," +he said. "If Hall had an interview with my brother that night, +he would have learned from him that he intended to make a new +will, but hadn't yet done so." + +"Exactly; and that would constitute a motive for putting Mr. +Crawford out of the way before he could accomplish his purpose." + +"But Joseph had already destroyed the will that favored +Florence." + +"We don't know that," I responded gravely. "And, anyway, if he +had done so, Mr. Hall didn't know it. This leaves his motive +unchanged." + +"But the gold bag," said Mr. Crawford, apparently to get away-- +from the subject of Gregory Hall. + +"If, as you say," I began, "that is Florence's bag--" + +I couldn't go on. A strange sense of duty had forced those words +from me, but I could say no more. + +Fleming Stone might take the case if they wanted him to; or they +might get some one else. But I could not go on, when the only +clues discoverable pointed in a way I dared not look. + +Philip Crawford was ghastly now. His face was working and he +breathed quickly. + +"Nonsense, Dad!" cried a strong, young voice, and his son, +Philip, Jr., bounded into the room and grasped his father's +hands. "I overheard a few of your last words, and you two are on +the wrong track. Florrie's no more mixed up in that horrible +business than I am. Neither is Hall. He's a fool chap, but no +villain. I heard what you said about the late newspaper, but +lots of people come out on that midnight train. You may as well +suspect some peaceable citizen coming home from the theatre, as +to pick out poor Hall, without a scrap of evidence to point to +him." + +I was relieved beyond all words at the hearty assurance of the +boy, and I plucked up new courage. Apprehension had made me +faint-hearted, but if he could show such flawless confidence in +Florence and her betrothed, surely I could do as much. + +"Good for you, young man!" I cried, shaking his hand. "You've +cheered me up a lot. I'll take a fresh start, and surely we'll +find out something. But I'd like to send for Stone." + +"Wait a bit, wait a bit," said Mr. Crawford. "Phil's right; +there's no possibility of Florrie or Hall in the matter. Leave +the gold bag, the newspapers, and the yellow posies out of +consideration, and go to work in some sensible way." + +"How about Mr. Joseph's finances?" I asked. "Are they in +satisfactory shape?" + +"Never finer," said Philip Crawford. "Joseph was a very rich +man, and all due to his own clever and careful investments. A +bit of a speculator, but always on the right side of the market. +Why, he fairly had a corner in X.Y. stock. Just that deal--and +it will go through in a few days--means a fortune in itself. I +shall settle that on Florence." + +"Then you think the will will never be found?" I said. + +Mr. Crawford looked a little ashamed, as well he might, but he +only said + +"If it is, no one will be more glad than I to see Florrie +reinstated in her own right. If no will turns up, Joe's estate +is legally mine, but I shall see that Florence is amply provided +for." + +He spoke with a proud dignity, and I was rather sorry I had +caught him up so sharply. + +I went back to the inn, and, after vainly racking my brain over +it all for a time, I turned in, but to a miserably broken night's +rest. + + + + +A CALL ON Mrs. PURVIS + + +The next morning I received information from headquarters. It +was a long-code telegram, and I eagerly deciphered it, to learn +that Mrs. Egerton Purvis was an English lady who was spending a +few months in New York City. She was staying at the Albion +Hotel, and seemed to be in every way above suspicion of any sort. + +Of course I started off at once to see Mrs. Purvis. + +Parmalee came just as I was leaving the inn, and was of course +anxious and inquisitive to know where I was going, and what I was +going to do. + +At first I thought I would take him into my confidence, and I +even thought of taking him with me. But I felt sure I could do +better work alone. It might be that Mrs. Egerton Purvis should +turn out to be an important factor in the case, and I suppose it +was really an instinct of vanity that made me prefer to look her +up without Parmalee by my side. + +So I told him that I was going to New York on a matter in +connection with the case, but that I preferred to go alone, but I +would tell him the entire result of my mission as soon as I +returned. I think he was a little disappointed, but he was a +good-natured chap, and bade me a cheerful goodby, saying he would +meet me on my return. + +I went to New York and went straight to the Albion Hotel. + +Learning at the desk that the lady was really there, I sent my +card up to her with a request for an immediate audience, and very +soon I was summoned to her apartment. + +She greeted me with that air of frigid reserve typical of an +English woman. Though not unattractive to look at, she possessed +the high cheekbones and prominent teeth which are almost +universal in the women of her nation. She was perhaps between +thirty and forty years old, and had the air of a grande dame. + +"Mr. Burroughs?" she said, looking through her lorgnon at my +card, which she held in her hand. + +"Yes," I assented, and judging from her appearance that she was a +woman of a decided and straightforward nature I came at once to +the point. + +"I'm a detective, madam," I began, and the remark startled her +out of her calm. + +"A detective!" she cried out, with much the same tone as if I had +said a rattlesnake. + +"Do not be alarmed, I merely state my profession to explain my +errand." + +"Not be alarmed! when a detective comes to see me! How can I +help it? Why, I've never had such an experience before. It is +shocking! I've met many queer people in the States, but not a +detective! Reporters are bad enough!" + +"Don't let it disturb you so, Mrs. Purvis. I assure you there is +nothing to trouble you in the fact of my presence here, unless it +is trouble of your own making." + +"Trouble of my own making!" she almost shrieked. "Tell me at +once what you mean, or I shall ring the bell and have you +dismissed." + +Her fear and excitement made me think that perhaps I was on the +track of new developments, and lest she should carry out her +threat of ringing the bell, I plunged at once into the subject. + +"Mrs. Purvis, have you lost a gold-mesh bag?" I said bluntly. + +"No, I haven't," she snapped, "and if I had, I should take means +to recover it, and not wait for a detective to come and ask me +about it." + +I was terribly disappointed. To be sure she might be telling a +falsehood about the bag, but I didn't think so. She was angry, +annoyed, and a little frightened at my intrusion, but she was not +at all embarrassed at my question. + +"Are you quite sure you have not lost a gold-link bag?" I +insisted, as if in idiotic endeavor to persuade her to have done +so. + +"Of course I'm sure," she replied, half laughing now; "I suppose +I should know it if I had done so." + +"It's a rather valuable bag," I went on, "with a gold frame-work +and gold chain." + +"Well, if it's worth a whole fortune, it isn't my bag," she +declared; "for I never owned such a one." + +"Well," I said, in desperation, "your visiting card is in it." + +"My visiting card!" she said, with an expression of blank +wonderment. "Well, even if that is true, it doesn't make it my +bag. I frequently give my cards to other people." + +This seemed to promise light at last. Somehow I couldn't doubt +her assertion that it was not her bag, and yet the thought +suddenly occurred to me if she were clever enough to be +implicated in the Crawford tragedy, and if she had left her bag +there, she would be expecting this inquiry, and would probably be +clever enough to have a story prepared. + +"Mrs. Purvis, since you say it is not your bag, I'm going to ask +you, in the interests of justice, to help me all you can." + +"I'm quite willing to do so, sir. What is it you wish to know?" + +"A crime has been committed in a small town in New Jersey. A +gold-link bag was afterward discovered at the scene of the crime, +and though none of its other contents betokened its owner, a +visiting card with your name on it was in the bag." + +Becoming interested in the story, Mrs. Purvis seemed to get over +her fright, and was exceedingly sensible for a woman. + +"It certainly is not my bag, Mr. Burroughs, and if my card is in +it, I can only say that I must have given that card to the lady +who owns the bag." + +This seemed distinctly plausible, and also promised further +information. + +"Do you remember giving your card to any lady with such a bag?" + +Mrs. Purvis smiled. "So many of your American women carry those +bags," she said; "they seem to be almost universal this year. I +have probably given my card to a score of ladies, who immediately +put it into just such a bag." + +"Could you tell me who they are?" + +"No, indeed;" and Mrs. Purvis almost laughed outright, at what +was doubtless a foolish question. + +"But can't you help me in any way?" I pleaded. + +"I don't really see how I can," she replied. "You see I have so +many friends in New York, and they make little parties for me, or +afternoon teas. Then I meet a great many American ladies, and we +often exchange cards. But we do it so often that of course I +can't remember every particular instance. Have you the card you +speak of?" + +I thanked my stars that I had been thoughtful enough to obtain +the card before leaving West Sedgwick, and taking it from my +pocket-book, I gave it to her. + +"Oh, that one!" she said; "perhaps I can help you a little, Mr. +Burroughs. That is an old-fashioned card, one of a few left over +from an old lot. I have been using them only lately, because my +others gave out. I have really gone much more into society in +New York than I had anticipated, and my cards seemed fairly to +melt away. I ordered some new ones here, but before they were +sent to me I was obliged to use a few of these old-fashioned +ones. I don't know that this would help you, but I think I can +tell pretty nearly to whom I gave those cards." + +It seemed a precarious sort of a chance, but as I talked with +Mrs. Purvis, I felt more and more positive that she herself was +not implicated in the Crawford case. However, it was just as +well to make certain. She had gone to her writing-desk, and +seemed to be looking over a diary or engagement book. + +"Mrs. Purvis," I said, "will you tell me where you were on +Tuesday evening of last week?" + +"Certainly;" and she turned back the leaves of the book. "I went +to a theatre party with my friends, the Hepworths; and afterward, +we went to a little supper at a restaurant. I returned here +about midnight. Must I prove this?" she added, smiling; "for I +can probably do so, by the hotel clerk and by my maid. And, of +course, by my friends who gave the party." + +"No, you needn't prove it," I answered, certain now that she knew +nothing of the Crawford matter; "but I hope you can give me more +information about your card." + +"Why, I remember that very night, I gave my cards to two ladies +who were at the theatre with us; and I remember now that at that +time I had only these old-fashioned cards. I was rather ashamed +of them, for Americans are punctilious in such matters; and now +that I think of it, one of the ladies was carrying a gold-mesh +bag." + +"Who was she?" I asked, hardly daring to hope that I had really +struck the trail. + +"I can't seem to remember her name, but perhaps it will come to +me. It was rather an English type of name, something like +Coningsby." + +"Where did she live?" + +"I haven't the slightest idea. You see I meet these ladies so +casually, and I really never expect to see any of them again. +Our exchange of cards is a mere bit of formal courtesy. No, I +can't remember her name, or where she was from. But I don't +think she was a New Yorker." + +Truly it was hard to come so near getting what might be vital +information, and yet have it beyond my grasp! It was quite +evident that Mrs. Purvis was honestly trying to remember the +lady's name, but could not do so. + +And then I had what seemed to me an inspiration. "Didn't she +give you her card?" I asked. + +A light broke over Mrs. Purvis's face. "Why, yes, of course she +did! And I'm sure I can find it." + +She turned to a card-tray, and rapidly running over the bits of +pasteboard, she selected three or four. + +"Here they are," she exclaimed, "all here together. I mean all +the cards that were given me on that particular evening. And +here is the name I couldn't think of. It is Mrs. Cunningham. I +remember distinctly that she carried a gold bag, and no one else +in the party did, for we were admiring it. And here is her +address on the card; Marathon Park, New Jersey." + +I almost fainted, myself, with the suddenness of the discovery. +Had I really found the name and address of the owner of the gold +bag? Of course there might be a slip yet, but the evidence +seemed clear that Mrs. Cunningham, of Marathon Park, owned the +bag that had been the subject of so much speculation. + +I had no idea where Marathon Park might be, but that was a mere +detail. I thanked Mrs. Purvis sincerely for the help she had +given me, and I was glad I had not told her that her casual +acquaintance was perhaps implicated in a murder mystery. + +I made my adieux and returned at once to West Sedgwick. + +As he had promised, Parmalee met me at the station, and I told +him the whole story, for I thought him entitled to the +information at once. + +"Why, man alive!" he exclaimed, "Marathon Park is the very next +station to West Sedgwick!" + +"So it is!" I said; "I knew I had a hazy idea of having seen the +name, but the trains I have taken to and from New York have been +expresses, which didn't stop there, and I paid no attention to +it." + +"It's a small park," went on Parmalee, "of swagger residences; +very exclusive and reserved, you know. You've certainly +unearthed startling news, but I can't help thinking that it will +be a wild goose chase that leads us to look for our criminal in +Marathon Park!" + +"What do you think we'd better do?" said I. "Go to see Mrs. +Cunningham?" + +"No, I wouldn't do that," said Parmalee, who had a sort of +plebeian hesitancy at the thought of intruding upon aristocratic +strangers. "Suppose you write her a letter and just ask her if +she has lost her bag." + +"All right," I conceded, for truth to tell, I greatly preferred +to stay in West Sedgwick than to go out of it, for I had always +the undefined hope of seeing Florence Lloyd. + +So I wrote a letter, not exactly curt, but strictly formal, +asking Mrs. Cunningham if she had recently lost a gold-mesh bag, +containing her gloves and handkerchief. + +Then Parmalee and I agreed to keep the matter a secret until we +should get a reply to this, for we concluded there was no use in +stirring up public curiosity on the matter until we knew +ourselves that we were on the right trail. + + + + +XVII + +THE OWNER OF THE GOLD BAG + + +The next day I received a letter addressed in modish, angular +penmanship, which, before I opened it, I felt sure had come from +Mrs. Cunningham. It ran as follows + +Mr. HERBERT Burroughs + +Dear Sir: Yes, I have lost a gold bag, and I have known all along +that it is the one the newspapers are talking so much about in +connection with the Crawford case. I know, too, that you are the +detective on the case, and though I can't imagine how you did it, +I think it was awfully clever of you to trace the bag to me, for +I'm sure my name wasn't in it anywhere. As I say, the bag is +mine, but I didn't kill Mr. Crawford, and I don't know who did. +I would go straight to you, and tell you all about it, but I am +afraid of detectives and lawyers, and I don't want to be mixed up +in the affair anyway. But I am going to see Miss Lloyd, and +explain it all to her, and then she can tell you. Please don't +let my name get in the papers, as I hate that sort of prominence. + + Very truly yours, + ELIZABETH CUNNINGHAM. + +I smiled a little over the femininity of the letter, but as +Parmalee had prophesied, Marathon Park was evidently no place to +look for our criminal. + +The foolish little woman who had written that letter, had no +guilty secret on her conscience, of that I was sure. + +I telephoned for Parmalee and showed him the letter. + +"It doesn't help us in one way," he said, "for of course, Mrs. +Cunningham is not implicated. But the bag is still a clue, for +how did it get into Mr. Crawford's office?" + +"We must find out who Mr. Cunningham is," I suggested. + +"He's not the criminal, either. If he had left his wife's bag +there, he never would have let her send this letter." + +"Perhaps he didn't know she wrote it." + +"Oh, perhaps lots of things! But I am anxious to learn what Mrs. +Cunningham tells Miss Lloyd." + +"Let us go over to the Crawford house, and tell Miss Lloyd about +it." + +"Not this morning; I've another engagement. And besides, the +little lady won't get around so soon." + +"Why a little lady?" I asked, smiling. + +"Oh, the whole tone of the letter seems to imply a little +yellow-haired butterfly of a woman." + +"Just the reverse of Florence Lloyd," I said musingly. + +"Yes; no one could imagine Miss Lloyd writing a letter like that. +There's lots of personality in a woman's letter. Much more than +in a man's." + +Parmalee went away, and prompted by his suggestions, I studied +the letter I had just received. It was merely an idle fancy, for +if Mrs. Cunningham was going to tell Miss Lloyd her story, it +made little difference to me what might be her stature or the +color of her hair. But, probably because of Parmalee's +suggestion, I pictured her to myself as a pretty young woman with +that air of half innocence and half ignorance which so well +becomes the plump blonde type. + +The broad veranda of the Sedgwick Arms was a pleasant place to +sit, and I had mused there for some time, when Mr. Carstairs came +out to tell me that I was asked for on the telephone. The call +proved to be from Florence Lloyd asking me to come to her at +once. + +Only too glad to obey this summons, I went directly to the +Crawford house, wondering if any new evidence had been brought to +light. + +Lambert opened the door for me, and ushered me into the library, +where Florence was receiving a lady caller. + +"Mrs. Cunningham," said Florence, as I entered, "may I present +Mr. Burroughs--Mr. Herbert Burroughs. I sent for you," she +added, turning to me, "because Mrs. Cunningham has an important +story to tell, and I thought you ought to hear it at once." + +I bowed politely to the stranger, and awaited her disclosures. + +Mrs. Cunningham was a pretty, frivolous-looking woman, with +appealing blue eyes, and a manner half-childish, half-apologetic. + +I smiled involuntarily to see how nearly her appearance coincided +with the picture in my mind, and I greeted her almost as if she +were a previous acquaintance. + +"I know I've done very wrong," she began, with a nervous little +flutter of her pretty hands; "but I'm ready now to 'fess up, as +the children say." + +She looked at me, so sure of an answering smile, that I gave it, +and said + +"Let us hear your confession, Mrs. Cunningham; I doubt if it's a +very dreadful one." + +"Well, you see," she went on, "that gold bag is mine." + +"Yes," I said; "how did it get here?" + +"I've no idea," she replied, and I could see that her shallow +nature fairly exulted in the sensation she was creating. "I went +to New York that night, to the theatre, and I carried my gold +bag, and I left it in the train when I got out at the station." + +"West Sedgwick?" I asked. + +"No; I live at Marathon Park, the next station to this." + +"Next on the way to New York?" + +"Yes. And when I got out of the train--I was with my husband +and some other people--we had been to a little theatre party--I +missed the bag. But I didn't tell Jack, because I knew he'd +scold me for being so careless. I thought I'd get it back from +the Lost and Found Department, and then, the very next day, I +read in the paper about the--the--awful accident, and it told +about a gold bag being found here." + +"You recognized it as yours?" + +"Of course; for the paper described everything in it--even to +the cleaner's advertisement that I'd just cut out that very day." + +"Why didn't you come and claim it at once?" + +"Oh, Mr. Burroughs, you must know why I didn't! Why, I was +scared 'most to death to read the accounts of the terrible +affair; and to mix in it, myself--ugh! I couldn't dream of +anything so horrible." + +It was absurd, but I had a desire to shake the silly little +bundle of femininity who told this really important story, with +the twitters and simpers of a silly school-girl. + +"And you would not have come, if I had not written you?" + +She hesitated. "I think I should have come soon, even without +your letter." + +"Why, Mrs. Cunningham?" + +"Well, I kept it secret as long as I could, but yesterday Jack +saw that I had something on my mind. I couldn't fool him any +longer." + +"As to your having a mind!" I said to myself, but I made no +comment aloud. + +"So I told him all about it, and he said I must come at once and +tell Miss Lloyd, because, you see, they thought it was her bag +all the time." + +"Yes," I said gravely; "it would have been better if you had come +at first, with your story. Have you any one to substantiate it, +or any proofs that it is the truth?" + +The blue eyes regarded me with an injured expression. Then she +brightened again. + +"Oh, yes, I can `prove property'; that's what you mean, isn't it? +I can tell you which glove finger is ripped, and just how much +money is in the bag, and--and here's a handkerchief exactly like +the one I carried that night. Jack said if I told you all these +things, you'd know it's my bag, and not Miss Lloyd's." + +"And then, there was a card in it." + +"A card? My card?" + +"No, not your card; a card with another name on it. Don't you +know whose?" + +Mrs. Cunningham thought for a moment. Then, "Oh, yes!" she +exclaimed. "Mrs. Purvis gave me her card, and I tucked it in the +pocket of the bag. Was that the way you discovered the bag was +mine? And how did that make you know it." + +"I'll tell you about that some other time if you wish, Mrs. +Cunningham; but just now I want to get at the important part of +your story. How did your gold bag get in Mr. Crawford's office?" + +"Ah, how did it?" The laughing face was sober now and she seemed +appalled at the question. "Jack says some one must have found it +in the car-seat where I left it, and he"--she lowered her voice +--"he must be the--" + +"The murderer," I supplied calmly. "It does look that way. You +have witnesses, I suppose, who saw you in that train?" + +"Mercy, yes! Lots of them. The train reaches Marathon Park at +12: 50, and is due here at one o'clock. Ever so many people got +out at our station. There were six in our own party, and others +besides. And the conductor knows me, and everybody knows Jack. +He's Mr. John Le Roy Cunningham." + +It was impossible to doubt all this. Further corroboration it +might be well to get, but there was not the slightest question in +my mind as to the little lady's truthfulness. + +"I thank you, Mrs. Cunningham," I said, "for coming to us with +your story. You may not be able to get your bag to-day, but I +assure you it will, be sent to you as soon as a few inquiries can +be made. These are merely for the sake of formalities, for, as +you say, your fellow townspeople can certify to your presence on +the train, and your leaving it at the Marathon Park station." + +"Yes," she replied; "and"--she handed me a paper--"there's my +husband's address, and his lawyer's address, and the addresses of +all the people that were in our party that night. Jack said you +might like to have the list. He would have come himself to-day, +only he's fearfully busy. And I said I didn't mind coming alone, +just to see Miss Lloyd. I wouldn't have gone to a jury meeting, +though. And I'm in no hurry for the bag. In fact, I don't care +much if I never get it. It wasn't the value of the thing that +made me come at all, but the fear that my bag might make trouble +for Miss Lloyd. Jack said it might. I don't see how, myself, +but I'm a foolish little thing, with no head for business +matters." She shook her head, and gurgled an absurd little +laugh, and then, after a loquacious leave-taking, she went away. + +"Well?" I said to Florence, and then, "Well?" Florence said to +me. + +It was astonishing how rapidly our acquaintance had progressed. +Already we had laid aside all formality of speech and manner, and +if the girl had not really discovered my mental attitude toward +her, at least I think she must have suspected it. + +"Of course," I began, "I knew it wasn't your bag, because you +said it wasn't. But I did incline a little to the `woman +visitor' theory, and now that is destroyed. I think we must +conclude that the bag was brought here by the person who found it +on that midnight train." + +"Why didn't that person turn it over to the conductor?" she said, +more as if thinking to herself than speaking to me. + +"Yes, why, indeed?" I echoed. "And if he brought it here, and +committed a criminal act, why go away and leave it here?" + +I think it was at the same moment that the minds of both of us +turned to Gregory Hall. Her eyes fell, and as for me, I was +nearly stunned with the thoughts that came rushing to my brain. + +If the late newspaper had seemed to point to Hall's coming out on +that late train, how much more so this bag, which had been left +on that very train + +We were silent for a time, and then, lifting her sweet eyes +bravely to mine, Florence said + +"I have something to tell you." + +"Yes," I replied, crushing down the longing to take her in my +arms and let her tell it there. + +"Mr. Hall had a talk with me this morning. He says that he and +the others have searched everywhere possible for the will, and it +cannot be found. He says Uncle Joseph must have destroyed it, +and that it is practically settled that Uncle Philip is the legal +heir. Of course, Mr. Philip Crawford isn't my uncle, but I have +always called him that, and Phil and I have been just like +cousins." + +"What else did Mr. Hall say?" I asked, for I divined that the +difficult part of her recital was yet to come. + +"He said," she went on, with a rising color, "that he wished me +to break our engagement." + +I will do myself the justice to say that although my first +uncontrollable thought was one of pure joy at this revelation, +yet it was instantly followed by sympathy and consideration for +her. + +"Why?" I asked in a voice that I tried to keep from being hard. + +"He says," she continued, with a note of weariness in her voice, +"that he is not a rich man, and cannot give me the comforts and +luxuries to which I have been accustomed, and that therefore it +is only right for him to release me." + +"Of course you didn't accept his generous sacrifice," I said; and +my own hopes ran riot as I listened for her answer. + +"I told him I was willing to share poverty with him," she said, +with a quiet dignity, as if telling an impersonal tale, "but he +insisted that the engagement should be broken." + +"And is it?" I asked eagerly, almost breathlessly. + +She gave me that look which always rebuked me--always put me +back in my place--but which, it seemed to me, was a little less +severe than ever before. "It's left undecided for a day or two," +she said. Then she added hurriedly + +"I must see if he needs me. Do you suppose this story of Mrs. +Cunningham's will in any way--well, affect him?" + +"It may," I replied truthfully. "At any rate, he must be made to +tell where he was and what he was doing Tuesday night. You have +no idea, have you?" + +Florence hesitated a moment, looked at me in a way I could not +fathom, and then, but only after a little choking sound in her +throat, she said + +"No, I have no idea." + +It was impossible to believe her. No one would show such +emotion, such difficulty of speech, if telling a simple truth. +Yet when I looked in her troubled eyes, and read there anxiety, +uncertainty, and misery, I only loved her more than ever. Truly +it was time for me to give up this case. Whatever turn it took, +I was no fit person to handle clues or evidence which filled me +with deadly fear lest they turn against the one I loved. + +And yet that one, already suspected by many, had been proved to +have both motive and opportunity. + +And I, I who loved her, knew that, in one instance, at least, she +had been untruthful. + +Yes, it was high time for me to give this case into other hands. + +I looked at her again, steadily but with a meaning in my glance +that I hoped she would understand. I wanted her to know, that +though of course justice was my end and aim, yet I was sure the +truth could not implicate her, and if it did implicate Mr. Hall, +the sooner we discovered it the better. + +I think she appreciated my meaning, for the troubled look in her +own eyes disappeared, and she seemed suddenly almost willing to +give me her full confidence. + +I resolved to make the most of my opportunity. + +"Of course you know," I said gently, "that I want to believe all +you say to me. But, Miss Lloyd, your naturally truthful nature +so rebels at your unveracity, that it is only too plain to be +seen when you are not telling the truth. Now, I do not urge you, +but I ask you to tell me, confidentially if you choose, what your +surmise is as to Mr. Hall's strange reticence." + +"It is only a surmise," she said, and though the troubled look +came back to her eyes, she looked steadily at me. "And I have no +real reason even to think it, but I can't help feeling that +Gregory is interested in some other woman beside myself." + +Again I felt that uncontrollable impulse of satisfaction at this +disclosure, and again I stifled it. I endeavored to treat the +matter lightly. "Is that all?" I asked; "do you mean that +perhaps Mr. Hall was calling on some other lady acquaintance that +evening?" + +"Yes, that is what I do mean. And, as I say, I have no real +reason to think it. But still, Mr. Burroughs, if it were true, I +cannot agree with you that it is unimportant. Surely a man is +not expected to call on one woman when he is betrothed to +another, or at least, not to make a secret of it." + +I thoroughly agreed with her, and my opinion that Hall was a cad +received decided confirmation. + +"My treating it as a light matter, Miss Lloyd, was not quite +sincere. Indeed, I may as well confess that it was partly to +cover the too serious interest I take in the matter." + +She looked up, startled at this, but as my eyes told her a +certain truth I made no effort to conceal, she looked down again, +and her lip quivered. + +I pulled myself together. "Don't think I am taking advantage of +your confidence," I said gently; "I want only to help you. +Please consider me an impersonal factor, and let me do all I can +for you. For the moment, let us suppose your surmise is correct. +This would, of course, free Mr. Hall from any implication of +crime." + +"Yes, and while I can't suspect him of anything like crime, I +hate, also, to suspect him of disloyalty to me." + +Her head went up with a proud gesture, and I suddenly knew that +the thought of Hall's interest in another woman, affected her +pride and her sense of what was due her, far more than it did her +heart. Her fear was not so much that Hall loved another woman, +as that his secrecy in the matter meant a slight to her own +dignified position. + +"I understand, Miss Lloyd, and I hope for the sake of all +concerned, your surmise is not correct. But, with your +permission, I feel it my duty to discover where Mr. Hall was that +evening, even if to do this it is necessary to have professional +assistance from headquarters." + +She shuddered at this. "It is so horrid," she said, "to spy upon +a gentleman's movements, if he is only engaged in his personal +affairs." + +"If we were sure of that, we need not spy upon him. But to the +eye of justice there is always the possibility that he was not +about his personal affairs that evening, but was here in West +Sedgwick." + +"You don't really suspect him, do you?" she said; and she looked +at me as if trying to read my very soul. + +"I'm afraid I do," I answered gravely; "but not so much from +evidence against him, as because I don't know where else to look. +Do you?" + +"No," said Florence Lloyd. + + + + +XVIII + +IN Mr. GOODRICH'S OFFICE + + +As was my duty I went next to the district attorney's office to +tell him about Mrs. Cunningham and the gold bag, and to find out +from him anything I could concerning Gregory Hall. I found Mr. +Porter calling there, and both he and Mr. Goodrich welcomed me as +a possible bringer of fresh news. When I said that I did know of +new developments, Mr. Porter half rose from his chair. + +"I dare say I've no business here," he said; "but you know the +deep interest I take in this whole matter. Joseph Crawford was +my lifelong friend and near neighbor, and if I can be in any way +instrumental in freeing Florence from this web of suspicion--" + +I turned on him angrily, and interrupted him by saying + +"Excuse me, Mr. Porter; no one has as yet voiced a suspicion +against Miss Lloyd. For you to put such a thought into words, is +starting a mine of trouble." + +The older man looked at me indulgently, and I think his shrewd +perceptions told him at once that I was more interested in Miss +Lloyd than a mere detective need be. + +"You are right," he said; "but I considered this a confidential +session." + +"It is," broke in Mr. Goodrich, "and if you will stay, Mr. +Porter, I shall be glad to have you listen to whatever Mr. +Burroughs has to tell us, and then give us the benefit of your +advice." + +I practically echoed the district attorney's words, for I knew +Lemuel Porter to be a clear-headed and well-balanced business +man, and his opinions well worth having. + +So it was to two very interested hearers that I related first the +story of Florence's coming downstairs at eleven o'clock on the +fatal night, for a final endeavor to gain her uncle's consent to +her betrothal. + +"Then it was her bag!" exclaimed Mr. Porter. "I thought so all +the time." + +I said nothing at the moment and listened for Mr. Goodrich's +comment. + +"To my mind," said the district attorney slowly, "this story, +told now by Miss Lloyd, is in her favor. If the girl were +guilty, or had any guilty knowledge of the crime, she would not +have told of this matter at all. It was not forced from her; she +told it voluntarily, and I, for one, believe it." + +"She told it," said I, "because she wished to take the +responsibility of the fallen rose petals upon herself. Since we +are speaking plainly, I may assure you, gentlemen, that she told +of her later visit to the office because I hinted to her that the +yellow leaves might implicate Gregory Hall." + +"Then," said Mr. Goodrich triumphantly, "she herself suspects Mr. +Hall, which proves that she is innocent." + +"It doesn't prove her innocent of collusion," observed Mr. +Porter. + +"Nor does it prove that she suspects Mr. Hall," I added. "It +merely shows that she fears others may suspect him." + +"It is very complicated," said the district attorney. + +"It is," I agreed, "and that is why I wish to send for the famous +detective, Fleming Stone." + +"Stone! Nonsense!" exclaimed Mr. Goodrich. "I have every +confidence in your skill, Mr. Burroughs; I would not insult you +by calling in another detective." + +"Surely not," agreed Mr. Porter. "If you need help, Mr. +Burroughs, confer with our local man, Mr. Parmalee. He's a +pretty clever chap, and I don't know why you two don't work more +together." + +"We do work together," said I. "Mr. Parmalee is both clever and +congenial, and we have done our best in the matter. But the days +are going by and little of real importance has been discovered. +However, I haven't told you as yet, the story of the gold bag. I +have found its owner." + +Of course there were exclamations of surprise at this, but +realizing its importance they quietly listened to my story. + +With scarcely a word of interruption from my hearers, I told them +how I had found the card in the bag, how I had learned about Mrs. +Purvis from headquarters, how I had gone to see her, and how it +had all resulted in Mrs. Cunningham's visit to Miss Lloyd that +morning. + +"Well!" exclaimed Mr. Porter, as I concluded the narrative. +"Well! Of all things! Well, I am amazed! Why, this gives a +wide scope of possibilities. Scores of our people come out on +that theatre train every night." + +"But not scores of people would have a motive for putting Joseph +Crawford out of the way," said Mr. Goodrich, who sat perplexedly +frowning. + +Then, by way of a trump card, I told them of the "extra" +edition of the evening paper I had found in the office. + +The district attorney stared at me, but still sat frowning and +silent. + +But Mr. Porter expressed his wonderment. + +"How it all fits in!" he cried. "The bag, known to be from that +late train; the paper, known to have been bought late in New +York! Burroughs, you're a wonder! Indeed, we don't want any +Fleming Stone, when you can do such clever sleuthing as this." + +I stared at him. Nothing I had done seemed to me "clever +sleuthing," nor did my simple discoveries seem to me of any great +significance. + +"I don't like it," said Mr. Goodrich, at last. "Everything so +far known, both early and late information, seems to me to point +to Gregory Hall and Florence Lloyd in collusion." + +"But you said," I interrupted, "that Miss Lloyd's confession that +she did go down-stairs late at night was in her favor." + +"I said that before I knew about this bag story. Now I think the +case is altered, and the two who had real motive are undoubtedly +the suspects." + +"But they had no motive," said Mr. Porter, "since Florence +doesn't inherit the fortune." + +"But they thought she did," explained the district attorney, "and +so the motive was just as strong. Mr. Burroughs, I wish you +would confer with Mr. Parmalee, and both of you set to work on +the suggestions I have advanced. It is a painful outlook, to be +sure, but justice is inexorable. You agree with me, Mr. Porter?" + +Mr. Porter started, as if he, too, had been in a brown study. + +"I do and I don't," he said. "Personally, I think both those +young people are innocent, but if I am correct, no harm will be +done by a further investigation of their movements on Tuesday +night. I think Mr. Hall ought to tell where he was that night, +if only in self-defense. If he proves he was in New York, and +did not come out here, it will not only clear him, but also +Florence. For I think no one suspects her of anything more than +collusion with him." + +Of course I had no mind to tell these men what Florence had told +me confidentially about Mr. Hall's possible occupation Tuesday +evening. They were determined to investigate that very question, +and so, if her surmise were correct, it would disclose itself. + +"Very well," I said, after listening to a little further +discussion, which was really nothing but repetition, "then I will +consult with Mr. Parmalee, and we will try to make further +investigation of Mr. Hall's doings. But I'm ready to admit that. +it does not look easy to me to discover anything of importance. +Mr. Hall is a secretive man, and unless we have a definite charge +against him it is difficult to make him talk." + +"Well, you can certainly learn something," said Mr. Goodrich. +"At any rate devote a few days to the effort. I have confidence +in you, Mr. Burroughs, and I don't think you need call in a man +whom you consider your superior. But if you'll excuse me for +making a suggestion, let me ask you to remember that a theory of +Hall's guilt also possibly implicates Miss Lloyd. You will +probably discover this for yourself, but don't let your natural +chivalry toward a woman, and perhaps a personal element in this +case, blind you to the facts." + +Although he put it delicately, I quite understood that he had +noticed my personal interest in Florence Lloyd, and so, as it was +my duty to disregard that interest in my work, I practically +promised to remember his injunction. + +It was then that I admitted to myself the true state of my mind. +I felt sure Florence was innocent, but I knew appearances were +strongly against her, and I feared I should bungle the case +because of the very intensity of my desire not to. And I thought +that Fleming Stone, in spite of evidence, would be able to prove +what I felt was the truth, that Florence was guiltless of all +knowledge of or complicity in her uncle's death. + +However, I had promised to go on with the quest, and I urged +myself on, with the hope that further developments might clear +Florence, even if they more deeply implicated Gregory Hall. + +I went back to the inn, and spent some time in thinking over the +matter, and methodically recording my conclusions. And, while I +thought, I became more and more convinced that, whether Florence +connived or not, Hall was the villain, and that he had actually +slain his employer because he had threatened to disinherit his +niece. + +Perhaps when Hall came to the office, late that night, Mr. +Crawford was already engaged in drawing up the new will, and in +order to purloin it Hall had killed him, not knowing that the +other will was already destroyed. And destroyed it must be, for +surely Hall had no reason to steal or suppress the will that +favored Florence. + +As a next move, I decided to interview Mr. Hall. + +Such talks as I had had with him so far, had been interrupted and +unsatisfactory. Now I would see him alone, and learn something +from his manner and appearance. + +I found him, as I had expected, in the office of his late +employer. He was surrounded with papers, and was evidently very +busy, but he greeted me with a fair show of cordiality, and +offered me a chair. + +"I want to talk to you plainly, Mr. Hall," I said, "and as I see +you're busy, I will be as brief as possible." + +"I've been expecting you," said he calmly. "In fact, I'm rather +surprised that you haven't been here before." + +"Why?" said I, eying him closely. + +"Only because the inquiries made at the inquest amounted to very +little, and I assumed you would question all the members of the +household again." + +"I'm not sure that's necessary," I responded, following his +example in adopting a light, casual tone. "I have no reason to +suspect that the servants told other than the exact truth. I +have talked to both the ladies, and now I've only a few questions +to put to you." + +He looked up, surprised at my self-satisfied air. + +"Have you nailed the criminal?" he asked, with a greater show of +interest than he had before evinced. + +"Not exactly nailed him, perhaps. But we fancy we are on the +scent." + +"Resent what?" he asked, looking blank. + +"I didn't say `resent.' I said, we are on the scent." + +"Oh, yes. And in what direction does it lead you?" + +"In your direction," I said, willing to try what effect bluntness +might have upon this composed young man. + +"I beg your pardon?" he said, as if he hadn't heard me. + +"Evidences are pointing toward you as the criminal," I said, +determined to disturb his composure if I could. + +Instead of showing surprise or anger, he gave a slight smile, as +one would at an idea too ridiculous to be entertained for an +instant. Somehow, that smile was more convincing to me than any +verbal protestation could have been. + +Then I realized that the man was doubtless a consummate actor, +and he had carefully weighed the value of that supercilious smile +against asseverations of innocence. So I went on: + +"When did you first learn of the accident to the Atlantic liner, +the North America?" + +"I suppose you mean that question for a trap," he said coolly; +"but I haven't the least objection to answering it. I bought a +late 'extra' in New York City the night of the disaster." + +"At what hour did you buy it?" + +"I don't know exactly. It was some time after midnight." + +Really, there was little use in questioning this man. If he had +bought his paper at half-past eleven, as I felt positive he did, +and if he had come out to Sedgwick on the twelve o'clock train, +he was quite capable of answering me in this casual way, to throw +me off the track. + +Well, I would try once again. + +"Excuse me, Mr. Hall, but I am obliged to ask you some personal +questions now. Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?" + +"I beg your pardon?" + +His continued requests for me to repeat my questions irritated me +beyond endurance. Of course it was a bluff to gain time, but he +did it so politely, I couldn't rebuke him. + +"Are you engaged to Miss Lloyd?" I repeated. + +"No, I think not," he said slowly. "She wants to break it off, +and I, as a poor man, should not stand in the way of her making a +brilliant marriage. She has many opportunities for such, as her +uncle often told me, and I should be selfish indeed, now that she +herself is poor, to hold her to her promise to me." + +The hypocrite! To lay on Florence the responsibility for +breaking the engagement. Truly, she was well rid of him, and I +hoped I could convince her of the fact. + +"But she is not so poor," I said. "Mr. Philip Crawford told me +he intends to provide for her amply. And I'm sure that means a +fair-sized fortune, for the Crawfords are generous people." + +Gregory Hall's manner changed. + +"Did Philip Crawford say that?" he cried. "Are you sure?" + +"Of course I'm sure, as he said it to me." + +"Then Florence and I may be happy yet," he said; and as I looked +him straight in the eye, he had the grace to look ashamed of +himself, and, with a rising color, he continued: "I hope you +understand me, Mr. Burroughs. No man could ask a girl to marry +him if he knew that meant condemning her to comparative poverty." + +"No, of course not," said I sarcastically. "Then I assume that, +so far as you are concerned, your engagement with Miss Lloyd is +not broken?" + +"By no means. In fact, I could not desert her just now, when +there is a--well, a sort of a cloud over her." + +"What do you mean?" I thundered. "There is no cloud over her." + +"Well, you know, the gold bag and the yellow rose leaves . . . " + +"Be silent! The gold bag has been claimed by its owner. But you +are responsible for its presence in this room! You, who brought +it from the midnight train, and left it here! You, who also left +the late city newspaper here! You, who also dropped two yellow +petals from the rose in your buttonhole." + +Gregory Hall seemed to turn to stone as he listened to my words. +He became white, then ashen gray. His hands clinched his +chair-arms, and his eyes grew glassy and fixed. + +I pushed home my advantage. "And therefore, traced by these +undeniable evidences, I know that you are the slayer of Joseph +Crawford. You killed your friend, your benefactor, your +employer, in order that he might not disinherit the girl whose +fortune you wish to acquire by marrying her!" + +Though I had spoken in low tones, my own intense emotion made my +words emphatic, and as I finished I was perhaps the more excited +of the two. + +For Hall's composure had returned; his face resumed its natural +color; his eyes their normal expression--that of cold +indifference. + +"Mr. Burroughs," he said quietly, "you must be insane." + +"That is no answer to my accusations," I stormed. "I tell you of +the most conclusive evidence against yourself, and instead of any +attempt to refute it you mildly remark, `you are insane.' It is +you who are insane, Mr. Hall, if you think you can escape arrest +and trial for the murder of Joseph Crawford." + +"Oh, I think I can," was his only answer, with that maddening +little smile of his. + +"Then where were you on Tuesday night?" + +"Excuse me?" + +"Where were you on Tuesday night?" + +"That I refuse to tell--as I have refused before, and shall +always refuse." + +"Because you were here, and because you have too much wisdom to +try to prove a false alibi." + +He looked at me half admiringly. "You are right in that," he +said. "It is extremely foolish for any one to fake an alibi, and +I certainly never should try to do so." + +"That's how I know you were here," I replied triumphantly. + +"You do, do you? Well, Mr. Burroughs, I don't pretend to +misunderstand you--for Miss Lloyd has told me all about Mrs. +Cunningham and her bag that she left in the train. But I will +say this if you think I came out on that midnight train, go and +ask the conductor. He knows me, and as I often do come out on +that train, he may remember that I was not on it that night. And +while you're about it, and since you consider that late newspaper +a clue, also ask him who was on the train that might have come +here afterward." + +If this was bluffing, it was a very clever bluff, and +magnificently carried out. Probably his hope was that the +conductor could not say definitely as to Hall's presence on the +late train, and any other names he might mention would only +complicate matters. + +But before I left I made one more attempt to get at this man's +secret. + +"Mr. Hall," I began, "I am not unfriendly. In fact, for Miss +Lloyd's sake as well as your own, I should like to remove every +shadow of suspicion that hovers near either or both of you." + +"I know that," he said quickly. "Don't think I can't see through +your `friendliness' to Miss Lloyd! But be careful there, Mr. +Burroughs. A man does not allow too many `friendly' glances +toward the girl he is engaged to." + +So he had discovered my secret! Well, perhaps it was a good +thing. Now I could fight for Florence more openly if necessary. + +"You are right, Mr. Hall," I went on. "I hold Miss Lloyd in very +high esteem, and I assure you, as man to man, that so long as you +and she are betrothed, neither of you will have cause to look on +me as other than a detective earnest in his work in your behalf." + +"Thank you," said Hall, a little taken aback by my frankness. + +I went away soon after that, and without quizzing him any +further, for, though I still suspected him, I realized that he +would never say anything to incriminate himself. + +The theory that the criminal was some one who came in on that +midnight train was plausible indeed; but what a scope it offered! + +Why, a total stranger to Sedgwick might have come and gone, +entirely unobserved, in the crowd. + +It was with little hope, therefore, that I arranged for an +interview with the conductor of the train. + +He lived in Hunterton, a few stations from West Sedgwick, and, +after ascertaining by telephone that he could see me the next +day, I went to his house. + +"Well, no," he replied, after thinking over my query a bit; "I +don't think Mr. Hall came out from New York that night. I'm +'most sure he didn't, because he usually gives me his newspaper +as he steps off the train, and I didn't get any `extra' that +night." + +Of course this wasn't positive proof that Hall wasn't there, so I +asked him to tell me all the West Sedgwick people that he did +remember as being on his train that night. + +He mentioned a dozen or more, but they were nearly all names +unknown to me. + +"Do you remember the Cunninghams being on the train?" I asked. + +"Those Marathon Park people? Oh, yes. They were a gay party,-- +coming back from a theatre supper, I suppose. And that reminds +me: Philip Crawford sat right behind the Cunninghams. I forgot +him before. Well, I guess that's all the West Sedgwick people I +can remember." + +I went away not much the wiser, but with a growing thought that +buzzed in my brain. + +It was absurd, of course. But he had said Philip Crawford had +sat right behind Mrs. Cunningham. How, then, could he help +seeing the gold bag she left behind, when she got out at the +station just before West Sedgwick? Indeed, who else could have +seen it but the man in the seat directly behind? Even if some +one else had picked it up and carried it from the car, Mr. +Crawford must have seen it. + +Moreover, why hadn't he said he was on that train? Why conceal +such a simple matter? Again, who had profited by the whole +affair? And why had Gregory Hall said: "Ask the conductor who +did get off that train?" + +The rose petals were already explained by Florence. If, then, +Philip Crawford had, much later, come to his brother's with the +gold bag and the late newspaper, and had gone away and left them +there, and had never told of all this, was there not a new +direction in which to look? + +But Philip Crawford! The dead man's own brother! + + + + +XIX + +THE MIDNIGHT TRAIN + + +The enormity of suspecting Philip Crawford was so great, to my +mind, that I went at once to the district attorney's office for +consultation with him. + +Mr. Goodrich listened to what I had to say, and then, when I +waited for comment, said quietly: + +"Do you know, Mr. Burroughs, I have thought all along that Philip +Crawford was concealing something, but I didn't think, and don't +think now, that he has any guilty secret of his own. I rather +fancied he might know something that, if told, would be +detrimental to Miss Lloyd's cause." + +"It may be so," I returned, "but I can't see how that would make +him conceal the fact of his having been on that late train +Tuesday night. Why, I discussed with him the possibility of +Hall's coming out on it, and it would have been only natural to +say he was on it, and didn't see Hall." + +"Unless he did see him," remarked the district attorney. + +"Yes; there's that possibility. He may be shielding Hall for +Miss Lloyd's sake--and--" + +"Let's go to see him," suggested Mr. Goodrich. "I believe in the +immediate following up of any idea we may have." + +It was about five in the afternoon, an hour when we were likely +to find Mr. Crawford at home, so we started off at once, and on +reaching his house we were told that Mr. Randolph was with him in +the library, but that he would see us. So to the library we +went, and found Mr. Crawford and his lawyer hard at work on the +papers of the Joseph Crawford estate. + +Perhaps it was imagination, but I thought I detected a look of +apprehension on Philip Crawford's face, as we entered, but he +greeted us in his pleasant, simple way, and asked us to be +seated. + +"To come right to the point, Mr. Crawford," said the district +attorney, "Mr. Burroughs and I are still searching for new light +on the tragedy of your brother's death. And now Mr. Burroughs +wants to put a few questions to you, which may help him in his +quest." + +Philip Crawford looked straight at me with his piercing eyes, and +it seemed to me that he straightened himself, as for an expected +blow. + +"Yes, Mr. Burroughs," he said courteously. "What is it you want +to ask?" + +So plain and straightforward was his manner, that I decided to be +equally direct. + +"Did you come out in that midnight train from New York last +Tuesday night?" I began. + +"I did," he replied, in even tones. + +"While on the train did you sit behind a lady who left a gold bag +in the seat when she got out?" + +"I did." + +"Did you pick up that bag and take it away with you?" + +"I did." + +"Then, Mr. Crawford, as that is the gold bag that was found in +your brother's office, I think you owe a more detailed +explanation." + +To say that the lawyer and the district attorney, who heard these +questions and answers, were astounded, is putting it too mildly. +They were almost paralyzed with surprise and dismay. + +To hear these condemning assertions straight from the lips of the +man they incriminated was startling indeed. + +"You are right," said Philip Crawford. "I do owe an explanation, +and I shall give it here and now." + +Although what he was going to say was doubtless a confession, Mr. +Crawford's face showed an unmistakable expression of relief. He +seemed like a man who had borne a terrible secret around with him +for the past week, and was now glad that he was about to impart +it to some one else. + +He spoke very gravely, but with no faltering or hesitation. + +"This is a solemn confession," he said, turning to his lawyer, +"and is made to the district attorney, with yourself and Mr. +Burroughs as witnesses." + +Mr. Randolph bowed his head, in acknowledgment of this formal +statement. + +"I am a criminal in the eyes of the law," said Mr. Crawford, in +an impersonal tone, which I knew he adopted to hide any emotion +he might feel. "I have committed a dastardly crime. But I am +not the murderer of my brother Joseph." + +We all felt our hearts lightened of a great load, for it was +impossible to disbelieve that calm statement and the clear gaze +of those truthful, unafraid eyes. + +"The story I have to tell will sound as if I might have been my +brother's slayer, and this is why I assert the contrary at the +outset." + +Pausing here, Mr. Crawford unlocked the drawer of a desk and took +out a small pistol, which he laid on the table. + +"That," he said, "is my revolver, and it is the weapon with which +my brother was killed." + +I felt a choking sensation. Philip Crawford's manner was so far +removed from a sensational--or melodramatic effect, that it was +doubly impressive. I believed his statement that he did not kill +his brother, but what could these further revelations mean? +Hall? Florence? Young Philip? Whom would Philip Crawford thus +shield for a whole week, and then, when forced to do so, expose? + +"You are making strange declarations, Mr. Crawford," said Lawyer +Randolph, who was already white-faced and trembling. + +"I know it," went on Philip Crawford, "and I trust you three men +will hear my story through, and then take such measures as you +see fit. + +"This pistol, as I said, is my property. Perhaps about a month +ago, I took it over to my brother Joseph. He has always been +careless of danger, and as he was in the habit of sitting in his +office until very late, with the long windows open on a dark +veranda, I often told him he ought to keep a weapon in his desk, +by way of general protection. Then, after there had been a +number of burglaries in West Sedgwick, I took this pistol to him, +and begged him as a favor to me to let it stay in his desk drawer +as a precautionary measure. He laughed at my solicitude, but put +it away in a drawer, the upper right-hand one, among his business +papers. So much for the pistol. + +"Last Tuesday night I came out from New York on that midnight +train that reaches West Sedgwick station at one o'clock. In the +train I did not notice especially who sat near me, but when I +reached our station and started to leave the car, I noticed a +gold bag in the seat ahead. I picked it up, and, with a half- +formed intention of handing it to the conductor, I left the +train. But as I stepped off I did not see the conductor, and, +though I looked about for him, he did not appear, and the train +moved on. I looked in the station, but the ticket agent was not +visible, and as the hour was so late I slipped the bag into my +pocket, intending to hand it over to the railroad authorities +next morning. In fact, I thought little about it, for I was very +much perturbed over some financial considerations. I had been +reading my newspaper all the way out, from the city. It was an +`extra,' with the account of the steamship accident." + +Here Mr. Crawford looked at me, as much as to say, "There's your +precious newspaper clue," but his manner was indicative only of +sadness and grief; he had no cringing air as of a murderer. + +"However, I merely skimmed the news about the steamer, so +interested was I in they stock market reports. I needn't now +tell the details, but I knew that Joseph had a `corner' in X.Y. +stock. I was myself a heavy investor in it, and I began to +realize that I must see Joseph at once, and learn his intended +actions for the next day. If he threw his stock on the market, +there would be a drop of perhaps ten points and I should be a +large loser, if, indeed, I were not entirely wiped out. So I +went from the train straight to my brother's home. When I +reached the gate, I saw there was a low light in his office, so I +went round that way, instead of to the front door. As I neared +the veranda, and went up the steps, I drew from my overcoat +pocket the newspaper, and, feeling the gold bag there also, I +drew that out, thinking to show it to Joseph. As I look back +now, I think it occurred to me that the bag might be Florence's; +I had seen her carry one like it. But, as you can readily +understand, I gave no coherent thought to the bag, as my mind was +full of the business matter. The French window was open, and I +stepped inside." + +Mr. Crawford paused here, but he gave way to no visible emotion. +Ile was like a man with an inexorable duty to perform, and no +wish to stop until it was finished. + +But truth was stamped unmistakably in every word and every look. + +"Only the desk light was turned on, but that gave light enough +for me to see my brother sitting dead in his chair. I satisfied +myself that he was really dead, and then, in a sort of daze, I +looked about the room. Though I felt benumbed and half +unconscious, physically, my thoughts worked rapidly. On the desk +before him I saw his will." + +An irrepressible exclamation from Mr. Randolph was the only sound +that greeted this astonishing statement. + +"Yes," and Mr. Crawford took a document from the same drawer +whence he had taken the pistol; "there is Joseph Crawford's will, +leaving all his property to Florence Lloyd." + +Mechanically, Mr. Randolph took the paper his client passed to +him, and, after a glance at it, laid it on the table in front of +him. + +"That was my crime," said Philip Crawford solemnly, "and I thank +God that I can confess it and make restitution. I must have been +suddenly possessed of a devil of greed, for the moment I saw that +will, I knew that if I took it away the property would be mine, +and I would then run no danger of being ruined by my stock +speculations. I had a dim feeling that I should eventually give +all, or a large part, of the fortune to Florence, but at the +moment I was obsessed by evil, and I--I stole my brother's +will." + +It was an honest confession of an awful crime. But under the +spell of that strong, low voice, and the upright bearing of that +impressive figure, we could not, at the moment, condemn; we could +only listen and wait. + +"Then," the speaker proceeded, "I was seized with the terrific, +unreasoning fear that I dare say always besets a malefactor. I +had but one thought, to get away, and leave the murder to be +discovered by some one else. In a sort of subconscious effort at +caution, I took my pistol, lest it prove incriminating evidence +against me, but in my mad frenzy of fear, I gave no thought to +the gold bag or the newspaper. I came home, secreted the will +and the revolver, and ever since I have had no doubts as to the +existence of a hell. A thousand times I have been on the point +of making this confession, and even had it not been brought about +as it has, I must have given way soon. No mortal could stand out +long under the pressure of remorse and regret that has been on me +this past week. Now, gentlemen, I have told you all. The action +you may take in this matter must be of your own choosing. But, +except for the stigma of past sin, I stand again before the +world, with no unconfessed crime upon my conscience. I stole the +will; I have restored it. But my hands are clean of the blood of +my brother, and I am now free to add my efforts to yours to find +the criminal and avenge the crime." + +He had not raised his voice above those low, even tones in which +he had started his recital; he had made no bid for leniency of +judgment; but, to a man, his three hearers rose and held out +friendly hands to him as he finished his story. + +"Thank you," he said simply, as he accepted this mute token of +our belief in his word. "I am gratified at your kindly attitude, +but I realize, none the less, what this will all mean for me. +Not only myself but my innocent family must share my disgrace. +However, that is part of the wrongdoer's punishment--that +results fall not only on his own head, but on the heads and +hearts of his loved ones." + +"Mr. Goodrich," said Mr. Randolph, "I don't know how you look +upon this matter from your official viewpoint, but unless you +deem it necessary, I should think that this confidence of Mr. +Crawford's need never be given to the public. May we not simply +state that the missing will has been found, without any further +disclosures?" + +"I am not asking for any such consideration," said Philip +Crawford. "If you decide upon such a course, it will be entirely +of your own volition." + +The district attorney hesitated. + +"Speaking personally," he said, at last, "I may say that I place +full credence in Mr. Crawford's story. I am entirely convinced +of the absolute truth of all his statements. But, speaking +officially, I may say that in a court of justice witnesses would +be required, who could corroborate his words." + +"But such witnesses are manifestly impossible to procure," said +Mr. Randolph. + +"Certainly they are," I agreed, "and I should like to make this +suggestion: Believing, as we do, in Mr. Crawford's story, it +becomes important testimony in the case. Now, if it were made +public, it would lose its importance, for it would set ignorant +tongues wagging, and give rise to absurd and untrue theories, and +result in blocking our best-meant efforts. So I propose that we +keep the matter to ourselves for a time--say a week or a +fortnight--keeping Mr. Crawford under surveillance, if need be. +Then we can work on the case, with the benefit of the suggestions +offered by Mr. Crawford's revelations; and I, for one, think such +benefit of immense importance." + +"That will do," said Mr. Goodrich, whose troubled face had +cleared at my suggestion. "You are quite right, Mr. Burroughs. +And the `surveillance' will be a mere empty formality. For a man +who has confessed as Mr. Crawford has done, is not going to run +away from the consequences of his confession." + +"I am not," said Mr. Crawford. "And I am grateful for this +respite from unpleasant publicity. I will take my punishment +when it comes, but I feel with Mr. Burroughs that more progress +can be made if what I have told you is not at once generally +known." + +"Where now does suspicion point?" + +It was Mr. Randolph who spoke. His legal mind had already gone +ahead of the present occasion, and was applying the new facts to +the old theories. + +"To Gregory Hall," said the district attorney. + +"Wait," said I. "If Mr. Crawford left the bag and the newspaper +in the office, we have no evidence whatever that Mr. Hall came +out on that late train." + +"Nor did he need to," said Mr. Goodrich, who was thinking +rapidly. "He might have come on an earlier train, or, for that +matter, not by train at all. He may have come out from town in a +motor car." + +This was possible; but it did not seem to me probable. A motor +car was a conspicuous way for a man to come out from New York and +return, if he wished to keep his visit secret. Still, he could +have left the car at some distance from the house, and walked the +rest of the way. + +"Did Mr. Hall know that a revolver was kept in Mr. Crawford's +desk drawer?" I asked. + +"He did," replied Philip Crawford. "He was present when I took +my pistol over to Joseph." + +"Then," said Mr. Goodrich, "the case looks to me very serious +against Mr. Hall. We have proved his motive, his opportunity, +and his method, or, rather, means, of committing the crime. Add +to this his unwillingness to tell where he was on Tuesday night, +and I see sufficient justification for issuing a warrant for his +arrest." + +"I don't know," said Philip Crawford, "whether such immediate +measures are advisable. I don't want to influence you, Mr. +Goodrich, but suppose we see Mr. Hall, and question him a little. +Then, if it seems to you best, arrest him." + +"That is a good suggestion, Mr. Crawford," said the district +attorney. "We can have a sort of court of inquiry by ourselves, +and perhaps Mr. Hall will, by his own words, justify or relieve +our suspicions." + +I went away from Mr. Crawford's house, and went straight to +Florence Lloyd's. I did this almost involuntarily. Perhaps if I +had stopped to think, I might have realized that it did not +devolve upon me to tell her of Philip Crawford's confession. But +I wanted to tell her myself, because I hoped that from her manner +of hearing the story I could learn something. I still believed +that in trying to shield Hall, she had not yet been entirely +frank with me, and at any rate, I wanted to be the one to tell +her of the important recent discovery. + +When I arrived, I found Mr. Porter in the library talking with +Florence. At first I hesitated about telling my story before +him, and then I remembered that he was one of the best of +Florence's friends and advisers, and moreover a man of sound +judgment and great perspicacity. Needless to say, they were both +amazed and almost stunned by the recital, and it was some time +before they could take in the situation in all its bearings. We +had a long, grave conversation, for the three of us were not +influenced so much by the sensationalness of this new +development, as by the question of whither it led. Of course the +secret was as safe with these two, as with those of us who had +heard it directly from Philip Crawford's lips. + +"I understand Philip Crawford's action," said Mr. Porter, very +seriously. "In the first place he was not quite himself, owing +to the sudden shock of seeing his brother dead before his eyes. +Also the sight of his own pistol, with which the deed had +evidently been committed, unnerved him. It was an almost +unconscious nervous action which made him take the pistol, and it +was a sort of subconscious mental working that resulted in his +abstracting the will. Had he been in full possession of his +brain faculty, he could not have done either. He did wrong, of +course, but he has made full restitution, and his wrong-doing +should not only be forgiven but forgotten." + +I looked at Mr. Porter in unfeigned admiration. Truly he had +expressed noble sentiments, and his must be a broadly noble +nature that could show such a spirit toward his fellow man. + +Florence, too, gave him an appreciative glance, but her mind +seemed to be working on the possibilities of the new evidence. + +"Then it would seem," she said slowly, "that as I, myself, was in +Uncle's office at about eleven o'clock, and as Uncle Philip was +there a little after one o'clock, whoever killed Uncle Joseph +came and went away between those hours." + +"Yes," I said, and I knew that her thoughts had flown to Gregory +Hall. "But I think there are no trains in and out again of West +Sedgwick between those hours." + +"He need not have come in a train," said Florence slowly, as if +simply voicing her thoughts. + +"Don't attempt to solve the mystery, Florence," said Mr. Porter +in his decided way. "Leave that for those who make it their +business. Mr. Burroughs, I am sure, will do all he can, and it +is not for you to trouble your already sad heart with these +anxieties. Give it up, my girl, for it means only useless +exertion on your part." + +"And on my part too, I fear, Mr. Porter," I said. "Without +wishing to shirk my duty, I can't help feeling I'm up against a +problem that to me is insoluble. It is my desire, since the case +is baffling, to call in talent of a higher order. Fleming Stone, +for instance." + +Mr. Porter gave me a sudden glance, and it was a glance I could +not understand. For an instant it seemed to me that he showed +fear, and this thought was instantly followed by the impression +that he feared for Florence. And then I chid myself for my +foolish heart that made every thought that entered my brain lead +to Florence Lloyd. With my mind in this commotion I scarcely +heard Mr. Porter's words. + +"No, no," he was saying, "we need no other or cleverer detective +than you, Mr. Burroughs. If, as Florence says, the murderer was +clever enough to come between those two hours, and go away again, +leaving no sign, he is probably clever enough so to conceal his +coming and going that he may not be traced." + +"But, Mr. Porter," I observed, "they say murder will out." + +Again that strange look came into his eyes. Surely it was an +expression of fear. But he only said, "Then you're the man to +bring that result about, Mr. Burroughs. I have great confidence +in your powers as a detective." + +He took his leave, and I was not sorry, for I wanted an +opportunity to see Florence alone. + +"I am so sorry," she said, and for the first time I saw tears in +her dear, beautiful eyes, "to hear that about Uncle Philip. But +Mr. Porter was right, he was not himself, or he never could have +done it." + +"It was an awful thing for him to find his brother as he did, and +go away and leave him so." + +"Awful, indeed! But the Crawfords have always been strange in +their ways. I have never seen one of them show emotion or +sentiment upon any occasion." + +"Now you are again an heiress," I said, suddenly realizing the +fact. + +"Yes," she said, but her tone indicated that her fortune brought +in its train many perplexing troubles and many grave questions. + +"Forgive me," I began, "if I am unwarrantably intrusive, but I +must say this. Affairs are so changed now, that new dangers and +troubles may arise for you. If I can help you in any way, will +you let me do so? Will you confide in me and trust me, and will +you remember that in so doing you are not putting yourself under +the slightest obligation?" + +She looked at me very earnestly for a moment, and then without +replying directly to my questions, she said in a low tone, "You +are the very best friend I have ever had." + +"Florence!" I cried; but even as she had spoken, she had gone +softly out of the room, and with a quiet joy in my heart, I went +away. + +That afternoon I was summoned to Mr. Philip Crawford's house to +be present at the informal court of inquiry which was to +interrogate Gregory Hall. + +Hall was summoned by telephone, and not long after he arrived. +He was cool and collected, as usual, and I wondered if even his +arrest would disturb his calm. + +"We are pursuing the investigation of Mr. Joseph Crawford's +death, Mr. Hall," the district attorney began, "and we wish, in +the course of our inquiries, to ask some questions of you." + +"Certainly, sir," said Gregory Hall, with an air of polite +indifference. + +"And I may as well tell you at the outset," went on Mr. Goodrich, +a little irritated at the young man's attitude, "that you, Mr. +Hall, are under suspicion." + +"Yes?" said Hall interrogatively. "But I was not here that +night." + +"That's just the point, sir. You say you were not here, but you +refuse to say where you were. Now, wherever you may have been +that night, a frank admission of it will do you less harm than +this incriminating concealment of the truth." + +"In that case," said Hall easily, "I suppose I may as well tell +you. But first, since you practically accuse me, may I ask if +any new developments have been brought to light?" + +"One has," said Mr. Goodrich. "The missing will has been found." + +"What?" cried Hall, unable to conceal his satisfaction at this +information. + +"Yes," said Mr. Goodrich coldly, disgusted at the plainly +apparent mercenary spirit of the man; "yes, the will of Mr. +Joseph Crawford, which bequeaths the bulk of his estate to Miss +Lloyd, is safe in Mr. Randolph's possession. But that fact in no +way affects your connection with the case, or our desire to learn +where you were on Tuesday night." + +"Pardon me, Mr. Goodrich; I didn't hear all that you said." + +Bluffing again, thought I; and, truly, it seemed to me rather a +clever way to gain time for consideration, and yet let his +answers appear spontaneous. + +The district attorney repeated his question, and now Gregory Hall +answered deliberately + +"I still refuse to tell you where I was. It in no way affects +the case; it is a private matter of my own. I was in New York +City from the time I left West Sedgwick at six o'clock on Monday, +until I returned the next morning. Further than that I will give +no account of my doings." + +"Then we must assume you were engaged in some occupation of which +you are ashamed to tell." + +Hall shrugged his shoulders. "You may assume what you choose," +he said. "I was not here, I had no hand in Mr. Crawford's death, +and knew nothing of it until my return next day." + +"You knew Mr. Crawford kept a revolver in his desk. You must +know it is not there now." + +Hall looked troubled. + +"I know nothing about that revolver," he said. "I saw it the day +Mr. Philip Crawford brought it there, but I have never seen it +since." + +This sounded honest enough, but if he were the criminal, he +would, of course, make these same avowals. + +"Well, Mr. Hall," said the district attorney, with an air of +finality, "we suspect you. We hold that you had motive, +opportunity, and means for this crime. Therefore, unless you can +prove an alibi for Tuesday night, and bring witnesses to grove +where you, were, we must arrest you, on suspicion, for the murder +of Joseph Crawford." + +Gregory Hall deliberated silently for a few moments, then he +said: + +"I am innocent. But I persist in my refusal to allow intrusion +on my private and personal affairs. Arrest me if you will, but +you will yet learn your mistake." + +I can never explain it, even to myself, but something in the +man's tone and manner convinced me, even against my own will, +that he spoke the truth. + + + +XX + +FLEMING STONE + + +The news of Gregory Hall's arrest flew through the town like +wildfire. + +That evening I went to call on Florence Lloyd, though I had +little hope that she would see me. + +To my surprise, however, she welcomed me almost eagerly, and, +though I knew she wanted to see me only for what legal help I +might give her, I was glad even of this. + +And yet her manner was far from impersonal. Indeed, she showed a +slight embarrassment in my presence, which, if I had dared, I +should have been glad to think meant a growing interest in our +friendship. + +"You have heard all?" I asked, knowing from her manner that she +had. + +"Yes," she replied; "Mr. Hall was here for dinner, and then-- +then he went away to--" + +"To prison," I finished quietly. "Florence, I cannot think he is +the murderer of your uncle." + +If she noticed this, my first use of her Christian name, she +offered no remonstrance, and I went on + +"To be sure, they have proved that he had motive, means, +opportunity, and all that, but it is only indefinite evidence. +If he would but tell where he was on Tuesday night, he could so +easily free himself. Why will he not tell?" + +"I don't know," she said, looking thoughtful. "But I cannot +think he was here, either. When he said good-by to me to-night, +he did not seem at all apprehensive. He only said he was +arrested wrongfully, and that he would soon be set free again. +You know his way of taking everything casually." + +"Yes, I do. And now that you are your uncle's heiress, I suppose +he no longer wishes to break the engagement between you and him." + +I said this bitterly, for I loathed the nature that could thus +turn about in accordance with the wheel of fortune. + +To my surprise, she too spoke bitterly. + +"Yes," she said; "he insists now that we are engaged, and that he +never really wanted to break it. He has shown me positively that +it is my money that attracts him, and if it were not that I don't +want to seem to desert him now, when he is in trouble--" + +She paused, and my heart beat rapidly. Could it be that at last +she saw Gregory Hall as he really was, and that his mercenary +spirit had killed her love for him? At least, she had intimated +this, and, forcing myself to be content with that for the +present, I said: + +"Would you, then, if you could, get him out of this trouble?" + +"Gladly. I do not think he killed Uncle Joseph, but I'm sure I +do not know who did. Do you?" + +"I haven't the least idea," I answered honestly, for there, in +Florence Lloyd's presence, gazing into the depths of her clear +eyes, my last, faint suspicion of her wrong-doing faded away. +"And it is this total lack of suspicion that makes the case so +simple, and therefore so difficult. A more complicated case +offers some points on which to build a theory. I do not blame +Mr. Goodrich for suspecting Mr. Hall, for there seems to be no +one else to suspect." + +Just then Mr. Lemuel Porter dropped in for an evening call. Of +course, we talked over the events of the day, and Mr. Porter was +almost vehement in his denunciation of the sudden move of the +district attorney. + +"It's absurd," he said, "utterly absurd. Gregory Hall never did +the thing. I've known Hall for years, and he isn't that sort of +a man. I believe Philip Crawford's story, of course, but the +murderer, who came into the office after Florence's visit to her +uncle, and before Philip arrived, was some stranger from out of +town--some man whom none of us know; who had some grievance +against Joseph, and who deliberately came and went during that +midnight hour." + +I agreed with Mr. Porter. I had thought all along it was some +one unknown to the Sedgwick people, but some one well known to +Joseph Crawford. For, had it been an ordinary burglar, the +victim would at least have raised a protecting hand. + +"Of course Hall will be set free at once," continued Mr. Porter, +"but to arrest him was a foolish thing to do." + +"Still, he ought to prove his alibi," I said. + +"Very well, then; make him prove it. Give him the third degree, +if necessary, and find out where he was on Tuesday night." + +"I doubt if they could get it out of him," I observed, "if he +continues determined not to tell." + +"Then he deserves his fate," said Mr. Porter, a little +petulantly. "He can free himself by a word. If he refuses to do +so it's his own business." + +"But I'd like to help him," said Florence, almost timidly. "Is +there no way I can do so, Mr. Burroughs?" + +"Indeed there is," I said. "You are a rich woman now; use some +of your wealth to employ the services of Fleming Stone, and I can +assure you the truth will be discovered." + +"Indeed I will," said Florence. "Please send for him at once." + +"Nonsense!" said Mr. Porter. "It isn't necessary at all. Mr. +Burroughs here, and young Parmalee, are all the detectives we +need. Get Hall to free himself, as he can easily do, and then +set to work in earnest to run down the real villain." + +"No, Mr. Porter," said Florence, with firmness; "Gregory will not +tell his secret, whatever it is. I know his stubborn nature. +He'll stay in prison until he's freed, as he is sure he will be, +but he won't tell what he has determined not to divulge. No, I +am glad I can do something definite at last toward avenging Uncle +Joseph's death. Please send for Mr. Stone, Mr. Burroughs, and I +will gladly pay his fees and expenses." Mr. Porter expostulated +further, but to no avail. Florence insisted on sending for the +great detective. + +So I sent for him. + +He came two days later, and in the interval nothing further had +been learned from Gregory Hall. The man was an enigma to me. He +was calm and impassive as ever. Courteous, though never cordial, +and apparently without the least apprehension of ever being +convicted for the crime which had caused his arrest. + +Indeed, he acted just as an innocent man would act; innocent of +the murder, that is, but resolved to conceal his whereabouts of +Tuesday night, whatever that resolve might imply. + +To me, it did not imply crime. Something he wished to conceal, +certainly; but I could not think a criminal would act so. A +criminal is usually ready with an alibi, whether it can be proved +or not. + +When Fleming Stone arrived I met him at the station and took him +at once to the inn, where I had engaged rooms for him. + +We first had a long conversation alone, in which I told him, +everything I knew concerning the murder. + +"When did it happen?" he asked, for, though he had read some of +the newspaper accounts, the date had escaped him. + +I told him, and added, "Why, I was called here just after I left +you at the Metropolis Hotel that morning. Don't you remember, +you deduced a lot of information from a pair of shoes which were +waiting to be cleaned?" + +"Yes, I remember," said Stone, smiling a little at the +recollection. + +"And I tried to make similar deductions from the gold bag and the +newspaper, but I couldn't do it. I bungled matters every time. +My deductions are mostly from the witnesses' looks or tones when +giving evidence." + +"On the stand?" + +"Not necessarily on the stand. I've learned much from talking to +the principals informally." + +"And where do your suspicions point?" + +"Nowhere. I've suspected Florence Lloyd and Gregory Hall, in +turn, and in collusion; but now I suspect neither of them." + +"Why not Hall?" + +"His manner is too frank and unconcerned." + +"A good bluff for a criminal to use." + +"Then he won't tell where he was that night." + +"If he is the murderer, he can't tell. A false alibi is so +easily riddled. It's rather clever to keep doggedly silent; but +what does he say is his reason?" + +"He won't give any reason. He has determined to keep up that +calm, indifferent pose, and though it is aggravating, I must +admit it serves his purpose well." + +"How did they find him the morning after the murder?" + +"Let me see; I believe the coroner said he telephoned first to +Hall's club. But the steward said Hall didn't stay there, as +there was no vacant room, and that he had stayed all night at a +hotel." + +"What hotel?" + +"I don't know. The coroner asked the steward, but he didn't +know." + +"Didn't he find out from Hall, afterward?" + +"I don't know, Stone; perhaps the coroner asked him, but if he +did, I doubt if Hall told. It didn't seem to me important." + +"Burroughs, my son, you should have learned every detail of +Hall's doings that night." + +"But if he were not in West Sedgwick, what difference could it +possibly make where he was?" + +"One never knows what difference anything will make until the +difference is made. That's oracular, but it means more than it +sounds. However, go on." + +I went on, and I even told him what Florence had told me +concerning the possibility of Hall's interest in another woman. + +"At last we are getting to it," said Stone; "why in the name of +all good detectives, didn't you hunt up that other woman?" + +"But she is perhaps only a figment of Miss Lloyd's brain." + +"Figments of the brains of engaged young ladies are apt to have a +solid foundation of flesh and blood. I think much could be +learned concerning Mr. Hall's straying fancy. But tell me again +about his attitude toward Miss Lloyd, in the successive +developments of the will question." + +Fleming Stone was deeply interested as I rehearsed how, when +Florence was supposed to be penniless, he wished to break the +engagement. When Philip Crawford offered to provide for her, Mr. +Hall was uncertain; but when the will was found, and Florence was +known to inherit all her uncle's property, then Gregory Hall not +only held her to the engagement, but said he had never wished to +break it. + +"H'm," said Stone. "Pretty clear that the young man is a +fortune-hunter." + +"He is," I agreed. "I felt sure of that from the first." + +"And he is now under arrest, calmly waiting for some one to prove +his innocence, so he can marry the heiress." + +"That's about the size of it," I said. "But I don't think +Florence is quite as much in love with him as she was. She seems +to have realized his mercenary spirit." + +Perhaps an undue interest in my voice or manner disclosed to this +astute man the state of my own affections, for he gave me a +quizzical glance, and said, "O-ho! sits the wind in that +quarter?" + +"Yes," I said, determined to be frank with him. "It does. I +want you, to free Gregory Hall, if he's innocent. Then if, for +any reason, Miss Lloyd sees fit to dismiss him, I shall most +certainly try to win her affections. As I came to this +determination when she was supposed to be penniless, I can +scarcely be accused of fortune-hunting myself." + +"Indeed, you can't, old chap. You're not that sort. Well, let's +go to see your district attorney and his precious prisoner, and +see what's to be done." + +We went to the district attorney's office, and, later, +accompanied by him and by Mr. Randolph, we visited Gregory Hall. + +As I had expected, Mr. Hall wore the same unperturbed manner he +always showed, and when Fleming Stone was introduced, Hall +greeted him coldly, with absolutely no show of interest in the +man or his work. + +Fleming Stone's own kindly face took on a slight expression of +hauteur, as he noticed his reception, but he said, pleasantly +enough + +"I am here in an effort to aid in establishing your innocence, +Mr. Hall." + +"I beg your pardon?" said Hall listlessly. + +I wondered whether this asking to have a remark repeated was +merely a foolish habit of Hall's, or whether, as I had heretofore +guessed, it was a ruse to gain time. + +Fleming Stone looked at him a little more sharply as he repeated +his remark in clear, even tones. + +"Thank you," said Hall, pleasantly enough. "I shall be glad to +be free from this unjust suspicion." + +"And as a bit of friendly advice," went on Stone, "I strongly +urge that you, reveal to us, confidentially, where you were on +Tuesday night." + +Hall looked the speaker straight in the eye. + +"That," he said, "I must still refuse to do." + +Fleming Stone rose and walked toward the window. + +"I think," he said, "the proof of your innocence may depend upon +this point." + +Gregory Hall turned his head, and followed Stone with his eyes. + +"What did you say, Mr. Stone?" he asked quietly. + +The detective returned to his seat. + +"I said," he replied, "that the proof of your innocence might +depend on your telling this secret of yours. But I begin to +think now you will be freed from suspicion whether you tell it or +not." + +Instead of looking glad at this assurance, Gregory Hall gave a +start, and an expression of fear came into his eyes. + +"What do you mean?" he said + +"Have you any letters in your pocket, Mr. Hall?" went on Fleming +Stone in a suave voice. + +"Yes; several. Why?" + +"I do not ask to read them. Merely show me the lot." + +With what seemed to be an unwilling but enforced movement, Mr. +Hall drew four or five letters from his breast pocket and handed +them to Fleming Stone. + +"They've all been looked over, Mr. Stone," said the district +attorney; "and they have no bearing on the matter of the crime." + +"Oh, I don't want to read them," said the detective. + +He ran over the lot carelessly, not taking the sheets from the +envelopes, and returned them to their owner. + +Gregory Hall looked at him as if fascinated. What revelation was +this man about to make? + +"Mr. Hall," Fleming Stone began, "I've no intention of forcing +your secret from you. But I shall ask you some questions, and +you may do as you like about answering them. First, you refuse +to tell where you were during the night last Tuesday. I take it, +you mean you refuse to tell how or where you spent the evening. +Now, will you tell us where you lodged that night?" + +"I fail to see any reason for telling you," answered Hall, after +a moment's thought. "I have said I was in New York City, that is +enough." + +"The reason you may as well tell us," went on Mr. Stone, "is +because it is a very simple matter for us to find out. You +doubtless were at some hotel, and you went there because you +could not get a room at your club. In fact, this was stated when +the coroner telephoned for you, the morning after the murder. I +mean, it was stated that the club bed-rooms were all occupied. I +assume, therefore, that you lodged at some hotel, and, as a +canvass of the city hotels would be a simple matter, you may as +well save us that trouble." + +"Oh, very well," said Gregory Hall sullenly; "then I did spend +the night at a hotel. It was the Metropolis Hotel, and you will +find my name duly on the register." + +"I have no doubt of it," said Stone pleasantly. "Now that you +have told us this, have you any objection to telling us at what +time you returned to the hotel, after your evening's occupation, +whatever it may have been?" + +"Eh?" said Hall abstractedly. He turned his head as he spoke, +and Fleming Stone threw me a quizzical smile which I didn't in +the least understand. + +"You may as well tell us," said Stone, after he had repeated his +question, "for if you withhold it, the night clerk can give us +this information." + +"Well," said Hall, who now looked distinctly sulky, "I don't +remember exactly, but I think I turned in somewhere between +twelve and one o'clock." + +"And as it was a late hour, you slept rather late next morning," +suggested Stone. + +"Oh, I don't know. I was at Mr. Crawford's New York office by +half-past ten." + +"A strange coincidence, Burroughs," said Fleming Stone, turning +to me. + +"Eh? Beg pardon?" said Hall, turning his head also. + +"Mr. Hall," said Stone, suddenly facing him again, "are you deaf? +Why do you ask to have remarks repeated?" + +Hall looked slightly apologetic. "I am a little deaf," he said; +"but only in one ear. And only at times--or, rather, it's worse +at times. If I have a cold, for instance." + +"Or in damp weather?" said Stone. "Mr. Hall, I have questioned +you enough. I will now tell these gentlemen, since you refuse to +do so, where you were on the night of Mr. Crawford's murder. You +were not in West Sedgwick, or near it. You are absolutely +innocent of the crime or any part in it." + +Gregory Hall straightened up perceptibly, like a man exonerated +from all blame. But he quailed again, as Fleming Stone, looking +straight at him, continued: "You left West Sedgwick at six that +evening, as you have said. You registered at the Metropolis +Hotel, after learning that you could not get a room at your club. +And then--you went over to Brooklyn to meet, or to call on, a +young woman living in that borough. You took her back to New +York to the theatre or some such entertainment, and afterward +escorted her back to her home. The young woman wore a street +costume, by which I mean a cloth gown without a train. You did +not have a cab, but, after leaving the car, you walked for a +rather long distance in Brooklyn. It was raining, and you were +both under one umbrella. Am I correct, so far?" + +At last Gregory Hall's calm was disturbed. He looked at Fleming +Stone as at a supernatural being. And small wonder. For the +truth of Stone's statements was evident from Hall's amazement at +them. + +"You--you saw us!" he gasped. + +"No, I didn't see you; it is merely a matter of observation, +deduction, and memory. You recollect the muddy shoes?" he added, +turning to me. + +Did I recollect! Well, rather! And it certainly was a +coincidence that we had chanced to examine those shoes that +morning at the hotel. + +As for Mr. Randolph and the district attorney, they were quite as +much surprised as Hall. + +"Can you prove this astonishing story, Mr. Stone?" asked Mr. +Goodrich, with an incredulous look. + +"Oh, yes, in lots of ways," returned Stone. "For one thing, Mr. +Hall has in his pocket now a letter from the young lady. The +whole matter is of no great importance except as it proves Mr. +Hall was not in West Sedgwick that night, and so is not the +murderer." + +"But why conceal so simple a matter? Why refuse to tell of the +episode?" asked Mr. Randolph. + +"Because," and now Fleming Stone looked at Hall with accusation +in his glance--"because Mr. Hall is very anxious that his +fiancee shall not know of his attentions to the young lady in +Brooklyn." + +"O-ho!" said Mr. Goodrich, with sudden enlightenment. "I see it +all now. Is it the truth, Mr. Hall? Did you go to Brooklyn and +back that night, as Mr. Stone has described?" + +Gregory Hall fidgeted in an embarrassed way. But, unable to +escape the piercing gaze of Stone's eyes, he admitted grudgingly +that the detective had told the truth, adding, "But it's +wizardry, that's what it is! How could he know?" + +"I had reason for suspicion," said Stone; "and when I found you +were deaf in your right ear, and that you had in your pocket a +letter addressed in a feminine hand, and postmarked `Brooklyn,' I +was sure." + +"It's all true," said Hall slowly. "You have the facts all +right. But, unless you have had me shadowed, will you tell me +how you knew it all?" + +And then Fleming Stone told of his observations and deductions +when we noticed the muddied shoes at the Metropolis Hotel that +morning. + +"But," he said, as he concluded, "when I hastily adjudged the +young lady to be deaf in the left ear, I see now I was mistaken. +As soon as I realized Mr. Hall himself is deaf in the right ear, +especially so in damp or wet weather, I saw that it fitted the +case as well as if the lady had been deaf in her left ear. Then +a note in his pocket from a lady in Brooklyn made me quite sure I +was right." + +"But, Mr. Stone," said Lawyer Randolph, "it is very astonishing +that you should make those deductions from those shoes, and then +come out here and meet the owner of the shoes." + +"It seems more remarkable than it really is, Mr. Randolph," was +the response; "for I am continually observing whatever comes to +my notice. Hundreds of my deductions are never verified, or even +thought of again; so it is not so strange that now and then one +should prove of use in my work." + +"Well," said the district attorney, "it seems wonderful to me. +But now that Mr. Hall has proved his alibi, or, rather, Mr. Stone +has proved it for him, we must begin anew our search for the real +criminal." + +"One moment," said Gregory Hall. "As you know, gentlemen, I +endeavored to keep this little matter of my going to Brooklyn a +secret. As it has no possible bearing on the case of Mr. +Crawford, may I ask of you to respect my desire that you say +nothing about it?" + +"For my part," said the district attorney, "I am quite willing to +grant Mr. Hall's request. I have put him to unnecessary trouble +and embarrassment by having him arrested, and I shall be glad to +do him this favor that he asks, by way of amends." + +But Mr. Randolph seemed reluctant to make the required promise, +and Fleming Stone looked at Hall, and said nothing. + +Then I spoke out, and, perhaps with scant courtesy, I said: + +"I, for one, refuse to keep this revelation a secret. It was +discovered by the detective engaged by Miss Lloyd. Therefore, I +think Miss Lloyd is entitled to the knowledge we have thus +gained." + +Mr. Randolph looked at me with approval. He was a good friend of +Florence Lloyd, and he was of no mind to hide from her something +which it might be better for her to know. + +Gregory Hall set his lips together in a way which argued no +pleasant feelings toward me, but he said nothing then. He was +forthwith released from custody, and the rest of us separated; +having arranged to meet that evening at Miss Lloyd's home to +discuss matters. + + + + +XXI + +THE DISCLOSURE + + +Except the half-hour required for a hasty dinner, Fleming Stone +devoted the intervening time to looking over the reports of the +coroner's inquest, and in asking me questions about all the +people who were connected with the affair. + +"Burroughs," he said at last, "every one who is interested in +Joseph Crawford's death has suspected Gregory Hall, except one +person. Not everybody said they suspected him, but they did, all +the same. Even Miss Lloyd wasn't sure that Hall wasn't the +criminal. Now, there's just one person who declares that Hall +did not do it, and that he is not implicated. Why should this +person feel so sure of Hall's innocence? And, furthermore, my +boy, here are a few more important questions. In which drawer of +the desk was the revolver kept?" + +"The upper right-hand drawer," I replied. + +"I mean, what else was in that drawer?" + +"Oh, important, valuable memoranda of Mr. Crawford's stocks and +bonds." + +"Do you mean stock certificates and actual bonds?" + +"No; merely lists and certain data referring to them. The +certificates themselves were in the bank." + +"And the will--where had that been kept?" + +"In a drawer on the other side of the desk. I know all these +things, because with the lawyer and Mr. Philip Crawford, I have +been through all the papers of the estate." + +"Well, then, Burroughs, let us build up the scene. Mr. Joseph +Crawford, after returning from his lawyer's that night, goes to +his office. Naturally, he takes out his will, that he thinks of +changing, and--we'll say--it is lying on his desk when Mr. +Lemuel Porter calls. He talks of other matters, and the will +still lies there unheeded. It is there when Miss Lloyd comes +down later. She has said so. It remains there until much later +--when Philip Crawford comes, and, after discovering that his +brother is dead, sees the will still on the desk and takes it +away with him, and also sees the pistol on the desk, and takes +that, too. Now, granting that the murderer came between the time +Miss Lloyd left the office and the time Philip Crawford came +there, then it was while the murderer was present that the drawer +which held the pistol was opened, the pistol taken out, and the +murder committed, Since Mr. Joseph Crawford showed no sign of +fear of violence, the murderer must have been, not a burglar or +an unwelcome intruder, but a friend, or an acquaintance, at +least. His visit must have been the reason for opening that +drawer, and that not to get the pistol, but to look at or discuss +the papers contained in that drawer. The pistol, thus disclosed, +was temptingly near the hand of the visitor, and, for some reason +connected with the papers in that drawer, the pistol was used by +the visitor--suddenly, unpremeditatedly, but with deadly intent +at the moment." + +"But who--" I began. + +"Hush," he said, "I see it all now--or almost all. Let us go to +Philip Crawford's at once--before it is time to go to Miss +Lloyd's." + +We did so, and Fleming Stone, in a short business talk with Mr. +Crawford, learned all that he wanted to know. Then we three went +over to Florence Lloyd's home. + +Awaiting us were several people. The district attorney, of +course, and Lawyer Randolph. Also Mr. Hamilton and Mr. Porter, +who had been asked to be present. Gregory Hall was there, too, +and from his crestfallen expression, I couldn't help thinking +that he had had an unsatisfactory interview with Florence + +As we all sat round the library, Fleming Stone was the principal +speaker. + +He said: "I have come here at Miss Lloyd's request, to discover, +if possible, the murderer of her uncle, Mr. Joseph Crawford. I +have learned the identity of the assassin, and, if you all wish +me to, I will now divulge it." + +"We do wish you to, Mr. Stone," said Mr. Goodrich, and his voice +trembled a little, for he knew not where the blow might fall. +But after Fleming Stone's wonderful detective work in the case of +Gregory Hall, the district attorney felt full confidence in his +powers. + +Sitting quietly by the library table, with the eyes of all the +company upon him, Fleming Stone said, in effect, to them just +what he had said to me. He told of the revolver in the drawer +with the financial papers. He told how the midnight visitor must +have been some friend or neighbor, whose coming would in no way +startle or alarm Mr. Crawford, and whose interest in the question +of stocks was desperate. + +And then Fleming Stone turned suddenly to Lemuel Porter, and +said: "Shall I go on, Mr. Porter, or will you confess here and +now?" + +It was as if a thunderbolt had fallen. Hitherto unsuspected, the +guilt of Lemuel Porter was now apparent beyond all doubt. +White-faced and shaking, his burning eyes glared at Fleming +Stone. + +"What are you?" he whispered, in hoarse, hissing tones. "I +feared you, and I was right to fear you. I have heard of you +before. I tried to prevent your coming here, but I could not. +And I knew, when you came, that I was doomed--doomed! + +"Yes," he went on, looking around at the startled faces. "Yes, I +killed Joseph Crawford. If I had not, he would have ruined me +financially. Randolph knows that--and Philip Crawford, too. I +had no thought of murder in my heart. I came here late that +night to renew the request I had made in my earlier visit that +evening--that Joseph Crawford would unload his X.Y. stock +gradually, and in that way save me. I had overtraded; I had +pyramided my paper profits until my affairs were in such a state +that a sudden drop of ten points would wipe me out entirely. But +Joseph Crawford was adamant to my entreaties. He said he would +see to it that at the opening of the market the next morning X.Y. +stock should be hammered down out of sight. Details are +unnecessary. You lawyers and financial men understand. It was +in his power to ruin or to save me and he chose to ruin me. I +know, why, but that concerns no one here. Then, as by chance, he +moved a paper in the drawer, and I saw the pistol. In a moment +of blind rage I grasped it and shot him. Death was +instantaneous. Like one in a dream, I laid down the pistol, and +came away. I was saved, but at what a cost! No one, I think, +saw me come or go. I was afterward puzzled to know what became +of the pistol, and of the will which lay on the desk when I was +there. These matters have since been explained. Philip Crawford +is as much a criminal as I. I shot a man, but he robbed the +dead. He has confessed and made restitution, so he merits no +punishment. In the nature of things, I cannot do that, but I can +at least cheat the gallows." + +With these words, Mr. Porter put something into his mouth and +swallowed it. + +Several people started toward him in dismay, but he waved them +back, saying: + +"Too late. Good-by, all. If possible, do not let my wife know +the truth. Can't you tell her--I died of heart failure--or-- +something like that?" + +The poison he had taken was of quick effect. Though a doctor was +telephoned for at once, Mr. Porter was dead before he came. + +Everything was now made clear, and Fleming Stone's work in West +Sedgwick was done. + +I was chagrined, for I felt that all he had discovered, I ought +to have found out for myself. + +But as I glanced at Florence, and saw her lovely eyes fixed on +me, I knew that one reason I had failed in my work was because of +her distracting influence on it. + +"Take me away from here," she said, and I gently led her from the +library. + +We went into the small drawing-room, and, unable to restrain my +eagerness, I said + +"Tell me, dear, have you broken with Hall?" + +"Yes," she said, looking up shyly into my face. "I learned from +his own lips the story of the Brooklyn girl. Then I knew that he +really loves her, but wanted to marry me for my fortune. This +knowledge was enough for me. I realize now that I never loved +Gregory, and I have told him so." + +"And you do love somebody else?" I whispered ecstatically. "Oh, +Florence! I know this is not the time or the place, but just +tell me, dear, if you ever love any one, it will be--" + +"You" she murmured softly, and I was content. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg Etext of The Gold Bag, by Carolyn Wells + diff --git a/old/gldbg10.zip b/old/gldbg10.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..9058247 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/gldbg10.zip |