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diff --git a/41525-8.txt b/41525-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2e5ac6a..0000000 --- a/41525-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8007 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of The House Opposite, by Elizabeth Kent - -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/license - - -Title: The House Opposite - A Mystery - -Author: Elizabeth Kent - -Release Date: December 2, 2012 [EBook #41525] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OPPOSITE *** - - - - -Produced by sp1nd, eagkw and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - The - House - Opposite - - A Mystery - - By - - Elizabeth Kent - - - [Illustration] - - - G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS - New York and London - The Knickerbocker Press - 1903 - - - - - COPYRIGHT 1902 - BY - G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS - - Published, August, 1902 - Reprinted, January, 1903; March, 1903; October, 1903 - - - The Knickerbocker Press, New York - - - - -CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER I PAGE - THROUGH MY NEIGHBOUR'S WINDOWS 1 - - CHAPTER II - I AM INVOLVED IN THE CASE 7 - - CHAPTER III - A CORONER'S INQUEST 25 - - CHAPTER IV - UNWILLING WITNESSES 36 - - CHAPTER V - MRS. ATKINS HOLDS SOMETHING BACK 49 - - CHAPTER VI - A LETTER AND ITS ANSWER 66 - - CHAPTER VII - MR. MERRITT INSTRUCTS ME 72 - - CHAPTER VIII - AN IDENTIFICATION 93 - - CHAPTER IX - I INSTRUCT MR. MERRITT 107 - - CHAPTER X - THE MISSING HAT 129 - - CHAPTER XI - MADAME ARGOT'S MAD HUSBAND 148 - - CHAPTER XII - A PROFESSIONAL VISIT OUT OF TOWN 160 - - CHAPTER XIII - MR. AND MRS. ATKINS AT HOME 179 - - CHAPTER XIV - MY HYSTERICAL PATIENT 198 - - CHAPTER XV - A SUDDEN FLIGHT 208 - - CHAPTER XVI - THAT TACTLESS DETECTIVE 220 - - CHAPTER XVII - ONE WOMAN EXONERATED 231 - - CHAPTER XVIII - THE TRUTH OF THE WHOLE MATTER 249 - - - - -THE HOUSE OPPOSITE - - - - -CHAPTER I - -THROUGH MY NEIGHBOUR'S WINDOWS - - -What I am about to relate occurred but a few years ago--in the summer -of '99, in fact. You may remember that the heat that year was something -fearful. Even old New Yorkers, inured by the sufferings of many summers, -were overcome by it, and everyone who could, fled from the city. On -the particular August day when this story begins, the temperature had -been even more unbearable than usual, and approaching night brought -no perceptible relief. After dining with Burton (a young doctor like -myself), we spent the evening wandering about town trying to discover -a cool spot. - -At last, thoroughly exhausted by our vain search, I decided to turn in, -hoping to sleep from sheer fatigue; but one glance at my stuffy little -bedroom discouraged me. Dragging a divan before the window of the front -room, I composed myself for the night with what resignation I could -muster. - -I found, however, that the light and noise from the street kept me -awake; so, giving up sleep as a bad job, I decided to try my luck on the -roof. Arming myself with a rug and a pipe, I stole softly upstairs. It -was a beautiful starlight night, and after spreading my rug against a -chimney and lighting my pipe I concluded that things really might be -worse. - -Across the street loomed the great Rosemere apartment-house, and I noted -with surprise that, notwithstanding the lateness of the hour and of -the season, several lights were still burning there. From two windows -directly opposite, and on a level with me, light filtered dimly through -lowered shades, and I wondered what possible motive people could have -for shutting out the little air there was on such a night. My neighbours -must be uncommonly suspicious, I thought, to fear observation from so -unlikely a place as my roof; and yet that was the only spot from which -they could by any chance be overlooked. - -The only other light in the building shone clear and unobstructed -through the open windows of the corresponding room two floors higher up. -I was too far below to be able to look into this room, but I caught a -suggestion of sumptuous satin hangings and could distinguish the tops of -heavy gilt frames and of some flowering plants and palms. - -As I sat idly looking upwards at these latter windows, my attention was -suddenly arrested by the violent movement of one of the lace curtains. -It was rolled into a cord by some unseen person who was presumably on -the floor, and then dragged across the window. A dark object, which I -took to be a human head, moved up and down among the palms, one of which -fell with an audible crash. At the same moment I heard a woman's voice -raised in a cry of terror. I leaped to my feet in great excitement, but -nothing further occurred. - -After a minute or so the curtain fell back into its accustomed folds, -and I distinctly saw a man moving swiftly away from the window -supporting on his shoulder a fair-haired woman. Soon afterwards the -lights in this room were extinguished, to be followed almost immediately -by the illumination of the floor above. - -What I had just seen and heard would not have surprised me in a -tenement, but that such scenes could take place in a respectable house -like the Rosemere, inhabited largely by fashionable people, was indeed -startling. Who could the couple be? And what could have happened? -Had the man, coming home drunk, proceeded to beat the woman and been -partially sobered by her cry; or was the woman subject to hysteria, or -even insane? I remembered that the apartments were what are commonly -known as double-deckers. That is to say: each one contained two -floors, connected by a private staircase--the living rooms below, the -bedrooms above. So I concluded, from seeing a light in what was in all -probability a bedroom, that the struggle, or whatever the commotion had -been, was over, and that the victim and her assailant, or perhaps the -patient and her nurse, had gone quietly, and I trusted amicably, to bed. - -Still ruminating over these different conjectures, I heard a -neighbouring clock strike two. I now noticed for the first time signs of -life in the lower apartment which I first mentioned; shadows, reflected -on the blinds, moved swiftly to and fro, and, growing gigantic, -vanished. - -But not for long. Soon they reappeared, and the shades were at last -drawn up. I had now an unobstructed view of the room, which proved to -be a drawing-room, as I had already surmised. It was dismantled for the -summer, and the pictures and furniture were hidden under brown holland. -A man leant against the window with his head bowed down, in an attitude -expressive of complete exhaustion or of great grief. It was too dark -for me to distinguish his features; but I noticed that he was tall and -dark, with a youthful, athletic figure. - -After standing there a few minutes, he turned away. His actions now -struck me as most singular. He crawled on the floor, disappeared under -sofas, and finally moved even the heavy pieces of furniture from their -places. However valuable the thing which he had evidently lost might be, -yet 2 A.M. seemed hardly the hour in which to undertake a search for it. - -Meanwhile, my attention had been a good deal distracted from the man by -observing a woman in one of the bedrooms of the floor immediately above, -and consequently belonging to the same suite. When I first caught sight -of her, the room was already ablaze with light and she was standing by -the window, gazing out into the darkness. At last, as if overcome by her -emotions, she threw up her hands in a gesture of despair, and, kneeling -down with her elbows on the window sill, buried her head in her arms. -Her hair was so dark that, as she knelt there against the light, it was -undistinguishable from her black dress. - -I don't know how long she stayed in this position, but the man below had -given up his search and turned out the lights long before she moved. -Finally, she rose slowly up, a tall black-robed figure, and disappeared -into the back of the room. I waited for some time hoping to see her -again, but as she remained invisible and nothing further happened, and -the approaching dawn held out hopes of a more bearable temperature -below, I decided to return to my divan; but the last thing I saw before -descending was that solitary light, keeping its silent vigil in the -great black building. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -I AM INVOLVED IN THE CASE - - -It seemed to me that I had only just got to sleep on my divan when I was -awakened by a heavy truck lumbering by. The sun was already high in the -heavens, but on consulting my watch I found that it was only ten minutes -past six. Annoyed at having waked up so early I was just dozing off -again when my sleepy eyes saw the side door leading to the back stairs -of the Rosemere slowly open and a young man come out. - -Now I do not doubt that, except for what I had seen and heard the night -before, I should not have given the fellow a thought; but the house -opposite had now become for me a very hotbed of mystery, and everything -connected with it aroused my curiosity. So I watched the young man -keenly, although he appeared to be nothing but a grocer's or baker's -boy going on his morning rounds. But looking at him again I thought him -rather old for an errand boy, for they are seldom over eighteen, while -this young fellow was twenty-five at the very least. He was tall, dark, -and clean-shaven, although not very recently so. He wore no collar, and -had on a short, black coat over which was tied a not immaculate white -apron. On his arm hung a covered basket, which, from the way he carried -it, I judged to be empty, or nearly so. - -It may have been my imagination,--in fact, I am inclined to think it -was,--but it certainly seemed to me that he stole furtively from the -house and glanced apprehensively up and down the street, casting a look -in my direction. I thought that he started on encountering my eyes. Be -that as it may, he certainly drew his battered hat farther over his -face, and, with both hands in his pockets, and chewing a straw with real -or assumed carelessness, walked rapidly up town. - -I now found my position by the window too noisy, so sought the quiet -and darkness of my bedroom, where I fell immediately into such a heavy -sleep that it was some time before I realised that the alarm-bell that -had been clanging intermittently through my dreams was in reality my -office-bell. Hurriedly throwing on a few clothes, I hastened to open the -door. - -A negro lad stood there, literally grey with terror. His great eyes -rolled alarmingly in their sockets, and it was several minutes before I -could make out that somebody had been killed, and that my services were -required immediately. - -Hastily completing my dressing, and snatching up my instrument case, I -was ready to follow him in a few moments. What was my astonishment and -horror when he led me to the Rosemere! - -For a moment my heart stood still. My thoughts flew back to last night. -So this was the explanation of that scream, and I had remained silent! -Dolt, imbecile that I was! I felt positively guilty. - -The large entrance hall through which I hurried was crowded with excited -people, and, as I flew up in the elevator, I tried to prepare myself for -the sight of a fair-haired girl weltering in her blood. On the landing -at which we stopped were several workmen, huddled together in a -small knot, with white, scared faces. One of the two doors which now -confronted me stood open, and I was surprised to notice that it led, not -to either of the apartments I had watched the night before, but to one -of those on the farther side of the building. Yet here, evidently, was -the corpse. - -Passing through the small hall, filled with rolls of paper and pots of -paints, I entered a room immediately on my right. Here several men stood -together, gazing down at some object on the floor; but at my approach -they moved aside and disclosed--not a golden-haired woman, as I had -feared, but the body of a large man stretched out in a corner. - -I was so astonished that I could not help giving vent to an exclamation -of surprise. - -"Do you know the gentleman?" inquired a man, whom I afterwards -discovered to be the foreman of the workmen, with quick suspicion. - -"No, indeed," I answered, as I knelt down beside the body. - -A policeman stepped forward. - -"Please, sir, don't disturb the corpse; the Coroner and the gen'l'man -from headquarters must see him just as he is." - -I nodded assent. One glance was sufficient to show me that life had been -extinct for some time. The eyes were half open, staring stupidly before -them. The mouth had fallen apart, disclosing even, white teeth. As he -lay there on his back, with arms spread out, and his hands unclenched, -his whole attitude suggested nothing so much as a drunken stupor. He -appeared to be twenty-five or thirty years old. No wound or mark of -violence was visible. He wore a short, pointed beard, and was dressed in -a white linen shirt, a pair of evening trousers, a black satin tie, silk -socks, and patent-leather pumps. By his side lay a Tuxedo coat and a low -waistcoat. All his clothes were of fine texture, but somewhat the worse -for wear. On the other hand, the pearl studs in his shirt-bosom were -very handsome, and on his gold sleeve-links a crest was engraved. - -As I said before, a glance had been enough to tell me that the man was -dead; but I was astonished to discover, on examining him more closely, -that he had been dead at least twenty-four hours; mortification had -already set in. - -As I arose to my feet, I noticed a small, red-haired man, in the most -comical deshabille, regarding me with breathless anxiety. - -"Well, Doc, what is it?" - -"Of course, I can give no definite opinion without making a further -examination," I said, "but I am inclined to believe that our friend -succumbed to alcoholism or apoplexy; he has been dead twenty-four hours, -and probably somewhat longer." - -"There, now," exclaimed the foreman; "I knew he hadn't died last night; -no, nor yistidy, neither." - -"But it can't be, I tell you!" almost shrieked the little Irishman. -"Where could he have come from? Oh, Lord," he wailed, "to think that -sich a thing should have happened in this building! We only take the -most iligant people; yes, sir, and now they'll lave shure, see if they -don't. It'll give the house a bad name; and me as worked so hard to keep -it genteel." - -A commotion on the landing announced the arrival of a stout, florid -individual, who turned out to be the Coroner, and a quiet, middle-aged -man in plain clothes, whom I inferred, from the respect with which he -was treated, to be no other than the "gen'l'man" from headquarters. -After looking at the corpse for some moments, the Coroner turned to us -and demanded: - -"Who is this man?" - -The little Irishman stepped forward. "We don't none of us know, sor." - -"How came he here then?" - -"The Lord only knows!" - -"What do you mean?" - -"Well, sor, it's this way. This apartment is being re-fixed, and five -men were working here till six o'clock yistidy evening, and when they -left they locks the door, and it has a Yale lock; and they brought me -the key and I locks it away at once; and this morning at seven they come -while I was still half asleep, having slept bad on account of the heat, -and I gets up and opens the safe myself and takes out the key and gives -it to this gintleman," pointing to the foreman; "and he come up here, -and a few minutes afterwards I hear a great hue and cry and the workmen -and elevaytor-boy come ashrieking that a body's murthered upstairs. How -the fellow got in here, unless the Divil brought him, I can't think; and -now here's the doctor that says he's been dead twenty-four hours!" - -At my mention the Coroner turned towards me with a slight bow. "You are -a doctor?" - -"Yes, I am Dr. Charles Fortescue, of Madison Avenue. My office is -exactly opposite; I was summoned this morning to see the corpse; I find -that the man has been dead at least twenty-four hours. I have not yet -made an examination of the body, as I did not wish to disturb it till -you"--with a bow which included his companion--"had seen it; but I am -inclined to think he died of alcoholism or apoplexy." - -"Let me make you acquainted with Mr. Merritt, Dr. Fortescue," said the -Coroner, waving his hand in the direction of the gentleman referred to. -I was surprised to learn that this insignificant-looking person was -really the famous detective. - -"Now, gentlemen," said Mr. Merritt, "I must request you all to leave the -room while Dr. Fortescue and I take a look round." - -As soon as we were alone, the detective knelt down and proceeded to -examine the body with astonishing quickness and dexterity. Nothing -escaped him; even the darns in the socks appeared worthy of his -interest. When he had finished, he beckoned me to approach, and together -we turned the body over. As I had discovered no sign of violence, I was -about to tell him that, unless the autopsy disclosed poison, the man had -certainly died from natural causes, when Mr. Merritt pointed to a small -drop of blood at the side of his shirt front immediately above the -heart, which had escaped my observation. In the middle of this tiny spot -a puncture was visible. - -We now partially disrobed the corpse, and I was stupified to find that -the deceased had indeed been assassinated, and by an instrument no -larger than a knitting-needle. In the meantime, the detective had been -carefully inspecting the clothing. There were no marks on anything -except those with which laundries insist on disfiguring our linen. In -the waistcoat pocket he found six dollars in bills and seventy-five -cents in change; also a knife; but no watch, card, or letter. - -Mr. Merritt now whipped out a magnifying glass and searched everything -anew; but if he discovered any clue he kept the knowledge of it -discreetly to himself. After going over every inch of the floor and -examining the window he peered out. - -"So you live there, Doctor," he remarked, with a glance opposite. - -"No," I replied, "my house is further north; my office faces the other -set of apartments." - -Being curious to see if we were anywhere near either of the apartments -I had watched during the night, I, too, leaned out and looked hastily -in the direction of my roof. We were exactly on a level with it, and -consequently the adjoining suite must be the one in which I had noticed -the dark-haired woman and the man whose ill-timed hunt had puzzled me so -much. Their behavior had certainly been very peculiar. Had they anything -to do with this murder, I wondered. I was startled by a soft voice at my -elbow, remarking quietly: "You seem struck by something." As I was not -anxious, at least not yet, to tell him of my experiences of the night -before, I tried to say in the most natural tone in the world: "Oh, I -was only noticing that we are exactly on a level with my roof." "I had -already observed that," he said. After a slight pause, he continued: "We -must now find out who saw the deceased enter the building, for in a -place so guarded by bell-boys, elevator-boys and night-watchmen as this -is, it seems hardly possible that he could have come in unperceived." - -On entering the next room we found the Coroner deep in conversation with -the foreman. He turned abruptly to me: - -"This man tells me that you uttered an exclamation of surprise on seeing -the corpse. What made you do so?" - -That unlucky ejaculation! I hesitated a moment, rather at a loss to know -what to reply. Every one turned towards me, and I felt myself actually -blushing. "I was at first struck by a fancied resemblance," I at last -managed to stammer, "but on looking closer I saw I had been completely -mistaken." - -"Humph," grunted the Coroner, and I was aware that every one in the -room eyed me with suspicion. "Well," he continued, still looking at me -severely, "can you tell us what the man died of?" "Yes," I answered; "he -met his death by being stabbed to the heart by a very small weapon, -possibly a stiletto, but a sharp knitting-needle, or even a hat pin, -could have caused the wound. The crime was committed while he was -unconscious, or at least semi-conscious, either from some drug or -alcohol; or he may have been asleep. He made no resistance, and in all -probability never knew he had been hurt." - -There was profound silence. - -"It is, then, impossible that this wound was self-inflicted," inquired -the Coroner. - -"Quite impossible," I rejoined. - -"So that he was presumably murdered the night before last and smuggled -into this apartment some time between six o'clock last evening and seven -o'clock this morning?" continued the Coroner. Then, turning to the -little red-headed manager, he asked: - -"Now, Mr. McGorry, how is it possible for this corpse to have been -brought here? The foreman testifies that he himself locked the door in -the presence of several workmen; you tell me that the key remained in -your safe all night. Now, please explain how this body got here?" - -"Lord-a-mercy, sor, you don't think as I did it!" shrieked McGorry. -"Why, sor, I never saw the man before in my life; besides, I have got a -alibi, sor; yes, sor, a alibi." - -"Stop, Mr. McGorry; don't get so excited; nobody is accusing you of -anything. But if this place was locked up last night, how came the body -here this morning? The lock has not been tampered with. Was there a -duplicate key?" - -"Yis, sor; but the other key was also in my safe," replied McGorry. - -"Have either of these keys ever been missing?" - -"Shure and they haven't been out of my keeping since the apartment was -vacated last May, until three days ago when the painters begun work -here. Since then they have had one of the keys during the day, but have -always returned it before leaving." - -"Now, tell me," continued the Coroner, turning to the foreman, "has the -key been missing since you had it?" - -"Not that I know of; we leave it sticking in the door all day, and only -take it out when we leave." - -"So that it is possible that a person might have come to the door, taken -the key, and kept it for some hours without your noticing it?" - -"Yes, sir, it's possible, but it aint likely; I haven't seen anyone pass -since I've been working here." - -"Could the corpse have been brought in here any other way than through -the front door?" - -"No, Mr. Coroner," a quiet voice at my side replied; "I have just -examined the fire-escape and all the windows. The fastenings have not -been tampered with, and the dust on the fire-escape shows no signs of -recent disturbance." Mr. Merritt had gone on his search so unobtrusively -that I had not noticed his absence till he reappeared, a good deal less -immaculate than before. - -"Is it possible to enter this building unperceived?" the Coroner -resumed. - -"I should have said not," replied McGorry; "but now everything seems -possible." Even the Coroner had to smile at his despondent tone. - -"The front door is opened at seven o'clock and closed at eleven, unless -there's something special going on," McGorry continued, "and during -those hours there are always one or two boys in the hall, and often -three. After eleven the watchman opens the front door and takes the -people up in the elevaytor. No one but meself has the key to this -outside door." - -"Does the watchman never leave the front hall except to take people up -in the elevator?" - -"Well, I don't say niver, sor, but he's niver far off." - -"Then I gather that it would be just possible for a person to get out -of this house unperceived between eleven P.M. and seven A.M., but -impossible, or nearly so, for him to enter?" - -"Yes, that's so, that's what I think, sor." - -"Well, what about the back door?" I asked. - -"Well, the back door is opened at six and closed at tin," replied -McGorry. - -"The back door is not guarded during the day, is it?" I went on, -forgetting the Coroner in my eagerness. - -"Doctor," broke in the latter, "allow me to conduct this inquiry. Yes, -McGorry, who watches over that?" - -"Well, sor, at present no one; there's a back elevaytor, but it don't -run in summer, as the house is almost empty." - -"Then, as I understand it, any one can enter or leave the building by -the back stairs, at any time during the day, unseen, or at any rate -unnoticed; but after ten o'clock they would require the assistance of -some one in the house to let them in?" - -"That's so, sor." - -"Now, you are sure that the deceased was not a temporary inmate of this -building; that he wasn't staying with any of the parties who are still -here?" - -"Certain, sor." - -"And no one has the slightest clue to his identity?" - -"No one has seen him except these gen'l'men and Jim. He's the elevaytor -boy who went for you, Doc, and he didn't say nothing about knowing him." - -The Coroner paused a moment. - -"What families have you at present in the building?" - -"Well, sor, most of our people are out of town, having houses at -Newport, or Lenox, and thereabouts," McGorry answered, with a vague -sweep of his hand, which seemed to include all those favored regions -which lie so close together in fashionable geography. "Just now there -are only two parties in the house." - -"Yes, and who are they?" - -"Well, sor, there's Mr. C. H. Stuart, who occupies the ground floor -right; and Mr. and Mrs. Atkins, who have the apartments above this, only -at the other end of the building." I pricked up my ears. Atkins, then, -must be the name of the golden-haired lady and her assailant. - -"Have these people been here long?" - -"Mr. Stuart has been with us seven years. He is a bachelor. Mr. and Mrs. -Atkins have only been here since May; they are a newly-married couple, -I am told." And not a word of the mysterious pair I had seen in the -adjoining apartment! Was McGorry holding something back, or was he -really ignorant of their presence in the building? - -"Are you sure, Mr. McGorry, that there is no one else in the house?" I -interrupted again. - -"Yes, sor." Then a light broke over his face: "No, sor; you are quite -right" (I hadn't said anything). "Miss Derwent has been two nights here, -but she's off again this morning." Mr. Merritt here whispered something -to the Coroner, whereupon the latter turned to McGorry and said: "Please -see that no one leaves this building till I have seen them. I don't wish -them to be told that a murder has been committed, unless they have heard -it already, which is most probable. Just inform them that there has been -an accident, do you hear?" - -"Oh, Mr. Coroner," exclaimed McGorry, turning almost as red as his hair -in his excitement; "shure and you wouldn't mix Miss Derwent up in this! -Lord, she ain't used to such scenes; she'd faint, and then her mother -would never forgive me!" - -"Every one, Miss Derwent included, must view the corpse," he replied, -sternly. - -"Oh, sor, but----" - -"Silence!" thundered the Coroner; "the law must be obeyed." - -So the manager went reluctantly out to give the desired order. On his -return, the Coroner resumed: - -"Who is Miss Derwent?" - -"Why Miss May Derwent," exclaimed McGorry; "she's just Miss May -Derwent." So it was the fashionable beauty I had been watching so far -into the night. Strange, and stranger! - -"Miss May Derwent," McGorry continued, taking pity on our ignorance, "is -the only daughter of Mrs. Mortimer Derwent. She arrived here -unexpectedly on Tuesday. She had missed her train, she said, and came -here to pass the night." - -"Did she come alone?" - -"Yis, sor." - -"Without even a maid?" - -"Yis, sor." - -"Surely that is an unusual thing for a rich young lady to do?" - -"Yis, sor," replied McGorry, apologetically; "she has never done it -before. Maybe the maid was taken on by the train." - -"Did Miss Derwent bring any luggage?" - -"Nothing but a hand-bag, sor." - -"And yet she stayed two nights! Do you know any reason for her staying -here so long?" - -"No, sor, unless it was she had some shopping to do. A good many parcels -come for her yistidy afternoon." - -"Have you a key to her apartment?" - -"Yis, sor; when families goes away for the summer they leaves one key -with me and takes the other with them." - -"Did you let Miss Derwent into her apartment, or did she have the key?" - -"I let her in." - -"Did anyone wait on the young lady while she was here?" - -"What do you mean by that?" inquired McGorry, cautiously. - -"Why, did anyone go into her place to get her meals and tidy up, etc?" - -"No, sor, not that I know of." - -"Doesn't it strike you as peculiar that a young lady, reared in the lap -of luxury and unaccustomed to doing the least thing for herself should -go to an apartment in which dust and dirt had been accumulating for -several months and voluntarily spend two nights there, without even a -servant to perform the necessary chores for her, mind you?" - -"She went out for her meals," McGorry put in, anxiously, "and young -ladies, especially the rich ones, think roughing it a lark." - -There was a slight pause. - -"What servants are there in the building besides your employees, Mr. -McGorry?" - -"Mr. Stuart, he keeps a man and his wife--French people they are; and -Mrs. Atkins, she keeps two girls." - -The Coroner now rose, and, followed by Mr. Merritt, proceeded towards -the room where the dead man lay. - -"Send up your employees, one by one, McGorry." - -"Yis, sor." - -On the threshold the detective paused a moment, and to my astonishment -and delight requested me to accompany them. The Coroner frowned, -evidently considering me a very unnecessary addition to the party, but -his displeasure made no difference to me; I was only too happy to be -given this opportunity of watching the drama unfold itself. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -A CORONER'S INQUEST - - -We took our places at the foot of the corpse, with our backs to the -light and silently awaited developments. In a few minutes McGorry -returned, followed by the electrician, and during the rest of the -time remained in the room checking off the men as they came in. It is -needless for me to repeat all the testimony, as a great deal of it was -perfectly irrelevant; suffice it to say that the electrician, engineer, -and janitress all passed the ordeal without adding an iota to our -information. The watchman when called persisted, after the severest -cross-questioning, in his first assertion that neither on Wednesday -night nor last night had he seen or heard anything suspicious. The only -person he had admitted on either night was Mr. Atkins, who had returned -at about half-past one that very morning; he was sure that he had seen -no stranger leave the building. - -At last Jim, the elevator boy, was called in. He appeared still very -much frightened, and only looked at the corpse with the greatest -reluctance. - -"Have you ever seen this man before?" demanded the Coroner. - -"No, sah," answered Jim, in a shaking voice. - -"Now, my lad, take another look at him. Are you still so sure that you -have never seen him before," gently insisted Mr. Merritt; "for, you -see, we have reason to believe that you have." Jim began to tremble -violently, as he cast another glance at the dead man. - -"Lord-a-massy, sah; p'raps I did, p'raps I did; I dunno, he looks some -like--not 'zactly----" - -"Do you know his name?" - -"No, sah." - -"When did you see him last?" - -"Tuesday ebenin', sah." Here the boy glanced apprehensively at McGorry. - -"Come, come, my lad," the Coroner exclaimed, impatiently; "tell us all -you know about the man. The truth, now, and the whole truth, mind you; -and don't you look at any one to see how they are going to like what you -say, either." - -"No, sah." Jim hesitated a moment, then burst out: "I do think as he's -the same gem'man as come to see Miss Derwent last winter, and he come to -call on her about half-past six on Tuesday." - -"Miss Derwent--" exclaimed McGorry, taking a step forward. - -"McGorry," said the Coroner, severely, "don't try to interfere with -justice and intimidate witnesses. Now, my boy, tell us how long did the -gentleman stay with Miss Derwent." - -"Dey went out togedder 'most immedjutely, and den dey come back -togedder." - -"At what time did they return?" - -"Must have been 'bout eight, sah." - -"Did he go upstairs with the young lady?" - -"Yes, sah." - -"When did he leave?" - -"I can't say, sah; I didn't see him leave." - -"How was that?" - -"Well, you see, sah, in de summer, when de house is mos' empty, we's not -so partic'lar as we are in de winter, and we takes turn and turn about -oftener, 'specially in de ebenin'." - -"I see," said the Coroner. - -"An' so dat ebenin I goes off at half-past eight and Joe he run de -elevator till eleben." - -"Did any one call on Miss Derwent yesterday?" - -"I see nobody, sah." - -"Did the young lady go out during the day?" - -"Yes, sah." - -"Tell us all you know of her movements." - -Jim rubbed his woolly pate in some perplexity: "Well, sah, yesterday de -young lady she went out mighty early, little before eight, maybe, and -den she come back about ten; but she don't stay long; goes out again -mos' right away." - -Here Jim paused, evidently searching his memory. - -"'Pears to me she come in 'bout half-past twelve; at any rate 'twasn't -no later, and she goes out again immedjutely. Yes, sah, and den I seed -her come in 'bout seven, and I aint seen her again," he ended up with a -sigh of relief. - -"And you are sure that she was alone each time you saw her?" - -"Yes, sah. A good many parcels come for her in de afternoon," he added. - -"Well, Jim," said the Coroner, "you may go now; but mind you, don't say -a word about this business to any one; do you hear? If I find out you -have been gossipping I'll know how to deal with you," and he looked -so threatening that I'm sure the unfortunate boy expected capital -punishment to follow any incautious remark. - -"Pardon me," said Mr. Merritt, with a slight bow towards the Coroner, -"but I should like to ask Jim how this man was dressed when he saw him -last." - -"Just so 's he is now, sah," replied Jim, pointing to the Tuxedo coat, -which had been thrown over the body. - -The negro lad who next appeared, bowing and scraping, was not at all -intimidated by the scene before him, and seemed to think himself quite -the hero of the occasion. - -"Your name is Joe Burr, I believe," began the Coroner, consulting a -small paper he held in his hand, "and you run the elevator here?" - -"Yes, sah." - -"Now look carefully at this body and tell me if you recognize it as that -of anyone you know." - -The boy looked at the dead man attentively for some moments and then -answered: "Yes, sah." - -"Who is he?" - -"I dunno his name, sah; he wouldn't send up his card." - -"Have you seen him often?" - -"No, sah; just dat once." - -"When was that?" - -"Tuesday ebenin', sah." - -"At what time?" - -"It was a quarter to ten, 'zactly." - -"How are you so sure of the exact time?" the Coroner asked, in some -surprise. - -"'Cause I thought it mighty late to call on a lady, and so I looked at -de clock when I come down." - -"Do you remember his ever calling on Miss Derwent before?" - -"Why, sah, 'twasn't Miss Derwent he was calling on; 'twas Mrs. Atkins." -This was a surprise; even the detective seemed interested. - -"So it was Mrs. Atkins he had been calling on," exclaimed the Coroner. - -"No, sah; it were Mrs. Atkins he gwine ter call on. He only come at a -quarter to ten. He wouldn't send up his card; said he's 'spected." - -"And did Mrs. Atkins receive him?" - -"Yes, sah." - -"Do you remember at what time he left?" - -"No, sah; I didn't see him go out." - -"Now, Joe, there was another gentleman calling in the building on that -evening. When did he leave?" - -Joe seemed bewildered. "I didn't see no other gem'man, sah." - -"Now, my lad, try and remember!" - -"No, sah; I dun saw no one else. Mr. Stuart, he come in at ten----" - -"No, no; it is a tall, dark gentleman, slightly resembling the corpse, -that we want to hear about." - -"I see no such party, sah." - -"Didn't a gentleman answering to this description call here at about -half-past six and ask for a lady?" - -"I couldn't say, sah; I wa'n't in de building at dat time." - -"Did you see Miss Derwent on Tuesday?" - -"Yes, sah; I seen her arrive." - -"Didn't you see her go out again?" - -"No, sah." - -"How long were you out?" - -"I went out at six, sah, and stayed till eight, or maybe later." - -"So you persist in saying that the only stranger you saw enter or leave -the building on Tuesday evening, was the deceased?" - -"Yes, sah." - -"And you are quite sure that you are not mistaken in your -identification?" - -"Yes, sah; I noticed him partic'lar." - -"What made you notice him particularly?" - -The lad hesitated. "Out with it," said the Coroner. - -"Well, sah, he seemed like he been drinking." - -"How did he show it?" - -"He talked loud and angry, sah." - -"Do you know what he was angry about?" - -"You see, sah, we have orders to ask visitors to send deir names, or -deir cards up, and to wait in de reception room till we find out if de -parties are at home, or will see dem. Well, he comes in and says very -loud, gettin' into de elevator, 'Take me up to de fifth floor,' and I -says, says I, 'Do you mean Mrs. Atkins?' and he says, 'Yes, fellow, and -be quick 'bout it.' And den I asks him to wait, and send up his card, -and he roars: 'Min' your own business, fellow; I'm 'spected.' So I gwine -take him up, and rings de bell, and he says: 'Dat's all.' But I waited -till de door opened, and there were Mrs. Atkins herself, and she didn't -say not'in', and he jus' went in." - -Joe paused for breath. - -"Is Mrs. Atkins in the habit of answering the door-bell herself?" - -"No, sah; I neber see her do so befo'." - -"Was Mr. Atkins in the house at the time?" - -"No, sah; de gem'man was out of town." Another sensation! - -"When did he return?" - -"Some time las' night." - -"Now," inquired the Coroner, "what can you tell us about Miss Derwent's -movements during the last two days?" - -Joe's answers coincided, as far as they went, with Jim's statements. - -"And Mrs. Atkins,--what did she do yesterday," the Coroner asked. - -"Well, sah, she went out mighty early and stayed till late in de -arternoon, and when she come in she had her veil all pulled down, but -'peared to me she had been crying." - -"Did she say anything?" - -"No, sah." - -"Now, Joe, would it have been possible on Tuesday evening for a man to -walk downstairs, and go out, without your seeing him, while you were -running the elevator?" - -"Yes, sah, p'raps," the lad answered, dubiously; "but Tony, he's de hall -boy, he would 'a seen him." - -"Have you told us all you know of the deceased?" - -"Yes, sah." - -"And you have not noticed any strangers hanging around the building -during the last few days?" - -"No, sah." - -"Very well, then; you may go. Send in Tony." - -"Yes, sah; t'ank you, sah," and Joe bowed himself out. - -A few minutes later a small darky appeared. - -"Now, Tony," began the Coroner, solemnly, "look at this man carefully; -did you ever see him before?" The boy looked at the body attentively for -some time, then said: "No, sah." - -"Do you mean to say that you saw no one resembling the deceased come to -this building on Tuesday evening?" - -"No, sah." - -"Where were you on that evening? Now, be careful what you answer." - -"Well, sah, I went out 'bout half-past six to do some errands for Mr. -McGorry." McGorry nodded assent to this. - -"And when did you return?" - -"Guess it must have been mos' eight, sah, but I disremember, 'zactly." - -"Did you see Miss Derwent either come in or go out on Tuesday evening?" - -"Yes, sah, I seen her come; she had a satchel." - -"But did you see her again after that?" - -"No, sah." - -"Mrs. Atkins--what did she do on Tuesday?" - -"Dunno, sah; didn't see her go out all day." - -"And yesterday, what did she do then?" - -"Mrs. Atkins? She went out in de mornin' and come in in de ebenin'." - -"Did you notice anything unusual about her?" - -"Well, 'peared to us she'd been crying." - -"Can you remember who went in or out of the building on Tuesday -evening?" the Coroner asked. - -"Well, sah, near's I can say only two gem'men come in--Mr. Stuart, and a -gem'man who called on Mrs. Atkins." - -"Does the corpse at all resemble that gentleman?" - -"I couldn't rightly say, sah." - -"Why not?" - -"Well, sah, I was a-sittin' in de office when he come, an' I jus' see a -big man go past and heard him talkin' loud in de elevator." - -"While Joe was upstairs what did you do?" - -"I sat in de front hall, sah." - -"Did you see anyone go out?" - -"No, sah." - -After being severely admonished not to speak of this affair to anyone, -Tony was allowed to depart. - -"Now we have got through with the employees of the building," said the -Coroner, "and must begin on the families and their servants." - -"Yes, Mr. Coroner, and I think I had better step up-stairs myself and -tell Mr. and Mrs. Atkins that you want to see them," said Mr. Merritt, -"and, in case the lady should be overcome by the sad news, perhaps it -would be as well for Dr. Fortescue to come along also." - -I was only too delighted, of course. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -UNWILLING WITNESSES - - -Not waiting for the elevator, we walked up the intervening flight and -rang a bell on our right. The door was opened by a neat-looking maid, -who showed some surprise at our early call. - -"Is Mr. Atkins at home?" inquired the detective. - -"Yes, sir; but he is having his breakfast." - -"Ah, indeed; I am sorry to disturb him," replied Mr. Merritt. "However, -it can't be helped. Will you please tell your master that two gentlemen -must see him for a few moments on important business." - -"Yes, sir," and showing us into a gaudily furnished room on our left, -the girl vanished. I saw at once that this was not the scene of last -night's drama, but a smaller room adjoining the other. My observations -were almost immediately interrupted by the entrance of a young man, -whose handsome face was at that moment disfigured by a scowl. - -"Mr. Atkins, I believe," said Mr. Merritt, advancing towards him with -his most conciliatory smile. Mr. Atkins nodded curtly. "It is my painful -duty," continued the detective, "to inform you that a very serious -accident has occurred in the building." - -The frown slowly faded from the young man's forehead, giving place to a -look of concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed, in the most natural -manner; "what has happened? Can I do anything?" - -"Well, Mr. Atkins," replied Mr. Merritt, slowly, "to tell you the truth, -a man has been killed, and as we haven't been able to find any one so -far who can identify him we are going through the formality of asking -every one in the building to take a look at the corpse, hoping to -discover somebody who knew the dead man, or at any rate can give us some -clue to his identity. Will you and Mrs. Atkins and your two servants, -therefore, kindly step down-stairs? The body is lying in the unoccupied -apartment on the next floor." - -"Killed!" exclaimed young Atkins. "How dreadful! how did it happen?" -But without waiting for an answer he pulled out his watch, which he -consulted anxiously. "Pardon me, gentlemen, but I have a most important -engagement down town which it is impossible for me to postpone. My wife -is not up yet, and I really can't wait for her to get ready; but I can -go with you now, and take a look at the poor fellow on my way out. In -the meantime, Mrs. Atkins will dress as quickly as possible, and follow -with the two girls as soon as she is ready." - -"All right," said Mr. Merritt; "that will do nicely. Dr. Fortescue," -with a wave of his hand in my direction, "will stay here, and escort -Mrs. Atkins down-stairs. Ladies sometimes are overcome by the sight of -death." - -"Yes, yes; and my wife is very excitable," rejoined the young man. "I am -glad Dr. Fortescue will wait and go down with her--if it isn't troubling -you too much," he added, turning towards me. - -"Not at all," I replied, politely but firmly, with my eyes on Mr. -Merritt. "I shall be delighted to _return_ for Mrs. Atkins in a quarter -of an hour and escort her down-stairs." - -I watched the detective keenly to see how he would take this -disregarding of his orders, but he only smiled amiably, almost -triumphantly, I thought. Mr. Atkins now left us, and I could hear him -dashing up-stairs several steps at a time. How I longed to pierce the -ceiling, and hear how he broke the news to his wife, and above all to -observe how she took it. He returned in a few minutes, and, snatching -his hat from the hall-table, prepared to follow us. On the way down he -inquired with great interest about the accident, but Merritt put him off -with evasive replies. When confronted with the dead body, he gazed at -it calmly, but with a good deal of curiosity. - -"Did you know the deceased?" the Coroner asked him. - -The young man shook his head. "Never saw him before." Then, looking at -the corpse more closely he exclaimed: "Why, he is a gentleman; can't you -find out who he is?" - -"We haven't been able to, so far," replied the Coroner. - -"How did the accident occur?" - -"He was murdered." - -The young man started back in horror.--"Murdered, and in this -house--How, when?" - -"Presumably the night before last." - -Was it my imagination, or did Mr. Atkins turn slightly pale? "Tuesday -night," he muttered. After a brief silence he turned to us, and -withdrawing his eyes from the corpse with obvious difficulty, said, in a -hearty, matter-of-fact voice: "Gentlemen, I regret that I have to leave -you. I should like to hear some more of this affair, but I suppose if -you do discover anything you will keep it pretty close?" - -"You bet we'll try to," the Coroner assured him. After shaking us all -most cordially by the hand, Mr. Atkins departed, and was escorted -down-stairs by the detective, whose excessive politeness seemed to -me very suspicious. "Was he going to put a sleuth on the young man's -tracks?" I wondered. - -The air in the room was heavy with the odour of death, so I stepped out -on the landing. The workmen were all talking in low tones. "I know that -Frenchman did it; I know it," I overheard one of them say. Much excited -by these words, I was just going to ask who the Frenchman was, and why -he should be suspected, when Mr. Merritt stepped out of the elevator and -rang the bell of the opposite apartment. Miss Derwent had evidently not -been far off, for the door was opened almost immediately, and a tall, -slight young figure stood on the threshold. She was dressed in a quiet -travelling suit, and a thick brown veil pulled down over her face -rendered her features, in the dim light of the landing, completely -invisible. - -"Miss Derwent?" inquired Mr. Merritt. She bowed. "You have no doubt been -told," he continued, "that a very serious accident has occurred in the -building." She inclined her head slowly. "As we have been unable to -identify the corpse"--here the detective paused, but she gave no sign -and he went on--"we are asking every one in the house to take a look at -it." - -Instead of answering, the girl went back into the apartment, but -returned in a minute, carrying a handbag. Stepping out on to the landing -she shut and locked the door behind her with apparent composure. As she -turned to follow the detective she asked, in a low but distinct voice: -"How did this accident occur?" - -"That, we have not yet been able to ascertain," he replied, leading her -to the room where the dead lay. I hastily stepped back and resumed my -former position at the foot of the corpse. As the girl crossed the -threshold she hesitated a moment, then walked steadily in. - -"Miss May Derwent, I believe?" the Coroner inquired, in his suavest -tones. Again she bowed assent. - -"Please look at this man and tell me if you have ever seen him before." -Before replying, the girl slowly lifted her veil and revealed to my -astonished eyes, not only a face of very unusual beauty, but--and this -is what I found inexplicable--coils of golden hair! Where were the raven -locks I had seen only a few hours before? Had I dreamed them? But no, my -memory was too clear on this point. My surprise was so great that I am -afraid I showed it, for I caught Mr. Merritt looking at me with one of -his enigmatical smiles. Miss Derwent was excessively pale, with heavy -black rings under her eyes, but otherwise she seemed perfectly composed. -She looked at the corpse a moment, then turning towards the Coroner, -said, in a clear, steady voice: "I do not know the man." - -"Have you ever seen him before?" - -"No," she answered, quietly. - -"Miss Derwent, pardon my questioning you still further, but I have been -told that a gentleman closely resembling the deceased called on you on -Tuesday evening. Now, do you see any resemblance between the two?" - -A burning blush overspread the girl's face, and then she grew so ghastly -pale that I moved to her side, fearing she would fall. - -"Mr. Coroner, can't the rest of the questions you have to ask Miss -Derwent be put to her somewhere else?" I suggested. "The atmosphere here -is intolerable." - -"Certainly," he replied, with unexpected mildness. - -I drew the young lady's unresisting hand through my arm and supported -her into the next room. She was trembling so violently that she would -have fallen if I had not done so, and I could see that it was only by -the greatest self-control that she kept any semblance of composure. - -"Now," resumed the Coroner, "if you feel well enough, will you kindly -answer my last question?" - -"The gentleman who called on me on Tuesday does not resemble the dead -man, except in so far that they both have black, pointed beards." - -"At what time did your friend leave you on Tuesday evening?" was the -next question asked. - -"I cannot see why the private affairs of my visitors or myself should -be pried into," she replied, haughtily. "I decline to answer." - -"My dear young lady," here interposed Mr. Merritt, "you have, of -course, every right not to answer any question that you think likely to -incriminate you, but," he continued with a smile, "it is hardly possible -that anything could do that. On the other hand, it is our duty to try -and sift this matter to the bottom. You certainly will agree with the -necessity of it when I tell you that this man has been murdered!" - -"Murdered!" the girl repeated, as if dazed. "Oh, no!" - -"I regret to say that there is absolutely no doubt of it. Now, one of -the elevator boys has identified the corpse as that of the gentleman -who called on you the day before yesterday. I do not doubt that he was -mistaken,--in fact, I am sure of it; but as no one saw your friend leave -the building, it becomes incumbent on us to make sure that he did so. It -will save a great deal of trouble to us, and perhaps to yourself, if you -will tell us the gentleman's name and at what hour he left here." - -She had covered her face with her hands, but now dropped them, and -lifting her head, faced us with an air of sudden resolution. - -"Gentlemen," she began, then hesitated and looked at us each in turn, -"you can readily imagine that it will be a terrible thing for me if -my name should in any way, however indirectly, be connected with -this tragedy. But I see that it is useless to refuse to answer your -questions. It will only make you believe that I have something to -conceal. I can but ask you, you on whom I have no claim, to shield from -publicity a girl who has put herself in a terribly false position." - -"Miss Derwent, I think I can assure you that we will do everything in -our power to help you. Nothing you say here shall be heard beyond these -walls unless the cause of justice demands it." The Coroner spoke with -considerable warmth. Evidently, Miss May's charms had not been without -their effect on him. - -"Very well, then," said the girl, "I will answer your questions. What do -you want to know?" - -"In the first place, please tell us how you came to spend two nights in -an unoccupied apartment?" - -"I suppose you already know," she answered, a trifle bitterly, "that -I arrived here unexpectedly on Tuesday afternoon?" The Coroner made a -motion of assent. - -"I had reached the city earlier in the day, and had meant to catch the -five o'clock train to Bar Harbor. As I had several errands to do, I -sent my maid ahead to the Grand Central Depot with orders to engage a -stateroom and check my luggage. I forgot to notice how the time was -passing till I caught sight of a clock in Madison Square pointing to -eight minutes to five. I jumped into a hansom, but got to the station -just in time to see the train steam away, with my maid hanging -distractedly out of a window." She paused a moment. "A gentleman -happened to be with me," she continued with downcast eyes, "so we -consulted together as to what I had better do. On looking up the trains -I found that I could not get back to my mother's country place till nine -o'clock that evening, and then should have to leave home again at a -frightfully early hour so as to catch the morning train to Bar Harbor. -Otherwise I should be obliged to wait over till the following afternoon -and take a long night journey by myself, which I knew my mother would -not wish me to do. Altogether, it seemed so much simpler to remain in -town if I could only find a place to go to. Suddenly, our apartment -occurred to me. Of course, I knew that the world would not approve of my -staying here alone; nevertheless, I decided to do so." - -"You went out again very soon after your arrival, did you not?" asked -the Coroner. - -"Yes," she answered, "as there was no way of getting any food here, -my friend" (she hesitated slightly over the last word) "had little -difficulty in persuading me to dine with him at a quiet restaurant in -the neighbourhood." - -"Did the gentleman return to the Rosemere after dinner?" - -"Yes." - -"And did he leave you then?" - -Miss Derwent hesitated a moment, then, throwing her head back she -answered proudly: "No!" But a deep crimson again suffused her cheek, and -she added almost apologetically: "It was all so unconventional that I -did not see why I should draw the line at his spending the evening with -me. He was a very intimate friend." - -"Why do you use the past tense?" asked Mr. Merritt. She cast a little -frightened glance in his direction, evidently startled at being caught -up so quickly: "We--we had a very serious disagreement," she murmured. - -"Was the disagreement so serious as to put an end to your friendship?" -inquired the detective. - -"Yes," she replied curtly, while an angry light came into her eyes. - -"At what time did the gentleman leave you?" resumed the Coroner. - -"It was very late;--after eleven, I think." - -"And you have not seen him again since then?" - -"Certainly not," she replied. - -"Why did you not carry out your first intention of leaving the city on -the following morning?" - -The girl appeared slightly embarrassed as she answered: "I did not feel -like paying visits just at the moment, and besides I had not enough -money to carry me as far as Bar Harbor. My maid had most of my money, -and I was no longer willing to borrow from my visitor, as I had intended -doing." - -"Excuse my questioning you still further," said the Coroner, with a -glance of admiration at the beautiful girl, who was fretting under the -examination, "but, why, then, didn't you return to your home?" - -"I did not wish to do so." Then, catching Mr. Merritt's eye, she added: -"I had been a good deal upset by--by what had occurred the night before -and felt the need of a day to myself. Besides, I had some shopping to -do, and thought this a good opportunity to do it. I am going home this -morning." - -"Thank you, Miss Derwent," exclaimed the Coroner, heartily; "your -explanations are perfectly satisfactory. Only you have forgotten to tell -us the gentleman's name." - -"Why need you know his name?" she demanded, passionately, "you will soon -find out who this unknown man is. There must be hundreds of people in -this city who knew him. Why should I tell you the name of my visitor? I -refuse to do so." - -"Miss Derwent is quite right," interposed the detective, with unexpected -decision; "once convinced that the dead man and her friend are not -identical, and the latter's name ceases to be of any importance to us." - -"Quite so, quite so," the Coroner rather grudgingly assented. - -"Can I go now?" she inquired. - -"Certainly," said the Coroner, cordially. "Good-day, Miss." - -I was just going to offer myself as an escort when Mr. Merritt stepped -quietly forward, and possessed himself of the young lady's bag. With a -distant bow, that included impartially the Coroner and myself, Miss -Derwent left the room. - -"Remember Mrs. Atkins," the detective murmured as he prepared to follow -her. I nodded a curt assent. My brain was in a whirl. What was I to -believe? This beautiful, queenlike creature seemed incapable of deceit, -and yet--who were the two people I had so lately seen in her apartment? -Why had no mention been made of them? No matter; I felt my belief in the -young girl's innocence and goodness rise superior to mere facts, and -then and there vowed to become her champion should she ever need one, -which I very much feared she might. I was vaguely annoyed that the -detective should have insisted on escorting her. Had he a motive for -this, I wondered, or had he simply succumbed to her fascination, like -the rest of us? At any rate, I didn't like it, and I rang Mrs. Atkins's -bell in considerable ill humour. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -MRS. ATKINS HOLDS SOMETHING BACK - - -"Is Mrs. Atkins ready?" I inquired of the pretty maid. Before she -had time to answer, I heard the frou-frou of silk skirts advancing -rapidly towards me. The perfume I had already noticed grew still more -overpowering, and the lady herself appeared. And an exceedingly pretty -little woman she proved to to be, too, with golden hair and cheeks that -rivalled the roses. Her large blue eyes were as innocent and, it would -be hypercritical to add, as expressionless as her sisters' of the -toy-shop. A white muslin garment, slashed in every direction to admit of -bands and frills of lace, enveloped her small person, and yards of blue -ribbon floated around her. Her tiny, dimpled fingers were covered with -glittering rings, which, however, scarcely outshone her small pink -nails. She beamed coquettishly at me, showing some very pretty, sharp -little teeth as she did so, and I found myself smiling back at her, -completely forgetting the tragic errand I had come on. - -"Oh, Doctor," she cried, in a high treble voice, "isn't it dreadful! -They tell me that a poor man has been killed in the building, and I am -so terrified at having to look at him! Must I really do so?" She wrung -her hands in graceful distress. - -"I'm afraid you must," I replied, smiling down at her. - -"But you will go with me, won't you?" she begged. - -"Certainly, dear Madam, and if your servants are also ready we had -better get it over immediately." - -As the lady crossed the threshold of her apartment she tucked her hand -confidingly into my arm, as if the support of the nearest man were her -indisputable right, and, followed by the two servants, we proceeded -in this fashion down-stairs. Mr. Merritt met us on the landing, and, -signing to the two girls to wait outside, ushered us into the room where -the body lay. - -As Mrs. Atkins caught sight of the dead man a great shudder shook her -whole body, and I felt the hand on my arm grow suddenly rigid. She -neither screamed nor fainted, but stood strangely still, as if turned to -stone, her eyes riveted on the corpse in a horrified stare. - -"Mrs. Atkins?" inquired the Coroner. - -She seemed incapable of answering him. - -"Mrs. Atkins," he repeated, a little louder, "do you recognise the -deceased?" - -This time she moved slightly and tried to moisten her grey lips. At -last, with a visible effort, she slowly raised her eyes and glanced -about her with fear. - -"No, no," she murmured, in a hollow voice. - -"Mrs. Atkins, I must request you to look at the dead man again," the -detective said, fixing his eyes on her. "One of the elevator boys has -identified the body as that of a gentleman who called on you on Tuesday -evening." - -She raised her arm as if to ward off a blow, and moved slightly away -from me. - -"I don't know the man," she said. - -"You deny that he called on you on Tuesday evening?" - -"I do," she answered, in a steady voice. - -I saw that she was rapidly recovering her self-control, and I made up my -mind that I had misjudged the little woman. Under that soft, childish -exterior must lie an indomitable will. - -"Do you deny that you received a man on that evening?" She glanced -hastily at each of us before answering: "No." - -"Oh, you did see a gentleman? Who was he?" - -She hesitated a moment: "An old friend." - -"Will you kindly tell us his name?" - -"No! I won't have him mixed up in this." - -"Madam," said the detective, "the deceased has been murdered, and--" A -shriek interrupted him. - -"Murdered! Oh, no, no," she gasped, her eyes wide with terror. - -"I regret to say that there is no doubt of it." - -"But when,--how?" she demanded, in a trembling voice. - -"On Tuesday night." - -She drew a deep breath. The horror faded slowly from her face, and -she repeated with great composure, "Oh, Tuesday night," with a slight -emphasis on the Tuesday. - -The change in her was perfectly startling. She seemed calm,--almost -indifferent. - -"Have you discovered how he was murdered?" she inquired. - -"Yes; he was stabbed through the heart by an instrument no larger than a -knitting-needle." - -"How strange," she exclaimed; "do you know who committed the crime?" - -"Not yet," said the Coroner; "and now, Mrs. Atkins, I ask you again if -you are quite sure that you have never seen the deceased before?" - -"Yes," she answered, firmly. - -"And you are willing to testify to this effect?" - -"Yes." - -"You are aware that the elevator boy has positively identified the body -as that of your visitor?" - -"I guess my word's as good as a nigger's," she said, with a defiant toss -of her head. - -"No doubt," replied the Coroner, politely; "but if you would tell us -the name and address of your friend we could look him up and be able -to assure the police of his safety, and so save you the disagreeable -necessity of appearing in court." - -"In court," she repeated, with a horrified expression. Evidently this -possibility had not occurred to her, and she glanced hurriedly around as -if contemplating immediate flight. - -"Mrs. Atkins," said the detective, earnestly, "I do not think that you -realise certain facts. A man has been murdered who has been identified, -rightly or wrongly, with your visitor. Now, no one saw your friend leave -the building, and it is our business to ascertain that he did so. Can -you tell us what became of him?" - -A hunted expression came into her eyes, but she answered in a steady -voice: "My friend left me at a little after eleven; he was going to take -the midnight train to Boston." She paused. "His name is Allan -Brown--there, now!" - -"Thank you, madam, and what is Mr. Brown's address in Boston?" - -"I don't know." - -"What was his address in New York?" - -"I'm sure I don't know." - -"Was he in any business?" - -"I don't know," she answered, sullenly, with a glance at the door. - -"Mrs. Atkins, you seem singularly ignorant about your friend,--your old -friend." - -"Well, I hadn't seen him for some years. He's a stranger in the city." - -"Where is his home?" - -"I don't know," she answered, impatiently. - -"Are you a New Yorker, Mrs. Atkins?" inquired the detective. - -"No." - -"Ah, I thought not! And where do you come from?" - -"Chicago." - -"Chicago? Indeed! I've been there some myself," Mr. Merritt continued, -in a conversational tone. "Nice place. How long is it since you left -there?" - -"Six months," she answered, curtly. - -"So it was in Chicago you knew your friend?" - -"Yes," she admitted, with a slight start. - -"And you are sure he didn't belong there?" - -"Yes; but look here: why are you asking such a lot of questions about -him? I've told you his name and where he's gone to, and if you can't -find him that's your lookout." - -"The consequences of our not being able to find him would be much more -serious for you than for me," remarked Mr. Merritt, quietly. - -"Now, Mrs. Atkins," resumed the Coroner, "can you say in what particular -Mr. Brown differs from this dead man?" - -"Oh, they're a good deal alike," she replied, fluently,--but I noticed -that she did not look in the direction of the corpse,--"only Mr. Brown's -younger, and not so heavy, and his nose is different. Still, the man -does resemble Mr. Brown surprisingly. It gave me quite a shock when I -first saw him." It certainly had, only I wondered if that were the true -explanation. - -"Please tell us what you did yesterday." - -"I went out in the morning and I came home at about half-past five." - -"What were you doing during all that time?" - -"Oh, several things; I called on some friends and did some errands." - -"Your husband has been out of town, I hear?" - -"Yes." - -"When did he leave the city?" - -"On Tuesday morning." - -"When did he return?" - -"Last night." - -"At what time?" - -"Half-past one." - -"Where did he come from?" - -"Boston." - -"But surely the Boston train gets in a good deal earlier than that!" the -Coroner exclaimed. - -"Yes, there had been a delay owing to a slight accident on the line," -she reluctantly explained. - -"Is Mr. Atkins often away?" - -"Yes; he's out of town every week or so, on business." - -"Thank you, Mrs. Atkins, that is all," the Coroner concluded, politely. -But the lady was not so easily appeased, and flounced out of the room -without deigning to glance at any of us. - -The detective slipped out after her--to call the maids, as he explained, -but it was five or six minutes before he returned with the waitress. - -After answering several unimportant questions, the girl was asked -whether she had ever seen the deceased before. "No, sir," she replied, -promptly. - -"Did anyone call on your mistress on Tuesday evening?" - -"I can't say, sir; I was out." - -"At what time did you go out?" - -"At about a quarter to eight, sir." - -"Where did you go to?" - -"We went to a party at me sister's." - -"Who do you mean by 'we'?" - -"The cook and me, sir." - -"Ah, the cook went out, too?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Do you usually go out together?" - -"No, sir." - -"How did it happen that you did so on Tuesday?" - -"Mr. Atkins, he was away, so Mrs. Atkins she said we might both go out." - -"Mr. Atkins is often away from home, isn't he?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"How often?" - -"About once a fortnight, sir." - -"Has Mrs. Atkins ever allowed you both to go out together before?" - -"No, sir." - -"Where does your sister live, and what is her name?" - -"Mrs. Moriarty, 300 Third Avenue." - -The Coroner paused to scribble down the address, then resumed: - -"At what time did you get back from the party?" - -The girl tugged at her dress in some embarrassment. "It might have been -after eleven," she reluctantly admitted. - -"How much after--quarter past, half-past?" he suggested, as she still -hesitated. - -"It was almost half-past, sir." - -"And when you returned, did you see your mistress?" - -"Oh, yes, sir." - -"Was she alone?" - -"Yes, sir," the girl answered, with some surprise. - -"Did you notice anything unusual about her?" - -"Well, sir, she'd been crying, and I never see her cry before." - -"What did Mrs. Atkins say to you?" - -"She scolded us for being so late," the girl answered shamefacedly. - -"Was that all she said?" - -"Yes, sir." - -"Where was your mistress when you saw her?" - -"She was lying on the sofy in her bed-room, tired like." - -"What did Mrs. Atkins do yesterday?" - -"She went out after breakfast and didn't come back till nearly six." - -"How did she seem when she returned?" - -"She'd been crying awful, and she just lay quiet and wouldn't eat no -dinner." - -"Do Mr. and Mrs. Atkins get along well together?" - -"Oh, sir, they're that loving," she answered with a blush and a smile. - -Again my curiosity got the better of my discretion, and I asked: "Did -you hear any strange noises during the night?" - -The Coroner glared at me, but said nothing this time. - -"Well," replied the girl, "me and Jane did think as we'd heard a -scream." - -Ha, ha, thought I, and I saw Mr. Merritt indulge in one of his quiet -smiles. - -"So you heard a scream," said the Coroner. - -"I don't know for sure; I thought so." - -"At what time did you hear it?" - -"I don't know, sir; some time in the night." - -"What did you do when you heard it?" - -"Nothing, sir." - -This was all that could be got out of her, so she made way for the cook, -who, after being cross-questioned at some length, did no more than -corroborate the waitress's statement, only she was more positive of -having heard the "screech" as she called it. - -"Could you tell whether it was a man or woman who screamed?" inquired -the Coroner. - -"It was a woman's voice, sir." - -Mr. Stuart, who was next admitted, proved to be a small, middle-aged -man, extremely well groomed, and whom I recognized as one of the members -of my Club, whose name I had never known. On being asked if he had -ever seen the dead man before, he solemnly inserted a single eye-glass -into his right eye, and contemplated the corpse with the greatest -imperturbability. - -"So far as I can remember, I have never seen the man before," he -answered at last. After replying satisfactorily to a few more questions, -he was allowed to retire, and his cook took his place. She was a large, -stout woman about thirty years old, with a good deal of that coarse -Southern beauty, which consists chiefly in snapping black eyes, masses -of dark hair, and good teeth. On catching sight of the corpse, she threw -up her hands and uttered a succession of squeals, which she seemed to -consider due to the horror of the occasion, and then turned serenely -towards the Coroner, and with a slight courtesy stood smilingly awaiting -his questions. - -"What is your name?" he inquired. - -"Jeanne Alexandrine Argot," she replied. - -"You are in the employ of Mr. Stuart?" - -"Yes, sar. I 'ave been with Mr. Stuah, six a years, and he tell you----" - -"Please look at the deceased, and tell me if you have ever seen him -before?" the Coroner hastily interrupted. - -"No, sar." - -After answering a few more questions with overpowering volubility, she -withdrew, and her husband entered. He was a tall, vigorous man, with -large hawk-like eyes, apparently a good deal older than his wife. He -bowed to us all on entering, and stood respectfully near the door, -waiting to be spoken to. - -"What is your name?" inquired the Coroner. - -"Celestin Marie Argot." - -"You work for Mr. Stuart?" - -"Yes, sar; I am Meester Stuah's butlair." - -"Look at this corpse, and tell me if you can identify it as that of any -one you know, or have ever seen?" - -He now glanced for the first time at the body, and I thought I saw his -face contract slightly. But the expression was so fleeting that I could -not be sure of it, and when he raised his head a few moments later he -seemed perfectly composed and answered calmly: "I do not know ze man." - -Apparently the Coroner was not completely satisfied, for he went on: -"You know that this man has been murdered, and that it is your duty to -give us any information that might lead to his identification. Have -you seen any suspicious persons about the building during the last few -days?" - -"No, sar; nobody,"--but I thought he had hesitated an instant before -answering. - -"You must see a good many people pass up and down the back stairs," -the detective remarked; "especially in this hot weather, when you must -be obliged to leave the kitchen door open a good deal so as to get a -draught." - -The man cast a hurried, and I thought an apprehensive, glance at Mr. -Merritt, and replied quickly: "Yes, sar; ze door is open almos' all ze -time, but I 'ave seen nobody." - -"Nobody?" repeated the detective. - -"Yes, sar," Argot asserted, still more emphatically. "No vone, excep' ze -butchair, ze bakair, and ze ozer tradesmen, of course." - -"How early are you likely to open the kitchen door? To leave it open, I -mean?" - -"Oh, not till eight o'clock, perhap--Madame Argot, she stay in -déshabille till zen." - -"What time do you go to bed?" - -"At ten o'clock generally, but some time eleven o'clock--even -midnight--it depens." - -"What time did you go to bed on Tuesday?" - -"At eleven, sar." - -"What had you been doing during the evening?" - -"I had been at a restaurant wiz some friends." - -"And when did you return?" - -"At about half-pas' ten." - -"Did you come in the back way?" - -"Yes, sar." - -"How did you get in?" - -"My wife, she open ze door." - -"And you saw nobody as you came in?" - -He paused almost imperceptibly. "No, sar," he answered. But I was now -convinced that he was holding something back. - -"Very well; you can go," said the Coroner. The fellow bowed himself out -with a good deal of quiet dignity. - -"I kinder fancy that man knows something he won't tell," said the -Coroner. "Now, we've seen every one but the workmen," he continued, -wearily, mopping his forehead. "I don't believe one of them knows a -thing; still, I've got to go through with it, I suppose," and going to -the door he beckoned them all in. - -There were five of them, including the foreman, and they appeared to be -quiet, respectable young men. After looking at the dead man intently for -some minutes, they all asserted that they had never laid eyes on him -before. - -"Now have any of you noticed during the three days you have been working -here anybody who might have taken the key, kept it for some hours, and -returned it without your noticing it?" inquired the Coroner. - -"We've seen no strangers," the foreman replied, cautiously. - -"Who have you seen?" The foreman was evidently prepared for this -question. - -"Well, sir, we've seen altogether six people: Jim, and Joe, and Tony, -Mr. McGorry, Miss Derwent, and the Frinchman," he replied, checking -them off on his fingers. - -"When did the Frenchman come up here?" - -"Yistidy morning, sir; he said he come to see the decorations, and he -come again about three; but he didn't stay long. I warn't a-going to -have him hanging round here interfering!" - -"Did any of his actions at the time strike you as suspicious?" - -"No, sir," acknowledged the foreman. - -"And Miss Derwent; when did you see her?" - -"I didn't see her myself in the morning, but he"--with a nod towards one -of the men,--"he saw her look in as she was waiting for the elevator, -and in the afternoon she come right in." - -"Did she say anything?" - -"Yes, sir; she said the paint and papers were mighty pretty." - -"When you saw Miss Derwent," said the Coroner, addressing the man whom -the foreman had pointed out, "what was she doing?" - -"She was standing just inside the hall." - -"Was her hand on the door knob?" - -"I didn't notice, sir." - -"Did the young lady say anything?" - -"When she saw me a-looking at her, she just said: 'How pretty!' and went -away." - -"Have any of you seen Mr. or Mrs. Atkins, or either of their girls, -since you have been working here?" They all replied in the negative. - -The Coroner's physician turned up at this juncture, with many apologies -for his late arrival, so, having no further excuse for remaining, I took -my leave. The lower hall swarmed with innumerable reporters, trying to -force their way upstairs, and who were only prevented from doing so by -the infuriated McGorry and two or three stalwart policemen. On catching -sight of me they all fell upon me with one accord, and I only managed to -escape by giving them the most detailed description of the corpse and -professing complete ignorance as to everything else. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -A LETTER AND ITS ANSWER - - -When I got back to my diggings I was astonished to find that it was only -ten o'clock. How little time it takes to change the whole world for one! -All day long I forced myself to go about my usual work, but the thought -of May Derwent never left me. - -It was the greatest relief to find that in none of the evening papers -did her name appear. How McGorry managed to conceal from the reporters -the fact that she had been in the building remains a mystery to this -day--but how thankful I was that he was able to do so! Already my -greatest preoccupation was to preserve her fair name from the least -breath of scandal. Not for an instant did I believe her to be connected -with the murder;--on the other hand, I felt equally sure that she was in -some great trouble, the nature of which I could not even guess. I longed -to protect and help her, but how was I to do so, ignorant as I was -of everything concerning her. I didn't even know where she was at -that moment. At her mother's, perhaps. But where was that? Suddenly I -remembered that my great friend, Fred Cowper, had mentioned in one of -his recent letters that Mrs. Derwent and his mother were near neighbours -in the country. To think that that lucky dog had been spending the last -month within a stone's throw, perhaps, of her house--had seen her every -day probably, and had been allowed these inestimable privileges -simply because he had broken an old leg! And I, who would gladly have -sacrificed both legs to have been in his place, was forced to remain in -New York because--forsooth!--of an apoplectic old patient--who refused -either to live or die! Well, as I couldn't go to her, it was at any rate -a comfort to be able to get news of her so easily--so seizing a pen, I -hastily scratched off the following note: - - NEW YORK, - August 10, 1898. - - DEAR FRED: - - You know me pretty well and know therefore that I'm not a prying - sort of fellow--don't you? So that when I ask you to tell me all - you know about Miss May Derwent--I hope you will believe that I am - animated by no idle curiosity. A doctor is often forced to carry - more secrets than a family solicitor, and is as much in honor - bound. Through no fault of my own, I have come into the possession - of certain facts relating to Miss Derwent which lead me to believe - that she is in great trouble. Furthermore, I am convinced that I - could help her, were I not handicapped by my very slight personal - acquaintance with her, but more than that by my entire ignorance - regarding certain details of her life. I might as well acknowledge - that I am interested in the young lady, and am anxious to serve - her if I can. But if I am to do so, I must first find out a few - particulars of her life, and these I hope you can give me. - - In the first place I want to know whether she has any young male - relative who is tall, with good figure? I remember hearing that she - is an only child, but has she no cousin with whom she is on terms - of brotherly intimacy? - - Secondly, Is she engaged, or reported to be engaged, and if so, to - whom? - - Thirdly, What are the names of her most favored suitors? - - Fourthly, What lady does she know intimately who has very dark - hair, and is also slight and tall? - - I don't need to tell you to treat this letter as absolutely - confidential, nor to assure you again that only the deepest - interest in Miss Derwent, and the conviction that she is in need - of help, induce me to pry into her affairs. - - More than this I cannot tell you, so don't ask me. - - Good-night, old chap! Hope your leg is getting on all right. - - Affectionately yours, - CHARLES K. FORTESCUE. - - - HOPE FARM, BEVERLEY, L. I., - Friday, August 11. - - DEAR CHARLEY,--You may imagine how exciting I found your letter - when I tell you that I have known May Derwent since she was a tiny - tot, and that their country place is not half a mile from here. She - is exactly my sister Alice's age, and I have never known her very - well till she came out last winter, for eight years make a big - barrier between children. I like and admire May extremely, for not - only is she a very beautiful girl, but an extremely nice one, as - well. Difficult as it may be to explain certain things, I am sure - that, whatever the trouble she is in, if you knew the whole - truth, you would find it only redounded to her credit. She is an - impulsive, warm-hearted and rather tempestuous child--generous, - loyal, and truthful to a fault. I have just been discreetly - sounding Alice about her, and asked why I had not seen May since I - had been down here this time, as on former occasions she used - always to be running in and out of the house. And Alice tells me - that for the last three months May has been a changed being. From a - happy, thoughtless girl, overflowing with health and spirits, she - has become a listless, self-contained, almost morose woman. She - refuses to go anywhere, and spends most of her time either in her - own room or taking long solitary walks or rides. The doctor talks - of nervous prostration, but do you think it likely that a vigorous, - athletic young girl would develop nerves solely in consequence of a - few months' gaiety during the winter? It seems to me incredible, - and so I am forced to believe that May has something on her mind - which is reacting on her body, causing her to shun all the things - she used to delight in. Now, when a young, rich, beautiful, and - sought-after girl suddenly takes to avoiding her species, and - becomes pale and melancholy, the usual explanation is--an unhappy - love affair. And, of course, that may still turn out to be the - truth in this case; but in the meantime I have another hypothesis - to suggest, that seems to me to fit in with the known facts even - better than the other. - - May Derwent is not an only child, but has, or at any rate had, a - brother about ten years older than herself who, I confess, was one - of the heroes of my childhood. Only a little older than the rest of - us boys, he was much bigger and stronger. He was the leader of all - our games, and the instigator of our most outrageous exploits. He - was the horror of all parents and the delight of all children. - Cruel, vindictive, untruthful, leaving others to pay the penalty - for his faults whenever it was possible, he was not a nice boy even - in those early days, but then he was so handsome, so bold and - unscrupulous, so inspired in devising new crimes for us to commit, - that it is hardly to be wondered at that he was at the same time - our terror and our idol. His school record was bad; his college - record was worse, till one fine day he suddenly and mysteriously - disappeared from Harvard, and has never been heard of since. What - had occurred I never could find out; that it was something very - disgraceful I am sure, for his mother, whose pride and hope he had - been, never again mentioned his name. - - Now, don't you think it quite possible that he may have returned - and been bothering his sister in some way? She may be either trying - to shield him from still greater disgrace, or be endeavouring to - spare her mother the further knowledge of his misdeeds. Mind you, - these are all merely the wildest conjectures. - - As for May's lovers, their name is simply legion, including young - Norman, the millionaire, Sir Arthur Trevor, Guy Weatherby and a - painter chap--Greywood, I think his name is. Mère Derwent, I - believe, favors Norman's suit, having (sensible woman!) a great - faith in American husbands, but there is a rumour that May, with - the perversity of her sex, is inclined to smile on the young - artist, who, I am told is an affected chap, just back from Paris, - without either money or talent. But no doubt he strikes her as - a more romantic lover than good old Norman, who is the best of - fellows, and absolutely eligible in every way. - - Alice tells me that May has appeared quite eager for her Bar Harbor - visit, notwithstanding that she has refused all other invitations, - and Mrs. Derwent has had great hopes that the change would do her - good. - - What you have told me is no small tax on my discretion, but what - you have refrained from telling taxes my curiosity far more. But - notice--I ask no questions!! - - By the way, why don't you come down and spend next Sunday with us? - You might see the lovely May again,--who knows? - - Affectionately yours, - FRED. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -MR. MERRITT INSTRUCTS ME - - -Fred's letter was a great relief to me. I had not dared to allow my -thoughts to dwell on the man whom I had seen in May Derwent's apartment -on that eventful night. The supposition, however, that it was her -brother, explained everything satisfactorily. Nothing could be more -likely than that this angel of mercy should give shelter to this -returned prodigal, and try to save him from the punishment he so richly -deserved. But what cared I what _he_ had done? She--she--was immaculate. - -At the hospital that morning, I was in such good spirits that I had some -difficulty in keeping my elation within bounds. As it was, I noticed -that several nurses eyed me with suspicion. - -My preoccupation about Miss Derwent's affairs had been so great -that I had hardly given a thought to the mysterious murder, and was -consequently very much surprised, on returning home that afternoon, to -find the detective patiently awaiting me. - -"Well, Mr. Merritt," I exclaimed; "glad to see you; what can I do for -you? Anything wrong with your heart, or your liver, or your nerves, eh?" - -"Well, Doctor, I guess my nerves are pretty near all right," he -answered, with a slow smile. - -"I'm glad to hear it. Won't you sit down?" - -He selected a comfortable chair, and we sat down facing each other. I -wondered what could be coming next. - -"Now, Doctor," he began, in a matter-of-fact voice, "I'd like you to -tell me all you know of the murder." - -He had taken me completely by surprise, but I am learning to control my -features, and flatter myself that I did not move a muscle as I quietly -replied: - -"This is a very strange question, and I can only answer that I know -nothing." - -"Oh, hardly as little as that," the detective rejoined, with irritating -complacency. - -"Just as little as that," I asserted, with some warmth. - -"Well, Doctor, if that is the case, you can no doubt explain a few -things that have been puzzling me. In the first place, will you tell me -why, if you were not expecting another victim, you showed such surprise -at the sight of the corpse? What reason could you have had for being -so deeply interested in the relative positions of your roof--not your -office, mind you, but your roof--and the room in which the body was -found, unless you had noticed something unusual from that point of -observation? Why were you so sure that the Derwent's flat was occupied, -if you had not seen some person or persons there? By the way, I noticed -that from your roof I could look directly into their windows. Again, you -betrayed great surprise when Miss Derwent lifted her veil. Why did you -do so, except that you had previously seen a very different looking -person in her apartment? And why did you select the Atkins's two -servants out of all the people in the building, to question about a -certain noise, but that you yourself had heard a scream coming from -their premises? And, lastly, you showed an unexplained interest in the -back door of the Rosemere, which is particularly suggestive in view of -the fact that this window is exactly opposite to it. I need only add -that your presence on the roof during some part of Wednesday night, -or early Thursday morning, is attested by the fact that I found some -pipe-ash near the chimney. You smoke a pipe, I see" (pointing to -a rack full of them); "your janitor does not, neither do your two -fellow-lodgers. Besides that, all the other occupants of this house are -willing to swear that they have not been on the roof recently, and those -ashes could not have been long where I found them; the wind would have -scattered them. You see, I know very little, but I know enough to be -sure that you know more." - -I was perfectly dumbfounded, and gazed at the detective for some moments -without speaking. - -"Well, granted that I was on the roof during a part of Wednesday night, -what of it? And if I did hear or see anything suspicious, how can you -prove it, and above all, how can you make me tell you of it?" - -"I can't," rejoined Mr. Merritt, cheerfully. "I can only ask you to do -so." - -"And if I refuse?" - -"Then I shall have to delay satisfying my curiosity till we meet in -court, but I do not doubt that my patience will then be adequately -rewarded, for a skilful lawyer will surely be able to get at many -details that would escape me, and I hardly think that you would resort -to perjury to shield two women whom I am convinced you never laid eyes -on before yesterday, and have certainly not seen since." The detective -paused. - -I still hesitated, for I felt an extreme reluctance to further -compromise that poor girl by anything I might say. - -"Come, Doctor," he urged, leaning forward and placing his hand on my -knee, "don't you think it would be better for all parties for you to -tell me what you know? I am as anxious to shield the innocent as you -can be. By withholding valuable information you may force me to put a -young lady through a very trying and public ordeal, which I am sure -might be easily spared her, if I only knew a few more facts of the -case." - -This last argument decided me, and making a virtue of necessity I -gave him a minute account of all I had seen and heard. When I came to -describing the man's prolonged search Mr. Merritt nodded several times -with great satisfaction. - -"Can't you tell me a little more how this man looked?" he eagerly -inquired. "You must have seen him pretty clearly while he was moving -around that lighted room. Had he any hair on his face?" - -"Well," I confessed, "it is a funny thing, but I can't for the life of -me remember; I've tried to; sometimes I think he was clean shaven, and -again I am sure he had a small moustache." - -The detective glared at me for a moment; it was difficult for him to -forgive such aggravating lack of memory. To be given such an opportunity -and to foozel it! He heaved a sigh of resignation as he inquired: - -"Can you remember how he was dressed?" - -"Oh, yes," I replied with alacrity, anxious to retrieve myself, "he had -on a white shirt and dark trousers, and his sleeves were rolled back." - -"Did he close the windows before he left?" - -"Yes, and he pulled down the blinds also." - -"You are sure that you saw no one in the apartment resembling Miss -Derwent?" - -"Quite sure; the woman I saw was taller and had flat, black hair." - -"What do you mean by 'flat'?" - -"Why, nowadays girls wear their hair loose; it bulges away from their -faces; but hers lay tight to her head in a flat, black mass," I -explained. - -I then harped on the probability of the return of Miss May's prodigal -brother, and suggested the possibility that the dark-haired woman might -be his wife. - -"Well, well, Doctor! This is all very interesting. The story of the -brother, especially. You see, I had already discovered that a man had -spent many hours in her apartment----" - -"How did you find that out?" I interrupted. - -"Oh, quite easily," rejoined the detective; "as soon as all the -excitement was over yesterday, I made McGorry open the Derwent's -apartments for me. You may imagine what a fuss he made about it. Well -anyhow he got me----" - -"But why did you want to get in?" I inquired; "did you suspect her?" - -"No," he replied, "I did not. But in my profession you take no chances. -Impressions, intuitions, are often of great value, only you must be -careful always to verify them. I was almost sure that the young lady was -innocent, but it was my business to prove her so. Now, it is certain -that the person, or persons, who smuggled the corpse into the room where -it was found, must, at one time or another, have had the key of that -apartment in their possession, and there are only three people whom we -know of as yet who were in a position to have had it. These three are: -Miss Derwent, the French butler, and, of course, McGorry. So far I have -not been able to connect the latter two, even in the most indirect way, -with the catastrophe. Unfortunately, that is not the case with the young -lady. One person, at least, has identified the body as that of her -visitor, and your behaviour," he added, with a smile, "led me to believe -that you suspected her of something. Not of the crime, I felt sure of -that, but of _what_, then? I determined to find out, and now that I have -done so, let me tell you that I am still convinced of her innocence." - -I jumped up and shook him by the hand. "So am I, so am I," I exclaimed. - -"But this is a very queer case," he continued, "and I shall need all the -assistance you can give me, if----" - -"You shall have it," I broke in, enthusiastically; "anything I can do. -But tell me, first, how you found out about Miss Derwent's brother?" - -"Not so fast, young man! At present, we know nothing about a brother. I -only said that I had discovered in the apartment traces of the recent -and prolonged presence of a man, and I may add of a man of some means." - -"How did you find that out? Especially about his means?" I inquired, -with a smile. - -"Quite easily. In the parlor, which was the first room I entered, I -noticed that every piece of furniture had been lately moved from its -place. Now, this was too heavy a job for a girl to have undertaken -single-handed. Who helped her, I wondered? Her visitor of Tuesday -evening might have been the person, but for various reasons I was -inclined to doubt it. I thought it more likely to have been the woman -whose existence your behaviour had led me to infer. I next examined the -dining-room. A few crumbs showed that it had been used, but I could find -no traces of her mysterious companion. The library had not even been -entered. On the floor above, the front bedroom alone showed signs of -recent occupation. Two crumpled sheets were still on the bed, and in the -drawers were several articles of woman's apparel. Returning to the lower -floor by the back stairs, I found myself in the kitchen. Here, in the -most unexpected place, I discovered an important clue." Mr. Merritt -paused, and looked at me with a gleam of triumph in his eye. - -"Yes, yes, and what was that?" I inquired, breathlessly. - -"Only the odor, the very faintest ghost of an odor, I may say, of -cigar-smoke." - -"In the kitchen?" I exclaimed, incredulously. - -"In the kitchen," repeated the detective. "I at once drew up the blinds, -and looked out. The window opened directly on the fire escape, with -nothing opposite but the roofs of some low houses. Pulling out my -magnifying glass, I crawled out. I soon satisfied myself that the stairs -leading up and down had not been recently used; on the other hand, I was -equally sure that someone had very lately been out on the small landing. -So I sat down there and looked about me. I could see nothing. At last, -by peering through the bars of the iron flooring, I thought I could -discern a small brown object, caught in between the slats of the landing -below. I climbed down there mighty quick, I can tell you, and in a -moment held the butt end of a cigar in my hand. It was, as I had -suspected, from the delicate odor it had left behind, one which had cost -about fifty cents. I now extended my search downward, and examined every -window-sill, every crevice, till I reached the basement, and, as a -result of my hunt, I collected five cigar stumps, all of the same -brand. From the number, I concluded that whoever had been in the -apartment had been there a considerable time. From his only smoking in -the kitchen or on the fire-escape, I gathered that he was anxious to -leave no traces of his presence; and lastly, from the quality of his -cigars, I judged him to be a man of means. So you see I had discovered, -even without your assistance, that, although Miss Derwent may have told -us the truth, she certainly had not told us all of it." - -I nodded gloomily. - -"What you tell me of this dark-haired woman is still more puzzling," the -detective continued. "She has covered up her tracks so well that not -only did I find no trace of her, but no one, not even yourself, saw her -either enter or leave the building. And I should never have dreamed -of her existence if I had not noticed your surprise when Miss Derwent -lifted her veil. Now, the first thing to be done is to try and find -this strange couple, and we will begin by tracing the man whom you saw -leaving the Rosemere with a market-basket. It will be easy enough to -find out if he is nothing but a local tradesman, and if he is _not_, -then in all probability he is the man we want. The detective who is -watching Miss Derwent----" - -"A detective watching Miss Derwent!" I exclaimed. - -"Why, yes. What did you expect? I sent one down with her to the country -yesterday." - -Perhaps I ought to have been prepared for it, but the idea of a common -fellow dogging May Derwent's footsteps, was quite a shock to me, so I -inquired, with considerable ill-humor: "And what does he report?" - -"Nothing much. The young lady returned to her mother, as she said she -would, and since then has kept to her room, but has refused to see a -doctor." - -"Have you discovered yet who the dead man really is?" I asked, after a -slight pause. - -"No," answered the detective, with a troubled look, "and I can't make it -out. Jim and Joe each persists in his own identification. I expected Jim -to weaken, he seemed so much less positive at first, but whether he has -talked himself into the belief that the corpse is that of the young -lady's visitor, or whether it really does resemble him so much as to -give the boy grounds for thinking so, I can't make out." - -"I see, however, that _you_ believe the murdered man to be Mrs. Atkins's -friend, of whose history and whereabouts she was so strangely ignorant." - -"Well, I don't know," the detective replied. "We have found out that an -Allan Brown did engage a berth on the midnight train to Boston." - -"Really? Why, I was sure that Allan Brown was a creation of the little -lady's imagination. By the way, it is a strange coincidence that two -mysterious Allans are connected with this case." - -"Yes, I have thought of that," the detective murmured; "and Allan is -no common name, either. But it is a still stranger circumstance that -neither of Allan Brown nor of the murdered man (I am now taking for -granted that they are not identical) can we discover the slightest trace -beyond the solitary fact that an upper berth on the Boston train was -bought on Tuesday afternoon, by a person giving the former's name, and -whose description applies, of course, equally to both. Mrs. Atkins -volunteers the information that Brown was a stranger in the city, and so -far I have no reason to doubt it. Now, a man who can afford to wear a -dress suit, and who is a friend of a woman like Mrs. Atkins, presumably -had fairly decent quarters while he was in town. And yet inquiries have -been made at every hotel and boarding-house, from the cheapest to the -most expensive, and not one of them knows anything of an Allan Brown, -nor do they recognize his description as applying to any of their late -guests. The deceased, of course, may have had rooms somewhere, or a -flat, or even a house, in which case it will take longer to trace him; -although even so, it is remarkable that after such wide publicity has -been given to his description, no one has come forward and reported -him as missing. The morgue has been crowded with idle sightseers, but -nobody as yet claims to have seen the victim before." - -"That is queer," I assented, "especially as the dead man was in all -probability a person of some prominence. He certainly must have been -rich. The pearl studs he wore were very fine." - -"Oh, those were imitation pearls," said the detective, "and I am -inclined to think that, far from being wealthy, he was, at the time of -his death, extremely badly off, although other indications point to his -having seen better days." - -"Really!" I exclaimed. - -"Yes; didn't you notice that his clothes, although evidently expensive, -were all decidedly shabby? That his silk socks were almost worn out; -that his pumps were down at the heel?" - -"Yes, I did notice something of the kind." - -"But those large imitation pearls blinded you to everything else, I -see," Mr. Merritt remarked, with a smile. - -"I suppose so," I acknowledged; "they and the sleeve-links with the -crest." - -"Ah, those are really interesting, and for the first time in my life I -find myself wishing that we were more careful in this country about the -use of such things. Unfortunately, we are so promiscuous and casual in -adopting any coat-of-arms that happens to strike our fancy that the -links become almost valueless as a clue. Still, I have sent one of them -to an authority in heraldry, and shall be much interested to hear what -he has to say about it. By the way, did anything else strike you as -peculiar about the corpse?" - -"No," I answered, after a moment's reflection. - -"It did not seem to you odd that no hat was found with the body?" - -"Dear me! I never noticed that. How singular! What could have become of -it?" - -"Ah, if we only knew that we should be in a fair way to solving this -mystery. For I have found out that, whereas the description of Miss -Derwent's visitor and Mrs. Atkins's friend tally on all other points, -they differ radically on this one. The former wore a panama, whereas -the latter wore an ordinary straw hat. Now, one of those hats must be -somewhere in the Rosemere, and yet I can't find it." - -"Mr. Merritt," I inquired, "have you any theory as to the motive of this -murder?" - -"Not as yet," he replied. "It may have been jealousy, revenge, or -a desire to be rid of a dangerous enemy, and if you had not given -it as your opinion that the man met his death while wholly or -semi-unconscious, I should have added self-defence to my list of -possibilities. The only thing I am pretty sure of is--that the motive -was not robbery." - -"Look here, Mr. Merritt, I can't help wondering that, whereas you have -treated Miss Derwent with the utmost suspicion, have made a thorough -search of her apartment, and have even sent a sleuth to watch her, yet -you have shown such indifference to Mrs. Atkins's movements. Surely -suspicion points quite as strongly to her as to the young lady?" - -"No, it doesn't," replied the detective. "The key! You forget the key -cannot so far be connected with her. But, may I ask, who told you that I -had neglected to make inquiries about the lady?" - -"Nobody; I only inferred," I stammered. - -"You were wrong," continued Mr. Merritt. "I have made every possible -inquiry about Mrs. Atkins. I have even sent a man to Chicago to find out -further particulars, although I have already collected a good deal of -interesting information about the little lady's past life." - -"Really? And was there anything peculiar about it?" - -"No; I can't exactly say there was. Mrs. Atkins is the only daughter of -a wealthy saloon-keeper, John Day by name, and is twenty-six years old. -Nothing is known against her except that in that city she chose her -companions from amongst a very fast crowd. There is also a rumor, which -the Chicago detective has not been able to verify, that when she was -about sixteen or seventeen years old, she eloped with an Eastern man, -from whom she was almost immediately divorced. At any rate, she has been -known for a good many years as Miss Day, and has lived at home with her -father. The memory of her marriage, if indeed she ever was married, has -grown so dim that a great many people, among whom may be numbered some -of her intimate friends, have never heard of it, and vehemently deny the -whole story. I hope, however, soon to find out the facts of the case. -Young Atkins met his wife last winter at Atlantic City, and at once fell -in love with her. His father, who is a very wealthy contractor, was -strongly opposed to the match. He was very ambitious for his son, and -thought the daughter of a saloon-keeper, whose reputation was none of -the best, was no desirable wife for his boy." - -"But they married in spite of him," I said. - -"Yes, and old man Atkins has become reconciled to them, and makes them a -very handsome allowance." - -"How long have they been married?" I asked. - -"Since the fifteenth of April," replied the detective, "and they were -not married in Chicago, but in this city. I guess the lady was not over -anxious to introduce her husband to her former pals." - -"I suppose you have searched her apartment for a possible clue,--the -hat, for instance?" - -"Yes, but as she has not been out since Wednesday, I have not been able -to make as thorough a search as I should like. She is a shy bird, and I -don't want to frighten her till I have a few more facts to go on. If she -thinks herself watched she may become wary, while now, I hope she will -make use of her fancied security to do something which may give us a -lead." - -"Well, Mr. Merritt, I conclude from all this that, although you are -unable to trace the possession of the key to Mrs. Atkins, nevertheless, -your suspicions point towards her?" - -"Certainly not. There is nothing to connect her with the tragedy, except -the fact that one negro boy identified the corpse as that of one of her -visitors. On the contrary, the more I look into this case, the less do I -see how the lady could be involved in it. Let us suppose that she did -kill the man. Where could she have secreted him during the twenty-four -hours that must have elapsed before the body was finally disposed of? -The only place of concealment on the lower floor of her apartment is a -coat closet under the stairs, and I doubt very much whether a small, -unmuscular woman like Mrs. Atkins is capable of dragging so large a man -even for a short distance." - -"But," I suggested, "the murder may have been committed in the hall, -just a step from this hiding-place." - -"Yes, that is, of course, possible. But there is still another -objection. The closet is so small that I do not believe a man could -be got into it without doubling him up, and of that the body shows no -signs. Besides, if Mrs. Atkins is guilty, we must believe her husband to -be her accomplice, for who else could have helped her hide her victim? -Now, you must know that the Atkins men, both father and son, bear -most excellent reputations, especially the young man, of whom every -one speaks in the highest terms, and I do not think that a person -unaccustomed to deceit could have behaved with such perfect composure -in the presence of a corpse of which he had criminal knowledge." - -"But he did show some emotion," I urged. - -"Oh, yes; I know what you mean,--when he learned that the man was -murdered on Tuesday night he seemed startled." - -"Well, how do you account for that?" - -"I don't account for it. Why, Doctor, in a case like this there are a -hundred things I can't account for. For instance, what was the cause of -Mrs. Atkins's scream? You have no idea; neither have I. Why did she show -such emotion at the sight of the corpse? I am not prepared to say. Why -did she appear so relieved when she heard that the murder occurred on -Tuesday? I can formulate no plausible explanation for it. And these are -only a few of the rocks that I am running up against all the time." - -"But look here. If you really believe Miss Derwent and Mrs. Atkins both -innocent, who do you think killed the man?" - -"I don't know. Oh, I am aware that the detective of fiction is always -supposed to be omniscient, but my profession, Doctor, is just like any -other. There is no hocus-pocus about it. To succeed in it requires, -in the first place, accurate and most minute powers of observation, -unlimited patience, the capacity for putting two and two together. -Add to this an unprejudiced mind, and last, but not least, respect, -amounting to reverence, for any established _fact_. Now, the only -_facts_ we have as yet gathered about this murder are: that the man was -young, dissipated, and was stabbed through the heart by some very small -instrument or weapon; that his assailant was an inmate of the Rosemere; -that the crime was committed on Tuesday night; and, lastly, that whoever -placed the body where it was found must, at one time or another, have -had the key to the outside door in his or her possession. Whatever -else we may think or believe, is purely speculative. We presume, for -instance, that the man was poor. As for the other facts we have gleaned -about the different inmates of the building, till we know which one of -them had a hand in this tragedy, we cannot consider what we have learned -about them as throwing any light on the murder. About that, as I said -before, we know mighty little, and even that little is the result of -thirty-eight hours' work, not of one man alone, but of seven or eight." - -"Indeed!" I exclaimed. - -"Now, both ladies deny that they knew the deceased, and perhaps they -are right. It is, of course, possible that there was a third man in -the building that evening, who was also tall, dark, and wore a pointed -beard. It is not likely, however. Such a coincidence is almost unheard -of. Still it is possible, and that possibility must be reckoned with. -Now, I must be off," said Mr. Merritt, rising abruptly from his chair, -"and if you hear any more of the young lady's movements, let me know. -There's my address. In the meantime, thank you very much for what you -have already told me." And before I could get out one of the twenty -questions that were still burning on my lips, the man was gone. - -For some minutes I sat quite still, too miserable to think connectedly. -Alas! my fears had not been groundless. The poor girl was in even -greater trouble than I had supposed. I believed the detective to be a -decent chap, who would keep his mouth shut, but how dreadful to think -that her reputation depended on the discretion of any man. Should it -become known that she had received one young man alone in an empty -apartment, while another was seen there at three o'clock in the -morning, it would mean social death to her. Oh, for the right to offer -her my protection, my services! - -Of course, it was now absolutely necessary to trace the man who spent -Tuesday evening with her, and to prove beyond doubt that he was still -alive. I wished that this might be done without her knowledge, so as to -spare her the shock of finding herself suspected of a crime. - -Again I thought of Fred, and at once sent him a few lines, begging him -to let me know whether he or his sister knew of any friend or admirer of -Miss Derwent who resembled the enclosed description, and if either of -them did know of such a person, please to telegraph me the man's name, -and, if possible, his address. While giving no reasons for my questions, -I again enjoined the greatest secrecy. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -AN IDENTIFICATION - - -TELEGRAM. - - DR. CHARLES FORTESCUE, - Madison Avenue, - New York City. - - SATURDAY, August 12. - - Maurice Greywood. Can't find his address. May be in Directory. - - FREDERIC COWPER. - -Clipping from the New York _Bugle_, Sunday, August 13. - - LANDLADY IDENTIFIES BODY OF THE ROSEMERE VICTIM AS THAT OF HER - VANISHED LODGER, ARTIST GREYWOOD. POLICE STILL SCEPTICAL. - - Mr. Maurice Greywood, the talented young artist who returned from - Paris the beginning of last winter, has disappeared, and grave - fears for his safety are entertained. He was last seen in his - studio, 188 Washington Square, early on Tuesday, August 8th, by - Mrs. Kate Mulroy, the janitress. Ever since the young artist moved - into the building, Mrs. Mulroy has taken complete charge of his - rooms, but, owing to a disagreement which took place between them - last Tuesday, she has ceased these attentions. Yesterday evening, - while looking over a copy of the _Bugle_ of the preceding day, Mrs. - Mulroy came across the portrait of the unknown man whose murdered - body was discovered under very mysterious circumstances in an - unoccupied apartment of the Rosemere, corner of ---- Street and - Madison Avenue, on the preceding Thursday. She at once recognized - it as bearing a striking resemblance to her lodger. Thoroughly - alarmed she decided to investigate the matter. After knocking - several times at Mr. Greywood's door, without receiving an answer, - she opened it by means of a pass-key. Both the studio and bedroom - were in the greatest confusion, and from the amount of dust that - had accumulated over everything, she concluded that the premises - had not been entered for several days. Her worst fears being thus - confirmed, she hastened at once to the Morgue, and requested to see - the body of the Rosemere victim, which she immediately identified - as that of Maurice Greywood. - - Strangely enough, the police throw doubts on this identification, - although they acknowledge that they have no other clue to go on. - However, Mrs. Greywood, the young man's mother, has been sent - for, and is expected to arrive to-morrow from Maine, where she is - spending the summer. - - The people at the Rosemere are still foolishly trying to make a - mystery of the murder, and refuse all information [etc., etc.]. - - -TO DR. CHARLES K. FORTESCUE FROM DR. FREDERIC COWPER, BEVERLEY, L. I. - - SUNDAY EVENING, August 13th. - - DEAR CHARLEY: - - No sooner had I read in to-day's paper that the body found in the - Rosemere had been identified as that of Maurice Greywood, than I - knew at once why you have taken such an interest in poor May. I see - now that you have suspected from the first that the murdered man - was not unknown to her, and your last letter, describing her - "friend," proves to me beyond doubt that you were ignorant of - nothing but his name, for Greywood and no other answers exactly to - that description. How you found out what you did, I can't imagine; - but remembering that your office window commands a view of the - entrance to the building, I think it possible that you may have - seen something from that point of vantage, which enabled you to put - two and two together. But I wonder that I can feel any surprise - at your having discovered the truth, when the truth itself is - unbelievable!! May Derwent is incapable of killing any one--no - matter what provocation she may have had. She is incapable of - a dishonourable action, and above all things incapable of an - intrigue. She is purity itself. I swear it. And yet what are the - facts that confront us? A man, known to have been her professed - suitor, is found dead in a room adjoining her apartment, dead - with a wound through his heart--a wound, too, caused by a - knitting-needle or hat-pin, as you yourself testified! And before - trying to find out who killed him we must first think of some - reasonable excuse for his having been at the Rosemere at all. How - strange that he should happen to go to the building at the very - time when May (who was supposed to be on her way to Bar Harbor, - mind you!) was there also. Who was he calling on, if not on her? - - Luckily, no one as yet seems to have thought of her in connection - with Greywood's death. My sister has, in fact, been wondering all - day whom he could have been visiting when he met his tragic fate. - But, sooner or later, the truth will become known, and then--? Even - in imagination I can't face that possibility. - - And now, since you have discovered so much, and as I believe you - to be as anxious as I am to help this poor girl, I am going to - accede to your request and tell you all that I have been able to - find out about the sad affair. I know that I run the risk of - being misunderstood--even by you--and accused of unpardonable - indiscretion. But it seems to me that in a case like this no - ordinary rules hold good, and that in order to preserve a secret, - one has sometimes to violate a confidence. - - I have discovered--but I had better begin at the beginning, and - tell you as accurately and circumstantially as possible how the - following facts became known to me, so that you may be better able - to judge of their value. Truth, after all, is no marble goddess, - unchangeable, immovable, but a very chameleon taking the colour of - her surroundings. A detached sentence, for instance, may mean - a hundred things according to the when, where, and how of its - utterance. But enough of apologies--_Qui s'excuse, s'accuse._ - - So here goes. - - I spent the morning on our piazza, and as I lay there, listening to - the faint strains of familiar hymns which floated to me through the - open windows of our village church, I could not help thinking that - those peaceful sounds made a strange accompaniment to my gloomy and - distracted thoughts. I longed to see May and judge for myself how - things stood with her. I was therefore especially glad after the - service was over to see Mrs. Derwent turn in at our gate. She often - drops in on her way from church to chat a few minutes with my - mother. But I soon became convinced that the real object of her - visit to-day was to see me. Why, I could not guess. The dear lady, - usually so calm and dignified, positively fidgeted, and several - times forgot what she was saying, and remained for a minute or so - with her large eyes fastened silently upon me, till, noticing my - embarrassment, she recovered herself with a start and plunged into - a new topic of conversation. At last my mother, feeling herself _de - trop_, made some excuse, and went into the house. But even then - Mrs. Derwent did not immediately speak, but sat nervously clasping - and unclasping her long, narrow hands. - - "Fred," she said at last, "I have known you ever since you were a - little boy, and as I am in great trouble I have come to you, hoping - that you will be able to help me." - - "Dear Mrs. Derwent, you know there is nothing I would not do for - you and yours," I replied. - - "It is May that I want to speak to you about; she is really very - ill, I fear." - - "Indeed, I am sorry to hear it; what is the matter with her?" - - "I don't know. She has not been herself for some time." - - "So I hear. Do you know of any reason for her ill health?" - - "She has not been exactly ill," she explained, "only out of sorts. - Yes, I'm afraid I do know why she has changed so lately." - - "Really," I exclaimed, much interested. - - "Yes, it has all been so unfortunate," she continued. "You know how - much admiration May received last winter; she had several excellent - offers, any one of which I should have been perfectly willing to - have her accept. Naturally, I am not anxious to have her marry, at - least not yet; for when my child leaves me, what is there left for - me in life? Still, one cannot think of that, and if she had chosen - a possible person I should gladly have given my consent. But the - only one she seemed to fancy was a most objectionable young man, an - artist; _the_ Maurice Greywood, in fact, of whose supposed murder - you no doubt read in this morning's paper." - - "Yes," I admitted. - - "Well, I put my foot down on that. I told her she would break my - heart if she persisted in marrying the fellow. It was really - a shock to me to find that a daughter of mine had so little - discrimination as even to like such a person; but she is young and - romantic, and the creature is handsome, and clever in a Brummagem - way. The man is a fakir, a _poseur_! I even suspect, Fred, that his - admiration for May is not quite disinterested, and that he has a - very keen eye to her supposed bank account." - - "But May is such a lovely girl----" - - "Oh, yes. I know all about that," interrupted Mrs. Derwent, "but in - this case '_les beaux yeux de la cassette_' count for something, I - am sure. He has absolutely no means of his own, and a profession - which may keep him in gloves and cigarettes. I hear that he is - supported by his mother and friends. Think of it! No, no, I could - not bear her to marry that sort of man. But the child, for she is - little more, took my refusal much to heart, fancied herself a - martyr no doubt, and grew so pale and thin that I consulted the - doctor here about her. He suggested nervous prostration, due to too - much excitement, and wanted her to take a rest cure. I am sure, - however, that that is all nonsense. May was simply fretting herself - sick; she _wanted_ to be ill, I think, so as to punish me for my - obduracy." - - "But what, then, makes you so anxious about her now?" I inquired. - "Have any new symptoms developed?" - - "Yes," and after glancing anxiously about to see whether she could - be overheard, Mrs. Derwent continued in a lower voice. "You know - that she started to go to Bar Harbor last Tuesday." I nodded. - "Well, she seemed really looking forward to her visit, and when she - left home was very affectionate to me, and more like her old self - than she had been for months. But through some carelessness she - missed her connection in town, and instead of returning here as she - ought to have done, spent two nights in our empty apartment--of all - places!! What possessed her to do such a thing I cannot find out, - and she is at present so extremely excitable that I do not dare to - insist on an explanation. When she did return here on Thursday she - told me at once about the murder and how she was made to look at - the body and to give an account of herself. Of course, we were very - much afraid that her name would get into the papers and all the - facts of her escapade become known. Through some miracle, that at - least has been spared me; but the shock of being brought into such - close contact with a mysterious crime has proved too much for - the child's nerves, and she is in such an overwrought hysterical - condition that I am seriously alarmed about her. I wanted to send - again for Dr. Bertrand. He is not very brilliant, but I thought he - might at least give her a soothing draught. She wept bitterly, - however, at the bare idea--insisted that he only made her more - nervous. I then suggested sending for our New York physician, but - she became quite violent. Really I could hardly recognise May, she - was so----so--impossible. Of course she is ill, and I now fear - seriously so." - - Mrs. Derwent paused to wipe her eyes. - - "When you say that she is violent and impossible, what do you mean, - exactly?" - - "It is difficult to give you an idea of how she has been behaving, - Fred, but here is an instance that may show how extraordinary her - conduct has been: Her room is next to mine, and since her return - from town she has shut herself up there quite early every evening. - I know she doesn't sleep much, for I hear her moving about all - night long. When I have gone to her door, however, and asked her - what was the matter, she has answered me quite curtly, and refused - to let me in. She has not been out of the house since she came - back, but, strangely enough, I have caught her again and again - peering through the blinds of those rooms that have a view of the - road, just as if she were watching for somebody. As soon as she - sees that she is observed, she frowns and moves away. Last night I - slept very heavily, being completely worn out by all this anxiety, - and was suddenly awakened by a piercing shriek. I rushed into - May's room and found her sitting up in bed talking volubly, while - about her all the lights were blazing. 'Take him away, take him - away!' she kept repeating, and then she wailed: 'Oh, he's dead, - he's dead!' I saw at once that she was asleep and tried to rouse - her, but it was some time before I succeeded in doing so. I told - her she had been dreaming, but she showed no curiosity as to what - she might have been saying, only evincing a strong desire to be - left alone. As I was leaving the room, I noticed that the key-hole - had been carefully stopped up. I suppose she did that so as to - prevent my knowing that she kept her lights burning all night. But - why make a secret of it? That is what I can't understand! She has - had a shock, and it has probably made her afraid of the dark, which - she has never been before, and perhaps she looks upon it as a - weakness to be ashamed of. Another unfortunate thing occurred this - morning. May has lately been breakfasting in bed, but, as ill-luck - would have it, to-day she got down-stairs before I did, and was - already looking over the newspaper when I came into the room. - Suddenly she started up, her eyes wild with terror, and then with a - low cry fell fainting to the floor. - - "Snatching up the paper to see what could have caused her such - agitation, I was horrified to read that the man who was found - murdered in our apartment house was now supposed to be Maurice - Greywood. Imagine my feelings! As soon as she had recovered - sufficiently to be questioned, I begged her to confide in me--her - mother. But she assured me that she had told me everything, and - that the man who had been killed was a perfect stranger to her and - not Mr. Greywood. She insists that the two do not even look very - much alike, as the deceased is much larger, coarser, and darker - than the young artist. It was, of course, the greatest relief to - know this. Had Greywood really been at the Rosemere on the evening - she spent there, I should always have believed that they had met by - appointment. 'Yes, I should; I know I should,' she repeated, as I - shook my head in dissent. - - "When I was ready to go to church, I was astonished to find May - waiting for me in the hall. She was perfectly composed, but a - crimson spot burned in either cheek and her eyes were unnaturally - bright. I noticed, also, that she had taken great pains with her - appearance, and had put on one of her prettiest dresses. I could - not account in any way for the change in her behaviour. As we - neared the village, she almost took my breath away by begging me - to telegraph to Mr. Norman to ask him to come and stay with us! - 'Telegraph him now!' I exclaimed. 'Yes,' she replied; 'I would like - to see him. If we telegraph immediately, he could get here by five - o'clock.' 'But why this hurry?' I asked. She flushed angrily, - and kept repeating: 'I want to see him.' 'But, my child,' I - remonstrated, 'I don't even know where Mr. Norman is. He certainly - is not in town at this time of the year.' 'Telegraph to his town - address, anyhow, and if he isn't there it doesn't matter,' she - urged.--'But, May, what is the meaning of this change? The last - time he came down here you wouldn't even see him. Do you now mean - to encourage him?' 'No, no,' she asserted. 'Then I shall certainly - not send him such a crazy message,' I said. 'If you don't, I will,' - she insisted. We were now opposite the post office. She stopped and - I saw that she was trembling, and that her eyes were full of tears. - 'My darling,' I begged her, 'tell me the meaning of all this?' 'I - wish to see Mr. Norman,' is all she would say. Now, I suppose you - will think me very weak, but I sent that telegram. Fred, tell me, - do you think the child is going insane?" and the poor mother burst - into tears. - - "Dear, dear lady, I am sure you are unnecessarily alarmed. If I - could see May, I could judge better." - - "Yes, yes," she interrupted, eagerly, "that is what I wish. I - thought if you came to the house as a visitor you could give me - your professional opinion about May without her knowing anything - about it. The difficulty is, how can you get to us with your poor - leg?" - - "Nothing easier," I assured her. "I can hobble about now on - crutches, and with a little help can get in and out of a carriage; - so I will drive over to you immediately after lunch." - - "Won't you come now and lunch with us?" - - "No; at lunch we should all three have to be together, and I would - rather see your daughter by herself." - - "Very well, then," said Mrs. Derwent, and gathering up the folds of - her soft silk gown she left me. - - Early this afternoon I drove over to their place, and found both - ladies sitting on the piazza. May greeted me very sweetly, but I at - once noticed the peculiar tension of her manner, the feverish - glitter of her eyes, the slight trembling of her lips, and did - not wonder at her mother's anxiety. After a little desultory - conversation, Mrs. Derwent left us alone. I doubt if the girl was - even aware of her departure, or of the long pause which I allowed - to follow it. - - "May, Dr. Fortescue, whom you have read about in connection with - the Rosemere tragedy, is a great friend of mine." She stared at me - with horror. I felt a perfect brute, but as I believed it was for - her good I persisted: "I think he saw you when you were in town." - She staggered to her feet; I caught her to prevent her falling, and - laid her gently on a divan. "Lie still," I commanded, looking - her steadily in the eye. "Lie still, I tell you; you are in no - condition to get up. Now, listen to me, May; I know you have had a - shock, and your nerves are consequently thoroughly unstrung. Now, - do you wish to be seriously ill, or do you not?" My quiet tones - seemed to calm her. "Of course I don't want to be ill," she - murmured. "Then you must not go on as you have been doing lately. - Will you let your old playfellow doctor you a little? Will you - promise to take some medicine I am going to send you? I must tell - you that, unless you will do what I say, you will be delirious in a - few hours." I thought that argument would fetch her. - - "Yes, yes," she exclaimed. "What shall I do?" and she put her hand - to her head and gazed about her helplessly. - - "In the first place, you must go to bed immediately." - - "I can't do that; Mr. Norman will be here in a few hours." - - "Well, I can't help it. To bed you must go, and from what I hear of - that young man he will be as anxious as anybody to have you do what - is best for you." - - "But--" she objected.--"There is no 'but.' Unless you at once do as - I tell you, you will be down with brain fever." - - "Very well, then," she meekly replied; "I will go to bed." - - "That's a good girl. You must get a long night's rest, and if you - are better in the morning I will let you see your friend. He'll - wait, you know; I don't believe he will be in any hurry to leave, - do you?" But she only frowned at my attempt at jocularity. I rang - the bell and asked the butler to call Mrs. Derwent, to whom I gave - full directions as to what I wanted done, and had the satisfaction - of seeing May go up-stairs with her mother. I waited till the - latter came down again, and then told her as gently as possible - that her daughter was on the verge of brain fever, but that I hoped - her excellent constitution might still save her from a severe - illness. - - The next question was, what to do with Norman. - - May's positive belief that he was coming had proved contagious, and - I found that we were both expecting him. I thought it would be best - for me to meet him at the train, tell him of May's sudden illness - and offer to put him up at our place for the night. Mrs. Derwent, - after some hesitation, agreed to this plan. Norman turned up, as I - knew he would. He is very quiet, and does not appear surprised - either at his sudden invitation or at May's illness. He also seems - to think it quite natural that he should stay in the neighbourhood - till she is able to see him. He looks far from well himself, and is - evidently worried to death about May. He has been out all the - evening, and I suspect him of having been prowling around the - Beloved's house. - - Now tell me--what do you think is the meaning of all this? Is the - body Maurice Greywood's, or is it not? If it is he--who killed him - and why? If she--but I'll not believe it unless I also believe her - to have had a sudden attack of acute mania--and that, of course, - is possible, especially when we consider what a highly nervous - state she is still in. - - But if the dead man was really a stranger to her, as she asserts, - why then does every mention of the murder cause her to become so - excited? Why does she appear to be for ever watching for somebody? - Why did she cry out in her sleep: "Oh, he's dead, he's dead!"? - Again, the only reasonable explanation seems to be that her mind - has become slightly unhinged. And if that is the case, what rôle - does Norman play in this tragedy, and why did she insist on his - being sent for? Above all, why does he consider it natural that she - should have done so? - - Now, knowing all this, can you advise me as to what I ought to do - to help the poor girl? - - I hear Norman coming in, so must end abruptly, although I have a - lot more to say. - - Affectionately yours, - FRED. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -I INSTRUCT MR. MERRITT. - - -While these things had been happening in the country, my Sunday in town -had been almost equally eventful. - -I had not been surprised on receiving Fred's telegram the evening before -to find that the name it contained was that of the young artist. Had he -not already told me that Greywood was supposed to have been the favoured -suitor? And, knowing May Derwent as I did, I had felt sure from the very -first that she must have entertained the liveliest feelings of trust and -liking--to say the least--for the man whom she permitted to visit her on -that Tuesday evening. That the cur had not known enough to respect the -privilege filled me with mingled feelings of rage and delight. Had he -not offended my divinity there would have been no chance for me, and yet -that he had dared to do so made me long to punish him. - -But to do this I must first find him. His name did not appear either in -the Social Register or the Directory, but I thought that by visiting the -various studio buildings dotted over the city I should eventually find -the one in which he lived. - -So I got up bright and early the following morning, determined to begin -my search at once. As I sat down to my breakfast with a hopeful heart -and an excellent appetite, I little thought what a bomb-shell was -contained in the papers lying so innocently beside my plate. - -I had hardly read the terrible news before I was out of the house and -on my way to Merritt's. Luckily, I found the detective at home, calmly -eating his breakfast. He showed no signs of surprise at my early -appearance, and invited me to share his meal with simple courtesy. As -I had hurried off without stopping to eat anything, I thought that I -had better do so, although I grudged the time spent in such a trifling -pursuit, while so much hung in the balance and every minute might be -precious. - -"Well, Mr. Merritt," I exclaimed, "what is this fairytale about -Greywood? I see from the papers that your people do not put much faith -in the identification." - -"We do, and we don't," he answered, "but it is not proved yet, and, -while there is still some doubt about it, I thought it as well for the -gentlemen of the press to be kept guessing a little longer." - -"But what do _you_ think? Surely, you do not believe the murdered man to -be Greywood?" I urged. - -"Doctor, I'm afraid I do." - -"You do?" I cried. - -"Yes." - -"But when I saw you, on Friday, you were equally sure of Miss Derwent's -innocence." - -"Ah! that was Friday! Besides, I have not said that I believe the young -lady guilty; I merely say that I believe Maurice Greywood, and not Allan -Brown, to be the name of the victim." - -"But, then, you must think that she killed him," I insisted. - -"Not necessarily. Have you never thought of the possibility that Allan -Derwent (for we will assume that he was the man whom you saw in her -apartment) might be the murderer?" - -"No," I confessed, "that had not occurred to me." - -"But it ought to have, for of all the theories we have as yet -entertained, this one is by far the most probable. You see," he -continued, "you allow your judgment to be warped by your unwillingness -to associate the young lady, even indirectly, with a crime." - -"Perhaps so," I acknowledged. - -"Now, I must tell you that, however innocent Miss Derwent may eventually -prove to be, since my last talk with you I have become convinced that -the murder was committed in her parlour, and nowhere else." Mr. Merritt -spoke very earnestly, leaning across the table to watch the effect on me -of what he was saying. - -"Ah," I exclaimed angrily, "then you deceived me----" - -"Gently, gently, young man; I don't deceive anybody. I told you that I -wished the young lady well; so I do--that I believed in her innocence; -I still do so. I said that the information I had received from you -materially helped her case, which it most assuredly did. Had you -withheld certain facts it would have been my duty--my painful duty, I -acknowledge--to have arrested Miss Derwent last Saturday." - -"But why?" I inquired. - -"Because all the evidence pointed towards her, and because my belief in -her innocence rested on no more solid foundation than what is called -intuition, and intuition is a quicksand to build upon." - -"But what was there to point to her except that a negro boy thought that -the dead man resembled Greywood?" - -"Ah, you acknowledge that her visitor was Mr. Greywood?" - -"Yes, I grant you that, but what of it? I am convinced he has not been -murdered." - -"But why?" demanded the detective. "Now, listen to this. The body is -identified by two people as Greywood's. Greywood disappears at about -the same time that the crime was committed. We know that the corpse must -have been hidden somewhere in the Rosemere for twenty-four hours. Where -could it have been more easily secreted than in the Derwents' apartment, -into which no outsider or servant entered? And lastly, it would have -required two people to carry, even for a short distance, a body of its -size and weight; but as the young lady was not alone, but had with her -the man and woman whom you saw, this difficulty is also disposed of. -From all this, I conclude that the Derwents' flat was the scene of the -tragedy." - -"But why should Greywood have been killed?" I asked. "What possible -motive could there have been?" - -"Oh, it is easy enough to imagine motives, although I do not guarantee -having hit on the right one. But what do you think of this for a guess? -Miss Derwent, who knows that her brother may any day be in need of a -hiding-place, has given him the key to their back door. Coming to town, -she meets Greywood, dines with him, and invites him to spend the evening -with her (having some reason for supposing that her brother is safely -out of the way). During this visit they have a violent quarrel, and, in -the midst of it, young Derwent, who has come in through the kitchen, -suddenly appears. Let us also presume that he is intoxicated. He -discovers his sister alone with a man, who is unknown to him, and with -whom she is engaged in a bitter dispute. The instinct to protect her -rises within him. His eyes fall on a weapon, lying, let us suppose, -on the parlour table. He seizes it, and in his drunken rage, staggers -across the room and plunges it into Greywood's heart. What girl could be -placed in a more terrible position? She is naturally forced to shield -her brother. So she hits on a plan for diverting suspicion from him, -which would have been successful, if Fate had not intervened in the most -extraordinary way. You remember, that it came out that on Wednesday she -went in and out of the building very frequently. During one of these -many comings and goings, she manages to extract the key of the vacant -apartment, to have it copied, and to return it without its absence being -noticed. They then wait till the early hours of the morning before -venturing to move the body, which they carry to the place where it was -found. Unfortunately for them, they locked the dead man in, and in this -way rendered their detection much more easy. For it limited the number -of suspected persons to three--to the three people, in fact, who -could have had the key in their possession, even for a short time. -On returning to their own rooms, they discover that they have lost -something of great importance. The young man searches for it long and -vigorously. He does not find it----" - -"How do you know he didn't find it?" I interrupted. - -"Because _I_ found it," asserted the detective triumphantly. - -"Indeed! And what was it?" - -"The handle--or, to be more accurate, the head--of the fatal weapon." - -"Really!" I exclaimed; "you found it? Where?" - -"It had fallen in between the dead man's trousers and the folds of his -shirt." - -"It must be pretty small, then." - -"It is. Look at it," and he laid on the table a jewelled dagger-hilt -about an inch and a half long. - -"That!" I exclaimed contemptuously; "why, that is nothing but a toy." - -"Not a toy," replied Mr. Merritt, "but an ornament. A useful ornament; -for it is the head of one of those jewelled hat-pins that have been so -fashionable of late. A dagger with the hilt encrusted with precious -stones is quite a common design." - -"Did you find the pin itself?" I asked. - -"No, I did not," the detective answered regretfully. - -"How do you account for the handle being where you found it?" - -"I think that in all probability the pin was removed from the body -immediately after it had done its work, and in doing so the head was -wrenched off. During the excitement which followed no one noticed where -it fell, and its loss was not discovered till the victim had been -disposed of. Young Derwent evidently expected the place to be searched, -which accounts for the care with which he tried to remove all traces of -his presence, and his extreme anxiety to find this, which, he feared, if -discovered on the premises, might prove a sure clue. Now, that theory -hangs together pretty well, don't it?" wound up the detective. - -Without answering him, I inquired: "And what do you mean to do now?" - -"I'm afraid I shall have to arrest Miss Derwent, as we can find no trace -of her two companions. By the way, it is as you supposed;--the man you -saw leaving the building was no tradesman, so he is probably the person -we want. I have, therefore, given his description to the police, and -hope soon to have some news of him." - -"So, Mr. Merritt, you would really arrest a girl on such flimsy -evidence, and for a crime you do not believe her to have committed?" I -inquired indignantly. - -"As for the evidence, I think it is fairly complete," answered the -detective, "and I would not arrest Miss Derwent if I were not convinced -that she is implicated in this affair, and think that this is the surest -way of getting hold of the precious couple. I can't allow a criminal to -slip through my fingers for sentimental reasons, and every hour's delay -renders their escape more possible. The girl may be innocent,--I believe -she is; but that one of that trio is guilty I am perfectly sure." - -"Are you, really?" I exclaimed. "Well, I am not, and, if you will listen -to me for a few minutes, I think I can easily prove to you that you are -wrong. For since Friday I, too, have thought of a new and interesting -point in connection with this case." The detective looked indulgently at -me. - -"You seem to forget," I continued, "and of this fact I am quite certain, -that the victim met his death while wholly or partly unconscious." - -Merritt gave a slight start, and his face fell. - -"The autopsy must have been made by this time. Did not the doctor find -traces of alcohol or a drug?" I demanded. - -"Yes," admitted the detective, "alcohol was found in large quantities." - -"Now, Greywood had been dining quietly with a lady, and it is -inconceivable that he could have been drunk, or that, being in that -condition, she should not have noticed it, which she could not have -done--otherwise she would certainly not have allowed him to go up-stairs -with her." - -"That is a good point," said the detective. - -"Besides, the corpse bears every indication of prolonged dissipation. -Now, no one has hinted that Greywood drank." - -"No, but he may have done so, for all that," said Mr. Merritt. - -"He could not have done so to the extent of leaving such traces after -death without its being widely known," I asserted. "The dead man must -have been an habitual drunkard, remember, and that the young artist -certainly was not. No, if you persist in believing the murdered man -to be Greywood, you must also believe that Miss Derwent lured him to -her rooms, while he was so intoxicated as to be almost, if not quite -helpless, and there, either killed him herself or allowed her brother to -kill him. In the latter case, do you not think a lady's hat-pin rather a -feeble weapon for a young desperado to select? And that that description -can be applied to Allan Derwent, everything I have heard of him tends to -show. - -"On the other hand, let us consider for a moment the probability of the -body being Allan Brown's. What do we find? When last seen he was already -noticeably intoxicated, and what is there more likely than that the -daughter of a saloon-keeper should have no scruples about offering him -the means of becoming still more so? And please notice another thing. -You told me yourself that Mrs. Atkins had spent the greater part of her -life among a very fast lot--so that it is perfectly natural to find a -man of the deceased's habits among her familiar associates. But what -is more unlikely than that a girl brought up as Miss Derwent has been -should go so much out of her way as to choose such a man for her friend? -And then, again, remember how the two women behaved when confronted with -the corpse. - -"Miss Derwent walked calmly in and deliberately lifted her heavy veil, -which could easily have hidden from us whatever emotions she may have -felt. Lifts it, I say, before looking at the body. Does that look like -guilt? And what does Mrs. Atkins do? She shows the greatest horror and -agitation. Now, mind you, I do not infer from this that she killed the -man, but I do say that it proves that the man was no stranger to her. -And now I come to the hat-pin. You assume, because you find a certain -thing, and I saw a search carried on, that the man was looking for the -object you found. What reason have you for believing this, except that -it fits in very prettily with your theory of the crime? None. You cannot -trace the possession of such an ornament to Miss Derwent, can you?" The -detective shook his head. "Ah! I thought not. And even if you did, what -would it prove? You say yourself that the design is not an uncommon -one." - -"No, but it certainly would be considered a very remarkable coincidence, -and one that would tell heavily against her," the detective replied. - -"Yes, I suppose so; but we needn't cross that bridge till we come to it. -As yet, you know nothing as to the ownership of the pin. But I want to -call your attention to another point. If two people have identified the -body as the young artist, so have two others recognised it as that of -Allan Brown, and I assert that the two former are not as worthy of -credence as the two latter." - -"How so," inquired Mr. Merritt. - -"In the first place, Jim was much less positive as to the supposed -identity of the deceased than Joe was. You admit that; consequently, I -consider Joe's word in this case better than Jim's, and Mrs. Atkins is -certainly a more reliable witness than Mrs. Mulroy, an Irish charwoman, -with all her national love of a sensational story." - -"That is all very fine," said Mr. Merritt, "but Mrs. Atkins emphatically -denied knowing the deceased." - -"In words, yes; but don't you think this is one of the cases where -actions speak louder than words? By the way, I gather from your still -being willing to discuss the corpse's identity that you have not been -able to trace this mysterious Brown?" - -"You are right. The only thing we have found out is, that the berth on -the Boston train which was bought in his name was never occupied." - -"And yet, in the face of all this, you still think of arresting Miss -Derwent; of blighting a girl's life in such a wanton manner?" - -"Doctor, you're right; I may have been hasty. Mrs. Greywood, the young -man's mother, arrives to-morrow, and her testimony will be decisive. -Should the body not be that of her son (and you have almost convinced me -that it is not), then Miss Derwent's affairs are of no further interest -to me, and who she may, or may not, entertain in her apartment it is not -my business to inquire." - -After a little more desultory talk, I left him to his morning paper. -I was now more than ever determined to do a little work in his line -myself, and felt quite sure that talent of a superior order lay dormant -within me. Only the great difficulty was to know where to begin. I must -get nearer the scene of the tragedy, I concluded; I must cultivate -McGorry and be able to prowl around the Rosemere undisturbed. What a -triumph if I should discover the missing hat, for instance! - -All this time I was sauntering idly up-town, and as I did so I fell in -with a stream of people coming from the Roman Catholic Cathedral. -Walking among them, I noticed a woman coming rapidly towards me, who -smiled at me encouragingly, even from quite a distance. Her face seemed -strangely familiar, although I was unable to place her. Where had I seen -those flashing black eyes before? Ah! I had it,--Mme. Argot. She was -alone, and as she came nearer I saw she not only recognised me, but that -she was intending to stop and speak to me. I was considerably surprised, -but slowed down also, and we were just opposite to each other when her -husband suddenly stepped to her side. A moment before I could have sworn -he was not in sight. It was quite uncanny. His wife started and glanced -fearfully at him, then tossing her head defiantly she swept past me with -a beaming bow. He took off his hat most respectfully, and his long -sallow face remained as expressionless as a mask. But I was sure that -his piercing black eyes looked at me with secret hostility. The whole -incident only occupied a minute, but it left a deep impression upon me, -and started me off on an entirely new train of thought. What had the -detective said? The guilty person must have been able to procure, for -some time, however short, the key to the vacant apartment. We only knew -of three people who were in a position to have done this. Miss Derwent, -the French butler--well, why not the French butler? Those eyes looked -capable of anything. I was sure that his wife was afraid of him, for I -was certain that she had meant to stop and speak to me, and had been -prevented from doing so by his sudden appearance. But what could she -have wished to say to me? And why that gleam of hatred in her husband's -eye? I felt myself so innocent towards them both. In fact, I had not -even thought of them since the eventful Thursday, and might easily have -passed her by unnoticed if she had not been so eager to attract my -attention. Well, it would be queer if I had tumbled on the solution of -the Rosemere mystery! - -As I was now almost opposite my club, I decided to drop in there before -going in search of McGorry. There were hardly any people about, and when -I entered the reading-room I found that it contained but one other -person besides myself. The man was very intent upon his paper, but as I -approached he raised his head, and I at once recognised Mr. Stuart. The -very person, of all others, I most wanted to see. Fate was certainly in -a kindly mood to-day, and I determined it should not be my fault if I -did not make the most of the opportunity thus unexpectedly afforded -me. So when I caught his eye I bowed, and walked boldly up to him. He -answered my salutation politely, but coldly, and appeared anxious to -return to his reading; but I was too full of my purpose to be put off by -anything. I said: "Mr. Stuart, you have quite forgotten me, which is not -at all surprising, as I only met you once before, and that time was not -introduced to you." - -He smiled distantly, and looked inquiringly at me through his single -eye-glass. - -"It was last Thursday at the Rosemere," I explained. - -He appeared startled. I think the idea of my being a detective suggested -itself to him, so I continued, reassuringly: - -"My name is Fortescue, and I am a doctor. My office is _vis-à-vis_ to -your building, so, probably on account of my proximity, I was called in -to see the victim, and have naturally become much interested in this -very mysterious affair." - -"Indeed!" he remarked. - -This was not encouraging, but I persisted. - -"A very remarkable case, isn't it?" I said, trying to appear at ease. - -"A most unpleasant business," he replied curtly. - -My obstinacy was now aroused, so I drew a chair up and sat down. - -"Mr. Stuart, I hope you won't think me very impertinent if I ask you -whether you have any reason to be dissatisfied with your two servants?" - -He now looked thoroughly alarmed. - -"No; why do you ask?" - -"You probably know that the identity of the dead man has never been -established?" I continued. - -"On the contrary," interrupted Mr. Stuart, "I am just reading an account -of how it has been ascertained that the body is that of a man called -Greywood." - -"Oh," I replied airily, "that is only a bit of yellow journalism. If you -read to the end, you will find that they admit that the police place no -credence in their story. I have just been talking to Mr. Merritt about -it----" - -"Merritt, the detective, you mean?" - -"Yes," I answered. - -"Well, he must be an interesting man. I should like to see him." - -"Why, you have seen him," I said; "he was the short, clean-shaven man -who stood beside me, and afterwards followed you out." - -"Really!" he exclaimed; "I wish I had known that; I have always taken -a great interest in the man. He has cleared up some pretty mysterious -crimes." - -"I am sure he would be only too delighted to meet you. He's quite a nice -fellow, too, and terribly keen about this murder," I added, bringing the -conversation back to the point I wanted discussed. - -"Yes?" said Mr. Stuart. "Of course, I am interested in it, too; but I -confess that to have a thing like that occur in a building where one -lives is really most unpleasant. I have been pestered to death by -reporters." - -"Well, I assure you I am not one," I said, with a laugh; "but, all the -same, I should like to ask you a few questions." - -"What are they?" he cautiously inquired. - -"Do your butler and his wife get along well together?" - -"Why do you want to know?" he asked, in his turn. I told him what had -just happened. He smiled. - -"Oh, that doesn't mean anything. Celestin is insanely jealous of his -wife, whom he regards as the most fascinating of her sex, and has a -habit of watching her, I believe, so as to guard against a possible -lover." - -"Do they quarrel much?" - -"Not lately, I am glad to say. About a year ago it got so bad that I -was forced to tell them that if I heard them doing so again, I should -dismiss them both." - -"Dear me, was it as bad as that?" - -"Why, yes. One evening, when I came home, I heard shrieks coming from -the kitchen, and, on investigating, found Celestin busily engaged in -chastising his wife!" - -"Really?" - -"Yes, and the funniest thing is, that she did not seem to mind it much, -although she must have been black and blue from the beating he gave -her. It was some trouble about a cousin, I believe; but, as they -are both excellent servants, I thought it best not to inquire too -particularly into the business." - -"And have they been on amicable terms since then?" - -"Oh, yes. And, curiously enough, their behaviour to each other is -positively lover-like. Even in the old days, she would flirt and he -would beat her, and then they would bill and coo for a month. At least, -so I judged from the little I saw of them." - -I was now anxious to be off, but he seemed to have overcome his aversion -or distrust, and detained me for some time longer, discussing the -tragedy. - -When I reached the Rosemere, I found McGorry sitting in his private -office, and remarkably glad to see me. I offered him a cigar, and we -sat down to a comfortable smoke. At first, we talked of nothing but the -murder, but at last I managed to bring the conversation around to gossip -about the different people in the building. This was no easy matter, -for the fellow considered it either impolitic or disloyal to discuss -his tenants, but, luckily, when I broached the subject of the Argots, -he unbosomed himself. He assured me that they were most objectionable -people, and he couldn't see why Mr. Stuart wanted to employ Dagos, as -he called them. He told me that the woman was always having men hanging -around, and that her husband was very violent and jealous. - -"But they have stopped quarrelling, I hear." - -"Stopped, is it?" he exclaimed with fine scorn. "I suppose Mr. Stuart -told you that. Little he knows about it. They darsn't make a noise when -he's about. But Argot's been terrible to her lately. Why, they made such -a row that I had to go in there the other day and tell him if he didn't -shut up I'd complain to Mr. Stuart. He glared at me, but they've been -quieter since then. I guess she's a bad lot, and deserves what she gets, -or else she wouldn't stand it." - -"I say, McGorry, you have seen nothing of a straw hat, have you?" - -"Lord! Hasn't Mr. Merritt been bothering me to death about that hat? No, -I haven't found one." - -That was all I could get out of him. Not much, but still something. - -Returning to my office, I sat for a long time pondering over all I had -seen and heard that morning, and the longer I thought the more likely -did it seem that the corpse was that of some lover of Madame Argot's -whom her husband had killed in an attack of jealous frenzy. I had never -for a moment considered the possibility of the body being Greywood's, -and Merritt thought the objections to its being that of the vanished -Brown equally insurmountable. I was, therefore, forced to believe in -the presence on that fatal Tuesday of yet another man. That he had not -entered by the front door was certain; very well, then, he must have -come in by the back one. Of course, that there should have been three -people answering to the same description in the building at the time -when the murder occurred seemed an incredible conglomeration of -circumstances, but had not the detective himself suggested such a -possibility? The most serious objections to the supposition that Argot -had murdered the man were: first, the smallness of the wound, and, -secondly, the distance of the place where the body was found from -Stuart's apartment. The first difficulty I disposed of easily. Merritt -had failed to convince me that a hat-pin had caused the fellow's death, -and I thought it much more likely that the ornament found on the corpse -was a simple bauble which had nothing to do with the tragedy. Now, a -small stiletto--or, hold, I had it--a skewer! A skewer was a much more -likely weapon than a hat-pin, anyhow, besides being just the sort of a -thing a butler would find ready to his hand. - -The next objection was more difficult to meet, yet it did not seem -impossible that, having killed the man, Argot should, with his wife's -connivance, have secreted him in one of the closets which his master -never opened, and then (having procured a duplicate key) have carried -the body, in the wee small hours of the morning, up the three flights of -stairs, and laid it in the empty apartment. - -Thoroughly satisfied with this theory, I went off to lunch. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE MISSING HAT - - -That very evening, as I was sitting quietly in my office, trying to -divert my mind from the murder by reading, my boy came in and told me -that there was a lady in the waiting-room who wanted to see me. -There was something so peculiar about the way he imparted this very -commonplace information that my curiosity was aroused; but I refrained -from questioning him, and curtly bade him show the lady in. - -When she appeared I was no longer surprised at his manner, for a more -strange and melodramatic figure I have seldom seen, even on the stage. -The woman was tall and draped, or rather shrouded, in a long, black -cloak, and a thick black veil was drawn down over her face. Her costume, -especially considering the excessive heat, and that the clock pointed to -9.15, was alone enough to excite comment; but to a singularity in dress -she added an even greater singularity of manner. She entered the room -hesitatingly, and paused near the threshold to glance apprehensively -about her, as if fearing the presence of some hidden enemy. The woman -must be mad, I thought, as I motioned her to a chair and sat down -opposite to her. - -With a theatrical gesture, she threw back her veil, and to my -astonishment I recognised the handsome, rotund features of--Madame -Argot! She smiled, evidently enjoying my bewilderment. - -"Meestair Docteur, I no disturb you?" she inquired. - -"Certainly not, madame; what can I do for you?" - -"Ah, meestair," she whispered, looking towards the door, "I so afraid -zat my 'usban' 'e come back and fin' me gone; 'e terribly angry!" - -"Why should he be angry?" I asked. - -"He no like me to speak viz you. He no vant me to show you zis," she -answered, pointing mysteriously to her left shoulder. - -"What is it that he doesn't want me to see?" - -"I go show you," and, opening her dress, she disclosed two terrible -bruises, each as large as the palm of my hand; "and zat is not all," she -continued, and, as she turned round, I saw that a deep gash disfigured -one of her shoulder-blades. - -I was really shocked. - -"How did this happen?" I inquired. - -"Oh, I fall," she said, smiling coquettishly at me. - -"A very queer fall," I muttered. - -The wound was several days old and not serious, but, owing to neglect, -had got into a very bad condition. - -"Ah, zat is better," she exclaimed, with a sigh of relief, when I had -thoroughly cleansed the cut. I was just preparing to bandage it up, when -she stopped me. - -"No, meestair; not zat! My 'usban', 'e see zat, 'e know I come here, and -zen 'e angry. Ze vashin' and ze salve zey make me better!" - -"But look here, my good woman," I exclaimed, indignantly; "do you mean -to say that your husband is such a brute that he objects to your having -your wound dressed--a wound that you got in such a peculiar way, too?" - -Her manner changed instantly; she drew herself haughtily up, and began -buttoning up her dress. - -"My 'usban' 'e no brute; 'e verra nice man; 'e love' me verra much." - -"Really!" - -"Yes," she asserted, "'e love me much, _oh oui, je vous assure qu'il -m'adore_!" and she tossed her head and looked at me through the thick -lashes of her half-closed eyes; "'e man, you know, 'e sometime jealous," -she continued, smiling, as if his jealousy were a feather in her cap. - -"Well, Madame Argot; that cut should be looked after, and, as it is in -such a place that you cannot properly attend to it yourself, you must -come in here every day, and I will dress it for you. Your husband -cannot carry his devotion so far as to object to your covering it with a -clean piece of linen, so I advise you to do that." - -"Alla right, meestair, and zank you verra much. I come again ven I -can, ven my 'usban' 'e go out sometime," and, after carefully wrapping -herself up again, she sallied forth with infinite precautions. - -Of course, the woman is a silly fool, and eaten up with vanity, but -she had been pretty roughly handled, and that she should consider -such treatment a tribute to her charms, seemed to me perfectly -incomprehensible. - -After reading for some time longer, I decided to go to bed, and, -therefore, went into the front room to turn the lights out. Having done -so, I lingered near the window, for the temperature here was at least -several degrees cooler than the room I had just left. Although it was -still early, the street appeared to be completely deserted, not a -footfall was to be heard. As I stood there, half hidden by the curtain, -a queer muffled noise fell upon my ears. It seemed to come from outside, -and I moved nearer to the window, so as to try and discover what it -could be. As I did so, a white face, not a foot away, peered suddenly -into mine. I was so startled that I fell back a step, and before I -recovered myself the creature was gone. I rushed out into the hall, -and, unfastening the front door as quickly as I could, dashed into the -street. Not a soul was in sight! The slight delay had given the fellow a -chance to escape. Who could it have been? I wondered. A burglar, tempted -by my open window? Or Argot, perhaps? This latter supposition was much -the more alarming. What if he had seen his wife come out of my office? I -thought of the murdered man, and shuddered. Notwithstanding the heat, I -shut and bolted the window, and, as an extra precaution, also locked the -door which connected the front room with my office and bedroom. I had no -mind to be the next victim of an insane man's jealousy. All night long -I was haunted by that white face! More and more it appeared to me to -resemble Argot, till at last I determined to see Mr. Merritt and ask him -if we had not sufficient grounds to warrant the Frenchman's arrest. - -But when the morning came, things looked very different. Fred's second -letter (which I have inserted in the place where it rightly belongs in -the development of this story) arrived, and the thought of May Derwent's -illness put everything else out of my mind. I might as well confess at -once, that with me it had been a case of love at first sight, and that -from the day I saw her at the Rosemere the dearest wish of my heart was -to have her for my wife. And now she was ill and another man--a man who -also loved her--had been summoned by her to fill the place I coveted. -The consciousness of _his_ devotion would uphold her during her -illness, and his company help to while away the weary hours of -convalescence. And here was I, tied to my post, and forced to abandon -the field to another without even a struggle. For I felt it would be -little short of murder to desert my patients while the thermometer stood -high in the nineties and most of the other doctors were out of town. But -if I could not go to my lady, she should, at any rate, have something of -mine to bear her company. Rushing out to a nearby florist's I bought out -half his stock. Of course, my gift had to go to her anonymously, but, -even so, it was a comfort to me to think that, perhaps, my roses might -be chosen to brighten her sick room. At all events, they would serve to -remind her that there were other men in the world who loved her besides -the one who was with her at that moment. - -The afternoon edition of the _New York Bugle_ contained the announcement -that Mrs. Greywood had arrived in town that morning, and, on being shown -the body of the Rosemere victim, had emphatically denied that it was -that of her son. She thinks that the latter has gone off cruising, which -he has been expecting to do for some time past; and that, of course, -would explain his not having been heard from. The possibility of May -Derwent's having been, even indirectly implicated in the murder, was -thus finally disposed of. But I had been so sure, from the very first, -of the ultimate result of their investigations, that Mrs. Greywood's -statement was hardly a relief to me. Of course, I was very glad that no -detective would now have an excuse for prying into my darling's affairs. -Otherwise, I was entirely indifferent to their suspicions. - -But these various occurrences helped to obliterate the memory of the -events of the previous night, and, as I had no time to hunt up the -detective, I decided to think no more about my strange adventure. - -I was rather late in leaving the hospital that afternoon, and when I -reached home my boy told me that several patients were already waiting -for me. I hurried into my office and sat down at my desk, on which a -number of letters had accumulated. I was looking these over when I heard -the door open, and, glancing up, my eyes fell upon--Argot! I stared at -him for a moment in silence. Could this reserved and highly respectable -person be my visitor of the night before? Never, I concluded. He stood -respectfully near the door, till I motioned him to a seat. He sat -gingerly down on the very edge of the chair, and, laying his hat on my -desk, pulled out a handkerchief and mopped his forehead. I waited for -him to begin, which he seemed to find some difficulty in doing. At last -he said: - -"Meestair, I come about a verra sad zing." - -"Yes?" I inquired. - -"You 'ave seen my vife?" - -I did not answer at once; then, as I was uncertain how much he knew, I -decided that it would be safest to confine myself to a bare nod. - -"She is a verra fine woman, not?" he demanded, with visible pride. - -"Very much so," I assented. What could he be leading up to, I wondered? - -"But, helas," he continued, "she is a little--" here he touched his -forehead significantly, while he gazed at me less keenly from under his -bushy brows. - -"Really, you surprise me," was all I said. - -"She quite wild some time," he insisted. - -"Indeed?" - -"Yes; she do some strange zings; she verra good vife--sough--verra good -cook." He paused. - -"What are you telling me all this for? What do you want me to do about -it?" I inquired. - -"Eh bien, Meestair; it is because she vant to come to see you, and she -like you to be sorry, so she 'ave t'rowed herself down and 'ave 'urt -'erself. She lika ze mens too much," he added, fiercely, while a -malignant expression flitted across his face. - -It no longer seemed to me impossible that this middle-aged butler and -the apparition of the night before could be identical, and there and -then I determined that in future a pistol should repose in the top -drawer of my desk. - -"Perhaps your wife is slightly hysterical," I suggested. - -Now, for the first time, my eyes left his face, and happened to fall on -his hat, which was lying brim upwards at my elbow. My astonishment, when -I noticed that the initials A. B. were printed in large letters on the -inner band, was so great that I could hardly control myself. I looked -for the maker's name--Halstead, Chicago, I made out. Could this be the -missing hat? It seemed incredible. Argot would never dare display so -openly such a proof of his guilt! But if he were demented (which I -firmly believed him to be) would not this flaunting of his crime be one -of the things one might expect of an insane man? I had been so startled -that it was some minutes before I dared raise my eyes, fearing that -their expression would betray me. I have absolutely no idea what he was -talking about during that time, but the next sentence I caught was: "She -vill, she vill come, but you jus' say, nonsense, zat is nossing, and zen -she go." - -"Very well," I assured him, anxious to get rid of the fellow. "I quite -understand;" and, rising from my chair, I dismissed him with a nod. - -My office was still full of people, and I think that seeing those other -patients was about the most difficult thing I ever did. But at last even -that ordeal was over, and I was able to start out in search of the -detective. I had a good deal of difficulty in finding him, and, after -telephoning all over creation, at last met him accidentally, not far -from the Rosemere. I was so excited that I hailed him from a long way -off, pointing significantly the while to my hat. By Jove, you should -have seen him sprint! I had no idea those short legs of his could make -such good time. We met almost directly in front of my door. - -"What is it?" he panted. - -Without answering, I took him by the elbow and led him into the house. -He sank exhausted into one of my office chairs. - -"What's up?" he repeated. - -"Well," I began slowly, for I meant to enjoy my small triumph to the -full, "I only wanted to ask you if you have yet found the missing hat?" - -"No; have you?" - -"No; I can't say I have." His face fell perceptibly. "But I know where a -straw hat bearing the name of a Chicago hatter, and with the initials, -'A. B.,' stamped on the inside band, can be found," I added. - -"You don't say so? Where is it?" He spoke quietly, but I noticed that -his eyes glistened. - -"I don't quite know where it is at this moment, but when I last saw it, -it was on this desk." - -"On this desk, and you allowed it--" He paused, speechless with disgust. - -"Certainly, I allowed it to be taken away, if that is what you mean. -However, you can easily get it again. It is not far off. But, I assure -you, I have no intention of appearing in the character of the corpse in -another sensational tragedy." - -"Who brought it here?" demanded Mr. Merritt. - -"Well, do you think that Argot would be a likely person?" I asked. - -"Argot!" He was evidently surprised. - -"Yes, Argot." And I told him all that I had lately discovered about -the couple, and of their separate visits to me. Neither did I fail to -mention the strange apparition of the night before, which had caused me -so much uneasiness. - -He seemed much impressed, and stared gravely before him for some -minutes. - -"You are really not at all sure that the white face belonged to Argot, -are you?" - -"No," I acknowledged. - -"Well, Doctor," he continued, after a slight pause, "it's a queer thing -that, just as you have succeeded in persuading me that a hat-pin is -hardly a masculine weapon, and that, therefore, I ought to look for a -murderess, and not a murderer, you, on the other hand, should have come -to the conclusion that a man is the perpetrator of this crime." - -"Ah! but you see, Mr. Merritt, I don't believe the victim was killed by -a hat-pin. I think he was pierced through the heart by a skewer, which, -in a kitchen, Argot would have found under his hand." - -"Well, Doctor, you may be right. Live and learn, I always say. I shall -at once call on the Argots, and have a look at this hat." - -"Don't you think you had better have him arrested, first, and question -him afterwards? I am convinced he is insane, and likely to become -violent at any moment; we don't want any more murders, you know." - -"That is all very well, Doctor; but I can't have the fellow arrested -till I have something to go on. The hat you saw may not be the one we -want; or, again, Argot may have found it." - -"Well, if you insist on bearding him, let me go with you." - -"Certainly not. You are young, and--well, not uncalculated to arouse his -marital jealousy, while I," patting his portly person, "am not likely -to cause him any such anxieties. Even age and fat have their uses, -sometimes." - -"But he may try to cut your throat," I objected. - -"One of my men will be just outside, and will probably get to me before -he has quite finished me." He had risen, and stood with his hand on the -door-knob. - -"Look here, Doctor, I'd like to bet you that Argot is innocent, and that -a woman, and a mighty pretty woman, too, is the guilty party." - -"All right, Mr. Merritt; I'll take you. I bet you fifty dollars that a -man committed this crime." - -"Done!" exclaimed the detective, and, pulling out his pocket-book, he -recorded the bet with great care. He looked at me for a moment longer -with one of those quiet enigmatic smiles of his, and departed. - -I watched him cross the street and enter the back door of the Rosemere. -A moment afterwards a shabby-looking man came slouching along and -stopped just outside, apparently absorbed in watching something in the -gutter. The detective remained only a minute or so in the building, and -when he came out he gave me a slight nod, which I interpreted as a sign -that Argot was not at home. He took not the slightest notice of the -tramp, and, turning north, trotted briskly up town. - -As I watched him disappear, I wondered what made him so sure of the -Frenchman's innocence, and I tried vainly to guess who the woman could -be whom he now had in mind. Miss Derwent, I was glad to say, was out -of the question. He himself had proved to me by the most convincing -arguments that Mrs. Atkins could not be guilty. And who else was there -to suspect? For the criminal must have been an inmate of the building. -That was one of the few facts which the detective claimed was -established beyond a doubt. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -MADAME ARGOT'S MAD HUSBAND. - - -After my interview with the detective, I went out to visit some -patients, and on my way home I met young Atkins, whom I had not -seen since the preceding Thursday. Although we had met but once, he -recognised me immediately, and greeted me most cordially. I was, -however, shocked to see what havoc a short week had wrought in his -looks. His face was drawn and pale, and he appeared nervous and ill at -ease. Notwithstanding he had been walking in the opposite direction, he -at once turned back, and we sauntered towards Madison Avenue together. -Our chief topic of conversation was naturally the murder, and we both -remarked how strange it was that the identity of the victim had not yet -been established. - -"I suppose," said Atkins, "that we shall now never know who the man was, -for I hear he was buried yesterday." - -"Oh, that doesn't at all follow," I assured him; "photographs have been -taken of the corpse, and, if necessary, it can be exhumed at any time." - -Was my imagination playing me a trick, or was the young fellow really -troubled by this information? We had now reached my destination, and, as -I held out my hand to bid him good-bye, I said: "I am afraid Mrs. Atkins -must have such unpleasant associations with me that she will not care to -have me recalled to her notice; otherwise I should ask you to remember -me to her. I hope she is well, and has not suffered too much from this -prolonged heat?" - -"I fear she's not very well," he replied. "It seems to have upset her -nerves a good deal to have a murder occur in the building." - -"Yes, that is only natural. Wouldn't it be advisable to take her away -from here for a short time?" I suggested. - -"I only wish she'd go; but she's got some maggot in her head, and -refuses to stir." He paused a moment and glanced almost timidly at me. - -"Doctor," he burst out, "I wish you'd come and dine with us this -evening. It would be a real kindness. Wife and I both have the blues, -and you'd cheer us up no end." - -I was rather taken aback by his eagerness. "I'm very sorry, I can't -possibly do so to-night, for I've just promised to dine with an old -friend, who is only in town for a short time." - -"Well, if you can't come to-night, won't you come to-morrow?" he urged. - -I hesitated a moment. On the one hand I was anxious to oblige Atkins, -whom I liked, and quite curious to see his wife again, and fathom, if -possible, the cause of the change in her husband; while, on the other -hand, I felt some delicacy about invading a lady's home when I had -reason to believe that my being there would not be agreeable to her, for -I remembered that she had refused even to look at me on leaving the -coroner's presence. - -"If you are sure Mrs. Atkins would care to see me, I shall be delighted -to accept your invitation." - -"Why should she object to see you?" he demanded. - -"There is really no reason," I hastened to explain; "only as you tell me -your wife has been much upset by the murder, and is consequently rather -nervous at present, I don't wish to inflict myself on her if there is -the least danger that my company may recall that tragic occurrence too -vividly to her." - -Atkins gave me a long, penetrating look, but having apparently satisfied -himself that I had given my real reason, he said: - -"Nonsense, Doctor! Mrs. Atkins isn't as unreasonable as that. I'm sure -she'll be glad to see you. Now, remember, we shall expect you at seven -sharp to-morrow." - -"All right," I called back to him. - -I have given such a long account of this trifling incident, because for -some time afterwards I could not get the young fellow's face out of -my mind, and I kept imagining all sorts of possible, and impossible, -reasons for his changed looks. Could it be that he suspected the -murdered man to have been a friend of his wife's, and feared that she -might have some guilty knowledge of his death? - -As I realised how such a thought would torture him, I wanted to go at -once and tell him how my first grave suspicions had been confirmed, till -now I was fully convinced of Argot's guilt. But, fearing that some -injudicious word might show him that I had guessed the cause of his -anxiety, I refrained. That evening after dining quietly at the Club with -an old school-fellow I walked slowly home, down Madison Avenue, which, -with its long rows of houses, almost all of which were closed up for the -summer, presented an extremely dreary aspect. Although it was barely -nine o'clock, the streets in that part of the town were well nigh -deserted, everyone who could do so having fled from the city. The -night was extremely dark, damp and hot. As I was nearing my office, I -observed that the back door of the Rosemere was being cautiously opened, -and a woman's head, covered with a thick veil, peeped out. Madame Argot, -I thought, and so it proved. Having satisfied herself that her lord and -master was not in sight, she darted across the street, and disappeared -in my house. I hurried up, so as not to keep her waiting, and, as I -did so, I fancied I heard some one running behind me. Turning quickly -around, I detected nothing suspicious. The only person I could see was a -very fat man, whom I had passed several blocks back. Was he nearer than -he should have been? I couldn't tell. At any rate, he was still far -enough away for it to be impossible to distinguish his features, but -as I was sure that he was not Argot, I did not wait for him to come up -with me. On entering the reception room, I found Madame, still heavily -veiled, huddled up in a corner, where she thought she could not be seen -from the street. I told her to go into the office and, approaching the -window, I looked out. There was still nobody in sight except the fat -man, and he had crossed over, and was ambling quietly along on the other -side of the way. He was almost opposite now, and, after looking at him -critically, I decided that it was too improbable that the running foot -steps I had heard following me had been his. But whose were they, then? -I trusted that the murder had not affected my nerves, also. At any rate, -I decided to take the precaution of shutting and bolting the window, -and of pulling down the blind, none of which things, during this hot -weather, had I been in the habit of doing. But I did not intend to -give that white-faced apparition, to whom I attributed the mysterious -footsteps, the chance of falling upon me unaware, especially not while -Madame Argot was on the premises. - -"Well, how goes it?" I inquired, when I at last rejoined her. - -"Oh, much, much better, Meestair." - -I saw, indeed, when I examined the cut, that it was healing splendidly. - -"Meestair Docteur," she began as soon as I had settled down to dress her -wound, "'usban' 'e come 'ere zis mornin'?" - -"Yes," I assented. - -"Ana what 'e say, Meestair?" - -"Oh, I can't tell you that! Yon wouldn't like me to repeat to him all -that you say to me, would you?" - -"No; but zen, me is different; I know 'e say zat me a bad 'oman; I know, -I know!" - -"Indeed, he said nothing of the sort, and if you don't keep a little -quieter, I shall really not be able to do my work properly." - -"Oh, pardon; I vill be so good." - -"By the way," I inquired, "did Mr. Merritt call on you to-day?" - -"Ah! you means ze gentleman vat I see, ven I go ze dead man's?" - -"Yes." - -"He a big policeman, not?" she asked. - -"Well, not a very big one," I answered, with a smile, "but he does a -good deal of important work for the police." - -"Ah, yes. Important, _oui_," she nodded. "Vy 'e come see my 'usban'? Do -you know? I not know; my 'usban', 'e not know, eizer." - -"He didn't see your husband, then?" - -"No; Argot, he not in." - -"Well, I think Mr. Merritt is looking for a hat containing the initials, -A. B., and he wanted to ask your husband if he had found it, by any -chance." - -She started up quite regardless of her wound. - -"Ah, _par example, oui_! Yes, indeed," she exclaimed, vehemently. - -"Your husband has found such a hat?" - -"Yes, yes; I tell you. 'e make _une_ scenes about zat 'at!" she burst -out, angrily. - -"But why?" I asked. "Why should he make a scene about it?" - -"Ah!" she said, tossing her head coquettishly, though real annoyance -still lingered in her voice, "'e say it is ze 'at of my lover!" - -"Really? Have you a lover whose initials are A. B.?" - -"I 'ave no lover at all, Meestair! but I 'ave a cousin whose names begin -vis zose letters." - -"I see; but how did your husband happen to get his hat?" - -"I not know; Argot 'e come in von evenin'----" - -"What evening?" I interrupted. - -"Tuesday evening, las' veek--" I suppose my face betrayed my excitement, -for she stopped and asked, anxiously: "Vat is ze matter?" - -"Nothing, nothing! go on; I am merely much interested in your story. -Well, what happened on Tuesday?" - -"Vell, Meestair," she resumed, "my 'usban' 'e go out to ze restaurant -vere ze Frenchmens zey go play cards. Zen my cousin, M. Andrè Besnard, -'e come to call. My 'usban' 'e not zere, but I say, sit down; perhaps -Argot 'e come in. My cousin 'e live in Chicago; 'e never seen my -'usban'; 'e not know 'e jealous. So 'e stay, ana 'e stay, an ve talks of -France, ven ve vas chil'ren, and I forgets ze time, till I 'ears ze bell -vat my 'usban' 'e ring, ana I looks at ze clocks an I see it say eleven. -Zen I frightened. I know Argot dreadful angry if 'e fin' a man so late -vis me. So I say, go avay, quick; my 'usban' 'e jealous; 'e no believe -you my cousin. Go up ze stairs an' 'ide on ze next floor. Ven my 'usban' -'e come in, I shut ze kitchen door, and zen you can come down and go -out. All vould 'ave been vell if 'e done zis, but zat imbecile 'e peeped -over ze bannisters ven my 'usban' come in. But my 'usban' not quite sure -'e see somebody, so 'e say nossing, but ven I shut ze kitchen door 'e -sit near it an' listen, and in a few minutes I 'ears creek, creek, an' -'e 'ears it, too; an' 'e jumps up, and I jumps up, for I afraid 'e kill -my cousin; 'e look so angry. An' I puts my arms quite around 'im an' 'e -fights, but I hold on, an' 'e falls vis me, an' so I got my bruises; but -I no care, for I 'ears ze front door slam, so I knows Andrè is safe. In -a minute my 'usban' he up and rushes out, an' me too; but ven I see -Andrè is gone, I come back, but Argot 'e not come back." - -"Your husband did not come back, you say?" - -"No; 'e stay looking for Andrè----" - -"How long was it before he came in again?" - -"Ah! I not know," she exclaimed, impatiently, "'alf an hour, vone hour; -me get tired an' I go to bed. Ven Argot 'e come in 'e terribly angry; 'e -storm; 'e rage; 'e say, zat vas your lover; I say, no; zat vas nobody -I knows. But hélas, I am unfortunate, for 'e find Andrè's card vat 'e -left, for Andrè quite ze gentleman; zen, I sink, 'e have a fit; 'e swear -'e kill Andrè. But 'e not know vere Andrè is, because zere is no address -on ze cards, but I know vere 'e is, for Andrè 'e told me. So ze next -mornin' I writes to my cousin an' tell 'im my 'usban' 'e come for to -kill 'im. But Argot 'e go out every day to try an' fin' 'im. And 'e not -fin' im," she wound up, triumphantly, "because a friend of mine she tell -me zat Andrè 'ave left New York an' 'ave gone back to Chicago." - -"Did your cousin look much like the corpse?" - -"Ah, but not at all. My cousin 'e little man vid no beard, for 'e is a -vaitor." - -"And you are sure your husband did not know him by sight." - -"But certain," she asserted, vehemently. - -"And you have no idea how your husband got hold of his hat?" - -"No, Meestair, for I t'ought zat Andrè 'e took 'is 'at. An' Argot 'e say -nossing about it till vone day----" - -"What day?" I interrupted, again. - -"Oh! vat zat matter? Thursday or Friday of last veek, I sinks. Vell, I -come into the kitchen and zere is my 'usban' vis zat 'at. An' 'e glares -at me. I no understand; I say, Vat you got? Vy don't you sit down, an' -take off your at? 'e say, it is not my 'at; it 'as A. B. inside it, an' -I vill vear it till I can bring you ze 'ead of zis A. B.; zis charming -cousin whom you love so much. Yes! vait only, an' you shall have it, an' -zen you shall vatch it rot!! And you dare say nossing--nossing,--for you -be afraid ve gets 'anged for murder. But _I_ say it no murder to kill ze -lover of my vife. I say, Argot, you crazy; vere you get zat 'at? 'e say, -Never min'." - -"Aren't you afraid to stay with your husband? In one of his fits of -insane jealousy he might kill you." - -"Oh, no," she assured me; "'e beat me, but 'e no kill me; 'e love me -too much. It make 'im too sad if I die. But tell me vy Andrè 'e send ze -police for 'is 'at?" - -Before I could answer her, I heard a crash in the hall, and two voices -raised in vehement altercation. One of the voices belonged to my boy; -the other, I didn't recognise. - -"My 'usban'," whispered Madame Argot; "'e kill you." - -She was as pale as death, and trembling with terror. - -"No, you don't, sir; no, you don't," I heard the boy say. "Nobody goes -into the Doctor's office, without being announced, while I'm here." - -I rushed to the door leading into the hall, and had only just time to -turn the key before a heavy mass was hurled against it. Luckily, the -door was pretty solid, but it couldn't stand many such onslaughts. -Quickly locking the other one, which opened into the waiting-room, I -turned back to Madame Argot. What was to be done with her? For I was far -from sharing her belief in her own safety. My office has only one other -means of exit, as you know. This is a third door leading to my bed-room -and bath-room. I decided at once that it was useless trying to hide -Madame in either of these places. Any moment the door might give way -before her husband's insane strength, and, then, it would infuriate him -still more to find his wife in such a compromising position. No, the -window, which opened on a small court, was our only hope. It was not a -big drop to the ground, and, once there, she could easily make her way -to the street, through the janitor's apartment. Without a word, I seized -her and dragged her to the window. - -"Put your feet out," I whispered; "give me your hands, and now let -yourself go. It won't hurt you, and you will be able to escape through -the basement." - -"I cannot; I am afraid," she murmured, drawing back. - -A pistol shot rang out, followed by the sound of splintering wood. I had -no time to turn around, and see what had happened. - -"Jump at once," I commanded. - -She obeyed, almost unconscious from fear. She was pretty heavy, and -very nearly had me out, too, but I managed to draw back, although the -exertion was such that my arms ached for several hours afterwards. I -stopped a moment to close the window partly, fearing that if I left it -wide open, it might attract the madman's attention, and that he would be -after her before she had time to get to a place of safety. - -Turning back into the room, I saw that a bullet had pierced one of the -panels of the door around which the fight seemed to be centred. A minute -more, and it would give way. I rushed to the other one, and, quickly -unlocking it, dashed through the waiting room, and caught the lunatic -in the rear. With a bound, I was upon him, my two hands encircling his -throat. - -"Stand clear of that pistol!" I shouted, as Argot (for it was indeed he) -tried to fire over his shoulder. A young man I had not seen before -sprang forward, and, seizing his arm, bent it back till it caused a yell -of pain and the pistol fell from the madman's grasp. At this juncture -the janitor appeared, and the four of us had little difficulty in -overpowering the fellow, although he still fought like a demon. As soon -as he was safely bound, I sent my boy to telephone for an ambulance. -I now observed, for the first time, that Argot had evidently tried to -disguise himself. An enormous pillow, stuffed inside his trousers, and -several towels, wound around his shoulders, gave him the appearance of -extreme obesity. So, after all, he had been the fat man, and the running -footsteps had been his. Well, I was glad that one mystery, at least, was -cleared up. - -The young stranger, whose opportune appearance had, in all probability, -saved my life, still knelt beside the prostrate man, and he and I, -together, succeeded in preventing him from breaking his bonds during one -of his many paroxysms of frenzy. - -"Thank you very much for your timely assistance," I said; "you are a -brave man." - -"Oh, not at all," he replied; "I am on duty here; I've been shadowing -this man all the evening." - -We had an awful job getting Argot into the ambulance, and I confess I -never felt more relieved in my life than when I saw him safely locked up -in a padded cell. - -As I was coming away from the hospital, I met Merritt hurrying towards -it. - -"Hello!" he called out; "is it all over?" - -"Yes; he's locked up, if that's what you mean." - -"Well, Doctor, you've had a pretty lively time of it, my man tells me." - -"It's entirely owing to your forethought, in having Argot immediately -watched, that some of us are alive at present." - -"You don't say; well, let's have a drink to celebrate the occasion. You -look a little white around the gills, Doctor." - -After tossing down my second bracer, I said: "Well, Mr. Merritt, how do -you feel about your bet now?" - -"Oh, all right," he answered, with a twinkle in his eye. - -I stared at him in bewilderment. Then, remembering that of course he had -not yet heard Madame's story, I proceeded at once to impart it to him. - -"Very curious," was the only comment he made. - -"But, look here, Mr. Merritt; what more do you want to convince you of -the Frenchman's guilt?" - -"Proofs; that's all," he replied cheerfully. - -"But what further proof do you need? Here you have a man who is -undoubtedly insane, who is furthermore an inmate of the Rosemere, and -who, on Tuesday evening, went out with the avowed intention of killing -his supposed rival; and, to cap the climax, the victim's hat is found in -his possession. And yet, you have doubts!" - -The detective only smiled quietly. - -"By the way," he said, "I must go to the hospital, and get that hat -before it disappears again." - -I started. - -"It didn't occur to me before, but when we put him into the ambulance, -he was bareheaded," I confessed. - -Merritt uttered an exclamation of impatience. - -"We'll go to your place, then; it must be there. When you saw him in the -street, he had on a hat similar to the one we are looking for, didn't -he?" - -"Yes." - -"Then it's probably somewhere in your hall. That you shouldn't have -noticed its absence does not surprise me so much, but that my man should -have overlooked an article of such importance, does astonish me. It's -his business to look after just such details." - -When we reached the house we had to fight our way through a crowd of -reporters, but in the hall, sure enough, we found the hat. Merritt -positively pounced on it, and, taking it into my office, examined it -carefully. - -"What do you think of it?" I at last asked. - -"I'm not yet prepared to say, Doctor; besides, you and I are now playing -on different sides of the fence--of that $50, in other words, and till I -can produce my pretty criminal, mum's the word." - -"When will that be?" - -"Let me see," replied the detective; "to-day is Tuesday. What do you say -to this day week? If I haven't been able to prove my case before then, I -will acknowledge myself in the wrong and hand you the $50." - -"That suits me," I said. - -I am ashamed to say that all this time I had forgotten about poor -Madame. Having remembered her, I went to her at once, and found her -violently hysterical and attended by several well-meaning, if helpless, -Irish women, who listened to her voluble French with awe, not unmixed -with distrust. I at last succeeded in calming her, but I was glad her -master was spending several days out of town, for I could imagine -nothing more distasteful to that correct gentleman than all this noise -and notoriety. I was afraid that if he heard that more reporters were -awaiting his return, he would not come back at all. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A PROFESSIONAL VISIT OUT OF TOWN - - - BEVERLEY, L. I., - Monday, August 15. - - DEAR CHARLEY: - - My leg is worse. Won't you run down here and have a look at it? I - also want your advice about May Derwent. - - Aff. yours, - FRED. - -When I received this note early on Tuesday morning, I at once made -arrangements for a short absence. Now that duty, and not inclination -alone, called me elsewhere, I had no scruples about leaving New York; -and when, a few hours later, after visiting my most urgent cases, I -found myself on a train bound for Beverley, I blessed Fred's leg, which -had procured me this unexpected little holiday. What a relief it was to -leave the dust and the noise of the city behind, and to feast my eyes -once more on the sight of fields and trees. - -On arriving at my destination, I drove immediately to the Cowper's -cottage. I found Fred in bed, with his leg a good deal swollen. His -anxiety to go to the Derwents had tempted him to use it before it was -sufficiently strong; consequently, he had strained it, and would now be -laid up with it for some time longer. - -"Well, Charley," he said, when I had finished replacing the bandages, "I -don't suppose you are very sorry to be in this part of the world, eh? My -leg did you a good turn, didn't it?" - -I assented, curtly, for, although I agreed with him from the bottom of -my heart, I didn't mean to be chaffed on a certain subject, even by him. - -In order, probably, to tease me, he made no further allusion to the -other object of my visit, so that I was, at last, forced to broach the -subject myself. - -"Oh, May? She's really much better. There is no doubt of it. I think the -idea of brain fever thoroughly frightened her, for now she meekly obeys -orders, and takes any medicine I prescribe without a murmur." - -"Well, but then why did you write that you wished to consult me about -her?" - -"Because, Charley," he replied, laying aside his previously flippant -manner, "although her general health has greatly improved, I can't -say as much for her nervous condition. The latter seems to me so -unsatisfactory that I am beginning to believe that Mrs. Derwent was -not far wrong when she suggested that her daughter might be slightly -demented." - -I felt myself grow cold, notwithstanding the heat of the day. Then, -remembering the quiet and collected way she had behaved under -circumstances as trying as any I could imagine a girl's being placed in, -I took courage again. May was not insane. I would not believe it. - -"At all events," continued Fred, "I felt that she should not be left -without medical care, and, as I can't get out to see her, and as she -detests the only other doctor in the place, I suggested to Mrs. Derwent -that she should consult you. Being a friend of mine, ostensibly here on -a simple visit, it would be the most natural thing in the world for you -to go over to their place, and you could thus see May, and judge of her -condition without her knowing that she was under observation." - -"That's well. It is always best to see a nervous patient off guard, if -possible. Now, tell me all the particulars of the case." - -When he had done this, I could not refrain from asking whether Norman -was still there. - -"Certainly! And seems likely to remain indefinitely." - -"Really?" - -"Yes! I forgot to tell you that May begged to be allowed to see him -yesterday. As she was able to get up, and lie on the sofa, I consented, -for I feared a refusal would agitate her too much. I only stipulated -that he should not remain with her over half an hour. What occurred -during this meeting, of course, I don't know. But May experienced no bad -effects. On the contrary, her mother writes that she has seemed calmer -and more cheerful ever since." - -"They are probably engaged. Don't you think so?" And as I put the -question, I knew that if the answer were affirmative my chance of -happiness was gone for ever. - -"I don't believe it," he answered, "for after his interview with May, -Norman spent the rest of the day sunk in the deepest gloom. He ate -scarcely anything, and when forced to remain in the house (feeling, I -suppose, that politeness demanded that he should give us at any rate a -little of his society) he moved restlessly from one seat to another. -Several times he tried to pull himself together and to join in the -conversation, but it was no use; notwithstanding all his efforts he -would soon relapse into his former state of feverish unrest. Now, that -doesn't look like the behaviour of a happy lover, does it? - -"Since he has been here he has spent most of his time prowling about -the Derwents' house, and as Alice was leaving their place yesterday -evening she caught a glimpse of him hiding behind a clump of bushes just -outside their gate. At least, she is almost sure that it was he, but -was so afraid it would embarrass him to be caught playing sentinel that, -after a cursory glance in his direction, she passed discreetly by. -Afterwards it occurred to her that she should have made certain of his -identity, for the man she saw may have been some questionable character. -We are not sure that May's extreme nervousness is not due to the fact -that she is being persecuted by some unscrupulous person, her brother, -for instance. You know I have always believed that he was in some way -connected with her illness." - -"I know you have." - -"But to return to Norman," continued Fred. "I not only suspect him of -haunting her door by day, but of spending a good part of the night -there. At any rate, I used to hear him creeping in and out of the house -at all sorts of unusual hours. The first night I took him for a burglar, -and showed what I consider true courage by starting out after him with -an empty pistol and--a crutch!" - -"I don't think that anything you have told me, however, is at all -incompatible with his being Miss Derwent's accepted suitor. His distress -is probably due to anxiety about her health." I said this, hoping he -would contradict me. - -Whether he would have done so or not I shall never know, for at that -point our conversation was interrupted by the entrance of his sister; -and as it had been previously arranged that she was to drive me over to -the Derwents, we started off at once. - -At last I was to see my lady again! It seemed too good to be true. - -Having given our names to the butler, we were ushered into a large -drawing-room, redolent with flowers. So this was May's home. - -I glanced eagerly about. These chairs had held her slight form; at that -desk she had written, and these rugs had felt the impress of her little -feet. A book lay near me on a small table. I passed my fingers lovingly -over it. This contact with an object she must often have touched gave -me an extraordinary pleasure,--a pleasure so great as to make me forget -everything else,--and I started guiltily, and tried to lay the book down -unobserved, when a tall, grey-haired lady stepped from the veranda into -the room. - -Mrs. Derwent greeted Miss Cowper affectionately, and welcomed me with -quiet grace. - -"Fred has told me so much about you, Dr. Fortescue, that I am very glad -to meet you at last." - -Then, turning to Alice Cowper, she said: "May wants very much to see -you. She is lying in a hammock on the piazza, where it is much cooler -than here. Dr. Fortescue and I will join you girls later." - -"You have been told of my daughter's condition?" she inquired, as soon -as we were alone. - -"Yes. I hear, however, that there has been a marked improvement since -Sunday." - -"There was a great improvement. She seemed much less nervous yesterday, -but to-day she has had another of her attacks." - -"I am sorry to hear that. Do you know what brought this one on?" - -"Yes. It was reading in the paper of the Frenchman's assault on you!" - -"But I don't understand why that should have affected her." - -"You will forgive my saying so, Doctor--neither do I, although I am -extremely glad that you escaped from that madman unhurt." - -She looked at me for a moment in silence, then said: "When Fred advised -me to consult you about my daughter's health, I knew immediately that I -had heard your name before, but could not remember in what connection I -had heard it mentioned. In fact, it was not until I read in the _Bugle_ -that the man who was supposed to have committed the Rosemere murder had, -last night, attempted to kill you that I realized that you were the -young doctor whom my daughter had told me about. You were present when -she was made to give an account of herself to the coroner, were you -not?" - -"Yes, but I trust that my slight association with that affair will make -no difference." - -She again interrupted me: "It makes the greatest difference, I assure -you. As you are aware of the exact nature of the shock she has -sustained, I am spared the painful necessity of informing a stranger of -her escapade. We are naturally anxious that the fact of her having been -in the building at the time of the murder should be known to as few -people as possible. I am, therefore, very grateful to you for not -mentioning the matter, even to Fred. Although I have been obliged to -confide in him myself, I think that your not having done so indicates -rare discretion on your part." - -I bowed. - -"You may rely on me," I said. "I have the greatest respect and -admiration for Miss Derwent, and would be most unwilling to say anything -which might lay her open to misconstruction." - -"Thank you. Now, Doctor, you know exactly what occurred. You are -consequently better able than any one else to judge whether what she has -been through is in itself enough to account for her present illness." - -"She is still very nervous?" - -"Incredibly so. She cannot bear to be left alone a minute." - -"And you know of no reason for this nervousness other than her -experience at the Rosemere?" - -"None." - -"May I ask how the news of the butler's attack on me affected her?" How -sweet to think that she had cared at all! - -"Very strangely," replied Mrs. Derwent. "After reading the account -of it she fainted, and it was quite an hour before she recovered -consciousness. Since then she has expressed the greatest desire to go to -New York, but will give no reason for this absurd whim. Mr. Norman was -also much upset by the thought of the danger you had incurred." - -"Mr. Norman! But I don't know him!" - -"So he told me. To be able to feel so keenly for a stranger shows an -extraordinary sensibility, does it not?" - -She looked at me keenly. - -"It does, indeed! It is most inexplicable!" - -"I don't know whether Fred has told you that since my daughter was taken -ill on Sunday she cannot bear to have Mr. Norman out of her sight. He -has been here all day, and now she insists on his leaving the Cowpers -and staying with us altogether. Her behaviour is incomprehensible." - -This was pleasant news for me! - -"Surely this desire for his society can mean but one thing?" - -"Of course, you think that she must care for him, but I am quite sure -that she does not." - -"Really?" I could hardly keep the note of pleasure out of my voice. - -"If she were in love with him I should consider her conduct quite -normal. But it is the fact of her indifference that makes it so very -curious." - -"You are sure this indifference is real and not assumed?" - -"Quite sure," replied Mrs. Derwent. "She tries to hide it, but I can see -that his attentions are most unwelcome to her. If he happens, in handing -her something, to touch her accidentally, she visibly shrinks from him. -Oh, Mr. Norman has noticed this as well as I have, and it hurts him." - -"And yet she cannot bear him out of her sight, you say?" - -"Exactly. As long as he is within call she is quiet and contented, and -in his absence she fidgets. And yet she does not care to talk to him, -and does so with an effort that is perfectly apparent to me. The poor -fellow is pathetically in love, and I can see that he suffers keenly -from her indifference." - -"I suppose he expects his patient devotion to win the day in the end." - -"I don't think he does. I felt it my duty in the face of May's -behaviour--which is unusual, to say the least--to tell him that I didn't -believe she cared for him or meant to marry him. 'I quite understand -that,' was all he answered. But why he does not expect her to do so, is -what I should like to know. As she evidently can't live without him, I -don't see why she won't live with him. - -"But now, Dr. Fortescue," added Mrs. Derwent, rising to leave the room, -"let us go to my daughter. She is prepared to see you. But your visit is -purely social, remember." - -A curtain of honeysuckle and roses protected one end of the piazza -from the rays of an August sun, and it was in this scented nook, amid -surroundings whose peace and beauty contrasted strangely with those of -our first meeting, that I at last saw May Derwent again. She lay in a -hammock, her golden head supported by a pile of be-ruffled cushions, and -with one small slipper peeping from under her voluminous skirts. At our -approach, however, she sprang to her feet, and came forward to meet us. -I had thought and dreamt of her for six long weary days and nights, and -yet, now that she stood before me, dressed in a trailing, white gown -of some soft material, slightly opened at the neck and revealing her -strong, white, young throat, her firm, rounded arms bare to the elbow, -and with one superb rose (I devoutly hoped it was one of those I had -sent her) as her only ornament, she made a picture of such surpassing -loveliness as fairly to take my breath away. I had been doubtful as to -how she would receive me, so that when she smilingly held out her hand, -I felt a great weight roll off my heart. Her manner was perfectly -composed, much more so than mine in fact. A beautiful blush alone -betrayed her embarrassment at meeting me. - -"Why, Dr. Fortescue," exclaimed Alice Cowper, "you never told me that -you knew May." - -"Our previous acquaintance was so slight that I did not expect Miss -Derwent to remember me." I answered evasively, wondering, as I did so, -whether May had confided to her friend where and when it was that we had -met. - -"I want to congratulate you, Doctor," said Miss Derwent, changing the -conversation abruptly, "on your recent escape." - -"From the madman, you mean? It was a close shave, I assure you. For -several minutes I was within nodding distance of St. Peter." - -"How dreadful! But why was the fellow not locked up long before this?" - -"I did all I could to have him put under restraint. Several days ago I -told a detective that I was sure not only that Argot was insane, but -that he had committed the Rosemere murder. But he wouldn't listen -to me, and I came very near having to pay with my life for his -pig-headedness. Every one has now come round to my way of thinking -except this same detective, who still insists that the butler is -innocent." - -Now that the blush had faded from her cheek, I realised that she was -indeed looking wretchedly pale and thin, and as she leaned eagerly -forward I was shocked to see how her lips twitched and her hands -trembled. - -"So it was you who first put the police on the Frenchman's tracks?" she -demanded. - -"Yes. But you must remember that the success my first attempt at -detective work has met with is largely due to the exceptional -opportunities I have had for investigating this case. You may have -noticed that no hat was found with the corpse and the police have -therefore been searching everywhere for one that could reasonably be -supposed to have belonged to the murdered man. Now, I may tell you, -although I must ask you not to mention it, as the police do not yet wish -that the fact become known, that it was I who found this missing hat in -Argot's possession. But I can't boast much of my discovery, because the -man brought it into my office himself. All I really did was to keep my -eyes open, you see." I tried to speak modestly, for I was conscious of a -secret pride in my achievement. - -"I really cannot see why you should have taken upon yourself to play the -detective!" - -I was so startled by May's sudden attack on me that for a moment I -remained speechless. Luckily, Mrs. Derwent saved me from the necessity -of replying, by rising from her chair. Slipping her arm through Miss -Cowper's, she said--casting a significant glance at me: "We will leave -these people to quarrel over the pros and cons of amateur work, and you -and I will go and see what Mr. Norman is doing over there in that arbour -all by himself." - -Fred had mentioned that at times May seemed alarmingly oblivious to what -was going on around her, and I now noticed with profound anxiety that -she appeared entirely unconscious of the departure of her mother and -friend. - -"Just suppose for a moment that this man Argot," she went on, as if our -conversation had not been interrupted, "is innocent, and yet owing to an -unfortunate combination of circumstances, is unable to prove himself so. -Who should be held responsible for his death but you, Dr. Fortescue! Had -you not meddled with what did not concern you, no one would have thought -of suspecting this wretched Frenchman! You acknowledge that yourself?" - -"But, my dear Miss Derwent, why do you take for granted that the fellow -is innocent?--although, in his present state of health, it really does -not make much difference whether he is or not. In this country we do not -punish maniacs, even homicidal ones. We only shut them up till they are -well again. I think, however, that you take a morbid view of the whole -question. Of course, justice sometimes miscarries, but not often, and to -one person who is unjustly convicted, there are hundreds of criminals -who escape punishment. As with everything else--medicine, for instance; -you do your best, take every precaution, and then, if you make a -mistake, the only thing to do is not to blame yourself too severely for -the consequences." - -"I quite agree with you," she said, "when to take a risk is part of your -business. But is it not foolhardy to do so when there is no call for -it?--when your inexperience renders you much more likely to commit some -fatal error? What would you say if I tried to perform an operation, for -instance?" - -She was working herself into such a state of excitement that I became -alarmed; so, abruptly changing the subject, I inquired after her health. -She professed to feel perfectly well (which I doubted). Still I did not -take as serious a view of her case as Fred had done; for I knew--what -both he and Mrs. Derwent ignored--that while in town the poor girl had -been through various trying experiences. During that time she had not -only been forced to break with Greywood, to whom I was sure she had been -engaged, but an entanglement, the nature of which I did not know, had -induced her to give shelter secretly, and at night, to two people of -undoubtedly questionable character. The shock of the murder was but a -climax to all this. No wonder that my poor darling--her heart bleeding -from the uprooting of an affection which, however unworthy the object -of it had proved, must still have been difficult to eradicate; her mind -harassed by the fear of impending disgrace to some person whom I must -believe her to be very intimately concerned with; her nerves shaken by -the horror of a murder under her very roof--should return to the haven -of her home in a state bordering on brain fever. That she had not -succumbed argued well for her constitution, I thought. - -"Fred is quite worried about you, and asked me to beg you to take great -care of yourself," I ventured to say. - -"What nonsense! What I need is a little change. I should be all right if -I could get away from here." - -"This part of the world _is_ pretty hot, I acknowledge. A trip to Maine -or Canada would, no doubt, do you a lot of good." - -"But I don't want to go to Maine or Canada--I want to go to New York." - -"To New York?" - -"Yes, why not? I find the country dull, and am longing for a glimpse of -the city." - -"But the heat in town is insufferable, and there is nothing going on -there," I reminded her. - -"Roof gardens are always amusing, and when the heat gets to a certain -point, it is equally unbearable everywhere." - -I begged to differ. - -"At all events, I want to go there, and my wishing to do so should be -enough for you. O Doctor, make Fred persuade Mamma to take me. As they -both insist that I am ill, I don't see why they won't let me indulge -this whim." - -"They think that it would be very bad for you." - -"Oh, it never does one any harm to do what one likes." - -"What a delightful theory!" - -"You will try and persuade Mamma and Fred to allow me to go to New York, -won't you? You are a doctor; they would listen to you." - -I glanced down into her beseeching blue eyes, then looked hastily away. - -The temptation to allow her to do as she wished was very great. If I -were able to see her every day, what opportunities I should have for -pressing my suit! But I am glad to say that the thought of her welfare -was dearer to me than my hopes even. So I conscientiously used every -argument I could think of to induce her to remain where she was. But, as -she listened, I saw her great eyes fill slowly with tears. - -"Oh, I must go; I must go," she cried; and, burying her head in a -cushion, she burst into a flood of hysterical weeping. - -Her mother, hearing the commotion, flew to my assistance, but it was -some time before we succeeded in quieting her. At length, she recovered -sufficiently to be left to the care of her maid. - -I was glad to be able to assure Mrs. Derwent that, notwithstanding the -severity of the attack I had witnessed, I had detected in her daughter -no symptom of insanity. - -As there was no further excuse for remaining, I allowed Miss Alice to -drive me away. Young Norman, who was returning to the Cowper's to fetch -his bag, went with us; and his company did not add to my pleasure, I -confess. I kept glancing at him, surreptitiously, anxious to discover -what it was that May saw in him. He appeared to me to be a very ordinary -young man. I had never, to my knowledge, met him before; yet, the longer -I looked at him the more I became convinced that this was not the first -time I had seen him, and, not only that, but I felt that I had some -strange association with him. But what? My memory refused to give up -its secret. All that night I puzzled over it, but the following morning -found me with that riddle still unsolved. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -MR. AND MRS. ATKINS AT HOME - - -An urgent case necessitated my leaving Beverley at such an early hour -that the city was still half asleep when I reached it. After driving -from florist to florist in search of an early riser amongst them, I at -last found one. I selected the choicest of his flowers, and ordered them -to be sent to Miss Derwent by special messenger, hoping they would -arrive in time to greet her on her awakening, and cheerfully paid the -price demanded for them. - -On reaching my office I was surprised to find a note from the -irrepressible Atkins. You may remember, patient reader, that I had -promised to dine with him on the previous evening. When I found that it -would be impossible for me to do so, I sent word that I regretted that -I could not keep my engagement with him. I naturally thought that that -ended the matter. Not at all! Here was an invitation even more urgent -than the last--an invitation for that very day, too. Unless I wished to -be positively rude and to hurt the feelings of these good people, I must -accept. There was no way out of it. So I scribbled a few lines to that -effect. - -I confess that when I rang the Atkins's bell that evening I did so with -considerable trepidation, for I was not at all sure how the lady would -receive me. You see I had not forgotten the way she flounced out of the -room the last and only time I had seen her. And yet I had been quite -blameless on that occasion. It was the Coroner's questions which had -annoyed her, not mine. However, I was considerably reassured as to my -reception by receiving a smiling welcome from the same pretty maid -I had seen the week before. It is a queer fact that we unconsciously -measure the amount of regard people have for us by the manners of their -servants. That this theory is quite fallacious, I know; but I found it -very useful on this occasion, for it gave me the necessary courage to -enter the drawing-room with smiling composure. - -The room was almost dark, and, coming from the brilliantly-lighted hall, -it was some seconds before I could distinguish from its surroundings -the small figure of my hostess, silhouetted against the crimson sky. -Her shimmering black gown and fluffy hair caught and reflected her -red background in such a way that for a moment I fancied I saw her -surrounded and bespattered with blood. The effect was so uncanny that -it quite startled me, but as she moved forward the illusion vanished, -and I was soon shaking a soft, warm hand, which was quite reassuring. - -"I just hope you don't mind the dark," she exclaimed, leading me to a -chair and sinking into one herself, "but somehow the light has hurt my -eyes lately, and so I don't turn it on till it is so dark that I tumble -all over the furniture. Mr. Atkins says I'm crazy and ought to buy a -pair of blue goggles, and so I would, only they're so unbecoming." - -"On the contrary," I assured her, as I let myself cautiously down into -one of those uncomfortable gilt abominations known to the trade as a -Louis XVI. armchair, "I think this dim light just the thing for a chat; -I always become quite confidential if I am caught between daylight and -dark. The day reveals too much; it offers no veil for one's blushes. The -darkness, on the other hand, having no visible limits, robs one of that -sense of seclusion which alone provokes confidences. But the twilight, -the tactful twilight, is so discreet that it lures one on to open one's -heart. Luckily, no designing person has yet found out how weak I am at -this hour, or else I should have no secrets left." - -"Oh, go along," she giggled; "I guess you're not the kind to say more -than you mean to." - -"I assure you I am--" but here I was interrupted by my host, who called -out from the threshold: - -"Hello, sitting in the dark? This is really too absurd, Lulu." - -A flood of light followed these words and revealed young Atkins's -stalwart figure, irreproachably clad in evening dress. - -"Well, I _am_ glad to see you, Doctor," he cried, as he wrung my hand -vigorously. "Dinner's ready, too, and I hope you're ready for it." - -The folding doors leading into the next room slid back and disclosed a -prettily appointed table, profusely decorated with flowers and silver. -Soon after we had settled into our chairs, I seized a moment when I -was unobserved to steal a look at Mrs. Atkins. She was certainly paler -and thinner than when I had seen her last, but the change instead of -detracting from her looks only added to her charm. Dark violet lines -encircled her blue eyes and lent them a wistful, pathetic expression -that greatly enhanced their beauty. Otherwise, I thought her less -changed than her husband had led me to suspect and I could detect none -of that extreme nervousness of which he had spoken; only when she turned -towards him did her manner appear at all strained, and even this was so -slight as to be hardly noticeable. In fact, of the two, it was he who -seemed ill at ease, and I noticed that he kept watching her anxiously. I -saw that she was conscious of his constant scrutiny and that at times -she became quite restless under his prolonged gaze; then, tossing her -head defiantly, as if determined to cast off the spell of his eyes, she -would talk and laugh with renewed animation. - -The dinner was delicious and well served; my hostess extremely pretty; -my host almost overpoweringly cordial, and the conversation agreeable, -if not highly intellectual. We had reached the fruit stage, and I was -leaning contentedly back in my chair, congratulating myself on my good -luck in having happened on such a pleasant evening, when Mrs. Atkins -exclaimed: - -"I say, Doctor, you haven't told us a thing about your thrilling -adventure. What a blessing the madman didn't succeed in killing you. Do -tell us all about it." - -After her husband's warning me that the bare mention of the tragedy -excited her I had naturally taken great pains to avoid all reference to -the subject. I was, consequently, a good deal surprised to hear her -broach it with such apparent calmness. - -I glanced inquiringly at Atkins. - -"Yes, do," he urged, still looking at his wife. - -"I'm afraid there isn't much more to tell," I hesitatingly replied; "I -gave the newspapers a pretty straight account of the whole affair." - -"Oh, but you were much too modest," she cried; "a little bird has told -us that you are a great detective, and suspected Argot from the first. -Say, how did you manage to hit on him? We want all the details, you -know." - -It was her flattery, I am afraid, which loosened my tongue and made me -forget my former caution. - -"Well, it was mostly luck," I assured her, and then proceeded to give a -long account of the whole affair. - -"And now," I said, warming to my topic under their evident interest, -"I wonder if either of you, when you read over the description of the -murdered man, or when you saw him, for the matter of that, noticed -anything peculiar about him? I confess that it escaped me and my -attention had to be called to it by Mr. Merritt." - -"Something peculiar," she repeated. "What kind of a peculiarity do you -mean?" - -"Well, the lack of an important article of apparel," I replied. - -"No; I didn't notice anything out of the way," she answered, after -considering the question for some minutes. - -I turned towards her husband. He was leaning forward, so deeply absorbed -in watching his wife as to be entirely unconscious of my presence, and -on his ingenious countenance I was shocked to observe suspicion and love -struggling for mastery. Struck by his silence, she, too, looked at him, -and as her eyes encountered his I saw a look of fear creep into them, -and the faint color fade from her cheeks. When he saw how his behaviour -had affected her, he tried to pull himself together, and passed his hand -swiftly over his face as if anxious to obliterate whatever might be -written there. - -"Well, what is this missing link?" he asked, with obviously enforced -gaiety. He looked squarely at me, and, as he did so, I became convinced -that he already knew the answer to that question. For a moment we stared -at each other in silence. Were my looks tell-tale, I wondered, and could -he see that I had discovered his secret? - -"Say," broke in Mrs. Atkins, "don't go to sleep. What was this missing -thing?" - -I would have given anything not to have had to answer. - -"No hat was found with the body," I said. Atkins, I noticed, was again -looking fixedly at his wife, who had grown deathly white, and sat -staring at him, as if hypnotised. Both had, apparently, forgotten me, -but yet I felt deeply embarrassed at being present, and dropped my eyes -to my plate so as to give them a chance to regain their composure -unobserved. - -"Has the hat been found?" I heard her inquire, and her high soprano -voice had again that peculiar grating quality I had noticed during her -interview with the Coroner. - -"Yes," I answered, "it was found in Argot's possession. He actually wore -it, and laid it down under my nose. Insanity can go no further." - -"But how did you know it was the missing hat?" demanded Atkins, without -taking his eyes off his wife. - -What could I answer? I was appalled at the dilemma into which my vanity -and stupidity had led me. - -"I suspected it was the hat which was wanted," I blundered on, "because -Mr. Merritt had told me he was looking for an ordinary white straw -containing the name of a Chicago hatter. Argot's hat answered to this -description, and, as the Frenchman had never been West, I concluded that -he had not got it by fair means." - -"So the dead man hailed from Chicago, did he?" inquired Atkins. - -"The detective thinks so," I answered. - -"Have the police discovered his name yet?" - -"I--I am not sure!" - -"You are discreet, I see." - -"Indeed, no," I assured him. "The last time I saw Mr. Merritt he was -still in doubt as to the man's real name." - -"He only knew that the initials were A. B.," said Atkins, quickly. - -I glanced, rapidly, from the husband to the wife. They sat, facing each -other, unflinchingly, like two antagonists of mettle, their faces drawn -and set. But the strain proved too much for the woman, and, in another -moment, she would have fallen to the floor if I had not managed to catch -her. Instead of assisting me, her husband sat quite still, wiping great -beads of perspiration from his forehead. - -"Come here," I said, "and help me to carry your wife to the window." - -He got up, as if dazed, and came slowly toward me, and, together, we -carried her to a lounge in the drawing-room. - -"Look here, you told me yourself that all mention of the murder made -your wife extremely nervous, and yet you distinctly encouraged us to -talk about it this evening. Do you think that right?" - -He stared at me with unseeing eyes, and appeared not to understand what -I was saying. - -"I had to find out the truth," he muttered. - -"Look here, man," I cried, shaking him by the arm, "pull yourself -together. Don't let your wife see that expression on your face when she -comes to. This is not a simple faint; your wife's heart is affected, and -if you excite her still further you may kill her." - -That roused him, and he now joined to the best of his ability in my -endeavors to restore her. She soon opened her eyes, and glanced timidly -at her husband. He managed to smile affectionately at her, which seemed -to reassure her. - -"How stupid of me to faint!" she exclaimed, "but it was so very hot." - -"Yes, the heat is dreadful; you really should not overtax yourself -during this weather," said her husband, gently, laying his hand on hers. -She beamed at him, while a lovely pink overspread her pale face. - -"As a doctor, may I urge Mrs. Atkins to go to bed immediately?" I said. - -"Oh, no, no," she cried petulantly; "I'm all right." But as she tried to -stand up she staggered helplessly. - -"I insist on your going to bed, Lulu; I shall carry you up-stairs at -once." And the big man picked her up without more ado. She smiled at me -over his shoulder, dimpling like a pleased child. - -"You see, Doctor, what a tyrant he is," she cried, waving her small hand -as she disappeared. - -When Atkins returned, I rose to say good night, but he motioned me to -return to my seat, and handing me a box of cigars, insisted on my taking -one. Then, dragging a chair forward, he sat down facing me. We puffed -away for several minutes, in silence. I was sure, from his manner, that -he was trying to get up his courage to tell me something. - -"You said just now that Mrs. Atkins has something the matter with her -heart?" - -"I'm afraid so; but I do not fancy it is anything very serious, and if -it is taken in time, and she leads a quiet, happy life, there is no -reason that she should not recover completely." - -He got up and paced the room. - -"I love her," he murmured. - -I watched him with increasing perplexity. - -"Well, if that is so, treat her differently. You sit and watch her -in a way that is enough to make anyone nervous, let alone a delicate -woman. Forgive my speaking so plainly, but I consider it my duty as a -physician. I am convinced that the extreme nervousness you spoke of (and -which, by the way, I have failed to observe) is not to be attributed to -the murder at all, but to your behaviour. I don't think you have any -idea how strange that is." - -"Oh, but my wife has not been nervous since the Frenchman was arrested. -We watched him being taken away from your house, and last night she -slept quietly for the first time since the tragedy." He paused and -looked at me as if he longed to say more. - -"Well, that is quite natural, I think. I can imagine nothing more -alarming than to know that you are living under the same roof with an -undetected criminal, who might at any time make use of his freedom -to commit another murder. Till she knew who was guilty, she must have -suspected and feared everybody. Now that she knows the fellow to be -under lock and key, she can again sleep in peace." - -Atkins sat down. - -"Doctor, men of your calling are the same as confessors, are they not?" - -"If you mean as regards the sanctity of professional communications, -yes." - -"Then I should like to confide a few things to you under the seal of -that professional secrecy." - -"All right; go ahead." - -"Do you know that my wife is from Chicago?" - -"Yes." - -"I have never been there myself, and consequently know none of her -friends. You may have heard that my father was very much opposed to my -marriage. He collected a lot of cock-and-bull stories about my wife, -which, needless to say, I did not believe. So the wedding took place, -and, until a week ago, I can truthfully say that I have been perfectly -happy." - -"What happened then?" - -"I had to go out of town for two days on business, and got back very -late on Wednesday night, having been delayed by an accident on the line. -I was careful to be very quiet as I let myself in, anxious not to wake -up my wife, who, I expected, would be fast asleep at that hour. I was -therefore surprised and pleased to find the hall still ablaze with -light. So, she had sat up for me after all, I thought. Taking off my hat -I turned to hang it on the rack when I noticed a strange hat among my -own. I took it down and examined it. It contained the name of a Chicago -hatter and the initials A. B. were stamped on the inside band. At first -I was simply puzzled, then it occurred to me that its owner must be -still on the premises. That thought roused all my latent jealousy, so, -putting the hat quietly back, I stole on tiptoe to the parlor. Peeping -through the portières, I saw my wife lying asleep on the sofa. She was -quite alone. To whom then did the hat belong? What man had left in such -hurry or agitation as to forget so essential a thing? All the stories -my father had told me came back to me with an overwhelming rush. Then I -blushed at my want of confidence. All I had to do, I assured myself, was -to wake up my wife and she would explain everything at once. I should -not need to ask a question even; she would of her own accord tell me -about her visitor. Full of these hopes I entered the room. She opened -her eyes almost immediately and greeted me with even greater warmth than -usual. I responded as best I could, but my impatience to hear what she -had to say was so great as to render me insensible to everything else. I -soon led our talk round to what she had been doing during my absence. -She told me in a general way, but, Doctor, she made no mention of a -gentleman visitor! I think I was patient. Again and again I gave her -the chance to confide in me. At last, I asked her right out if she had -happened to see any of her Chicago friends. She hesitated a minute, then -answered, deliberately, No! To doubt was no longer possible. She was -concealing something from me; therefore, there was something to conceal. -And yet she dared to hang around my neck and nestle close to me. It made -me sick to feel the false creature so near. I don't know what came over -me. The room swam before my eyes, and starting to my feet I flung her -from me. She fell in a heap by the window and lay quite still, staring -at me with speechless terror. I had had no intention of hurting her and -was horrified at my brutality. I went to her and tried to raise her up, -but at my approach she shrieked aloud and shrank away from me. I was -thoroughly ashamed now and begged her to forgive my behaviour. But -for some time she only shook her head, till at last, overcome by her -emotions, she burst into hysterical sobs. This was too much for me. I -forgot everything except that I loved her, and, kneeling down, gathered -her into my arms. She no longer resisted me, but like a tired child let -me do with her what I would. I carried her upstairs and soon had the -satisfaction of seeing her fall asleep. From that day to this neither -of us has ever referred to this occurrence! I didn't, because--well, -my motives were very mixed. In the first place, I couldn't apologize -for my behaviour without telling her the reason first, and that I was -unwilling to do unasked. I was ashamed of my suspicions, and wanted -the explanation to be offered by her and not solicited by me. And then, -underlying everything, was an unacknowledged dread of what I might -discover, and terror that I might again forget myself. But what were her -reasons for never asking for the meaning of my conduct? Why did she not -make me sue on my knees for pardon? She has always made a great fuss -whenever I have offended her before; why did she pass over this outrage -in silence? Did she fear what questions I might ask? Did she suspect the -cause of my anger? That night, before going to bed, I took that accursed -hat and flung it out of the dining-room window. It fell to the court -below, and there Argot must have picked it up." - -"When did you first become convinced that that hat had belonged to the -murdered man?" - -"Not for several days. In fact, I have never been perfectly sure till -this evening." - -"Really?" - -"Yes; you see it did not occur to me for some time that there was any -connection between my wife's visitor and the--the victim." Here the poor -fellow shuddered. "Her manner was slightly constrained, and I saw she -was depressed, but I thought that a natural result of the coolness that -had arisen between us. I soon found out, however, that although our -strained relations might weigh on her somewhat, the chief cause of her -trouble was the murder. She hardly ever spoke of it, but I could see -that it was never out of her mind. She used to send out for all the -papers and pore over them by the hour, and was so nervous that it was -positively painful to be in the room with her. She would start and -scream with or without provocation. Another peculiarity she developed -was an extreme disinclination to leaving the house. She went out on -Thursday afternoon, I believe, but from that day to the time of Argot's -arrest I don't think she ever left the building unless I insisted on it. -And another queer thing she did, was to stand behind the curtains and -peer at your house. I would catch her doing this at all hours of the day -and night. Then I began to wonder more and more why this murder had such -an effect on her. I read and re-read all that was printed about it, -and suddenly it came to me that no hat had been found with the body. I -searched the papers again feverishly. I had not been mistaken. Every -article of clothing was carefully enumerated, but no hat was mentioned. -It was then I first suspected that the dead man and my wife's visitor -were one and the same person. It was an awful moment, Doctor." - -He paused a while to control his emotions. "After that I kept -continually puzzling as to how the fellow could have come by his death. -Thank God, I was quite sure my little wife had no hand in that! You say -Argot killed him; perhaps he did, though I can't imagine why or how. As -soon as Mrs. Atkins heard that the Frenchman had been arrested her whole -manner changed. Her nervousness disappeared as if by magic, and to-day -she resumed her usual mode of life. She has even talked about the murder -occasionally. But the barrier between us has not diminished. I can not -forget that she concealed that man's visit from me. I have longed, yet -dreaded, to have the police discover his identity, fearing that if they -did his connection with my wife would also come out; and yet so anxious -am I to know the nature of that connection as to be willing to run -almost any risk to discover the truth. But things have come to a crisis -to-night. We can no longer go on living side by side with this secret -between us. She must tell me what there was between them. And now, when -I can bear the suspense no longer, you insist that she must not be -excited." - -I felt terribly sorry for the poor fellow, and hesitated what to advise. - -"Get a good doctor," I said at last, "and have Mrs. Atkins's heart -examined. Her trouble may not be as serious as I think it is, and in -that case there would be no further need of caution." - -"Won't you undertake the case?" - -"Have you no family physician?" - -"Yes; Dr. Hartley." - -"He is an excellent man, and I think it would be much less agitating -to Mrs. Atkins to be treated by her own doctor. You see it is very -important that she should be kept quiet. I should like to ask you one -thing, however: Don't you think you ought to tell the police that it was -you who first found the hat and who threw it into the yard?" - -"I don't think it the least necessary," he answered, in great alarm; -"what harm can this additional suspicion do Argot? There is no doubt -that he tried to murder you, and is quite irresponsible. Why should he -not be guilty of the other crime? You suspected him before you knew that -the hat was in his possession." - -"That is all very true. And the man is hopelessly insane, I hear, and, -guilty or not guilty, will probably spend the rest of his life in a -lunatic asylum. Well, I must be off. Let me know what Dr. Hartley's -verdict is. I am especially anxious that my fears may prove groundless, -because I am sure that if you and Mrs. Atkins could have a frank talk -everything would soon be satisfactorily explained." - -"Do you think so?" he exclaimed, eagerly. - -"I'm sure of it," and, with a hearty handshake, I left him. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -MY HYSTERICAL PATIENT - - -That night I could not sleep, and when on receiving my mail the next -morning I found that it contained no line from Fred, my anxiety could no -longer be kept within bounds, and I determined that, come what might, -another day should not pass without my seeing May Derwent. I left the -hospital as soon as I decently could, but, even so, it was almost one -o'clock before I was once more on my way to Beverley. On arriving -there, I found to my disgust that there were no cabs at the station. -An obliging countryman offered to "hitch up a team," but I declined, -thinking it would be quicker to walk than to wait for it, as the -Derwents' house was hardly a mile off. A delicious breeze had sprung -up and was blowing new life into me, and I should have enjoyed my walk -except for the fact that, as my visit must necessarily be a very short -one, I begrudged every minute spent away from May Derwent. I was, -therefore, trudging along at a great rate, entirely absorbed in -reaching my destination in the shortest possible time, when I was -surprised to perceive in the distance a woman running rapidly towards -me. As there was neither man nor beast in sight, I wondered at the -reason of her haste. A sudden illness? A fire? As the flying figure drew -nearer, I was dismayed to recognize May Derwent. I rushed forward to -meet her, and a moment later she lay panting and trembling in my arms. -As I looked down and saw her fair head lying on my breast I felt as if I -were having a foretaste of heaven. I was recalled to earth by feeling -her slight form shudder convulsively and by hearing an occasional -frightened sob. - -"What has happened, May? What has frightened you?" I feared that she -would resent this use of her Christian name, but she evidently did not -notice it, for she only clung the tighter to me. - -Mrs. Derwent, whose approach I had been watching, here joined us, hot -and out of breath from her unwonted exertion. Her indignation at finding -May in the arms of a comparative stranger was such that she dragged her -daughter quite roughly from me. - -"You must really calm yourself, May," she commanded, with more severity -than I had thought her capable of. - -But the poor child only continued to tremble and cry. As it seemed a -hopeless undertaking to try and quiet her, Mrs. Derwent and I each took -her by an arm and between us we assisted her home. As we were nearing -it, I saw Norman hurrying towards us. - -"What's the matter?" he inquired, anxiously. - -As May had grown gradually more composed, her mother felt she could now -leave her to my care, and, joining Norman, they walked briskly ahead, an -arrangement which I don't think that young man at all relished. - -My darling and I strolled slowly on, she leaning confidingly on me, and -I was well content. - -"You are not frightened, now?" I asked. - -She raised her beautiful eyes for an instant to mine. - -"No," she murmured; and all I could see of her averted face was one -small crimson ear. - -"I hope you will never be afraid when I am with you," I said, pressing -her arm gently to my side. She did not withdraw from me, only hung her -head lower, so I went on bravely. - -"These last forty-four hours have been the longest and most intolerable -of my life!" - -She elevated her eyebrows, and I thought I perceived a faint smile -hovering around her lips. - -"Indeed!" - -"I hope you got some flowers I sent you yesterday?" - -"Yes. Didn't you receive my note thanking you for them? They were very -beautiful!" - -I loudly anathematised the post which had delayed so important a -message. - -This time there was no doubt about it--and a roguish smile was parting -her lips. This emboldened me to ask: "Were these roses as good as the -first lot? I got them at a different place." - -"Oh, did you send those also? There was no card with them." - -"I purposely omitted to enclose one, as I feared you might consider that -I was presuming on our slight acquaintance. Besides, I doubted whether -you would remember me or had even caught my name." - -"I had not." - -There was a pause. - -"Oh, what must you have thought of me! What must you think of me!" she -exclaimed, in tones of deep distress, trying to draw her arm away. But -I held her fast. - -"Believe me, I entertain for you the greatest respect and admiration. I -should never dream of criticising anything you do or might have done." - -She shot a grateful glance at me, and seeing we were unobserved I -ventured to raise her small gloved hand reverently to my lips. She -blushed again, but did not repulse me. - -On arriving at the house, I insisted on her lying down, and, hoping the -quiet would do her good, we left her alone. On leaving the room, we -passed Norman pacing up and down outside, like a faithful dog. He did -not offer to join us, but remained at his post. - -I had not questioned May as to the cause of her fright, fearing to -excite her, but I was none the less anxious to know what had occurred. -Luckily, Mrs. Derwent was as eager to enlighten me as I was to learn. - -"You know, Doctor Fortescue, how I have tried lately to keep everything -away from my daughter which could possibly agitate her. However, when -she suggested that she would like to walk to the village I gladly -acquiesced, never dreaming that on a quiet country road anything could -occur to frighten her, nervous as she was. With the exception of last -Sunday, this was the first time since her return from New York that she -had been willing to go outside the gate; therefore I was especially glad -she should have this little change. I offered to accompany her or rather -them (for Mr. Norman, of course, joined us), and we all three started -off together. When we had gone some distance from the house, Mr. Norman -remembered an important letter which he had left on his writing-table -and which he was most anxious should catch the mid-day mail. So he -turned back to get it. I noticed at the time that May appeared very -reluctant to have him go. I even thought that she was on the point of -asking him not to leave her, but I was glad to see that she controlled -herself, for her horror of being separated from that young man has -seemed to me not only silly, but very compromising. So we walked on -alone, but very slowly, so that he could easily overtake us. The road -was pretty, the day heavenly, and my shaken spirits were lighter than -they had been for some time." Mrs. Derwent paused a moment to wipe her -eyes. "Did you happen to notice," she continued, "that clump of bushes -near the bend of the road?" - -"Certainly." - -"Well, just as we were passing those I caught sight of a horrid-looking -tramp, lying on his back, half hidden by the undergrowth. May was -sauntering along swinging her parasol, which she had not opened, as our -whole way had lain in the shade. She evidently did not see the fellow, -but I watched him get up and follow us on the other side of the bushes. -I was a little frightened, but before I could decide what I had better -do he had approached May and said something to her which I was unable -to catch. It must have been something very dreadful, for she uttered a -piercing shriek, and turning on him like a young tigress hit him several -times violently over the head with her sunshade. Dropping everything, -she fled from the scene. You know the rest." - -The last words were spoken a trifle austerely, and I saw that Mrs. -Derwent had not forgotten the position in which she had found her -daughter, although she probably considered that that position was -entirely due to May's hysterical condition and that I had been an -innocent factor in the situation. - -"What became of the tramp?" I inquired, eagerly. "I saw no one following -your daughter." - -"He did not do so. I stood for a moment watching her tear down the road, -and when again I remembered the man I found he had disappeared." - -"Would you know the fellow, if you saw him again?" - -"Certainly! He was an unusually repulsive specimen of his tribe." - -As Mrs. Derwent had failed to recognise him, the man could not have been -her son, as I had for a moment feared. - -"By the way, Doctor, May is still bent on going to New York." - -"Well, perhaps it is advisable that she should do so." - -"But why?" - -"The quiet of the country does not seem to be doing her much good, does -it? Let us, therefore, try the excitement of New York, and see what -effect that will have. Besides, I am very anxious to have Miss Derwent -see some great nerve specialist. I am still a very young practitioner, -and I confess her case baffles me." - -"I see that you fear that she is insane!" cried Mrs. Derwent. - -"Indeed, I do not," I assured her, "but I think her nerves are very -seriously out of order. If she goes on like this, she will soon be in -a bad way. If you wish me to do so, I will find out what specialist I -can most easily get hold of, and make arrangements for his seeing your -daughter with as little delay as possible." - -"Thank you." - -My time was now almost up, so I asked to see my patient again, so as to -assure myself that she was none the worse for her fright. - -I found her with her eyes open, staring blankly at the ceiling, and, -from time to time, her body would still twitch convulsively. However, -she welcomed us with a smile, and her pulse was decidedly stronger. It -was a terrible trial to me to see that lovely girl lying there, and to -feel that, so far, I had been powerless to help her. I thought that, -perhaps, if she talked of her recent adventure it would prevent her -brooding over it. So, after sympathising with her in a general way, I -asked what the tramp had said to terrify her so much. She shook her head -feebly. - -"I could not make out what he was saying." - -I glanced upwards, and caught a look of horror on her mother's face. - -"Oh, indeed," I said; "it was just his sudden appearance which -frightened you so much?" - -"Yes," she answered, wearily. "Oh, I wish I could go to New York," she -sighed. - -"I have just persuaded your mother to spend a few days there." - -She glanced quickly from one to the other. - -"Really?" - -Mrs. Derwent nodded a tearful assent. - -"And when are we going?" she demanded. - -"To-morrow, if you are well enough." - -"Oh! thank you." - -"But what will you do with your guest?" - -"Mr. Norman? Oh, he will come, too;" but she had the grace to look -apologetic. - -Once outside the room, Mrs. Derwent beckoned me into her _boudoir_. - -"Well, Doctor Fortescue," she exclaimed, "what do you think of that? May -turns on a harmless beggar, who has done nothing to annoy her, and beats -him! She is not at all ashamed of her behaviour, either." - -"I confess, Mrs. Derwent, I am surprised." - -"Oh, she must be crazy," wailed the poor lady. - -"No, madam--simply hysterical--I am sure of it. Still, this makes me -more than ever wishful to have another opinion about her case." - -Before we parted, it had been decided that the choice of suitable rooms -should be left to me. - -Back again in New York, I went immediately in search of them. I was so -difficult to satisfy that it was some time before I selected a suite -overlooking the Park, which seemed to me to answer all demands. - -May and her mother were not expected till the following afternoon, so I -tried to kill the intervening time by making the place look homelike, -and I succeeded, I think. Masses of flowers and palms filled every nook, -and the newest magazines and books lay on the tables. - -I met the ladies at the station, where they parted from Norman, whom I -had begun to regard as inevitable. It was, therefore, with a feeling of -exultation that I drove alone with them to their hotel. - -When May saw the bower I had prepared for her she seemed really pleased, -and thanked me very prettily. - -I left them, after a few minutes, but not until they had promised to -dine with me at a restaurant that evening. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -A SUDDEN FLIGHT - - -One of the many things and people which I am sorry to say my new -occupation as Squire of Dames had caused me to neglect, was poor Madame -Argot. On leaving the Derwents, I determined to call on her at once. To -my surprise, I found Mrs. Atkins there before me. The poor Frenchwoman -was crying bitterly. - -"Look here!" I said, after we had exchanged greetings; "this will never -do. My patient must not be allowed to excite herself in this way." - -"Ah, mais monsieur," she cried, "what vill you? I mus' veep; zink only; -vone veek ago an' I 'appy voman; now all gone. My 'usban', 'e mad, and -zey zay 'e murderer too, but I zay, No, no." - -Mrs. Atkins patted her hand gently. - -"Monsieur Stuah, 'e tell me to go," she continued, "an' I don' know -vere; me not speak English vera good, an' I mus' go alone vid peoples -zat speak no French. Ah, I am a miserable, lonely woman," she sobbed. - -Mrs. Atkins consoled her as best she could, and promised to get her a -congenial place. It was a pretty sight to see the dashing little woman -in that humble bed-room, and I had never admired her so much. When she -got up to leave, I rose also, and, not wishing to pass through Mr. -Stuart's apartments, we left the building by the back way. When we were -in the street, Mrs. Atkins started to walk up town. - -"Are you going for a walk?" I asked. - -"Yes; it is much cooler to-day, and I really must get a little -exercise." - -"Do you mind my joining you?" I inquired. - -"I'd be glad of your company," she answered, cordially. - -"It's terribly sad about that poor woman, isn't it?" she said, as we -sauntered along. - -"It is, indeed," I replied; "and the hospital authorities give no hope -of her husband's recovery." - -"I suppose there is no doubt that he killed the man?" - -Here we were again on this dangerous topic, and I glanced quickly at -her, fearing a repetition of last night's attack. - -She noticed my hesitation, and laughed. - -"Oh, you needn't be so afraid of what you say. I ain't going to faint -again. I want to know the truth, though, and I can't see why you -shouldn't tell me." - -"Well, if you insist upon it," I said, "here it is: I really don't know -whether he is guilty or not; I have been convinced that he was till -very recently, but Merritt (the detective, you know) has always been -sceptical, and maintains that a woman committed the murder." - -"A woman," she repeated, turning her eyes full on me. "But what woman?" - -"Merritt refuses to tell me whom he suspects, but he promises to produce -the fair criminal before next Tuesday." - -We walked on for about a block, when, struck by her silence, I looked at -her, and saw that she had grown alarmingly pale. I cursed myself for my -loquacity, but what could I have done? It is almost impossible to avoid -answering direct questions without being absolutely rude, and as I knew -the detective did not suspect her I really could not see why she should -be so agitated. - -"I guess I'm not very strong," she said; "I'm tired already, and think -I'll go home." - -I wondered if my society had been disagreeable or, at any rate, -inopportune, and had caused her to cut short her walk. - -As we repassed my house, I caught Mrs. Atkins peering apprehensively at -it. I followed the direction of her eyes, but could see nothing unusual. - -When I got back to my office, I found that Atkins had called during my -absence; I was very sorry to have missed him, as he no doubt came to -report what Dr. Hartley had said about his wife. - -That night I was called out to see a patient, and returned home during -the small hours of the morning. I was still some distance from my house -when I distinctly saw the back door of the Rosemere open, and a muffled -figure steal out. I was too far away to be able to distinguish any -details. I could not even be sure whether the figure was that of a man -or a woman. I hastened my steps as I saw it cross the street, but before -I had come within reasonable distance of it, it had disappeared round -the corner. - -The next morning I was aroused at a very early hour by a vigorous -ringing at my bell. Hurrying to the door, I was astonished to find -Atkins there. He was white and trembling. I pulled him into the room and -made him sit down. - -"What is the matter?" I asked, as I went to the sideboard and poured out -a stiff glass of brandy, which I handed him. "Drink that, and you'll -feel better," I said. - -He gulped it down at one swallow. - -"My wife has disappeared." - -"Disappeared!" I repeated. - -He nodded. - -"But when?--how?" - -"I don't know. At dinner yesterday she acted queerly. The tears kept -coming to her eyes without any reason----" - -"Before you go any further," I interrupted him, "tell me if this was -after the doctor had seen her?" - -"Yes, and he practically confirmed all you said. He laid great stress on -her being spared all agitation, and advised a course of baths at -Nauheim." - -"Her tears, then, were probably caused by worrying over her condition," -I said. - -"I don't think so, for the doctor was very careful to reassure her, and -I had not even mentioned that we were to go abroad. No, it was something -else, I'm sure." He paused. I wondered if anything I had said during our -short walk had upset her. - -"I suggested going to a roof garden," continued Atkins, "and she -acquiesced enthusiastically, and after that was over she insisted on a -supper at Rector's. It was pretty late when we got home, and we both -went immediately to bed. Now, I assure you that ever since she fainted -on Wednesday I have been most affectionate towards her. I had determined -to bury my suspicions, and my anxiety for her health helped me to do so. -She responded very tenderly to my caresses, but I could see that she -was still as depressed as before, although she tried her best to hide it -from me. I tell you all this so that you may know that nothing occurred -yesterday between us that could have caused her to leave me, and yet -that is what she has done." - -He buried his head in his arms. I laid my hand on his shoulder. - -"Tell me the rest, old man." - -"The rest?--I woke up a short time ago and was surprised to find my wife -had already left the room. Wondering what could be the matter (for she -is usually a very late riser), I got up also. On the table beside my bed -lay a letter addressed to me in her handwriting. I tore it open. Here it -is," and he handed me a small pink note redolent of the peculiar scent -which I had noticed his wife affected. This is what I read: - - MY DARLING HUSBAND: - - I must leave you. It is best for both. Don't think I'm going - because I don't love you. It isn't that. I love you more than ever. - It breaks my heart to go. Oh, my darling, darling! We have been - happy, haven't we? And now it is all over. Don't look for me, I beg - you. I must hide. Don't tell any one, even the servants, that I - have gone, for two days. Oh, do oblige me in this. I have taken all - the money I could find, $46.00, and some of my jewelry; so I shall - not be destitute. - - Forgive me, and forget me. - - Your loving, heart-broken wife, - LULU. - -After reading the note to the end, I stared at him in speechless -astonishment. - -"What do you think of that?" he asked. - -"Well, really, of all mysterious, incomprehensible----" - -"Exactly," he interrupted, impatiently, "but what am I to do now? It is, -of course, nonsense her telling me not to look for her. I _will_ look -for her and find her, too. But how shall I go about it? O my God, to -think of that little girl sick, unhappy, alone; she will die--" he -cried, starting up. - -"Atkins," I said, after a moment's reflection, "I think the best thing -for you to do is to lay this case before Mr. Merritt." - -"What, the man who was mixed up in the murder? Never!" - -"You can hardly speak of a detective as being mixed up in a murder," I -said. "Every celebrated detective has always several important cases -going at once, one of which is very likely to be a murder. The reason I -suggest Merritt is that I have seen a good deal of him lately, and have -been much impressed by his character as well as his ability. He is a -kindly, honourable, and discreet man, and that is more than can be said -for the majority of his fellows, and, professionally, he stands at -the very top of the ladder. You want to find your wife as quickly as -possible, and at the same time to avoid all publicity. You therefore -must consult a thoroughly reliable as well as competent person." - -"But if I go to Merritt and tell him that my wife has disappeared, I -must also tell of the strange way she has been behaving lately. That -will lead to his discovering that the murdered man was a friend of hers, -and who knows but that he may end by suspecting her of complicity in -his death?--and I acknowledge that her flight lends some colour to that -theory." - -"My dear fellow, he has been aware for some time--since Monday, in -fact--that the dead man visited your wife the very evening he was -killed, and yet, knowing all this, he told me that Mrs. Atkins could not -be connected in the remotest way with the tragedy." - -"He said that!" exclaimed Atkins, with evident relief. - -"He did," I assured him. - -"All right, then; let's go to him at once." - -As soon as I was dressed we got into a cab and drove rapidly to Mr. -Merritt's. We met the detective just going out, but he at once turned -back with us, and we were soon sitting in his little office. Atkins was -so overcome by the situation that I found it necessary to explain our -errand. The detective, on hearing of Mrs. Atkins's flight gave a slight -start. - -"I wish I knew at what time she left home," he said. - -"I think I can help you there,"--and I told him of the person I had seen -stealing from the building, and who I now believed to have been no other -than Mrs. Atkins. - -"Half-past two," he murmured; "I wonder she left as early as that. Where -could she have gone to at that hour! It looks as if she had arranged -her flight beforehand and prepared some place of refuge. Do you know of -any friend in the city she would be likely to appeal to in such an -emergency?" he inquired, turning towards Atkins. - -"No," he replied; "whatever friends she has here have all been -previously friends of mine, and as she has only known them since our -marriage they have not had time to become very intimate yet." - -After asking a few more pertinent questions, Mr. Merritt rose. - -"I think I have all the necessary facts now and will at once order the -search started. I hope soon to have good news for you." - -We all three left the detective's house together, but separated -immediately afterwards. Atkins, haggard and wild-eyed, went off to look -for his wife himself. I had to go to the hospital, and Merritt offered -to accompany me there. - -"Well, what do you think of this latest development?" I asked. - -"I am not surprised." - -"Not surprised!" I exclaimed; "what do you mean?" - -"Just this: I have been expecting Mrs. Atkins to make an attempt to -escape, and have tried to prevent her doing so." - -"How?" I inquired. - -"One of my men has been watching her night and day. He is stationed in -your house, and I am extremely annoyed that he has allowed her to slip -through his fingers, although I must say he has some excuse, for she -certainly managed things very neatly." - -"But Mr. Merritt," I exclaimed, "do you now think Mrs. Atkins guilty?" - -He smiled enigmatically, but said nothing. - -"This is a very serious matter for me," I continued. "After what you -repeatedly said to me, I thought you scouted the probability of her -being in any way implicated in this murder. It was on the strength of -this assurance that I induced Atkins to confide in you. Had I known that -you were having her shadowed I shouldn't, of course, have advised him to -put his case in your hands. I feel dreadfully about this. It is exactly -as if I had betrayed the poor fellow. I must warn him at once." - -I stopped. - -"Don't do anything rash," he urged, laying a detaining hand on my arm. - -"But----" - -"I quite understand your feelings," he continued, looking at me with his -kindly blue eyes. "When I first heard the nature of your errand I felt a -good deal embarrassed. But it was then too late. What I knew, I knew. -I assure you, Doctor, that what I have heard this morning, far from -assisting me to solve the Rosemere mystery, will prove a positive -hindrance to my doing so. I shall no longer feel at liberty to employ -ruse or strategy in my dealings with the lady, and if I find her shall -have to treat her with the utmost consideration." - -"Do you think she murdered the man? Is she the woman whose name you -promised to reveal next Tuesday?" - -"I must decline to answer that question." - -I glanced at him for a minute in silence. - -"If I am not mistaken, this flight will precipitate matters," he went -on, reflectively. "If the right party hears of it, I expect an explosion -will follow." - -"Don't talk in enigmas, Mr. Merritt; either say what you mean or--" I -paused. - -"Hold your tongue," he concluded, with a smile. "You are quite right. -And as I can't say any more at present, I will say nothing. By the way, -I hear Mrs. and Miss Derwent and Mr. Norman are in town." - -"Yes," I curtly assented. "Well, Mr. Merritt," I went on, abruptly -changing the subject, "I must leave you now. I am very much upset by -your attitude towards Mrs. Atkins. I am not yet sure that I shall not -tell her husband. Together, we may perhaps prevent her falling into your -hands." - -The detective smiled indulgently as we parted. I saw now all the harm -I had done. Poor Mrs. Atkins had feared from the first that she might -be suspected, and having discovered that she was being watched, had -naturally been unwilling to leave the protection of her own home. When -Argot was arrested she thought all danger was over, till I stupidly -blurted out that the detective was stalking a woman, not a man. Then she -fled. And she chose the middle of the night, reasoning, no doubt, that -at that hour the sleuth would most likely be off his guard. Since I had -known her and her husband better, I could no longer suspect her, and -I now tried to remember all the arguments Merritt had formerly used -to prove her innocence. Foolish she might have been, but criminal, -never,--I concluded. And it was I who had put her enemies on her track! - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -THAT TACTLESS DETECTIVE - - -Her visit to town had certainly done May no harm. On the day of their -arrival, she and her mother dined with me at the newest thing in -restaurants, and we went afterwards to a roof garden. I had provided a -man of an age suitable to Mrs. Derwent to make up the party, and so the -evening passed pleasantly for all--delightfully for me. For, to my great -relief, May seemed really better. With flushed cheeks and sparkling -eyes, she flitted gaily from one topic to another, and only occasionally -did she give one of her nervous starts. Her good spirits kept up nearly -to the end, when she suddenly sank back into the state of apathy, which, -alas! I knew so well. - -Mrs. Derwent had taken care to inform me that Norman had called late -that afternoon to inquire how they had borne the journey, and had been -surprised to hear that they were dining out. Was this a hint that I -should have invited him also? If so, it was one that I did not mean to -take. Having at last succeeded in parting him from May, I was determined -not to be the one to bring them together again. - -I had decided, in deference to May's morbid horror of seeing a doctor, -that it would be better that her first interview with the nerve -specialist should take place under circumstances which would lead her -to suppose that their meeting was purely accidental. Thinking herself -unnoticed, she would put no restraint on herself, and he would thus be -able to judge much more easily of the full extent of her peculiarities. -Mrs. Derwent and I had therefore arranged that we should all lunch -together on the day following their arrival in town. Atkins's affairs, -however, detained me so long that I was almost late for my appointment, -and when I at last got to the Waldorf, I found the doctor already -waiting for me. - -Luckily, the ladies were also late, so that I had ample time before they -turned up to describe May's symptoms, and to give him a hurried account -of what we knew of her experiences at the Rosemere. When she at last -appeared, very pale, but looking lovelier than ever, in a trailing blue -gown, I saw that he was much impressed by her. Her manner was languid -rather than nervous, and she greeted us both with quiet dignity. -Notwithstanding the object of the lunch, it passed off very pleasantly, -and I am sure no one could have guessed from our behaviour that it was -not a purely social occasion. Doctor Storrs especially was wonderful, -and was soon chatting and laughing with May as if he had known her all -her life. After lunch, Mrs. Derwent and I retired to a distant corner. -The Doctor led the young lady to a window seat, and I was glad to see -that they were soon talking earnestly to each other. I didn't dare -to watch them, for fear she might suspect that we had arranged this -interview. Doctor Storrs kept her there almost an hour, and when they -at last joined us she looked quite ghastly, and her mouth quivered -pathetically. - -As we stood in the hall, waiting for the ladies' sunshades to be -brought, I was astonished and annoyed to see Merritt coming towards us. -He caught Miss Derwent's eye and bowed. She smiled and bowed in return, -which encouraged him to join us. - -"How do you do? I trust you are well," he stammered. He seemed quite -painfully embarrassed, which surprised me, as I should never have -thought him capable of shyness. - -"Quite well, thank you," she answered, graciously, evidently pitying his -confusion. - -"That was a dreadful affair at the Rosemere," he bungled on, twisting -his hat nervously round and round. - -She drew herself up. - -"I suppose the Doctor has told you the latest development of that -affair?" he plunged on, regardless of her stiffness. - -I stared at him in surprise; what was the matter with the man? - -"No," she answered, looking anxiously at me. - -"Well, he's discreet; you see we don't want it to get into the papers--" -he paused, as if waiting to be questioned. - -"What has happened?" struggled through her ashen lips. - -"I don't know if you know Mrs. Atkins," he went on, more glibly; "she's -a young bride, who has an apartment at the Rosemere." - -She shook her head impatiently. - -"Well, this lady has disappeared," he went on, lowering his voice; "and -we very much fear that she has fled because she knew more about that -murder than she should have done." - -Miss Derwent tottered, and steadied herself against a table, but Mr. -Merritt, with surprising denseness, failed to notice her agitation, and -continued: - -"It's very sad for her husband. Such a fine young fellow, and only -married since May! He has been driven almost crazy by her flight. Of -course, it's difficult to pity a murderess, and yet, when I think of -that poor young thing forced to fly from her home in the middle of -the night, I can't help feeling sorry for her. Luckily, she has heart -disease, so that the agitation of being hunted from one place to another -will probably soon kill her. That would be the happiest solution for all -concerned." - -The sunshades having been brought, Mrs. Derwent, after glancing several -times impatiently at her daughter, at last moved towards her, but the -latter motioned her back. - -"Excuse me, Mamma, but I must say a few more words to this gentleman. I -should like to know some more about Mrs. Atkins," she continued, turning -again to the detective. "What made her think she was suspected?" - -"Well, you see, the dead man was a friend of hers, and had been calling -on her the very evening he was murdered. The fellow's name was Allan -Brown, and we have discovered that a good many years ago he was credited -with being one of her admirers. I guess that's true, too; but he was -a worthless chap, and she no doubt turned him down. At all events, he -disappeared from Chicago, and we doubt if she has seen him since. Our -theory is, that when he found out that she was rich, and married, he -tried to blackmail her. We know that he was drunk at the time of his -death, and so we think that, in a fit of desperation, she killed him. It -was a dreadful thing to do. I don't say it wasn't, but if you had seen -her--so small, so ill, so worn by anxiety and remorse--I don't think -you could help wishing she might escape paying the full penalty of her -crime." - -"I do hope so. What is her name, did you say?" - -"Mrs. Lawrence P. Atkins." - -"Mrs. Lawrence P. Atkins," she repeated. "And you cannot find her?" - -"We have not yet been able to do so." - -"This is too dreadful; how I pity the poor husband." And her eyes sought -her mother, and rested on her with an expression I could not fathom. - -The detective stood watching the girl for a moment, then, with a low -bow, finally took himself off. My parting nod was very curt. Could any -one have been more awkward, more tactless, more indiscreet, than he had -been during his conversation with Miss Derwent? Was the man drunk? And -what did he mean by talking about the Atkins's affairs in this way? - -As the girl turned to say good-bye I was struck by a subtle change that -had come over her; a great calm seemed to have settled upon her and a -strange, steady light burnt in her eyes. - -As I was anxious to have a private talk with the Doctor, I jumped into -an automobile with him, for he had only just enough time to catch his -train. - -"Well, Doctor Storrs, what do you think of the young lady's case?" - -"That girl is no more insane than I am, Fortescue. She is suffering from -some terrible shock, but even now she has more self-control than nine -women out of ten. What kind of a shock she has had I don't know, but am -sure it is connected in some way with the Rosemere murder. If you ever -do discover its exact nature, mark my words, you will find she has -been through some ghastly experience and has borne up with amazing -fortitude." - -"What do you think ought to be done for her?" - -"You will find that there is very little that can be done. Something is -still hanging over her, I am sure; in fact she hinted as much to me. -Now, unless we can find out the cause of her trouble and remove it, -it is useless to look for an amelioration of her condition. In the -meantime, let her have her head. She knows what she has to struggle -against; we don't." - -"It's all very mysterious, but I wish we could help her." - -We had now reached his destination, and, with a hurried farewell, he -disappeared into the station. - -I had promised Mrs. Derwent to let her know immediately the result of my -talk with Storrs, so, without alighting, I drove at once to the hotel. -In order to avoid arousing May's suspicions by calling so soon again, -Mrs. Derwent had agreed to meet me in the hotel parlour. I told her as -briefly as I could what the Doctor had said. When I had finished, I saw -that she was struggling with conflicting emotions. - -"What can have happened to her? Oh, it is all so dreadful that I don't -know what to think or fear." - -"Can't you get your daughter to confide in you?" - -"I will try," she murmured, as the large tears stole down her white -cheeks, and, rising, she held out her long slender hand, on which -sparkled a few handsome rings. As she stood there--tall, stately, still -beautiful, in spite of her sufferings, her small, classic head crowned -with a wreath of silvery hair--she looked like some afflicted queen, and -I pitied her from the bottom of my heart. But was not my distress as -great as hers! - -On leaving the poor lady I hurried back to my office, where I found -Atkins sitting in a miserable heap. He looked so dreadfully ill that I -was alarmed. - -"Have you had anything to eat to-day?" I asked. He shook his head in -disgust. Without another word, I rang for my boy, and in a quarter of an -hour a very passable little meal was spread on my table. - -"Now, eat that," I said. He frowned, and shook his head. - -"Atkins, you are behaving like a child; you must not fall ill now, or -what will become of your wife?" - -He hesitated a minute, then sat obediently down. I drew up a chair also, -and, by playing with some fruit, pretended to be sharing his meal. The -more I watched him the more I became convinced that something must be -done to relieve the tension under which he suffered. A new emotion might -serve the purpose; so I said: - -"I have just found out some interesting facts about the murdered man." - -He dropped his knife and fork. - -"What?" he gasped. - -"Nothing at all derogatory to your wife, I assure you; I am more than -ever convinced that a frank talk would have cleared up your little -misunderstanding long ago." - -"Really?" - -"Yes, and I'll tell you the whole story, only you must eat." - -He fell to with feverish haste, his hollow eyes fixed on my face. - -"Your wife's visitor was not a friend of hers, and Merritt (here I -strained a point) is sure she has not met him for years. He used to be -one of her admirers till she refused to see him, and then he left -Chicago and has not been seen there since; but he has a bad record in -several other cities. The night he was killed he came to your apartment -drunk, and the detective thinks he probably tried to get money from your -wife. It seems to me natural that she should have concealed his visit. -He was not a guest to be proud of, and, besides, she may have been -afraid of rousing your jealousy, for you are pretty jealous, you know." - -"What a crazy fool I have been; I deserve to lose her. But," he -inquired, with renewed suspicion, "why has she run away?" - -"Because she found out that the fact that the dead man had gone to the -Rosemere to see her had become known to the police, for when I saw her -yesterday afternoon I blurted out that the detective did not believe in -Argot's guilt, but was on the track of some female. She at once jumped -to the conclusion that he suspected her, and decided to fly before she -could be apprehended, and so save her life and your honour." - -"Well, Doctor," he cried, pushing his plate away, "I feel better. Your -news is such a relief. I must now be off again. I can't rest. Oh, how I -wish I might be the one to find my little girl!" - -"I do hope you will; only don't be disappointed if you are not -immediately successful; New York is a big place, remember. But till you -do find your wife I wish that instead of going back to your apartment -you would stay here with me; we are both alone, and would be company for -each other." - -"Thank you; if I don't find her, I'll accept your offer. You're awfully -kind, Doctor." - -The poor fellow turned up again, footsore and weary, at about twelve -that night. He was too exhausted by that time to suffer much, but I gave -him a sedative so as to make sure of his having a good sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -ONE WOMAN EXONERATED - - -Atkins and I were still at breakfast when, to my surprise, the detective -was announced. - -Atkins started to his feet. - -"Any news of my wife?" he inquired, anxiously. - -"None, I regret to say," answered Merritt. - -I was still very much annoyed with him for having been so indiscreet and -tactless in his interview with May Derwent, but he looked so dejected -that my anger melted a little. - -Atkins left us almost immediately, and started on his weary search. When -he was gone, I motioned Merritt to take his place. - -"Have you had any breakfast?" - -"Well, not much, I confess. I was in such a hurry to hear whether -anything had been heard of Mrs. Atkins or not that I only gulped down a -cup of coffee before coming here." - -"You must have something at once," I urged. "Here's some beefsteak and -I'll ring for the boy to----" - -"Hold on a moment. Are you very sure the hatchet is buried?" he -inquired, with a quizzical smile. - -"For the time being, certainly," I laughed. "But I reserve the right of -digging it up again unless things turn out as I wish them to." - -A sad look came over his face. - -"Ah, Doctor, things so rarely do turn out just as one wishes them to!" - -"And now, Merritt," I demanded, when, breakfast being over, we had -lighted our cigars, "will you kindly tell me what made you talk as you -did yesterday to Miss Derwent?" - -"I had a purpose." - -"What possible good could it do to remind Miss Derwent of an incident -which all her friends are most anxious to have her forget?" - -"It may do no good." - -"Do you think you have the right to harrow a delicate girl -unnecessarily?" - -"Have a little patience, Doctor; I am not a brute!" - -"And to talk of Mrs. Atkins as you did! Don't you know that her husband -especially wishes to keep her flight secret?" - -"I know. But Miss Derwent is no gossip." - -"How do you know?" - -"Hold on, Doctor; I'm not in the witness box yet. Can't you wait a day -or two?" - -A commotion in the hall put an end to our conversation. Merritt and I -looked at each other. Could that be Atkins's voice which we heard? -Indeed it was; and the next minute the man himself appeared, beaming -with happiness, and tenderly supporting his wife. Pale and dishevelled, -staggering slightly as she walked, she was but the wreck of her former -self. Her husband laid her on a divan and, kneeling down beside her, -murmured indistinguishable words of remorse and love. She lay quite -still, her eyes closed, her breath coming in short gasps. I rushed off -for some brandy, which I forced down her throat. That revived her, and -she looked about her. When her eyes fell on the detective, she cried -aloud and tried to struggle to her feet, but her husband put his arm -around her and pulled her down again. - -"Don't be afraid of him. He's all right." - -"Really?" - -She seemed but half reassured. - -"You can trust me, I promise you," said the detective. "We are all quite -sure you had nothing to do with the man's death. Only we must find out -who he was, and when and how he left you. If you will tell us all that -occurred, it may help us to discover the criminal." - -"Did you know, Larrie, that the man came to the building to see me?" - -Atkins nodded. - -"And you are not angry?" - -"No, indeed! Tell us all about it." - -"Oh, I will, I will! I could never be real happy with a secret between -us." She paused a moment. "Well, his name was Allan Brown, and years and -years ago, when I was nothing but a silly girl, I fancied myself in love -with him, and--and--I married him." - -Atkins started back, and I feared for a moment that he would say or do -something which neither of them would ever be able to forget. But the -past two days had taught him a lesson; the agony he had been through was -still fresh in his mind; so, after a short struggle with himself, he -took his wife's hand in his, and gently pressed it. The pretty blush, -the happy smile, the evident relief with which she looked at him must -have amply repaid him for his self-control. - -"He treated me just shamefully," she continued, "and after three weeks -of perfect misery, I left him. Pa at once began proceedings for a -divorce, and, as Allan didn't contest it, it was granted me very -shortly. I resumed my maiden name, and went back to live with my father. -My experience of married life had been so terrible that I couldn't bear -ever to think or speak of it. Years went by without anything occurring -to remind me of my former husband, and I had almost succeeded in -forgetting that there was such a person, when I met you, Larrie. The -idea of marrying again had always been so abhorrent to me that I did -not at first realise where we were drifting to, and you were such an -impetuous wooer that I found myself engaged to you without having had -any previous intention of becoming so. Of course, I ought then to have -told you that I had been married before; there was nothing disgraceful -in the fact, and you had a right to know it. Only, somehow, I just -couldn't bear to let the memory of that hateful experience sully my new -happiness, even for a moment; so I kept putting off telling you from -day to day till the time went by when I could have done so, easily and -naturally. At last, I said to myself: Why need Larrie ever know? Only a -few of my old friends heard of my unfortunate marriage, and they were -little likely ever to refer to the fact before you. It was even doubtful -if you ever would meet any of them, as we were to live in New York. So I -decided to hold my tongue. And all went well till one morning, a little -over a fortnight ago. I was walking carelessly down Broadway, stopping -occasionally to look in at some shop window, when a man suddenly halted -in front of me. It was Allan Brown. I knew him at once, although he -had altered very much for the worse. I remembered him a tall, athletic -young man with fine, clear-cut features and a ruddy brown complexion. He -was always so fussy about his clothes, that we used to call him 'Wales.' -And now his coat was unbrushed, his boots were unblackened. He had -grown fat; his features had become bloated, and his skin had a pasty, -unhealthy look. I was so taken aback at his suddenly appearing like a -ghost from my dead past, that I stood perfectly still for a minute. -Then, as I realised the full extent of his impudence in daring to stop -me, I tried to brush past him. - -"'Not so fast, my dear, not so fast; surely a husband and wife, meeting -after such a long separation, should at least exchange a few words -before drifting apart again.' - -"'You are no husband of mine,' I cried. - -"'Really,' he exclaimed, lifting his eyebrows carelessly; 'since when -have I ceased to be your husband, I should like to know?' - -"That just took my breath away. - -"'For ten years, thank God,' said I. - -"'Well, it's always good to thank God,' and his wicked eyes smiled -maliciously at me; 'only in this case he is receiving what he has not -earned.' - -"'What do you mean?' I asked. - -"'That I have never ceased to be your husband, my dear.' - -"'It's a lie, it's a lie!' I cried, but my knees began to tremble; 'I've -been divorced from you for the last ten years, and don't you dare to -pretend you don't know it.' - -"'I needn't pretend at all, as it happens, for this is the first I ever -have heard of it; and so, my dear wife, be very careful not to make -another man happy on the strength of that divorce, for if you do, you -may find yourself in a very awkward position, to say the least of it.' - -"I looked at him. His manner had all the quiet assurance I remembered so -well. Could what he said be true? Was it possible that my divorce was -not legal? Father had said it was all right, but he might be mistaken, -and, in that case, what should I do? My perturbation must have been -written very plainly on my face, for, after watching me a minute in -silence, he continued. 'Ah, I see that is what you have done--and who is -my unlucky successor, if I may ask?' - -"Now, I knew that he was capable of any deviltry, and, if he found out -that I had married again, it would be just like him to go to you, and -make a scene, just for the pleasure of annoying us. Besides, as I had -not told you of my first marriage, it would be dreadful if you should -hear of it from Allan Brown, of all people. You would never forgive me -in that case, I felt sure. So I lifted my head; 'I have no husband,' -said I. - -"But he only smiled sarcastically at me, as he calmly lit a cigarette. - -"'Prevarication, my dear lady, is evidently not your forte. Out with -it. What is the name of the unhappy man? I only call him unhappy (_bien -entendu_) because he is about to lose you.' - -"'I'm not married,' I repeated. - -"'I know you are married, and I mean to find out who to, if I have to -follow you all day.' - -"I had been walking rapidly along, hoping to shake him off, but he had -persistently kept pace with me. Now I stopped. A policeman was coming -towards us. In my desperation, I decided to ask him to arrest Allan -for annoying me. The latter guessed my intention, and said: 'Oh, no; -I wouldn't do that; I should inform him of the fact that you are my -wife--an honour you seem hardly to appreciate, by the way--and you -would have to accompany me to the police station, where our conflicting -stories would no doubt arouse much interest, and probably be considered -worthy of head-lines in the evening papers. Do you think the man you are -now living with would enjoy your acquiring notoriety in such a way? Eh?' - -"'Well,' I cried, 'what is it you want?' - -"'The opportunity of seeing you again, that is all; you must acknowledge -that I am very moderate in my demands. I do not brutally insist on my -rights.' - -"'But why--why do you wish to see me again?' I asked. - -"'You are surprised that I should want to see my wife again? Really, you -are so--so modern.' - -"'Don't talk nonsense,' I said (for all this fooling made me mad). 'What -do you want? Tell me at once.' - -"'Really, my dear lady, since you are so insistent, I will be quite -frank with you; I really don't know. I am enjoying this meeting -extremely, and I think another may afford me equal pleasure.' - -"'You devil!' - -"'You never did appreciate me. Well, are you going to tell me what you -now call yourself, or are we going to continue walking about together -all day?' - -"'I am Mrs. Henry Smith,' I said, at last. - -"'H'm! Smith--not an unusual name, is it? Not much of an improvement on -Brown, eh? And your address?' - -"'The Waldorf,' I answered, naming the first place that came into my -head. - -"'How convenient! I am staying there also; so, instead of discussing -our little differences in the street, let us drive back to the hotel at -once,' and, before I realised what he was doing, he had hailed a cab. I -started back. - -"'Don't make a scene in public,' he commanded, and his manner became -suddenly so fierce that I was fairly frightened, and obeyed him -automatically. A moment later I was being driven rapidly up town. - -"'I don't live at the Waldorf,' I at last acknowledged, as we were -nearing Thirty-third street. - -"'Of course not, and your name isn't Smith; I know that; but where shall -I tell the coachman to drive to?' - -"There was no help for it; I had to give my real address. - -"'And now let us decide when I shall call on you. I don't mind selecting -a time when my rival is out. You see, I am very accommodating--at -present,' he added, significantly. - -"What was I to do? I dared not refuse him. I knew you would be out of -town the following evening, so agreed to see him then. He did not follow -me into the Rosemere, as I was afraid he might, but drove quickly off. -I wrote and telegraphed at once to Pa, asking him to make sure that my -divorce was perfectly legal. I hoped that I might receive a reassuring -answer before the time set for my interview with Brown, in which case -I should simply refuse to receive him and confess to you my previous -marriage as soon as you returned. Then I should have nothing more to -dread from him. That day and the next, however, went by without a word -from Father. I couldn't understand his silence. It confirmed my worst -fears. As the time when I expected my tormentor drew near, I became -more and more nervous. I feared and hoped I knew not what from this -meeting. I told both my girls they might go out, as I did not wish them -to know about my expected visitor, and then regretted I had left myself -so unprotected. So I got out my Smith & Wesson, and carefully loaded -it. I can shoot pretty straight, and Allan was quite aware of that -fact, I am glad to say; so I felt happier. He was so very late for his -appointment, that I had begun to hope he was not coming at all, when -the door-bell rang. As soon as I had let him in I saw that he had been -drinking. Strangely enough, that reassured me somewhat; I felt that I -and my pistol stood a better chance of being able to manage him in that -condition than when that fiendish brain of his was in proper working -order. He no longer indulged in gibes and sarcasms, but this time did -not hesitate to demand hush money. - -"'What is your price?' I asked. - -"'A thousand dollars.' - -"Of course, I had no such sum, nor any way of obtaining it. I told him -so. - -"'What rot! Why, those rings you've got on are worth more than that.' - -"'Those rings were given to me by my husband, and if I part with them he -will insist on knowing what has become of them.' - -"'I don't care about that,' he said, settling himself deeper into his -chair; 'either you give me that money or I stay here till your lover -returns.' - -"I knew him to be capable of it. - -"'Look here,' said I, 'I can't get you a thousand dollars, so that's all -there is about it; but if you'll take some jewelry that Pa gave me, and -which I know is worth about that, I'll give it you on condition that -you sign a paper, saying that you have blackmailed me, and that your -allegations are quite without foundation.' - -"'I won't take your jewelry on any consideration,' he answered. 'What -should I do with it? if I sold it I could only get a trifle of what it -is worth, besides running the risk of being supposed to have stolen it. -No, no, my lady; it must be cash down or no deal.' - -"After a great deal of further altercation, he agreed to wait -twenty-four hours for his money. I was to employ this respite in trying -to sell my jewelry, but if by the following evening I had failed -to raise a thousand dollars he swore he would sell my story to the -newspapers. He told me that he had an appointment in Boston the next -morning, and that he had not enough money to pay his expenses. So he -made me give him all the cash there was in the house. Luckily, I had -very little. Before leaving, he lurched into the dining-room and poured -himself out a stiff drink of whiskey. - -"'Now, mind that you have that money by to-morrow evening, do you hear? -And don't think I shan't be back in time to keep my appointment with -you, for I shall. Never miss a date with a pretty woman, even if she -does happen to be your wife, is my motto,' and with that final shot he -departed. As the elevator had stopped running, I told him he would have -to walk down-stairs. I stood for a moment watching him reel from side -to side, and I wondered at the time if he would ever get down without -breaking his neck. Not that I cared much, I confess; and that was the -last I saw of him alive. The next day was spent in trying to raise that -thousand dollars. The pawn brokers offered me an absurdly small sum -for my jewelry, and wanted all sorts of proof that it was really my -property. I tried to borrow from an acquaintance (I have no friends -in New York), but she refused, and intimated that your wife could not -possibly be in need of money except for an illegitimate purpose. She was -quite right, and I liked her no less for her distrust of me. At last I -made up my mind that it was impossible to raise the sum he demanded, and -returned home determined to brazen it out. Still, no news from Father. -What could be the reason of his silence, I wondered; any answer would be -better than no answer. - -"I braced myself to meet Allan, hopeless but resigned. However, hour -after hour went by and still no sign of him. When eleven o'clock struck -without his having put in an appearance, I knew that a respite had been -mercifully granted me. I was expecting you home very shortly, so thought -I'd sit up for you. However, the fatigue and excitement of the last few -days proved too much for me, and I fell asleep on the sofa. I had been -longing for you all day, and fully intended to tell you the dreadful -news as soon as I saw you. But somehow or other, when at last you -did arrive you seemed so distant and cold that I weakly put off my -confession till a more favourable moment." - -Atkins hung his head. - -"The next morning, when there was still no news of my persecutor, I -began to breathe more freely. I was told that there had been an accident -in the building, but that Allan Brown was the victim never occurred to -me. Imagine my horror and consternation when, on being shown the corpse, -I recognised my first husband. A thousand wild conjectures as to the -cause of his death flashed through my mind, and when I heard that he had -been murdered I feared for one awful moment that you might have met him -and killed him either in anger or self-defence. When I learned that the -crime had been committed on Tuesday I was inexpressibly relieved. For on -that day you had not even been in New York. My next anxiety was lest the -fact that the dead man had come to the building to see me should become -known. When asked if I recognised the corpse I lied instinctively, -unthinkingly. It was a crazy thing for me to have done, for I should -have been instantly detected if it had not been for the surprising -coincidence that Greywood (that's his name, isn't it), who had also been -in the building that evening, so closely resembled my visitor. But I -knew nothing of this, and had no intention of casting suspicion on any -one else when I so stoutly denied all knowledge of the man. The -Coroner's cross-questioning terrified me, for I was sure he suspected me -of knowing more than I cared to say. But when that ordeal was over, and -I was again within my own four walls, I could feel nothing but extreme -thankfulness that the evil genius of my life was removed from my path -at last. My only remaining fear was lest I should be suspected of his -death. I imagined that I was being shadowed, and fancied that a man was -stationed in the flat above the Doctor's, who watched this house night -and day. Was that so, Mr. Merritt?" - -"Yes'm." - -"As the days went by I only became more nervous. The mystery of the -thing preyed on my mind. The thought that I must be living under the -same roof with a murderer gave me the creeps. Therefore, you can -understand what a relief the butler's arrest was to me. But my joy did -not last long. I met you, Doctor, and you let out that Mr. Merritt did -not believe the Frenchman guilty, but was sure that a young woman had -killed Allan. These words revived all my fears for my own safety. I -was convinced that my former relation to the murdered man had been -discovered, and that I should be accused of his death. I could not bring -such disgrace on you, Larrie, so determined to fly if possible before I -was arrested. As you know, I left the house in the middle of the night, -and I hid under a stoop in a neighbouring side-street till morning. -All day long I wandered aimlessly about. I didn't dare to leave the -city, for I was sure the trains would be watched. I daresn't go to -a hotel without luggage. Towards evening I got desperate. Seeing a -respectable-looking woman toiling along, with a baby on one arm and a -parcel in the other, I stopped her. I begged her to tell me of some -quiet place where I could spend the night. Having assured her that I -was not unprovided with money, she gladly consented to take me to her -own home. All she had to offer was a sofa, but, my! how glad I was to -lie down at all. But the heat, the smell, the shouting and cursing of -drunken brutes, prevented me from sleeping, and this morning I felt so -ill I thought I should die. The desire to look once more at the house -where I had been so happy grew stronger and stronger. At last I -couldn't resist it. So I came, although I knew all the time I should be -caught." - -"And were you sorry to be caught?" asked her husband. - -"No--o--," she answered, as she looked at the detective, apprehensively. -"If I'm not to be imprisoned." - -"Pray reassure yourself on that score, madam. The worst that will -happen to you is that you will have to repeat part of your story at the -inquest. No one can suspect you of having killed the man. The body must -have been hidden somewhere for twenty-four hours, and in your apartment -there is no place you could have done this, except possibly in the small -coat closet under the stairs. But your waitress swears that she cleaned -that very closet on the morning after the murder. Neither were you able -as far as I can see to procure a key to the vacant apartment. No, madam, -you will have absolutely no difficulty in clearing yourself." - -"But the disgrace--the publicity----" - -"There is no disgrace and hang the publicity," exclaimed Atkins. - -"You forgive me?" - -Atkins kissed her hand. - -"But, darling, that divorce?" he asked, under his breath. - -"Oh, I heard from Pa about a week ago. He had been travelling about and -hadn't had his mail forwarded. That was the reason why I had had no -answer to my numerous telegrams and letters. He says, however, that my -divorce is O. K., so you can't get rid of me after all." - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -THE TRUTH OF THE WHOLE MATTER - - -The Atkinses had departed, and Merritt and I were again alone. - -"Well," I exclaimed, "the Rosemere mystery doesn't seem any nearer to -being solved, does it?" - -"You ought to be satisfied with knowing that your friend, Mrs. Atkins, -is exonerated." - -"Of that I am heartily glad; but who can the criminal be?" - -The detective shrugged his shoulders. - -"You don't know?" I asked. - -"Haven't an idea," he answered. - -"But what about that pretty criminal you've been talking so much about?" - -"Well, Doctor, to tell you the truth this case has proved one too many -for me. You see," he went on, settling himself more comfortably in his -chair, "there isn't enough evidence against any one to warrant our -holding them an hour. Mrs. Atkins knew the man and had a motive for -killing him, but had no place in which to secrete the body, nor did she -make any effort to obtain that key. Against Argot the case is stronger. -One of the greatest objections to the theory that it was he who murdered -Brown is that, as far as we can find out, the man was a perfect stranger -to him. But as he did not know his wife's lover by sight, it seems to -me not impossible that he may have mistaken Brown for the latter, and -thought that in killing him he was avenging his honour. The Frenchman -is also one of the few persons who could have abstracted the key of the -vacant apartment. On the other hand, it would have been impossible for -him to have either secreted or disposed of the body without his wife's -knowledge. And unless Madame Argot is an actress and a liar of very -unusual talent, I am willing to swear that she knew and knows nothing of -the crime!" - -"I am sure of it," I assented. - -"Furthermore, I can think of no way by which Argot could have run across -Brown. He would naturally follow the man whom he believed to be his -wife's lover, and not only did Madame Argot tell you that her husband -ran out the back way in pursuit of her cousin, but that seems to me the -thing which he would most likely do. And yet, having left by that door, -he could not possibly have got into the house again unperceived. -Therefore, I cannot imagine how he could have met Allan Brown. No, -there is really not a scrap of real evidence against the Frenchman. Now, -there remains Miss Derwent. She could easily have obtained the key; she -could also have hidden the body. But there is absolutely nothing to -connect her with the murder, or the victim--nothing. And yet, Doctor, I -have always believed that she knew more about this crime than she was -willing to acknowledge, and I may as well tell you now that the reason I -took such pains to inform Miss Derwent of Mrs. Atkins's plight, was that -I thought that, rather than allow an innocent person to suffer, she -would reveal the name of the true author of the crime. You see, I had -exhausted every means of discovering her secret, without the least -result. My only hope of doing so now lay with her. But my ruse failed. -She has given no sign, although, for aught she knows, Mrs. Atkins may be -languishing in a prison, or is being hunted from house to house or from -city to city. I am therefore forced to believe that Miss Derwent's -mysterious secret has absolutely nothing to do with the Rosemere -murder." - -"I have always been sure of it." - -"But the fact remains that the man was killed. And yet every person who -could by any possibility have committed the crime has practically been -proved guiltless. I'm getting old." And he sighed deeply. - -"So you have given the case up!" - -"No, sirree. But I confess I'm not very hopeful. If I failed to pick up -a clue while the scent was fresh, there ain't much chance of my doing it -now. So I guess you've won your bet, Doctor," he went on, as he pulled a -roll of bills out of his pocket. - -"Certainly not. I bet that a man committed the crime, and that has not -been proved, either." - -"That's so! Well, good-day, Doctor. Hope I'll see you again. I tell you -what, you should have been on the force." And so we parted. - -He had hardly shut the door behind him, when my boy came in with a note. -The handwriting was unknown to me. I tore the envelope open, and threw -it down beside me. This is what I read: - - DEAR DR. FORTESCUE, - - I am in great trouble and beg you to come to me as soon as you - possibly can. - - Sincerely yours, - MAY DERWENT. - -"Any answer, sir?" - -"No." I should be there as soon as the messenger. - -I was so dreadfully alarmed that I felt stunned for a moment. Pulling -myself together, I started to my feet, when my eyes fell on the -envelope, lying beside my plate. A large crest was emblazoned on its -back. I stood spell-bound, for that crest was, alas, not unfamiliar to -me. I could not be mistaken--it was identical with the one engraved on -the sleeve-link which had been found on the body of the murdered man. -What did this similarity mean? Was it possible that the victim's real -name was Derwent? That would account for the coincidence of the two -Allans, and all I knew of one was equally applicable to the other. -Merritt had told me that Brown was supposed to have been born a -gentleman, and often posed as an Englishman of title. But if the corpse -was indeed that of her brother, why had May not recognised it? No, the -probabilities were, as the detective had said, that the crest meant -nothing. - -Still deeply perturbed, I hastened to the hotel. On giving my name I was -at once ushered into the Derwent's private sitting-room. It was empty, -but a moment later May appeared. She was excessively pale, and heavy -dark rings encircled her eyes. I longed to take her in my arms, but all -I dared to do was to detain her small hand in mine till after several -efforts on her part to free herself--very gentle efforts, however--I -finally relinquished it. - -"It is kind of you to come so soon." - -"You knew I would come the moment I received your message." - -"I hoped so. All night long I have lain awake, praying for courage to -make a confession, knowing all the time that if I do so it will break -my mother's heart." - -"Your mother's heart!" I repeated, bewildered. - -"It must be done, it is right that it should be done--but I can't do it. -I have, therefore, decided to tell you the whole story, and then you can -repeat it to her very gently, very calmly, which I could not do. And you -will remain to comfort her when I am gone, won't you?" - -"Don't talk in this way," I commanded, forcibly possessing myself of her -hands. "You are not going to die." - -"Don't touch me," she entreated, tearing herself away from me. "You -won't want to, when you know the truth. I have not only committed a -dreadful crime, but have allowed an innocent person to suffer in my -stead. I should have confessed to the detective yesterday that I knew -Mrs. Atkins had not killed the man, because--because--I myself killed -him." - -I was so overcome with horror and surprise at hearing this confession, -that for a moment I was paralysed. - -"My poor darling," I exclaimed at last, "how did this accident occur?" - -She had evidently expected me to express horror and indignation, and -that I did not do so was such an unexpected relief, that the poor child -burst into tears. This time she did not repulse me. When she had become -a little calmer, she said: - -"I am glad that there is one person at least who, hearing that -admission, does not at once believe me guilty of a dreadful crime. -Oh, I assure you, I swear to you, that I never meant to kill -the--the--fellow." She shuddered. - -"Of course you didn't. Tell me all about it, and let me see if I can't -help you in some way." - -A faint gleam of hope shot across her face. - -"It is a long story," she began. "You remember that I told the Coroner -about a certain gentleman who called on me on that fatal Tuesday -evening?" - -"Yes." - -"Well, that was all true. Mr. Greywood (for, of course, you now know -that that was my visitor's name) and I quarrelled (no matter why), and -we parted in anger. This is no news to you. What happened later is what -I have tried so hard to conceal. Mr. Greywood had hardly left when I was -startled by a violent ringing at the door-bell. Thinking that it was my -late visitor who had returned, to apologise, probably, I hurried to the -door, and incautiously opened it. In the dim light, the man before me -resembled Mr. Greywood so closely that I did not doubt that it was he, -and moved aside to allow him to enter. As he did so, he pushed roughly -against me. I stared at him in astonishment, and to my horror, -discovered that I was face to face with a perfect stranger. The fellow -banged the door behind him, and stood with his back against it. He was -mumbling something I couldn't catch, and his head rolled alarmingly from -side to side. That the man was insane was the only thing that occurred -to me, and as I realised that I was locked into an apartment with a -lunatic, I became panic-stricken, and lost my head. Instead of making a -dash for the upper floor, where I could either have barricaded myself -into one of the bed rooms, or perhaps have managed to escape by the back -stairs, I stupidly ran into the drawing-room, which is only shut off -from the hall by portières, and has no other outlet. The brute, of -course, followed me, and stood in the door way, barring my exit. I was -caught like a rat in a trap. He lurched in my direction, muttering -imprecations. His speech was so thick that I could only understand a -word here and there. I made out, however, that he wished me to give him -something that night, which, he said, I had promised to let him have the -next day. As he staggered toward me, I uttered a piercing shriek, but -even as I did so, I knew that there was little or no chance of anybody's -hearing me. The building was almost empty, and the street at that hour -practically deserted. - -"In the middle of our room opposite the fire place, stands a large -sofa. When his eyes fell upon that he paused a minute. 'Perhaps I'll go -to bed,' I heard him say, and forthwith he proceeded to take off his -coat and waistcoat. Meanwhile, I was cowering near the window. As he had -apparently forgotten me, I began to hope that I might possibly succeed -in creeping past him unobserved. But, unfortunately, as I was attempting -to do so, my skirt caught in something, and I fell forward on my hands -and knees. The noise attracted his attention, and he paused in his -undressing to look at me. I sprang to my feet. We stared at each other -for a few seconds, and I thought I saw a ray of comprehension come into -his dull eyes. 'I don't think I ever met this lady before,' he mumbled. - -"He tried to pull himself together, and made me an awkward bow. I stood -perfectly still. The wretch smiled horridly at me. Of course, I now see -that I ought to have humoured him, instead of which I was injudicious -enough to meet his advances with a fierce scowl. That apparently -infuriated the fellow, for he sprang towards me, cursing loudly. I had -not thought him capable of such agility, so was unprepared for the -attack. He caught my wrist. I tried to wrench it from him, but he was -very strong, and I soon realised that I was quite powerless in his -grasp. Yet I would not give in, but continued to struggle fiercely. Oh, -it was too awful!" - -The unfortunate girl paused a moment and covered her face with her -hands, as if she were trying to shut out the memory of that terrible -scene. - -"At last the end came. He had got me into a corner. Escape was -impossible. My back was against the wall, and in front of me towered the -wretch, his hands on my shoulders, his poisoned breath blowing into my -face. Now, remember, before you blame me for what followed, that I was -perfectly desperate. As I glanced frantically around, hoping against -hope to find some way out of my awful situation, my eyes fell upon a -hat-pin, which lay on a table by my side, well within reach of my right -hand. It was sticking in my hat, which I had carelessly thrown down -there when I came in from dinner a few hours before. It may be that its -design, which was that of a dagger, suggested my putting it to the use I -did. I don't know. At any rate, I seized it, and managed to get it in -between me and my assailant, with its sharp point pressing against his -chest. By this time I had become convinced that the man was simply -intoxicated, and, hoping to frighten him, I cried: 'Let me go. If you -don't, I will kill you.' Yes, I said that; I acknowledge it. But I had -no real intention of doing such a thing. I didn't even dream that I held -in my hand a weapon. What happened then I don't quite know. Whether -he tripped over something, or whether he was so drunk that he lost his -balance, I can't tell. At all events, he fell heavily against me. If I -had not been braced against the wall he certainly would have knocked me -down. As it was, I was stunned for a minute. Recovering myself, I pushed -him from me with all my strength. He reeled back, staggered a few steps, -and then, to my surprise, fell flat upon the floor. As I stood staring -at him, too frightened still to take advantage of this opportunity -to escape, I heard a queer rattling in his throat. What could be the -matter, I wondered, and what was that sticking out of his shirt, right -over his heart? Could it be my hat-pin? I looked down at my hands; they -were empty. Slowly the truth dawned upon me. I rushed to his side, -looked into his glazing eyes, saw the purple fade from his face, and a -greenish hue creep into its place. As the full horror of my position was -borne in upon me, I thought I should go mad. I seized the pin and tried -to drag it out, actuated by an unreasoning hope that if I could only -extract it from the wound the man might even yet revive. But my hands -must have been paralysed with fear, for, although I tugged and tugged, -I failed to move it. At last, after an especially violent effort, I -succeeded in pulling it out, but unfortunately in doing so the head -broke off. I peered again at the man. Still no sign of life, but I could -not, would not believe the worst. Overcoming my horror of the fellow, I -bent down and shook his arm. I shall never forget the sensation it gave -me to touch him. I could doubt the awful truth no longer: the man was -dead, and I had killed him. Then for a time I lost consciousness. -Unfortunately I am young and strong, and soon revived. When I did so I -found myself lying on the floor not a foot away from that horrible thing -that had so lately been a man. I feared him as much dead as alive, and, -staggering to my feet, I fled from the room. Oh, the darkness, the -frightful darkness which confronted me everywhere! In my terror of it -I rushed hither and thither, leaving the electric light shining in my -wake. I felt I must know, that I must be able to see, that he, who would -never stir again, was not still following me. Stumbling up stairs in my -haste, I locked myself into my bedroom. There I tried to think, but all -I could do was to crouch, trembling, behind the door, listening for I -knew not what. Several times I thought I heard footsteps stealing softly -up the stairs. - -"At last, the day dawned and brought with it comparative calm. I was -now able to consider my position. It was, indeed, a desperate one. -What should I do? Whom could I appeal to? My mother? Another helpless -woman--never! Then Mr. Norman occurred to me. I felt I could rely on -him. He would save me if any one could. I decided to go to him as soon -as possible. I knew that I must be most careful not to do anything -which might arouse suspicion. I, therefore, made up my mind not to -leave the house before half-past seven at the earliest. I could then be -supposed to be going out to breakfast. The hours crept wearily by. I -watched the hot, angry sun rise superbly above the horizon, and fancied -that it glared contemptuously down on my ruined life. To make matters -worse, my watch had stopped, and I had to guess at the time by the -various signs of reawakening which I could observe in the street beneath -me. At last I decided that I might safely venture forth. Burning with -impatience to be gone, I turned towards the door. Suddenly I remembered -that my hat still lay in the room below. I started back, trembling in -every limb. Never, never should I have the courage to enter there alone. -Then I thought of the alternative. Summoning the police--the awful -publicity, a prison cell and perhaps finally--no, no, I couldn't face -that. Anything rather than that. No one will ever know how I felt as I -slowly unlocked my door. My teeth chattered notwithstanding the heat, -and half-fainting with terror I staggered down-stairs. Everywhere the -lights still glowed feebly--sickly reminders of the horrors of the -night. I don't remember how I got into the drawing-room, but the -scene that greeted my eyes there can never be erased from my memory. -The blazing August sun shone fiercely down on the disordered room, -mercilessly disclosing the havoc which the recent struggle had wrought. -In the midst of this confusion, that ghastly, silent object lay, gaping -at the new day. His sightless eyes seemed to stare reproachfully at me. -I turned quickly away. This was no time for weakness. If I indulged my -fears I should be unable to accomplish what I had to do. Fixing my eyes -on the thing I was in search of, I walked steadily past the corpse, but, -having once seized what I had come for, I rushed frantically from the -room and the apartment. The heavy outer door securely fastened behind -me, made a sufficiently formidable barrier between the dead and myself -to give me a sense of comparative safety. Still panting with excitement, -I paused a moment on the landing. Reminding myself of how important it -was that nothing about me should excite remark, I put on my hat and -adjusted my thick veil with the utmost care, although my stiff, shaking -fingers were hardly able to perform their task. Then, summoning up all -my self-control I was ready to face the world again." - -She stopped, and sank back exhausted. - -"Go on," I begged; "what did you do then?" - -"I knew that if Mr. Norman was in town at all, he would be at his -father's house," May continued, more quietly. - -"Hailing a cab, I drove directly there. You can imagine in what an -overwrought state I was when I tell you that the idea that I was doing -anything unusual never occurred to me. I rang the bell and asked for -Mr. Stuart Norman without the least embarrassment. The butler's look of -surprise and his evident unwillingness to admit me, recalled me a little -to my senses. But even when I saw how my conduct must strike others, I -did not turn back, and I finally persuaded the man to call his master. -The latter hurried from the breakfast table to see who the mysterious -and importunate female might be who had come knocking so early at his -door. Notwithstanding my veil, he recognised me at once. Ushering me -into a small reception room he closed the door behind him; then turning -towards me he took me by the hand and, gently leading me to a sofa, -begged me to tell him what had happened. I told my dreadful story as -briefly as possible. You can imagine with what horror he listened. -Strangely enough, I remained perfectly calm. I was astonished at my own -callousness, but at the moment I felt as if all that had occurred was -nothing but a hideous nightmare, from which I had happily awakened. When -I had finished, Mr. Norman did not speak for some time, but paced up and -down the room with ill-concealed agitation. Trying to appear calm, he -again sat down beside me. - -"'I have come to the conclusion that the only thing for you to do is to -return at once to the Rosemere,' he said at last. This suggestion at -once dispelled the numbness which had come over me, and the painful -fluttering of my heart convinced me that the power of suffering had, -alas, not left me. I first thought that he intended me to go back alone, -but that I knew I could _not_ do. He soon reassured me on that point, -however, and promised that as long as I needed him, or wanted him, he -would never desert me. He seemed to understand intuitively how I shrank -from returning to the scene of the tragedy, and I felt sure he would -not urge me to do so if he did not think it absolutely necessary. He -pointed out that the body must be removed from our apartment as soon -as possible. Where to put it was the question. We thought of various -places, none of which seemed practicable, till I remembered the vacant -suite on our landing. As soon as I told him of it, and that at present -painters and paper-hangers were working there, he decided that we could -never find a more convenient spot, or one where the discovery of the -dead man was so little likely to compromise any one. How Mr. Norman was -to get into our apartment was the next question. For obvious reasons -he could not do so openly. At last, he hit on the idea of disguising -himself as a tradesman. He suggested that we should both enter the -building at the same time, I by the front, and he by the back door. I -was then to let him in through the kitchen, which could easily be done -without anybody's being the wiser. This seemed the most feasible plan, -and I agreed to it. It would take him only a few minutes to dress, he -assured me, but while I was waiting he begged me to have some breakfast. -I told him that it would be impossible for me to eat, but he insisted. -As it was most important that the servants should not recognise me, he -took me to a quiet restaurant round the corner. There he ordered an -ample breakfast, and stayed (notwithstanding my protests) till he -satisfied himself that I had done full justice to it. He was gone an -incredibly short time, and when he did return I had some difficulty in -recognising him, so faultless, to my inexperienced eyes, did his get-up -appear. He did not enter the restaurant, but lounged outside, chewing -a straw with apparent carelessness. That straw was a very neat touch, -for it permitted him to distort his mouth without exciting remark. A -battered straw hat, drawn well over his eyes, a large apron, and a -market-basket completed the transformation. Even if he had come face to -face with a party of friends, I doubt if they would have known him. For -who could suspect a man like Mr. Norman of masquerading as a tradesman? -People would therefore be inclined to attribute any likeness they -observed to an accidental resemblance." - -So he was the tradesman I had seen leaving the Rosemere! I felt a -terrible pang of jealousy, but managed to ask: "What did his servants -think at seeing their master go out in such costume?" - -"Later on, he told me that he had been able to leave the house -unperceived," she replied; "at least, he thought so, as all the servants -happened to be at breakfast. He had crept softly up-stairs, put on an -old suit and hat, both of which had suffered shipwreck; then, with -infinite precautions, he had stolen into the butler's pantry, seized an -apron, stuffed it inside his coat, which he buttoned over it, and, after -watching till the street was clear, slipped quietly out. When he turned -the corner, and fancied himself unobserved, he pulled out the apron and -tied it on. Then, walking boldly into Bloomingdale's, he purchased a -market-basket, into which, with great forethought, he put a few needful -groceries. All this, as I said before, he told me later. At the time, I -left the restaurant without even glancing in his direction. We boarded -the same car, but sat as far apart as possible. All went off as we had -arranged, and half an hour later I had let him into our kitchen without -having aroused anybody's suspicions." She paused a moment. - -"Mr. Norman went at once into the room where the body lay," she -continued. "He went alone, as I dared not follow him. When he came out -he told me that he had pulled down all the shades, as, owing to the -intense heat, he feared that some one might be tempted to climb to the -opposite roof, in which case a chance look would lead to the discovery -of my ghastly secret. The quiet and business-like way in which he talked -of our situation was most comforting, and I was surprised to find myself -calmly discussing the different means of obtaining possession of the -key to the vacant apartment. This must be my task, as he could not go -outside the door, for fear of being seen. So I stole out on the landing -to reconnoitre. To my joy, I saw the key sticking in the lock. When Mr. -Norman heard of this piece of good luck, it did not take him long to -decide on a plan of action. Hastily scribbling a few lines to his -butler, he gave them to me. He then told me to go out again and ring for -the elevator. While waiting for it to come, I was to saunter casually -to the threshold of the adjoining flat, and, leaning on the door-knob, -quietly abstract the key. Should any one notice me, my curiosity would -be a sufficient excuse for my presence. Having got the key and enclosed -it in the envelope he had given me, I was to hurry to a district -messenger office (taking care to select one where I was not likely to -be known), send the note, and there await the answer, which would be -addressed to Miss Elizabeth Wright. In this note he gave orders to have -the key duplicated as quickly and secretly as possible. Mr. Norman -thought that the butler, who was a man of great discretion, and had been -with the family for many years, could be entrusted with this delicate -mission, but anyhow we had to risk it as the only alternative (my going -to a locksmith myself) was not to be thought of. The police would be -sure to make inquiries of all such people, and if they discovered that a -girl answering to my description had been to them on such an errand, it -would fasten suspicion upon me and prove a perhaps fatal clue. I thought -his plan most ingenious, and promised to follow his instructions to the -letter. I had no difficulty in obtaining the key, although my extreme -nervousness made me so awkward that I almost dropped it at the critical -moment. After that everything else was easy. It seemed, however, an -interminable time before I at last held both keys in my hand. I flew -back to the Rosemere. Impatience lent wings to my feet. But here a -disappointment awaited me. On stepping out of the elevator, I found -the hall full of workmen, noisily eating their luncheons. There was -no help for it--I must postpone returning the key till later. This -agitated me very much, as I feared every moment that its absence -would be discovered. Mr. Norman, however, took the delay much more -philosophically than I did, and reassured me somewhat by saying that he -did not believe any one would think of the key till evening. Still, as -it was advisable to run as few risks as possible, I decided to make -another attempt as soon as the men returned to their work. Peeping -through a crack of our door, I waited till the coast was clear before -venturing out. After ringing the elevator bell, I walked boldly forward, -and had already stretched out my hand towards the key-hole, when a queer -grating noise made me pause. A tell-tale boot was thrust suddenly out, -and to my horror I discovered that a man was standing directly behind -the door, busily scraping off the old paint. The narrowness of my escape -made me feel quite faint. Another moment and the click of the lock would -have betrayed me, and then--but I could not indulge in such conjectures. -Swallowing my disappointment, I got into the lift. There was no help -for it; I dared not try again till later in the day. In the meantime, I -decided to do some shopping, as I wanted to be able to give that as an -excuse for my prolonged stay in town. After spending several hours in -this way, I concluded that I might again make an effort to replace the -key, and this time I was successful, for although I met one of the -workmen, yet I am sure he had not noticed that I had been fumbling with -the lock. I found Mr. Norman, on my return, as calm and cheerful as -ever. He urged me not to stay in the apartment, and although I felt -ashamed to leave him to face the situation alone, yet the place was so -dreadful to me that I yielded to my fears and his entreaties, and went -out again and wandered aimlessly about till it grew so dark that I no -longer dared to remain out alone. It is impossible for me to describe -the ensuing evening. We sat together in the kitchen, as being the spot -farthest from the scene of the tragedy. At first we tried to talk, but -as the hours crept by, we grew more and more taciturn. We had decided -that at two o'clock we would attempt our gruesome task, for that is the -time when the world sleeps most soundly. Mr. Norman suggested that I -should muffle myself up as much as possible, so that in case we were -discovered, I might yet escape recognition, or, what would be even -better, observation. I therefore put on a dark shirtwaist I found -hanging in my closet, drew on a pair of black gloves to prevent my hands -attracting attention, and tied up my hair in a black veil, which I could -pull down over my face in case of emergency. Two o'clock at last struck. -We immediately--but why linger over the gruesome details of what -occurred during the next fifteen minutes? Fortunately, no one surprised -us as we staggered across the landing with our burden, and we managed to -get back to the shelter of our four walls unobserved. As we stood for -a moment in the hall congratulating ourselves on having got rid of the -body so successfully, I noticed a long, glittering object lying at my -feet. Bending down, I picked it up. It was the fatal hat-pin. I dropped -it with a shudder. Mr. Norman asked me what it was. I told him. He -picked it up again and examined it closely. 'Where is the head of this -pin?' he asked. I had no idea. I remembered that it had broken off in -my hand as I wrenched it out of the body, and I thought that in all -probability it still lay somewhere in the drawing-room, unless it had -been carried elsewhere by the same chance which had swept its other part -into the hall. Mr. Norman looked very grave when he heard of this loss, -and said he would look for it immediately. He insisted, however, on my -going to my room and trying to get some sleep. But sleep was, of course, -out of the question, and at six o'clock I crept down stairs to bid my -kind friend good-bye. We had concluded that at that hour he could easily -leave the building unobserved. - -"I had to wait till later, and just as I thought the time for my release -had come the janitor brought me a request, a command rather, from the -Coroner, to the effect that I was to remain on the premises till he had -seen me. If McGorry had not been so excited himself he must have noticed -my agitation, for I jumped at once to the conclusion that my secret was -discovered. Luckily, I had time enough before I was finally called to -regain my self-possession, and to decide how I had better behave so as -to dissipate suspicion, even if it had already fastened upon me. I knew -that to show too much emotion would be fatal. I must try and prove to -them that I was not particularly affected by the sight of the corpse, -and yet must be careful not to go to the other extreme and appear -callous. How could I do this? Had I enough self-control to risk raising -my veil when I entered the room where the dead man lay? If I did this -and showed a calm, grave face, I believed it would go far towards -establishing my innocence in the minds of those who would be watching -me. And I think I _did_ hide my agitation till the detective asked me a -question I was quite unprepared for." - -"You did, indeed," I assured her. - -"When the ordeal was at last over, and Mr. Merritt had handed me into a -cab, I really thought that I had allayed all suspicion. On arriving at -Thirty-fourth Street Ferry, I was detained by a collision which had -occurred between two vehicles, and as I was afraid of missing my train I -jumped out in the middle of the street. As I was paying my fare, another -hansom dashed up and I saw the man who was in it making desperate -efforts to attract the driver's attention. Having at last succeeded in -doing so, the horse was pulled up on its haunches and the man sprang -out, knocking against me as he did so. He apologised profusely, and -I noticed that he was an insignificant-looking person, a gentleman's -servant, perhaps, and thought no more about him. I did not see him on -the ferry, but after I had taken my seat in the cars I turned around and -saw that he was sitting almost directly behind me. It then occurred to -me that I ought to have telegraphed to my mother and asked her to send -the carriage to meet me. I looked at my watch. The train would not start -for six minutes. I got off and hurried towards the telegraph office, -but, catching sight of the station clock, I saw that my watch had been -slow and that I had barely time to regain my seat. Turning abruptly -around, I almost ran into a man's arms. I started back and recognised, -to my surprise, the same fellow I had already noticed twice before. I -then made up my mind that he was following me. I jumped on to the last -car and stood outside on the platform. A moment later the man appeared. -Seeing me he hurried forward, but I had found out what I wanted to know. - -"I walked back to my seat, outwardly calm, but inwardly a prey to the -most dreadful emotions. What could I do? Nothing. On arriving at my -destination the fellow also alighted, and as I drove home I felt he was -still following me. After that, knowing that I was being shadowed, I had -not a moment's peace. I dared not go beyond the gate. I dared not roam -around the garden. I hardly knew what I feared, for of course they could -have arrested me as easily in the house as outside. At last, I could -bear the strain no longer and sent for Mr. Norman. His presence gave me -a wonderful sense of security, and as I did not see my persecutor for -several days, I really began to hope that the Rosemere tragedy would -always remain a mystery, when, picking up the paper one morning, I read -that a wretched Frenchman was suspected of the--the death. Of course, -there was nothing else for me to do; I must give myself up. Then, you, -Doctor, suggested that it might not be necessary, after all--oh, you -gave that advice quite unconsciously. I knew that. But when you told me -that the man, Argot, was hopelessly insane, and would in any case spend -the rest of his days in a lunatic asylum, I wondered if the sacrifice of -my life were indeed demanded. At any rate I felt I must go to New York -so as to be on hand in case something unexpected occurred, and to -watch developments. You can now understand why I begged you so hard to -persuade Mamma to bring me here. When I had at last induced you all to -let me come, I went out for a walk and was terribly frightened by a -tramp whom I mistook for a detective. On reaching New York, I found -there was nothing to be done here, and yet I have felt much more calm -than I did in the country. Then, yesterday, I met Mr. Merritt, who -told me that Mrs. Atkins was suspected, and had fled from her home -in consequence. I might hold my tongue where a poor mad creature was -concerned, whom my confession could not benefit, but in this case it was -not to be thought of. I had a great many last things to attend to, so I -decided not to give myself up till to-day. That is the end of my story." - -And it is very nearly the end of mine. I easily persuaded May that to -make her confession public would do no good to any one. When the inquest -was held Mrs. Atkins told what she knew of the deceased, and although -several people considered that her conduct had been suspicious, yet no -one, I think, questioned that the verdict that Allan Brown met his death -"by a person or persons unknown," was the only one which could have been -rendered. I have never really learned whether the name of the Rosemere -victim was Derwent or Brown. As May had not seen her brother since he -left his home many years before as a beardless boy, it is quite possible -that her failure to recognise him was simply due to the great change -which dissipation, as well as years, had wrought in him. However, as -young Derwent was never again heard of, I have always believed that it -is he who lies in some unnamed grave in the potter's field. But that his -fate may never become known to his mother and sister, is my most ardent -wish. - -Years have passed since these occurrences took place, and May Derwent -is, I am glad to say, May Derwent no longer. - -From time to time I see Merritt, but as he will talk of nothing but -the Rosemere murder, I avoid him as much as possible. I am sure that, -although he has never been able to discover a single damaging fact -against my wife, yet his detective instinct tells him that she alone -could solve, if she wanted to, the mystery of "The House Opposite." - - -THE END. - - - - -GOOD FICTION - - -The Shadow of Victory - - A Romance of Fort Dearborn. By MYRTLE REED, author of "Love Letters - of a Musician," "Lavender and Old Lace," etc. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.35) net, $1.20 - - This latest work by the author of "Lavender and Old Lace" is a - vigorous novel showing the development of character amid the rough - and stirring scenes of an early Western trading post. The people of - the book are real and attractive, and the heroine belongs to the - best type of a strong fascinating American womanhood. The story is - full of Miss Reed's characteristic breezy humor and has many touches - of genuine sentiment. This book will appeal strongly to the readers - who have been charmed by the grace and wit of Miss Reed's earlier - works, and it is also sure of a warm reception from all those who - love an exciting story well told. - - -Free, Not Bound - - By KATRINA TRASK, author of "Under King Constantine," "Christalan," - etc. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.20) net, $1.10 - - The story of a woman's love. The time of the story is in the year - 1777, but it is in no sense an historical novel; in fact, the - evident artistic purpose of the author has been to make the type - of her heroine universal rather than local. The atmosphere of - Revolutionary times is purely incidental. - - The motifs of the book are the evolution of love, which the author - treats not as a sentimental emotion but as a larger and more - exalted passion, and the evolution of the moral nature from - traditional formalism to a wider though more radical morality. The - picture of this evolution is given as a picture of life, not with - any evident purpose. The story is dramatic rather than didactic. - - -A Master Hand - - The Story of a Crime. By RICHARD DALLAS. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.10) net, $1.00 - - This is a detective story of unusual interest. A young bachelor of - quiet tastes, a few warm friends, and no enemies, is found dead, - stabbed while he slept in his New York apartment. There is no - emphasis on the horrors of the deed, but the reader's entire - attention is held to the detection of the mysterious murderer. Those - who begin this book will sit up and finish it. - - -New York--G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS--London - - - - -GOOD FICTION - - -The House Opposite - - A Mystery. By ELIZABETH KENT. 12mo, cloth, _net_, $1.00; 16mo, - paper, 50 cts. - -"Not an unnecessary word in the whole book, and the intricacies of the -plot are worked out so skilfully that the reader will not guess the -final denouement until he reaches the last chapter."--_Omaha -World-Herald._ - -"A good story of its kind that can be recommended without -reserve."--_N. Y. Sun._ - - -The Sheep-Stealers - - A Romance of the West of England. By VIOLET JACOB. 12mo, _net_, - $1.20. By mail, $1.35. - -"We have seldom read a book with a happier mixture of romance -and realism--so fresh, so original, so wholesome. Her style is -excellent,--lucid, natural, unaffected."--_London Spectator._ - - -The Poet and Penelope - - By L. PARRY TRUSCOTT. 12mo (By mail, $1.10), _net_, $1.00. - -"The book is delightful from first to last. Mr. Truscott tells his story -daintily and lightly; but he is not merely a writer of graceful comedy. -He understands men and women. Each one of his characters is a personage -in his or her way, and there is a subtlety in the drawing of the hero -and the heroine that gives the story reality."--_London World._ - - -New York--G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS--London - - - - -GOOD FICTION - - -Lavender and Old Lace - - By MYRTLE REED, author of "Love Letters of a Musician," "The - Spinster Book," etc. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.65) net, $1.50 - - Full Crimson Morocco net, $2.00 - - - Miss Reed has carried her lively style and charming humor from - letters and essays into the field of fiction. This is the story of a - quaint corner of New England where more than one romance lies hidden - underneath the prim garb of a little village. - - -The Shadow of Victory - - A Romance of Fort Dearborn (early Chicago). By MYRTLE REED. - - 12o. With frontispiece net, $1.20 - - Full crimson morocco, gilt top net, $2.00 - - - Miss Reed's new novel is pre-eminently a love story, portraying a - true woman whose lot was cast, not in the drawing-room or in the - salon, but in the wilderness, where the only representatives of - civilization and culture were the rude fort and the true hearts that - garrisoned it. Beatrice is fascinating, possessing all the sweet - caprices of woman, with woman's strength in time of need, while the - hero is a man whose character must appeal to every true woman. - - -Fame for a Woman - - or, Splendid Mourning. By CRANSTOUN METCALFE. With Frontispiece by - ADOLF THIEDE. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.35) net, $1.20 - - Madame de Staël wrote: "Fame is for women only a splendid mourning - for happiness"; Mr. Metcalfe tells us how a sweet little woman, - whose world is little bigger than her husband, loses that - perspective by contact with the superficially clever young literary - set in London. She is persuaded to write, and her writing is - attended with success, such as it is,--the sort of success which - means much figuring in "literary notes," interviews describing - the privacy of one's fireside, and pre-eminence among so-called - Bohemians. - - -New York--G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS--London - - - - -GOOD FICTION - - -Patricia of the Hills - - By CHARLES KENNETT BURROW. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.10.) _Net_ $1.00 - - "Patriotism without unreasonableness; love of the open air and the - free hills without exaggeration; romance without over-gush; humor - and melancholy side by side without morbidness; an Irish dialect - stopping short of excess; a story full of sincere feeling."--_The - Nation._ - - "No more charming romance of the old sod has been published in a - long time."--_N. Y. World._ - - "A very pretty Irish story."--_N. Y. Tribune._ - - -Eve Triumphant - - By PIERRE DE COULEVAIN. Translated by ALYS HALLARD. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.35.) _Net_ $1.20 - - "Clever, stimulating, interesting, ... a brilliant mingling of - salient truth, candid opinion, and witty comment."--_Chicago - Record._ - - "An audacious and satirical tale which embodies a great deal of - clever and keen observation."--_Detroit Free Press._ - - "An extremely clever work of fiction."--_Louisville - Courier-Journal._ - - -Monsieur Martin - - A Romance of the Great Swedish War. By WYMOND CAREY. - - 12o. (By mail, $1.35.) _Net_ $1.20 - - "It was with genuine pleasure that we read 'M. Martin.' ... We - cordially admire it and sincerely hope that all who read this page - will also read the book."--From a Column Review in the _Syracuse - Herald_. - - "Wymond Carey's name must be added to the list of authors whose - first books have given them a notable place in the world of - letters, for 'Monsieur Martin' is one of the best of recent - historical romances."--_Chicago Inter-Ocean._ - - "Mr. Wymond Carey has given us much pleasure in reading his book, - and we are glad to praise it."--_Baltimore Sun._ - - -New York--G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS--London - - - - -Transcriber's Note - - -For the txt-version of this e-book words in italics were surrounded with -_underscores_, and small capitals changed to all capitals. Superscript -o (in 12o) has been changed to a regular o. All chapter headers and most -of the chapter endings had decorations, these are not seperately -mentioned. - -The following corrections have been made, on page - - 1 "NEIGHBOR'S" changed to "NEIGHBOUR'" (THROUGH MY NEIGHBOUR'S - WINDOWS) - 21 "fain't" changed to "faint" (she'd faint, and then her mother - would) - 61 "Your" changed to "You" (You work for Mr. Stuart?) - 102 ' added (full of tears. 'My darling) - 136 "maligant" changed to "malignant" (while a malignant expression - flitted across) - 151 ' added (An' I puts my arms quite around) - 176 . changed to , (nothing going on there," I reminded) - 182 ' changed to " (hope you're ready for it.") - 194 "pour" changed to "pore" (all the papers and pore over them) - 204 ' removed ("But why?") - 238 ' removed ("I had been walking rapidly along) - 258 " changed to ' (I will kill you.' Yes, I said that). - -Otherwise the original was preserved, including unusual and inconsistent -spelling and inconsistent hyphenation. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The House Opposite, by Elizabeth Kent - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE HOUSE OPPOSITE *** - -***** This file should be named 41525-8.txt or 41525-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/1/5/2/41525/ - -Produced by sp1nd, eagkw and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -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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