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diff --git a/35022.txt b/35022.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..abce2da --- /dev/null +++ b/35022.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8396 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Diamond Pin, by Carolyn Wells, +Illustrated by Gayle Hoskins + + +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 Diamond Pin + + +Author: Carolyn Wells + + + +Release Date: January 21, 2011 [eBook #35022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIAMOND PIN*** + + +E-text prepared by Annie McGuire from scanned images of public domain +material generously made available by the Google Books Library Project +(http://books.google.com/) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustration. + See 35022-h.htm or 35022-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35022/35022-h/35022-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/35022/35022-h.zip) + + + Images of the original pages are available through + the the Google Books Library Project. See + http://books.google.com/books?vid=m9sWAAAAYAAJ&id + + + + + +THE DIAMOND PIN + + * * * * * + +CAROLYN WELLS' + + + _Baffling detective stories in which Fleming Stone, the + great American Detective, displays his remarkable ingenuity + for unravelling mysteries_ + + VICKY VAN $1.35 net + THE MARK OF CAIN $1.35 net + THE CURVED BLADES $1.35 net + THE WHITE ALLEY $1.25 net + ANYBODY BUT ANNE $1.25 net + THE MAXWELL MYSTERY $1.25 net + A CHAIN OF EVIDENCE $1.25 net + THE CLUE $1.25 net + THE GOLD BAG $1.25 net + +EACH WITH FRONTISPIECE IN COLOR. +12MO. CLOTH. + + * * * * * + + +[Illustration: FIBSY AIMED IT STRAIGHT AT THE MASKED MAN--_Page 258_] + + +THE DIAMOND PIN + +by + +CAROLYN WELLS + +Author of "A Chain of Evidence," "Vicky Van," etc. + +With a Frontispiece in Color by Gayle Hoskins + + + + + + + +[Illustration] + +Philadelphia and London +J. B. Lippincott Company +1919 + +Copyright, 1919, by J. B. Lippincott Company + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER PAGE + I. A CERTAIN DATE 7 + II. THE LOCKED ROOM 24 + III. THE EVIDENCE OF THE CHECKBOOK 40 + IV. TIMKEN AND HIS INQUIRIES 56 + V. DOWNING'S EVIDENCE 71 + VI. LUCILLE 87 + VII. THE CASE AGAINST BANNARD 103 + VIII. RODNEY POLLOCK APPEARS 119 + IX. IRIS IN DANGER 135 + X. FLOSSIE 151 + XI. GONE AGAIN! 167 + XII. IN CHICAGO 183 + XIII. FLEMING STONE COMES 200 + XIV. FIBSY AND SAM 216 + XV. IN THE COLOLE 233 + XVI. KIDNAPPED AGAIN 250 + XVII. THE CIPHER 266 + XVIII. SOLUTION AT LAST 282 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A CERTAIN DATE + + +"Well, go to church then, and I hope to goodness you'll come back in a +more spiritual frame of mind! Though how you can feel spiritual in that +flibbertigibbet dress is more than I know! An actress, indeed! No +mummers' masks have ever blotted the scutcheon of my family tree. The +Clydes were decent, God-fearing people, and I don't propose, Miss, that +you shall disgrace the name." + +Ursula Pell shook her good-looking gray head and glowered at her pretty +niece, who was getting into a comfortable though not elaborate motor +car. + +"I know you didn't propose it, Aunt Ursula," returned the smiling girl, +"I thought up the scheme myself, and I decline to let you have credit of +its origin." + +"Discredit, you mean," and Mrs. Pell sniffed haughtily. "Here's some +money for the contribution plate. Iris; see that you put it in, and +don't appropriate it yourself." + +The slender, aristocratic old hand, half covered by a falling lace +frill, dropped a coin into Iris' out-held palm, and the girl perceived +it was one cent. + +She looked at her aunt in amazement, for Mrs. Pell was a millionaire; +then, thinking better of her impulse to voice an indignant protest, Iris +got into the car. Immediately, she saw a dollar bill on the seat beside +her and she knew that was for the contribution plate, and the penny was +a joke of her aunt's. + +For Ursula Pell had a queer twist in her fertile old brain that made her +enjoy the temporary discomfiture of her friends, whenever she was able +to bring it about. To see anyone chagrined, nonplused, or made suddenly +to feel ridiculous, was to Mrs. Pell an occasion of sheer delight. + +To do her justice, her whimsical tricks usually ended in the +gratification of the victim in some way, as now, when Iris, thinking her +aunt had given her a penny for the collection, found the dollar ready +for that worthy cause. But such things are irritating, and were +particularly so to Iris Clyde, whose sense of humor was of a different +trend. + +In fact, Iris' whole nature was different from her aunt's, and therein +lay most of the difficulties of their living together. For there were +difficulties. The erratic, emphatic, dogmatic old lady could not +sympathize with the high-strung, high-spirited young girl, and as a +result there was more friction than should be in any well-regulated +family. + +And Mrs. Pell had a decided penchant for practical jokes--than which +there is nothing more abominable. But members of Mrs. Pell's household +put up with these because if they didn't they automatically ceased to be +members of Mrs. Pell's household. + +One member had made this change. A nephew, Winston Bannard, had resented +his aunt's gift of a trick cigar, which blew up and sent fine sawdust +into his eyes and nose, and her follow-up of a box of Perfectos was +insufficient to keep him longer in the uncertain atmosphere of her +otherwise pleasant country home. + +And now, Iris Clyde had announced her intention of leaving the old roof +also. Her pretext was that she wanted to become an actress, and that was +true, but had Mrs Pell been more companionable and easy to live with, +Iris would have curbed her histrionic ambitions. Nor is it beyond the +possibilities that Iris chose the despised profession, because she knew +it would enrage her aunt to think of a Clyde going into the depths of +ignominy which the stage represented to Mrs. Pell. + +For Iris Clyde at twenty-two had quite as strong a will and inflexible a +determination as her aunt at sixty-two, and though they oftenest ran +parallel, yet when they criss-crossed, neither was ready to yield the +fraction of a point for the sake of peace in the family. + +And it was after one of their most heated discussions, after a duel of +words that flicked with sarcasm and rasped with innuendo, that Iris, +cool and pretty in her summer costume, started for church, leaving Mrs. +Pell, irate and still nervously quivering from her own angry tirade. + +Iris smiled and waved the bill at her aunt as the car started, and then +suddenly looked aghast and leaned over the side of the car as if she had +dropped the dollar. But the car sped on, and Iris waved frantically, +pointing to the spot where she had seemed to drop the bill, and +motioning her aunt to go out there and get it. + +This Mrs. Pell promptly did, only to be rewarded by a ringing laugh from +Iris and a wave of the bill in the girl's hand, as the car slid through +the gates and out of sight. + +"Silly thing!" grumbled Ursula Pell, returning to the piazza where she +had been sitting. But she smiled at the way her niece had paid her back +in her own coin, if a dollar bill can be considered coin. + +This, then, was the way the members of the Pell household were expected +to conduct themselves. Nor was it only the family, but the servants also +were frequent butts for the misplaced hilarity of their mistress. + +One cook left because of a tiny mouse imprisoned in her workbasket; one +first-class gardener couldn't stand a scarecrow made in a ridiculous +caricature of himself; and one small scullery maid objected to +unexpected and startling "Boos!" from dark corners. + +But servants could always be replaced, and so, for that matter, could +relatives, for Mrs. Pell had many kinsfolk, and her wealth would prove a +strong magnet to most of them. + +Indeed, as outsiders often exclaimed, why mind a harmless joke now and +then? Which was all very well--for the outsiders. But it is far from +pleasant to live in continual expectation of salt in one's tea or cotton +in one's croquettes. + +So Winston had picked up his law books and sought refuge in New York +City and Iris, after a year's further endurance, was thinking seriously +of following suit. + +And yet, Ursula Pell was most kind, generous and indulgent. Iris had +been with her for ten years, and as a child or a very young girl, she +had not minded her aunt's idiosyncrasy, had, indeed, rather enjoyed the +foolish tricks. But, of late, they had bored her, and their constant +recurrence so wore on her nerves that she wanted to go away and order +her life for herself. The stage attracted her, though not insistently. +She planned to live in bachelor apartments with a girl chum who was an +artist, and hoped to find congenial occupation of some kind. She rather +harped on the actress proposition because it so thoroughly annoyed her +aunt, and matters between them had now come to such a pass, that they +teased each other in any and every way possible. This was entirely Mrs. +Pell's fault, for if she hadn't had her peculiar trait of practical +joking, Iris never would have dreamed of teasing her. + +On the whole, they were good friends, and often a few days would pass in +perfect harmony by reason of Ursula not being moved by her imp of the +perverse to cut up any silly prank. Then, Iris would drink from a glass +of water, to find it had been tinctured with asafetida, or brush her +hair and then learn that some drops of glue had been put on the bristles +of her hairbrush. + +Anger or sulks at these performances were just what Mrs. Pell wanted, so +Iris roared with laughter and pretended to think it all very funny, +whereupon Mrs. Pell did the sulking, and Iris scored. + +So it was not, perhaps, surprising that the girl concluded to leave her +aunt's home and shift for herself. It would, she knew, probably mean +disinheritance; but after all money is not everything, and as the old +lady grew older, her pranks became more and more an intolerable +nuisance. + +And Iris wanted to go out into the world and meet people. The neighbors +in the small town of Berrien, where they lived, were uninteresting, and +there were few visitors from the outside world. Though less than fifteen +miles from New York, Iris rarely invited her friends to visit her +because of the probability that her aunt would play some absurd trick on +them. This had happened so many times, even though Mrs. Pell had +promised that it should not occur, that Iris had resolved never to try +it again. + +The best friends and advisers of the girl were Mr. Bowen, the rector, +and his wife. The two were also friends of Mrs. Pell, and perhaps out of +respect for his cloth, the old lady never played tricks on the Bowens. +It was their habit to dine every Sunday at Pellbrook, and the occasion +was always the pleasantest of the whole week. + +The farm was a large one, about a mile from the village, and included +old-fashioned orchards and hayfields as well as more modern greenhouses +and gardens. There was a lovely brook, a sunny slope of hillside, and a +delightful grove of maples, and added to these a long-distance view of +hazy hills that made Pellbrook one of the most attractive country places +for many miles around. + +Ursula Pell sat on her verandah quite contentedly gazing over the +landscape and thinking about her multitudinous affairs. + +"I s'pose I oughtn't to tease that child," she thought, smiling at the +recollection; "I don't know what I'd do, if she should leave me! Win +went, but, land! you can't keep a young man down! A girl, now, 's +different. I guess I'll take Iris to New York next winter and let her +have a little fling. I'll pretend I'm going alone, and leave her here to +keep the house, and then I'll take her too! She'll be so surprised!" + +The old lady's eyes twinkled and she fairly reveled in the joke she +would play on her niece. And, not to do her an injustice, she meant no +harm. She really thought only of the girl's glad surprise at learning +she was to go, and gave no heed to the misery that might be caused by +the previous disappointment. + +A woman came out from the house to ask directions for dinner. + +"Yes, Polly," said Ursula Pell, "the Bowens will dine here as usual. +Dinner at one-thirty, sharp, as the rector has to leave at three, to +attend some meeting or other. Pity they had to have it on Sunday." + +There was some discussion of the menu and then Polly, the old cook, +shuffled away, and again Ursula Pell sat alone. + +"An actress!" she ruminated, "my little Iris an actress! Well, I guess +not! But I can persuade her out of that foolishness, I'll bet! Why, if I +can't do it any other way, I'll take her traveling,--I'll--why, I'll +give her her inheritance now, and let her amuse herself being an heiress +before I'm dead and gone. Why should I wait for that, any way? Suppose I +give her the pin at once--I'd do it to-day, I believe, while the +notion's on me, if I only had it here. I can get it from Mr. Chapin in a +few days, and then--well, then, Iris would have something to interest +her! I wonder how she'd like a whole king's ransom of jewels! She's like +a princess herself. And, then, too, that girl ought to marry, and marry +well. I suppose I ought to have been thinking about this before. I must +talk to the Bowens--of course, there's no one in Berrien--I did think +one time Win might fall in love with her, but then he went away, and +now he never comes up here any more. I wonder if Iris cares especially +for Win. She never says anything about him, but that's no sign, one way +or the other. I'd like her to marry Roger Downing, but she snubs him +unmercifully. And he is a little countrified. With Iris' beauty and the +fortune I shall leave her, she could marry anybody on earth! I believe +I'll take her traveling a bit, say, to California, and then spend the +winter in New York and give the girl a chance. And I must quit teasing +her. But I do love to see that surprised look when I play some +outlandish trick on her!" + +The old lady's eyes assumed a vixenish expression and her smile widened +till it was a sly, almost diabolical grin. Quite evidently she was even +then planning some new and particularly disagreeable joke on Iris. + +At length she rose and went into the house to write in her diary. Ursula +Pell was of most methodical habits, and a daily journal was regularly +kept. + +The main part of the house was four square, a wide hall running straight +through the center, with doors front and back. On the left, as one +entered, the big living room was in front, and behind it a smaller +sitting room, which was Mrs. Pell's own. Not that anyone was unwelcome +there, but it held many of her treasures and individual belongings, and +served as her study or office, for the transaction of the various +business matters in which she was involved. Frequently her lawyer was +closeted with her here for long confabs, for Ursula Pell was greatly +given to the pleasurable entertainment of changing her will. + +She had made more wills than Lawyer Chapin could count, and each in turn +was duly drawn up and witnessed and the previous one destroyed. Her +diary usually served to record the changes she proposed making, and when +the time was ripe for a new will, the diary was requisitioned for +direction as to the testamentary document. + +The wealth of Ursula Pell was enormous, far more so than one would +suppose from the simplicity of her household appointments. This was not +due to miserliness, but to her simple tastes and her frugal early life. +Her fortune was the bequest of her husband, who, now dead more than +twenty years, had amassed a great deal of money which he had invested +almost entirely in precious stones. It was his theory and belief that +stocks and bonds were uncertain, whereas gems were always valuable. His +collection included some world-famous diamonds and rubies, and a set of +emeralds that were historic. + +But nobody, save Ursula Pell herself, knew where these stones were. +Whether in safe deposit or hidden on her own property, she had never +given so much as a hint to her family or her lawyer. James Chapin knew +his eccentric old client better than to inquire concerning the +whereabouts of her treasure, and made and remade the wills disposing of +it, without comment. A few of the smaller gems Mrs. Pell had given to +Iris and to young Bannard, and some, smaller still, to more distant +relatives; but the bulk of the collection had never been seen by the +present generation. + +She often told Iris that it should all be hers eventually, but Iris +didn't seriously bank on the promise, for she knew her erratic aunt +might quite conceivably will the jewels to some distant cousin, in a +moment of pique at her niece. + +For Iris was not diplomatic. Never had she catered to her aunt's whims +or wishes with a selfish motive. She honestly tried to live peaceably +with Mrs. Pell, but of late she had begun to believe that impossible, +and was planning to go away. + +As usual on Sunday morning, Ursula Pell had her house to herself. + +Her modest establishment consisted of only four servants, who engaged +additional help as their duties required. Purdy, the old gardener, was +the husband of Polly, the cook; Agnes, the waitress, also served as +ladies' maid when occasion called for it. Campbell, the chauffeur, +completed the menage, and all other workers, and there were a good many, +were employed by the day, and did not live at Pellbrook. + +Mrs. Pell rarely went to church, and on Sunday mornings Campbell took +Iris to the village. Agnes accompanied them, as she, too, attended the +Episcopal service. + +Purdy and his wife drove an old horse and still older buckboard to a +small church nearby, which better suited their type of piety. + +Polly was a marvel of efficiency and managed cleverly to go to meeting +without in any way delaying or interfering with her preparations for the +Sunday dinner. Indeed, Ursula Pell would have no one around her who was +not efficient. Waste and waste motion were equally taboo in that +household. + +The mistress of the place made her customary round of the kitchen +quarters, and, finding everything in its usual satisfactory condition, +returned to her own sitting room, and took her diary from her desk. + +At half-past twelve the Purdys returned, and at one o'clock the motor +car brought its load from the village. + +"Well, well, Mr. Bowen, how do you do?" the hostess greeted them as they +arrived. "And dear Mrs. Bowen, come right in and lay off your bonnet." + +The wide hall, with its tables, chairs and mirrors offered ample +accommodations for hats and wraps, and soon the party were seated on the +front part of the broad verandah that encircled three sides of the +house. + +Mr. Bowen was stout and jolly and his slim shadow of a wife acted as a +sort of Greek chorus, agreeing with and echoing his remarks and +opinions. + +Conversation was in a gay and bantering key, and Mrs. Pell was in high +good humor. Indeed, she seemed nervously excited and a little +hysterical, but this was not entirely unusual, and her guests fitted +their mood to hers. + +A chance remark led to mention of Mrs. Pell's great fortune of jewels, +and Mr. Bowen declared that he fully expected she would bequeath them +all to his church to be made into a wonderful chalice. + +"Not a bad idea," exclaimed Ursula Pell; "and one I've never thought of! +I'll get Mr. Chapin over here to-morrow to change my will." + +"Who will be the loser?" asked the rector. "To whom are they willed at +present?" + +"That's telling," and Mrs. Pell smiled mysteriously. + +"Don't forget you've promised me the wonderful diamond pin, auntie," +said Iris, bristling up a little. + +"What diamond pin?" asked Mrs. Bowen, curiously. + +"Oh, for years, Aunt Ursula has promised me a marvelous diamond pin, the +most valuable of her whole collection--haven't you, auntie?" + +"Yes, Iris," and Mrs. Pell nodded her head, "that pin is certainly the +most valuable thing I possess." + +"It must be a marvel, then," said Mr. Bowen, his eyes opening wide, "for +I've heard great tales of the Pell collection. I thought they were all +unset jewels." + +"Most of them are," Mrs. Pell spoke carelessly, "but the pin I shall +leave to Iris----" + +At that moment dinner was announced, and the group went to the dining +room. This large and pleasant room was in front on the right, and back +of it were the pantries and kitchens. A long rear extension provided the +servants' quarters, which were numerous and roomy. The house was +comfortable rather than pretentious, and though the village folk +wondered why so rich a woman continued to live in such an old-fashioned +home, those who knew her well realized that the place exactly met Ursula +Pell's requirements. + +The dinner was in harmony with the atmosphere of the home. Plentiful, +well-cooked food there was, but no attempt at elaborate confections or +any great formality of service. + +One concession to modernity was a small dish of stuffed dates at each +cover, and of these Mrs. Pell spoke in scornful tones. + +"Some of Iris' foolishness," she observed. "She wants all sorts of +knick-knacks that she considers stylish!" + +"I don't at all, auntie," denied the girl, flushing with annoyance, "but +when you ate those dates at Mrs. Graham's the other day, you enjoyed +them so much I thought I'd make some. She gave me her recipe, and I +think they're very nice." + +"I do, too," agreed Mrs. Bowen, eating a date appreciatively, and +feeling sorry for Iris' discomfiture. For though many girls might not +mind such disapproval, Iris was of a sensitive nature, and cringed +beneath her aunt's sharp words. + +In an endeavor to cover her embarrassment, she picked up a date from her +own portion and bit off the end. + +From the fruit spurted a stream of jet black ink, which stained Iris' +lips, offended her palate, and spilling on her pretty white frock, +utterly ruined the dainty chiffon and lace. + +She comprehended instantly. Her aunt, to annoy her, had managed to +conceal ink in one of the dates, and place it where Iris would naturally +pick it up first. + +With an angry exclamation the girl left the table and ran upstairs. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE LOCKED ROOM + + +Ursula Pell leaned back in her chair and shrieked with laughter. + +"She _will_ have stuffed dates and fancy fixin's, will she?" she cried; +"I just guess she's had enough of those fallals now!" + +"It quite spoiled her pretty frock," said Mrs. Bowen, timidly +remonstrant. + +"That's nothing, I'll buy her another. Oh, I did that pretty cleverly, I +can tell you! I took a little capsule, a long, thin one, and I filled it +with ink, just as you'd fill a fountain pen. Oh, oh! Iris _was_ so mad! +She never suspected at all; and she bit into that date--oh! oh! wasn't +it funny!" + +"I don't think it was," began Mrs. Bowen, but her husband lifted his +eyebrows at her, and she said no more. + +Though a clergyman, Alexander Bowen was not above mercenary impulses, +and the mere reference, whether it had been meant or not, to a jeweled +chalice made him unwilling to disapprove of anything such an influential +hostess might do or say. + +"Iris owes so much to her aunt," the rector said smilingly, "of course +she takes such little jests in good part." + +"She'd better," and Ursula Pell nodded her head; "if she knows which +side her bread is buttered, she'll kiss the hand that strikes her." + +"If it doesn't strike too hard," put in Mrs. Bowen, unable to resist +some slight comment. + +But again her husband frowned at her to keep silent, and the subject was +dropped. + +It was fully a quarter of an hour before Iris returned, her face red +from scrubbing and still showing dark traces of the ink on chin and +cheek. She wore a plain little frock of white dimity, and smiled as she +resumed her seat at the table. + +"Now, Aunt Ursula," she said, "if you've any more ink to spill, spill it +on this dress, and not on one of my best ones." + +"Fiddlestrings, Iris, I'll give you a new dress--I'll give you two. It +was well worth it, to see you bite into that date! My! you looked so +funny! And you look funny yet! There's ink marks all over your face!" + +Mrs. Pell shook with most irritating laughter, and Iris flushed with +annoyance. + +"I know it, auntie; but I couldn't get them off." + +"Never mind, it'll wear off in a few days. And meantime, you can wrap it +up in a blotter!" + +Again the speaker chuckled heartily at her own wit, and the rector +joined her, while Mrs. Bowen with difficulty achieved a smile. + +She was sorry for Iris, for this sort of jesting offended the girl more +than it would most people, and the kind-hearted woman knew it. But, +afraid of her husband's disapproval, she said nothing, and smiled, at +his unspoken behest. + +Nor was Iris herself entirely forgiving. One could easily see that her +calmly pleasant expression covered a deeper feeling of resentment and +exasperation. She had the appearance of having reached her limit, and +though outwardly serene was indubitably angry. + +Her pretty face, ludicrous because of the indelible smears of ink, was +pale and strained, and her deep brown eyes smoldered with repressed +rage. For Iris Clyde was far from meek. Her nature was, first of all, a +just one, and, to a degree, retaliatory, even revengeful. + +"Oh, I see your eyes snapping, Iris," exclaimed her aunt, delighted at +the girl's annoyance, "I'll bet you'll get even with me for this!" + +"Indeed I will, Aunt Ursula," and Iris' lips set in a straight line of +determination, which, in conjunction with the ink stains, sent Mrs. +Pell off into further peals of hilarity. + +"Be careful, Iris," cautioned Mr. Bowen, himself wary, "if you get even +with your aunt, she may leave the diamond pin to me instead of to you." + +"Nixie," returned Iris saucily, "you've promised that particular diamond +pin to me, haven't you, Auntie?" + +"I certainly have, Iris. However often I change my will, that pin is +always designated as your inheritance." + +"Where is it?" asked Mr. Bowen, curiously; "may I not see it?" + +"It is in a box in my lawyer's safe, at this moment," replied Mrs. Pell. +"Mr. Chapin has instructions to hand the box over to Iris after my +departure from this life, which I suppose you'd like to expedite, eh, +Iris?" + +"Well, I wouldn't go so far as to poison you," Iris smiled, "but I +confess I felt almost murderous when I ran up to my room just now and +looked in the mirror!" + +"I don't wonder!" exclaimed Mrs. Bowen, unable to stifle her feelings +longer. + +"Tut! tut!" cried the rector, "what talk for Christian people!" + +"Oh, they don't mean it," said Mrs. Pell, "you must take our chaff in +good part, Mr. Bowen." + +Dinner over, the Bowens almost immediately departed, and Iris, catching +sight of her disfigured face in a mirror, turned angrily to her aunt. + +"I won't stand it!" she exclaimed. "This is the last time I shall let +you serve me in this fashion. I'm going to New York to-morrow, and I +hope I shall never see you again!" + +"Now, dearie, don't be too hard on your old auntie. It was only a joke, +you know. I'll get you another frock----" + +"It isn't only the frock, Aunt Ursula, it's this horrid state of things +generally. Why, I never dare pick up a thing, or touch a thing--without +the chance of some fool stunt making trouble for me!" + +"Now, now, I will try not to do it any more. But, don't talk about going +away. If you do, I'll cut you out of my will entirely." + +"I don't care. That would be better than living in a trick house! Look +at my face! It will be days before these stains wear off! You ought to +be ashamed of yourself, Aunt Ursula!" + +The old lady looked roguishly penitent, like a naughty child. + +"Oh, fiddle-de-dee, you can get them off with whatcha-call-it soap. But +I hope you won't! They make you look like a clown in a circus!" + +Mrs. Pell's laughter had that peculiarly irritating quality that belongs +to practical jokers, and Iris' sensitive nature was stung to the core. + +"Oh, I hate you," she cried, "you are a fiend in human shape!" and +without another word she ran upstairs to her own room. + +Ursula Pell looked a little chagrined, then burst into laughter at the +remembrance of Iris' face as she denounced her, and then her expression +suddenly changed to one of pain, and she walked slowly to her own +sitting room, went in and closed the door behind her. + +It was part of the Sunday afternoon routine that Mrs. Pell should go to +this room directly after dinner, and it was understood that she was not +to be disturbed unless callers came. + +A little later, Polly was in the dining-room arranging the sideboard, +when she heard Mrs. Pell's voice. It was an agonized scream, not loud, +but as one greatly frightened. The woman ran through the hall and living +room to the closed door of the sitting room. Then she clearly heard her +mistress calling for help. + +But the door was locked on the inside, and Polly could not open it. + +"Help! Thieves!" came in terrified accents, and then the voice died away +to a troubled groaning; only to rise in a shrill shriek of "Help! +Quickly!" and then again the moans and sighs of one in agony. + +Frantically Polly hurried to the kitchen and called her husband. + +"One of her damfool jokes," muttered the old man, as he shuffled toward +the door of the locked room. "She's locked herself in, and she wants to +get us all stirred up, thinkin' she's been attacked by thugs, an' in a +minute she'll be laughin' at us." + +"I don't think so," said Polly, dubiously, for she well knew her +mistress' ways, "them yells was too natural." + +Old Purdy listened, his ear against the door. "I can hear her rustlin' +about a little," he said, "an'--there, that was a faint moan--mebbe +she's been took with a spell or suthin'." + +"Let's get the door open, anyway," begged Polly. "If it's a joke, I'll +stand for it, but I'll bet you something's happened." + +"What could happen, unless she's had a stroke, an' if that's it, she +wouldn't be a callin' out 'Thieves!' Didn't you say she said that?" + +"Yes, as plain as day!" + +"Then that proves she's foolin' us! How could there be thieves in there, +an' the door locked?" + +"Well, get it open. I'm plumb scared," and Polly's round face was pale +with fright. + +"But I can't. Do you want me to break it in? We'd get what for in +earnest if I done that!" + +"Run around and look in the windows," suggested Polly, "and I'm going to +call Miss Iris. I jest know something's wrong, this time." + +"What is it?" asked Iris, responding to the summons, "what was that +noise I heard?" + +"Mrs. Pell screamed out, Miss Iris, and when I went to see what was the +matter, I found the door locked, and we can't get in." + +"She screamed?" said Iris. "Perhaps it's just one of her jokes." + +"That's what Purdy thinks, but it didn't sound so to me. It sounded like +she was in mortal danger. Here's Purdy now. Well?" + +"I can't see in the windows," was his retort, "the shades is all pulled +down, 'count o' the sun. She always has 'em so afternoons. And you well +know, nobody could get in them windows, or out of 'em." + +Ursula Pell's sitting room was also her storehouse of many treasures. +Collections of curios and coins left by her husband, additional objects +of value, bought by herself, made the room almost a museum; and, in +addition, her desk contained money and important papers. Wherefore, she +had had the windows secured by a strong steel lattice work, that made +ingress impossible to marauders. Two windows faced south and two west, +and there was but one door, that into the living room. + +This being locked, the room was inaccessible, and the drawn shades +prevented even a glimpse of the interior. The windows were open, but the +shades inside the steel gratings were not to be reached. + +There was no sound now from the room, and the listeners stood, looking +at one another, uncertain what to do next. + +"Of course it's a joke," surmised Purdy, "but even so, it's our duty to +get into that room. If so be's we get laughed at for our pains, it won't +be anything outa the common; and if Mrs. Pell has had a stroke--or +anything has happened to her, we must see about it." + +"How will you get in?" asked Iris, looking frightened. + +"Bust the door down," said Purdy, succinctly. "I'll have to get Campbell +to help. While I'm gone after him, you try to persuade Mrs. Pell to come +out--if she's just trickin' us." + +The old man went off, and Polly began to speak through the closed door. + +"Let us in, Mrs. Pell," she urged. "Do, now, or Purdy'll spoil this good +door. Now what's the sense o' that, if you're only a foolin'? Open the +door--please do--" + +But no response of any sort was made. The stillness was tragic, yet +there was the possibility, even the likelihood, that the tricky mistress +of the house would only laugh at them when they had forced an entrance. + +"Of course it's her foolishness," said Agnes, who had joined the group. +She spoke in a whisper, not wanting to brave a reprimand for +impertinence. "What does she care for having a new door made, if she can +get us all soured up over nothing at all?" + +Iris said nothing. Only a faint, almost imperceptible tinge remained of +the ink stains on her face. She had used vigorous measures, and had +succeeded in removing most of the disfigurement. + +Campbell returned with Purdy. + +"Ah, now, Mis' Pell, come out o' there," he wheedled, "do now! It's a +sin and a shame to bust in this here heavy door. Likewise it ain't no +easy matter nohow. I'm not sure me and Purdy can do it. Please, Missis, +unlock the door and save us all a lot of trouble." + +But no sound came in answer. + +"Let's all be awful still," suggested Purdy, "for quite a time, an' see +if she don't make some move." + +Accordingly each and every one of them scarcely breathed and the silence +was intense. + +"I can't hear a sound," said Campbell, at last, his ear against the +keyhole, which was nearly filled by its own key. "I can't hear her +breathing. You sure she's in there?" + +"Of course," said Polly. "Didn't I hear her screamin'? I tell you we +_got_ to get in. Joke or no joke, we got to!" + +"You're right," and Campbell looked serious. "I got ears like a hawk, +and I bet I'd hear her breathing if she was in there. Come on, Purdy." + +The door was thick and heavy, but the lock was a simple one, not a bolt, +and the efforts of the two men splintered the jamb and released the +door. + +The sight revealed was overwhelming. The women screamed and the men +stood aghast. + +On the floor lay the body of Ursula Pell, and a glance was sufficient to +see that she was dead. Her face was covered with blood and a small pool +of it had formed near her head. Her clothing was torn and disordered, +and the whole room was in a state of chaos. A table was overturned, and +the beautiful lamp that had been on it, lay in shattered bits on the +floor. A heavy-handled poker, belonging to the fire set, was lying near +Mrs. Pell's head, and the contents of her writing-desk were scattered +in mad confusion on chairs and on the floor. A secret cupboard above +the mantel, really a small concealed safe, was flung open, and was +empty. An empty pocket-book lay on one chair, and an empty handbag on +another. + +But these details were lost sight of in the attention paid to Mrs. Pell +herself. + +"She's dead! she's dead!" wailed Polly. "It wasn't a joke of hers--it +was really robbers. She called out 'Thieves!' and 'Help!' several times. +Oh, if I'd got you men in sooner!" + +"But, good land, Polly!" cried Campbell, "what do you mean by thieves? +How _could_ anybody get in here with the door locked? Or, if he was in, +how could he get out?" + +"Maybe he's here now!" and Polly gazed wildly about. + +"We'll soon see!" and Campbell searched the entire room. It was not +difficult, for there were no alcoves or cupboards, the furniture was +mostly curio cabinets, treasure tables, a few chairs and a couch. +Campbell looked under the couch, and behind the window curtains, but no +intruder was found. + +"Mighty curious," said old Purdy, scratching his head; "how in blazes +could she scream murder and thieves, when there wasn't no one in here? +And how could anyone be in here with her, and get out, leavin' that +'ere door locked behind him?" + +"She was murdered all right!" declared Campbell, "look at them bruises +on her neck! See, her dress is tore open at the throat! What kind o' +villain could 'a' done that? Gosh, it's fierce!" + +Iris came timidly forward to look at the awful sight. Unable to bear it, +she turned and sank on the couch, completely unnerved. + +"Get a doctor, shall I?" asked Campbell, who was the most composed of +them all. + +"What for?" asked Purdy. "She's dead as a door nail, poor soul! But yes, +I s'pose it's the proper thing. An' we oughta get the crowner, an' not +touch nothin' till he comes." + +"The coroner!" Iris' eyes stared at him. "What for?" + +"Well, you see, Miss Iris, it's custom'ry when they's a murder----" + +"But she couldn't have been murdered! Impossible! Who could have done +it? It's--it's an accident." + +"I wish I could think so, Miss Iris," and Purdy's honest old face was +very grave, "but you look around. See, there's been robbery,--look at +that there empty pocket-book an' empty bag! An' the way she's +been--hit! Why, see them marks on her chest! She's fair black an' blue! +And her skirt's tore--" + +"Good Lord!" cried Polly, "her pocket's tore out! She always had a big +pocket inside each dress skirt, and this one's been--why it's been cut +out!" + +There could be no doubt that the old lady had been fearfully attacked. +Nor could there be any doubt of robbery. The ransacked desk, the open +safe, the cut-out pocket, added to the state of the body itself, left no +room for theories of accident or self-destruction. + +"Holler for the doctor," commanded Purdy, instinctively taking the helm. +"You telephone him, Campbell, and then he'll see about the coroner--or +whoever he wants. And I think we'd oughter call up Mr. Bowen, what say, +Miss Iris?" + +"Mr. Bowen--why?" + +"Oh, I dunno; it seems sorter decent, that's all." + +"Very well, do so." + +"I--I suppose I ought to telephone to Mr. Bannard----" + +"Sure you ought to. But let's get the people up here first, then you can +get long distance to New York afterward." + +Once over the first shock of horror, Purdy's sense of responsibility +asserted itself, and he was thoughtful and efficient. + +"All of you go outa this room," he directed, "I'll take charge of it +till the police get here. This is a mighty strange case, an' I can't see +any light as to how it could 'a' happened. But it did happen--poor Mis' +Pell is done for, an' I'll stand guard over her body till somebody with +more authority gets here. You, Agnes, be ready to wait on the door, and +Polly, you look after Miss Iris. Campbell, you telephone like I told +you----" + +Submissively they all obeyed him. Iris, with an effort, rose from the +couch and went out to the living room. There, she sat in a big chair, +and stared at nothing, until Polly, watching, became alarmed. + +"Be ca'm, now, Miss Iris, do be ca'm," she urged, stupidly. + +"Hush up, Polly, I am calm. Don't say such foolish things. You know I'm +not the sort to faint or fly into hysterics." + +"I know you ain't, Miss Iris, but you're so still and queer like----" + +"Who wouldn't be? Polly, explain it. What happened to Aunt Ursula--do +_you_ think?" + +"Miss Iris, they ain't no explanation. I'm a quick thinker, I am, and I +tell you, there ain't no way that murderer--for there sure was a +murderer--could 'a' got in that room or got out, with that door +locked." + +"Then she killed herself?" + +"No, she couldn't possibly 'a' done that. You know yourself, she +couldn't. When she screamed 'Thieves!' the thieves was there. Now, how +did they get away? They ain't no secret way in an' out, that I know. +I've lived in this house too many years to be fooled about its buildin'. +It's a mystery, that's what it is, a mystery." + +"Will it ever be solved?" and Iris looked at old Polly as if inquiring +of a sibyl. + +"Land, child, how do I know? I ain't no seer. I s'pose some of those +smart detectives can make it out, but it's beyond me!" + +"Oh, Polly, they won't have detectives, will they?" + +"Sure they will, Miss Iris; they'll have to." + +"Now, I'm through with the telephone," said Campbell, reappearing. +"Shall I get New York for you, Miss?" + +"No," said Iris, rising, "I'll get the call myself." + + + + +CHAPTER III + +THE EVIDENCE OF THE CHECKBOOK + + +Winston Bannard's apartments in New York were comfortable though not +luxurious. The Caxton Annex catered to young bachelors who were not +millionaires but who liked to live pleasantly, and Bannard had been +contentedly ensconced there ever since he had left his aunt's home. + +He had always been glad he had made the move, for the city life was far +more to his liking than the village ways of Berrien, and if his law +practice could not be called enormous, it was growing and he had +developed some real ability. + +Of late he had fallen in with a crowd of men much richer than himself, +and association with them had led to extravagance in the matter of cards +for high stakes, motors of high cost, and high living generally. + +The high cost of living is undeniable, and Bannard not infrequently +found himself in financial difficulties of more or less depth and +importance. + +As he entered his rooms Sunday evening about seven, he found a telegram +and a telephone notice from the hotel office. The latter merely +informed him that Berrien, Connecticut, had called him at four o'clock. +The telegram read: + +"For Heaven's sake come up here at once. Aunt Ursula is dead." + +It was signed Iris, and Bannard read it, standing by the window to catch +the gleams of fading daylight. Then he sank into a chair, and read it +over again, though he now knew it by rote. + +He was not at all stunned. His alert mind traveled quickly from one +thought to another, and for ten minutes his tense, strained position, +his set jaw and his occasionally winking eyes betokened successive +cogitations on matters of vital importance. + +Then he jumped up, looked at his watch, consulted a time-table, and, not +waiting for an elevator, ran down the stairs through that atmosphere of +Sunday afternoon quiet, which is perhaps nowhere more noticeable than in +a city hotel. + +A taxicab, a barely caught train, and before nine o'clock Winston +Bannard was at the Berrien railroad station. + +Campbell was there to meet him, and as they drove to the house Bannard +sat beside the chauffeur that he might learn details of the tragedy. + +"But I don't understand, Campbell," Bannard said, "how could she be +murdered, alone in her room, with the door locked? Did she--didn't +she--kill herself?" + +But the chauffeur was close-mouthed. "I don't know, Mr. Bannard," he +returned, "it's all mighty queer, and the detective told me not to +gossip or chatter about it at all." + +"But, my stars! man, it isn't gossip to tell _me_ all there is to tell." + +"But there's nothing to tell. The bare facts you know--I've told you +those; as to the rest, the police or Miss Iris must tell you." + +"You're right," agreed Bannard. "I'm glad you are not inclined to guess +or surmise. There must be some explanation, of course. How about the +windows?" + +"Well, you know those windows, Mr. Bannard. They're as securely barred +as the ones in the bank, and more so. Ever since Mrs. Pell took that +room for her treasure room, about eight or ten years ago, they've been +protected by steel lattice work and that's untouched. That settles the +windows, and there's only the one door, and that Purdy and I broke open. +Now, that's all I know about it." + +Bannard relapsed into silence, and Campbell didn't speak again until +they reached the house. + +"Oh, I'm so glad you've come!" was the first greeting to the young man +as he entered the hall at Pellbrook. It was spoken by Mrs. Bowen, who +had been with Iris ever since she was summoned by telephone, that +afternoon. "It's all so dreadful,--the doctors are examining the body +now--and the coroner is here--and two detectives--and Iris is so +queer----" the poor little lady quite broke down, in her relief at +having some one to share her responsibility. + +"Isn't Mr. Bowen here?" Bannard said, as he followed her into the +living-room. + +"No, he had to attend service, he'll come after church. Here is Iris." + +The girl did not rise at Bannard's approach, but sat, looking up at him, +her face full of inquiry. + +"Where have you been?" she demanded; "why didn't you come sooner? I +telegraphed at four o'clock--I telephoned first, but they said--they +said you were out." + +"I was; I only came in at seven, and then I found your messages, and I +caught the first train possible." + +"It doesn't matter," said Iris, wearily. "There's nothing you can +do--nothing anybody can do. Oh, Win, it's horrible!" + +"Of course it is, Iris. But I'm so in the dark. Tell me all about it." + +"Oh, I can't. I can't seem to talk about it. Mrs. Bowen will tell you." + +The little lady told all she knew, and then, one of the detectives +appeared to question Bannard. He explained his presence and told who he +was and then asked to go into his aunt's sitting room. + +"Not just now," said the man, whose name was Hughes, "the doctors are +busy in there, with the coroner." + +"Why so late," asked Bannard; "what have they been doing all the +afternoon?" + +"Doctor Littell came at once," explained Mrs. Bowen, "he's her own +doctor, you know. But that coroner, Doctor Timken, never got here till +this evening. Why, here's Mr. Chapin!" + +Charles Chapin, who was Mrs. Pell's lawyer, entered, and also Mr. Bowen, +so there was quite a group in waiting when the doctors came out of the +closed room. + +"It's the strangest case imaginable," said Coroner Timken, his face +white and terrified. "There's not the least possibility of suicide--and +yet there's no explanation for a murder." + +"Why do you say that?" asked Chapin, who had heard little of the +details. + +"The body is terribly injured. There are livid bruises on her chest, +shoulders and upper arms. There are marks on her wrists, as if she had +been bound by ropes, and similar marks on her ankles." + +"Incredible!" cried Mr. Chapin. "Bound?" + +"The marks can mean nothing else. They are as if cords had been tightly +drawn, and on one ankle the stocking is slightly stained with blood." + +"What?" exclaimed Mrs. Bowen. + +"Yes, and the flesh beneath the stain is abraded round the ankle, and +the skin broken. The other ankle shows slight marks of the cord, but it +did not cut into the flesh on that side. Her wrists, too, show red marks +and indentations, as of cords. It is inexplicable." + +"But the bruises?" pursued Mr. Chapin, "and the awful wound on her +face?" + +"There is no doubt that she was attacked for the purpose of robbery. +Moreover, the thief was looking for something in particular. It is clear +that he stole money or valuables, but the state of the desk and safe +prove a desperate hunt for some paper or article of special value. Also +the pocket, cut and torn from the skirt, proves a determination to +secure the treasure. As we reconstruct the crime, the intruder +intimidated Mrs. Pell by threats and by physical violence; tied her +while search was made through her room; and then, in a rage of +disappointment, flung the old lady to the floor, where she hit her head +on a sharp-pointed brass knob of the fender. This penetrated her temple +and caused her death. These things are facts; also the state of the +room, the overturned table and chairs, the broken lamp, the ransacked +desk and safe--all these are facts; but what theory can account for the +disappearance of the murderer from the locked room?" + +There was no answer until Detective Hughes said, "I've always been told +that the more mysterious and insoluble a crime seems to be, the easier +it is to solve it." + +"You have, eh?" returned the coroner; "then get busy on this one. It's +beyond me. Why, that woman's wrist is sprained, if not broken, she has +some internal injuries and she was suffering from shock and fright. The +attack was diabolical! It may be that the murder was unpremeditated, but +the mauling and bruising of the old lady was the work of a strong man +and a hardened wretch." + +"Why didn't she scream sooner?" asked Hughes, who was listening +intently. He had been detailed on other duties while his confreres +investigated the scene of the crime. + +"Gagged, probably," answered Timken. "There are slight marks at the +corners of her mouth which indicate a gag was used, for a time at least. +How long was it," he said abruptly, turning to Iris, "that your aunt was +in that room alone? I mean alone, so far as you knew?" + +"I don't know; I was up in my own room all the time after dinner, and--I +don't know what time it was when they called me--I seem to have lost all +track of time----" + +"Don't bother the girl," said Mrs. Bowen. "Polly, you tell about the +time." + +The servants were in and out of the room, now clustered at the doorway, +now hurrying off on errands and back again. + +"It musta been about ha' past three when I heard her scream," said +Polly, "or maybe a bit earlier, but not much. I was in the dining room, +settin' the sideboard to rights after dinner, and I heard her holler." + +"And you went to the door at once?" + +"Yes; just 's quick 's I could. But the door was locked----" + +"Was that usual?" + +"Yes, sir, she often locks it when she takes a nap Sunday afternoons. +And then I went and called Purdy, and we couldn't get in." + +"Yes, I know about the barred windows and so on. Did you hear any +further sounds from Mrs. Pell?" + +"Some; sorta movin' around an' faint moanin's. But the truth is--we +thought she was a foolin' us." + +"Fooling you?" + +"Yes, sir. Mrs. Pell, she was great for jokin'. Many's the time she's +hollered, 'Help! Polly!' and when I'd get there, she'd laugh fit to kill +at me. She was that way, sir. She was always foolin' us." + +"Is this true?" asked Timken, turning to the others. + +They all corroborated Polly's statements. Even Chapin, the lawyer, told +of jests and tricks his wealthy client had played on him, and Winston +Bannard declared he had suffered so much from his aunt's whims that he +had been forced to move away. + +"And you, Miss Clyde, did she so tease you?" + +"Indeed she did," said Iris. "I think I was her favorite victim. +Scarcely a day passed that she did not annoy and distress me by some +practical joke. You know about the ink, this noon----" she turned to +Mrs. Bowen. + +"Yes," said that lady, but she looked grave and thoughtful. + +"But surely," pursued the coroner, "one could tell the difference +between the screams of a victim in mortal agony, and those of a jest!" + +"No, sir," and Polly shook her head. "Mrs. Pell was that clever, she'd +make you think she'd been hurt awful, when she was just trickin' you. +But, any ways, sir, me an' Purdy we did all we could, and we couldn't +get in. Then Campbell, he come, and helped to break down the door----" + +"And you're sure the murderer couldn't have slipped through as you +opened the door?" + +"Not a chance!" spoke up Campbell. "We smashed it open, the lock just +splintered out of the jamb, as you can see for yourself, and we were all +gathered in a clump on this side. No, sir, the room was quiet as +death--and empty, save for Mrs. Pell, herself." + +"And she was dead, then?" + +"Yes, sir," asseverated Purdy, solemnly. "I ain't no doctor, but I made +sure she was dead. She'd died within a minute or so, she was most as +warm as in life, and the blood was still a flowin' from her head where +she was struck." + +"Did you move anything in the room?" + +"No, sir, only so much as was necessary to get around. The table that +was upset had a 'lectric lamp on it, which had a long danglin' green +cord, 'cause it was put in after the reg'lar wirin' was done. I coiled +up that 'ere cord, and picked up the pieces of broken glass, so's we +could step around. But I left the bag and pocket-book and all, just +where they was flung. And the litter from the desk, all over the floor, +I didn't touch that, neither--nor I didn't touch the body." + +Purdy's voice faltered and his old eyes filled with tears. + +"You did well," commended the coroner, nodding his head kindly at him, +"just one more question. Was Mrs. Pell in her usual good spirits +yesterday? Did she do anything or say anything that seemed out of the +ordinary?" + +"No," and Purdy shook his head. "I don't think so, do you, Polly?" + +"Not that I noticed," said his wife. "She cut up an awful trick on Miss +Iris, but that wasn't to say unusual." + +"What was it?" and the coroner listened to an account of the date with +ink in it. The story was told by Mrs. Bowen, as Iris refused to talk at +all. + +"A pretty mean trick," was the coroner's opinion. "Didn't you resent it, +Miss Clyde?" + +"She did not," spoke up the rector, in a decided way. "Miss Clyde is a +young woman of too much sense and also of too much affection for her +dear aunt, to resent a good-humored jest----" + +"Good-humored jest!" exclaimed Hughes. "Going some! a jest like +that--spoilin' a young girl's pretty Sunday frock----" + +"Never mind, Hughes," reproved Timken, "we're not judging Mrs. Pell's +conduct now. This is an investigation, a preliminary inquiry, rather, +but not a judgment seat. Miss Clyde, I must ask that you answer me a +few questions. You left your aunt's presence directly after your guests +had departed?" + +"Within a few moments of their leaving." + +"She was then in her usual health and good spirits?" + +"So far as I know." + +"Any conversation passed between you?' + +"Only a little." + +"Amicable?' + +"What do you mean by that?" + +"Friendly--affectionate--not quarrelsome." + +"It was not exactly affectionate, as I told her I was displeased at her +spoiling my gown." + +"Ah. And what did she say?" + +"That she would buy me another." + +"Did that content you?" + +"I wasn't discontented. I was annoyed at her unkind trick, and I told +her so. That is all." + +"Of course that is all," again interrupted Mr. Bowen. "I can answer for +the cordial relationship between aunt and niece and I can vouch for the +fact that these merry jests didn't really stir up dissension between +these two estimable people. Why, only to-day, Mrs. Pell was dilating on +the wonderful legacies she meant to bestow on Miss Clyde. She also +referred to a jeweled chalice for my church, but I am sure these +remarks were in no way prompted by any thought of immediate death. On +the contrary, she was in gayer spirits than I have ever seen her." + +"I think she was over-excited," said Mrs. Bowen, thoughtfully. "Don't +you, Iris? She was giggling in an almost hysterical manner, it seemed to +me." + +"I didn't notice," said Iris, wearily. "Aunt Ursula was a creature of +moods. She was grave or gay without apparent reason. I put up with her +silly jokes usually, but to-day's performance seemed unnecessary and +unkind. However, it doesn't matter now." + +"No," declared Winston Bannard, "and it does no good to rake over the +old lady's queer ways. We all know about her habit of playing tricks, +and I, for one, don't wonder that Polly thought she screamed out to +trick somebody. Nor does it matter. If Polly hadn't thought that, she +couldn't have done any more than she did do to get into that room as +soon as possible. Could she, now?" + +"No," agreed the coroner. "Nor does it really affect our problem of how +the murder was committed." + +"Let me have a look into that room," said Bannard, suddenly. + +"You a detective?" asked Timken. + +"Not a bit of it, but I want to see its condition." + +"Come on in," said the other. "They've put Mrs. Pell's body on the +couch, but, except for that, nothing's been touched." + +Hughes went in with Bannard and the coroner, and the three men were +joined by Lawyer Chapin. + +Silently they took in the details. The still figure on the couch, with +face solemnly covered, seemed to make conversation undesirable. + +Hughes alertly moved about peering at things but touching almost +nothing. Bannard and Mr. Chapin stood motionless gazing at the evidences +of crime. + +"Got a cigarette?" whispered Hughes to Bannard and mechanically the +young man took out his case and offered it. The detective took one and +then continued his minute examination of the room and its appointments. + +At last he sat down in front of the desk and began to look through such +papers as remained in place. There were many pigeonholes and +compartments, which held small memorandum books and old letters and +stationery. + +Hughes opened and closed several books, and then suddenly turned to +Bannard with this question. + +"You haven't been up here to-day, have you, Mr. Bannard? I mean, before +you came up this evening." + +"N-no, certainly not," was the answer, and the man looked decidedly +annoyed. "What are you getting at, Mr. Hughes?" + +"Oh, nothing. Where have you been all day, Mr. Bannard?" + +"In New York city.' + +"Not been out of it?" + +"I went out this morning for a bicycle ride, my favorite form of +exercise. Am I being quizzed?" + +"You are. You state that you were not up here, in this room, this +afternoon, about three o'clock?" + +"I certainly do affirm that! Why?" + +"Because I observe here on the desk a half-smoked cigarette of the same +kind you just gave me. + +"And you think that is incriminating evidence! A little far-fetched, Mr. +Hughes." + +"Also, on this chair is a New York paper of to-day's date, and not the +one that is usually taken in this house." + +"Indeed!" but Winston Bannard had turned pale. + +"And," continued Hughes, holding up a check-book, "this last stub in +Mrs. Pell's check-book shows that she made out to _you to-day_, a check +for five thousand dollars!" + +"What!" cried Mr. Chapin. + +"Yes, sir, a check stub, in Mrs. Pell's own writing, dated _to-day_! +Where is that check, Mr. Winston Bannard, and when did you get it? And +why did you kill your aunt afterward? What were you searching this room +for? Come, sir, speak up!" + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +TIMKEN AND HIS INQUIRIES + + +"You must be out of your mind, Mr. Hughes," said Bannard; but, as a +matter of fact, he looked more as if he himself were demented. His face +wore a wild, frightened expression, and his fingers twitched nervously, +as he picked at the edge of his coat. "Of course, I haven't been up here +to-day, before I came this evening. That _New York Herald_ was never in +my possession. Because I live in New York City, I'm not the only one who +reads the 'Herald.'" + +"But your aunt subscribed only to _The Times_. Where did that 'Herald' +come from?" + +"I'm sure I don't know. It must have been left here by somebody--I +suppose----" + +"And this half-burnt cigarette, of the same brand as those you have in +your pocket case?" + +"Other men smoke those, too, I assume." + +"Well, then, the check, which this stub shows to have been drawn to-day +to you. Where is that?" + +"Not in my possession. If my aunt made that out to me it was doubtless +for a present and she may have sent it to me in a letter; in which case +it will reach my city address to-morrow morning, or she may have put it +somewhere up here for safe keeping. + +"All most unlikely," said Mr. Chapin, shaking his head. "Did Mrs. Pell +send any letters to the post-office to-day, does any one know?" + +Campbell was called, and he said that his mistress had given him a +number of letters to mail when he took Miss Clyde to church that +morning. + +"Was one of them directed to Mr. Bannard," asked Hughes. + +"How should I know?" said the chauffeur, turning red. + +"Oh, it's no crime to glance at the addresses on envelopes," said +Hughes, encouragingly. "Curiosity may not be an admirable trait, but it +isn't against the law. And it will help us a lot if you can answer my +question." + +"Then, no, sir, there wasn't," and Campbell looked ashamed but positive. + +"And there was no other chance for Mrs. Pell to mail a letter to-day?" +went on Hughes. + +"No, sir; none of us has been to the village since, and the post-office +closes at noon on Sunday anyhow." + +"All that proves nothing," said Bannard, impatiently. "If my aunt drew +that check to me it is probably still in this room somewhere, and if not +it is quite likely she destroyed it, in a sudden change of mind. She has +done that before, in my very presence. You know, Mr. Chapin, how +uncertain her decisions are." + +"That's true," the lawyer agreed, "I've drawn up papers for her often, +only to have her tear them up before my very eyes, and demand a document +of exactly opposite intent." + +"So, you see," insisted Bannard, who had regained his composure, "that +check means nothing, the New York newspaper is not incriminating and the +cigarette is not enough to prove my guilty presence at the time of this +crime. Unless the police force of Berrien can do better than that, I +suggest getting a worthwhile detective from the city." + +Hughes looked angrily at the speaker, but said nothing. + +"That is not a bad suggestion," said Chapin. "This is a big crime and a +most mysterious one. It involves the large fortune of Mrs. Pell, which, +I happen to know, was mostly invested in jewels. These gems she has so +secretly and securely hidden that even I have not the remotest idea +where they are. Is it not conceivable that they were in that wall-safe, +and have been stolen by the murderer?" + +"Good Lord!" exclaimed Hughes. "I didn't know she kept her fortune +here!" + +"Nor do I know it," returned Chapin. "But, doubtless, something of value +was in that safe, now empty, and I only surmise that it may have been +her great collection of precious stones." + +"Have you her will?" asked Bannard, abruptly. + +"Yes, her latest one," replied Chapin. "You know she made a new one on +the average of once a month or so." + +"Who inherits?" + +"I don't know. A box, bequeathed to Miss Clyde and a--something similar +to you, probably contain her principal bequests. This house, however, +she has left to another relative, and there are other bequests. I do not +deny the will is that of an eccentric woman, as will be shown at its +reading, in due time." + +"That's all right," broke in the coroner, "but what I'm interested in is +catching the murderer." + +"And solving the mystery of his getting in," supplemented Hughes. + +"She might have let him in," assumed Timken. + +"All right, but how did he get out?" + +"That's the mystery," mused Chapin. "I can see no light on that +question, whatever, can you, Winston?" + +"No," said Bannard, shortly. "There's no secret entrance to this room, +of that I'm positive. And with the windows barred, and those people at +the door, as it was broken open, there seems no explanation." + +"Oh, pshaw," said Timken, "that's all for future consideration. The lady +couldn't have killed herself. Somebody got in and the same somebody got +out. It's up to the detectives to find out how. If a human being could +do it, and did do it, another human being can find out how. But let us +get at the possible criminal. Motive is the first consideration." + +"The heirs are always looked upon as having motive," said Lawyer Chapin, +"but, in this case, I feel sure the principal heirs are Miss Clyde and +Mr. Bannard, and I cannot suspect either of them." + +"Iris--ridiculous!" exclaimed Bannard. "For Heaven's sake, don't drag +her name in!" + +"Where is Miss Clyde's bedroom?" asked Hughes, suddenly. + +"Directly above this room," returned Bannard. "Are you going to suggest +that she came down here by a concealed staircase, and maltreated her +aunt in this ferocious manner? Mr. Hughes, do confine yourself to +theories that at least have a slight claim to common sense!" + +And yet, when the coroner held his inquest next day, more than one who +listened to the evidence leaned toward the suggestion of Iris Clyde's +possible connection with the crime. + +The girl's own manner was against her, or rather against her chance of +gaining the sympathies of the audience. + +The inquest was held in Pellbrook. The big living room was filled with +interested listeners, who also crowded the hall, and drifted into the +dining room. The room where Mrs. Pell had died was closed to all, but +curiosity-seekers hovered around it outside, and inspected the steel +protected windows, and discoursed wisely of secret passages and +concealed exits. + +As the one known to have last spoken with her aunt, Iris was closely +questioned. But her replies were of no help in getting at the truth. She +admitted that she and her aunt quarreled often, and agreed that that was +the real reason she had decided to go to New York to live. + +But her answers were curt, even angry at times, and her manner was +haughty and resentful. + +Great emphasis was laid by the coroner on the tenor of the last words +that passed between Iris and her aunt. + +The girl admitted that they were quarrelsome words, but declared she did +not remember exactly what had been said. + +Something in the expression of the maid, Agnes, caught the eye of the +coroner, and he suddenly turned to her, saying, "Did you overhear this +conversation?" + +Taken aback by the unexpected question, Agnes stammered, "Yes, sir, I +did." + +"Where were you?" + +"In the dining room, clearing the table." + +"Where was Miss Clyde?" + +"In the hall, just about to go upstairs." + +"And Mrs. Pell?" + +"In the hall, by the living-room door." + +"Why were they in the hall?" + +"Mr. and Mrs. Bowen had just left, and the ladies had said good-bye to +them at the front door, and then they stood talking to each other a few +moments." + +"What were they talking about?" + +Agnes hesitated, but on further insistence of the coroner she said, +"Miss Iris was complaining to Mrs. Pell about her habit of playing +tricks." + +"Was Miss Clyde angry at her aunt?" + +"She sounded so." + +"Certainly I was," broke in Iris. "I had stood that foolishness just as +long as I could----" + +"You are not the witness, for the moment, Miss Clyde," said the coroner, +severely. "Agnes, what did Mrs. Pell say to her niece in response to +her chiding?" + +"She only laughed, and said that Miss Iris looked like a circus clown." + +"Then what did Miss Clyde say?" + +"She said that Mrs. Pell was a fiend in human shape and that she hated +her. Then she ran upstairs and went into her own room and slammed the +door." + +"Have you any reason to think, Agnes, that there is any secret mode of +connection between Mrs. Pell's sitting room and Miss Clyde's bedroom, +directly above it?" + +"Why, no, sir, I never heard of such a thing." + +"Absurd!" broke in Winston Bannard, "utterly absurd. If there were such +a thing, it could certainly be discovered by your expert detectives." + +"There isn't any," declared Hughes, positively. "I've sounded the walls +and examined the floor and ceiling, and there's not a chance of it. The +way the murderer got out of that locked room is a profound mystery, but +it won't be solved by means of a secret entrance." + +"Yet what other possibility can be suggested?" went on Timken, +thoughtfully. "And the connection needn't be directly with Miss Clyde's +room. Suppose there is a sliding wall panel, or an exit to the cellar, +in some way." + +"But there isn't," insisted Hughes. "I'm not altogether ignorant of +architecture, and there is no such thing in any part of that room. +Moreover, how could any outsider come to the house, get in, and get into +that room, without any member of the household seeing his approach? The +two women servants were in the house, but Campbell, the chauffeur, and +Purdy, the gardener, were out of doors, and could have seen anyone who +came in at the gate." + +"Might not the intruder have entered while the family was at dinner, and +concealed himself in Mrs. Pell's sitting room, until she went in there +after dinner?" + +"Possibly," agreed Hughes, "but, in that case, how did the intruder get +out?" + +And that was the sticking-point with every theory. No one could think of +or imagine any way to account for the exit of the criminal. Mrs. Pell +had undoubtedly been murdered. Her injuries were not self-inflicted. She +had been brutally maltreated by a strong, angry person, before the final +blow had killed her. The overturned table, and the ransacked room, the +empty pocket-book and handbag were the work of a desperate thief, and it +really seemed absurd to connect the name of Iris Clyde with such +conditions. More plausible was the theory of Bannard's guilt, but, +again, how did he get away? + +"There is a possibility of locking a door from the outside," said +Coroner Timken. + +"I've thought of that," returned Hughes, "but it wasn't done in this +case. I've tried to lock that door from outside, with a pair of nippers, +and the lock is such that it can't be done. And, too, Polly heard Mrs. +Pell's screams at the moment of her murder--the criminal couldn't have +run out, and locked the door outside, and gone through this room without +having been seen by someone. You were in the dining room, Polly?" + +"Yes, sir, and I ran right in here; there was no time for anybody to get +away without my seeing him." + +The facts, as testified to, were so clear cut and definite, that there +seemed little to probe into. It was a deadlock. Mrs. Pell had been +robbed and murdered. Apparently there was no way in which this could +have been done, and yet it had been done. The two who could be said to +have a motive were Iris Clyde and Winston Bannard. It might even be said +that they had opportunity, yet it was clearly shown that they could not +have escaped unseen. + +Bannard was further questioned as to his movements on Sunday. + +He declared that he had risen late, and had gone for a bicycle ride, a +recreation of which he was fond. + +"Where did you ride?" asked Timken. + +"Up Broadway and on along its continuation as far as Red Fox Inn." + +"That's about half way up here!" + +"I know it. I stopped there for luncheon, about noon, and after that I +returned to New York." + +"You lunched at the Inn at noon?" + +"Shortly after twelve, I think it was. The Inn people will verify this." + +"They know you?" + +"Not personally, but doubtless the waiter who served me will remember my +presence." + +"And, after luncheon, you returned to the city?" + +"I did." + +"Reaching your home at what time?" + +"Oh, I didn't go to my rooms until about twilight. It was a lovely day, +and I came home slowly, stopping here and there when I passed a bit of +woods or a pleasant spot to rest. I often spend a day in the open." + +"You had your newspaper with you?" + +"I did." + +"What one?" + +"The 'Herald.'" But even as Bannard said the words, he caught himself, +and looked positively frightened. + +"Ah, yes. There is even now a 'Herald' of yesterday's date in Mrs. +Pell's sitting room." + +"But that isn't mine. That--that one isn't unfolded--I mean, it hasn't +been unfolded. You can see that by its condition. Mine, I read through, +and refolded it untidily, even inside out." + +"Fine talk!" said Timken, with a slight sneer. "But it doesn't get you +anywhere. That New York paper, that cigarette end, and that check stub +seem to me to need pretty strict accounting for. Your explanations are +glib, but a little thin. I don't see how you got out of the room, or +Miss Clyde either; but that consideration would apply equally to any +other intruder. And we have no other direction in which to look for the +person who robbed Mrs. Pell." + +"Leave Miss Clyde's name out," said Bannard, shortly. "If you want to +suspect me, go ahead, but it's too absurd to fasten it on a woman." + +"Perhaps you both know more than you've told----" + +"I don't!" declared Iris, her eyes snapping at the implication. "I was +angry at my aunt. I've told you the truth about that, but I didn't kill +her. Nor did her nephew. Because we are her probable heirs does not mean +that we're her murderers!" + +"Your protestation doesn't carry much weight," said Timken, coldly. +"We're after proofs, and we'll get them yet. Mr. Bowen, will you take +the stand?" + +The rector somewhat ponderously acquiesced, and the coroner put some +questions to him, which like the preceding queries brought little new +light on the mystery. + +But one statement roused a slight wave of suspicion toward Iris Clyde. +This was the assertion that Mrs. Pell had said she would call her lawyer +to her the next day, to change her will. + +"With what intent?" asked Timken. + +"She promised that she would have all her jewels set into a chalice, and +present it to me for my church." + +"Oh, she didn't mean that, Mr. Bowen," Iris exclaimed. + +"Why didn't she? She said it, and I have no reason to think she was not +sincere." + +"She may have meant it when she said it," put in Lawyer Chapin, "but she +was likely to change her mind before she changed her will." + +"That's mere supposition on your part," objected Mr. Bowen. + +"But I know my late client better than you do. She changed her will +frequently, but her fortune was always left to her relatives, not to any +institution or charity." + +"She said that she had never thought of it before," Mr. Bowen related, +"but that she considered it a fine idea." + +"Oh, then you proposed it?" said Timken. + +"Yes, I did," replied the clergyman, "I suggested it half jestingly, but +when Mrs. Pell acquiesced with evident gladness, I certainly hoped she +would put at least part of her fortune into such a good cause." + +"You heard this discussion, Miss Clyde?" asked the coroner. + +"Of course I did; it occurred at the dinner table." + +"And were you not afraid your aunt would make good her promise?" + +"She didn't really promise----" + +"Afraid then that she would carry out the minister's suggestion." + +"I didn't really think much about it. If you mean, did I kill her to +prevent such a possibility, I answer I certainly did not!" + +And so the futile inquiry went on. Nobody could offer any evidence that +pointed toward a solution of the mysterious murder. Nobody could fasten +the crime on anyone, or even hint a suggestion of which way to look for +the criminal. + +Sam Torrey, a brother of Agnes, the maid, testified that he had seen a +strange man prowling round the Pell house Sunday morning, but as the lad +was reputed to be of a defective mind, and as the tragedy occurred on +Sunday afternoon, little attention was paid to him. + +Roger Downing, a young man of the village, said he saw a stranger near +Pellbrook about noon. But this, too, meant nothing. + +No testimony mentioned a stranger or any intruder near the Pell place in +the afternoon. The Bowens had left the house at about three, and Polly +heard her mistress scream less than half an hour later. No one could fix +the time exactly, but it was assumed to be about twenty or twenty-five +minutes past the hour. + +This meant, the coroner pointed out, that the murderer acted rapidly; +for to upset the room as he had done, while the mistress of the house +was bound and gagged, watching him; then afterward--as Timken +reconstructed the crime--to torture the poor woman in his efforts to +find the jewels or whatever he was after; and then, in a final frenzy of +hatred, to dash her to the floor and kill her by knocking her head on +the point of the fender, all meant the desperate, speedy work of a +double-dyed villain. As to his immediate disappearance, which took place +between the time when he dashed her to the floor and when Purdy broke in +the door, the coroner was unable to offer any explanation whatever. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +DOWNING'S EVIDENCE + + +And so the case went to the coroner's jury. And after some discussion +they returned the inevitable verdict of murder by person or persons +unknown. Some of them preferred the phrase, "causes unknown." But others +pointed out that the physical causes of Mrs. Pell's death were only too +evident; the question was: Who was the perpetrator of the ghastly deed? + +And so the foreman somewhat importantly announced that the deceased met +her death at the hands of persons unknown, and in most mysterious and +inexplicable circumstances, but recommended that every possible effort +be made to trace any connection that might exist between the tragedy and +the heirs to the fortune of the deceased. + +A distinct murmur of disapproval sounded through the room, yet there +were those who wagged assenting heads. + +The inquest had been a haphazard affair in some ways. Berrien was +possessed of only a limited police force, and its head, Inspector Clare, +was a man whose knowledge of police matters consisted of an education +beyond his intelligence. Moreover, the case itself was so weirdly +tragic, so out of all reason or belief, that the whole force was at its +wits' end. The bluecoats at the doors of Pellbrook were as interested in +the village gossip as the villagers themselves. And though entrance was +made difficult, most of the influential members of the community were +assembled to hear the inquiry into this strange matter. + +There were so few material witnesses, those who were questioned knew so +little, and, more than all, the mystery of the murder in the locked room +was so baffling, that there was, of course, no possibility of other than +an open verdict. + +"It's all very well," said the inspector, pompously, "to bring in that +verdict. Yes, that's all very well. But the murderers must be found. A +crime like this must not go unpunished. It's mysterious, of course, but +the truth must be ferreted out. We're only at the beginning. There is +much to be learned beside the meager evidence we have already +collected." + +The mass of people had broken up into small groups, all of whom were +confabbing with energy. There were several strangers present, for the +startling details of the case, as reported in the city papers, had +brought a number of curious visitors from the metropolis. + +One of these, a quiet-mannered, middle-aged man, edged nearer to where +the inspector was talking to Bannard and Iris Clyde. Hughes was +listening, also Mr. Bowen and Mr. Chapin. + +"It's this way," the inspector was saying, in his unpolished manner of +speech, "we've got her alive at three, talking to her niece, and we've +got her dying at half-past three, and calling for help. Between these +two stated times, the murderer attacked her, manhandled her pretty +severely and flung her down to her death, besides ransacking the room, +and stealing nobody knows what or how much. Seems to me a remarkable +affair like that ought to be easier to get at than a simple everyday +robbery." + +"It ought to be, I think, too," said the stranger, in a mild, pleasant +voice. "May I ask how you're going about it?" + +"Who are you, sir?" asked Clare. "You got any right here? A reporter?" + +"No, not a reporter. An humble citizen of New York city, not connected +with the police force in any way. But I'm interested in this mystery, +and I judge you have in mind some definite plan to work on." + +Mollified, even flattered at the man's evident faith in him, the +inspector replied, "Yes, sir, yes, I may say I have. Perhaps not for +immediate disclosure, no, not that, but I have a pretty strong belief +that we'll yet round up the villains----" + +"You assume more than one person, then?" + +"I think so, yes, I may say I think so. But that's of little moment. If +we can run down the clues we have, if we can follow their pointing +fingers, we shall know the criminal, and learn whether or not he had +accomplices in his vile work." + +"Quite so," and with a smile and a nod, the stranger drifted away. + +Another man came near, then, and frankly introduced himself as Joe +Young, from a nearby town, saying he wanted to be allowed to examine the +wall-safe said to have been rifled by the murderer. + +"My father built that safe," he explained his interest, "and I think it +might lead to some further enlightenment." + +Detective Hughes accompanied Young to the closed room that had been Mrs. +Pell's sanctum, and they entered alone. + +"Don't touch things," cautioned Hughes. "I've not really had a chance +yet to go over the place with a fine tooth comb. They've taken the poor +lady's body away, but otherwise nothing's been touched----" + +"Oh, I won't touch anything," agreed Young, "but I couldn't help a sort +of a notion that my father might have built more than a safe--he was a +skilful carpenter and joiner, and Mrs. Pell was a tricky woman. I mean +by that, she was mighty fond of tricking people and she easily could +have had a secret cupboard, or even an entrance from somewhere behind +that safe." + +But no amount of searching could discover the slightest possibility of +such a thing. The open safe was an ordinary, built-in-the-wall affair, +not large enough to suggest an entrance for a person. Nor was there any +secret compartment behind it or anything other than showed on the +surface. The door, when closed, had been covered by a picture, which had +been taken down and flung on the floor. The safe was absolutely empty, +and no one knew what it had contained. + +Young was decidedly disappointed. "I had no personal motive in looking +this thing up," he said, "I only hoped that my knowledge of my father's +clever work might lead to some discovery that would prove helpful to you +detectives or to the family. But it's plain to be seen there's no +hocus-pocus about this thing. It's as simple a safe as I ever saw. +Nothing, in fact, but a concealed cupboard with a combination lock. +Wonder who opened it? The murderer?" + +"I don't think so," rejoined Hughes. "I think the intruder, whoever he +was, compelled the old lady to open it for him." + +"You stick to the masculine gender, I see, in your assumptions." + +"I do. I don't think for a minute that Miss Clyde is involved." + +"But her room is just above this----" + +"Oh, that's what you're after! A secret connection between this room and +Miss Clyde's by way of the safe!" + +"Yes, that's what I had in mind. But there's not the slightest +possibility of it, is there?" + +"No, not any other secret passage of any sort or kind. Oh, I've +investigated fully in that respect. I meant, I haven't searched for tiny +clues and little scraps of evidence. Straws, in fact, do show which way +the wind blows." + +"Well, I don't suppose I can be of any help, but if I can, call on me. I +live in East Fallville, only twelve miles away, and I'd like nothing +better than to dig into this mystery, if I'm wanted." + +"Thank you, Mr. Young, I appreciate your helpful spirit, and I'll call +on you if it's available. But I don't mind owning up that we have more +people to look into this matter than directions in which to look. As you +may imagine, it's a baffling thing to get hold of. I confess I hardly +know which way to turn." + +As the two men returned to the living room, Hughes overheard some angry +words between Bannard and Roger Downing, one of the dwellers in the +village. + +"But I saw you," Downing was saying. + +"You think you did," returned Bannard, "but you're mistaken." + +"When?" asked Hughes, suddenly and sharply, of Downing. + +"Sunday about noon. Win Bannard was skulking around in the woods just +back of this house----" + +"Skulking! Take back that word!" cried Bannard. + +"Well, you were sauntering around, then, dawdling around, whatever you +want it called, but you were there!" + +"I was not," declared Bannard. + +"And I saw your little motor car waiting for you a bit farther along the +road----" + +"You did!" and Bannard laughed shortly, "well, as it happens I don't own +a motor car!" + +"Nonsense, Roger," said Hughes, "Win Bannard wasn't up here Sunday +noon--where would he have been concealed until three o'clock----" + +"In his aunt's room----" + +"Take that back!" shouted Bannard, "do you know what you're saying?" + +"Hush up, both of you," cautioned Hughes. "For Heaven's sake don't get +up a scene over nothing! But, if you saw a small motor car along the +road near here, I want to know about it. What time was this, Downing?" + +"'Long about noon, I tell you," was the sulky reply. "It might have been +a few minutes before. There was no one in the car; it was drawn up by +the side of the road, not more'n two hundred yards from the house." + +"And you thought you saw Mr. Bannard. Of course, it was someone else, +but it's important to know about this. I can't help thinking whoever +committed that murder was hidden in the room for some time +beforehand----" + +"And how did he get away?" asked Bannard. + +"If you ask me that once more, I'll pound you! I don't _know_ how he got +away. But he did get away, and we'll find out how, when we find our man. +That's my theory of procedure, if you want to know; let the mystery of +the locked room wait, and devote all possible effort to finding the +murderer. Then the rest will unravel itself." + +"Easier said than done," sneered Downing, "if you're going to discard +all evidence or statements that anyone makes to you!" + +"If you were so sure you saw Mr. Bannard on Sunday morning, why didn't +you so state at the inquest?" + +"I wasn't asked, and besides 'twas about noon, and old Timken only asked +about the afternoon----" + +"And besides," broke in Bannard, "you weren't sure you did see me, and +you weren't sure you saw anybody, and you made up this whole yarn, +anyhow!" + +"Nothing of the sort, and you'll find out, Win Bannard, when I tell all +I know----" + +"Quit it now," ordered Hughes; "if you've anything to tell of real +importance, Roger, tell it to me when we're alone. Don't sing out your +information all over the place." + +"You're going straight ahead with your investigations, then?" Bannard +asked of the detective. + +"Yes, but we can't do much till after the funeral, and----" + +"And what?" + +"And after the reading of the will. You know motive is a strong factor +in unraveling a murder case. Why, s'pose some of the servants receive +large legacies; and you know how queer Mrs. Pell was--she might well +leave a fortune to those Purdys." + +"Oh, they didn't do it," and Bannard tossed off the idea as absurd. + +"You don't know. Leaving out, as I said before, the question of how the +villain got in or out, it might easily have been one or more of the +servants. And other help is hired beside the regular house crowd. Take +it from me, it was somebody in the house, and not an intruder from +outside." + +"And take it from me, you don't know what you're talking about," said +Roger Downing, as he angrily stalked away. + +Bannard had said very little to Iris since his coming to Pellbrook, but +he now sought her out, and asked her what she thought about the whole +matter. + +"I don't know what to think," Iris replied to his question, "but I don't +know as it matters so much about solving the mystery. Poor Aunt Ursula +is dead, she was killed, but I don't see how we can find out who did it. +I think, Win, it must have been somebody we don't know about--say, +someone connected with her early life--you know, she has had a more or +less varied career." + +"How do you mean? She lived here very quietly." + +"Yes, but before she came here. Before we knew her, even before we were +born. And then, her jewels. Nobody ever owned a splendid collection of +jewels but what they were beset by robbers and burglars to get the +treasure." + +"Then you think it an ordinary jewel robbery?" + +"Not ordinary! Far from that! But I can't help thinking that was what +the thieves were after. Why, you know her jewels are world famous." + +"What do you mean by world famous?" + +"Well, maybe not that, but well known among jewelers and jewel +collectors. So they would, of course, be known to professional jewel +thieves." + +"That's so. Where are they anyway?" + +"The thieves?" + +"No; the jewels." + +"I haven't the least idea----" + +"Haven't you? Honestly!" + +"Indeed, I haven't." + +"I don't believe you." + +"Why, Win Bannard, what do you mean!" + +"Oh, I oughtn't to say that, but truly, Iris, I supposed of course you +knew where Aunt Ursula kept 'em." + +"Well, I don't. I've not the slightest notion of her hiding place." + +"Hiding place! Aren't they in a safe deposit, or something of that +sort?" + +"They may be, but I don't think so. But it will be told in the will. Mr. +Chapin is so ridiculously secretive about the will! Sometimes I think +she may have left them all to someone else after all." + +"Someone else?" + +"Yes, someone besides us. I think, don't you, that we ought to be her +principal heirs? But she promised me, always, her wonderful diamond +pin." + +"Huh! I don't think one diamond pin so much! Why, she has----" + +"I know, but she always spoke of this particular diamond pin that she +destined for me as something especially valuable. I expect it is a sort +of Kohinoor." + +"Oh, I didn't know about that. And what is she going to leave me, to +match up to that?" + +"I don't know, I'm sure. But we sound very mercenary, talking like this, +before the poor lady is even buried." + +"To be honest, Iris, I'm terribly sorry for the way the poor thing was +killed, but I can't grieve very deeply, unless I'm a hypocrite. As you +know, Aunt Ursula and I weren't good friends----" + +"Who could be friends with Aunt Ursula? I tried my best, Win, my very +best, but she was too trying to live with! You've no idea what I went +through!" + +"Oh, yes, I've an idea. I lived with her some years myself. Well, we'll +say nothing but good of her now she's gone. I say, Iris, let's take a +walk down to the village and see Browne, the jeweler." + +"What for?" + +"Ask him about her jewels." + +"Oh, no, I think that would be horrid. You go, if you like. I shan't." + +But Iris went out on the verandah with Bannard, and they ran into Sam +Torrey, the brother of Agnes. + +"Hello, Sam," said Bannard. "What's that you were saying about seeing a +man around here Sunday morning." + +"Not morning, but noon," declared Sam, gazing with lack-luster eyes at +his questioner. + +"Brace up, now, Sam, tell me all you know," and Bannard looked the boy +squarely in the eye. + +Sam, about seventeen, or so, was of undeveloped intellect, called by the +neighbors half-witted. But if pinned down to a subject and his +attention kept on it, he could talk pretty nearly rationally. + +"Know lots. Saw man here--there--near edge of woods--nice little car, +oh, awful nice little car----" + +"Yes, go on, what did he do?" + +"Do? Do? Oh, nothing. Walked around----" + +"Hold on, you said he was in a car." + +"No, walked around, sly--oh, so sly----" + +"Rubbish! you're making up!" + +"Of course he is," said Iris, "he can't tell a connected story. Who was +the man, Sam?" + +"Don't know name. But--he was at the show to-day." + +"At the inquest! No!" Bannard exclaimed. + +"Yes, he was. Same man. Oh, I know him, he killed Missy Pell." + +"How did he get in the house," Bannard tried to draw him on to further +absurd assertions. + +"Dunno," and Sam shook his uncertain head. "But he did, and he kill--and +kill--and so, he come to show." + +"Fool talk!" and Bannard scowled at the defective lad. + +"No, sir! Sam no fool." + +"Yes, you are, and you know it," Iris declared, but she smiled at him, +for she had known the unfortunate boy a long time, and always treated +him kindly, but not as a rational human being. + +And just then, Browne, the local jeweler, appeared. + +He had been sent for by Hughes, in order that they might get some idea +of the whereabouts of Mrs. Pell's jewel collection. No one really +thought they had all been stored in the small wall safe, and Browne was +asked concerning his knowledge. + +Several of those most interested clustered round to hear the word and +perhaps none was more eager than Mr. Bowen. Quite evidently he had +strong hopes of receiving the chalice for his church, and he listened to +the jeweler's story. + +But it was of little value. Mr. Browne declared his knowledge of many of +Mrs. Pell's jewels, which she had shown him, asking his opinion or +merely to gratify his interest, and again, when she had wanted to sell +some of the smaller ones. But he was sure that she possessed many and +valuable stones that he had never seen. He named some diamonds and +emeralds that were of sufficient size and weight to be designated by +name. He told of some collections that she had bought with his knowledge +and advice. And he assured them that he was positive she was the owner +of at least two million dollars' worth of unset gems, part of which +formed the collection left to her by her husband and part of which she +had acquired later, herself. + +But Mr. Browne hadn't the slightest idea where these gems were stored +for safe keeping. He had sometimes discreetly hinted to Mrs. Pell that +he would like to know where they were, merely as a matter of interest, +but she had never told him, and had only stated that they were safe from +fire, flood or thieves! + +"Those were her very words," he asserted, "and when I said that was an +all-round statement, she laughed and said they were buried." + +"Buried!" cried Iris, "what an idea!" + +"A very good idea," Mr. Browne defended. "I'm not sure that isn't the +best way to conceal such a stock of valuables." + +"But buried where?" pursued the girl. + +"That I don't know," said the jeweler. + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +LUCILLE + + +"I am Miss Lucille Darrel." + +People are usually cognizant of their own names, but few could throw +more convincing certainty into the announcement than the speaker. One +felt sure at once that her name was as she stated and had been so for a +long time. The first adjective one would think of applying to Miss +Darrel would be "positive." She was that by every implication of her +being. Her hair was positively white, her eyes positively black. Her +manner and expression were positive, and her very walk, as she stepped +into the Pellbrook living room, was positive and unhesitating. + +Iris chanced to be there alone, for the moment; alone, that is, save for +the casket containing the body of Ursula Pell. The great room, set in +order for the funeral, was filled with rows of folding chairs, and the +oppressive odor of massed flowers permeated the place. + +The girl stood beside the casket, tears rolling down her cheeks and her +whole body shaking with suppressed sobs. + +"Why, you poor child," said the newcomer, in most heartfelt sympathy; +"Are you Iris?" + +The acquiescent reply was lost, as Miss Darrel gathered the slim young +figure into her embrace. "There, there," she soothed, "cry all you want +to. Poor little girl." She gently smoothed Iris' hair, and together they +stood, looking down at the quiet, white face. + +"You loved her so," and Miss Darrel's tone was soft and kind. + +"I did," Iris said, feeling at once that she had found a friend. "Oh, +Miss Darrel, how kind you are! People think I didn't love Aunt Ursula, +because--because we were both high-tempered, and we did quarrel. But, +underneath, we were truly fond of each other, and if I seem cold and +uncaring, it isn't the truth; it's because--because----" + +"Never mind, dear, you may have many reasons to conceal your feelings. I +know you loved her, I know you revere her memory, for I saw you as I +entered, when you thought you were all alone----" + +"I am alone, Miss Darrel--I am very lonely. I'm glad you have come, I've +been wanting to see you. It's all so terrible--so mysterious; and--and +they suspect me!" + +Iris' dark eyes stared with fear into the kind ones that met hers, and +again she began to tremble. + +"Now, now, my child, don't talk like that. I'm here, and I'll look after +you. Suspect you, indeed! What nonsense. But it's most inexplicable, +isn't it? I know so little, only what I've read in the papers. I came +from Albany last night; I started as soon as I possibly could, and +traveled as fast as I could. I want to hear all about it, but not from +you. You're worn out, you poor dear. You ought to be in bed this +minute." + +"Oh, no, Miss Darrel, I'm all right. Only--I've a lot on my mind, you +see, and--and----" again Iris, with a glance of distress at the cold, +dead face, burst into tumultuous weeping. + +"Come out of this room," said Miss Darrel, positively. "It only shakes +your nerves to stay here. Come, show me to my room. Where shall I lodge? +This house is mine, now, or soon will be. You knew that, didn't you?" + +"Yes," said Iris, listlessly. "I knew Aunt Ursula meant to leave it to +you, but I don't know whether she did or not. And I don't care. I only +care for one thing----" + +But Miss Darrel was not listening. She was observing and admiring the +house itself--the colonial staircase, the well-proportioned rooms and +halls, and the attractive furnishings. + +"I'll give you the rose guest room," Iris said, leading her toward it, +as they reached the upper hall. "Winston Bannard is here, but no other +visitors. If there are other heirs, I suppose Mr. Chapin has notified +them." + +"I suppose so," returned Miss Darrel, preoccupiedly. "When will the +services be held?" + +"This afternoon at two. It will be a large funeral. Everybody in Berrien +knew Aunt Ursula, and people will come up from New York. Now, have you +everything you want to make you comfortable in here?" + +"Yes, thank you," replied Miss Darrel, after a quick, comprehensive +glance round the room, "and, wait a moment, Iris--mayn't I call you +Iris?" + +"Yes, indeed, I'm glad to have you." + +"I only want to say that I want to be your friend. Please let me and +come to me freely for comfort or advice or anything I can do to help +you." + +"Thank you, Miss Darrel, I am indeed glad to have a friend, for I am +lonely and frightened. But I can't say more now, someone is calling me." + +Iris ran downstairs and found Winston Bannard eagerly asking for her. + +"I've unearthed Aunt Ursula's diary!" he exclaimed. + +"Was it hidden?" + +"Not exactly, but old Hughes wouldn't let me rummage around in the desk +much, so I took a chance when he was out of the way, and it was in an +upper drawer. Come on, let's go and read it." + +"Why? Now?" + +"Yes. Look here, Iris, you want to trust me in this thing. You want to +let me take care of you." + +"Thank you, Win--I'm glad to have you----" but Iris spoke constrainedly, +"By the way, Miss Darrel is here." + +"Who's she? Oh, that cousin of Aunt Ursula's?" + +"Not really her cousin, but a relative of Mr. Pell's. I never knew her, +did you?" + +"No; what's she like?" + +"Oh, she's lovely. Kind and capable, but rather dictatorial, or, at +least, decided." + +"Does she get the house?" + +"She says so. And I know Auntie spoke of leaving it to her, because, I +believe, Mr. Pell had wished it." + +"What about the jewels, Iris?" + +"Oh, Win, I wish you wouldn't talk or think about those things, till +after----" + +"After the funeral? I know it seems strange--I know I seem mercenary, +and all that, but it isn't so, Iris. There's something wrong going on, +and unless we are careful and alert, we'll lose our inheritance yet." + +"What _do_ you mean?" + +"Never mind. But come with me and let's take a glimpse into the diary. I +tell you we ought to do it. It may mean everything." + +Iris followed him to a small enclosed porch off the dining room and they +put their heads together over the book. + +It was funny, for Ursula Pell couldn't help being funny. + +One entry read: + +"Felt like the old scratch to-day, so took it out on Iris. Poor girl, I +am ashamed of myself to tease her so, but she's such a good-natured +little ninny, she stands it as few girls would. I must make it up to her +in some way." + +And another read at random: + +"Up a stump to-day for some mischief to get into. Satan doesn't look out +properly for my idle hands. I manicured them carefully, and sat waiting +for some real nice mischief to come along, but none did, so I hunted up +some for myself. It's Agnes' night out, and I stuffed the kitchen door +keyhole with putty. Won't she be mad! She'll have to ring Polly up, and +she'll be mad, too. I'll give Agnes my black lace parasol, to make up. +What a scamp I am! I feel like little Toddie, in 'Helen's Babies,' who +used to pray, 'Dee Lord, not make me sho bad!' Well, I s'pose 'tis my +nature to." + +"These are late dates," said Bannard, running over the leaves, "let's +look further back." + +It was not a yearly diary, but a goodsized blank book, in which the +writer had jotted down her notes as she felt inclined; something was +written every day, but it might be a short paragraph or several pages in +length. + +"Here's something about us," and Bannard pointed to a page: + +The entry ran: + +"To-day I gave the box for Iris into Mr. Chapin's keeping. I shall never +see it again. After I am gone, he will give it to I. and she can have it +for what it is worth. I'll leave the F. pocket-book to Winston. The +house must go to Lucille, but the young people won't mind that, as they +will have enough." + +"That's all right, isn't it, Iris. Looks as if we were the principal +heirs." + +"You can't tell, Win. She may have changed her mind a dozen times." + +"That's so. Let's see if there's anything about Mr. Bowen and his +chalice." + +"Oh, she only thought of that last Sunday." + +"Don't be too sure. I shouldn't be surprised if the old chap got round +her long ago, and had the matter all fixed up, and she pretended it was +a new idea." + +"I can't think that." + +"You can't, eh? Well, listen here: + +"'Sometimes I think it would be a good deed to use half of the jewels +for a gift to the church. If I should take the whole Anderson lot, there +would be plenty left for W. and I.'" + +"What is the Anderson lot?" Iris asked. + +"A certain purchase that the old man got through a dealer or an agent, +named Anderson. Aunt Ursula used to talk over these things with me and, +all of a sudden she shut up on the subject and never mentioned jewels to +me again." + +"She talked of them to me, sometimes, but never anything of definite +importance. She spoke of the Baltimore emeralds, but I know nothing of +them." + +"They're mentioned here; see: + +"'The Balto. emeralds will make a wonderful necklace for I. when she +gets older. I hope I may live long enough to see the child decked out in +them. I believe I'll tell her the jewels are all in the crypt.'" + +"In the crypt! Oh, Win, you know Mr. Browne said he thought they were +buried! Isn't a crypt a burial place in a church?" + +"Yes; but a crypt may be anywhere. Any vault is a crypt, really." + +"But a bank vault wouldn't be called a crypt, would it?" + +"Not generally speaking, no. But, she probably changed the hiding place +a dozen times since this was written." + +"Well, we'll know all when we hear the will. Isn't it a queer thing to +put all of one's fortune in jewels?" + +"She didn't do it, her husband did. And everybody says he was a shrewd +old chap. And, you know he made wonderful collections of coins and +curios, and all sorts of things." + +"Yes, up in the attic is a big portfolio of steel engravings. I can't +admire them much, but they're valuable, Auntie said once. It seems Uncle +Pell was a perfect crank on engravings of all sorts." + +"I know. She gave me an intaglio topaz for a watch-fob. I didn't care +much about it." + +"I'm crazy to see my diamond pin. I've heard about that for years. No +matter how often she changed her will, she told me, that diamond pin was +always bequeathed to me. Perhaps it's her choicest gem." + +"Perhaps. Listen to this, Iris: + +"'I am going to New York next Tues. I shall give Winston a +cheap-looking pair of gloves, but I shall first put a hundred-dollar +bill in each finger.' + +"She did that, you know, and I was so mad when she gave them to me I was +within an ace of throwing them away. But I caught sight of a bulge in +the thumb, and I just thought, in time, there might be some joke on. +Didn't she beat the dickens?" + +"She did. Oh, Win, you don't know how she humiliated and hurt me! But +I'm sorry, now, that I wasn't more patient." + +"You were, Iris! Here's proof! + +"'I put a wee little toad in Iris' handbag to-day. We were going to the +village, and when she opened the bag, Mr. Toad jumped out! Iris loathes +toads, but I must say she took it beautifully. I bought her a muff and +stole of Hud. seal to make up.'" + +"Poor auntie," said Iris, as the tears came, "she always wanted to 'make +up!' I believe she couldn't help those silly tricks, Win. It was a sort +of mania with her." + +"Pshaw! She could have helped it if she'd wanted to. Somebody's coming, +put the book away now." + +The somebody proved to be Miss Darrel, who, when Bannard was presented, +gave him a cordial smile, and proceeded to make friendly advances at +once. + +"We three are the only relatives present," she said, "and we must +sympathize with and help one another." + +"You can help me," said Iris, who was irresistibly drawn to the strong, +efficient personality, "but I fear I can't help you. Though I am more +than willing." + +"It is a pleasure just to look at you, my dear, you are so sweet and +unspoiled." + +Bannard gave Miss Darrel a quick glance. Her speech, to him, savored of +sycophancy. + +But not to Iris. She slipped her hand into that of her new friend, and +gave her a smile of glad affection. + +Luncheon was announced and after that came the solemn observances of the +funeral. + +As Miss Darrel had said, the three were the only relatives present. +Ursula Pell had other kin, but none were nearby enough to attend the +funeral. Of casual friends there were plenty, and of neighbors and +villagers enough to fill the house, and more too. + +Iris heard nothing of the services. Entirely unnerved, she lay on the +bed in her own room, and sobbed, almost hysterically. + +Agnes brought sal volatile and aromatic ammonia, but the sight of the +maid roused Iris' excitement to a higher pitch, and finally Miss Darrel +took complete charge of the nervous girl. + +"I'm ashamed of myself," Iris said, when at last she grew calmer, "but I +can't help it. There's a curse on the house--on the place--on the +family! Miss Darrel, save me--save me from what is about to befall!" + +"Yes, dear, yes; rest quietly, no harm shall come to you. The shock has +completely upset you. You've borne up so bravely, and now the reaction +has come and you're feverish and ill. Take this, my child, and try to +rest quietly." + +Iris took the soothing draught, and fell, for a few moments, into a +troubled slumber. But almost immediately she roused herself and sat bolt +upright. + +"I didn't kill her!" she said, her large dark eyes burning into Miss +Darrel's own. + +"No, no, dear, you didn't kill her. Never mind that now. We'll find it +all out in good time." + +"I don't want it found out! It must not be found out! Won't you take +away that detective man? He knows too much--oh, yes, he knows too much!" + +"Hush, dear, please don't make any disturbance now. They're taking your +aunt away." + +"Are they?" and suddenly Iris calmed herself, and stood up, quite still +and composed. "Let me see," she said; "no, I don't want to go down. I +want to look out of the windows." + +Kneeling at the front window of Miss Darrel's room, in utter silence, +Iris watched the bearers take the casket out of the door. + +"Poor Aunt Ursula," she whispered softly, "I _did_ love you. I'm sorry I +didn't show it more. I wish I had been less impatient. But I will avenge +your death. I didn't think I could, but I must--I know I _must_, and I +will do it. I promise you, Aunt Ursula--I vow it!" + +"Who killed her?" Miss Darrel spoke softly, and in an awed tone. + +"I can't tell you. But I--_I_ am the avenger!" + +It was an hour or more later when the group gathered in the living room, +listened to the reading of Ursula Pell's last will and testament. + +Mr. Bowen's round face was solemn and sad. Mrs. Bowen was pale with +weeping. + +Miss Darrel kept a watchful eye on Iris, but the girl was quite her +normal self. Winston Bannard was composed and somewhat stern looking, +and the servants huddled in the doorway waiting their word. + +As might have been expected from the eccentric old lady, the will was +long and couched in a mass of unnecessary verbiage. But it was duly +drawn and witnessed and its decrees were altogether valid. + +As was anticipated, the house and estate of Pellbrook were bequeathed to +Miss Lucille Darrel. + +The positive nod of that lady's head expressed her satisfaction, and Mr. +Chapin proceeded. + +Followed a few legacies of money or valuables to several more distant +relatives and friends, and then came the list of servants. + +A beautiful set of cameos was given to Agnes; a collection of rare coins +to the Purdys; and a wonderful gold watch with a jeweled fob to +Campbell. + +A clause of the will directed that, "if any of the legatees prefer cash +to sentiment, they are entirely at liberty to sell their gifts, and it +is recommended that Mr. Browne will make for them the most desirable +agent. + +"The greater part of my earthly possessions," the will continued, "is in +the form of precious stones. These gems are safely put away, and their +whereabouts will doubtless be disclosed in due time. The entire +collection is together, in one place, and it is to be shared alike by my +two nearest and dearest of kin, Iris Clyde and Winston Bannard. And I +trust that, in the possession and enjoyment of this wealth, they will +forgive and forget any silly tricks their foolish old aunt may have +played upon them. + +"Also, I give and bequeath to my niece, Iris Clyde, the box tied with a +blue silk thread, now in the possession of Charles Chapin. This box +contains the special legacy which I have frequently told her should be +hers. + +"Also, I give and bequeath to my husband's nephew, Winston Bannard, the +Florentine pocket-book, which is in the upper right-hand compartment of +the desk in my sitting room, and which contains a receipt from Craig, +Marsden & Co., of Chicago. This receipt he will find of interest." + +"That pocket-book!" cried Bannard. "Why, that's the one the thief +emptied!" + +Everyone looked up aghast. The empty pocket-book, found flung on the +floor of the ransacked room, was certainly of Florentine illuminated +leather. But whether it was the one meant in the will, who knew? + +After concluding the reading of the will, Mr. Chapin handed to Iris the +box that had been intrusted to his care. It was very carefully sealed +and tied with a blue silk thread. + +Slowly, almost reverently, Iris broke the seals and opened the box. From +it she took the covering bit of crumpled white tissue paper, and found +beneath it a silver ten-cent piece and a common pin. + +"A dime and pin!" cried Bannard instantly; "one of Aunt Ursula's jokes! +Well, if that isn't the limit!" + +Iris was white with indignation. "I might have known," she said, "I +might have known!" + +With an angry gesture she threw the dime far out of the window, and cast +the pin away, letting it fall where it would. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +THE CASE AGAINST BANNARD + + +"It's just this way," said Lucille Darrel, positively, "this house is +mine, and I want it to myself. Ursula Pell is dead and buried and she +can't play any more tricks on anybody. I admit that was a hard joke on +you, Iris, to get a dime and pin, when for years you've been expecting a +diamond pin! I can't help laughing every time I think of it! But all the +same, that's your business, not mine. And, of course, you and Mr. +Bannard will get your jewels yet, somehow. That woman left some +explanation or directions how to find her hoard of gems. You needn't +tell me she didn't." + +"That's just it, Miss Darrel," and Iris looked deeply perplexed, "I've +never known Aunt Ursula to play one of her foolish tricks but what she +'made it up' as she called it, to her victim. Why, her diary is full of +planned jokes and played jokes, but always it records the amends she +made. I think yet, that somewhere in that diary we'll find the record of +where her jewels are." + +"I don't," declared Bannard. "I've read the thing through twice; and it +does seem to have vague hints, but nothing of real importance." + +"I've read it too, at least some of it," and Miss Darrel looked +thoughtful, "and I think the reference to the crypt is of importance. +Also, I think her idea of having a jeweled chalice made is in keeping +with the idea of a crypt as a hiding-place. What more like Ursula Pell +than to manage to hide her gems in the crypt of a church and then desire +to leave a chalice to that church." + +"There's no crypt in the Episcopal church here," objected Iris. + +"I didn't say here. The church, I take it, is in some other place. She +had no notion of giving a chalice to Mr. Bowen, she just teased him +about that, but she meant it for some church in Chicago, where she used +to live, or up in that little Maine town where she was brought up and +where her father was a minister." + +"This may all be so," Bannard admitted, "but it's pure supposition on +your part." + +"Have you any better supposition? Any other theory? Any clear direction +in which to look?" + +"No;" and the young man frowned; "I haven't. I think that dime and pin +business unspeakably small and mean! I put up with those tricks as long +as I could stand them, but to have them pursue me after Mrs. Pell is +dead is a little too much! It's none of it _her_ family's fortune, +anyway. My uncle, Mr. Pell, owned the jewels and left them to her. She +did quite right in dividing them between her own niece and myself, but +far from right in so secreting them that they can't be found. And they +never will be found! Of that I'm certain. The will itself said they +would _doubtless_ be discovered! What a way to put it!" + +"That's all so, Win," Iris spoke wearily, "but we must _try_ to find +them. Couldn't that crypt be in this house, not in any church?" + +Bannard looked at the girl curiously. "Do you think so?" he said, +briefly. + +"You mean a concealed place, I suppose," put in Miss Darrel. "Well, +remember this house is mine, now, and I don't want any digging into its +foundations promiscuously. If you can prove to me by some good +architect's investigation that there is such a place or any chance of +such a place, you may open it up. But I won't have the foundations +undermined and the cellars dug into, hunting for a crypt that isn't +there!" + +"Of course we can't prove it's here until we find it, or find some +indications of it," Iris agreed. "But you've invited us both to stay +here for a week or two----" + +"I know I did, but I wish I hadn't, if you're going to tear down my +house----" + +"Now, now, Miss Darrel," Bannard couldn't help laughing at her angry +face, "we're not going to pull the house down about your ears! And if +you don't want Iris and me to visit you, as you asked us to, just say so +and we'll mighty soon make ourselves scarce! We'll go to the village inn +to-day, if you like." + +"No, no; don't be so hasty. Take a week, Iris, to get your things +together, and you stay that long, too, Mr. Bannard; but, of course, it +isn't strange that I should want my house to myself after a time." + +"Not at all, Miss Lucille," Iris smiled pleasantly, "you are quite +justified. I will stay a few days, and then I shall go to New York and +live with a girl friend of mine, who will be very glad to have me." + +"And I will remain but a day or two here," said Bannard, "and though I +may be back and forth a few times, I'll stay mostly in my New York +rooms. I admit I rather want to look around here, for it seems to me +that, as heirs to a large fortune of jewels, it's up to Iris and myself +to look first in the most likely hiding-places for them; and where more +probable than the testator's own house? Also, Miss Darrel, there will +yet be much investigation here, in an endeavor to find the murderer; +you will have to submit to that." + +"Of course, I shall put no obstacles in the way of the law. That +detective Hughes is a most determined man. He said yesterday, just +before the funeral, that to-day he should begin his real +investigations." + +And the detective made good his promise. He arrived at Pellbrook and +announced his determination to make a thorough search of the place, +house and grounds. + +"That crypt business," he declared, for he had read the diary, "means a +whole lot. It's no church vault, my way of thinking, it's a crypt in +this here house and the jewels are there. Mark that. Also, the concealed +crypt is part of or connected with the secret passage that leads into +that room, where the windows are barred, and that's how the murderer got +in--or, at least, how he got out." + +"But--but there isn't any such crypt," and Iris looked at him +imploringly. "If there were, don't you suppose I'd know it?" + +"You might, and then, again, you mightn't," returned Hughes; then he +added, "and then again, mebbe you do." + +A painful silence followed, for the detective's tone and glance, even +more than his words, hinted an implication. + +"And I wish you'd tell me," he went on, to Iris, "just what that funny +business about the ten cent piece means. Did your aunt tell you she was +going to leave you a real diamond?" + +"Yes; for years Mrs. Pell has repeatedly told me that in her will she +had directed that I was to receive a small box from her lawyer, which +contained a diamond pin. That is, I thought she said a diamond pin; but +of course I know now that she really said, 'a dime and pin.' That is not +at all surprising, for it was the delight of her life to tease people in +some such way." + +"But she knew you _thought_ she meant a diamond pin?" + +"Of course, she did." + +"She never put it in writing?" + +"No; then she would have had to spell it, and spoil the joke. I don't +resent that little trick, it was part of her nature to do those things." + +"Did she never refer to its value?" + +"Not definitely. She sometimes spoke of the valuable pin that would some +day be mine, or the important legacy I should receive, or the great +treasure she had bequeathed to me, but I never remember of hearing her +say it was a costly gem or a valuable stone. She was always particular +to tell the literal truth, while intentionally misleading her hearer. +You see I am so familiar with her jests that I know all these details. +It seems to me, now, that I ought to have realized from the way she said +'dime an' pin' that she was tricking me. But few people pronounce +_diamond_ with punctilious care; nearly everybody says 'di'mond'." + +"Not in New England," observed Lucille Darrel, positively. + +"Perhaps not," agreed Iris. "But anyway, it never occurred to me that +she meant anything else than a diamond pin, and one of her finest +diamonds at that. However, as I said, it isn't that joke of hers that +troubles me, so much as the thought that she left her entire collection +of jewels to Mr. Bannard and myself and gave us no instructions where to +find them. It isn't like her to do that. Either she has left directions, +which we must find, or she fully intended to do so, and her sudden death +prevented it. That's what I'm afraid of. She was of rather a +procrastinating nature, and also, greatly given to changing her mind. +Now, she distinctly states in her diary that the jewels are all in the +crypt, and I am firmly convinced that she intended to, or did, tell +where that crypt is. If we can't find any letter or other revelation, we +must look for the crypt itself, but I confess I think that would be +hunting a needle in a haystack; for Aunt Ursula had a varied life, and +before she settled down here she lived in a dozen different cities in +many parts of the world." + +"You're right, Miss Clyde," and Hughes nodded, "she prob'ly left some +paper telling where that crypt is situated. Me, I believe it's in this +house, but all the same, we've got to look mighty sharp. I don't want to +miss it, I can tell you. Sorry, Miss Darrel, but we'll have to go +through your cellar with a keen search." + +"That's all right," Miss Darrel acquiesced. "I'm more than willing to +allow a police hunt, but I don't want every Tom, Dick and Harry pulling +my house to pieces." + +"Lucky my name's Winston," said Bannard, good-naturedly. "Do you mind if +I go with the strong arm of the law?" + +"No," said his hostess, "and don't misunderstand me, young man. I've +nothing against you, personally, but I don't admit your rights, as I do +those of the police." + +"I know; I understand," and Bannard followed the detective down the +cellar stairs. + +All this occurred the day after Ursula Pell's funeral. In the four days +that had elapsed since her inexplicable death, no progress had been +made toward solving the mystery. The coroner's inquest had brought out +no important evidence, there were no clues that promised help, and +though the police were determined and energetic, they had so little to +work on that it was discouraging. + +But Hughes was a man of bull-dog grit and perseverance. He argued that a +mysterious murder had been committed and the mystery had to be solved +and the murderer punished. That was all there was about it. So, to work. +And his work began, in accordance with the dictates of his judgment, in +the cellar of Ursula Pell's house. + +And it ended there, for that day. No amount of scrutiny, of sounding +walls or measuring dimensions brought forth the slightest suspicion, +hope, or even possibility of a secret vault or crypt within the four +walls. Hughes had two assistants, skilled builders both. Bannard added +his efforts, but no stone or board was there that hadn't its own honest +use and place. + +Coal bins, ash pits, wood boxes, cupboards and portable receptacles were +investigated with meticulous care, and the result was absolutely nothing +to bear out the theory of a crypt of any sort or size, concealed or +otherwise. + +"And that settles that notion," summed up Hughes, as he made his report +to the two interested women. "Of course, you must see, there's two ways +to approach this case--one being from the question of how the murderer +got in and out of that room, and the other being who the murderer was. +Of course, if we find out either of those things, we're a heap forrader +toward finding out the other. See?" + +"I see," said Miss Darrel, "but I should think you'd find it easier to +work on your first question. For here's the room, the door, the lock, +and all those things. But as to the murderer, he's gone!" + +"Clearly put, ma'am! And quite true. But the room and lock--in plain +sight though they are--don't seem to be of any help. Whereas, the +murderer, though he's gone, may not be able to stay gone." + +"Just what do you mean by that?" asked Bannard. + +"Two things, sir. One is, that they do say a murderer always returns to +the scene of his crime." + +"Rubbish! I've heard that before! It doesn't mean a thing, any more than +the old saw that 'murder will out' is true." + +"All right, sir, that's one; then, again, there's a chance that said +murderer may not be able to stay away because we may catch him." + +"That's the talk!" said Bannard. "Now you've said something worth while. +Get your man, and then find out from him how he accomplished the +impossible. Or, rather, the seemingly impossible. For, since somebody +did enter that room, there was a way to enter it." + +"It isn't the entering, you know, Mr. Bannard. Everybody was out of the +living room at the time, and the intruder could have walked right in the +side door of that room, and through into Mrs. Pell's sitting room. The +question is, how did he get out, after ransacking the room and killing +the lady, and yet leave the door locked after him." + +"All right, that's your problem then. But, as I said, if he _did_ do it, +or _since_ he did do it, somebody ought to be able to find out how." + +"I'll subscribe to that, somebody _ought_ to be able to, but who is the +somebody?" + +"Don't ask me, I'm no detective." + +"No, sir. Now, Mr. Bannard, what about this? Do you think that +Florentine pocket-book, that was found emptied, as if by the robber, is +the one that your aunt left you in her will?" + +"I think it is, Mr. Hughes. But I am by no means certain. Indeed, I +suppose it, only because it looks as if it had held something of value +which the intruder cared enough for to carry off with him." + +"You think it looks that way?" + +"I don't," interposed Iris. "I think there was nothing in it, and that's +why it was flung down. If it had had contents the thief would have taken +pocket-book and all." + +"Not necessarily," said Bannard. "But it's all supposition. If that's +the pocket-book my aunt willed to me, it's worthless now. If there is +another Florentine pocket-book, I hope I can find it. You see, Miss +Darrel, we'll have to make a search of my aunt's belongings. Why all the +jewels may be hidden in among her clothing." + +"No," and Iris shook her head decidedly. "Aunt Ursula never would have +done that." + +"Oh, I don't think so, either, but we _must_ hunt up things. She may +have had a dozen Florentine pocket-books, for all I know." + +"But the will said, in the desk," Iris reminded him. "And there's no +other in the desk, and that one has been there for a long time. I've +often seen it there." + +"You have?" said Hughes, a little surprised. "What was in it?" + +"I never noticed. I never thought anything about it, any more than I +thought of any other book or paper in Mrs. Pell's desk. She didn't keep +money in it, that I know. But she did keep money in that little handbag, +quite large sums, at times." + +"Well," Hughes said, at last, by way of a general summing up, "I've +searched the cellar, and I've long since searched the room where the +lady died, and now I must ask permission to search the room above that +one." + +"Of course," agreed Miss Darrel. "That's your room, Iris." + +"Yes; the detective is quite at liberty to go up there at once, so far +as I am concerned." + +The others remained below while Hughes and Iris went upstairs. + +But after a few minutes they returned, and Hughes declared that all +thought of any secret passage from Iris' room down to her aunt's sitting +room was absolutely out of the question. + +"This house is built about as complicatedly as a packing-box!" he +laughed. "There's no cubby or corner unaccounted for. There are no +thickened walls or unexplained bulges, or measurements that don't gee. +No, sir-ee! However that wretch got out of that locked room, it was not +by means of a secret exit. I'll stake my reputation on that! Now, having +for the moment dismissed the question of means or method from my mind, I +want to ask a few questions of one concerning whom, I frankly admit, I +am in doubt. Mr. Bannard, you've no objection, of course, to replying?" + +"Of course not," returned Bannard, but he suddenly paled. + +Iris, too, turned white, and caught her breath quickly. "Don't you +answer, Win," she cried; "don't you say a word without counsel!" + +"Why, Iris, nonsense! Mr. Hughes isn't--isn't accusing me----" + +"I'll put the questions, and you can do as you like about answering." +Hughes spoke a little more gruffly than he had been doing, and looked +sternly at his man. + +"Were you up in this locality on Sunday afternoon, Mr. Bannard?" + +"I was not. I've told you so before." + +"That doesn't make it true. How do you explain the fact that Mrs. Pell +made out to you a check dated last Sunday?" + +"I've already discussed that," Bannard spoke slowly and even +hesitatingly, but he looked Hughes in the eye, and his glance didn't +falter. "My aunt drew that check and sent it to me by mail----" + +"We've proved she sent no letter to you on Sunday----" + +"Oh, no, you haven't. You've only proved that Campbell didn't mail a +letter from her to me." + +Hughes paused, then went on slowly. + +"All right, when did you get that letter?" + +"How do you know I got it at all?" + +"Because you've deposited the check in your bank in New York." + +"And how did I deposit it?" + +"By mail, from here, day before yesterday." + +"Certainly I did. Well?" + +But Bannard's jauntiness was forced. His voice shook and his fingers +were nervously twisting. + +Hughes continued sternly. "I ask you again, Mr. Bannard, how did you +receive that check? How did it come into your possession?" + +"Easily enough. I wrote to my hotel to forward my mail, and they did so. +There were two or three checks, the one in question among them, and I +endorsed them and sent them to the bank by mail. I frequently make my +deposits that way." + +"But, Mr. Bannard, I have been to your hotel; I have interviewed the +clerk who attended to forwarding your mail, and he told me there was no +letter from Berrien." + +"He overlooked it. You can't expect him to be sure about such a minor +detail." + +"He was sure. If Mrs. Pell did mail you that check in a letter on +Sunday, it would have reached New York on Monday. By that time the +papers had published accounts of the mysterious tragedy up here, and any +letter from this town would attract attention, especially one addressed +to the nephew of the victim of the crime." + +"That's what happened, however," and Bannard succeeded in forcing a +smile. "If you don't believe it, the burden of proof rests with you." + +"No, sir, we _don't_ believe it. We believe that you were up here on +Sunday, that you received that check from the lady's own hand, that the +half-burned cigarette was left in that room by you, and the New York +paper also. In addition to this, we believe that you abstracted the +paper of value from the Florentine pocket-book, and that you were the +means of Mrs. Pell's death, whether by actual murder, or by attacking +her in a fit of anger and cruelly maltreating her, finally flinging her +to the floor, with murderous intent! You were seen hanging around the +nearby woods about noon, and concealed yourself somewhere in the house +while the family were at dinner. These things are enough to warrant us +in charging you with this crime, and you are under arrest." + +A shrill whistle brought two men in from outside, and Winston Bannard +was marched to jail. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +RODNEY POLLOCK APPEARS + + +The shock of Bannard's arrest caused the complete collapse of Iris. Miss +Darrel put the girl to bed and sent for Doctor Littell. He prescribed +only rest and quiet and ordinary care, saying that a nurse was +unnecessary, as Iris' physical health was unaffected and he knew her +well enough to feel sure that she would recuperate quickly. + +And she did. A day or two later she was herself again, and ready to +follow up her determination to avenge the death of Ursula Pell. + +"It's too absurd to suspect Win!" she said to the Bowens, who called +often. "That boy is no more guilty than I am! Of course, he wasn't up +here last Sunday! But no one will believe in his innocence until the +real murderer is found. And I'm going to find him, and find the jewels, +and solve the whole mystery!" + +"There, there, Iris," Miss Darrel said, soothingly, for she thought the +girl still hysterical, "don't think about those things now." + +"Not think about them!" cried Iris, "why, what else can I think of? +I've thought of nothing else for the whole week. It's Saturday now, and +in six days we've done nothing, positively nothing toward finding the +criminal." + +"Perhaps it would be better not to try," suggested Mr. Bowen, gently. + +"You say that because you believe Win guilty!" Iris shot at him. "I +_know_ he wasn't! You don't think he was, do you, Mrs. Bowen?" + +"I scarcely know what to think, Iris, it is all so mysterious. Even if +Winston did commit the crime, how did he get out of the room?" + +"That's a secondary consideration----" + +"I don't think so," put in the rector. "I think that's the first thing +to be decided. Knowing that one could speculate----" + +Iris turned away wearily. Though fond of the gentle little Mrs. Bowen, +she had never liked the pompous and self-important clergyman, and she +rose now to greet someone who appeared at the outer door. + +It was Roger Downing, who, always devoted to Iris, was now striving to +earn her gratitude by showing his willingness to be of help in any way +he might. He came every day, and though Iris was careful not to +encourage him, she eagerly wanted to know just what he knew about +Bannard's presence at Pellbrook on the day of the tragedy. + +"It's this way," Downing expressed it. "Win was certainly up here last +Sunday, for I saw him. Now, Iris, if you want me to say I was mistaken +as to his identity, I'll say it--but, I wasn't." + +"You mean, sir, you would tell an untruth?" said Mr. Bowen, severely. + +"I mean just that," averred Downing; "I care far more for Miss Clyde and +her wishes than I do for the Goddess of Truth. I'm sorry if I shock you, +sir, but that is the fact." + +Mr. Bowen indeed looked shocked, but Iris said, emphatically, "You +_were_ mistaken, Roger, you must have been!" + +"Very well, then, I was," he returned, but everyone knew he was +purposely making a misstatement. + +"Where was he?" said Iris, altogether illogically. + +"In the woods, near the orchard fence." + +"Sunday afternoon?" + +"No; not afternoon. I'm not just sure of the time, but it was about +noon. I was taking a long walk; I'd been nearly to Felton Falls, and was +coming home to dinner. I only caught a glimpse of him, and I didn't +think anything about it, until--until he said he hadn't been out of New +York city on Sunday." + +"Then, if you only caught a glimpse," Iris said quickly, "it may easily +have been someone else! And it doubtless was." + +"Shall I say so? Or do you want the truth?" + +Iris dropped her eyes and said nothing. But Mr. Bowen spoke severely; +"Cease that nonsense, Roger. Tell what you saw, and tell it frankly. The +truth must be told." + +"It's better to tell it anyway," declared Lucille Darrel, "truth can't +harm the innocent. But it seems to me Mr. Downing may be mistaken." + +"No, I'm not mistaken. Why, he wore that gray suit with a Norfolk +jacket, that I've seen him wear before this summer. And he had on a +light gray tie, with a ruby stickpin. The sun happened to hit the stone +and I saw it gleam. You know that pin, Iris?" + +Iris knew it only too well, and she knew, moreover, that when Win came +up Sunday evening he wore that same suit, and the same scarf and pin. He +had gone back to town the next day for other clothing, but when he had +rushed to Berrien in response to Iris' summons, he had not stopped to +change. + +And yet, she was not ready, quite, to believe Downing's story. Suppose, +in enmity to Win, he had made this all up. He might easily describe +clothing that he knew Winston possessed, without having seen him as he +said he had. + +Iris looked at Downing so earnestly that he quailed before her glance. + +"I don't believe your story at all!" she said; "you are making it up, +because you hate Win, and it's absurd on the face of it! If Win came up +here on Sunday at noon, he would come in for dinner, of course----" + +"Not if he came with sinister intent," interrupted Downing. + +"I don't believe it! You have made up that whole yarn, and let me tell +you, you didn't do it very cleverly, either! Why didn't you say you saw +him in the afternoon? It would have been more convincing, and quite as +true!" + +"I wasn't near here myself in the afternoon. But I did pass here just +before twelve, and I did see him." Downing's voice had a ring of truth. +"However, after this, I shall say I did not see him. I know you prefer +that I should." + +He looked straight at Iris, and ignored Mr. Bowen's pained exclamation. + +"Say whatever you like, it doesn't matter to me," the girl returned +haughtily. + +"It does matter to you--and to Win. So, I shall say I was mistaken and +that I did not see Winston Bannard on Sunday. I shall expect you, Mr. +Bowen, and you ladies, not to report this conversation to the police. If +you are questioned concerning it, you must say what you choose. But you +will not be questioned, unless someone now present tattles." + + * * * * * + +Later that day, Iris had another caller. He sent up no card, but Agnes +told her that a Mr. Pollock wished to see her. + +"Don't go down, if you don't want to," urged Lucille, "I'll see what he +wants." + +But Miss Darrel's presence was not satisfactory to the stranger. He +insisted on seeing Miss Clyde. + +So Iris came down to find a man of pleasant manner and correct demeanor, +who greeted her with dignity. + +"I ask but a few moments of your time, Miss Clyde. I am Rodney Pollock, +home Chicago, business hardware, but as a recreation I am a collector." + +"And you are interested in my late aunt's curios," suggested Iris. "I am +sorry to disappoint you, but they are not available for sale yet, and, +indeed, I doubt if they ever will be." + +"Don't go too fast," Mr. Pollock smiled a little, "my collection is not +of rare bibelots or valuable curios. Perhaps I'd better confide that +I'm an eccentric. I gather things that, while of no real use to others, +interest me. Now, what I want from you, and I am willing to pay a price +for it, is the ten cent piece and the pin your aunt left to you in her +will." + +"What!" and Iris stared at him. + +"I told you I was eccentric," he said, quietly, "more, I am a +monomaniac, perhaps. But, also, I am a philosopher, and I know, that, as +old Dr. Coates said, 'If you want to be happy, make a collection.' So I +collect trifles, that, valueless in themselves, have a dramatic or +historic interest; and I wish," he beamed with pride, "you could see my +treasures! Why, I have a pencil that President Garfield carried in his +pocket the day he was shot, and I have a shoelace that belonged to +Charlie Ross, and----" + +"What very strange things to collect!" + +"Yes, they are. But they interest me. My business, hardware, is prosaic, +and having an imaginative nature I let my fancy stray to these tragic +mementoes of crime or disaster. I have a menu card from the Lusitania +and a piece of queerly twisted glass from the Big Tom explosion. I look +reverently upon the relics of sad disasters, and I value my collection +as a numismatist his coins or an art collector his pictures." + +"But it seems so absurd to ask for a common pin!" + +"It may, but I would greatly like to have it. You see, it was an unusual +gift. You didn't care for it, in fact, I have heard you indignantly +spurned it." + +"I did." + +"They say, you expected a diamond pin, and your aunt left you a dime and +pin! Is that so?" + +"That is so." + +"Pardon my smiling, but I think it's the funniest thing I ever heard. +And I would greatly like to have that pin and that dime." + +"I'm sorry to say it's impossible, as I flung them away, and I've no +idea where they landed." + +"If you had them would you sell them to me?" + +"I'd give them to you, if I had them! Why, it was merely an ordinary +dime, not an old or rare coin. And the pin was a common one." + +"Yes, I know that, but the idea, you see, the strange bequest--oh, I +greatly desire to have one or the other of those two things! Can't we +find them? Where did you throw them?" + +"The dime I remember throwing out of the window. It must have fallen in +the grass, you never could find that! The pin, I tossed on the floor, I +think----" + +"Has the room been swept since?" + +"No, it has not. It should have been, but we have been so upset in the +house----" + +"I quite understand. I have a home and family, and I know what +housekeeping means. However, since the room has not been swept, may I +look around a bit in it?" + +"It is this room, the room we are in. I sat right here, when I opened +the box. I threw the dime out of that window, and I flung the pin over +that way. I confess to a quick temper, and I was decidedly indignant. +Let us look for the pin, and if we find it you may have it." + +Iris was pleasantly impressed by Mr. Pollock's manner and set him down +in her mind as a ridiculous but good-natured lunatic--not really insane, +of course, but a little hipped on the subject of mementoes. + +At her permission, her visitor fell on hands and knees, and went quickly +over the floor of the whole room. Iris with difficulty restrained her +laughter at the nimble figure hopping about like a frog, and peering +into corners and under the furniture. + +She looked about also, but from the more dignified position of standing, +or sitting on a chair or footstool. + +The search grew interesting, and at last they considered it completed. +Their joint result was four pins and a needle. + +Mr. Pollock presented a chagrined face. + +"It may be any one of these," he said, ruefully looking at the four +pins. + +"That's true," Iris agreed. "But you may have them all, if you wish." + +"Can't you judge which it is? See, this one is extra large." + +"Then that's not it. I know it was of ordinary size. I scarcely looked +at it, but I know that. Nor was it this crooked one. It was straight, +I'm sure. But it may easily have been either of these other two." + +"Suppose I take these two, then, and put them in my collection, with the +surety that one or other is the identical pin." + +"Do so, if you like," and Iris gave him a humoring smile. "Now, do you +care to hunt for the dime? If you do, there's the lawn. But I won't help +you, the sun is too warm." + +"I think I won't hunt, or if I do, it will be only a little. I have this +pin, and that is sufficient for a memento of this case. I am on my way +to a house in Vermont, where I hope to get a button that figured in a +sensational tragedy up there. I thank you for being so kind and I would +greatly prefer to pay you for this pin. I am not a poor man." + +"Nonsense! I couldn't take money for a pin! You're more than welcome to +it. And one of those two must be the one, for I'm sure there's no other +pin on this floor." + +"I'm sure of that, too. I looked most carefully. Good-by, Miss Clyde, +and accept the gratitude of a man who has a foolish but innocent fad." + +Iris bowed a farewell at the front door, and returned to the living-room +smiling at the funny adventure. + +Almost involuntarily she began to look over the floor again, searching +for pins. + +"Have you lost anything?" asked Agnes, coming by. + +"No; I've been looking for a pin." + +"Want one, Miss Iris? Here's one." + +"No, I don't want a pin, I mean--I don't want--a pin." Iris concluded +her sentence rather lamely, for she had been half inclined to tell Agnes +the story of her visitor, when something restrained her. + +Perhaps it was Agnes' expression, for the maid said, "Were you looking +for the pin Mrs. Pell left you?" + +"Yes, I was," said Iris, astonished at the query. + +"I have it," Agnes went on. "I picked it up the day you threw it away." + +"For gracious' sake! Why did you do that?" + +"Because--that's a lucky pin. Miss Iris, your aunt had that pin for +years." + +"I know it; it's been years in that box Mr. Chapin held for me." + +"But before that. When I first came to live with Mrs. Pell, she always +wore a pin stuck in the front of her dress. Once I took it out, it +looked so silly, you know. She blew me up terribly, and said if I ever +disturbed her things again she'd discharge me. And I gave it back to +her--I had stuck it in my own dress--and she wore it for a short time +more, and then she didn't wear it. Even then, I wouldn't have thought +anything much about it, but a maid who lived here before I did, said she +lost a pin once that had been in the waist of Mrs. Pell's gown and they +had an awful time about it." + +"Did they find it?" + +"I don't know. I think not. I think she took another pin for a 'Luck.' +Why, Polly knew about it. She said when she heard what Mrs. Pell had +left to you, that it might be the lucky pin." + +"Oh, what foolishness! Well, Agnes, have you really got the pin that +Aunt Ursula left to me?" + +"Yes, ma'am, as soon as I saw you throw it away, I watched my chance to +go and pick it up before Polly could get it." + +"Do you want to keep it?" + +"Not if you want it, Miss Iris. If not, I'd like to have it. I suppose +it's superstitious, but it seems lucky to me." + +"Go and get it, Agnes, and let me see it." + + * * * * * + +But the maid returned without the pin. + +"I can't find it, Miss Iris. I put it on the under side of my own +pincushion, and there's none there now. I asked Polly and she said she +didn't touch it. Where could it have gone?" + +"You used it unthinkingly. It doesn't matter, there's no such thing as a +lucky pin, Agnes. You can just as well take any other pin out of Aunt +Ursula's cushion--take one, if you like--and call that your 'Luck.' +Don't be a silly!" + +Iris smiled to think that neither of the pins her strange visitor +carried off with him was the right one, after all. "But," she thought, +"it makes no difference, anyway, as he thinks he has it. He's sure it's +one of the two he has; if there were three uncertain ones it would be +too complicated. Let the poor man rest satisfied. I wonder if he found +the dime." + +But looking from the window she could see no sign of her late caller, +and she dismissed the subject from her mind at once. + + * * * * * + +Yet she had not heard the last of it. + +In the evening mail a letter came for her. It was in an unfamiliar +handwriting, and was written on a single plain sheet of paper. + +The note ran: + + MISS CLYDE, + + DEAR MADAM: + + I will pay you one hundred dollars for the pin left to you + by your aunt. Please make every effort to find it, and lay + it on the South gatepost to-night at ten o'clock. Don't let + anybody see you. You will receive the money to-morrow by + registered mail. No harm is meant, but I want to get ahead + of that other man who is making a collection. Put it in a + box, and be sly about it. I'll get it all right. You don't + know me, but I would scorn to write an anonymous letter, and + I willingly sign my name, + + WILLIAM ASHTON. + +That evening Iris told Lucille all about it. + +"What awful rubbish," commented that lady. "But I know people who make +just such foolish collections. One friend of mine collects buttons from +her friends' dresses. Why, I'm afraid to go there, with a gown trimmed +with fancy buttons; she rips one off when you're not looking! It's +really a mania with her. Now two men are after your pin. Have you got +it? I'd sell it for a hundred dollars, if I were you. And that man will +pay. Those collectors are generally honest." + +"No; I haven't it." And Iris proceeded to tell of Agnes' connection with +the matter. + +"H'm, a Luck! I've heard of them, too. Sometimes they're worth keeping. +Oh, no, I'm not really superstitious, but an old Luck is greatly to be +reverenced, if nothing more. If that pin was Ursula's Luck, you ought to +keep it, my dear." + +"But I haven't it. If it is a Luck, and if its possession would help +me--would help to free Win--I'd like to see the collector that could get +it away from me!" + +"Oh, it mightn't be so potent as all that, but after all, a Luck is a +Luck, and I'd be careful how I let one get away." + +"But it has got away. And, too, I let friend Pollock go off with the +idea that he had it; now, if I were to let somebody else take it, Mr. +Pollock would have good reason to chide me." + +"But how did this other man know about it?" + +"I've no idea, unless he and Pollock are friends and compare notes." + +"But how did--what's his name?--Ashton, know it was lost?" + +"That's so, how did he? It's very mysterious. What shall I do?" + +"Nothing at all. You can't put it on the gatepost, if you don't know +where it is. But I'd certainly try to find it. Ask Polly what she knows +about it." + +"I will, to-morrow. She's gone to bed by now. Poor old thing, she works +pretty hard." + +"I know it. I'll be glad when I get a whole staff of new servants. But +I'll wait till this excitement is over." + +That was Miss Darrel's attitude. She had received her inheritance and +selfishly took little interest in that of the other heirs. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +IRIS IN DANGER + + +Wearily, Iris went upstairs to her own room, and closed the door. Then +she opened it again, for the night was hot and stifling. Without turning +on a light, she went and sat by an open window, leaning her arms on the +sill, and staring, with unseeing gaze, out into the night. + +She was thinking about Bannard, and her thoughts were in a chaos. Not +for a moment did she believe him guilty of his aunt's death, but she +could not help a conviction that he had been at Pellbrook that Sunday +afternoon. She wasted no time on the inexplicable mystery of the locked +room, for, she reasoned, whoever did kill Mrs. Pell escaped afterward, +so that point had no bearing on Winston's connection with the crime. +Moreover, she knew, as she feared the police also knew, that Bannard was +deeply in debt, and as he had received the substantial check from his +aunt, and had banked the same, it was all, in a way, circumstantial +evidence that was strongly indicative. + +Roger Downing had seen Win around Pellbrook about noon, or he thought +he had, of that she was sure, and Roger's declaration that he would deny +this was of little value, for Hughes would get it out of him, she knew. + +Arrest wasn't conviction, to be sure, but--Iris resolutely put away her +own growing suspicions of Bannard. She would stand by him, even in the +face of evidence or testimony--she would--and then she began to +speculate as to the fortune. Those gems were hidden somewhere--and +without Winston to help her how was she to look for them? Knowing Ursula +Pell's tricksy spirit, the jewels might be in the most absurd and +unexpected place. Crypt? Where was any crypt? She inclined a little to +the idea of its being in some church, not in Berrien; for with all Mrs. +Pell's foolishness, Iris didn't think she would hide the treasure in any +but a safe place. And too, the crypt might well be merely the vaults of +some safe deposit company--in Chicago, perhaps, or New York. It was +maddening! Iris thought over the events since the day of her aunt's +death. The awful tragedy itself, the mystery of the unknown assailant +and his manner of escape, the fearful scenes of the inquest, the +funeral, and the police searchings since, and, finally, the arrest of +Bannard. It seemed to Iris she couldn't stand anything more; and yet, +she realized, it had but begun. The mystery was as deep as ever, the +jewels were missing, perhaps would never be found, and Winston's case +looked very dark against him. + +"I _must_ find the jewels," Iris mused, as she had done a hundred times +before. "And I must do it by my wits. They are somewhere in safety--of +that I'm sure, and, too, Aunt Ursula has left some hint, some clue to +their hiding-place. If I'm to be of any help to Win, the first thing to +do is to ferret out this matter. Then, we may be better able to trace +the----" + +Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of what seemed to her to be a +shadow, crossing the lawn below her. The shrubbery was dense, and the +night dark, but she discerned a faint semblance of a person skulking +among the trees. She sat motionless, but the shadow faded, and she could +see nothing more of it. Concluding she had been mistaken, she sighed +and was about to draw the blinds and make a light, when she was seized +with a sudden spirit of nervous energy that impelled her to _do_ +something--anything, rather than go to bed, where she knew she would +only toss sleeplessly on the pillow. + +Silently, not to disturb Miss Darrel, she crossed the hall and went +downstairs. With only a vague notion of looking around, she went into +her aunt's sitting room, and flashed on a light. It was the table lamp +that had been found broken on the floor at the time of the tragedy, but +that now, replaced by a new electrolier, gave a pleasant, soft light. +Coiling up the long green cord, lest she trip on it, Iris sank into an +easy chair near the table. + +Restlessly, she arose and walked about the room. Though familiar with +every detail, it looked strange to her, as a room does when one is the +sole occupant. She opened the wall-safe, and stared into its emptiness. +She pulled open some drawers of a cabinet, looked into a few boxes, and +with no definite purpose, sat down at her aunt's desk. Disinterestedly, +she looked over some books and papers, but she knew them all by heart. +She ran over some bundles of letters, hoping to find a penciled +memorandum on the backs, that had been hitherto unnoticed. + +Nothing met her eye that seemed important, and she turned from the desk, +her glance falling on the cretonne window curtains that overhung the +lighter lace ones. + +"Come out!" she cried, and then quickly, "no, _don't_ come out! Stay +where you are! Who are you?" + +The curtain moved very slightly, and Iris rose, and stood, holding the +back of her chair. Her heart was beating wildly, for though possessed +of average courage, to be alone at midnight in a room of sinister +memories, and see the folds of a curtain sway ever so little is, to say +the least, disturbing. + +"Who are you, I say!" she repeated angrily, but there was no response, +and the curtain hung still. + +A terror passed through her, and left her shivering, with an icy grip at +her heart. Though not at all inclined toward a belief in the +supernatural, there was an uncanny feeling in the atmosphere and Iris +trembled with a strange, weird feeling, as of impending disaster. She +edged a step backward, but as she did so the curtain was flung aside, +and a man stood disclosed--a tall figure, with strong, muscular frame, +and arms extended in a threatening gesture. + +"Not a word!" he whispered, "not a sound!" and the glint of a small +revolver flashed toward her. But she was too petrified with fear to +speak, for the man was masked, and the effect of the blackavised +apparition took her breath away. Only for a moment, however, and then a +wave of relief surged over her. For, alarming as a human intruder may +be, he is less frightful than a supernatural visitant. + +The color came back to her white cheeks, and she said scornfully, "I am +not afraid of you----" + +"You'd better be, then," and the man moved nearer to her. "I've no wish +to harm you, but if you raise an alarm, I shall consider my own safety +first!" + +"Coward!" + +"Nonsense! I don't mean before yours, you've nothing to fear. But if +you're inclined to call help, I'll have to make it impossible for you to +do so." + +The voice was that of an educated man, but entirely unfamiliar to Iris. +Her terror left her, as she realized that at least she hadn't to deal +with a low-class, uncouth ruffian. + +"Why should I call help, since you say I've nothing to fear?" she said, +trying to speak coolly, but still watching the carefully held pistol. + +"Nothing to fear if you do as I say." + +"And what do you say?" + +The masked figure came a little nearer. "I say----" he began, but Iris +interrupted. + +"Stay where you are! I am not afraid of your pistol; your voice tells me +you would not shoot a defenceless woman, but I command you to keep your +distance." + +"My voice belies me, then," he returned coolly. "I'd shoot you quicker'n +a wink, were it necessary to make my getaway. But, listen; you will be +immediately unmolested, if you give me what I have come here to get. I +advise you to give it willingly, but if not--then I must get it as best +I can." + +"Take off your mask, won't you?" and Iris' tone was almost formal. "I +know you, don't I?" + +"You do not, and something tells me you never will. Pardon me, if I +retain my protecting decoration----" + +"Scarcely a decoration," murmured Iris, who was striving to think +quickly what to do. + +"Thank you; that implies your belief in a fair share of good looks on my +part. But that's a matter of no moment. And time passes. I am here to +ask you for a matter of no great moment after all. I want the pin that +your late aunt left you in her will." + +"Oh, then you are William Ashton?" + +"Careful! Not so loud. Yes--I am none other than he." A mock dramatic +gesture accompanied the phrase, and Iris involuntarily smiled. + +"You are charming when you smile," the visitor went on. "I may say that, +since I am not making a social call----" + +"You seem to be, I think," Iris interrupted him. + +"Far from it! You are under a distinct misapprehension. But, alas! your +smiles and charms are not the prize I'm seeking. I want that pin," for +the first time he spoke a little roughly, "and I'm going to have it!" + +"What under the heavens do you want of that pin?" exclaimed Iris, +surprised beyond all thought of fear. She had at first supposed he was +after the jewels, or money, at least. + +"Never mind what for. Are you going to hand it over?" + +"I suppose you are making a collection of dramatic trifles, like Mr. +Pollock. It seems to be a popular pursuit, this gathering material for a +miniature junk-shop!" + +"So? Well, are you going to give it to me? Why didn't you put it on the +gate post to-night?" + +"For the very good reason that I haven't got it." + +"Don't talk that useless chatter. Of course you have it." + +"But I haven't. I threw it away, when the lawyer gave it to me, and----" + +"No; you didn't. You only pretended to. Come; now, where is it?" + +"Will you go away if I give it to you?" Iris was struck with an idea. + +"If you give me your word of honor that you're giving me the right +one." + +This dissuaded her, for she had intended to give him one from her belt +ribbon. + +"I tell you I don't _know_ where it is. Now, cease this useless +interview, please, and leave me." + +"I'll do nothing of the sort! You know where that pin is, and I am sure +it's hidden in this room--" + +"How utterly absurd you are! Why, _why_ do you want it? I believe you're +crazy!" + +"I'm not, as you'll find out! But I intend to have the pin, so make up +your mind to that!" He sprang toward her, laying his automatic on a +table, and with a single gesture, it seemed to Iris, he had a soft silk +handkerchief tied over her mouth, and around her head, in such fashion +that she couldn't utter a sound. + +"I'm sorry, as I told you," he went on, in a business-like voice, "but I +_must_ obtain that little piece of property. Will you change your mind +and tell me where it is?" + +Iris shook her head vigorously, meaning that she did not know where it +was, but he chose to think she meant a mere negative. + +"Then I'll make you!" and he took hold of her arm and twisted it. She +moaned with pain, but he picked up the revolver and threatened her. + +Iris was now really frightened, and realized that his gentler mood had +passed, and she was in desperate danger. She cast appealing glances at +him, but he was oblivious to her piteous eyes, and demanded the pin. + +Suddenly the thought came to her that the man was crazy, really a +maniac, and in view of this she determined to use her wits to extricate +herself from this dangerous situation. If demented, he might shoot her +as likely as not, and she thought deeply and carefully what it was best +to do. He was distinctly clever, as she had heard maniacs often are, so +she dared not fool him too openly. + +Therefore, she acted rather defiantly, until, as she had hoped, this +attitude on her part brought a rough, hard twist of her slender arm, +that really brought the tears to her eyes. + +With a limp gesture of surrender, she nodded her head at him, while pain +contorted her face. + +"Sorry," he said, again, "but there's no other way. Does that mean +you're going to give me the pin?" + +Iris nodded acquiescence, and he stipulated, "The real one?" + +Again she nodded, salving her conscience by the thought that her +falsehood was told in self-defence. + +"Where is it? No, you needn't speak yet, indicate where it is, and I'll +get it." + +Iris nodded her head toward the desk, and the man went to it. He ran his +fingers lightly over the various compartments, watching her the while, +and as he touched one, she nodded. + +She had remembered a small packet of papers, pinned with an old and +somewhat rusty pin, and she determined to pass this pin off on him, if +she could make herself dramatically convincing. + +"I've always thought I could be an actress," the poor child said to +herself, "now's my time to make good." + +So, by dint of indicative nods and glances, she easily made her visitor +discover the packet and the pin. The papers were valueless, and the pin, +which held a paper band round them, was an ordinary, dull, old-looking +one. + +It was Iris' clever play of her eyes and her hands,--that betokened a +great unwillingness to part with it, but did so under duress--that +succeeded in making the thief believe it was the pin he was after. He +scrutinized the papers, and threw them aside. + +"A good hiding-place," he said, putting the papers back where they had +been. "As obvious as Poe's 'Purloined Letter.' I don't ask you if this +is _the_ pin, for your speaking countenance has told me it is. I only +bid you a very good evening." + +He rose quickly, and without a further glance at Iris, he turned off +the electric light on the table, and she heard him step softly through +the living room, and out of one of the low windows that gave on to the +verandah. + +She sat where he had left her, not really in pain, but in some +discomfort. Then, lifting her hands she managed to untie the +handkerchief gag. It wasn't difficult, though the tight knot took a few +moments to loosen. + +She was tempted to turn on the light, and look at the silk handkerchief +still in her hand, but she feared her visitor might discover the fraud +and return. + +She crept softly into the living room, closed and locked the window +through which she had heard him go, and wondered whether it had been +left unfastened or he had forced the catch. But that could wait till +morning. She locked the living-room door on the hall side, for further +safety, and returned to her room, determined to have additional bolts +and bars attached here and there the next day. + +Then she remembered the house was not hers, and though she might suggest +she could not dictate. + +Hours she lay awake, thinking it all over. In the security of her own +room, she felt no fear and the dawn had begun to show before she slept. + +"He's a crazy man," she told herself, finally, just as, at last, +slumber came to her. "But it's queer the same mania attacked two people +at the same time." + +Next day she told Lucille Darrel the story. + +"No, I don't think he was crazy," Miss Darrel said, "I think he's an +agent of that other man, and they wanted to find out if you had given +the first man the right pin. You see, when you made the second +man--what's his name, Ashton?----" + +"Yes, and the first was Pollock." + +"Well, when Pollock doubted that you'd given him the right pin, he sent +Ashton to find out, and then when you were so clever as to fool Ashton +so fully, he thought you had been frightened into it, at last." + +"But what do they want the pin _for_?" + +"Just as Pollock said; to add to a collection of such things. You know +that dime and pin joke is in all the papers. Everybody knows about it." + +"But why so desperately anxious to get the very one? If they did have +another, nobody would ever be the wiser." + +"Not unless you withheld the real one, and then gave it or sold it to +somebody else later. That would make Pollock's pin a fraud. Now, he's +sure he has the very pin." + +"Well, of all rubbish! But, you're right. I suppose friend Ashton went +to the gate post, and not finding it there, he hovered around the house +hoping to get in and hunt for himself." + +"Just that. And he did get in--I'm not sure he wouldn't have taken +something more valuable than the pin, if you hadn't caught him." + +"I don't know; he didn't seem at all like an ordinary thief. Now, I'm +going to see if Polly knows anything about the real pin." + + * * * * * + +It was nearly time for the Sunday dinner, and Iris, going to the +kitchen, found the old cook busy with her preparations. + +"Oh, don't bother me 'bout that now, Miss Iris," Polly said; "I've +gotter set this custard----" + +"Behave yourself, Polly! It won't hurt your old custard to take one +minute to answer my question. Did you take a pin out of the under side +of Agnes' pincushion?" + +"Come outside here," and the cook drew Iris out to the kitchen porch. +"Now," she whispered, "don't you talk so free 'bout that pin. Yes, Miss +Iris, I got it, and you kin be mighty glad. That's a vallyble pin, that +is, and don't you fergit it!" + +"Valuable, how? And where is it?" + +"Well, you know, Mrs. Pell, she set great store by that pin. Many's the +time, when she's been goin' to New York or somewhere, she's said to me, +'Polly, you keep this safe till I get home,' and she'd hand me that +self-same pin. And would I guard it? Well, wouldn't I!" + +"But why, _why_, Polly, did she set such store by it?" + +"It was her Luck, Miss Iris----" + +"Luck, fiddlesticks! Aunt Ursula wasn't a fool! If she'd kept that pin +for luck, she'd have stuck it away and left it alone." + +"Now, you know there's no telling _what_ Mrs. Pell would do! Anybody +else might have done this or that, but there's no use sayin' _she_ +would. She was a law unto herself. But, anyway, that pin's valuable, and +it don't matter for what reason! So, I got it away from Agnes, who +hasn't a mite of right to it, and saved it for you. Why, Miss Iris, +didn't your aunt, time and again, say she was goin' to leave you a +valuable pin? Her little joke was neither here nor there. She said she'd +leave you a _valuable_ pin--and she did!" + +"You're crazy too, Polly. Well, give me the pin; let me see if I can +discover its great value. Perhaps if I rub it a Slave of the Pin will +appear, to grant my wishes!" + +"Here it is, Miss Iris," and Polly drew a pin from her bodice, "but for +the land's sake be careful of it! Do, now!" + +"I will, honest, I will," and Iris smiled as she took the common pin +from the trembling fingers of the old woman. + +"Lemme keep it for you, Miss Iris, dear. Won't you?" + +"Maybe I will, later, Polly. I'll enjoy my valuable possession awhile, +myself, first." + +Iris went around the lawn toward the side door of the house. As she +went, she looked curiously at the pin and then stuck it carefully in her +shirtwaist frill. + +As she neared the side door, she noticed a small motor car standing +there. It was empty, and even as she looked, someone came up stealthily +behind her, threw a thick, dark cloth over her head, picked her up and +lifted her into the little car, and drove rapidly away. + +She tried to scream, but a hand was held tightly over her mouth, and try +as she would she could make no sound. She felt the familiar curve as +they drove through the gateway, and turned off on the road that led away +from the village, and Iris realized she was being kidnapped. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +FLOSSIE + + +When Iris failed to respond to the summons for dinner, Miss Darrel +waited a few moments and then took her own place at the table. + +"Go and find Miss Clyde," she said to Agnes; "I do wish people would be +prompt at meals, especially when they're guests." + +Lucille never allowed any one of her household to forget that she was +now mistress of Pellbrook, and she longed for the time when the mystery +would be cleared up and she might be left to the possession of her new +home. + +Being Sunday, it was a case of midday dinner, and, as Iris was usually +prompt, Lucille was surprised at the length of time Agnes remained out +of the room. At last she returned with the word that she could not find +Miss Clyde anywhere in the house. "But," she added, "maybe she went away +in the little car that was here a while ago." + +"What little car?" demanded Lucille. + +"I don't know whose it was, and I don't know that Miss Iris was in it, +but I just caught sight of it as it whizzed through the gate." + +"When?" + +"About an hour ago. I didn't think much about it. I saw a man driving +it, and I think there was a lady on the back seat----" + +"Agnes, you're crazy! Miss Clyde wouldn't go out anywhere on Sunday +morning without telling me. She didn't go to church?" + +"Oh, no, ma'am, it was much too late for that." + +"Well, that was some stranger's car. You didn't see Iris in it?" + +"No, ma'am, I didn't." + +However, as there was no Iris on the premises, Lucille Darrel concluded +she had gone off on some sudden and unexpected errand--perhaps to see +Winston Bannard. + +So Miss Darrel ate her dinner alone, with no feeling of alarm, but a +slight annoyance at the episode. + +She thought over the story Iris had told her of the intruder of the +night before, and slowly a vague suggestion of something wrong shaped +itself in her brain. She realized that if Iris had gone on an errand, or +had gone for a ride with Roger Downing, or any other friend or caller, +she would certainly have told Lucille she was going. For Iris was +punctilious in her courtesy, and the two women really got along very +well together. She called old Polly in and asked her what she thought +about it. + +"I don't know," and the cook shook her head. "I'd just been talking to +her about that pin Mrs. Pell left to her----" + +"Good heavens! Polly! That pin again? Why--what _is_ there about that +pin? What do _you_ know of it?" + +"Well," and the old face was very serious, "I've been acquainted with +that pin for years." + +"Is it a special pin?" + +"Very special." + +"Why? What's its value?" + +"That I don't know, ma'am, 'cept I'm thinking it's a lucky pin." + +"Oh, how ridiculous! Why, you're not even sure the pin is in +existence--I mean, that anybody knows of." + +"Oh, yes, ma'am, I just gave that pin to Miss Iris this morning." + +"_You_ did! Where did you get it?" + +"Well, I hooked it offen Agnes." + +"What does this all mean? Why did you take it from Agnes? And where did +she get it?" + +"Well, Miss Darrel, ma'am, it's all mighty queer. I don't say's there's +any such thing as luck, and then, I don't say as there isn't. Anyway, +Mrs. Pell guarded that pin like everything while she was alive, and she +left it to Miss Iris when she died. Don't that look like it was a Luck?" + +"Oh, that bequest business was a joke. Surely you know that." + +"Not altogether it wasn't. The dime part was, maybe, but that pin--why, +I _know_ that pin, I tell you!" + +"Do you mean you'd know that pin apart from a lot of other common pins?" + +"No'm--I don't know as I can say that--but, well, maybe I could tell +it." + +"Polly, you're out of your head! But never mind all that now, tell me +what you think of Miss Iris' absence? You know her. Would she run off +anywhere just before dinner on Sunday, without telling anyone?" + +"That she would not! Miss Iris is most considerate and thoughtful. She'd +never go away without seeing you first." + +"That's what I think. Then where is she?" + +"I don't know, ma'am, but--but I'm--I'm awful scared!" + +And flinging her apron over her face, as she burst into sobs, Polly ran +out of the room. + +Thoroughly alarmed, Lucille spoke again to Agnes. + +"You're not _sure_ you saw Miss Clyde in that car?" + +"Oh, no, ma'am. I didn't see her at all. Only I didn't know the car, and +I thought she might be in it. I know Mr. Downing's car, and Mr. +Chapin's, and----" + +"I think I'll telephone Mr. Chapin. What with murderings and maraudings +this house is a frightful place! I almost wish it wasn't mine!" + +She called Mr. Chapin on the telephone, and he came over as quickly as +he could. + +Then she told him of the intruder of the night before, and of the other +efforts that had been made to get the pin. + +The lawyer smiled. "Nonsense!" he said, "they're not after that pin! +They're after something else." + +"What?" + +"I don't know, but probably the jewels, or memoranda or information as +to where the jewels are." + +"Where can they be?" + +"I've not the slightest idea. I wish now I'd insisted more strongly on +having Mrs. Pell's confidence. But she told me that her whole fortune +was left to Iris and Win Bannard, and that it was all disclosed in the +will's directions. She gave me to understand that the box for Iris and +the pocket-book for Win held directions for the possessing of her +fortune." + +"Was her money all in the jewels?" + +"All but a few shares of stock, and a little real estate. Those, +however, will help along, for they belong to Iris and young Bannard as +her immediate heirs, aside from her will." + +"Well, I should think you would have insisted on knowing a little more +about things than that!" + +"Why should I? I drew her will, I attended to such matters as she asked +me to, and it was not my affair where she chose to conceal her wealth, +especially as she had given me a sealed box to hand over to her heiress +at her death. And, too, Miss Darrel, you didn't know my late client as +well as I did. Indeed, I doubt if many people knew her as I did! A +lawyer often has queer clients, but I'm sure she set a record for +eccentricities! I suppose I drew up a score of wills for her, and Lord +knows how many codicils were added! Then, too, I never knew when she +would perpetrate one of her silly jokes on me. I've been called over +here late at night, to take her dying testamentary directions, only to +arrive and find her perfectly well, and laughing at me! I've been given +an extra fee for some trifling service, only to find that payment had +been stopped at the bank before I could present the check." + +"And you stood for such treatment?" + +"What could I do? She was an old and valued client; she paid well, and +the checks were always honored later, after she had had her fun out of +me. And, of course, her tricks were merely tricks. She never did +anything dishonest or dishonorable. Then, too, I liked the old lady. +Aside from her one foolish fad, she was intelligent and interesting. Oh, +Ursula Pell was all right, except for that one bee in her bonnet. Now, I +am perfectly certain her hoard of jewels is safely secreted and I +think--I hope, she has left directions telling where they are. But if +she hasn't, if, dying so unexpectedly, she has neglected to leave the +secret, then I fear Iris will never get her inheritance. Why, they may +be within a few feet of us, even now, and yet be so slyly hidden as to +be irrecoverable." + +"I think that's what the man was after last night." + +"I daresay. But who was the man?" + +"Not an ordinary burglar, for Iris declared he was a gentleman----" + +"Gentlemen don't conduct themselves as----" + +"You know what I mean! She said he was educated and cultured of speech +and manner. Of course, he was a thief. He pretended he wanted the pin, +but that was a blind. He was hunting the jewels." + +"Well, _we'd_ better hunt Iris. I don't like her unexplained +disappearance. Suppose we telephone to all the people we can think of, +at whose homes she might be." + +But this procedure, though including the Bowens and many other of Iris' +intimate acquaintances, brought forth positively no results. Nobody had +seen or heard from Iris that day. + +At last they telephoned to Hughes, and the detective said he would come +to Pellbrook at once. + + * * * * * + +When Iris realized that she had been actually kidnapped, her feelings +were of anger, rather than of fright. The indignity of the thing loomed +above her sense of danger or fear of personal injury. The little car, a +landaulet, ran smoothly and rapidly, and as soon as they were well away +from Pellbrook the stifling cloth was partially removed from her head, +and Iris discovered that beside her was a young woman, whose face, +though determined, was not at all awe-inspiring. She even smiled at +Iris' furious expression, and said, "Now, now, what's the use? You may +as well take it quietly." + +"Take kidnapping quietly!" blazed Iris. "Would _you_?" + +"If I couldn't help myself any more than you can, yes." + +"Keep still! Too much chattering back there!" came a voice from the +driver's seat, and a scowling face turned round for a moment. + +"All right," retorted Iris' cheerful companion, "you mind your business, +and I'll mind mine." + +Then, she took the covering entirely off Iris' head, but at the same +time she drew down the silk shades to the windows of the car. + +"Sorry," she said, blithely, "but it must be did!" + +"Where am I? Where am I going?" and Iris frowned at her. + +"You dunno where you're going, but you're on your way," sang the strange +girl, for she was little more than a girl. "Now, don'tee fight--just +take it pleasant-like, and it will be lots better for you." + +"I don't care for your advice, thank you; I ask you what it means that I +am forcibly carried off in this way?" + +"It means we wanted you, see? Now, Miss Clyde--or, may I call you Iris?" + +"You may not!" + +"Oh, very well--ve-ry well! But you call me Flossie, won't you?" + +"I've no desire to call you anything----" + +"Fie, fie! What a temper! Or doesn't your common sense tell you that it +would be better for you to make friends with me than not?" + +"I reserve the privilege of choosing my own friends." + +"Oho! Of course you do, usually. But this is an unusual incident. An +out-of-the-way occurrence, if I may say so." + +Iris preserved a stony silence. + +"All right, Miss Clyde. Here's your last chance. Be a little more +friendly with me, and I assure you you'll get off much more easily. +Continue to rebuff me with these crool, _crool_ glances, and--take the +consequences!" + +The last three words were said in such a menacing tone that Iris jumped. +It seemed this laughing young woman could turn decidedly threatening. + +Iris capitulated. "In view of what you imply, I'll be as friendly as I +can, but I confess I don't feel really sisterly toward you!" + +"That's better! That line o' talk is most certainly better. Now, maybe +we can hit it off. What do you want to know?" + +"Why I was carried off in this manner! Who did it? Where am I being +taken? Why?" + + "The questions put by thee, dear heart, + Are as a string of pearls to me----" + +The lilting voice was true, and the soft tones very sweet. Iris was +attracted, in spite of herself, to this strange person. + +"I'll answer separately--every one apart----" she twittered on. "First, +you were--ahem--accumulated, for a good and wise purpose. The principal +actor, who could be said to answer your question of who did it, is not +in our midst at present. You are being taken to a house. Why? Ah, if I +tell you, you will know, won't you?" + +Flossie looked provoking, but good-natured, and Iris deemed it wiser not +to rouse her ire again. + +"You haven't really answered, but I suppose you won't. Well, when can I +go back home?" + +"If you're goody-girl, you can return in, say, a couple of hours. If +not--ah, if not!" + +Suddenly a light broke upon Iris. + +It was that pin! These strange people were after the pin! + +And it was sticking in her shirtwaist frill, just where she had put it +when Polly gave it to her. They must not get it! Now, if ever, she must +use her wits. For, if anybody wanted that pin so desperately, it was, it +_must be_ valuable. Also, if Ursula Pell had cherished that pin as old +Polly described, it surely was valuable. + +Iris thought quickly. This sharp-eyed girl would be difficult to +hoodwink, yet it must be done. Had she seen the pin? A furtive glance +at the full ruffle of lawn and lace showed Iris that the pin was not +prominently visible, though she could see it. Why did they want it? But +that didn't matter now--now she must hide it. Would she be searched, she +wondered. Surely she would not be submitted to such an insult. Yet, it +might be. At any rate, it must be hidden. This was the real pin, the +others had not been, and these people who were after it knew that. What +the pin meant, or why they wanted it, must be left undecided, but the +pin must be made safe. + +Iris thought of dropping it out of the window, which was open, though +the shade was down, but concluded that her ever finding it again would +be too doubtful. She thought of concealing it in her abundant hair--but +suppose she were made to take down her hair! A sort of intuition told +her that she would be searched, and she must be ready. + +At last she thought of a hiding-place, and as a start she drew Flossie's +attention to a slightly loose shade tassel, while, with a gesture as of +straightening a tiny velvet bow at her throat, she drew her hand down +the frill, and brought the pin with it. + +Concealed in her left hand, and stealthily watching her companion's +eyes, she waited her chance, and then, unnoticed, she thrust it, head +end first, into the hem of her white serge skirt. The loose weave of +the material made this possible, and the pin disappeared into the inch +wide hem. It might be safe there and it might not. Iris thought it +would, and at any rate she could think of no better place to conceal it. + +Also, getting another pin from her belt she placed it where the +"valuable" pin had been, for further precaution. + +Nor did she accomplish her work much too soon, for very shortly they +drove in at a gate and stopped at the door of a small house. + +There was no attempt at hiding now, and Iris was handed out of the car +by the man who had driven them. With no appearance of stealth, Flossie +ushered her into the house, which proved to be an ordinary, middle-class +dwelling of country people. + +The sitting room they went into had a table with a red cover, some books +of no interest, and an old-fashioned lamp on a wool-work mat. The patent +rocker and a few other worn chairs betokened family furnishings bought +in the eighties, and not renewed since. + +Flossie closed the door, and spoke to Iris, in a new and very decided +tone. + +"Miss Clyde," she said, with respect and politeness, "I'm truly sorry, +but you are here and I am here, in order that I may take from you a +pin, which you have somewhere in your clothing. I deeply regret the +necessity, but it is imperative that I make sure of getting every pin +that is on your person. Please do not make it harder for me--for both of +us--than is necessary. For, I assure you, I shall do my duty." + +"A pin?" said Iris, innocently, "here is one." + +She took one from her belt, in which there chanced to be several, and +thanked her lucky stars that she had hidden the real one. It might be +found, for this girl was surely energetic, but Iris trusted much to her +own dramatic ability now. + +"Not one, but all," said Flossie, gravely. "I'm afraid you don't +understand----" + +"I'm sure I don't!" interrupted Iris. "What about a pin?" + +"I won't waste words with you, if you please. I am here to take from you +every pin you have in your clothing. You will please undress slowly, +that I may get them all. Here is a paper of new ones to replace them. +Will you please take off your shirtwaist, or shall I?" + +Iris looked aghast. Then she concluded it would be best to submit. + +"Will you lock the door?" she said, haughtily. + +"It is locked. We are quite safe from intrusion or interruption. Please +proceed." + +Iris proceeded. But as she removed her shirtwaist, she furtively, yet +careful that Flossie should see her, glanced at the pin in its frill. +She laid the garment on a chair, and went on to disrobe, with the cold +dignity of a queen on the scaffold. + +Flossie was kind and delicately courteous. + +"Not your underclothing, of course," she said. "I have reason to think +you secreted the pin I want in your clothes, a few moments before +you--before you left home, and I think it must be in your frock or +petticoats. Or, perhaps, in your camisole." + +She examined the dainty lingerie with scrutinizing care, and extracted +every pin--of which she found several. Each one she carefully laid +aside, and gravely offered Iris a new pin in its place. + +Pretty sure, now, that her pin would not be found, Iris let herself be +amused at the whole performance. + +"Do you do this as a profession," she asked, "or are you an amateur?" + +"Both," was the unsmiling answer. "Will you give me your word there are +no more pins on you?" + +"I will give you my word there is only this one, and you are welcome to +it." Iris took a pin from a loop of ribbon that adorned her petticoat +ruffle, "but I must ask for one to replace it. I'm a shockingly +careless mortal, and I fully meant to sew that bow on, but I didn't." + +Flossie stared at her hard, but Iris didn't quiver an eyelash of fear or +apprehension, and the other allowed her to dress herself again. + +"That is all," Flossie said, shortly, as once more Iris was in full +costume. "We will go now." + +They re-entered the car, which was still at the door, and started back +the way they had come. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +GONE AGAIN! + + +"The murder mystery is bad enough," said Hughes, "but this disappearance +of Miss Clyde is also alarming. There is deep deviltry going on, and +since Winston Bannard is in custody it can't be assumed that he had any +hand in the matter." + +"Unless Iris is doing something for Win," suggested Miss Darrel. + +"They may be working in collusion----" began Hughes, but Mr. Chapin +interrupted. "Don't use such an expression! Working in collusion implies +wrong-doing. If those two, or either of them, should be hunting the +hidden jewels, they have a perfect right to do so. The jewels belong to +them--if they can find them." + +"Iris Clyde isn't on any jewel hunt," declared Hughes, when, at that +very moment, in at the door came Iris herself. + +Her hair was decidedly tumbled, and her pretty lingerie waist was +rumpled, but otherwise she looked trim and tidy. + +But angry! Her eyes blazed as she cried, "Oh, I am so glad you men are +here! I've had such an experience! Mr. Hughes, you must look up the +people who kidnapped me--kidnapped me, in broad daylight! At my own side +door! It seems to me as incredible as it must seem to you!" + +"There, there," said Lucille, trying to calm the excited girl, "have you +had your dinner?" + +"No, and I don't want any. Listen, everybody, while I tell you about +it." + +They listened, breathlessly and absorbedly, while Iris told every detail +of her adventure. + +"And then," she wound up, "after Flossie had searched me as thoroughly +as a police matron might have done, she allowed me to put on my things +again, and we came back just as we went. I mean, I was put into the car +with her, it was a little coupe affair, you know, and the same man drove +it. We had the shades up part of the time, but as we made a turn she +pulled them down, and as we neared this house, she put the shawl over my +head again. It was a nice, white, woolly shawl, and smelt faintly of +violet. Well, when we got to the bend of the--road below here, they +asked me to get out and walk the rest of the way. I did so, gladly +enough! I was so relieved to see the house again, that I just _ran_ to +it. They scooted, of course, and that's all. Now, Mr. Hughes, catch +'em!" + +"Not so easy, Miss Clyde. The thing was carefully planned, and carried +out with equal care. Did they get the pin?" + +"They did not! Now, Mr. Hughes--Mr. Chapin, that pin must have some +value. What can it be? To say it's a lucky pin is silly, I think." + +"But what else could be its value?" said Chapin, wonderingly. "Let me +see it." + +"I won't let anybody see it, unless we draw the blinds and lock the +doors," said Iris, decidedly. "I tell you there is some value to this +pin. Could it be made of radium, or something like that?" + +"Let's see it," demanded Hughes. + +"All right, I will," and Iris locked the doors herself, and drew down +the window shades. Then, turning on an electric light, she turned up the +hem of her white serge skirt, and began feeling for the pin. And she +found it, though the point had come through the material. But the head +held it in, and Iris easily extricated it. + +"There!" she said, holding it up, "that is the 'valuable pin' Aunt +Ursula bequeathed to me. What do you make of it?" + +Hughes took it first, and looked at it curiously. "Just a common, +ordinary pin," he said, "no radium about that." + +"Did you ever see any radium?" asked Iris. + +"No; but I've seen common pins all my life, and that's one." + +"Of course it is;" and Lucille Darrel's positive statement rather +settled the matter. + +Mr. Chapin looked at it, but could see nothing unusual about it. It was +not bright, like a new pin, yet it was not yellowed with age. It was +merely a _pin_, and nothing more could be made of it. + +"It's a blind," said Hughes, with conviction. "Those people, whoever +they may be, pretend they're after this pin, but really they think you +have a real diamond pin left you by your aunt, and they're after that." + +"That might be," agreed Chapin. "Did the search indicate anything of the +sort, Iris?" + +"I can't say. If so, at least, that girl made a big bluff of hunting an +ordinary pin. I tried to fool her. I had put a pin of hers in the frill +of my blouse, and I kept looking toward it, but furtively, as if eluding +her attention. She caught on, and she examined that frill in every +plait! She found the pin I had put there, of course, and she took +special care of it, though pretending it was of no particular +importance. I put one, as if hidden, in my petticoat ruffle, too, and +she fairly pounced on that, but she gave me a glance to see if I noticed +her satisfaction! Oh, we played our parts, and it was diamond cut +diamond, I can tell you. I couldn't help liking her; she's really a nice +girl, and she must have been made, or hired, to do what she did. She +made me take down my hair, and she brushed it herself, in hope of +finding a pin in it! And I did think of hiding it there at first, but I +thought it safer where I put it. You see, it couldn't lose out, and +there was little likelihood of her thinking to feel in the hem of my +skirt." + +"Very well done; you're a heroine, Miss Clyde, indeed you are! But, I +fear the end is not yet. When they find they haven't the right pin----" + +"How can they possibly know?" exclaimed Miss Darrel. "How can they tell +that they haven't?" + +"They must be able to tell, because they were not satisfied with the +pins Mr. Pollock took from here." + +"Pollock!" cried Iris. "It wasn't Pollock who ran that car to-day." + +"No, but it's his affair. He sent the little car for you----" + +"How did he know I'd be out there and with the pin in my possession?" + +"He's been on the watch, all day, likely. Oh, you don't know the +cleverness of a really clever villain. But give me an idea which way you +went." + +"I have no idea. You see, all the time the shades were up the shawl was +over my head, and when she took the shawl off I couldn't see out at +all." + +"You've no notion what road you traveled?" + +"Not a bit, after we left this place. I think they made unnecessary +turns, for the car turned around often." + +"You see what clever rascals we have to deal with?" grumbled Hughes. +"And you recognized no landmarks?" + +"Not one." + +"What was the house like?" + +"Fairly nice; old-fashioned, but not antique at all. Decent furnishings, +but no taste, and nothing of real value. Commonplace, all through." + +"The hardest kind of a house to trace!" + +"Yes, there was nothing distinctive at all." + +"No people in it?" + +"Not that I know of. I heard no sound. Flossie took me into a little +sitting room to undress, not a bedroom. Everything was clean, but +ordinary. Of course, I'd know the room if I saw it again, but I've no +glimmering of an idea where it was." + +"Strangest case I ever heard of!" mused Mr. Chapin. "I think the pin has +some especial value. Maybe it is of gold, inside." + +"Nonsense!" said Lucille, scornfully, "that amount of gold wouldn't be +worth anything! I'm inclined to the radium theory, though I don't know +a thing about the stuff." + +"Well, I'm going to hide this pin, right now," said Iris, "and I want +you all to see where I put it. I'm afraid to put it in the bank or in +Mr. Chapin's safe, for those people would get it somehow. But here are +only Mr. Chapin and Mr. Hughes and Miss Darrel and myself. We are all +trustworthy, and I'll hide it. Then, I shall devote my life to the +solving of the mystery of the pin and Aunt Ursula's death--for, I think +they are very closely connected." + +"I believe you!" cried Hughes, "and I agree that the best place to hide +the thing is in this house. Where, now?" + +"In Auntie's room," said Iris, solemnly, and she led the way to Ursula +Pell's sitting room. "This place is barred and we can lock the door to +the other room, and keep it locked. See, I shall put it in this big easy +chair, that Auntie loved to sit in. I'll tuck it well down in between +the back and the seat upholstery, and no one can find it. Then, if we +ever discover wherein its value lies, we know where the pin is, and can +get it." + +"I suppose that's all right," said Mr. Chapin, a little dubiously, "but +in a safe----" + +"No, Miss Clyde's idea is best," asserted Hughes. "How cleverly she hid +the thing in her skirt hem, didn't she? Let her alone for the right +dope about this. As she says, we four know where it is, and that's all +that's necessary. I believe the people who want this pin will stick at +nothing, and if it's in any ordinary safe they'll get it." + +"But what _could_ they want of it?" repeated Lucille, plaintively. "Just +as a surmise, what _could_ they want of it?" + +"I'll tell you!" cried Iris, with a flash of inspiration. "It's a clue +or a key to where the jewels are hidden! Oh, it must be! That's why they +want it!" + +"Clue? How?" said Lucille, in bewilderment. + +"I don't know, but, say, the pin is the length of--of----" + +"I don't know what you're getting at," said Chapin, "but all pins are +the same length." + +"What!" cried Hughes, "indeed they're not!" + +"Oh, well, I mean there are only a few lengths. The pins that girl took +from Iris to-day are just the same as this one, aren't they?" + +"About," said Iris; "of course, pins differ, but the ones we use are +generally of nearly the same length. But I'm sure the length or weight +of this pin----" + +"Weight!" exclaimed Hughes; "suppose a certain weight, goldsmith's +scales, you know--would open a delicately adjusted lode on a safe----" + +"You're romancing, man," and Mr. Chapin smiled, "but it does seem that +the pin must have some significance. It would be just like Ursula Pell +to call it a valuable pin, when it really was a valuable pin, in some +such sense as a key to a hiding-place." + +"But how?" repeated Lucille; "I don't see how its weight or length could +be a key----" + +"Nor I," agreed Hughes, "but I believe it is, all the same! I've a lot +of confidence in Miss Clyde's intuition, or insight, or whatever you +choose to call it. And I believe she's on the right track. I confess I +can't see how, but I do think there may be some connection between this +pin and the hidden jewels----" + +"But what good does it do, if we can't find it?" objected Lucille. + +"We will find it," declaimed Iris, her eyes shining with strong purpose, +"we must find it. And if we do, we'll be indebted to these people for +putting us on the right track." + +"They'll probably turn up again, pin-hunting," mused Mr. Chapin. + +"Let 'em!" said Iris, scornfully, "I'm not afraid of them. They're +determined, Lord knows! But they're not dangerous." + +"They gagged you----" + +"But not in a ruffianly manner! No, I'm not afraid. If Miss Darrel will +let me stay here a while longer, I believe I can ferret out----" + +"Stay as long as you like, dear child," and Lucille smiled kindly on +her, "and I'll help you. I'm fond of puzzles, myself, and maybe I can +help more than you'd think!" + +"Now, I want to go and see Win, and tell him all about it," Iris +announced; "mayn't I?" + +"I think I can arrange that----" began Hughes; but Lucille said, "Not +now, Iris, you must have some food first. Why, you've had no dinner at +all, and it's after four o'clock!" + +"I'm not hungry," Iris insisted, but Miss Darrel carried her off to the +dining room. + +"Mighty queer mix-up," Hughes said to the lawyer. + +"It is so, but I can't think there's any importance to that pin. These +theories don't hold water." + +"I dunno's they do, but they've got to be looked into. That pin's safe +for the present, I think, safer'n it'd be in a bank. That is, unless +somebody was lookin' in the window. Miss Clyde was mighty careful to +draw the shades in the other room, but she forgot it in here--and so did +I." + +"Oh, there's nobody to look in. The house is so far back from the road, +and none of the servants are of the prying sort." + +"That's all very well, but I believe in taking every precaution. Say, +Mr. Chapin, has it ever struck you that Win Bannard might be in cahoots +with these pin people?" + +"Winston? Good heavens, no! What do you mean?" + +"Well, nothing in particular, but you know I arrested Bannard because I +thought he killed his aunt--and I've had no reason to change my mind." + +"How----" + +"Don't say 'how did he get out?' Just remember that the murderer _did_ +get out, and we must find him first, and then he'll tell us how." + +"Oh, not Win Bannard!" + +"Then, who? Who else had motive, opportunity, and--well, you know his +finances are in a bad way?" + +"No, I didn't know it." + +"Well, they are. And he told some of his pals in New York on Saturday +night that he'd touch his aunt for five thousand on Sunday! How's that?" + +"Did he really?" + +"He really did. And we've more counts against him, too. Oh, Winston +Bannard has a lot to explain! But I don't want to talk here. These are +state secrets." + +"But tell me, how did you find out so much about Bannard?" + +"By inquiries I got afoot, and they panned out pretty good. Why, I've +got a witness to prove that he stopped at the Red Fox Inn that Sunday, +just as he said he did, but it was on his way _up_ here, not on his way +_back_, as he declares!" + +"Hughes, that's bad!" + +"Bad? You bet it is! I'm sorry for Bannard, but I've got to track him +down. I'll be going now; I've a heap to see to. Tell the ladies good-bye +for me." + +The detective went off and Lawyer Chapin, with the privilege of a family +friend, went to the dining room, where Iris was trying to eat, all the +while excitedly telling Lucille further details of the kidnapping +affair. + +"I'm terribly interested," Miss Darrel was saying, "and I want you to +stay here, Iris, till it's all cleared up. And I want to get a big +detective up from the city. I don't think very much of Hughes, do you, +Mr. Chapin?" + +"Not much, no. But big detectives are very expensive." + +"If one can find Iris' inheritance, she won't mind the cost." + +"And if he doesn't succeed?" + +"Then I'll pay it!" Lucille spoke positively and with a determined shake +of her head. "I've money of my own, and I'll pay if he doesn't find the +jewels, and if he does Iris can reward me, eh, girlie?" + +"Of course I will! Oh, Lucille, do you mean it? I'm so glad. You know +Win isn't guilty, I know he isn't, and a fine detective could find out +who is, and how he did the murder, and then he can find the jewels, and +everything will be cleared up!" + +"Don't go too fast," cautioned Chapin, "even a great detective would +find this a hard case, I'm sure." + +"But if he fails, Miss Darrel will pay his fee, and if he succeeds, I +will, and gladly! And I'll give you a big present too," she added +glancing brightly at Lucille. + +"Now, I'm going to see Win," Iris went on, pushing back from the table, +"but first, let's talk over this detective matter." She led the way back +to the sitting room, which had come to be the general rendezvous for +discussions. + +She looked around the room, thoughtfully. "If we have a detective," she +said; "he'll ask first of all if anything has been touched. The place +hasn't been much disturbed, has it?" + +"Very little," agreed Lucille. "And we can be careful that nothing else +is touched." + +"And I'm going to pick up and put away anything that can be considered a +clue." Iris took up the old pocket-book, as she spoke. "We've all looked +on this as no account, because the contents are missing; perhaps the +detective will be interested in the empty pocket-book." + +"Then there's the New York paper," suggested Lucille. + +Iris winced. "They think that implicates Win," she said, slowly, "but I +don't! So I'm going to take that, too. The cigarette stub Mr. Hughes +took away with him. But everybody smokes that brand. Now, what else?" + +"The check-book," said Chapin, gravely. "Be careful, Iris. Everything +does seem to point to Win, you know." + +"It seems to, yes, but does it? You know yourself, Mr. Chapin, anybody +might have a New York Sunday paper--oh, well, I'm going ahead, because I +know Win is innocent, and these seeming clues may help to find the real +villain." + +"Good stuff, you are, Iris!" declared the lawyer, looking at her +admiringly. "Go in and win!" + +"Win for Win!" and Iris smiled brightly. + +"Are you in love with him?" cried Lucille, who had not thought of such a +thing. + +"Yes," said Iris, simply. "Now, Mr. Chapin, are you going to help me?" + +"Certainly I am, if I can. How?" + +"Well, first of all, I've changed my mind about that pin. I don't think +I'll leave it where it is. I did think it wise, but it seems to me that +anyone searching thoroughly, desperately, would look in the chair +cushions, and so, I think I'll ask you to put it in your safe, +but--don't tell Mr. Hughes we've changed its hiding-place." + +"Very well, Iris; the pin is certainly yours, and if you give it to me +for safe-keeping, I'll do my best to protect it." + +"And don't tell Mr. Hughes, for he's liable to want to see what it's +made of. I'll give it to you now." + +"Draw the shades first, don't fail to use every precaution. That's +right; I'll switch on a light. Why do you have this table light on this +long cord?" + +"It was put in lately, and it was less trouble to do it that way. Now +I'll get the pin. It does seem ridiculous to make such a fuss over a +pin!" + +"Here's a little box," said Mr. Chapin, taking an empty one from the +desk, "we can put it in this." + +"Why, where is it?" said Iris, looking blank. "I stuck it right in this +corner." + +But the pin was gone! + +Search as they would, in the soft cushions, there was no pin there. Nor +had it sunk through the upholstery material. The closely woven brocade +would not permit of that. They faced the astounding fact--the pin was +gone! + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +IN CHICAGO + + +The three looked at one another in consternation. + +"Hughes said it was unsafe," Chapin remarked. "He said you didn't +remember to pull down the shades in this room when you hid the pin, +Iris." + +"No, I didn't, but who could get in? The windows are barred----" + +"But the door to the living room was open, and we were all in the dining +room--anyone could have come in at the front door and walked in +here----" + +"Very silently, then, or we could have heard footsteps from the dining +room." + +"But it must have been done that way. Someone looking in at these +windows saw you put the pin in the chair, and a few moments later, +watching his chance, sneaked in and stole it." + +"Then it was Pollock, or some messenger of his. But what _can_ he want +of it?" + +"The whole thing is _too_ mysterious!" exclaimed Lucille. "Let's send +for a city detective at once." + +"But," objected Iris, "what could he do?" + +"Do? He could do everything! Find the murderer, find the jewels, find +the pin----" + +"Good gracious!" cried Iris. "I don't want the pin! In fact, I'm glad +it's gone. Now, they won't be kidnapping me to get it! But I'm going to +find the jewels. And I'm going to start on a new tack. I'm no good at +solving mysteries, but I can investigate. I'm going to Chicago----" + +"Whatever for?" exclaimed Lucille; "I'll go with you!" + +"No; I'm going alone, and I'm going because I feel sure I can find out +something there. I'll see the minister of the church Auntie attended, +and see if she promised him a chalice, or if his church has a crypt, or +if those people she spoke of in her will--that firm, you know--can tell +me anything about the receipt that was in the pocket-book she left to +Win." + +"But it wasn't in the pocket-book!" reminded Chapin. + +"It was when Aunt Ursula made that will. The murderer took it, and, Mr. +Chapin, that lets Win out! Why should he steal a paper that was meant +for him anyway?" + +"He didn't know then that it was left to him, did he?" + +"I don't know that, I'm sure. But I know Win didn't kill Aunt Ursula, +and it's awful to keep him shut up!" + +"I think myself they hardly had enough evidence to arrest him on, but +Hughes thought they did, and the district attorney is hard at work on +the case now." + +"Yes, hard at work!" Iris spoke scornfully, "what's he doing, I'd like +to know." + +"These things move slowly, Iris----" + +"Well, I'll do a little quick work, then, and show them how. I'm going +to Chicago to-morrow, and I'll be gone several days, but I'll be back as +soon as possible and there'll be something doing, or I'll know why!" + +"Your energy is all right, Iris," said Chapin, "but a bit +misdirected----" + +"Nothing of the sort," snapped Iris, who considered the lawyer an old +fogy; "it's time somebody got busy, and I don't take much stock in the +local police." + +"But about the pin," pursued Lucille, "I think you ought to find out who +stole it just now, Iris. Maybe it was somebody in the house. Where is +Purdy?" + +"Purdy!" cried Iris, "don't suspect him, Lucille! Why, he is as faithful +and honest as I am myself." + +"But where was he?" + +"I don't know, and I don't care; he wasn't in here stealing the pin." + +"Perhaps it's still in the chair," suggested Chapin. + +But it wasn't. A careful search showed that, and as inquiries proved +that Purdy and his wife were in the kitchen and Agnes had been waiting +on Iris at her belated dinner, there was really no reason to suspect the +servants. Campbell, the chauffeur, was in the garage, and there were no +other servants about on Sunday. The disappearance of the pin was as +inexplicable as the murder, and Iris decided to give up the house +mysteries, and look in Chicago for new light. + + * * * * * + +She started the next day, Lucille and Agnes hovering over her in a +solicitude of final preparations. + +"I'll take only a suitcase," Iris declared, "for I can't be bothered +with a trunk." + +"I wish you'd let Agnes go with you," urged Lucille, who hated to have +the girl go alone. + +But Iris didn't want to take a maid along, and, too, Agnes didn't want +to go. + +"I'll go if you say so," Agnes demurred, "but I'd hate to leave here +just now. Sam is on one of his spells, and I ought to look after him." + +"Oh, yes," and Iris smiled at her, "that's one word for Sam and two for +yourself! I think that good-looking young man who calls on you has more +power to keep you in Berrien than poor Sam!" + +Agnes blushed, but didn't deny it. + +So Iris went to Chicago alone. She went to a woman's hotel, and +established herself there. Then she set out in search of the church that +Mrs. Pell used to attend. + +The rector, Dr. Stephenson, was a kindly, courteous old man, who +received her with a pleasant welcome. He well remembered Ursula Pell, +and was deeply interested in the mystery of her tragic death. It was +many years since she had lived in Chicago, and his definite memories of +her were largely concerning the pranks she used to play, for even the +minister had not been spared her annoying fooleries. + +But he knew nothing of any gift of a jeweled chalice, and said he really +had no desire for such a thing. + +"It would only be a temptation to thieves," he asserted, "and the price +of it could be much better expended in some more useful way." + +"Is there a crypt in your church?" asked Iris, abruptly. + +"No; nothing of the sort. Or--well, that is, there is a room below the +main floor that could be called a crypt, I suppose, but it is never used +as a chapel, or for mortuary purposes. Why?" + +Iris told him of the entry in her aunt's diary stating that the +collection of jewels was in a crypt, and Dr. Stephenson smiled. + +"Not in my church," he said, "of that I'm positive. The basement I speak +of has no hidden places nor has anybody ever concealed anything there. +You may search there if you choose, but it is useless. To my mind, it +sounds more like a bank vault. That might be called a crypt, if one +chose so to speak of it." + +"Perhaps," said Iris, disappointed at this fruitless effort. "I will go +to the Industrial Bank and inquire. That is the bank where my aunt kept +her money when she lived here." + +The people at the bank were also kind and courteous, but not so much at +leisure as the rector had been. They gave Iris no encouraging +information. They looked up their records, and found that Mrs. Pell had +had an account with them some years ago, but that it had been closed out +when she left the city. There were no properties of hers, of any sort, +in their custody, and no one of their vaults was rented in her name. + +They seemed uninterested in Iris' story, and after their assurances the +girl went away. + +Next she went to the firm of Craig, Marsden & Co., to see if she could +trace the receipt that was mentioned in Mrs. Pell's will as being of +importance to Winston Bannard. + +A Mr. Reed attended to her errand. + +"A vague description," he said, smiling, as she told him of the will. +"To be sure, our books will show the name, but it will take some time to +look it up." + +However, he agreed to investigate the records, and Iris was told to +return the next day to learn results. + +It was a mere chance that the record of the sale, whatever it might be, +would be of any definite importance, but Iris was determined to try +every possible way of finding out anything concerning the matter. + +The firm of Craig, Marsden & Co. was a large jewelry concern, and +probably the receipt in question was for some precious stones or their +settings. + +Iris boarded a street car to return to her hotel. She sat, deeply +engrossed in thought over the various difficulties that beset her path, +when the man who sat next her drew a handkerchief from his pocket. + +Abstractedly, she noticed the handkerchief. It was of silk, and had a +few lines of blue as a border. Then, suddenly, she realized that it was +the exact counterpart of the one with which the midnight marauder had +tied up her mouth the time he came to get the pin. + +Furtively she glanced at the man. The burglar had been masked, but the +size and general appearance of this man were not unlike him. Then, +another surreptitious look revealed his features to her, and to her +surprise she recognized her caller named Pollock! + +Quickly she turned her own face aside (the man had not noticed her) and +wondered what to do. Without a doubt it was Pollock, she was sure of +that, and the peculiar handkerchief gave her an idea it was the midnight +intruder also--that they were one and the same! She had surmised this +before, and she now began to join the threads of the story. + +She felt sure that Pollock and the burglar and the kidnapper were all +one, and that Pollock was determined to get the pin at any cost; and +she couldn't believe it was for the reason he had asserted, merely as a +memento of the dramatic tragedy. + +It had not been this man who drove the little car that carried her away +on Sunday, but the driver, as well as the girl called Flossie, were +probably Pollock's tools. + +At any rate, she concluded to trace Pollock and find out something about +him. + +When he left the car, as he did shortly, she rose and followed him. He +had not glanced at her, and was apparently absorbed in thought, so she +had no difficulty in walking, unnoticed, behind him. + +She smiled at herself, as she realized she was really "shadowing," and +felt quite like a detective. + +Pollock went into a small restaurant, and Iris, through the wide window, +saw him take a seat at a table. The deliberation with which he unfolded +his napkin, and looked over the menu, made her assume that he would be +there some time. + +Acting on the impulse of the moment, Iris ran to the nearest telephone +she could find, and called up a detective agency. + +Over the wire she stated her desire to employ a detective at once, and +asked to have him sent to her, where she was, which was in a drug shop. + +There was a maddening delay, and as Iris waited, she began to fear she +had done a foolish thing. She suddenly realized that she had acted too +quickly and perhaps unadvisedly. But she must stand by it now. + +It was half an hour before a man arrived and met her at the door of the +drug shop. + +"I am Mr. Dayton," he said, "from the agency. Is this Miss Clyde?" + +"Yes," said Iris, "and please hurry! I've just got on the track of a man +who is a--a burglar----" + +"Ma'am?" and the detective looked sharply at this young girl who had +called him to her. + +"Yes," and Iris grew impatient at his doubtful interest, "now, don't +stop to parley, but catch him." + +"Where is he?" + +"He's in the restaurant, half a block away. I don't mean for you to +arrest him, but trail him, shadow him, or whatever you call it, and find +out who he is, and what sort of a character he bears. If he's a correct +and decent citizen, all right; if he's a man who might be a burglar, I +want to know it! Now, fly!" + +"Wait a minute, Miss Clyde. Tell me more. How shall I know him?" + +"Oh, he's at the table by the first front window, as you go from here. +He's a tall man, and a strong-looking one. Come on, I'll point him out." + +They went toward the restaurant, and cautiously Iris looked in at the +window. But her quarry had fled. There was no one at the table at all. + +"Come on in," she cried to the bewildered Dayton. "No, that won't do, he +mustn't see me. You go in, and get the waiter who served him, or the +proprietor or somebody, and find out who the man was who ate at that +table just now. Maybe he's still in the coat room." + +Iris stepped around a corner, and Dayton went in on his errand. + +But the waiter had no knowledge of the patron's name. He said he had +never seen him before, to his knowledge, but he was a new waiter there, +and the captain might know. + +However, neither the head waiter nor the cashier, nor indeed anyone +about the place, knew the man. A few remembered seeing him, but the +waiters at nearby tables, if they had noticed him, didn't know his name. + +One waiter said he thought he had seen him before, but wasn't sure. The +man was gone, and no one knew which direction he had taken from the +restaurant. + +Iris was disheartened at the report of her emissary. + +"If you'd only got here sooner!" she reproached the detective. + +"Did my best," he assured her. "Describe your man more accurately." + +But Iris couldn't seem to think of any very distinguishing +characteristics that fitted him. + +"His name is Pollock," she said, "and he's a collector. Oh, wait, I do +know something more. He's in the hardware business." + +"For himself, or with a firm?" + +"I don't know." + +"Then, I fear, Miss Clyde, we're wasting time in looking for a person so +vaguely identified. If you say so, I can go over the hardware people for +a Pollock, but it will be an unsatisfactory and expensive process." + +"I don't want that," and Iris looked perplexed. "Oh, I don't know what I +_do_ want! But it's maddening to see him, and then have him get away! +He's also a collector." + +"Ah, that helps. A collector of what?" + +"Of mementoes of crimes----" + +"Of what?" + +"It sounds silly, I know, but he told me so. Not exactly crimes, more of +prominent people. Like a pencil that belonged to President Garfield, +and such things." + +"Oh, a freak! I hoped you meant a prominent collector of valuable +things; then we might trace him." + +"No; he collects queer things, it is a sort of harmless mania, I think. +Well, if we can't find him, we can't. How much do I owe you?" + +This matter was adjusted, and Iris turned disconsolately back to her +hotel. She had accomplished nothing on her Chicago trip, and unless the +Craig people could give her information of importance, there was no use +prolonging her visit. + +The rest of that day, and the morning of the next, she spent in the +vicinity of the restaurant, hoping Pollock would return. + +But she didn't see him, and in the afternoon she went back to Craig, +Marsden & Co. + +Mr. Reed greeted her pleasantly, but he had no important information. + +"We've many records of sales to Mrs. Pell," he related, "and, if you +desire, I can give you a memorandum of them. Presumably, she had +receipts in every case, but as I do not know the particular receipt you +want, I can't offer you any data concerning it." + +"What are the transactions?" asked Iris. "Jewels she bought?" + +"Yes; and setting, and engraving. Mrs. Pell had a great deal of +engraving done." + +"What sort of engraving?" + +"On silver or gold trinkets and ornaments." + +"Oh, yes, I know. All her silver has not only initials, but names and +dates, and sometimes quotations or lines of poetry." + +"Yes, and she was most particular about that work. It was always done by +our best engraver, and unless it just suited her we were treated to her +finest sarcasm. Mrs. Pell was a wealthy and extravagant patron, but not +affable or easy to please." + +"I know that, but she was a remarkable woman and a strong character +often has peculiar ways. I am heir to half her fortune, and that gives +me a sense of obligation that will never be canceled until I have +avenged my aunt's death." + +Iris did not tell this man about the missing jewels, for it seemed of no +use. But they discussed at length the jewels that he knew that Mrs. Pell +had possessed, and Iris was amazed at the size and value of the amount. + +"Really!" she exclaimed. "Do you _know_ that my aunt had such an +enormous fortune as that, in gems?" + +"I know that she had at the time of her dealings with us. That was ten +years ago, or so, but then we had the handling of more than a million +dollars' worth, and I know she added to her store after that." + +"Oh, where are they?" cried Iris forgetting her determination not to +discuss this matter here. + +"Do you mean to say you don't know?" exclaimed Mr. Reed, astounded. + +So Iris told him about the will. + +"What an extraordinary tale," he commented as she finished. "I wish I +could help you out, I'm sure. Now, no receipt of ours would be of +importance in and of itself. It must have had a memorandum scribbled on +it, or something of that sort." + +"Yes," agreed Iris, thoughtfully, "that must be it. In that case the +murderer wanted it because it told where the jewels are hidden." + +"And he has already secured them! Oh, no!" + +Mr. Reed's interest was so sincere that Iris told him a little more. She +told him of the pin, and of her being kidnapped in an attempt to get it. + +"You are in danger," Reed said, warningly. "Until they get what they +want you will continue to be molested. It isn't the pin--that's too +absurd! But they're after something that has to do with the secret of +the hiding place of those jewels. On that you may depend." + +"But couldn't the pin have some bearing on that?" + +"I can't imagine any way that it could. The idea of its being made of +radium is ridiculous. The idea of its being a weight or a measure is +silly, too; and how else could it be indicative? No, the pin part of the +performance is a ruse, the thieves are after something else. If they +stole the receipt in question, it was, as I said, because there were +instructions on it. Your man Pollock is doubtless the head of the gang. +He's no important collector, or I should know of him. And probably his +whole collection story was a falsehood. He read of the pin in the paper +and used that to distract your mind from what he really was after." + +"Very likely," and Iris sighed. "What would you advise me to do?" + +"It's too big a case for a layman's advice, and, pardon me, too big a +case for a young girl to manage." + +"Oh, I know that. I've a very good lawyer, and the police are at work, +but nobody seems able to accomplish anything." + +"I hope and trust somebody will," said Reed, heartily; "that lot of +jewels is too big a loot for crooks to get hold of! I'd be sorry indeed +to learn they have done so!" + +Iris went away, and as her work in Chicago was done, she decided to +start at once for home. + +Entering the hotel, she found a telegram from Lucille Darrel. It read: + +"Come home at once. I've engaged F. S. and he will arrive to-morrow." + +Now, F. S. meant the great detective, Fleming Stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII + +FLEMING STONE COMES + + +Fleming Stone carried his years lightly. Except for the slight graying +at his temples, no one would think that he had arrived, as he had, at +the years that are called middle-aged. + +But an especially interesting problem so stirred his enthusiasm and +roused his energies that he grew young again, and his dark eyes fairly +scintillated with eagerness and power. + +"Tell me everything," he repeated, even after he had heard all the +details over and over again. "Omit nothing--no tiniest point. It all +helps." + +They sat in the living room at Pellbrook, Miss Darrel and Iris being +present, also Hughes and Lawyer Chapin. + +Stone had examined the sitting room where Mrs. Pell had died, and, +closing its door, had returned to the big living room, for further +information on the whole subject of the crime and its subsequent events. + +"The pin's the thing," he said, at last. "Everything hinges on that." + +"Do you think so?" asked Mr. Chapin. "It seems to me the pin's a +blind--a decoy--and the people hunting it are really after something +else, of intrinsic value." + +Fleming Stone looked at the lawyer, with a courteous impatience. + +"No, Mr. Chapin, the pin is the thing they are after. It was for that +pin that Mrs. Pell was murdered. That is why her dress was torn open at +the throat, the villain was searching for that pin. That's why the desk +was ransacked, the handbag explored, the pocket-book emptied--all in a +desperate effort to find that seemingly insignificant pin! That is why +the poor woman was tortured, maltreated, bruised and beaten, in final +attempts to make her tell where the pin was. Failing, the wretch flung +her to the floor, in a burst of murderous frenzy." + +"That's why I was kidnapped, then," exclaimed Iris. + +"Of course, and you may be again! Those people will stop at nothing! The +letters asking for the pin, the caller who wanted it for his +'collection,' all represent the same master-mind, who is after the pin. + +"But why?" wondered Hughes, "what do they want of the pin?" + +"The pin means the jewels," declared Stone, briefly. "How, I can't say, +exactly, for the moment, but the pin is the open sesame to the +hiding-place of the gems, and only the possession of it will secure the +treasure. We must get the pin--and then, all else will be clear +sailing." + +"But the pin is gone," lamented Iris. + +"That is the worst phase of it all," Stone said, regretfully. "It is +such a difficult thing to trace--not only so tiny, and easily lost, but +so like thousands of others, that it can't readily be discerned even if +seen." + +"You think it's just an ordinary pin, then?" inquired Chapin. + +"Absolutely, sir." + +"Then why won't any other pin do as well?" + +Stone looked at him keenly. "I can't answer that at present, Mr. Chapin; +my theory regarding the pin, while doubtless the truth, is as yet +uncertain. Now, another and equally great problem is that of the +murderer's exit. From your story of the crime, I gather that the room +was absolutely unenterable, except by breaking in the door, which Purdy +and the chauffeur did?" + +"That is true," agreed Iris; "the windows, as you can see, are strongly +barred, and there is but the one door. Search has been made for secret +entrances or concealed passages, but there is nothing of the sort." + +"No," said Stone, "this sort of a house is not apt to have such. If +there were any, they would be easily discovered. And there were several +people in this room, when the two men burst in the door?" + +"Yes," said Iris. "I was here, and Polly, the cook, and the two men----" + +"You are positive the murderer could not have slipped by you all, as the +door flew open, and so made his escape?" + +"That was utterly impossible. We were all grouped around the door and +stayed so, until we entered the sitting room ourselves. There was nobody +there but Aunt Ursula, herself----" + +"Dead?" + +"Yes, but only just dead. Polly heard her faint moans, after her loud +screams, you know, before we broke in." + +"And what were the words she used when she screamed out?" + +"I don't know exactly, but they were cries for help, and I'm sure Polly +said she called out 'Thieves!' Of course, she was unable to speak +coherently." + +"Now," began Stone, "to look at this one point. Her assailant had to get +out or stay in, didn't he? You're sure he didn't get out, therefore he +must have stayed in. A man of flesh and blood cannot go through walls, +like a ghost." + +"But he didn't stay in!" cried Iris. "We searched the room at once, +there was nobody in it. You know there's almost no place to hide. We +looked behind the window curtains, and all such places--and, too, we +were in this room continuously, till others came, and no one could have +gone through here without being seen." + +"Nor could he get out of the barred windows. Then what became of him?" + +"Ah, Mr. Stone," said Hughes, "that's the question that has puzzled us +all. If you can solve that, we can begin to look for the murderer!" + +"Meantime, we must assume him to be a spook? Is that it?" Stone smiled a +little at the complacent Hughes. + +"I don't say that, but I do call the manner of his exit an insoluble +mystery." + +"If _he_ could accomplish it, _I_ can find out how," Stone said, +quietly. He had no air of bravado, but he made the statement in all +sincerity. + +"I believe you can!" declared Lucille. "That's why I wanted you, Mr. +Stone. I've heard of your almost unbelievable cleverness, and I knew if +anybody could get to the bottom of this mystery, you could." + +"I don't mind admitting that it is seemingly the most inexplicable one I +ever encountered, but I shall do my best. And I want the cooperation of +you all. There are many things to be told me yet; remember I've only +just heard the main details, and each of you can give me light in +different ways. I'll call on you for information when necessary. Also, +Miss Darrel, will you extend your hospitality to my young assistant?" + +"That boy?" Lucille smiled. + +"Yes; Terence, his name is. He's my right-hand man and attends to a lot +of detail work for me." + +"He's a handful," and Lucille laughed again. "I saw him in the kitchen, +wheedling round Polly, and begging for cookies." + +"I'll warrant he got 'em," said Stone. "He has a way with him that is +persuasive, indeed. But he won't make you any bother. Fix him up a bed +in the loft, or anywhere. He's willing to rough it." + +"Oh, no, he can have a decent room, of course. I'll give him one in the +garage, there's a nice one next to Campbell's." + +At that moment, Terence appeared at the door. + +"Come in," said Stone. "I want these ladies to know you." + +Awkwardly the boy entered, and blushed furiously as Stone gravely +introduced him all round. + +"We'll be friends, Terence," said Iris, who felt sorry for his +embarrassment, and who pleasantly offered her hand. + +"Thank you, ma'am, and will you please call me Fibsy, it makes me feel +more at home--like." + +"Fibsy! What a funny name! Because you tell fibs?" + +"Yes'm! How'd you guess?" The laughing eyes met hers and the boy's +stubby paw touched Iris' soft hand. + +But some subtle spark passed between them, that made each feel the other +a friend, and a tacit compact was sealed without a word. + +"Lemme see the room?" whispered Fibsy, with a pleading look at Fleming +Stone. + +"Yes," and the detective rose at once, and accompanied the lad to the +room of the tragedy. + +The details of the death of Mrs. Pell were quickly rehearsed, and +Fibsy's eyes darted round the room, taking in every detail of walls and +furniture. + +Hughes was astounded. Who was this insignificant boy that he should be +consulted, and referred to? Why was an experienced detective, like +himself, set aside, as of no consequence, while Fleming Stone watched +absorbedly the face of the urchin? + +"How did the murderer get out?" Hughes could not help saying, with a +view to confusing the boy. + +"Gee! If all you local police has concentrated your thinkers on that all +this time, and hasn't doped it out yet, I can't put it over all at once! +But Mr. Stone, he'll yank the heart out o' the mystery, you can just +bet. Of course, 'How'd the murderer get out?' is easy enough to sit +around an' say--like a flock of parrots! The thing to do is to find out +how he _did_ get out!" + +Fibsy stood, hands in pockets, in front of the mantel, looking down at +the floor. + +"Here's where she was lyin'?" he asked gravely, and Iris nodded her +head. + +Leaning down, Fibsy looked up the chimney, and Hughes laughed out. + +"Back number!" he said, looking bored, "Don't you s'pose we've +investigated that chimney business? A monkey couldn't get up that little +flue, let alone an able-bodied man!" + +"That's so, my bucko!" and Fibsy beamed on Hughes, without a trace of +rancor at the elder man's scorn. + +"Now about the evidence against Mr. Bannard," Stone said to the local +detective, "do I understand it's only the newspaper and cigarette that +he was supposed to have left in this room----" + +"Well," Hughes defended himself, "he had motive, he was seen around +these parts, and he denies he was up here----" + +"Never mind, I'll talk with him, please. I'll learn more from his own +story." + +"He isn't guilty, oh, Mr. Stone, he _isn't_ guilty!" Iris exclaimed, her +beautiful eyes filling with tears. "Please get him out of that awful +jail, can't you?" + +"Let us hope so, Miss Clyde." Stone spoke abstractedly. "Where is the +newspaper in question?" + +"Here it is," and Iris took it from a drawer and handed it to him. + +"Why, this has never been opened," exclaimed Stone. + +"No," agreed Hughes, "when Bannard came up here Sunday morning on his +bicycle, he had no thought for the day's news! He had other plans ahead. +He carried that paper up here without reading it, and he left it here, +also unopened." + +"Might 'a' been opened an' folded up again," offered Fibsy. "It has, +too." + +"I did that," said Hughes, importantly. "I opened it, the first time I +saw it, naturally one would, and I refolded it exactly as it was. It's +of no further value as evidence, but I made sure it hadn't been read. +You can always tell if a paper's been read or not." + +"Sure you can," agreed Fibsy. "Where's this Mr. Bannard live?" + +"In bachelor apartments in New York," said Iris. + +"I mean, _where_ in New York?" the boy persisted + +"West Forty-fourth Street." + +"He ain't the murderer," and Fibsy handed the newspaper, that he had +been glancing over, back to Hughes. + +"You darling!" cried Iris, excitedly, grasping Fibsy's two hands. "Of +course he isn't. But how do you know?" + +"Don't go too fast, Fibs," said Fleming Stone, smiling with +understanding at the boy. "Shall we say the real murderer lives +somewhere near Bob Grady's place?" + +"Yes, sir, _yes_! O Lord, what a muddle!" + +Again the boy stood in front of the fireplace, musing deeply. + +"New?" he said, turning to the electric lamp on the nearby table. + +"Yes," said Iris, puzzled at his actions. "When the man knocked Auntie +down the table was overturned and the lamp smashed to bits. We put a +new one in its place." + +"Oh, all right. Now where was that cigarette stub found, and how far was +it burned?" + +Hughes disliked to answer the boy's questions, but Fleming Stone turned +expectantly toward him, so he replied, "It was on the desk, and it was +about half-smoked." + +"And this poker? Did it lie here, where it is now? Wasn't she hit with +it?" + +"Those things have all been thrashed out," replied Hughes, a little +petulantly. "No, she wasn't hit with the poker, she was flung down and +her head knocked onto the sharp knob on the fender." + +"How do you know?" + +"There's a blood stain on the brass knob, and her head was right by it. +The poker is two feet away." + +"Might 'a' been used, all the same," and Fibsy stared at it. +"Howsumever, that don't count. We've got her dead, and we've got to find +out who did it--and, so far, it wasn't Mr. Bannard." + +"When will it begin to be Mr. Bannard?" said Hughes, with fine sarcasm. + +"I mean," Fibsy returned, quietly, "so far, they ain't nothin' to +implicate Mr. Bannard. Somethin' might turn up, though. But I don't +think so. And anyway, the problem, first of all, ain't _who_, but +_how_. That's what we must hunt out first, eh, Mr. Stone?" + +"Very well, Terence," Stone spoke abstractedly, "you attend to that, +while I find the pin. It seems to me that is the most important +thing----" + +"Ain't that F. S. all over!" cried Fibsy, admiringly. "Puts his finger +on the very spot! An' me a babblin' foolishness about findin' how the +chappie got in!" + +"You do certainly babble foolishness," flung out Hughes, unable to +conceal his annoyance at the boy's forwardness, as he looked upon it. + +"Yes, sir," and Fibsy's humble acceptance of Hughes' reproof had no +tinge of irony. The boy was not conceited or bumptious, he was Stone's +assistant, and took no orders save from his chief, but he never assumed +importance on his own merit, nor behaved with insolence or impertinence +to anyone. His only desire was to serve Fleming Stone, and an approving +nod from the great detective was all the reward Terence Maguire desired. + +And then, Fibsy seemed possessed of a new idea of some sort, for with a +sudden exclamation and a word of excuse he ran from the room. + +"Don't allow yourself to be annoyed by that boy, Mr. Hughes," said +Stone; "he is a great help to me in any work. His manners are not +intentionally rude, but sometimes he gets absorbed in an investigation, +and he forgets what I've tried to teach him of courtesy and +consideration for others. He's of humble birth, but I'm endeavoring to +make him of gentlemanly behaviour. And I'm succeeding, on the whole, but +in emergency the fervor of his soul runs away with the intent of his +mind. For he wants to behave as I ask him to, I know that. Therefore, I +forgive him much, and I must ask you to be also lenient." + +Then, apparently feeling that he had done his duty by Hughes, the +detective turned his attention to the room once more. + +He scrutinized everything all over again. He left no minutest portion of +the mantel, the table, the desk or the window draperies uninspected. A +few taps at walls and partitions brought the comment, "No secret +entrance, and had there been, you people must have found it 'ere this. +It is a satisfaction to find so much of the investigating done +already--and thoroughly done." + +Hughes bridled with satisfaction, and eagerly watched Stone's further +procedure. + +Fibsy took his way to the garage, and began a desultory conversation +with Campbell, the chauffeur. + +"Who's the college perfessor?" he asked, pointing a thumb over his +shoulder at a long, lank figure, hovering toward them. + +"Him? He's Sam." + +"Sam?" + +"Yep." + +"Don't babble on so! I don't want all his family history. Quit talking, +can't you?" + +As Campbell had said only a few monosyllables, and as he had the +Scotchman's national sense of humor, he merely stared at his +interlocutor. + +"Oh, well, since you're in a chattering mood, spill a little more. Who's +he, in America?" + +"Sam? Oh, he's Agnes' half-brother, and he's half-witted." + +"H'm. Sort of fractional currency! Is he--is he exclusive?" + +"Eh?" + +"Never mind, thank you. I'll be my own intelligence office. Hey, Sam, +want some chewin' gum?" + +The lackwit turned to the bright-faced boy who followed him, and favored +him with a vacant stare. + +"Gum, sonny, gum, you know. Chew-chew! Eh?" + +Sam held out his hand, and Fibsy put a paper package in it. + +"Wait a minute," he went on, leading Sam out of earshot of the garage. +"What's that song I heard you singing a bit ago?" + +"No, sir! Sam don't sing that more." + +"Oh, yes, Sam does. It's a pretty song. Come now, I like your voice. Sam +sings pretty--very pretty." + +The wheedlesome tone and smile did the trick, and the foolish boy broke +out in a low, crooning song: + + "It is a sin to steal a pin, + As well as any greater thing." + +"Good!" Fibsy applauded. "Where'd you learn that, Samivel?" + +"Long ago, baby days." + +"And why do you sing it to-day?" + +A look of fear came over Sam's face, followed by a smile of cunning. He +looked like a leering gargoyle, as grotesque as any on Notre Dame. + +"You know why?" he whispered. + +"Oh, yes, I know why. But we won't tell anybody, will us?" + +"No, not anybody." + +"Who'd you steal it from?" + +"From chair, he, he! From old Mister Chair." + +"Yes, of course," and Fibsy's heart beat fast. "The big, fat Mister +Chair?" + +"Yes, big fat Mister Chair!" + +"In Mrs. Pell's room?" + +"Yes, yes, in Missy Pell's room." + +But Fibsy began to think the clouded intellect was merely repeating +words spoken to it, and he asked, "Who put pin in chair for Sam to +steal?" + +"Who?" and the blank, foolish face was inquiring. + +"Campbell?" + +"No, no! not Campbell!" + +"No, no, it was Agnes." + +"No! not Agnes----" + +"Who, then?" Fibsy held his breath, lest he disturb the evident effort +the poor lad was making to remember. + +"Missy Iris," Sam said at last, "yes, Missy Iris, Missy Iris--yes, +Missy----" + +"There, there," Fibsy shut him up, "don't say that again. Did you see +her?" + +"Yes, by window. Then, Sam steal pin. It is a sin to steal a pin. It is +a sin to steal a pin--it is----" + +But Fibsy set to work to turn the poor befuddled mind in another +direction, and after a time he succeeded. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV + +FIBSY AND SAM + + +"There are two things to find," Fleming Stone said, "the murderer and +the pin. There are two things to find out, how the murderer got away, +and why the pin is valuable." + +Stone persisted in his belief that the pin was of value, and that in +some way it would lead to the discovery of the jewels. He had read all +of Ursula Pell's diary, and though it gave no definite assurance, there +were hints in it that strengthened his theory. Before he had been in the +Pell house twenty-four hours, he had learned all he could from the +examination of the whole premises and the inspection of all the papers +and books in Mrs. Pell's desk. He declared that the murderer was after +the pin, and that, failing to find it, he had maltreated Ursula Pell in +a fit of rage at his failure. + +"She was of an irritating nature, you tell me," Stone said, "and it may +well be that she not only refused to give up the pin, but teased and +tantalized the intruder who sought it." + +"But what use _could_ the pin be as a clue to the jewels?" Lucille +Darrel asked. "I can't imagine any theory that would explain that." + +"I can imagine a theory," Stone responded, "but it is merely a theory--a +surmise, rather; and it is so doubtful, at best, I'd rather not divulge +it at present. But the pin must be found." + +"I haven't found it, but I've a notion of which way to look," said +Fibsy, who had just entered the room. + +It was Mrs. Pell's sitting room, and Fleming Stone was still fingering +some packets of papers in the desk. + +"Out with it, Fibs, for I'm going over to see Mr. Bannard now, and I +want all your information before I go." + +So Fibsy told of what Sam had said, and of the snatch of song he had +sung. + +"Good enough as far as it goes," commented Stone, "but your source of +knowledge seems a bit uncertain." + +"That's just it," said Fibsy. "That's why I didn't tell you this last +night. I thought I'd tackle friend Boobikins this morning and see if I +could get more of the real goods. But, nixie. Sam says he has the pin, +but he doesn't know where it is." + +"I'm afraid you're trying to draw water from an empty well, son; better +try some other green fields and pastures new." + +"I know it, Mr. Stone, but s'pose you just speak to the innocent before +you go away. You can tell if he knows anything." + +"Why should Sam steal the pin?" Iris asked, her eyes big with amazement. + +"You can't tell _what_ such people will do," Fibsy returned. "He may +have seen you hiding it, as he says he did, and he may have come in and +stolen it, just because of a mere whimsey in his brain. Is he around +here much?" + +"Quite a good deal, of late. He's fond of Agnes, and he trails her +about, like a dog after its master. Aunt Ursula wouldn't have him around +much when she was here, but Miss Darrel doesn't mind." + +"I don't like him," said Lucille, "but I am sorry for him, and he does +adore Agnes. I think he ought to be put in an institution." + +"Oh, no," said Iris, "he isn't bad enough for that. He's not really +insane, just feeble-minded. He's perfectly harmless." + +"Bring him in here," suggested Stone. + +Fibsy ran out, and came back with the half-witted boy. + +"Hello, Sam," said Stone, in an off-handed, kindly way, "you're the boy +for us. Now, where did you say you found that pin?" + +"Here," and Sam pushed his hand down in the big chair, in the very spot +where Iris had concealed it. + +"Good boy! How'd you get in this room?" + +"Through window in other room--walked in here!" He spoke with pride in +his achievement. But at Stone's next question, a look of deep cunning +came into his eyes, and he shook his head. For the detective said, +"Where is the pin now, Sam?" + +The lack-luster eyes gleamed with an uncanny wisdom, and the stupid face +showed a stubborn denial, as he said, "I donno, I donno, I donno." + +And then he broke forth again into the droning song: + + "It is a sin to steal a pin, + As well as any greater thing!" + +This couplet he repeated, in his peculiarly insistent way, until they +were all nearly frantic. + +"Stop that!" ordered Lucille. "Put him out of the room, somebody. Hush +up, Sam!" + +"Wait a minute," said Stone, "listen, Sam, what will you take to show me +where the pin is?" + +"Dollars, dollars--a lot of dollars!" + +"Two?" and Stone drew out his wallet. + +"Yes, 'two, three, four--lot of dollars!" + +"And then you'll tell us where the pin is?" + +"Yes, Sam tell then--it is a sin----" + +"Don't sing that again. Look, here's four nice dollar bills; now where's +the pin?" + +"Where?" Sam looked utterly blank. "Where's the pin? Nice pin, oh, +pinny, pin, pin! Where's the pin? Oh, _I_ know!" + +"All right, where?" + +"Forgot! All forgot. Nice pin forgot--forgot--forgot----" + +"Oh, pshaw!" exclaimed Lucille, "he doesn't know anything! I don't +believe he really took the pin at all. He heard Agnes and Polly talking +about it and he thinks he did." + +"Oh, yes, Sam took pin!" declared the idiot boy, himself. "Yes, Sam took +pin--pinny-pin--beautiful day, beautiful day, beautiful--beautiful day!" + +The boy stood babbling. He was not ill-looking, and the pathos of it all +made him far from ridiculous. A tall, well-formed lad, his face would +have been really attractive, had the light of intelligence blessed it. + +But his blue eyes were vacant, his lips were not firm, and his head +turned unsteadily from side to side. Yet, now and again, a gleam of +cunning showed in his expression, and Fibsy, watching such moments, +tried to make him speak rationally. + +"Think it up, Sam," he said, kindly. "There! You remember now! So you +do! Where did you put the nice pin?" + +"In the crack of the floor! In the crack of the floor! In the----" + +"Yes, of course you did!" encouraged Stone. "That was a good place. Now, +what floor was it? This room?" + +"No, oh, nony no! Not this floor, no, no, no--'nother floor." + +But all further effort to learn what floor was unsuccessful. Indeed, +they didn't really think the boy had hidden the pin in a floor crack, or +at least they could not feel sure of it. + +"He never had the pin at all," Lucille asserted, "he heard the others +talking about it, probably they said it might be in a crack, and he +remembered the idea." + +"Keep him on the place," Stone told them, as he prepared to go to see +Bannard. "Don't let Sam get away, whatever you do." + + * * * * * + +The call on Winston Bannard was preceded by a short visit to Detective +Hughes. + +While the lesser detective was not annoyed or offended at Stone's +taking up the case, yet it was part of his professional pride to be able +to tell his more distinguished colleague any new points he could get +hold of. And, to-day, Hughes had received back from a local handwriting +expert the letter that had been sent to Iris. + +"And he says," Hughes told the tale, "he says, Barlow does, that that +letter is in Win Bannard's writing, but disguised!" + +"What!" and Stone eyed the document incredulously. + +"Yep, Barlow says so, and he's an expert, he is. See, those twirly y's +and those extra long-looped g's are just like these here in a lot of +letters of Bannard's." + +"Are these in Bannard's writing?" + +"Yes, those are all his. You can see from their contents. Now, this here +note signed William Ashton has the same peculiarities." + +"Yes, I see that. Do you believe Bannard wrote this letter to his +cousin?" + +"She ain't exactly his cousin, only a half way sort of one." + +"I know; never mind that now. Do you think Bannard wrote the note?" + +"Yes, I do. I believe Win Bannard is after that pin, so's he can find +them jewels----" + +"Oh, then you think the pin is a guide to the jewels?" + +"Well, it must be, as you say so. 'Tenny rate, the murderer wanted +something, awful bad. It never seemed like he was after just money, or +he'd 'a' come at night, don't you think so?" + +"Perhaps." + +"Well, say it was Win, there's nothing to offset that theory. And +everything to point toward it. Moreover, there's no other suspect." + +"William Ashton? Rodney Pollock?" + +"All the same man," opined Hughes, "and all--Winston Bannard!" + +"Oh, I don't know----" + +"How you going to get around that letter? Can't you see yourself it's +Bannard's writing disguised? And not very much disguised, at that. Why, +look at the capital W! The one in William and this one in his own +signature are almost identical." + +"Why didn't he try to disguise them?" + +"He did disguise the whole letter, but he forgot now and then. They +always do. It's mighty hard, Barlow says, to keep up the disguise all +through. They're sure to slip up, and return to their natural formation +of the letters here and there." + +"I suppose that's so. Shall I confront Bannard with this?" + +"If you like. You're in charge. At least, I'm in with you. I don't want +to run counter to your ideas in any way." + +"Thank you, Mr. Hughes. I appreciate the justice and courtesy of your +attitude toward me, and I thank you for it." + +"But it don't extend to that boy--that cub of yours!" + +"Terence?" Fleming Stone laughed. "All right, I'll tell him to keep out +of your way. He'll not bother you, Mr. Hughes." + +"Thank you, sir. Shall I go over to the jail with you?" + +"No, I'd rather go alone. But as to this theory of yours. You blame +Bannard for all the details of this thing? Do you think he kidnapped +Miss Clyde last Sunday?" + +"I think it was his doing. Of course, the two people who carried her off +were merely tools of the master mind. Bannard could have directed them +as well as anybody else." + +"He could, surely. Now, here's another thing--I want to trace the house +where Miss Clyde was taken. Seems to me that would help a lot." + +"Lord, man! How can you find that?" + +"Do you know any nearby town where there's an insurance agent named +Clement Foster?" + +"Sure I do; he lives over in Meadville." + +"Then Meadville is very likely the place where that house is." + +"How do you know?" + +"I don't _know_. But I asked Miss Clyde to think of anything in the room +she was in that might be indicative, and she told of a calendar with +that agent's name on it. It's only a chance, but it is likely that the +calendar was in the same town that the agent lives and works in." + +"Of course it is! Very likely! You _are_ a smart chap, ain't you!" + +Mr. Hughes' admiration was so full and frank that Stone smiled. + +"That isn't a very difficult deduction," he said, "but we must verify +it. This afternoon, we'll drive over there with Miss Clyde, and see if +we can track down the house we're after." + + * * * * * + +Fleming Stone went alone to his interview with Winston Barnard. He found +the young man willing to talk, but hopelessly dejected. + +"There's no use, Mr. Stone," he said, after some roundabout +conversation, "I'll be railroaded through. I didn't kill my aunt, but +the circumstantial evidence is so desperately strong against me that +nobody will believe me innocent. They can't prove it, because they can't +find out how I got in, or rather out, but as there's nobody else to +suspect, they'll stick to me." + +"How _did_ you get out?" + +"Not being in, I didn't get out at all." + +"I mean when you were there in the morning!" + +Winston Bannard turned white and bestowed on his interlocutor a glance +of utter despair. + +"For Heaven's sake!" he exclaimed, "you've been in Berrien less than two +days, and you've got that, have you?" + +"I have, Mr. Bannard, and before we go further, let me say that I am +your friend, and that I do not think you are guilty of murder or of +theft." + +"Thank you, Mr. Stone," and Bannard interrupted him to grasp his hand. +"That's the first word of cheer I've had! My lawyer is a half-hearted +champion, because he believes in his soul that I did it!" + +"Have you told him the whole truth?" + +"I have not! I couldn't! Every bit of it would only drag me deeper into +the mire of inexplicable mystery." + +"Will you tell it all to me?" + +"Gladly, if you'll promise to believe me." + +"I can't promise that, blindly, but I'll tell you that I think I Shall +be able to recognize the truth as you tell it. Did you write the letter +signed William Ashton?" + +"Lord, no! Why would I do that?" + +"To get the pin----" + +"Now, hold on, before we go further, Mr. Stone, do satisfy my curiosity. +Is that pin, that foolish, common little pin of any value?" + +"I think so, Mr. Bannard. I can't tell until I see it----" + +"But man, why _see_ it? It's just like any common pin! I examined it +myself, and it isn't bent or twisted, or different in any way from +millions of other pins." + +"Quite evidently then, you've not tried to get possession of it. Your +scorn of it is sincere, I'm certain." + +"You may be! I've no interest in that pin, for I know it was only a fool +joke of Aunt Ursula's to tease poor little Iris." + +"Her joking habit was most annoying, was it not?" + +"All of that, and then some! She was a terror! Why, I simply couldn't +keep on living with her. She made my life a burden. And she did the same +by Iris. What that girl has suffered! But the last straw was the worst. +Why, for years and years Aunt Ursula told of the valuable diamond pin +she had bequeathed to Iris; at least, we thought she said diamond pin, +but she said dime an' pin, I suppose." + +"Yes, I know all about that; it _was_ a cruel jest, unless--as I +hope--the pin is really of value. But never mind that now. Tell me your +story of that fatal Sunday." + +"Here goes, then. I was out with the boys the night before, and I lost a +lot of money at bridge. I was hard up, and I told one of the fellows I'd +come up to Berrien the next day and touch Aunt Ursula for a present. She +often gave me a check, if I could catch her in the right mood. So, next +day, Sunday morning, I started on my bicycle and came up here." + +"What time did you leave New York?" + +"'Long about nine, I guess. It was a heavenly day, and I dawdled some, +for I wanted to get here after Iris had gone to church. I wanted to see +Aunt Ursula alone, and then if I got the money, I wanted to go back to +New York and not spend the day here." + +"Pardon this question--are you in love with Miss Clyde?" + +"I am, Mr. Stone, but she doesn't care for me. She thinks me a +ne'er-do-well, and perhaps I am, but truly, I had turned over a new +leaf and, if Iris would have smiled on me, I was going to live right +ever after. But I knew she wasn't overanxious to see me, so I planned to +make my call at Pellbrook and get away while she was absent at church." + +"You reached the house, then, after Miss Clyde had gone?" + +"Yes, and the servants had all gone; at least, I didn't see any of them. +I went in at the front door, and I found Aunt Pell in her own +sitting-room. She was glad to see me, she was in a very amiable mood, +and when I asked her for some money, she willingly took her check-book +and drew me a check for five thousand dollars. I was amazed, for I had +expected to have to coax her for it." + +"And then?" + +"Then I stayed about half an hour, not longer, for Aunt Ursula, though +kind enough, seemed absent-minded, or rather, wrapped in her own +thoughts, and when I said I'd be going, she made no demur, and I went." + +"At what time was this?" + +"I've thought the thing over, Mr. Stone, and though I'm not positive I +think I reached Pellbrook at quarter before eleven and left it about +quarter after eleven." + +"Leaving your aunt perfectly well and quite as usual?" + +"Yes, so far as I know, save that, as I told you, she was preoccupied in +her manner." + +"You had a New York paper?" + +"Yes, a _Herald_." + +"Where did you buy it?" + +"Nowhere. I have one left at my door every morning. I read it before I +left my rooms, but I put part of it in my pocket, as I usually do, in +case I wanted to look at it again." + +"You know there was a _Herald_ found in the room after the murder?" + +"Of course I do, but it was not mine." + +"What became of yours?" + +"I haven't the least idea, I never thought of it again." + +"Quite a coincidence, that a _Herald_ should have been left there when +your aunt took quite another New York paper!" + +"I'm telling you this thing just as it happened, Mr. Stone." + +Bannard spoke sternly, and with such a straightforward glance that +Fleming Stone said, "I beg your pardon--proceed." + +"I went down to New York," Bannard resumed, "and I stopped at the Red +Fox Inn for lunch." + +"At what time?" + +"About noon, or a bit later. I don't know these hours exactly for I had +no notion I'd be called to account for them, and I paid little heed to +the time. I had the money I wanted, Aunt Ursula had given it to me +willingly, I could pay off my debts, and I meant then to live a less +haphazard life. I was making all sorts of plans to make good, and so +gain Iris Clyde's favor, and perhaps, later, her love. I've not told her +of this, for next thing I knew, I was suspected of killing my aunt!" + +"But I'm told that the detectives have inquired, and the waiter who +served you at the inn, says you were on your way _toward_ Berrien, not +_from_ it." + +"Then that waiter lies. I was on my way back to New York. I lunched at +the inn, and proceeded on my way. I reached town about three or later, +and when I finally got back to my rooms, I found a telegram from Iris to +come right up here. I did so, and the rest of my story is public +information. Now, the murderer, whoever he may have been, came to the +house long after I left it. Oh, I can't say that, for he may have been +hidden in the house when I was there. But, anyway, he killed Aunt Ursula +about the middle of the afternoon, so I supposed my true story would be +sufficient alibi. But it hasn't proved so, and now, if they say the Inn +people declare I was coming north instead of going south, as I was, +then I can only say that the villain who did the deed is trying to make +it seem to have been me." + +"That's my belief," agreed Stone; "the whole affair is a carefully +planned and deep-laid scheme, and concocted in a clever and diabolically +ingenious brain." + + + + +CHAPTER XV + +IN THE COLOLE + + +Fibsy stuck to half-witted Sam like a leech. The boy's theory was that +Sam had stolen the pin, as he said, and that he had hidden it with the +cunning of a defective mind, in a place most unlikely to be suspected. +So Fibsy cultivated the lackwit's acquaintance and established friendly +relations. + +Agnes rather resented Fibsy's attitude, but his wheedlesome ways won her +heart, too, and the three were often together. + +In fact, Fibsy enlisted Agnes on his side, and convinced her that they +must learn from Sam where the pin was hidden, if he had really stolen +it. + +It was difficult to get information from Sam himself, for his statements +were contradictory and misleading. But, by watching him closely, Fibsy +hoped to catch him off guard, and make him reveal his secret. + +Sam babbled of the pin continually. As Agnes said, whenever he got a new +topic in his poor, disordered brain, he harped on it day and night. + +"Pinny, pin, pin," he would chant, in his sing-song way, "nice pinny, +pin, pin, where are you? Where are you? Nice pinny-pin, where are you?" + +It was enough to drive one frantic, but Fibsy encouraged it as a means +toward an end. + +And one day he found Sam down on his knees poking a sharp-pointed stick +in between the boards of the kitchen floor. The cracks were wide in the +old house, and Fibsy held his breath as he, himself unseen, watched the +idiot boy diligently digging. + +But it amounted to nothing. After turning out many little piles of dust +and dirt, Sam rose, and said, dejectedly, "No pinny-pin there! Where is +it? Oh, oh, oh--_where_ is it?" + +Fibsy had learned the workings of the queer mind, and he was sure now +that Sam had hidden the pin, but not in a floor crack. The mention of +that hiding-place had been made by Sam to turn suspicion from the real +one, and then the idea had stuck in his head, and, Fibsy feared, he had +forgotten the true place of concealment. + +This would be a catastrophe, for it might then be the pin would never be +found! So Fibsy stuck to his self-imposed task of standing by Sam, +hoping for a chance revelation. + +"Go ahead," Fleming Stone told him, "do all you can with Sam. I, too, +feel sure he took the pin from the chair, where Miss Clyde put it. Find +the pin, Fibsy boy, find the pin, and I'll do the rest." + +Stone spent an entire morning in Mrs. Pell's room, going over her old +letters and getting every possible light on her earlier life. + +He learned that she had been born and reared in a small town in Maine, +that she had married and gone abroad for a stay of several years, that +after that she had lived in Chicago, and for the past ten years had +resided at Pellbrook. Her husband had died fifteen years ago, and left +her his great fortune, mostly in precious stones. Ten years ago, when +she came to Berrien, she had taken all the jewels from the bankers' and +had concealed them in some place of safety which was not known to any +one but herself. + +Her diary attested this fact, over and over again. But it gave no hint +as to where the hiding-place might be. + +Stone pondered long and deeply over the statement that the gems were in +some crypt, and, as he thought, a great inspiration came to him. + +"Of course!" he said to himself, "it _is_ that! It can be nothing else!" + +But he confided his new theory to nobody; he only began to ask more +questions. + +He quizzed Iris as to her Chicago visit, and wanted a detailed account +of every minute she had spent there. Then he asked her more particularly +about the house where she was taken in the little motor car. + +"Let's try to find it," Stone said, "let's go now." + +They started off in a runabout, which Stone drove himself. Knowing that +the house might be in Meadville, they went that way. + +Iris was unable to verify the route, so they went there on the chance. + +"A wild goose chase, probably," Stone conceded, "but we'll make a stab +at it. You see, Miss Clyde, I'm getting the thing narrowed down to a few +main propositions. There is, first, a master mind at the head of all the +mystery. He is the murderer, he is your caller, Pollock, he is William +Ashton, he is the man you saw in Chicago, who attacked you that night in +Mrs. Pell's room, who kidnapped you that Sunday--in fact, he is the man +at the helm. He has underlings, but I do not think they are accomplices +or confederates, they are merely hirelings. Now, of course, Pollock is +not this man's real name, but we will call him that for identification +among ourselves. This Pollock wanted the pin, we'll say, and not only +the pin, but the paper, the receipt that was in the Florentine +pocket-book, and that was definitely bequeathed to Mr. Bannard. That +paper is quite as valuable as the pin, and he did get that." + +"Why, that was just a receipt----" + +"Yes, and the pin was just a pin! But we want them both, and therefore +we want the man, Pollock." + +"This is Meadville, but I don't see any house that could possibly be the +one they took me to. It had rather high stone front steps, with brick +uprights to them." + +They soon went through the little town, but no such peculiarity was to +be found. + +"Don't give up the ship too easily," said Stone, smiling at Iris' frown +of disappointment, "we haven't exhausted our resources yet." + +A few inquiries showed him the office of Clement Foster, the insurance +agent. + +Here Iris saw a calendar exactly like the one that had been in the room +where Flossie searched her. + +After a little talk, Fleming Stone discovered that the agent had given +out few of those calendars outside his home town, but he mentioned some +names that he remembered. + +"Do any of these people live in a house with high stone steps?" the +detective queried. + +"Lemme see; yes, Joe Young, over to East Fallville, has stone steps." + +"With brick uprights?" asked Iris, eagerly. + +"Yes, that's right. Nice little house it is, too. Right on Maple Avenue, +the prettiest street in that village." + +Thanking the agent, the inquiring pair went on their way, rejoicing. And +sure enough the house of Joe Young proved to be the very one where Iris +had been taken. + +They went in, and after introducing himself Stone learned that Mr. Young +was decidedly interested in the Pellbrook mystery, and that his father +had built the well-safe in Mrs. Pell's room. + +Moreover, Young had attended the inquest, and had kept in touch with all +the developments so far as he could learn them. + +But it was impossible to associate him with the kidnapping of Iris. He +was too frankly interested and sympathetic to be suspected of playing a +part or deceiving them in his attitude toward them. + +"Where were you a week ago Sunday?" Stone asked him suddenly. + +"Why, let me think. Oh, yes, my wife and I went over to Meadville and +spent the day with her mother's folks. Yes, that's what we did. Why?" + +"Who was here in this house?" Stone went on. + +"Nobody. It was locked up all day." + +"Has anyone a key to it, excepting yourself?" + +"No, nobody. Oh, yes, my brother has, but he's in Chicago." + +"Was he in Chicago then?" + +"Why, yes, I s'pose so. I don't know. Why?" + +"Could he have come here that day, without your knowing it?" + +"Of course he could have done so, and now you speak of it, I remember my +wife said she smelt cigar smoke when we came home. I didn't notice it +myself." + +"What's your brother's name?" + +"Young, Charlie Young. Is he up to anything wrong?" + +"Is he apt to be?" + +"Well, I wouldn't put it past him. Charlie's a case! I've tried to do +well by him, but he's been a thorn in my side for years. I'm always +expecting to have him turn up in trouble of one sort or another. Yes, if +you ask me, he might have been here that day, and cut up any sort of +monkey-shines!" + +"Do you know any young lady named Flossie?" + +"Nope, never heard of any, that I remember. But Charlie has queer +friends, if that's what you're getting at. Say, tell me more about the +Pell case, if you're from Berrien. How did the murderer get out?" + +"I haven't discovered that yet, but I hope to do so. I understand your +father was an expert carpenter and joiner?" + +"Yes, sir, he was that. He died some four years ago, but I've many +examples of his fine work. Want to see some?" + +But Stone could not stay to gratify the son's pride in the paternal +accomplishments and the two callers left and went back to Pellbrook. + +"There's the man," said Stone, briefly. "Charlie Young is the master +mind behind all this deviltry." + +"Did he kill Aunt Ursula?" asked Iris with angry eyes. + +"I don't say that, yet," Stone said, cautiously, "but he's the man who +is after the pin and----" + +The detective fell into a deep study and Iris, busy with her own +thoughts, did not interrupt him. + +She positively identified the house as the one to which she had been +taken, and if Mr. Stone said that Charlie Young was the villain who had +directed the kidnapping, though he did not appear himself, she had no +doubt Stone wad right. + +"And I've got a letter that Charlie Young wrote," Stone exulted. "I +rather think that will go far toward freeing Mr. Bannard!" + +"Oh, how?" + +"I believe that Young wrote that letter signed William Ashton, and +purposely made it look like the disguised hand of Winston Bannard." + +"It was exactly like Win's writing, but different, too. The long-tailed +letters were just like Win's." + +"Yes, and that helps prove it. If Bannard had tried to disguise his own +writing, the first thing he would have thought of would be _not_ to make +those peculiar long loops. Now their presence shows a clever trickster's +effort to make the writing suggest Bannard at once, but also to suggest +a disguised hand." + +"That is clever! How can you ever catch such an ingenious villain? Shall +you arrest him at once?" + +"Oh, no, to suspect is not to accuse, until we have incontrovertible +proof. But we'll get it! Lord, what a brain! And, yet, it may be easier +to catch a smarty like that than a duller, more plodding mind. You see, +he is so brilliant of scheme, so quick of execution, that he may well +overreach himself, and tumble into a trap or two I shall set for him." + +"Doubtless he knows you are here, doesn't he?" + +"Surely; but that doesn't matter. If things are going as I hope, I'll +bag him soon!" + +"And yet you're not sure he's the murderer?" + +"No, Miss Clyde, and I'm inclined to think he was not. However, we must +proceed with caution, but we can work swiftly, and, I hope, reach the +end soon. Matters are coming to a focus." + +As they drove under the Pellbrook _porte cochere_, a strange-looking +figure ran to greet them. + +"Hello, darkey boy, who are _you_?" sang out Stone, as the blackamoor +grinned at them. + +Iris stared, and then burst out, laughing. "Why, it's Terence!" she +cried. "For goodness' sake, Fibsy, what _have_ you been doing?" + +The boy was quite as black as any chimney sweep--indeed, as any +full-blooded negro. He had run up from the cellar at the approach of the +motor, and stood grinning at Iris and Stone. + +"I'm on a trail," he said, "and it's a mighty dark one. + +"Where will it lead you--to light?" asked Stone, smiling at the earnest, +blackened face. + +"I hope so, oh, Mr. Stone, I hope so! For the trail is somepin' fierce, +be-lieve me!" + +"Well, look out, don't get near Miss Clyde, nor me, either! You're a +sight, Fibsy!" + +"Yessir, I know it," and, without another word, the boy turned and +disappeared down the cellar entrance. + +Iris went into the house, but Stone went down to the cellar to see what +Fibsy was doing. He found the boy diligently shoveling coal from one +large coal bin to another. Nearby was Sam, quite as black as Fibsy, and +the two were a comical sight. + +Sam was seated on a box, rocking back and forth in an ecstasy of glee, +and crooning, "Colole, colole, pinny-pin in colole!" + +"That's what he says, Mr. Stone," Fibsy defended himself, "so if +pinny-pin _is_ in the coal-hole, I'm going to get her out! And if not, +then Sam's fooled me again, that's all!" + +"Terence Maguire! Do you mean to say you're going to hunt for a needle +in a haystack--I mean a pin in a coal-hole?" + +"Just that, sir. I'm onto friend Boobikins' curves, now, and I fully +believe that his present dope is the answer! Anyway, I'm taking no +chances." + +"But, Fibs, it's impossible----" + +"Sure it is, that's why I'm doing it. You run away and play, Mr. Stone, +and let me work out this end. Didn't you tell me to find the pin? Well, +I'm obeyin' orders." + +Fibsy turned to his task again, and Stone watched him for a few minutes. +The boy laboriously took up the coal in a small shovel, looked it over +with sharpest scrutiny and then dumped it into the other bin. + +By good luck the bins adjoined and the task was one of patience and +perseverance rather than of difficulty. + +Stepping toward his faithful assistant, Fleming Stone held out his hand, +and said, quietly, "Put it there, Terence!" + +Eagerly the little black paw slipped into the big, strong white one, and +the handshake that ensued was all the reward or recognition the happy +boy wanted. + +Stone went upstairs again, and Fibsy whistled gaily as he continued his +self-chosen task. + +Sam, sitting by, cheered him on by continued assertions that he _had_ +thrown the pin in the coal-bin, and had _not_ buried it in a crack of +the floor. + +And, as Fibsy had declared, he knew the half-wit now well enough to feel +pretty sure when he was telling the truth and when not. + +Meantime, Stone was pursuing his investigations. That afternoon he drove +to Red Fox Inn. He went alone, and by dint of bribes and threats he +learned that Charlie Young had been there since the day of the murder, +and had instructed the waiter who had served Bannard at his Sunday +luncheon to say that Bannard was coming from New York and not going to +it. These instructions were made as commands and were backed up by +certain forcible arguments that insured their carrying out. + +It became clear, therefore, that Young was interested in making it seem +that Bannard was at Pellbrook on Sunday afternoon instead of Sunday +morning, which latter Stone firmly believed to be the case. + +Further discreet inquiry proved Young to be a frequent visitor at the +inn, on occasions when he was in the locality, and that was said to be +often, especially of late. + +Stone went back, exultant, his brain working swiftly and steadily toward +his solution of the many still perplexing points. + + * * * * * + +Later that afternoon, as it was nearing dusk, a yell from the cellar +told, without words, that Fibsy's quest had succeeded. + +Lucille and Iris followed Fleming Stone's flying footsteps down the +stairs and found Fibsy, black but triumphant. + +"Here's your pinny-pin, Mr. Stone!" he cried, exhausted from fatigue and +excitement, and with perspiration streaming down his sooty face. "Don't +tell me it mayn't be the one! It's gotter be--oh, F. S., it's _gotter_ +be!" + +Only in moments of strong excitement did Terence address his employer by +anything but his dignified name, but this moment was a strenuous one, +and Fibsy broke loose. Tears rolled down his cheeks, as he gave the +detective a pleading look. + +"All right, Fibs, I've no doubt it's the one. Pins don't grow much in +coal-holes, and though it may not be----" a glance at the woeful +countenance made him quickly revise his speech, "But it is! I'm sure it +is," he finished, smiling kindly at the big-eyed blackamoor. + +"Sure! sure!" cried Sam, capering about, "nice pinny-pin! Sam put it +there after Missy Iris put it in chair." + +Fleming Stone looked at the pin curiously. As he had been informed, it +was a common pin, of medium size, with nothing about it to distinguish +it from its millions of brothers that are lost every day, everywhere. + +"I'll take it up where there's a better light on it," he said, finally. +"Fibsy, you're a trump, old boy, and after you've sought the assistance +that a bath-tub grants, return to the sitting room, and I'll tell you of +the value of your find, in words of one syllable." + +Elated beyond all words, Fibsy ran away to bathe, and the others went to +the sitting room that had been Ursula Pell's. + +With a very strong lens, Fleming Stone examined the pin. + +"This pin is worth its weight in gold, a million times over," he said, +after the briefest examination. "It explains all!--your aunt's bequest, +the efforts of Young to get it--but, I say, let's wait till Fibsy comes +down before I tell you the pin's secret. It's his due, after he found it +for us." + +"Yes, indeed, wait," agreed Lucille, "he'll be down soon. I'll go and +call to him to make haste." + +"Don't tell me all," said Iris to Stone, as the two were left alone, "I +want to wait till Terence comes--but tell me this, will it free +Winston?" + +"I hope so," Stone returned, "though it's another part of the mystery. +But, to my mind, Mr. Bannard is freed already." + +"Let me see the pin," and Iris took it in her hand. "Why, it is a common +pin! How can you say there's anything peculiar about it?" + +"You'll know soon," and Stone smiled at her. "Anyway, whatever else it +means, it doubtless points the way to the recovery of the fortune of +jewels that was bequeathed to you and Mr. Bannard." + +"I don't want the fortune unless Winston is freed," said Iris, sadly; +"if you think Charlie Young is the criminal, when are you going to get +him? But you say you're not sure he killed Aunt Ursula." + +"No, I'm not at all sure that he did," Stone returned gravely. "In fact, +I'm inclined to think he did not." + +"Then who did?" + +But before Stone could answer, there was an agonized whelp from outside, +as of an animal in pain. + +"Goodness!" cried Iris, "that's Pom-pom's cry! Oh, my little dogsie! +What has happened?" + +She flew out of the room, and ran out on the lawn, from which direction +she had heard the terrified cry. + +Remembering the pin, as she ran, she stuck it carefully in her belt and +hurried to the spot whence the sounds proceeded. + +It was nearly dark now, and she sped across the grass, in fear for the +safety of her pet. + +Stone started to follow her, but Lucille appeared just then, and he +paused to explain matters to her. + +When they reached the lawn, Iris was nowhere to be seen, and the little +dog, cruelly beaten, was whining in pain and distress. + +Listening intently, Stone heard the last sounds of a disappearing motor +car in the distance. + +"Kidnapped again!" he cried, angrily. "And she's got the pin with her! +Young, of course! Oh, how careless I've been!" and calling to Campbell, +he ran toward the garage for a car. + +"But how can you follow?" asked Lucille, distractedly, "you don't know +which way they went, after the turn, do you?" + +"No," said Stone, despairingly, "I don't." + + + + +CHAPTER XVI + +KIDNAPPED AGAIN + + +As Stone surmised, Iris was kidnapped again. When she leaned down to +gather in her arms the little, yelping dog, a figure sprang from the +shrubbery, and pressing a cloth into and over her mouth a man lifted her +from the ground and carried her swiftly away. + +Iris was a slender girl and the man had no difficulty in carrying her to +a small motor car, which was waiting out in the main road. The dusk +rendered them nearly invisible, and the detention of Stone by Lucille +precluded what might have been a capture of the invader. + +Placed in the car, Iris recognized at once that it was the same one in +which she had been carried off before, and she well knew it was for the +same purpose--to get possession of the pin. + +But now that Stone had told her it was valuable, she had no mind to let +it go easily. She sat quietly, as the car flew along, thinking hard what +she would better do. She knew Stone would follow and rescue her if he +had heard any signs of her departure. But the car made little noise, +and the whole affair had been so quickly accomplished that Iris feared +Stone knew nothing of it all. She assumed that he would naturally follow +her out-of-doors, to learn what had happened to her pet dog, but he +might not hasten on that errand, and a delay of a minute would make his +advent of small use to her. + +They had gone a mile or so, when the car turned into a little used path +through the woods. Another man was driving the car, and her captor sat +in the back with Iris. He still held her and kept the cloth, which +smelled faintly of chloroform, over her mouth. + +At last, when well into the woods, the car stopped, and the man got out, +and ordered Iris to get out, too. + +Her mind was made up now; she meant secretly to draw the pin from her +belt, and drop it on the ground. It was running a risk of losing it, but +it was a worse risk to have this man take it from her, and, too, after +Fibsy's successful search of the coal bin, she felt pretty sure the boy +could find the pin in the woods. She was carefully noting the trees and +stones about, when the low voice of her tormentor said, "You will hand +that pin over at once, if you please." + +"I'll do no such thing," Iris retorted with spirit. "I am not afraid of +you." + +"Nor have you reason to be, if you give up the pin quietly; otherwise, +you will find yourself in a sorry predicament." + +"I haven't the pin with me," declared Iris, feeling the falsehood +justifiable in the circumstances. + +"I regret to contradict a lady, but I don't believe you." + +The man was masked, but Iris recognized his voice and form and she well +knew it was the man who had intruded upon her in her aunt's room that +night, and she was sure it was the man who had instigated the kidnapping +and search by Flossie. Moreover, she realized it was the man she had +seen in Chicago. + +She felt an anxiety to detain him and somehow to get him in the grip of +the law, but she could think of no way to do that. + +She dared not take the pin from her belt, for his eyes were upon her, +and the dusk, though deepening, left sufficient light for him to observe +her movements. + +"Now, look here," he said, speaking more roughly, "there's no Flossie +here. You don't want me to take all the pins you have in your clothing, +do you?" + +This suggestion, and the threatening tone of the man, frightened Iris +more than all that had gone before. She was not afraid of physical +violence, something in the man's manner precluded that, but she sensed +his desperate determination to secure the pin, and she knew he would +search her clothing for it, if she refused to hand it over. + +Also, she knew there was small use in trying to fool him. Since Stone +had verified the fact that there was something about that special pin +that made it of value, since this man had tried devious ways to get it, +and since she was absolutely at his mercy, the outlook was pretty black. + +A vague hope that Fleming Stone would come to her rescue was not well +founded, for how could he know that the car that carried her off had +turned into that little woodland road? + +She thought of appealing to the manliness or better nature of her enemy, +but she knew that he would only reply that if she would give him the pin +he would not trouble her further. An idea of asking help from the man +who was in the driver's seat of the car brought only the same +conclusion. + +"Come, now," said Pollock, for it was by that name she thought of him. +"I can't waste any more time. If you don't give me that pin in two +seconds, I'll take it." + +"Don't you dare!" exclaimed Iris, trying the effect of sheer bravado. + +"Two seconds I'll give you, and they've passed. You needn't scream, for +we're far from any habitation." + +He came nearer to her, and touched the frill that was about the neck of +her gown. + +Iris was at her wits' end. She knew she would give up the pin rather +than have him search her clothing for it, and yet, she meant to put off +her surrender as long as possible. + +His own words gave her a hint, and though knowing it could do no good, +she screamed loud and long. + +The sound infuriated the man, and he sprang at her, grasping her round +the waist. + +"Stop that!" he cried, "Stop or I'll kill you!" + +His fingers were at her throat, and his frenzy was such that Iris feared +he would carry out his threat on a sudden impulse. + +But the strangle-hold he had on her brought his body near hers, and by +chance Iris' hand was flung against his side coat pocket, where she felt +what was indubitably an automatic pistol. + +Pretending to faint, she let her head sink backward, and he +involuntarily put his hand back of her neck to support her. + +With a quick motion she snatched the pistol from his pocket without his +knowledge. + +Exultant, and feeling herself safe, Iris commanded him to release her. + +He only laughed, and she whispered faintly, "Let me go, and I'll----" + +Her voice died away as if from weakness, and he partially released his +hold on her, which freed entirely her right arm. + +With a wrench, she stepped back, and aiming the automatic at him, she +said, quietly, "Step toward me, and I'll fire!" + +With a profane exclamation, Pollock clapped his hand to his side pocket +and fell back a pace or two. + +"You little vixen!" he cried. "Give me that! You'll harm yourself!" + +"Oh, no, I won't. But I'll harm you. Unless you give your driver orders +to take me straight back home, I shall make this little weapon give good +account of itself." + +From where Iris now stood, she covered the two men, and her manner +showed no signs of fear, as she calmly informed them that a move on the +part of either would be followed by a shot. + +"And," she said, "while I'm not an expert, I can manage to hit at this +short range." + +"Come, come, now, let's arbitrate," said Pollock, who, evidently, knew +when he was cornered. "Give me the pin and I'll go halves with you." + +"Halves of what?" + +"Of the treasure. Oh, don't pretend you don't know all about it! Didn't +that old smarty-cat you've got on the job tell you what the pin means?" + +"If he did, _you_ don't know," said Iris, talking blindly, for she could +make no guess why the pin was a factor in the case at all. + +"Don't I? I'm the only one who does know! Your Stone detective can never +get a cent's worth of good out of that pin without my help. I'm the only +one on earth who knows its secret, or who can turn it to use. So, now, +miss, will you make terms? Wait! You needn't take my word for this. Will +you agree that if you return safe home with your precious pin, and when +your precious detective fails to utilize the pin's secret, you'll let me +disclose it to you, and you'll give me half the value of the jewels?" + +"I most certainly will not!" + +"Then, listen. I swear to you that you will never find those hidden +jewels. Only I can tell you what the pin means, and how it leads to your +aunt's fortune. Refuse my offer, and neither you nor anyone else will +ever see one tiniest gem of your aunt's hoard." + +There was something in the man's voice that carried conviction. Iris was +a good reader of human nature, and a surety of his truthfulness came +over her. + +But she was far from willing to accede to his terms. + +"I do not entirely disbelieve you," she said, "but I most certainly will +not give you the pin----" + +"You said you didn't have it!" + +"You interrupted me! I was about to say I will not give it to you, even +after my return home." + +"Then we'll take it now! Come on, Bob." + +Evading the pointed pistol by a quick jump, Pollock dashed it from Iris' +hand, having really caught her off her guard as she grew interested in +their conversation. The driver, Bob, sprang toward them both, and they +seized Iris between them. + +A terrific scream from the girl rang through the silent woods and as the +pistol struck the ground it went off with a fairly loud report. + +Iris felt her senses going as the two men clutched her roughly, but +managed, in spite of a restraining hand, to give another loud scream. + +And it was these sounds that guided Fibsy's flying feet toward the scene +of conflict. + +He had come with Stone in the car that the detective had used to follow +Iris from Pellbrook, but as no one knew which way to look for the +kidnapper's car, they had separated, and Stone with Campbell went +hunting the highroads, while Fibsy, scenting the truth, had dived into +the wood. + +He had heard Iris' last scream, also the noise of the automatic, and he +blew a loud blast on a shrill whistle, as he hurried to the girl. + +Nearing the three, Fibsy's quick eyes saw the pistol on the ground, and +he snatched it up, and aimed it straight at the masked man. + +"Hands up!" he cried, and Pollock turned to see a small but +dauntless-looking boy threatening him. + +Again endangered by his own firearm, Pollock stood at bay, raging but +impotent in the face of the steady aim of the boy. + +In another moment Stone came, with Campbell, in the Pell car and Iris +breathed freely once more, as she felt stealthily for the pin in her +belt ribbon. It was safe, and she sank down on the ground, satisfied to +let the newcomers take charge of the whole matter. + +This they did with neatness and dispatch. + +Bidding Fibsy keep the two men covered with the small but efficacious +weapon, Stone and Campbell tied the hands of Pollock and his man Bob, +using the dustrobe from Pollock's car, cut into strips for the purpose. + +Then they bundled them unceremoniously into their own car and Stone +himself took the wheel. + +Campbell drove Iris home, but Fibsy traveled with his chief. + +The boy was thrilling with satisfaction at the way things were turning +out, and not at all vain-glorious over his own part in the affair. + +Stone turned the two men over to the police on a charge of kidnapping +and then, elated, returned to Pellbrook. + +"How can I be grateful enough to you," Iris cried at sight of the +detective, "for coming to my aid! And Fibsy, too! Oh, what should I have +done if you hadn't arrived just as you did? But how did you know where +we were?" + +"I didn't," said Stone; "it was Fibsy's idea that the man would take to +the woods. But your screams and the noise of the revolver led us at the +last. I congratulate you, Miss Clyde, on a pretty narrow escape. Those +men were desperate." + +"Oh, I know it! Pollock began by being fairly courteous, but when I +wouldn't give up the pin, he grew rough and rude." + +"Miss Clyde, we must look out for that pin. Though, now that the one who +wants it is in safe-keeping himself, there's not so much danger. But he +may have clever assistants. By the way, there's no doubt that this +so-called Pollock is Charlie Young. Hughes is putting him through a +third degree, and I think we need not concern ourselves about him just +now. He won't escape from his present quarters easily." + +"This child must go to bed now," said Lucille Darrel, with an +affectionate glance at Iris. "She's had enough to upset any ordinary set +of nerves, and she must rest." + +"Yes, Miss Clyde, go now, and I think, if you leave the pin with me I'll +keep it safely, and moreover, to-morrow morning, I'll tell you its +secret." + +"Oh, tell me now! Please do, Mr. Stone. What can it be that makes it a +key to the jewels' hiding-place?" + +"Not to-night. Indeed, I don't yet know its secret myself, but I hope to +find it out. If I may, I'll stay alone in Mrs. Pell's sitting-room for a +time, until I puzzle it out." + +Iris reluctantly went off with Lucille, and the detective locked himself +in the room where Mrs. Pell had met her tragic death. + +He had, as his working implements, the pin, a strong magnifying glass, a +thick pad of paper and a lead pencil. + +As the first streaks of dawn began to show in the eastern heavens, +Fleming Stone had, as results of his night's work, forty or fifty +scribbled pages of the pad, all of which were in the waste basket, a +small, remaining stub of lead pencil and the pin and the magnifying +glass. + +Also he had a heavy heart and a feeling of despair and dejection. + +He went to his room for a few hours' sleep before breakfast time and +when he met the family at table, he said shortly, "Finding a needle in a +haystack is child's play compared to the task ahead of us." + +He refused to explain until after breakfast, and then, Iris and Lucille +went with him to the sitting room and the door was closed upon them. +Fibsy was there, too, as the boy was never excluded from important +conferences. + +Stone locked the door, and then said, impressively, "The dime and pin +bequeathed you by your aunt, Miss Clyde, form a far more valuable +inheritance than any diamond pin I have ever seen. I congratulate you on +the possession of the pin, and I ask you where the dime is." + +"Gracious, I don't know," replied Iris. "I threw it out of the window +the day I received it, and I've never thought of it since." + +"The pin is a key to the hiding-place of the jewels, as I will explain +fully in a few minutes," Stone proceeded, "but it may be necessary to +recover the dime also, before we can utilize the information given us by +the pin." + +Iris looked bewildered, but repeated her statement as to the whereabouts +of the dime. + +"And again," Stone said, "the dime may be of no importance in the +matter. I'm inclined to think it is not, because Pollock--or Young +rather--made no effort to gain possession of the dime, did he?" + +"No; I think not. That first day he called on me, as Mr. Pollock, and +wanted the pin, I told him he might search the lawn for the dime if he +chose, but I don't think he did so." + +"I'll find the dime if it's out in the side yard," Fibsy volunteered. + +"Now, I'll tell you what this pin is," resumed Stone, holding up the +mysterious bit of brass. "It contains a cipher--a cryptogram." + +"How can it?" asked Iris, blankly. + +"On the head of this pin is engraved a series of letters which form a +cipher message telling of the hiding-place of your aunt's jewels." + +"On the head of that little pin! Impossible!" + +"It does seem impossible, but I assure you that on the surface of the +head of this pin there are thirty-nine letters, which, meaningless in +themselves, form a cipher statement. If we can solve their message----" + +"If we _can_!" cried Iris. "We _must_!" + +"You bet Mr. Stone will work it out, if it's a cipher," Fibsy declared, +looking with pride and confidence at his employer's face. + +"Not so easy, Fibs," Stone returned. "It's a cryptogram which +necessitates another bit of information, a keyword, before it can +possibly be solved. By the way, Miss Clyde, that's what your aunt's +diary means by its reference to the jewels being hidden in a crypt. If +you read her diary carefully, you'll see that she very frequently +abbreviates her words, not only Tues., for Tuesday, and Dec., for +December, but other words, just as the whim took her. So, as we may +conclude, the word crypt stands for cryptogram. And here's the +cryptogram. Now, to explain this seemingly miraculous feat of engraving +thirty-nine letters on the head of an ordinary pin, I'll say that it is +not an unheard-of accomplishment. Several years ago, I saw on exhibition +a pin with forty-five letters to it, and I have seen one or two other +similar marvels. They are done, in every instance, by a most expert +engraver, who has much time and infinite patience and capacity for +carefulness. Indeed, it is an art all by itself, and I doubt if there +are many people in the world who could accomplish it at all." + +"Can you show them to me?" Iris asked, her eyes wide with wonder. + +"Oh, yes, you can see them with this glass, though even with its aid you +may have difficulty in making out the letters." + +Iris looked long and carefully through the powerful lens, and finally +declared that she could discern the letters, but could not read them +clearly. + +Stone passed the pin and glass to Miss Darrel, and continued, "I spent +nearly the whole night over it. I have copied off the letters, so now, +if the pin should be stolen, at least we have its secret. Though, I +confess the secret is still a secret." + +"Lemme see it," begged Fibsy, as Miss Darrel gave up the effort to make +out the letters at all. + +The younger eyes of the boy read them with comparative ease. + +"O, I, N, V, L, D, L," he spelled out "Sounds like gibberish, but all +ciphers do that--why, Mr. Stone, the letters are clear enough and you +can read any cipher that ever was made up, I'll bet! You know, you first +see what letter's used most, and that's E----" + +"Hold on, Terence, not so fast. That's one kind of a cipher, to be +sure. But this is another sort. These are the letters: + +"O I N V L D L Q P S V T H P J R C R N O X X I V B A Y O D I J Y A W W K +M E U + +"There's no division into words, which, of course, makes it infinitely +more difficult." + +"Aunt Ursula was crazy over ciphers!" exclaimed Iris, "she was always +making them up. But she always called them ciphers, never cryptograms, +or perhaps I might have thought that crypt. was an abbreviation. But +can't you guess it, Mr. Stone?" + +"One doesn't guess ciphers, they must be solved. And this one is of that +peculiar kind that needs an arbitrary keyword for its solution, without +the knowledge of which there is little hope of ever getting the answer." + +"And you give it up?" + +"Oh, no, indeed? I shall solve it, but we must find the word we need to +make it clear." + + + + +CHAPTER XVII + +THE CIPHER + + +"And how would the dime help, if we had it?" Iris pursued the subject. + +"I'm not at all sure that it would," Stone replied, "but there must be +some hint on it as to the keyword. I tried an ordinary dime, thinking +the word we need might be 'Liberty' or 'United' or 'America,' But none +of those would work. I tried to think out a way where the date on the +dime would help----" + +"But you don't know the date!" + +"No; but I tried to find a way where a date would apply, but I can't +think figures are needed, it's a _word_ we must have." + +"Words on dimes are all alike," suggested Lucille. + +"Yes, but suppose a word had been engraved on this particular dime as +these letters are engraved on the pin." + +"Aunt Ursula would have been quite capable of such a scheme," Iris +averred, "for she had most ingenious notions about puzzles and ciphers. +Sometimes she would offer me a bill of large denomination, or a check +for a goodly sum, if I could guess from the data she gave me what the +figures were." + +"And did you?" + +"Never! I have no head for that sort of thing. It made my brain swim +when she finally explained it to me." + +"And yet I can't think the dime is necessary for the solution of this +cryptogram," Stone went on, "or Young would have tried to get that also. +However, now we have the man himself, he must be _made_ to give up +whatever knowledge he possesses." + +"He won't," Iris said, positively. + +Fibsy was poring over the string of letters, which he had copied from +Stone's paper. + +"That's so, F. S." he said, blinking thoughtfully, "there aren't enough +duplicates of any letter to mean E. This is a square alphabet with a key +word, sure." + +"Good for you, Terence!" and Stone smiled approvingly. "You're a real +genius for ciphers! Now, where's the key word to be looked for?" + +"On that paper Mrs. Pell left to Mr. Bannard," and Fibsy's eyes sparkled +at the idea that suddenly sprang to his brain. "Why, of course, Mr. +Stone! I didn't know I was going to say that, till it just came of +itself. But, don't you see? She left the pin to Miss Clyde, and the +receipt to Mr. Bannard and it takes them both to solve the cipher!" + +"And that receipt was stolen by the man who murdered Ursula Pell!" said +Miss Darrel; "he must have known its value!" + +"It may be you've had an inspiration, Fibsy," conceded Stone, "and it +may be the word is not on that receipt after all. But we must use every +effort to get the paper and, also, to find that dime. It may well be a +word is engraved on the coin, in the same microscopic letters as these +on the pinhead. We must try both means of solution. Will you hunt the +dime, Fibs?" + +"Sure, but I'll bet the word is on the paper. Else why'd the old lady +say that Mr. Bannard would find that receipt of interest to him? And, +too, as she left the jewels to two heirs, fifty-fifty, it stands to +reason part of the means of finding them should be given to each party." + +"That's mere conjecture," Stone said, "but we'll look up both. I've +worked hours over the cipher, and I've proved to my own satisfaction +that it cannot be solved without the knowledge of the one word needed. +It's like the combination of a safe, you have to know the word or you +can never open the door." + +"Tell me a little about it, just what you mean by key word," begged +Lucille, "I know nothing of ciphers." + +"I make it out that this cryptogram is built on what we call the +Confederacy Cipher," Stone informed her. "It is a well known plan and is +much used by our own government and by others. It is the safest sort of +a cipher if the key word is carefully guarded. To make it clear to you, +I will put on this paper the alphabet block." + +Stone took a large sheet of paper, and wrote the alphabet straight +across its top. He then wrote the alphabet straight down the left hand +side. He then filled in the letters in their correct rotation until he +had this result + + A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z + B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A + C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B + D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C + E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D + F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E + G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F + H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G + I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H + J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I + K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J + L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K + M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L + N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M + O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N + P Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O + Q R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P + R S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q + S T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R + T U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S + U V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T + V W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U + W X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V + X Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W + Y Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X + Z A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y + A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z + +"The way to use this," he explained, "is to take a keyword--let us say, +Darrel. Then let us suppose this message reads, 'The jewels are hidden +in ----.' Of course, I'm only supposing this to show you our +difficulties. I write the message and place the code word, or keyword +above it, thus: + + "Dar relDar rel Darrel Da + The jewels are hidden in + +"we repeat the keyword over and over as may be necessary. Then we take +the first letter, D, and find it in the line across the top of our +alphabet square, and the letter under D, which is T we find in the left +hand perpendicular line. Now trace the D line down, and the T line +across, until the two meet, which gives us W. This would be the first +letter of the cipher message if the key word were Darrel, and the +message like our suggested one. But the first letter of the cipher we +have to solve is O, and no possible amount of guessing can go any +further unless we have the key word Mrs. Pell used to guide us. See?" + +"Yes, I see," and Miss Darrel nodded her head. "It's most interesting. +But, as the first letter of the cipher is O, why can't you find O in +your alphabet and go ahead?" + +"Because there are twenty-six O's in the square, and it needs the key +word to tell which of the twenty-six we want." + +"It's perplexing, but I see the plan," and Lucille studied the paper, +"however, I doubt if I could make it out, even if I had the word." + +"Oh, yes, you could, and if we get the dime and the receipt that was in +the pocket-book we can try every word on them both, and I feel sure +we'll get the answer. Now, since Pollock, or Young, rather, was so +desirous of getting the pin, I argue that he had the necessary key word. +Therefore we must get it from him, if we can't get it ourselves, and I +doubt if he'll give it up willingly." + +"Of course he has the key word," Iris said, "for he told me he could +find the jewels and no one else could, if I'd hand over the pin. And he +offered to go halves with me! The idea!" + +"And yet, if he has the key word, and won't give it up, you can never +find the jewels," observed Stone. + +"You don't advise me to accept his offer, do you?" + +"No; Miss Clyde, I certainly do not. But there is another phase of this +matter, you know. If Charlie Young stole that paper from the pocket-book +he was the one who attacked your aunt----" + +"And Winston Bannard is in jail in his place! Oh, Mr. Stone, let the +jewels be a secondary consideration, get Win freed and Charles Young +accused of the murder--he must be the guilty man!" + +"It looks that way," Stone mused; "and yet, Bannard admits he was here +that Sunday morning, and had an interview with his aunt. May he not have +obtained possession of the receipt--oh, don't look like that! Perhaps +his aunt gave it to him willingly, perhaps she told him of its +value----" + +"Oh, no," cried Iris, "if all that had happened, Win would have told me. +No; when he discovered that the receipt was left to him and was +especially referred to in the will, he was amazed and disappointed to +find that old pocket-book empty." + +"He seemed to be," said Stone, but his manner gave no hint of accusation +of Bannard's insincerity. + +"Mr. Bannard, he ain't the murderer," declared Fibsy; "and that Young, +he ain't neither. Because--how'd they get out?" + +"How did the murderer get out, whoever he was?" countered Stone. + +"He didn't," said the boy, simply. + +It was soon after that, that Hughes came to Pellbrook to report +progress. + +"That Charlie Young," he said, "he's a queer dick." + +"Will he talk?" asked Stone. + +"Talk? Nothing but! He tells the most astonishing things. He vows he's +in cahoots with Winston Bannard." + +"That isn't true!" Iris cried out "Win isn't guilty himself, of course, +but he isn't mixed up with a man like Charlie Young, either!" + +"Young says," Hughes went on, "that the note asking for the pin is in +Bannard's disguised writing. He says that Bannard put him up to +kidnapping Miss Clyde and getting the pin from her so they two could get +the jewels and----" + +"What utter rubbish!" Iris said, disdainfully. "Do you mean that Mr. +Bannard wanted to get the jewels away from me? And have both his share +and my own? Ridiculous!" + +"It seems, Miss Clyde," Hughes stated, "that Young has part of some +directions or something like that, as to where to find the jewels; and +he made it up with Bannard to get the pin, which he claims is a key to +their hiding-place, and the two men were to share the loot." + +"I never heard such absurdity!" Iris' eyes blazed with anger. "Mr. +Stone, won't you go and interview this Young, and tell him he lies?" + +"I'll assuredly interview him, Miss Clyde, but suppose Mr. Bannard did +have that paper--that receipt----" + +"He didn't! Why, if he had, why would he confer with that bad man? Why +not by means of his paper, which is, you know, lawfully his, and my pin, +which was bequeathed to me, why not, those two things are all that is +necessary, find the jewels by their aid?" + +"That's the point," Stone said. "It does seem as if Young possesses some +information of importance." + +"Well," Iris went on, angrily, "now they've got the two of them there, +why can't you confront Winston with Young and let them tell the truth?" + +"Perhaps they won't," Hughes put in, "you know, Miss Clyde, we didn't +arrest Mr. Bannard without thinking there was enough evidence against +him to warrant it." + +"You did! That's just what you did! There wasn't any evidence--that is, +none of importance! Mr. Stone, you don't think Win guilty, do you?" + +Here Iris broke down, and shaking with convulsive sobs she let Lucille +lead her from the room. + +"Of course she's upset," Hughes said, with sympathy in his hard voice. +"But she's got trouble ahead. I think she's in love with Winston +Bannard----" + +"Oh, _do_ you!" chirped Fibsy, unable to control his sarcasm. "Why, what +perspicaciousness you have got! And you are quite right, Mr. Hughes, +Miss Clyde is so much in love with that suspect of yours that she can't +think straight. Now, looky here, Mr. Bannard didn't kill his aunt." + +"Is that so, Bub? Well, as Mr. Dooley says, your opinion is interestin' +but not convincin'." + +"All right, go ahead in your own blunderin' way! But how did Mr. Bannard +get out of the locked room?" + +"Always fall back on that, son! It's a fine climax where you don't know +what to say next! I'll answer, as I always do, how did any other +murderer get out of the room?" + +"He didn't," said Fibsy. + +"Oho! And is he in there yet?" + +"Nope. But I can't waste any more time on you, friend Hughes, I've +sumpthing to attend to. Mr. Stone, I'll go and get that dime now, shall +I?" + +"Go ahead, Fibs," Stone returned, absently, "and I'll go along with you, +Hughes, and see if I can make anything out of your new prisoner." + +Fibsy went first in search of Sam, and having found that +defective-minded but sturdy-bodied lad, undertook to inform him as to +their immediate occupation. + +"See," and Fibsy showed Sam a dime, "you find me one like that in the +grass, and I'll give you two of 'em!" + +"Two--two for Sam!" + +"Yes, three if you find one quick! Now, get busy." + +Fibsy showed him how to search in the short grass of the well-kept lawn, +and he himself went to work also, diligently seeking the dime Iris had +flung out of the window in her irritation. + +While Sam lacked intellect, he had a dogged perseverance, and he kept on +grubbing about after Fibsy had become so weary and cramped that he was +almost ready to postpone further search until afternoon. + +They had pretty well scoured the area in which the flung coin would be +likely to fall, and just as Fibsy sang out, "Give it up, Samivel, until +this afternoon," the lad found it. + +"Here's dime!" he cried, picking it from the grass. "Sammy find it all +aloney!" + +"Good for you, old chap! You're a trump! Hooray!" + +"But give Sammy dimes--two--three dimes." + +"You bet I will! Here--here are five dimes for Sammy!" + +Eagerly the innocent received the coins, and scampered away, having no +further interest in the one he had found. + +Fibsy examined the dime, but could see no engraving on it, nor any +letters other than those the United States Mint had put there. + +The date was 1892, if that meant anything. + +Carefully wrapping it in a bit of paper, Fibsy stowed it in his pocket +and went into the house to await Fleming Stone's return. + +And when Stone did return, it required no great discernment to see that +he was dejected and discouraged. + +He received the dime with a smile of hearty approval, but it was quickly +followed by a reappearance of the distressed frown that betokened +non-success. + +"What's up, Mr. Stone?" Fibsy inquired. + +"Not my luck," was the reply; "Fibs, we're up against it." + +"Let her go! What's the answer?" + +"Well, that Young is a hard nut to crack." + +"Not for you, F. S." + +"Yes, for me, or for anybody. He's got a perfect alibi." + +"Always distrust the 'perfect alibi.' That's one of the first things you +taught me, Mr. Stone." + +"I know it, Fibs, but this alibi is unimpeachable." + +"A peach of an alibi, hey?" + +"That, indeed! You remember Joe Young, over at East Fallville?" + +"Yes, sir, I do." + +"Well, he says that his brother, Charlie Young, was at his house to +dinner on that Sunday that Mrs. Pell was killed. He says Charlie arrived +about half-past twelve, and he staid there until after four o'clock. +Says they were together all that time. Now, that man Joe Young, is, I am +sure, an honest man. Besides, his story is verified by his wife. Of +course, Charlie Young declares he was at his brother's during those +hours, and in the face of all the corroboration I can't disbelieve it. +But, granting that alibi, who is left to suspect but Winston Bannard?" + +"How'd Young catch onto all the pin and dime and receipt business, +anyway?" asked Fibsy, with seeming irrelevance. + +"I don't know, I'm sure." + +"There's something back of that," and Fibsy wagged a sagacious nod. + +"Maybe. But whatever's back of it may incriminate Young to the extent of +trying to get the pin from Miss Clyde, perhaps even having stolen the +receipt from Bannard, but it positively lets him out of any implication +in the murder." + +"Oh--I don't know." + +"Why, child, if he was really at Joe Young's house from noon till four +o'clock, how could he have been here at the time Mrs. Pell was killed?" + +"He couldn't." Fibsy was taciturn, but his knitted brow told of deep +thought. + +"I got a hunch, Mr. Stone, that's all I can say for the minute--it +mayn't be right, and then again it may, but--I got a hunch!" + +"All right, Fibs, work it out your own way. But remember, that alibi +stands. I can see a leak in a story as quickly as the next man, but that +Joe Young is honest as the day, and his wife is too. And when they +assert--we telephoned them, you know--when they assert that Charlie +Young was there at that time, I believe he was." + +"I believe it, too, Mr. Stone. Now, what about that dime?" + +Fleming Stone took his strong magnifying-glass and studied the coin. + +"Nothing on it, Fibs, except what belongs there. It might have been, as +I hoped, that the keyword was one of these words that are stamped on, +but I tried them all, any dime was all right for that. This particular +ten-cent piece has no distinguishing characteristics that I can see. +The date is of no help, I think, for unless I'm altogether wrong as to +the type of cipher, figures are not usable. But I'll keep it safe until +I'm sure it's no good." + +"All right, Mr. Stone. Now, I guess I'll work on my hunch! Wanta help?" + +"Yes, if it isn't beyond my power." + +"Oh, come now," and Fibsy blushed scarlet at the realization that he had +seemed to plume himself on his own cleverness, "but here's the way I'm +goin' about it. Say I'm the murderer. Say that door's locked on this +side." They were alone in Mrs. Pell's sitting room. + +"Let's lock it, to help along the local color," suggested Stone, and he +did so. + +"Yes, sir. Now--but say, Mr. Stone, wait a minute. What became of those +ropes?" + +"Ropes?" + +"Yes, that the murderer bound her ankles with and her wrists. Weren't we +told that there were marks on her wrists and ankles where she'd been +bound with ropes?" + +"Yes, well, the murderer took those away with him." + +"Did he 'bring 'em with him?" + +"Probably." + +"Then it wasn't Mr. Bannard. If he killed his aunt, which he didn't, he +never came up here with a load of ropes and things! But never mind that, +now. Say I'm the murderer. I've attacked the old lady and I've got the +paper I wanted, and all that. Now, how do I get out!" + +Fleming Stone watched the boy, fascinated. Absorbed in the spirit of his +imagined predicament, Fibsy stood, his bright eyes darting about the +room, as if really in search of a means of exit. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII + +SOLUTION AT LAST + + +"I am here," he muttered, "I have killed her, or, at least, she is +dying--lying there on the floor, dying--I have to get out before the +servants break in--I can't get out, there's no way I can get out. Mr. +Stone, he _didn't_ get out, because----" + +"Because he wasn't in!" interrupted Fleming Stone, excitedly. "Oh, Fibs, +do _you_ see it that way too?" + +"Sure I do! Fancy anybody untyin' a lot o' ropes, and freein' the lady +and makin' a getaway, ropes and all, in two or three minutes, and +besides, he _couldn't_ get out!" + +Fibsy stated this as triumphantly as if it were a new proposition. "The +upset table," he went on, "the smashed lamp, with its long, green cord, +the poor lady's dress open at the throat----" + +"Yes," Stone nodded, eagerly, "yes,--and I daresay she had lace frills +at her wrists and neck----" + +"Of course she did! Oh, the plucky one!" + +And then the two investigators put their heads together and +reconstructed to their own satisfaction the whole scene of Mrs. Pell's +tragic death. + +"I'll go right over to see Young again," Stone said, at last, "and you +skip around to see Mrs. Bowen; she'll tell you more than Miss Clyde +can." + +"Of course she will, and the dominie, too." + +After a long argument, Fleming Stone persuaded Young that it would +really be better for him to tell the truth, as to his movements on that +fatal Sunday, than to persist in his falsehoods. + +Stone did not tell the prisoner of his brother's confirmation of his +unimpeachable alibi, but he told him that he was sure he did not murder +Mrs. Pell. + +"However," Stone said, "unless you tell the truth about her death, you +will not only be suspected but convicted." And, finally, seeing it was +his best hope, Young told his story. + +"I went to the house about half-past eleven Sunday morning," he stated, +"everybody had gone to church, and the old lady was there alone." + +"What did you go for?" + +"To get that receipt and the pin." + +"Why those two things?" + +"I had reason to think that they meant the discovery of her great hoard +of jewels. I'm telling you all, for I want to prove that I not only did +not kill the lady, but had no thought or intention of doing so." + +"You took ropes along to tie her with?" + +"Hardly that. I had some strong twine, as I thought she might prove +fractious, and I was determined to get the pin and paper." + +"How did you ever know about those things?" + +"My uncle made the pin--engraved it, I mean. He was a marvelously expert +engraver in the firm of Craig, Marsden & Co. After his death I came +across a memorandum that gave away the secret. Not the solution of the +cipher, exactly, he didn't know that himself. But a statement that he +had engraved the pin for Mrs. Pell, and that, with the receipt for the +work itself, it formed a direction as to where the jewels were hidden." + +"And you demanded these things of her?" + +"Yes, I told her the jewels belonged partly to my uncle." + +"Did they?" + +"No; not exactly, though Mrs. Pell had promised him some small stones, +and I'm not sure she gave them to him." + +"Go on, tell it all." + +"I'm willing to, for my game is up, and I want to get away from a +murder charge! My heavens, I'd never think of _killing_ anybody!" + +"Wait a minute, you say you reached the house about eleven-thirty. How +did you come?" + +"I was in my little car. I left that in the woodland road." + +"And that's when Sam saw you." + +"I suppose so. I didn't see him." + +"Did you see Bannard?" + +"I did. He was coming away from the house as I started toward it." + +"He didn't see you?" + +"No, I took good care of that." + +"Then he did go away at nearly noon, and he was on his way down to New +York when he stopped at the Red Fox Inn." + +"Yes, his story is all true. I fixed up the Inn people to put it the +other way, because I feared for my own skin." + +"You _are_ a fine specimen! Well, go on." + +"Well, I was bound to get that pin. I asked Mrs. Pell for it, and she +laughed. She wasn't a bit afraid of me. Plucky old thing! I _had_ to tie +her while I hunted around! She was ready to scratch my eyes out!" + +"And you beat her--bruised her!" + +"No more than I had to. She struggled like a wildcat." + +"And you upset the table in your scrap?" + +"We did not! Nor smash the lamp. Nor did I dash her to the floor. I'm +telling you the exact truth, because there's so much seeming evidence +against me that I'm playing safe. I searched all the room, and I found +the paper, but I couldn't find the pin." + +"You cut out her pocket?" + +"I did, but I didn't tear open her gown at the throat, nor did I fling +her to the floor to kill her on the fender. I finally untied her and +went away, leaving her practically unharmed, save for a few bruises. +Why, man, she was at dinner after that, with guests present." + +"And where were you?" + +"I went right over to my brother's--I suppose you won't believe this, +you'll think he's standing by me to save my life--but it's true. I +reached Joe's by half-past twelve, and I staid there till four or so. +There was nobody more surprised than I to hear of Mrs. Pell's murder! I +left that woman alive and well. The slight bruises were nothing, as is +proved by her presence at the dinner table." + +"I can't see why she didn't tell of your visit." + +"She was a very peculiar woman. And she had it in for me! I think she +felt that she could get me and punish me with more surety by biding her +time till she could see her lawyer, or somebody like that. It seems to +me in keeping with her peculiar disposition that she kept my attack on +her a secret, until she chose to reveal it!" + +"Mr. Young, I wouldn't believe this strange story of yours, but for your +brother's statements and my absolute conviction of your brother's +honesty. Both he and his wife tell a staightforward tale of your arrival +and departure on that Sunday, which exactly coincides with your own. And +there is other corroboration. Now, you are held here, as you know, for +other reasons; kidnapping is a crime, and not a slight one, either." + +"I know it, Mr. Stone, and I'll take my punishment for that, but I'm not +guilty of murder. I was possessed to get hold of that pin. I planned +clever schemes to get it, but they all went awry, and I became +desperate. So, when I found a chance, I took it. I did Miss Clyde no +real harm, and I was willing to go halves with her. The day I had two +friends take her to my brother's house, he being away for the day, she +was in no danger, and at but slight inconvenience. Flossie, as Miss +Clyde will tell you herself, was neither rude nor ungracious." + +"Never mind all that, now, give me the receipt." + +Young hesitated, but a warning scowl from Stone persuaded him, and with +a sigh he handed over what was without doubt the receipt in question. + +"This is Winston Bannard's property," said the detective, "and you do +well to give it up." + +There was much to be done, but Fleming Stone was unable to resist the +temptation to go home at once and work out the cryptogram, if possible, +by the aid of the receipt. + +The paper itself was merely a bill for the engraving on the pin. The +price charged was five hundred dollars, and the bill was receipted by +J. S. Ferrall, who, Young had said, was the man who did the engraving. + +There were various words on the bill, both printed and written. Working +with feverish intensity, Stone tried them one by one, and when he used +the word Ferrall as a keyword, he found he had at last succeeded in his +undertaking. + +Beginning thus: + + FERRALLFERRALLFERRALL + OINVLDLQPSVTHPJRCRNOX + +he pursued his course by finding F in his top alphabet line. Running +downward until he struck O, he noted that was in the cross line +beginning with J. J, therefore was the first letter of the message. Next +he found E at the top, and traced that line down to I, which gave him E +for his second letter. Going on thus, he soon had the full message, +which read: + + "Jewels all between L and M. Seek and ye shall find." + +This solved the cipher, but was far from being definite information. + +In a conclave, all agreed that the message was as bewildering as the +cipher itself. + +Mr. Chapin could give no hint as to what was meant. Neither Iris nor +Lucille Darrel could imagine what L and M stood for. + +"Seems like a filing cabinet or card catalogue," suggested Stone, but +Iris said her aunt had not owned such a thing. + +"Well, we'll find them," Stone promised, "having this information, we'll +somehow puzzle out the rest." + +"Look in the dictionary or encyclopedia," put in Fibsy, who was scowling +darkly in his efforts to think it out. + +"You can't hide a lot of jewels in a book!" exclaimed Lucille. + +"No; but there might be a paper there telling more." + +However, no amount of search brought forth anything of the sort, and +they all thought again. + +"When were these old things hidden?" Fibsy asked suddenly. + +"The receipt is dated ten years ago," said Stone, "of course that +doesn't prove----" + +"Where'd she live then?" + +"Here," replied Iris. "But I've sometimes imagined that she took her +jewels back to her old home in Maine to hide them. Hints she dropped now +and then gave me that impression." + +"Whereabouts in Maine?" + +"In a village called Greendale." + +"Her folks all live there?" + +"I think her parents did----" + +"What are their names? Did they begin with L or M?" + +"No; both with E. They were Elmer and Emily, I think." + +"Whoop! Whoop!" Fibsy sprang up in his excitement, and waved his arms +triumphantly. "That's it! L and M means El and Em! Elmer and Emily!" + +"Absurd!" scoffed Lucille, but Iris said, "You're right! Terence, you +are right! That would be exactly like Aunt Ursula! And the jewels are +buried between their two graves in the old Greendale cemetery! I dimly +remember some things Auntie said, or sort of hinted at, that would just +prove that very thing!" + +"It sounds probable," Stone agreed, and Mr. Chapin said it was in his +mind, too, that Mrs. Pell had hinted at Maine as her hoarding place, +though he had partially forgotten it. + +"But this is merely surmise," Stone reminded them, "and while it may be +the truth, yet is it not possible that investigation will only give us +further directions or more puzzles to work out?" + +"It is not only possible but very probable," said Mr. Chapin. "I know my +late client's character well enough to think that she made the discovery +of her hoard just as difficult as she could. It was a queer twist in her +brain that impelled her to play these fantastic tricks. Moreover, I +can't think she would trust that fortune in gems to the lonely and +unprotected earth of a cemetery." + +"That's just what she would do," Iris insisted. "And really, what could +be a safer hiding-place? Who would dream of digging between two old +graves unless instructed to do so? And who could know of these secret +and hidden instructions?" + +"That's all so, Miss Clyde," Stone agreed with her. "I think it a +marvellously well chosen place of concealment, and I am inclined to +think the jewels themselves are there. But it may not be so. It may be +we have further to look, more ciphers to solve. But, at least we are +making progress. Now, who will make a trip to Maine?" + +"Not I!" and Iris shook her head. "I care for the fortune, of course, +but it is nothing to me beside the freedom of Mr. Bannard. I hope, Mr. +Stone, that Charlie Young's confession of how he bruised and hurt poor +Aunt Ursula proves Win's innocence and----" + +"Not entirely, Miss Clyde. You see, we have his proof that Mr. Bannard +left this house at half-past eleven, or just before Young arrived, but +that won't satisfy the police that Mr. Bannard did not return at three +o'clock or thereabouts." + +"But he was on his way to New York then." + +"So he says; but the courts insist on proof or testimony of a +disinterested witness." + +"But surely someone can be found who saw Win between the time he lunched +at the inn, and the time he reached his rooms in New York." + +"That's what we're hoping, but we haven't found that witness yet." + +"Well, anyway," Iris pursued, "the people who saw him at the inn--at +what time?" + +"At about half-past twelve or so, I think." + +"Well, their word proves that Win wasn't hidden here while we were at +dinner, as some have suspected!" + +"That's a good point, Miss Clyde! Now, if we can find a later +witness----" + +"But who did commit the murder?" asked Lucille. "You've put that Young +out of the question, now, Lord knows I don't suspect Win Bannard, but +who did do it?" + +"And how did he get out?" added Fibsy, with the grim smile that often +accompanied that unanswerable question. + +"He must be found!" Iris exclaimed. "I told you at the outset, Mr. +Stone, that I want to avenge Aunt Ursula's death as well as find the +fortune she left." + +"Even if suspicion clings to Mr. Bannard?" + +"He didn't do it! All the suspicion in the world can't hurt him, because +it isn't true! I shall free him, if necessary, by my own efforts! Truth +must prevail. But more than that I want the murderer found. I want the +mystery of his exit solved. I want to know the whole truth, and after +that, we'll go to dig for the treasure. If no one knows of the meaning +of the cipher message but just us few, no one else can get ahead of us, +and dig before we get there. Please, please, Mr. Stone, let the jewels +wait, and put all your energies toward solving the greater mystery of +Aunt Ursula's death." + +"A strong point in favor of Mr. Bannard," Stone said, thoughtfully, "is +the fact of the clues that seemed to incriminate him. If he had been a +murderer, would he have left the half-smoked cigarette, so easily traced +to him? Would he have gone off with a check, drawn that very day, in his +pocket?" + +"And the paper! He left that!" exclaimed Lucille. + +"No," said Stone, "he didn't leave that. Young left that." + +"How do you know?" + +"Because Young was staying at a boarding-house up in Harlem, and the New +York paper, still unfolded, had in it a circular of a Harlem laundry. +That's why I remarked to Terence that the man who left that came from +near Bob Grady's place, which is a saloon near the laundry in question. +That paper never came from the locality where Bannard lives." + +"And that proved Mr. Young's presence," Fibsy said. "Just as the +cigarette proved Mr. Bannard's. Now neither of those men would have left +those clues if they had murdered the lady." + +"I've always heard that a murderer does do just some such thoughtless +thing," remarked Chapin. + +"This murderer didn't," and Fibsy shook his head. "When you goin' to +tell 'em, Mr. Stone?" + +"Is Mrs. Bowen coming over?" + +"Yes, sir, and here she comes now." + +The minister's wife came hurrying into the room, and stared at the +detective. + +"You sent for me, Mr. Stone? I don't know anything--about----" + +"Nothing that seems to you important, perhaps. But, please, answer a few +simple questions. Did Mrs. Pell wear lace frills at her wrists and +throat at dinner that Sunday you were here? I've asked Miss Clyde, and +she can't remember." + +"Yes, sir, she did. I recollect I had never seen her wearing such full +and elaborate ones before." + +"Did you notice anything else peculiar about her attire?" + +"Only a spot of blood on the instep of her white stocking." + +"Did you make any mention of it?" + +"No; I thought at the time a mosquito had bitten her. But afterward I +heard it remarked at the inquest that her ankles had been tied and cut +by cords until they bled a little. I can't see how that could have +happened before dinner." + +"That's just when it did happen. I think, my friends, that I will now +tell you what I am positive is the truth of this matter, though it will +at first seem to you incredible. Will you let me reconstruct the whole +day, as far as I can. Mrs. Pell was on her verandah, when her niece and +her servants went to church. Soon after Winston Bannard came. They went +into Mrs. Pell's sitting room, and she willingly gave her nephew a check +for a large amount. Bannard went away, leaving behind a half-burned +cigarette, but nothing else that we know of. Immediately came Charlie +Young. He entered Mrs. Pell's sitting room, and found her there alone. +The house doors were all open. He demanded the pin, and, he threatened +her and finally he used rough treatment. He cut out her pocket in his +desperate determination to secure the pin and the receipt, which later +he found in the old pocket-book. + +"He tied her in a chair, that he might better make undisturbed search, +and finally went away, taking with him the cords with which he had bound +her, the receipt and such moneys as he had found about the room, and +leaving behind his New York paper. Then, left bruised and hurt, Mrs. +Pell, instead of following the procedure of the usual woman, pulled +herself together, and, angry and indignant, told no one of her awful +experience, but attended the dinner table and entertained her guests as +if nothing untoward had occurred. She did not change her gown but she +added wrist frills to conceal her bruises, and she doubtless failed to +notice the stain on her stocking. + +"Then, after dinner, after the guests departed and Miss Clyde had gone +to her own room, Mrs. Pell went into her sitting room, to rest and +perhaps to plan vengeance on her assailant. But weak from shock, perhaps +ill and dizzied, she stumbled over that long cord that is attached to +the table lamp, upset lamp and table, and herself fell and hit her head +on the fender. Doubtless she herself pulled open the neck of her gown as +she gasped her last. She called out for help, and cried 'Thieves!' in a +dazed remembrance of the attack that had been made on her by the thief. +She locked the door, of course, when she first entered the room. I'm +told that was her invariable custom of a Sunday afternoon. Then, after +the poor lady screamed out with her dying breath, the servants came and +were forced to break in the door to effect an entrance." + +"That's it, all right, and it all checks up," said Fibsy, solemnly. +"Cause why? Cause there ain't any other explanation that'll fit all the +circumstances." + +Nor was there. It did all check up. Further evidence was sought and +found. Witnesses proved the truth of Bannard's declarations. Sam +identified Young as the man he had seen prowling round in the woods that +morning, and everything fitted in like the pieces of a picture puzzle. + +There was no way for a murderer to escape from that locked room, because +there was no murderer and had been no murder. Young's was not a +murderous assault, though it was enough to earn him his well-deserved +punishment, and the fact that the servants heard the crash of the +overset table and lamp proved that it had not happened at the time of +Young's visit. + +No one had chanced to enter Mrs. Pell's sitting-room between the call of +Young and the breaking in of the door, so the ransacked desk and the +opened safe were not discovered. + +What had been taken from the safe they never knew, for Young declared +there was nothing in it, and they partially believed him. + +But the jewels which were found buried between the graves of Ursula +Pell's parents, Elmer and Emily Pell, were of sufficient value to make +it a matter of little moment what was stolen from the safe. + +And Winston Bannard was set free and came home in triumph to the smiling +girl awaiting him. + +Only Fleming Stone knew that Win Bannard had been so evasive and +taciturn regarding himself because he feared that if he were freed Iris +might be suspected. + +He gave Iris the glory of bringing about his release, and though she +disclaimed it, she whispered to him, "I said I would win for Win! The +only thing that bothered me was that note seemingly in your writing, +though disguised." + +"I know," said Bannard, "and I knew somebody did that to make it seem +like me, but I couldn't think who the villain could be." + +"It was all a mighty close squeak," Fibsy said, thoughtfully. "I believe +the keynote was struck when Sam told me he had dropped the 'pinny-pin in +the colole! If he hadn't we never would have got anywhere!" + +"We wouldn't have then," said Stone, generously, "if Fibsy hadn't +grubbed in the 'colole' for the pinny-pin." + +"And found it!" chimed in Bannard. "In recognition of which one Terence +Maguire, Esquire, shall receive, shortly, one diamond pin!" + +"Aw, shucks!" said Fibsy, greatly embarrassed at the praise heaped upon +him; "but," he added, "I'd like it a heap!" + +And he did. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE DIAMOND PIN*** + + +******* This file should be named 35022.txt or 35022.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/0/2/35022 + + + +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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