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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/75642-0.txt b/75642-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..991f052 --- /dev/null +++ b/75642-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,8683 @@ + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75642 *** + + + + + + FEATHERS + LEFT AROUND + + + + + _CAROLYN WELLS’_ + + + _Baffling detective stories in which Fleming Stone, the great + American Detective, displays his remarkable ingenuity for unravelling + mysteries_ + + + FEATHERS LEFT AROUND + THE MYSTERY GIRL + THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE + RASPBERRY JAM + THE DIAMOND PIN + VICKY VAN + THE MARK OF CAIN + THE CURVED BLADES + THE WHITE ALLEY + ANYBODY BUT ANNE + THE MAXWELL MYSTERY + A CHAIN OF EVIDENCE + THE CLUE + THE GOLD BAG + + + PTOMAINE STREET + A Rollicking Parody on a Famous Book. + + + + + FEATHERS + LEFT AROUND + + + BY + CAROLYN WELLS + _Author of “Vicky Van,” “The Mystery Girl,” etc._ + + + + + PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON + J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY + 1923 + + + + + COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY STREET AND SMITH CORPORATION + COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY + + + PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY + AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS + PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A. + + + + + TO MY DEAR FRIEND + ADALA WILSON + + + + + CONTENTS + + +CHAPTER PAGE + + I. LITTLE ANNA 9 + + II. A CELEBRATED GUEST 28 + + III. THE TRAGEDY 46 + + IV. THE MEREDITH STORY 65 + + V. ROLY TAKES THE LEAD 84 + + VI. WHAT TESSIE SAW 103 + + VII. THE SISTER ARRIVES 121 + + VIII. LITTLE ANNA’S WILES 140 + + IX. PAULINE’S GRIEF 160 + + X. CURRAN’S WATCH 179 + + XI. PAULINE’S FLIGHT 198 + + XII. WITH MARY MALDEN 217 + + XIII. HOW LOFT TOOK IT 236 + + XIV. FIBSY MEETS A COUNTESS 255 + + XV. THE NEEDLE AGAIN 274 + + XVI. CURRAN’S CRUELTY 293 + + XVII. ON TO MAPLEDALE 312 + + XVIII. THE TRUTH AT LAST 331 + + + + + FEATHERS LEFT AROUND + + + + + CHAPTER I + + LITTLE ANNA + + +KNOX flung his book across the veranda. + +“Another of those old Sealed Room plots,” he complained, as his host, +Valentine Loft looked up, mildly inquiring. + +“Man dead in an inaccessible room,” Knox went on, “doors and windows +all locked, no weapon to be found; murder or suicide?--and how was it +done--if any?” + +“The sort I like best,” and Loft looked interested. “I eat up Detective +Stories, and I like better the How Was It Done? or the Who Did It? kind +better than the Why?” + +“You’re dead wrong. The real interest of a murder story lies in the +motive. That’s the thing.” + +“Nope. It’s the cleverness of the detail work. The art of the criminal. +Now, if I were going to commit a murder....” + +“Heavens and earth, Val! What are you talking about? Drop it, any way, +and listen to little Anna. I’ve thought up a name for this place.” + +“Number two thousand and six!” Loft groaned. “I pray Heaven may +sometime send me a guest who does not requite my hospitality by +offering me a ‘name for my place’!” + +The vivacious little blonde who had just come up on the terrace, +accompanied by a big, good-natured looking man, sat on the arm of +Loft’s chair, as she insisted on her suggestion. + +“You’ll like this, Val, though. It’s different from the Stonywolds and +Ferndales that the herd invents. It’s Valhalla! There, how’s that?” + +“Rotten!” + +“Not a bit of it,--is it, Ned?” and Anna Knox appealed to her husband, +whose talk with Loft she had interrupted. + +“Pretty good,” he responded; “I believe Valhalla means the place of +departed spirits,--so, in a way, it’s appropriate!” + +“If you people stay much longer, mine will be entirely departed. But +while I’ve a dram left,--I can take a hint.” Loft leaned over to touch +a bell button. + +“Oh, Val, listen!” Anna went on. “It’s the name,--don’t you see? +Valentine,--Val,--Hall,--Valhalla!” + +“I heard you the first time,” and Loft looked at her smilingly; “but, +though I recognized the Val connection,--I didn’t get the Hall part +till you explained it. Almost like a charade.” + +“You are the most aggravating thing!” and Mrs. Knox favored him with +her best pout. + +Little Anna was one of the few perfect blondes Nature ever turned out. +She needed no vanity-case, her face was like a Greuze pastel. Her +shining hair, carelessly tucked up, nestled over her ears in loose, +involuntary rings, not at all a rolled-up mass. + +Dainty of flesh and blood, she was always perfectly togged, and today, +in her white knitted silk sport suit, she seemed a morsel that any man +might greedily devour. + +Ned Knox looked at her adoringly, yet a trifle uneasily as she lounged +nearer to Valentine Loft. + +“Come here, Anna,” he said, authoritatively, “come here and sit by me.” + +“Yes, dear, as soon as I make Val consent to my suggestion.” + +She lightly ran her fingers through the thick dark hair of Loft’s +restless head. + +“Get out, Anna!” he growled; “get out! I’ll murder you!” + +“Come over here, Anna,” said Angel Bob Baldwin, the man who had arrived +with her. + +Baldwin was a giant person of the Viking type, and by reason of his +calm serenity and frequently upturned blue eyes was called Angel. + +“But I’ve had you all the afternoon,” Anna smiled; “I can have Ned all +my life,--and I can only catch Val in an unoccupied moment, now and +then, when Pauline doesn’t see me.” + +“Just for that, you’ve got to go,” and with a calm push, Loft gently +dislodged her from her perch, whereupon, nothing dismayed, she went +round and sat on the other arm of his chair. + +But Anna’s caprices were always smiled upon, and Loft offered her a +cigarette. + +The veranda gave West, and the disappearing sun touched the flowers, +the trees and Anna’s golden hair with a final blaze of glory. None of +the three men could keep his eyes off her exquisite face, and though +seemingly unconscious of this, she saw it, exultantly, and her vain +little soul fairly lapped it up. + +The “place” of Valentine Loft was a small estate in Westchester County, +more noticeable for its quiet taste and comfortable appointments than +for grandeur. He had guests much of the time, and always a group of +people over the week-ends. + +Yet, though up to now, a bachelor’s domain, Petticoat Rule was +imminent, for in a few months Loft would marry Pauline Fuller, and into +her capable hands would pass the household reins of government. + +But no gracious chatelaine could improve on the kindly courtesy or +thoughtful hospitality of Valentine Loft. + +A good-looking chap of thirty-two, he was a man of varied interests +and vocations. A lawyer first, but more or less of a dabbler in Real +Estate, an architect of no small skill and a general financier. But his +natural quickness of intellect and his achieved efficiency enabled him +to have many irons in the fire, and keep them all hot. In his offices +he was a General, commanding, inspiring, conquering. In his home, he +was a delightful, debonair host, a man of the world, the flesh and the +devil. + +One of his most endearing traits was a broad, sweet tolerance that +forgave idiosyncrasies and even defects in others, making allowance +for their unfortunate lack of mental or psychical equipment. Yet there +were a few things he could not condone or forgive. On these points he +was so positive as to seem stubborn. + +One of these was his attitude toward divorce. With the assuredness of +the inexperienced, he held that once married was always married. So +far did he carry this notion of his, that he rarely made friends of +divorced people, and preferred not to meet them. + +Some had jestingly told him that after his own marriage he might change +his mind, but his cold reception of these pleasantries forbade their +repetition. + +His love for Pauline Fuller was the love of his life,--in it he had +already put his whole soul, and Loft’s was not a fickle nature. + +Another fad of his was the value of inaction. He deplored waste motion, +and held that far more was lost by effort than by restraint. A favorite +maxim was: “Do nothing and all things will be done.” This he had picked +up in a book somewhere, and frequently quoted it. Though such a code +might be dangerous to a less executive brain, to Loft it was wise +counsel. + +And seemingly, his plan worked. He seemed, indeed, to do nothing and +yet, in his domain all things were done. His household mechanism was of +the most smooth-running variety, and no incoming bride could hope to +improve on it,--the most she might hope would be to keep it up to its +present standards. + +With his calm foresight, Loft felt sure that Pauline would do this, or +if she didn’t, she could be taught to. + +And now Pauline was under his roof, spending a blissful fortnight, made +possible by the chaperonage of little Anna Knox. + +Though a few months younger than Pauline, Anna was a matron of +three years’ standing, and so, thoroughly equipped for the office +of chaperon. To be sure, Mrs. Ned Knox had her own notions of these +duties, but her presence gave the conventional sanction to Pauline’s +visit. + +Pauline, tall, dark, beautiful, came out from the house, pausing a +moment in the doorway to lift her straight, heavy black eyebrows at +Anna’s position. + +“You!” she exclaimed, “you grasping cormorant! You have all the men +in the world, and yet you must needs reach out after my one little ewe +lamb! You go and read your prayer-book where it says, ‘Keep my hands +from picking and stealing’!” + +“I wasn’t hurting your lammie,” and Anna rose slowly from Loft’s chair +arm, and went over to sit beside her husband. “Was I, Val?” + +“I didn’t know you were there,” Loft returned, looking surprisedly at +her, as he rose to arrange a seat for Pauline, and Anna made a face at +him. + +Tea was brought then, with other cups even more cheering, and as the +shadows lengthened across the lawn and dusk began to fall, conversation +lagged and there were frequent silences. + +“I’m asked down to Wyngate for the week-end,” Baldwin said. + +“You can’t go, Angel,” Loft told him quickly. “I’ve more guests coming, +and you must help bore them to death.” + +“But they asked me, and they said they were going to have a lot of +interesting people there.” + +“Contradiction of terms. Interesting people don’t come in lots. The +other sort do.” + +“Why, Val, how you do make on!” cried Anna. “Haven’t we a group of +interesting people right here now?” + +“No; Pauline is the only interesting one, and I wouldn’t except her +only she’s my fiancée, and it seems as if I ought to.” + +“What a bear you are,” and Pauline glanced at him amusedly. She was +taller and more slender than most girls, and possessed of a lithe grace +that made one want to watch her every motion. Her coloring was very +black and very white, save where a slight touch of rouge showed on +either cheek. Her dark eyes were almost sad in repose, but brightened +to shining light when she became animated. Her smile was fleeting and +adorable, and the look she gave Loft was enough to turn any man’s head. + +“I’m awfully alone,” complained Angel Bob. “Here’s Pauline making eyes +at Val, while he wriggles with delight. Here’s my little flirt Anna, +gone back to her husband, and I’ve nobody to play with.” + +“Well you can’t run off for the week-end,” Val repeated. “I’ll import +one or two pretty girls for you to flirt with, and I’ll allow Pauline +and Anna to give you a daily dozen of their witching smiles and +glances.” + +“Oh, Lord, don’t overdo it!” and Baldwin flung up his hands. + +“Pauline,” Anna said, “what do you think these men were talking about +when Bob and I came suddenly upon them a few moments ago? Just as we +reached them, Val was saying, ‘Now, when I commit my murder--’” + +“Hold hard, there, Anna,” Loft said; “I didn’t put it quite like that. +You see I’ve not yet fully decided to do one. As a matter of fact, I +was saying, if I were going to commit a murder--” + +“Well, what’s the difference? They’re both in the future tense.” + +“Finish your sentence, Val,” observed Pauline. “It sounds interesting.” + +“You see, Ned and I were discussing Detective Stories. We’re both fond +of them.” + +“I thought nobody read them,” interrupted Bob, “except English Premiers +and American Presidents. I assumed they were rather highbrow stuff.” + +“Anything Bob says is funny,” said Anna, and as he smirked +complacently, she went on, “because he’s so funny looking.” + +Whereupon Baldwin really did look funny. + +“Go on, Val,” commanded Pauline. + +“Well, I’m always interested in the plans of the murderer. If I were +one, I’d lay my plans and go about my work in such a careful and clever +way, that the crime could never be brought home to me. It could never +be discovered who did it.” + +“Then there wouldn’t be any Detective Story,” declared Mrs. Knox. +“Moreover, Val, you couldn’t do that,--it would be impossible.” + +“On the contrary it would be dead easy,” contended Baldwin. “Why, I +couldn’t kill anybody because I’m too soft-hearted, but if I did, I’d +easily arrange it so it would be an insoluble mystery.” + +“It isn’t as easy as all that,” Loft said, slowly; “it’s possible, but +difficult. You see, you have to guard against so many contingencies. +And detectives are sharp chaps.” + +“In fiction,” said Bob. + +“In real life, too. Even if they don’t do the Sherlock act, they very +often bring home the bacon. Anyway, that would have to be reckoned +with.” + +“What method is most approved this year?” Pauline asked, composedly. + +“Strangling,” said Bob, promptly. “Strangling is neat, clean and cool. +Needs no weapon, leaves no mark. Try our strangulation method, you +will never use any other!” + +“That’s all very well for you, with muscles like pile-drivers and hands +like clam-rakes!” Knox looked at his own small and neatly cared-for +hands. + +He was a trifle undersized, but agile and athletic. In inverse +proportion to his size his egotism was supreme, and he was opinionated +and a bit cocky. His imagination was unlimited, and to its fullest +scope he invented short stories which sold to the best magazines at the +best prices. + +“And yet, Bob,” he went on, “I’d think your poetic soul would balk at +strangling. It’s not really artistic, you know.” + +“What is?” asked Anna. + +“Shooting. That’s a gentleman’s method. Shoot your +man,--quick,--ping!--all over.” + +“But the weapon?” said Loft, “how to conceal it?” + +“There’s where your cleverness gets in its fine work. I could do it. I +could either cause the weapon to disappear,--or, with it, fasten the +crime on another--oh, no, that way wouldn’t do,--they’d see through +that,--well, then suppose--” + +Knox’s voice drifted to incoherent mutterings. He was thinking up and +rejecting one plan after another so rapidly that language could not +keep pace with his inventive mind. + +“He’s off,” said Loft, smiling. “He’s in the throes of composition. But +he’s wrong, and so are you, Bob. Stabbing is the only thing. Then, you +see,--” + +“Oh, yes, I know,” Bob growled. “Pick up the paper-cutter from the +library table,--Florentine dagger sort of thing,--jab it in and leave +it in the wound. Handkerchief wrapped round hand,--no fingerprints on +aforesaid dagger. Butler down at seven A.M. Gives alarm--I always said, +Val, you had no imagination. That’s the most hackneyed plot of all.” + +“Needn’t use paper cutter if you don’t want to,” said Loft, +imperturbably. “Take dagger along, if you like. Or use jack-knife,--or +carver,--or long clipping-shears.” + +“That’s new,” conceded Bob. “Clipping-shears are not hackneyed. Would +you use ’em open or shut?” + +“An open and shut case,” said Knox, coming out of his reverie, but no +one noticed him. + +“You’ve omitted the best way of all,” said Pauline, her slow smile and +whimsical glance robbing her speech of horror. “That’s poison.” + +“Too hard to procure,” Knox said, thoughtfully. “Dramatic, in a +way,--but not facile of achievement.” + +“Oh, stop this talk,” and Anna shuddered. “You give me the willies!” + +“Now, Anna, be reasonable,” Bob admonished her. “To our class of +mentality,--and you said, yourself we were all interesting people,--no +subject is taboo. Beside, you must be interested in these themes. It’s +being done. Detective Fiction is no longer read solely by statesmen and +College Professors. The movement has invaded the stage. Only sleuth +plays are bought nowadays by our best managers.” + +“Don’t talk more than you want to, Angel,” Pauline said, kindly. “I’ll +relieve you for a while. Why, yes, Ned, one can get poison easily +enough.” + +“But how? Its sale is prohibited--” + +“But no prohibition ever really prohibited anything. It only makes it +more difficult to come by--” + +“And therefore, more attractive,” suggested Loft. “I’m not surprised, +though, Pauline, at your choice of method, for poison is preeminently +a woman’s way. You girls couldn’t manage a shooting or a stabbing, +nor, unless you’ve gone in strong for athletics, could you pull off a +successful strangle,--but poison, now, ah, there you have it.” + +“There you don’t have it,” cut in Bob. “Notwithstanding Pauline’s +jaunty assurance, I’ll bet no one of us interesting people here would +know how to go about getting enough poison to kill a baby!” + +“Oh, you have to know the chemist, I suppose, or have a club chum +who knows him,” Loft said; “of course, if I wanted poison I’d get +it,--beyond all manner of doubt. But it implies premeditation and +preparation and a certain intimacy with one’s victim, and then there’s +always the vial to be disposed of.” + +“It might be a powder,” said Pauline. + +“You could eat the paper, if necessary,” added Bob. “The vial of course +you couldn’t.” + +“More and better authors than ever are writing detective stories, +aren’t they?” Knox said. “I believe I’ll try one.” + +“Short or long?” + +“Have to be short,--Never write books. I say, that Curran chap is doing +some corkers.” + +“Hugh Curran? Indeed he is! I’ve just read his ‘Brick Walls’ and +‘Mystery of the Monastery,’ and they’re all a first rate Detective +story ought to be.” Bob spoke enthusiastically. “By Jove, I’d like to +know that fellow.” + +“If you’ll be a good boy and stay here this week-end, I’ll invite him +over,” said Loft, smiling. + +“Do you know him?” cried Anna. “Oh, do ask him! I never met a real +author! Husbands don’t count,” and she flung a merry smile at Ned. +“What’s he like, Valentine?” + +“I’ve only met him once,--at the Sports Club. But he seemed all there, +and he’s a friend of the Gedneys and the Bowles’ so he must be righto. +By the way, Angel, he’s a book collector of great wealth, so you can +put a few over on him. Rich book collectors never know anything.” + +“Don’t they?” and Baldwin smiled. + +Though not a regular book dealer, Angel Bob was a connoisseur, and +negotiated personal orders for exceedingly rare and very expensive +works. He had bought and sold more than one Folio Shakespeare and +Gutenberg Fragment to his own advantage as well as that of his +satisfied clients. + +Imaginative, visionary, vague in many ways, Baldwin was of accurate +and sure knowledge where Rares and Antiques were concerned. He loved +the old books; the print, the paper, the bindings, all were of intense +interest to him. He had bought several choice specimens for Loft, at +attractive prices, and he had even sold a few things to Hugh Curran +himself. + +Not under his own name. As a matter of business policy, Angel Bob +thought it no harm to use the fictitious firm name of Baldwin and Co. + +But this was an open secret, and his friends often chaffed the Angel on +his Trade. At which he good-naturedly smiled and continued his still +hunt for special finds which he could buy for a song and sell for a +chorus. + +“Tell us about him,--what’s he like?” begged Anna. + +“I didn’t notice him much,--it was a fortnight ago, before I’d read any +of his books. It was at luncheon, and all I remember is that he salted +every dish before he even tasted it.” + +“Poor compliment to the cook,” said Pauline; “he might at least taste +first, and give her the benefit of the doubt.” + +“No,” Knox objected, “you don’t see it right, Pauly. I’m sure he +requires more salt than the average man, so he puts it in first. That, +to my mind, is more polite than to taste, and then add salt. That +seems a reproof. The first is merely a precaution, knowing his own +idiosyncrasy.” + +“Oh, Ned! You and your psycho-analysis!” + +“That isn’t psych anything. It’s imagination. Well, when we get Curran +here we can ask him all about the best and cheapest modes of murder. +By the way, I’ve heard that Curran isn’t his real name. What is, +Valentine?” + +“I don’t know. I think I was told, too, but I’ve forgotten. Everybody +calls him Curran or Hugh.” + +“He hasn’t been writing but a few years,--strange his pseudonym sticks +to him so.” + +“He was a movie actor for a couple of years previous, I believe. He +used the name of Hugh Curran there, too.” + +“I suppose few movie actors use their real names. What does he look +like?” + +“Oh, tall, dark, holler-eyed, cadaverous, lantern-jawed,--” + +“I know what Val means!” giggled Anna, “he means he’s tired of the +subject!” + +“Not quite that,” Loft denied, “but I don’t remember how he looked,--so +I made him up. You’ll see him in a few days,--can’t you wait?” + +“I can,” Pauline said, quietly, “but I don’t see, dear, why you want a +moving picture actor here.” + +“Oh, he isn’t that any more. He’s now a prominent novelist and a +popular author. Quite different, I assure you!” + +“I’ll ask him to teach Neddie to write stories,” Anna declared, and +returned her husband’s scowl by a friendly kiss. + + + + + CHAPTER II + + A CELEBRATED GUEST + + +VALENTINE LOFT was of most courteous even genial demeanor, but he also +had an air of dictatorship about him that somehow made any request of +his seem a command. And this with no loss of courtesy or geniality, +but rather with a potency that made his hearer eager to accede to his +wishes. + +The charm of Loft’s personality was a variable factor. When he chose to +exercise it, few could withstand its lure, but when he elected to be +aloof or indifferent, he was so unresponsive as to be almost repellent. + +It was with his most cordial smile that he said, “If you’ll come for +the week-end, Mr. Curran, we’ll do all we can to entertain you, and I +know you’ll entertain us.” + +“That’s fair enough,” and Hugh Curran smiled back at him. “But how do +you know what will entertain me?” + +“Don’t. But we’ve all sorts and conditions of amusements over home, +and I’m guessing you’ll be able to pick something to fit. Come, anyway.” + +Curran was not much given to accepting invitations to strange houses, +for his ventures had not always proved satisfactory, but impelled by +Valentine’s insistence he considered the question, gazing meanwhile at +his would-be host. + +Hugh Curran was not at all the lean and lanky individual that Loft had +jestingly pictured him. On the contrary, he was a bit thickset, though +active and even athletic. His face was round and rosy, somewhat of the +type of an English country squire, and his gray eyes had a humorous +twinkle, though they were roving rather than straightforward. + +His hair was sandy and not very abundant. If he had been a movie actor +he was certainly no film hero; his was probably a character part. + +“Many people there?” he asked, casually. + +“Ten or a dozen. One’s a Countess,--Russian.” + +“That doesn’t intrigue me. Go on. Anyone I know?” + +“Stella Lawrence? Psychic, ash-blonde--” + +“Pah! Go on.” + +“Mr. and Mrs. Jack Meredith--” + +“Don’t know ’em.” + +“Mrs. Ned Knox,--gay little married flirt, pretty as a poet’s +dream,--Miss Pauline Fuller, my fiancée,--and that’s all the women.” + +“Men?” + +“Oh, come now,--aren’t you a bit of a fuss?” + +“No. Men?” + +“Well, Ned Knox,--chum of mine; Bob Baldwin, ditto.” + +“Baldwin, the book dealer?” + +“Yes.” + +“I’ll come. I’m a collector, and he knows more about old books than any +one I ever met.” + +“You know him, then?” + +“In a booky way. I’d like to talk books with him. I’ll come.” + +For once, Valentine Loft had a strange feeling of being favored by +the visit of a guest. Usually it was the other way; but though the +experience was novel it was not unpleasant. Indeed, he went so far +as to say, “Thank you, I’m glad to have you. Come over in time for +tea,--I’ll send for your duffle.” + +The interview had taken place at the Club house, and as the two men +separated, a man sitting nearby turned to Loft with a quizzical look. + +“Surprised at you, old top!” he said, smiling. “Didn’t know +tuft-hunting was among your sports.” + +“If I choose,” and Loft nodded indifferently. “But I asked him because +the girls over at the house are crazy to meet him. And, too, he seems +an interesting chap.” + +“Not that; but I know your whims, and Hugh Curran is a divorced man.” + +“He is! I didn’t know that! What’s his real name, by the way?” + +“Don’t remember,--Dyer or Dwyer, or something like that. He’s always +called Hugh Curran. Like O. Henry, you know. Few know _his_ real +name.” + +“I don’t care anything about his name, but I wish I’d known he was a +divorced man. I’ve a prejudice--” + +“I know you have, but it’s a silly one. In this day and generation you +have to accept divorce as you do the universe. You needn’t go in for it +yourself, but you ought to respect the rights of those who do.” + +Jim Martin looked at Loft seriously. The men were good friends, and +Martin was one of the few who ever presumed to reprove the autocrat. + +“Perhaps I’m morbid on the subject, but I can’t bring myself to treat +it lightly.” + +“Don’t treat it at all. Leave it lay. And especially in Curran’s case. +Why worry? He’s an author and a celebrity--” + +“Hardly that.” + +“Well, his detective stories are mighty popular, and that means +celebrity nowadays. Anyway, he’s important enough to have his personal +affairs let alone.” + +“All right, I don’t propose to discuss the thing with him. I’m sorry I +asked him to my house, but it’s done now, and can’t be helped. At any +rate he’s presentable.” + +Loft went home, rather disgusted with himself for not having further +investigated Curran’s affairs before giving him an invitation. But +since it couldn’t be helped, he dismissed it from his mind. + +“Is he coming?” cried Anna from the veranda, as Loft appeared. + +“Yes, tonight,--he’ll stay till Monday. Don’t bowl him over completely, +Anna.” + +“Why not?” and the seraph face looked innocently inquiring. “What’s he +look like, Val?” + +“Elderly, stooping, rather rheumatic and with long white whiskers.” + +“Nonsense! You told a different story yesterday.” + +“And neither is true,” Ned Knox said. “Wait till you see him, Anna. +He’s not nearly so good-looking as your own legitimate husband.” + +“Nobody is,” and Little Anna beamed on the man who adored her so. “But +I suppose he’s a man of genius.” + +“They’re terrors,” observed Angel, from a swing in the corner of the +porch, where he sat idly looking over one of Curran’s books. “I’ve read +Lombroso, and a man of genius is the most awful brute on the face of +the earth.” + +“Heavenly!” cried Anna, “I love brutes! But why are men of genius ’em?” + +“Because their brains hover between achievement and insanity. Don’t you +know, ‘Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions +thought from sense divide.’ Pope.” + +“You’re in no danger of dementia, then,” and Anna smiled kindly on him. +“But all insane people aren’t brutes. Some are quite gentle.” + +“What delightful subjects you choose for discussion,” and Pauline +came toward them. She usually was the last one to arrive as the group +gathered for tea. Anna spitefully said it was to create a sensation +by her appearance, but Pauline had replied that she always did that +anyway. Whereupon Anna had sulked. + +Pauline did, however, always command attention. Without effort, she +seemed to dominate the rest, and though Anna was more beautiful from +an artist’s standpoint, yet a poet would find greater inspiration in +Pauline’s dark eyes and sensitive face than in Anna’s pink and white +Bisque beauty. + +The two girls were not friends, although convention kept them kindly +courteous. They had little in common, and were rarely alone together. + +Yet both looked forward to the coming of the stranger. Anna, because he +would be a new man to flirt with and an important one, Pauline because +of a curiosity to see what he was like. + +The house guests already arrived, flocked to the terrace where tea +would be served. + +A notable arrival was the Countess Galaski. + +Unpretentious of appearance, the titled Russian was a general +favorite. Sharp-tongued and sharp-witted, she yet had a superabundant +sense of humor, and beneath all a kind heart. She jollied the men, +admonished the women, took always the best of everything for herself, +and was always happy. + +“How are you?” she cried, looking about inclusively, as she stepped +through the doorway. “I am here! Angel, the best chair! Valentine, a +foot cushion! Pauline, you have gone off in your looks! Fie, fie! Anna, +I will not speak to you,--you are too beautiful. Come here, and kiss +me.” + +“Who, me?” inquired Knox, rushing to her. + +“Yes, bad man, you!” she held up her rouged cheek for a somewhat +crestfallen caress from Knox, who had expected rebuff. But the Countess +never did the expected. + +Then Stella Lawrence trailed in. Stella was the sort who always trails +in preference to any other means of locomotion. Though her skirts +did not quite touch the ground, there were ends of chiffon, floating +draperies and a long filmy scarf that trailed along the floor behind +her. + +Green-eyed, ash-blonde, pale, thin, willowy, she paused back of the +chair of the rather robust and florid countess, well knowing the value +of the contrast. + +“Get away!” Countess Galaski screamed. “Get away, you and your +Burne-Jonesiness! I can’t stand the comparison!” + +“Indeed you can, Countess,” Anna declared, cattily. “It makes you look +awful wholesome and real.” + +“In for a high old time, ain’t we?” whispered Roly Mears to Pauline. + +This delightful young man was very young and very incorrigible. + +He said what he chose, and though, having never met a countess before, +he was not a bit scared of her, it was dawning on him that they might +yet become cronies. + +“You behave yourself, Roly,” Pauline returned. “There’s mischief in the +air. Anna’s on her high horse--” + +“And Stella’s full of the devil, and if Friend Countess puts up a +chattering, there’ll be fireworks.” + +“Hush, here are the Merediths.” + +The Merediths were scarcely worth hushing for, being the colorless pair +that seem to infest house-parties unavoidably. + +Comfortably middle-aged, inconspicuous of dress, pleasantly chatty of +manner, the two melted into the group and were lost to notice. + +And then Hugh Curran came. + +Though nearly everyone present would have scorned to admit any awe of +the celebrity, yet a slight hush fell as the author greeted his host. + +The Countess stared openly. Anna donned her coyest smile, and Stella +Lawrence fell quickly into what she deemed her most fetching pose. + +Roly Mears stopped short in the middle of a funny story and even +Pauline, who was presiding at the table, allowed the cup she was +filling to run over. + +Graceful and at ease, Hugh Curran moved about until he was made +acquainted with all, and then looking around a bit deliberately, chose +a seat by the Countess. + +Roly Mears, cup in hand, joined them. + +“I say, Mr. Curran,” he began, “I’ve read your books,--I think they are +fine--” + +“Roly, you baby,” the Countess cried; “that isn’t the way to talk to a +real author. That’s only for the little upstarts who like to hear about +their ‘published works.’ Mr. Curran is above and beyond that sort of +thing.” + +“Thank you, Countess,” said the author, gratefully; “if you can +manage it, I’d like you to travel round with me and make that speech +everywhere, just before I arrive.” + +“I ought to be chagrined,” Roly admitted, “but I’m not. I’m +fascinated,--with both of you. What are you going to talk about, Mr. +Curran? Politics?” + +“No, indeed,” and Hugh Curran smiled. “I’m not going to talk at all. +I’m going to listen.” + +“To me,” said Ned Knox, joining them. “You needn’t talk about your own +books, Mr. Curran, but do settle a vexed question we were discussing +the other day. Is motive or method a more important factor in a +detective story?” + +Curran looked a bit bored, but answered with evident patience. + +“I think that is entirely a matter of opinion with both author and +reader. Some are more interested in one, some in the other.” + +“After all there are only three motives,” Meredith said, sententiously, +“greed, revenge and love.” + +He had quite evidently heard or read this statement, and pronounced it +as a great truth. + +“Haven’t you omitted an important one?” asked Curran, quietly. “Isn’t +fear sometimes an impelling motive?” + +“Fear? Of what?” + +“Fear of harm from the victim, fear of revelation of a secret,--” +Curran let his gaze wander round the room. Clearly, he was not +interested in this talk. + +He looked at his beautiful hostess. Pauline sat still at the tea table, +her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes, with a far away look gazing out +of the window, across the lawn. She, too, was uninterested. + +Angel Bob, pacing up and down the terrace, was listening. + +“I’ve no use for detective stories,” the Countess said, bluntly; “I +detest them. A good old fashioned love story for me. But, if I do +read a murder yarn, what I like best is the finding of those funny +little clues. Cigarette stubs, with the criminal’s monogram; a broken +cuff-link, an initialled handkerchief,--ah, those are the things that +you can’t get along without,--eh, Mr. Curran?” + +“They are certainly useful,” he smiled. “But of late years we try to do +without the broken cuff-link or the dropped handkerchief.” + +“Is that what you call circumstantial evidence?” Stella Lawrence +trailed over to the novelist. “Just what is circumstantial evidence, +Mr. Curran?” + +She put the question as one of magnificent import. Stella was like +that. She cared nothing at all for detective fiction, but if she asked +a question concerning it, she fully expected detailed information. + +She got it. + +“It’s this way, Miss Lawrence,” Curran said, his tone a bit +patronizing. “I’ll illustrate it by an anecdote. An old darkey was +arrested for stealing chickens, and he was convicted on circumstantial +evidence. ‘What’s circumstantial evidence?’ a neighbor asked him. +‘Well,’ he said, ’ez near ez I kin splain it f’um de way it’s been +splained to me, circumstantial evidence is de feathers dat you leaves +lyin’ roun’ after you has done wid de chicken.’ That, Miss Lawrence, is +practically what circumstantial evidence is. Or, rather, the clues that +detectives set so much by, are merely feathers left around.” + +“Oh, how graphic!” and Stella clasped her hands delightedly; “and how +wonderfully well you do dialect. Are you a Southerner, Mr. Curran?” + +“No,” he returned, “I’m from Indiana.” + +“Of course,” exclaimed Roly Mears, “where else could a real author come +from?” + +But Curran made no reply. Again his glance roved toward Pauline, who, +though not yet chatelaine in name, assumed the position of hostess. + +She raised her eyes and met his and quickly looked down again. Pauline +had not the heedless effrontery of Anna, nor yet the calm poise of +Countess Galaski. + +Mrs. Meredith, the busybody! sitting next to Pauline, whispered, +roguishly. “Don’t be so embarrassed, my dear, because a stranger shows +his admiration. You are looking unusually lovely today.” + +Whereupon Pauline blushed almost vividly, and the perspicacious Hugh +Curran smiled. + +“Will you take me on at croquet, Stella?” asked Mears, “you can trail +round at that in those swishy draperies very effectively. And you +couldn’t golf or bowl or tennis in them.” + +“Yes, Roly,--get two more--” + +“No; I want you all to myself.” + +“Is that the way one does here?” asked Curran, quickly. “Then, Miss +Fuller, will you walk with me,--and may I have you all to myself?” + +“You may not!” and Valentine Loft spoke decidedly. “But, perhaps Mr. +Curran, you do not know that Miss Fuller is my fiancée. I allow no man +to have her ‘all to himself.’” + +“And quite right,” Curran bowed. “Pardon me if I was indiscreet. Mrs. +Knox, will you walk with me--round the gardens?” + +“All to yourself?” and Anna tilted her head and smiled up from under +her long lashes. + +“Yes,--if your husband will allow--” + +“He doesn’t allow me anything,--except a quarterly. I’m a twentieth +century wife, and I do my own sweet will. Come along, Mr. Curran. +Good-by, Ned.” She tossed her husband a kiss, and turned toward the +steps. + +Angel Bob Baldwin followed her. + +“I’m with you two,” he announced, cheerfully. “I’m the three that makes +the crowd.” + +“Come on, Mr. Baldwin,” said Curran, so heartily that Anna bit her lip +in annoyance. Had she then, made no impression on the lion’s heart? + +Her annoyance increased as they proceeded along the garden paths, for +save for an occasional and almost perfunctory speech to her, the two +men talked continuously of rare books and their authors. + +“You’re still collecting Incunabula?” Baldwin asked, and Curran +replied in enthusiastic affirmative. + +Then the talk touched upon Elzevirs and Bodinis, on Kelmscott Press and +Doves Bindery, until Anna rebelled. + +“You must either stop that Choctaw,” she decreed, “or take me back to +the house! I won’t be brought out here in this rose-scented dusk by two +good-looking men, and have the talk entirely over my head! You ought to +be ashamed! It isn’t done!” + +There was a pathetic note in her voice, a hint of tears, and each man +felt guilty. Immediately they dropped the subject of books; Curran +forbore to mention the work that he was about to discuss, and Angel +deferred the account of a rare bargain he had lately acquired, till +some more convenient time. + +“Tell us all about yourself, Mr. Curran,” Anna said, by the way of a +starter. “Are you engaged to be married?” + +“No, indeed, why should I be?” + +“Foolish question, Number 1008! Why should you not be? You are +depriving some nice girl of a perfectly good husband.” + +“Oh, I’m not perfectly good,--I’m indifferent bad. And, too, I’ve been +married once.” + +“You have! Oh,” Anna’s voice became very tender, “forgive me. Has she +been dead long?” + +“She isn’t dead at all. Did you never hear of Reno?” + +“I have--indirectly. So that’s the way it is.” + +“I say, Curran,” and Angel Bob looked at him earnestly, “does Loft know +this?” + +“I don’t know, I’m sure. Probably he does,--it’s no secret. Why?” + +“Only that he has had a special, almost an abnormal hatred of divorce +and of divorced people. As a friend, let me ask of you not to say +anything on the subject to him.” + +“I shan’t purposely,--certainly. But what a queer notion. One might as +well have a prejudice against blue-eyed men,--or against maple trees. +Statistics prove--” + +“Oh, we know all that,” said Anna, impatiently, “and it isn’t a +question of divorce at all. It’s a question of humoring Val’s whims. +And I don’t mind telling you that your stay here will be a whole lot +pleasanter if you don’t touch on that subject.” + +“I surely agree. Any other subject taboo?” + +“Not by him,” Anna assured him. “But if you care to consider poor +little me, I’ll beg of you not to talk collecting _all_ the time. +Something tells me that when you all get started, say after dinner, +tonight, you’ll begin by looking over Val’s collections,--he hoards +lots of things beside books and you’ll talk antiques and curios and +bindings and such things--and I do hate ’em so!” + +“Never mind, Little Anna, if they begin on that, I’ll take you off +somewhere in the moonlight and flirt with you.” + +Angel looked into her eyes with a glance that was not all make-believe. + +“I appreciate that, Bob, for I know the old things interest you, too.” + +“Only the books, Anna. I don’t care a rap for Val’s Egyptian stuff--or +Mexican. I do care for books though.” + +“And you hate to see them maltreated, eh, Mr. Baldwin?” Curran looked +at him quizzically. “You’d hate to see a rare old volume torn or +injured, wouldn’t you?” + +“It would be sacrilege,” Angel said, emphatically. + +“Imagine tearing out a leaf!” and Curran almost shuddered. + +“Why, who would do such a thing as that?” cried Baldwin. + +“The subject is taboo, remember,” and then Curran addressed himself to +Anna. + + + + + CHAPTER III + + THE TRAGEDY + + +DINNER at Valhalla that night was a brilliant affair. + +Anna’s name for the place had caught on, and Loft began to like it as +he heard it used by his guests. + +Anna, as chaperon, graced the head of the table, and Curran sat at +her right hand. This left Pauline for Loft’s guest of honor, and as +she took her place beside him, he thought she had never looked more +beautiful. Her great dark eyes seemed brighter than usual and her +cheeks showed a flush that was quite obviously not rouge. She wore +black, her only ornament a long slender neck-chain of small bright +diamonds. She was in vivacious, almost perverse mood, quite unusual for +the calm, gracious Pauline. + +Anna, tonight, was demure and coy. She set herself the task of +subjugating Hugh Curran, and so far as she could see she was putting it +over. + +Yet the man was tricky, she could see that, and more than likely, she +thought, his devotion was insincere. + +Though commonplace looking, Curran had an air of easy superiority that +made him almost distinguished. But his round red face and sparse sandy +hair precluded all pretension to good looks. + +Countess Galaski was gorgeous. Robed in white satin, glittering +with jewels and autocratic of manner, she appropriated the best of +everything, was rude to everybody, and yet somehow charmed all by her +gay naïveté. + +Stella wore especially long and diaphanous draperies, of pale green and +silver, and looked more than ever like the Blessed Damosel. + +On the whole Loft had a right to feel proud of his guests, for aside +from their appearance they were a group of mentally alert and even +original talkers. + +But when the Countess began to expatiate on her marvelous collection of +miniatures, Anna gayly called a halt. + +“Countess, darling,” she said, “we beg of you to don’t. Mr. Curran is a +book collector and he’s crazy to talk Black Letters, or whatever they +are, with Angel Bob, who is an Old Book Fiend too. Val, of course, +collects everything, from books to old bandboxes, and I believe Mrs. +Meredith collects postcards. But they’ve all promised not to talk +Collect at the table. So, be goody-girl, Countess dear, and drop your +miniatures.” + +“Oh, very well,” and the Countess smiled at Little Anna, “the loss is +yours not mine. But I have to talk. I’ll tell you about--” + +“Wait a minute,” the incorrigible Roly dared to interrupt her, “since +we have Mr. Curran here, and Lord knows when I’ll ever get a chance at +him again, let’s talk Detective Stories. We all love ’em.” + +“Not all of us,” Anna dissented; “but you may talk on that subject for +fifteen minutes, Roly. After that, I shall choose the theme.” + +“To go back to a discussion we had the other day,” Angel Bob began, +“what do you think the best and finest method of murder, Mr. Curran?” + +Mrs. Meredith gave a little gasp at this, and her husband looked +shocked. + +But Curran took it as a matter of course. + +“Each method has its advantages,” he began. “And too, much depends on +the criminal. If he has any surgical training, stabbing is indicated, +if he has a good aim, shooting is better. An athlete would, of course, +strangle.” + +“And a woman would give poison,” said Pauline, slowly. + +“Yes,” and Hugh Curran looked at her, “yes, a woman probably would.” + +“If this conversation keeps up,” Mrs. Meredith spoke hysterically, “I +shall have to leave the table.” + +“Don’t be a fool, Madame!” exclaimed the Countess. “If you would read +De Quincey’s essay on Murder As A Fine Art, you would learn that the +greatest minds are willing to discuss such matters. One does not have +to be a spook to discuss Spiritualism!” + +“Spiritualism is a decent subject,” Mr. Meredith said; “whereas, murder +is, or should be, outside the pale of our thoughts.” + +“Well, you have to be dead before you can be a spirit,” the Countess +returned, “and if one is unfortunate enough to be murdered, there’s no +reason why those still alive shouldn’t talk about it.” + +“I’m for strangling,” Baldwin said; “then there’s no weapon,--no +‘feathers left around,’ you see. Also, granting one _wants_ to +kill a man, what a pleasure it must be to feel one’s fingers on his +throat,--tightening, closing in--tighter,--a gasp--” + +Angel Bob, in mischievous mood, portrayed his speech in dumb show, with +such realism that Mrs. Meredith shrieked and rose from the table. + +“Sit down” commanded the Countess, in ringing tones, and Mrs. Meredith +sat down. + +“I’d shoot,” and Ned Knox, picking up the theme, acted the part of an +intruder, taking aim at an unsuspicious victim. He chose Loft for his +purpose, and aimed a fork carefully at his right temple. + +“But I can see you,” Loft objected. + +“Turn your head away, then,” Knox counselled. + +“Shooting has disadvantages,” Curran said, musingly. “There’s the +noise.” + +“Silencer,” returned Knox. + +“Not always practicable. Then, there’s the weapon.” + +“Easy enough to dispose of,” Knox laughed, “except in fiction, where it +is needed as a clue,--if it has initials on it, or is one of a pair.” + +“Righto!” and Curran laughed appreciatively. “I’m glad to learn how you +readers are on to our hackneyed tricks. Stabbing is a good way--” + +“Yes,” Loft agreed; “with the library paper-cutter. Used to be an old +Italian dagger, and the victim many times said it ought not to be left +around, as it was a suggestion and a temptation to any murderous-minded +bystander.” + +“Oh, Lord, you know all the tricks of the trade!” Curran sighed in mock +despair. “I confess it’s hard to get a novelty for a story nowadays.” + +“But it’s easy to murder,” said Bob. + +“It isn’t,” contended Loft; “it’s possible, but it’s a delicate and +difficult affair to put over artistically. I’m not talking of yeggs and +gunmen.” + +“Except for them, it’s impossible.” Ned Knox averred. “I don’t propose +to try it for that reason. I know I’d fail.” + +“Of course you would,” and Anna giggled. “If you could put it over, +you’d have tried it on me long ago. I’ve given you sufficient +provocation, I know. Anyway, time’s up,--No more murder talk. Now, +we’ll discuss Mr. Curran. How do you all like him?” + +“Top hole!” cried Roly Mears. “But I want to know more about him. What +does he eat for breakfast? What--” + +“Wait till morning and you’ll find that out,” Loft interrupted. “I want +to know his real name. No secret, is it, Mr. Curran?” + +“Not a bit. I had another name, but I lost it, somehow. It’s my +besetting sin,--to lose things. I lost my wife, then I lost my +ambition. I found that again, though. But mostly I lose material +things. I can’t keep a pencil or a rubber or a sheet of paper, no +matter how many I buy. I’m just naturally untidy. My room always looks +like Broadway the day after Election night. My brushes just won’t stay +on my dresser; my clothes crawl out of their wardrobes and drawers. I +can’t help it,--are you like that, Miss Fuller?” + +Apparently he addressed Pauline because she was looking at him +intently, seemingly interested in his tale of his personal derelictions. + +“N--no,” she replied, looking startled at being thus spoken to. “I +don’t think so,--I--I never thought about it.” + +“Goodness, Pauline,” said Anna, staring at her, “don’t take it so +seriously. I can vouch for your tidiness. I never knew a girl who kept +her top bureau drawer in order as well as you do.” + +“That is a sure test,” declared the Countess. “I’ll bet Miss Lawrence’s +is a kaleidoscope of laces and ribbons, gloves and handkerchiefs.” + +“It is!” said Stella, good-naturedly. “And I want it so--With my +temperament, I couldn’t be methodical or systematic or anything like +that. Fate rules me--” + +“And you leave it to Fate to clear up your bureau drawers,” said Roly, +laughing. “Good idea, so do I.” + +“I don’t,” said Mrs. Meredith primly, but no one seemed to care deeply. + +The Merediths were out of place, but had been asked because of some +social obligation of Loft’s. They were shocked several times during +dinner, but perhaps Mrs. Meredith’s sensibilities were most greatly +jarred, when, leaving the dining room, she chanced to overhear Hugh +Curran ask the butler for a toothpick. + +The capable Binns didn’t allow himself to be jarred, but he was +bothered, for the request caught him unprepared. However, he quickly +bethought himself of the tiny Japanese wooden toothpicks that the cook +used to pin rolled morsels and he soon supplied the distinguished guest. + +Angel Bob noticed the incident and was more amused at Mrs. Meredith’s +disdain than at Curran’s unconventionality. + +The party broke up into smaller groups. + +Anna seized upon Curran, who went, nothing loath, with her to see the +moonlight from the upper terrace. + +Loft and Pauline went for a stroll in the rose garden; Roly Mears set +himself to tease Stella and to please the Countess, succeeding well +with both. + +As it neared bedtime, all gathered for good-nights in the library. + +“Tomorrow,” said Curran, as he looked at the filled shelves, “I want to +spend the morning in here. You have wonderful treasures, Mr. Loft, and +I anticipate joyous hours with them.” + +“I am clairvoyant, Mr. Curran,” Stella said, looking at him dreamily, +“and I can read your soul.” + +“Good Heavens, don’t, Miss Lawrence! It’s not fit reading for a young +girl!” + +“But I’m not like other girls,” Stella was determined to have her +innings, “I’m apart,--alone.” + +“Yes?” said Curran, not thinking of anything better to say. + +“Yes. And in your soul I read a longing for all that is beautiful and +good--” + +“I like them beautiful,--I’m not so insistent on the good,” and Curran +smiled. This line of talk always bored him. + +“Things, I mean, not people. Oh, I can read you, Mr. Curran.” + +“And I can read you, Miss Lawrence. I’m clairvoyant, myself.” + +“Oh, are you?” cried the Countess. “Read us all, won’t you? I don’t +care for Stella’s foolishness,--you shut up, Stella.” + +“Want a table?” asked Loft, “or any paraphernalia?” + +“Oh, I’m not a parlor Magician,” Curran protested. “I don’t know +anything about legerdemain or hocus-pocus. But I have a natural gift of +reading minds.” + +“Don’t do it!” exclaimed Roly Mears. “If these people know what I’m +thinking they’d never speak to me again!” + +“You’re joking,” said Curran, “but there are some really quaking in +their shoes, lest I tell something they don’t want told.” + +“I know!” said the Countess, “it’s Mrs. Meredith! I always suspected +she led a double life! Well, much as I want to know the truth about +it, I beg of you, Mr. Curran, don’t tell it all out in public.” + +Mrs. Meredith blushed angrily, but said nothing. She had learned it was +better not to irritate Countess Galaski. + +“Go on,” urged Anna. “Tell us something to prove your powers. I hate +people who say they can do things and then do nothing at all!” + +“Yes,” said the Countess, “go on! Tell anything you like about me.” + +“Very well,” said Curran, “you’re thinking that you wish you had worn +your old slippers after all, for the new ones are a bit tight and they +do pinch.” + +“You’re perfectly right!” and the Countess joined in the general +merriment. “But that isn’t clairvoyance. I’ve had my face screwed up +with pain all the evening!” + +“Well, how’s this, then? In the mind of one of you is a most +disquieting thought, which I may suggest by _Black Pansy_.” + +“That’s me!” said Ned Knox, as Curran waited for some response. “I’ve a +lot of stock in that mine, and unless she picks up soon, I’ll probably +start ‘Over the hills to the poorhouse!’” + +“How did you know it, though?” and Anna looked at Curran, incredulously. + +“Clairvoyance,” replied Curran, not caring to say that he had seen a +newspaper thrown down, with a marked notice about the mine. + +“Also,” he went on, “as I look around, I feel vibrations from others of +you.” + +He glanced from one face to another, all breathlessly watching him. + +“If I should say,” he spoke very slowly, “if I should say +_Rosalie_--would I reflect the word in anybody’s mind?” + +A dead silence followed. + +Removing their regard from Curran, one looked at another, but no one +spoke. + +Nor did any one look especially self-conscious. Loft looked inquiring, +Angel looked bewildered. The women looked merely interested, except +Pauline, who seemed bored. She moved restlessly, and stared hard at +Curran. + +“Right,” Curran said; “it’s better not to recognize the reference.” He +nodded his head as in satisfaction. + +“Suppose I say, ‘_Mr. S._’” he went on. “Is he in any one’s +thoughts?” + +Again the silence fell. + +Anna, frankly curious, glanced quickly from one to another. From +the faces, as she read them, the reference might mean something to +Valentine Loft or to Bob Baldwin. On the other hand, they might look +disturbed, as they both did, merely from interest in the proceedings. + +“Oh, well,” Curran resumed, “I see, the people who recognize my +allusions prefer not to say so. I don’t blame them. Now, Mrs. Knox, +shall I tell what’s in your mind? Shall I mention the name of--” + +“No!” screamed Anna, “no! If you do, I’ll kill you!” + +But she told her husband afterward that she only said this to make a +sensation. + +“Then,” said Curran, “I’ll read Miss Lawrence’s mind. Last night Miss +Lawrence dreamed--” + +“Stop!” Stella cried, her eyes staring; “if you dare divulge that +dream--” + +Curran smiled. He had made a stab in the dark, feeling sure that the +psychic Stella, would always be dreaming and interpreting her dreams +according to Freud. + +“Guess we’ve had enough of this sort of thing,” and Loft rose. “Don’t +trouble yourself, Mr. Curran, to read my mind, I can read it for +myself.” + +“Nothing startling in it just now,” Curran said; “but there will +be soon. I’m slightly prophetic as well as clairvoyant, and I +prognosticate a lot of surprising, even tragic thoughts for your mind +soon.” + +“All right, I’ll go to bed and sleep while the sleeping’s good, then,” +and Loft inaugurated good-nights, and the party dispersed. + +By next morning Loft had forgotten the irritation he felt at Curran’s +strange speech, and after his breakfast he went to the library to await +the coming of his guest to talk books. + +The women breakfasted in their rooms, the men dropping into the +breakfast room whenever they pleased. + +Loft was down first, but was soon joined by Angel and Ned Knox, both of +whom wanted to hear Curran discourse on the subject of rare books. + +“Keep your ears open, Bob, and find out what he wants,” advised Loft. +“You ought to be able to make a sale or two.” + +“Hope so,” Bob assented. “He wants only Incunabula, though, and that’s +not so easy come by just now.” + +But the hours passed, and no sign of Hugh Curran. + +At last, Loft, looking at the clock, said, “I’m annoyed. I have to go +over to the Club before luncheon, and the time is growing short. I’ve a +notion to send for Curran. I don’t believe he’s still asleep.” + +The butler was despatched to learn as to this, and was directed to be +discreet. + +Discretion itself, Binns returned to say that he could hear no sound +from Mr. Curran’s room and that though he had softly tried the door, it +was locked. + +They waited another half hour, and then Loft said, nervously, “You +don’t suppose anything has happened, do you? Maybe the man is ill.” + +“Nonsense,” said Knox, “Men don’t get ill overnight. He looked a +healthy chap.” + +“All the same, I’m going up myself,” and Loft went out to the hall. + +He soon returned, saying, “There must be something the matter. I +knocked and even pounded on his door, but got no response. I even +listened at the keyhole, and I couldn’t hear any breathing. Do you +suppose he left in the night?” + +“Through the window?” asked Angel. + +“Well, it’s queer. If we can’t get anything from him, I’m going to +break in.” + +“Oh, don’t do that!” cried Knox. “Send Binns up outside--to the +windows, you know.” + +“Can’t,--it’s so high.” + +“Ladder?” + +“Yes,--but--oh, I suppose it’s all right.” + +But after another hour, Loft declared he was going to get into that +room. + +“I’m responsible for him,” he said; “he’s my guest, and if he’s merely +sound asleep, he can’t do more than curse me for my intrusion.” + +No response being made to continued knockings, and no sound heard by +any of them listening, Loft ordered Binns to get a ladder and climb up +to the window. + +The butler did so, and returned to say that he could see Mr. Curran, +fully dressed, sitting in an arm chair. The window was fastened. +“Should he break in?” + +“Yes, by the door,” said Loft, suddenly determined. “That man must have +had a stroke or something, if he’s still dressed. In his evening togs, +Binns?” + +“Yes, sir.” + +“To work, then. You and I, together.” + +Loft and the butler put their shoulders to the bedroom door, and after +one or two efforts burst through. + +Hugh Curran sat in an arm chair, slightly relaxed in posture and as +they immediately discovered, stone dead. The body was cold, proving he +had died some hours previous. + +The four men looked at him and at each other. + +“Method?” asked Ned Knox, grimly. + +Loft looked about him. + +“I don’t see any weapon,” he said, shuddering, “but we can’t think +about that now. There’s too much to do. Binns, call up Doctor Gilvray.” + +“What earthly good can a doctor do?” asked Angel, his blue eyes staring +at the dead man. + +“We have to have him,” returned Loft, positively. + +“Yes,” agreed Knox, “he can tell whether it’s natural death, accident, +suicide or murder.” + +Angel looked at him curiously as he glibly rolled off these +possibilities. + +“Then,” Loft went on, “we must call the police--” + +“Not unless the doctor says so,” put in Angel. “If he says it’s a +stroke--” + +“That’s so, we’ll wait for his report. Now, the worst is, telling the +women. Ned, you tell Anna and let her tell the others. No, she’s too +emotional. Here’s a better plan. Angel, you ask the maids to get the +Countess to give you an interview. Then you tell her about it, and let +her tell Stella and the Merediths. I’ll tell Pauline, myself.” + +“Are the girls up?” + +“They’d better get up. The housekeeper can tell them to do so, but let +them hear of the--this--from one of us.” + +“I suppose there’ll be fainting and hysterics,” said Bob, +apprehensively, as he started on his unhappy errand. + +“Maybe,--from Stella. Not the others,” said Knox. “I won’t let Anna +make a scene,--not outside our rooms, anyway.” + +The two men went away, and Binns having gone to telephone, Valentine +Loft was left alone with his dead guest. + +He looked about the room. It was clear that Curran had not begun to get +ready for bed. He had not even removed tie or collar. + +Yet the room was in disorder. Near the dead man’s chair were two books +on the floor, several newspapers, a few scattered cigar ashes, some +bits of torn paper, two lead pencils,-- + +Loft’s mental cataloguing of these articles was interrupted by the +arrival of the doctor. + + + + + CHAPTER IV + + THE MEREDITH STORY + + +“WHO is this man?” asked Doctor Gilvray, sharply, as he strode across +the room to look for himself on the dead man’s features. + +“Hugh Curran,” Loft answered, briefly. “A fairly well-known author of +fiction--” + +“Yes, yes, I know Curran,--sleuth stories,--good ones, too. H’m,--been +dead several hours,--six or eight, surely. Bad symptoms--” + +“What do you mean by symptoms?” Loft showed an eager curiosity. + +“Look at his face--cyanotic. Eyes wide open,--signs of bloody froth on +his lips,--teeth tight clenched,--this man--” the doctor stopped to +sniff at Curran’s mouth,--“yes, this man died of poison,--Hydrocyanic +acid. Suicide?” + +“Good Lord, I don’t know!” Valentine Loft stared. “I scarcely know him +at all,--but, no,--I’m sure he wouldn’t commit suicide,--he had all +sorts of things to live for!” + +“Well--well,--let’s look further. Ah, yes, yes,--it’s Prussic acid, +for sure. There’s a distinct odor of it on his lips. So, he either took +the stuff voluntarily,--or, it was administered by someone else.” + +“But--” Loft looked puzzled. “But the room was locked.” + +“That would argue suicide,--but then, I see no container, do you? The +poison must have acted instantaneously, and he would have had no more +than time to fling away the paper or bottle,--scarcely that. He would +more likely have dropped it where he sat. Has any one interfered with +the room in any way?” + +“No one. I’ve been here alone ever since we discovered this. And I’ve +touched nothing,--nothing at all.” + +“There’ll have to be an autopsy,--and, of course, you realize, Mr. +Loft, it’s a case for the police. I shall have to notify them at once.” + +“Oh, what a horrible situation. I’ve a house party here,--and, +aside from that, I don’t want my home invaded by a lot of snooping +detectives--and all for a perfect stranger.” + +“How’d he happen to be here?” + +“The people felt interested in him,--as a sort of celebrity,--and I +asked him for a week-end visit. See here,--if anybody did for him, how +did the intruder get in? We had to break in this morning.” + +“One of those seemingly insoluble mysteries of entrance, that always +proves to be a simple matter after all. Any of the servants have a pass +key?” + +“No; and, anyway, the key was in the lock.” + +“Well, that’s outside my jurisdiction. I’ll have Detective Kinney put +on this,--he’s a sharp one. Now, get your household together,--say, in +the library, and I’ll have to question them pretty closely.” + +“Awful nuisance,--but I know it must be done. I wish I’d never seen +Hugh Curran!” + +“Where is his home? Where are his people?” + +“I don’t know. He hails from Indiana, but I think he lives in New York +just now. The Club people will know all about him. Now, Doctor, Miss +Fuller, my promised wife, is staying here. I want to tell her of this +matter myself. And,--I wish you could excuse her from the general +inquiry--” + +“Can’t be done. Must have everybody present, servants and all. I +daresay some can be quickly dismissed, but I must get all the testimony +possible. It’s a strange case, I think,--though it may turn out a +simple matter after all. Go ahead, Mr. Loft, and tell the lady about +it, and I’ll call Police Headquarters and get busy at once. Is there a +telephone in the hall? Yes? Well, I’ll lock this room door against my +return. Oh, the lock is fairly burst off! Never mind,--I can keep my +eye on it. I don’t want anyone meddling in there.” + +“Here’s Baldwin,” Loft said, as they met Bob in the hall. “Mount guard +in Curran’s room, Angel, while the doctor is telephoning.” + +“Don’t like the job, but I’ll do it,” Baldwin said, a rueful look on +his usually smiling face. “Hurry up all you can, Doctor.” + +Loft went away to seek Pauline. He found her in the pretty sitting room +that belonged to her suite, and though she had not yet been told of the +tragedy, she knew from various unexplained stirrings about the house +that something had happened. + +“What is it, Val?” she asked, “what has happened?” + +Gently he told her the bare facts as he knew them. He had feared she +would be greatly shocked, possibly hysterical, but he was not prepared +for the utter prostration that overtook her. + +She gasped, choked for breath and almost fainted. + +“No, don’t call anybody,” she asked, as he started for the door. “I’ll +be all right in a minute. Why--who--who did it?” + +“Pauline, darling, we don’t know that anybody did. It may be the man +took his own life. Doctor Gilvray isn’t certain. And maybe it’s a +stroke of some sort. Gilvray thought he detected the odor of bitter +almonds, but I couldn’t notice it. And the room was locked, and there’s +no bottle or paper to be found,--so I’m inclined to think it may have +been a stroke.” + +“Do you?” Pauline gazed into his eyes. “Do you, really, Val?” + +“Yes, dear, I do. But why are you so concerned? To be sure the +occurrence itself is awful,--coming as it does during this visit of +yours, that was to be such a gay, happy party. But aside from that, +you’ve no personal interest in Curran, have you?” + +“Oh, no, no. Of course not. How could I have? I saw him for the first +time yesterday,--_yesterday_.” + +“That is so, dear, isn’t it? You never saw Hugh Curran before?” + +“I never laid eyes on Hugh Curran until yesterday,” she averred, +almost solemnly, and with a straightforward gaze at Loft. “And I hope I +need never lay eyes on him again.” + +“No, sweetheart, no, of course not. We will have--him taken away just +as soon as possible. But,--I’m sorry,--you’ll have to come downstairs +now, and answer a few questions the Examiner will ask you.” + +“Oh, no, Valentine! I can’t,--I _can’t_! Don’t make me do that! +Please, please, dear, if you love me,--don’t make me do that!” + +“I’m not making you, Pauline,--I tried to get you off. But it is +imperative,--it is the law--” + +“I don’t care if it is the law,--I can’t I--can’t--” she broke into +deep, silent sobbing. + +“My precious girl, I’d save you this ordeal if it were in any way +possible to do so. But it isn’t. The detective will come up here if you +don’t go down. And think, Pauline, it isn’t any more than the rest will +do. Anna, Stella, the Countess, the Merediths,--all of us have to do +the same. You will be asked only a few perfunctory questions,--it will +be over in a few minutes. Whereas,” he looked stern, “whereas dear, if +you refuse, it will look strange,--even--suspicious--” + +“Oh, of course I’ll go, Val. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I only +felt scared and horrified at first. Shall we go now?” + +Suddenly Pauline had regained her poise, and was her own calm self +again. She turned to Loft, her sweet face submissive, even willing to +obey his request. + +“Yes, come now. The others are gathered, I daresay. Don’t talk much, +Pauline. Just answer what they ask, carefully and concisely.” + +“Why, Val, what do you mean? Is there any--any danger--” + +“No, of course not. But it’s never wise to dilate on the subject you’re +asked about. However, tell all you know, of course.” + +“I’ll glance at you, and if I’m doing all right you nod. If not shake +your head.” + +“Very well. Oh, I’m so sorry, Pauline, that you must do this.” + +“Never mind, it’s all right. Come along.” + +Together they went downstairs. + +Their interview had been longer than Loft realized, and the household +had assembled in the library. + +The whole atmosphere of the house seemed changed. + +Pauline had shuddered as they passed an officer in the hall, and +another was to be seen patrolling the front terrace. + +In the library Doctor Gilvray and Detective Kinney were ready to begin +their inquiries. + +“We needn’t be over formal,” the Doctor said. “First, Mr. Loft, you +will tell all you know of Hugh Curran and how he came to be your guest.” + +Valentine Loft stated clearly and concisely the little he knew of the +author, and explained that he had invited him merely because his guests +were interested and also because Mr. Curran had expressed a desire to +talk with Mr. Baldwin on the subject of old and rare books. + +“He wanted to see your collection too, Val,” Angel put in, as if +disclaiming the entire responsibility. + +“Yes,--he said he meant to spend this morning in the library,” Loft +returned, looking about him in rather an awed way. + +“Then that doesn’t point to a suicide,” said the Detective, quickly. + +“No, and it wasn’t a suicide,” Doctor Gilvray declared. “The man was +murdered.” + +At this Anna gave a gasp of horror, and clutched at her husband’s arm. + +“And you were all discussing murder,--and how it could be done!” she +cried, in an hysterical whisper that ended in a faint shriek. + +“What’s that?” asked Kinney, “all discussing methods of murder? When?” + +“Last night,” said Loft, calmly. “Mr. Curran was a Detective Story +writer and we all talked of such matters to him.” + +“Yes, we did,” Stella Lawrence said; “and each chose a different means. +And last night I dreamed--” + +“Now, Stella,” Anna interrupted, “you will not tell your dream, I +forbid it!” + +“We don’t care especially for dreams,” the Doctor said, “we want facts. +Will you each in turn please tell me, if you heard or saw anything +suspicious or unusual,--after you had said good-night and gone to your +rooms? You, Mr. Loft?” + +“Not a thing,” said Loft, promptly. “I closed my bedroom door, and +heard nothing at all till morning.” + +Ned Knox and Angel Bob Baldwin said the same thing, and declared they +had heard nothing whatever. + +But Mr. Meredith was more informative. + +“I did,” he asserted; “I heard footsteps in the hall several times +after I had retired.” + +“You were wakeful?” asked Kinney. + +“I’m a poor sleeper always. Mrs. Meredith slept soundly, and was not +disturbed, but I heard a stealthy tread passing my door, and thinking +it might be some one desiring me I opened my door and looked out.” + +“Whom did you see?” + +“I don’t know who it was, but I saw someone just disappearing into Mr. +Curran’s room, and the door closed at once.” + +“You are sure it wasn’t Mr. Curran himself?” + +“I think not, because I heard voices talking. Of course I could make +out no words, of course I didn’t try to do so, but it was either Mr. +Curran or a visitor of his who went in at that door.” + +“The hall was dark?” + +“Dimly lighted by a low light at the farther end. It was fairly dark at +our end.” + +“And this man that you saw--” + +“Pardon me, sir,” Mr. Meredith’s voice was apologetic, “I didn’t say it +was a man.” + +“Was it not?” + +“I don’t think so.” + +“Ah; could it have been a chambermaid, with fresh towels?” + +“It might have been.” + +“You know it was a woman?” + +“It was a person wearing a long, dark shawl or cape, as if to conceal +the figure. As I say, it was dark, and I could not see her clearly, +but,--yes, if I am asked, I must say it was quite evidently a woman.” + +“You did not recognize her identity?” + +“I did not. As soon as I saw the matter in no way concerned me, I +closed my door and went back to bed.” + +“You heard nothing further?” + +“Perhaps half an hour later I heard Mr. Curran’s door open again.” + +“And the lady came out?” + +“I don’t know. I didn’t open my own door that time. It was none of my +affair.” + +“At what time was this, Mr. Meredith?” + +“This last time was shortly after half-past two.” + +“How do you know?” + +“The clock in the upper hall strikes the half hours. In my wakefulness +I had heard it strike half-past one, and two o’clock, and this time +it struck half-past two. It was a few moments later that I heard Mr. +Curran’s door open and shut for the second time.” + +“And you didn’t look out into the hall?” + +“No.” + +“Did you hear anything?” + +“I heard light footsteps,--so light as to be scarcely audible.” + +“Passing your door?” + +“Yes; going along the hall.” + +“Then you heard any other door open or shut?” + +“I did not,--though I listened for it.” + +“And you have no idea who the woman was?” + +“Not the slightest.” + +“Was she tall or short?” + +“Neither, especially. I saw only the dim figure, apparently a woman, +with a long shawl or robe that concealed the outlines of her figure.” + +“Did she wear anything on her head?” + +“I couldn’t notice anything. The light was too faint to discern that.” + +“It must have been a housekeeper or maid taking some forgotten +necessaries to his room,” said Loft, decidedly. “There is no other +explanation.” + +“You can’t make a suspect out of that woman, anyway,” put in Roly +Mears. “For, you see, whoever it was, Mr. Curran locked his door after +her departure.” + +“If Mr. Curran was murdered, he couldn’t have locked his door after the +murderer,” said Detective Kinney, curtly. + +“Nor could the murderer have locked it after himself,” said Bob. +“That’s a hard nut, Mr. Kinney. How are you going to crack it?” + +“I’m not taking the case by that handle,” Kinney said, with a dogged +expression. “I start first with an investigation of the whereabouts and +doings of everyone in the house; next, I look for a motive--” + +“That’s a sorry quest,” Loft said; “no one in this house could have +possibly had a motive for murdering Hugh Curran. There’s an absolute +fact to start with.” + +“Nothing of the sort,” snapped the Countess. “You don’t know, +Valentine, that some of your servants hadn’t a previous acquaintance +with that man,--and, maybe, had some old grudge to pay off,--something +serious enough to call forth such revenge as murder. I had small use +for Mr. Curran myself.” + +“Tut, tut; Countess,” began Roly Mears, but she interrupted him: + +“Don’t you tut tut me! I merely say such a thing is possible, and +Valentine has no right to say it isn’t.” + +“As a matter of fact,” Loft returned, “I wasn’t thinking of the +servants. It is possible in their case, I suppose. But I meant that all +of us, never having met Hugh Curran before, surely had no motive for +murdering him.” + +“I’ve met him before,” said Angel, “but only in the relation of client +and book dealer,--and our transactions were always most amicable and +satisfactory.” + +“Don’t be silly!” and Loft began to lose patience. “I meant and I +repeat it, Mr. Kinney, neither I, myself, nor any of my guests have +had sufficient social acquaintance with Mr. Curran to have felt enmity +toward him or to have any motive for killing him. I trust you will +find out who did it,--if it is a murder; I trust you will prove it +a suicide if it is one; but in any case, I hope you will be able to +remove the body shortly, and to finish up this inquiry as soon as may +be, and leave us to ourselves.” + +“I should be glad to do all that, Mr. Loft,” the detective said looking +serious, “but these things are not so easily disposed of. It is my duty +to investigate thoroughly, and my duty must be done. These inquiries +are necessary as a preliminary measure, and then I shall proceed to the +real work of investigation. Mrs. Knox, I learn that the rooms occupied +by you and your husband are near Mr. Curran’s room also,--did you see +or hear this woman Mr. Meredith tells of?” + +“No, I didn’t,” replied Anna, haughtily, “and he didn’t either. Mr. +Meredith dreamed that or imagined it. Who in the world would be +trailing into Mr. Curran’s room at that hour? Maids don’t take towels +to guests after midnight,--had Mr. Curran wanted any service, the +butler would have looked after him. None of the ladies of our house +party visited Mr. Curran in his room and so I say Mr. Meredith dreamed +or imagined that whole yarn!” + +“That’s right, Anna,” and the Countess nodded her head, emphatically. +“If any one did go there, it must have been Mrs. Meredith--” + +“Madam!” interrupted Mrs. Meredith’s husband. + +“Why not?” asked the Countess, coolly. “She might have heard the poor +man having a stroke or an illness, and thought she could be of help. +Mrs. Meredith is, of course, of an age when such a kind act would not +be unfitting.” + +“I can assure you, Mrs. Meredith did nothing of the sort. I resent your +implication that she might have done so!” + +“But, Mr. Meredith,” Anna’s tone was velvety though her eyes glittered, +“you laid us all open to that same implication. You declared that some +one of us went into Mr. Curran’s room.” + +“I am not considering the manners or morals of this party,” Doctor +Gilvray said, severely. “As County Medical Examiner, it is my place +to learn all I can regarding this affair. I wish you all to speak as +frankly as Mr. Meredith has done--” + +“Whether it’s true or not?” said Anna, flippantly. + +“I want only the truth. Mrs. Knox, from your brief acquaintance with +Mr. Curran, would you say he was a man on the verge of committing +suicide?” + +“Most certainly not,” said Anna, promptly. “He had too many irons in +the fire. He was too deeply in love with life. His new book will be +published next week. His recent book, made into a Moving Picture, will +be released shortly, and he looked forward with eagerness to seeing it +on the films. No, sir, last night, that man had no more intention of +committing suicide than I have this minute!” + +“You liked him, Mrs. Knox?” + +“Very much,” said Anna, heartily. “He was entertaining, witty, +courteous,--and, a trifle flirtatious.” + +“Ah, a fine line of virtues. You learned a great deal of him in one +evening.” + +“Yes, I did. We went for a long walk, and he told me a lot about +himself.” + +“He did! Then perhaps you can tell us of his life,--his home.” + +“He had no home,--I mean no house. He lived at hotels or clubs, rather +a roamer, I gathered,--going from one city to another as the whim took +him.” + +“He was married?” + +“He had been. He was divorced.” + +“Recently?” + +“About six years ago, I think he said.” + +“Do you know whom he married?” + +“He did not mention her name to me. I suppose it could be easily +learned.” + +“I daresay. Did he mention the cause of his divorce?” + +“He did not. We merely touched on the subject. I had no curiosity +concerning the lady. He was simply an amusing companion for an evening. +That’s all I know of Mr. Hugh Curran.” + +“And you know nothing more of him, Mr. Knox?” + +“Nothing whatever, and I wish I knew less! I did not like him at all. I +thought him egoistical and unduly familiar.” + +“Oh, come, now, Ned,” Angel put in; “don’t show off your asinine +jealousy just now. Curran was all right,--an all-round good sort. +We all know why you don’t cotton to him, but don’t lug it into your +testimony.” + +“I have no testimony to give,” Knox said, sullenly. “I know nothing at +all of the matter, and I want to know nothing. I hope, with Mr. Loft, +you will arrange to remove the remains as soon as you can do so.” + +“That will be attended to as quickly as possible,” Doctor Gilvray +assured him, and the sapient Examiner smiled to himself at this +exhibition of marital jealousy. + +But indeed, Anna not infrequently gave her faithful and devoted husband +a bad quarter of an hour because of her various coquetries. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + ROLY TAKES THE LEAD + + +IT was a wearisome grilling, and it got them nowhere. + +Detective Kinney was logical and consequent in his questionings and +Doctor Gilvray was keen and shrewd in his comments and deductions, but +when it was over nobody seemed to know anything save that Hugh Curran +was dead. + +Some held the opinion that he had committed suicide, others that he was +murdered, but most of the listeners to the scanty evidence were utterly +at sea as to any satisfactory conclusion. + +“It is the old problem, after all,” said Roly Mears, his round, jolly +face unusually grave. “An inexplicable death in an unenterable room. +What’s the answer?” + +“Ned,” Loft said, suddenly, “you said these Sealed Room detective +stories bored you to death because they were so easy of solution.” + +“No, Val, I didn’t quite say that. I said they bored me because I’d +read so many, and the solution was rarely a satisfying one. However, +here’s a real problem of that sort right under our noses. It’ll be +queer if we can’t, some of us, dope it out.” + +“I say so, too,” cried Roly. “Let’s do the detective work +ourselves,--under Mr. Kinney’s supervision, of course.” + +He added the last phrase because of a somewhat indignant expression on +the detective’s face. + +“I’ll tell you what,” said Angel, “let’s organize a detective squad +of our own,--us four, you know,--Val, Ned, Roly and myself, and work +independently of Mr. Kinney, but reporting to him any findings or +conclusions that we consider worth while.” + +Kinney looked rather patronizing, but nodded his head indulgently. +“I’ll be glad of any help,” he said, sincerely, but didn’t add his +secret thought, which was that precious little help was likely to reach +him from the quartette of amateur detectives. + +“And remember this,” said the Countess, in her acid way, “you +men were all discussing the ease and grace of certain methods of +assassination,--suppose one of you should turn out to be the criminal.” + +“Such jesting is very ill-timed, Countess,” Anna flared out, “you ought +to be ashamed of yourself.” + +“Perhaps she isn’t jesting,” said Pauline, slowly. + +“Then she ought to be even more ashamed of herself!” Anna declared. +“Anyway, I’m going to help in this detective business,--I’ve the +instinct, or whatever you call it, myself. I can deduce,--and all that.” + +“So can I,” said Stella. “And I have psychic powers--” + +“We don’t want those,” said Knox. “Deliver me from spook messages about +a mystery. They only make matters worse.” + +“I want nothing to do with it,” Pauline said, decidedly. “And I wish +you men wouldn’t take it up. You’ll only get notoriety and horrid +publicity without accomplishing anything. What can you do, more than +professional detectives can?” + +“Oh, lots,” Roly Mears assured her. “Why, it’s a chance of a lifetime. +You see, while we’re all sorry for the poor chap, yet it isn’t the +grief we would feel for a more personal friend,--and, so, we’re free to +follow up clues and evidences, no matter where they lead. Now, here’s +my platform. The death of Hugh Curran was not a natural death, nor +an accidental one, either. The doctor vouches for that. The man was +either killed by another or he killed himself. To my mind, the suicide +theory is out of the question, for the simple reason that no container +of the poison can be found.” + +“Has been found,” corrected Angel. “Perhaps it will yet be discovered.” + +“We haven’t searched Curran’s room yet,” said Roly. “I mean searched it +carefully,--for clues, you know.” + +“Then let’s do it now,” proposed Knox. “If Doctor Gilvray wants to +question us more, later, we’ll all be here. I’ve no intention of +leaving.” + +“I’d like very much to go,” said Mr. Meredith, mildly. “These +unfortunate circumstances are trying to my wife’s nerves, and, I admit, +also to my own. If nobody objects, we’d like to leave on the afternoon +train.” + +“I want you all to do exactly as you please, in that matter,” Loft +said, courteously. “Unless the authorities wish to hold anybody, let +each one feel free to carry out his or her own wishes. Pauline, dear, +do you want to go?” + +Pauline’s face was a study. She looked pitifully at Loft, and seeing +his own evident anxiety regarding her decision, she said, after a +moment’s pause; “I’ll stay, please. I know, Valentine, you’ll have lots +of bothers and responsibilities, and perhaps I can share them,--or help +you in some way.” + +“You’ll help me just by your presence,” he assured her, and his smile +of relief told her how glad he was at her decision to stay. + +“I shall stay,” declared the Countess. “It all interests me +exceedingly, and I want to see how the case works out.” + +“I want to go,” Anna said, “and I want to go quick. Ned, can’t we get +off this afternoon, when the Merediths go?” + +“I think not,” said Knox, with so positive an air that Anna began to +pout. She well knew that when her husband’s face assumed that look of +absolute finality, all her pleas and prayers were of no avail. + +Almost always she wound her easy-going husband round her finger, but +when he was determined on any subject, it was not in her power to move +him. + +“Moreover, Anna,” the Countess said, “I doubt if any of these men would +be allowed to leave the place until the mystery is cleared up. You seem +to forget that if Mr. Curran was murdered, it must have been by someone +in the house--” + +“Nonsense, Countess!” Loft exclaimed, “if you talk like that, I’ll send +you away.” + +“Perhaps the Countess herself is the criminal,” said Anna, spitefully. +“For all we know, she has known Mr. Curran before. And the veiled woman +that Mr. Meredith saw has yet to be identified.” + +“I didn’t say veiled,” Mr. Meredith put in, mildly. + +“Well, shawled, scarfed,--whatever she was,” Anna cried. “Anyway, she +must be named, before we can go much further.” + +“We!” said her husband. “Are you too helping in the detective work?” + +“If you are, Ned. I will take it on myself to hunt out that woman, if +you like.” + +“Oh, Anna,” said Pauline, greatly distressed, “don’t mix up in these +awful matters. It’s bad enough to have the men do it, but let us women +keep out of it!” + +“I shan’t keep out of it,” said Stella, decidedly. “I shall stay, of +course, and I know I can help some. You’ll all be glad of my assistance +before you’re through.” + +“Perhaps you can dream who that woman was,” Anna suggested. + +“Perhaps I can,” and Stella looked or tried to look mystical. “I can +sometimes summon dreams that are revelations.” + +“Never mind that part of it,” said Mears, impatiently. “It seems you’re +all going to stay except the Merediths. But you women must keep out of +the actual investigations. If I take the lead in this thing--” + +“Who asked you to?” cried Angel. + +“Since I am taking the lead in this thing,” Mears went on, “I propose +that we first go and take a look at the room. I’m sure that we must +find among Curran’s belongings some hint or clue to the whole matter.” + +“It’s a little unusual to have a band of amateur detectives working +with the officers of the law,” said Doctor Gilvray, slowly, “but in +this very strange case, I’m not sure but it’s a good thing. You men are +shrewd and keen,--you may discover some important evidence. I hope, +Kinney, you will raise no objections.” + +“Not a bit, sir. I’m quite ready to accept any help they can give +me. But I must reserve the right to pass on their findings, whether +material evidence or deductions.” + +“All right, old top,” Mears said, “we agree to that. It’s much better +to work in harmony than to be pitted against you.” + +The body of Hugh Curran had been removed to the establishment of the +local undertaker, and an autopsy had been held. + +The final report of this was brought to Doctor Gilvray, and he read it +to himself before announcing its contents. + +“It’s a bit strange,” he said at last. “The death of Mr. Curran was +positively due to hydrocyanic acid,--which, as you doubtless know, +is Prussic acid,--a deadly poison. This was administered through the +mouth, as the odor was distinct and unmistakable. But no traces are +found in the stomach.” + +“Yet the poison must have been swallowed to produce death?” said Knox +interrogatively. + +“Probably,--yet not quite necessarily. However, I can’t conceive of a +circumstance which would imply the poison in his mouth and not in his +stomach, unless he ejected it at once. And there is no evidence of +that.” + +“Look here, doctor,” Mears said; “reconstruct the case. I hold suicide +impossible, because that poison must have been a powder, in a paper, +or, a liquid, in a vial. Isn’t that true?” + +“Yes,” said Gilvray, briefly. + +“Then as we find no paper and no vial, it must have been administered +by someone else. It must have been done purposely. Therefore it was +murder. There is no alternative. As to how the murderer left the room +locked behind him,--that is the problem we must solve. And no matter +how difficult, it will be easier than to prove a suicide with no +container to be found.” + +“Sounds plausible, Roly,” Angel said, his blue eyes staring into +vacancy, as they always did when his imagination was working. “But +you’ve neglected one theory. Suppose Curran did take the poison +himself, and suppose there was someone in his room later, who removed +the bottle or the paper.” + +“Why would he?” said Mears, thinking hard. + +“I don’t know, I’m sure. Only, if a murderer could get out, leaving the +door locked behind him, so could a man who was not the murderer.” + +“That’s surely true, Angel, but I can’t see any reason for it.” + +“We can’t see any reason for the murder,--or the suicide, or whatever +it is,” Loft said; “But, to my mind, we can investigate just the same +before we know which it is,--and so perhaps discover which it is. +Though, first of all, I think we must find out about Curran’s people.” + +“You don’t have to do that, Val; the police are taking charge of it +all.” It was Pauline who spoke, and her voice was infinitely gentle, as +if glad to relieve Loft of any responsibilities. + +“Yes,” Kinney told them, “we are making wide inquiries. We’ve sent a +man down to New York to look through Curran’s rooms at the hotel where +he lived.” + +“What about the Country Club up here?” Knox asked. “Is he a member, or +who put him up?” + +“No, he wasn’t a member,” Kinney said; “and he had letters from John +Bingham and Augustus Hedden,--each putting him up for two weeks. It’s +all right that way, but Mr. Bingham and Mr. Hedden are both in Europe, +and we can’t get in touch with them immediately. However, we’ve no +reason to think of Mr. Curran other than as a first class and right +minded gentleman. I’ve sent another officer to his publishers in +New York. We’ll soon learn all about Mr. Curran’s circumstances and +relatives. And of course that knowledge may give us a line on the +criminal. But, so far, we’ve not the ghost of a suspicion of the motive +behind the crime.” + +“That’s what makes it interesting,” insisted Mears. “And there are +queer things about it. For instance, where’s Curran’s watch?” + +“Did he have one?” asked Doctor Gilvray. “There was none on his watch +fob when I looked him over.” + +“He had one on last night,” Stella informed them. “I saw him take it +out and look at it twice during the evening.” + +“So did I,” said Bob. “It was a very thin gold one, on a fob. He had it +in his trousers pocket.” + +“Yes, I noticed it,” the Countess offered. “I saw him open it, too. +There was a picture in the case,--a woman.” + +“Could you see it?” asked Angel. + +“Not to recognize it,” the Countess replied. “I only caught a glimpse +of a woman’s face.” + +“And that watch is gone?” cried Kinney. “Then that’s a clue in itself! +The woman took it!” + +“What woman?” + +“The one Mr. Meredith saw going into Curran’s room.” + +“And she killed him?” asked Stella, her eyes large and bright with +interest. + +“Now, look here,” said Mears, “you’re going too fast. That watch may be +in his room. He may have taken it from his pocket--” + +“Then he left the fob in its place,” said the doctor. “For I took his +valuables myself, and gave them over to Kinney. There was a fob, and +three pearl studs and a collar button,--real gold,--and cuff-links.” + +“Anything else in his pockets?” asked Loft. + +“Only a couple of handkerchiefs and a bunch of keys,--a very small +bunch. Oh, yes, a short lead pencil, and a card or two,--of no +evidential importance.” + +“Evidential importance is a serious thing,” said Mears, didactically. +“You can’t always recognize it at first. Come on, I’m impatient to +examine that room. Now, Kinney you may come, and we four men,--that’s +all. You women cannot!” + +This last was emphatic, because Anna and the Countess had risen quickly +from their chairs with every indication of joining the party. + +Anna pouted and the Countess stormed, but to no avail. They were not +allowed to have their way, and the five men went off together. + +The room had not been disturbed in any way. Save for the absence of the +still, stark body they had seen in the easy chair, everything was the +same as they had seen it at the time of the forced entrance. + +“Don’t touch things, boys,” begged Mears. “Let’s work together and +systematically. First, we know Curran had not begun to prepare for bed. +He had apparently sat down in his chair for a time. He had not smoked, +though.” + +“Why, Roly, see the cigar ashes on the floor!” and Loft pointed down. + +“Those he scattered before dinner,” said Mears, imperturbably. “You +see, the ash trays on the table at his side are clean and empty. I know +the chambermaid cleans those when she turns down the bed, I can tell +from my own room. And there are no burnt matches, no stubs of cigars or +cigarettes. So, I know those few ashes on the floor were strewn there +in the afternoon. Curran was an untidy sort, and I daresay the maid +wasn’t overparticular,--or, she failed to notice the ashes. Anyway, I +am sure he didn’t smoke after he came to his room last night. What did +he smoke?” + +This was all self-evident, for had he smoked there must have been a +stub or a match in evidence. + +Kinney looked at Mears with growing respect, and awaited his next words. + +“Now, there’s that little basket of nuts.” Roly stared hard at a +small filigree silver basket on the table. It was half full of salted +almonds. “Where did that come from?” + +“That was on the dinner table,” Loft said, promptly. “I suppose after +dinner, it was on the sideboard,--Binns would put it there,--and +perhaps Curran was fond of nuts and brought it upstairs with him.” + +“Wrong,” said Angel, looking a little amused. “I brought it up to him. +As we all started upstairs, I asked Curran if he wanted anything. And +he said, ‘I’m ravenous for some of those salted nuts we had at dinner.’ +So I went to the dining room, corralled the basket and brought it up +here to him.” + +“Then you were in this room with him?” said Kinney. + +“Yes, stayed fifteen or twenty minutes. He got started on old books, +and he would have talked on forever, but I was sleepy, so I told him +I’d discuss the things in the morning.” + +“Describe the whole interview,” said Kinney, briefly. + +“All right,” said Angel. “I brought up the nuts, tapped at the door, +and Curran said, ‘Come in.’ So I came in, and Curran closed the door +after me.” + +“Why did he do that?” + +“I thought it queer myself at first, but he wanted to ask me to get him +a special book, and the details were rather a private matter.” + +“Of course,” Mears said. “Go on, Angel, did he like the nuts?” + +“Yes, he thanked me, and began eating them. But rather +absent-mindedly,--as to the nuts, I mean,--for he was deeply interested +in the book he wanted me to get for him.” + +“What was the book?” asked Kinney. + +“It is a rare old book,--a Caxton, dated 1485. It is called ‘A Book of +the Noble History of King Arthur.’ Here is the catalogue, you may see +the item.” + +Baldwin picked up a bookdealer’s catalogue from the table, and opened +it at a turned down and well-thumbed page. The item was as he had +stated it. + +“Woodcuts!” exclaimed Loft, his eyes glistening at the description. “I +say, Angel, get it for me, will you?” + +“If you like,” said Baldwin, “and if you want to pay for it. It’s worth +a mint of money.” + +“Well, I’ll have to think it over. Go on with your story.” + +“That’s about all,” said Baldwin. “We talked over the book, Mr. Curran +was most desirous to have it, and I promised to do the best I could +about the price. Then, though he asked me to stay and have a smoke, I +didn’t care about it, and I left him and went to my room.” + +“Did he seem in any way excited or nervous?” Kinney inquired. + +“Not a bit nervous. A little excited about the book. Collectors are +always excited over an important purchase.” + +“And you left him sitting in that chair?” + +“I left him sitting almost exactly as he was found this morning. When +I went out the door, I said ‘don’t rise,’ and he didn’t. I closed the +door behind me. He must have risen later, to lock it, but, apparently +he returned to the same seat,--even the same posture. I have no doubt +he pored over the book catalogue again.” + +“At what time was all this, Mr. Baldwin?” the detective asked. + +“Let me see; we came upstairs shortly after midnight. About +twelve-fifteen, wasn’t it, Val?” + +“About that.” + +“And I daresay I was in here with Curran half an hour, or less. I left +him, I judge at about twenty minutes or quarter before one.” + +“Was he then wearing his watch?” + +“I’ve no idea. If so, he didn’t look at it while I was with him.” + +“He sure was an untidy person,” said Mears, glancing about the floor. + +It was strewed with Curran’s belongings as well as with worthless +trash. Parts of one or two newspapers had evidently been flung aside +after reading, and were in various parts of the room. Near the desk, +Curran had evidently sharpened a lead pencil, dropping the chips on the +rug. Near the dresser, whose top drawer was open, two handkerchiefs, +clean ones, lay on the floor, and two more on the dresser top, while +those in the drawer were tossed in a rumpled heap. + +“He went for a handkerchief, and tossed over the whole lot to find the +one he wanted,” said Kinney. + +“Or to find something he had hidden under the heap,” Mears suggested. + +The detective stared at him. + +“You’re uncanny,” he said; “you’re doubtless right! Why would he go for +a clean handkerchief with two in his pockets?” + +“Why, Roly, you’re the real thing in sleuths!” Knox exclaimed. “Go to +it, boy! We’ll get at the truth yet!” + +“Will you help, Ned?” + +“Of course, all I can. What next, Roly?” + +“Well, here are all these torn papers on the floor near the chair +he sat in. I doubt if they mean much, even if we could piece them +together, for he wouldn’t throw around anything of a private nature. +However, I’ll piece ’em out, and see. Hello, among them is a toothpick +paper,--a printed one. Oh, it’s one of the Country Club ones. Probably +had it in his pocket.” + +“No, he didn’t, smarty!” and Angel smiled at Roly’s earnest face. “I +gave it to him. The man had a predilection for toothpicks,--asked +Binns for one after dinner. Poor Binns nearly threw a fit, but he +dug up a wooden one. So, knowing Curran’s weakness, I offered him a +first-class sealed-paper Club quill, and he was as pleased as could be. +Here’s the toothpick itself, on the table.” + +Angel picked it up, gingerly, looked at it as if it might be evidence, +and said, “Sherlock Holmes would construct a whole man from this.” + +“We don’t want to construct a man from that,” Mears scoffed. “We want +the criminal. Throw that away, Angel, it means nothing.” + +Baldwin went over to the waste basket and even as the toothpick dropped +from his fingers said, “There’s a lot of things in the basket,--better +give ’em the once over, Roly.” + +“They’ll keep. Mostly book catalogues and wrappings off of things. I +glanced at ’em. Well, we’re not getting much of anywhere, are we? Guess +I’ll piece out these torn papers, and see what comes of it.” + +“I see Jackson coming,” announced Kinney, from the window, “he’ll have +news from the Club people. Let’s go down and see him.” + + + + + CHAPTER VI + + WHAT TESSIE SAW + + +AS the others started for the door, Ned Knox touched Mears on the arm +and detained him. + +“Look here, Roly,” he said, “we can’t handle this thing with gloves on, +you know.” + +“Meaning?” + +“That we must look where evidence points,--even if it’s to one of +ourselves.” + +“You or me?” + +“No, I don’t mean that,--but,--oh, well, there’s no use mincing +matters. Wasn’t Angel the last one known to have seen Curran alive?” + +“There’s the visiting lady--” + +“I don’t believe there was one. Old Meredith dreamed that,--or made it +up.” + +“Why for?” + +“To create a sensation--” + +“Not his rôle. He’s no Thrill Builder. I’m banking on that woman.” + +“Well, anyway, take Angel into consideration. I passed the room while +he was in here and I can tell you he and Curran were quarrelling.” + +“Seriously?” + +“Very seriously. And it was something about a needle.” + +“A needle?” + +“Yes,--it may sound absurd, but they were discussing a needle. And may +it not be that Angel introduced the poison by means of a hypodermic +needle?” + +“I’d laugh at your suggestion, Knox, only it does seem as if that might +have been the method used. The doctors could easily have overlooked the +tiny scar it would make. And, do you see, a murderer using that means, +would, if clever enough, touch the poison to the dead man’s lips, +which would explain the odor of acid in his mouth, yet no trace in his +stomach.” + +Mears looked at Ned Knox, thoughtfully. + +“You’ve built up a case against Angel. Why?” + +“Only because there’s evidence that way,--and no other.” Knox returned. + +“But what motive could Angel possibly have? Curran was a profitable +client,--I know myself, Bob has made a lot of money off of the books +he has sold him. Why kill the goose that lays the golden eggs?” + +“Never mind motive, until you get your man.” + +“No, Ned, never mind the man until you find the motive. However, we’ll +look into Master Bob’s case, and see what we can discover.” + +“There ought to be clues in this room,--more, I mean than we’ve found.” + +“There certainly are enough ‘feathers left around,’” and Roly smiled at +the littered floor. + +“Come on,” called Kinney impatiently from the hall. “I’m waiting to +lock the door.” + +They accompanied the detective downstairs, where Jackson waited with +his report. + +“I found out quite a lot about Mr. Curran,” Jackson began, “yet none +of it seems to amount to much. He was born in Indiana, but lived most +of his later life in California. For the past two years he has been a +writer, but for about six years before that, he was a Movie actor.” + +“Not an Adonis!” observed Mears. + +“No; he played character parts. They say he was fine as an old man. +Well, he gave up the Pictures for a literary life, and made an +immediate hit with his detective stories. He has only been writing them +two years, but he has done three or four that have come well up towards +the Best Sellers line.” + +“What was his real name?” Kinney asked. + +“The Movie People didn’t seem to know,--Dyer or Dwyer, they said. But I +went to his New York publishers, and they told me it was Hugh Dwyer.” + +“Why did he adopt another?” + +“The publisher said, that as he was not sure his first book would be +a success, he chose a _nom de plume_. Then, when the book proved +popular, he retained the name of Curran.” + +“Plausible enough,--no harm in all that.” + +“No; then I went to one or two clubs he belonged to, and all gave him a +clean record, yet no one knew much about him definitely.” + +“What do you mean, definitely?” + +“I mean as to his ancestry, or relatives. I can’t find that he has any +kin whatever. Still, I’ve only just learned the name of Dwyer, so I may +trace by that. I’ve been working on the Curran name.” + +“You’ll have to wire the California people--” + +“I can’t find any California people. The M. P. Company he was with, +failed and disbanded over a year ago, and it’s next to impossible to +learn any facts from Movie people anyway. They are the most elusive, +evasive folks in the world. Oh, I’ll track down Hugh Dwyer, but it’ll +take some work to do it.” + +“Was he a married man?” + +“Divorced. I found that out, but nobody knows when or why or from whom.” + +“The records would show all that.” + +“Yes, but what records? You can’t comb the whole United States.” + +“Well, stick to it, Jackson. Had he no chums in New York? No intimate +friends at the Clubs? No women friends? And he had no servants? No man? +Surely he wasn’t absolutely alone!” + +“He seems to have been, Mr. Kinney. He lived at the Grampian Annex and +while they give him A-1 rating, they know nothing of his private life. +The manager told me Mr. Curran often had ladies to dine or lunch with +him, and sometimes small parties, but everything was always decorous +and correct. In fact, he was just a decent man about town, who kept +his own counsel and made a confidant of nobody. At least, that’s all +I’ve got so far. He was fond of the ladies, but I heard no breath of +scandal or unpleasant rumor anywhere.” + +“Exemplary chap,” said Mears. “But the hardest sort to tackle. However, +it’s interesting to crack a tough nut like that. I’ll bet I can find +out a lot about him,--and without leaving this house.” + +“Go ahead, Roly,” Loft said; “I want to find his folks, he must have +some. I feel a certain responsibility, since he died in my house. And I +want somebody to shift that responsibility onto.” + +“I don’t blame you!” said Angel. “It’s a horrid situation. If no one +turns up, shall you bury him, Val?” + +“Have to, I suppose. Or let the Funeral Company take charge of the +whole affair.” + +“Don’t worry, Mr. Loft,” said Kinney. “The Law will dictate about the +obsequies and all that.” + +“All right,” Loft said, and he sighed wearily. “And I’d be obliged if +the Law would clear up the matter, and find the criminal,--if any,--and +free me and my friends from this exceedingly unpleasant pall of +suspicion that overhangs the house!” + +“Suspicion!” cried Knox. “Nonsense, Val, who is suspected?” + +“We all are,” Loft returned, “The police have got hold of that fool +conversation we had about methods of murder, and the ease with which it +could be committed, and they think some one of us is responsible for +the taking off of Hugh Curran.” + +“What rubbish!” Angel spoke lightly, but Mears and Ned Knox watched him +closely. + +“It may be rubbish,” said Kinney, stolidly, “but if there’s only one +way to look, we have to look that way. And who can see any way to look +for a murderer outside this house?” + +“But, man, the room door was locked,” Mears exclaimed, still watching +Bob. “How could one of us manage that?” + +“The windows were fastened,” Kinney retorted. “How could an outsider +manage that?” + +“The windows were open a little, at top and bottom,” Bob said, slowly. + +“Yes, sir, but only six-inch apertures, and patent catches held them +immovable. I’ve investigated all that, and nobody could possibly have +entered from outside.” + +“There’s a balcony beneath the windows,” said Loft, meditatively. “It +runs all along that side of the house.” + +“Yes, I know,” Kinney agreed, “and anybody could have walked along +there. Anybody could even have shot through the six inch opening,--but +no intruder could poison a man that way.” + +“Righto,” said Mears, “I saw all that. And the bathroom window is small +and high and practically inaccessible.” + +“Positively inaccessible,” corrected Kinney. “It’s twenty feet from the +ground, and no window near enough to climb across from. And if anyone +had used a ladder, marks would show on the white paint outside. It is +entirely unmarred.” + +“That window’s too small to crawl through, anyway,” Loft said. “And, +another thing, the night watchman patrols this place thoroughly. No +one could go up a ladder, and remain even a few minutes, and return +by the ladder without being discovered by lynx-eyed old Gideon. No, +cut out all thought of an outside entrance. But that doesn’t preclude +an outsider,--I mean someone not of our own household. An intruder +could, I daresay, have entered the house during the day, and concealed +himself until the time was ripe.” + +“Yes, that must have been the way of it,” Knox argued. “We don’t know +how he got in and out of Curran’s room, but he did,--so there must have +been some way. I think the absence of Curran’s watch proves a robber.” + +“Why did the robber leave all the other jewelry, then?” asked Bob, but +Knox had no ready reply. + +“I’m going to talk with some of your servants, Mr. Loft,” Kinney +informed him. “I think I’ll get better results that way, than by having +them up here.” + +“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Angel Bob. “I want to get a line on the +servants’ yarns.” + +“Nobody else, then,” decreed Kinney, as Knox rose, too. “I don’t want a +posse.” + +Bob and the detective went to the pleasant sitting room that was +provided for the servants’ use, and summoned the principal ones to +conference. They called them singly, and after the non-committal +testimony of the butler, the second man, the cook, and one or two +maids, they felt disheartened and hopeless of gaining any information. + +But a giddy, flippant little parlor maid gave them a hint of one stone +left unturned. + +“I do know sumpthing,” she said, with a toss of her marvellous curly +head; “but I’m not sure I ought to tell it.” + +“You not only ought to, but you must tell it!” Kinney said, sternly; +“out with it, now!” + +But this made the little minx turn stubborn, and utterly unafraid +of the Arm of the Law, she made a face at the detective and pouted +mutinously. + +Angel laughed outright at this picture of dignity and impudence, for +Kinney’s dignity was so offended as to make him look like a collapsing +balloon, and the girl’s pretty face was roguish and stubborn, both at +once. + +He came to the rescue with his inimitable tact and irresistible charm. + +“Now, Rose,--your name is Rose, isn’t it?” + +“No, sir, it’s Violet.” + +“Prettier yet. Now, then, Violet, you’re to tell all you know,--or +you’ll be an exceedingly sorry little Violet. Take it from me, my +dear,--if you hold back this information another minute, you’ll be--put +in the lockup!” + +Bob breathed the last three words in a menacing whisper, with a sudden +change from a smiling face to a lowering, threatening countenance, and +so effective was his manner that Violet jumped in sudden terror. + +“Yes,” Bob rubbed it in, “in the lockup,--the jail! No place for pretty +little girls,--all stone walls, and bread and water, and--rats.” + +A shriek from the frightened Violet told of her surrender, and with a +return of his suavity, Bob said: “Out with it now,--my dear. Tell the +story you’re holding back. Does it implicate somebody else?” + +“Yes,--that’s it, sir. She’ll kill me!” + +“Oh, no, she won’t. Hurry up, Violet, the lockup yawns for you!” + +“Well,” she looked fearfully at both men, but started in on the tale: + +“It was Tessie. She--she went out last evening--” + +“Was it her evening out?” + +“Oh, yes, sir. But we’re ordered to be in by eleven o’clock at +the latest,--ten, unless we’ve arranged about it beforehand. +Well,--Tessie,--she--” + +“Get on,” said Kinney, impatiently, “Tessie overstaid her time. How +late was she?” + +“Oh,--she--it was after one o’clock!” + +“My, my, that _is_ shocking!” Bob exclaimed. “It’s as much as her +place is worth!” + +“Indeed it is,” Violet agreed. + +“Get on,” growled Kinney. “What did she see?” + +“She was so late, she crept in under the side gate,--a slim girl can +just do it,--and then she watched when Gideon was out of the way, +to run into the cellar door,--the one Gideon uses, and she knew she +could get in. So, while she was waiting for the old man to get around +to the other side of the house, she was looking about, and up on the +balcony,--outside the room Mr. Curran had, she saw two people. They +were Mr. Curran and a lady.” + +“Who was the lady?” Kinney shot out. + +“Mrs. Knox,” Violet said, frightened into an immediate reply by +Kinney’s scowl. + +Angel gave a short, low whistle. + +“Violet,” he said, “if you ever tell that to another soul, I’ll kill +you,--do you hear? Yes, I _can_ do it. I didn’t kill Mr. Curran, +but I could kill a person if I wanted to, and so sure as you breathe +that to any one, I’ll kill _you_! See?” + +“Yes, sir,” murmured Violet, trembling. “I won’t tell, if you won’t +tell on me!” + +“That your friend was out late? No, I won’t tell that.” + +“Think a minute, Mr. Baldwin,” and Kinney looked at him patronizingly, +“this isn’t this girl’s secret. It was Tessie who saw the lady, Tessie +who told Violet of it,--and who has probably told all the rest of the +servants by this time.” + +“Yes, I think she has,” said Violet, casually. + +Angel swore softly to himself. He was decidedly interested in the +pretty, vixenish Anna, and of all people, he hated to have her name +brought into this horrible affair. + +“Of course,” he said, after a pause, “Mrs. Knox had no hand in the +tragedy, she knows nothing of the crime,--if there was a crime,--so, +Kinney, can’t we suppress this bit of gossip? I can square the +servants, if you’ll promise not to use the story at all.” + +“Can’t do that, Mr. Baldwin. But, if, as you say, Mrs. Knox is not +implicated in the case, it can do her no great harm to have it known +that she strolled on the balcony in the moonlight at one o’clock. +That’s not a very late hour.” + +“N-no,--but that isn’t the point. I happen to know that the Knoxes +went to their rooms shortly after twelve. If Mrs. Knox left her room +again,--oh, pshaw,--let’s forget it.” + +“I see; if she left her room again,--it was without the knowledge of +her husband,--they had separate rooms?” + +“Yes,” said Bob, sullenly. + +“Adjoining?” + +“Bath between.” + +“Oh, ho! So, the lady could leave,--her room gives onto the balcony?” + +“I won’t tell you any more. You’re building up a scandal out of what +you said yourself was merely an innocent moonlight stroll. I refuse to +help you drag a lovely lady into this unpleasant affair.” + +“Oh, I don’t need your help. Run along, Violet, you’ve done your duty. +Always tell all you know, when the Law demands it. Run away, now.” + +Violet went away, and her attitude was rather that of an important +witness, than of one who had testified against her will. + +Without another word to the furious Angel, Kinney went in search of +Tessie. With a few decisive commands, in the name of the Law, he +reduced her to a state of abject obedience. + +She told the story, much as Violet had related it, but she went into a +mass of elaborate detail,--so elaborate, that Kinney suspected a vivid +imagination, in good working order. + +“Yes, sir,” Tessie said, rolling her eyes, as if enjoying her +part, “yes, sir, it was Mrs. Knox,--I know her well. She had on a +bee-yooutiful gown,--dressing-gown,--what they call negglegy, you know.” + +“You could discern that?” + +“Oh, yes, I could see the lace ruffles, and the teeny-weeny rosebuds on +it. All ribbony, and chiffony and floaty about.” + +Tessie’s expressive hands waved in illustration of floating draperies, +and so realistic was she, that Kinney felt she must have seen what she +described. + +“They walked up and down the balcony?” + +“No,--that is they did for a minute, then they sat on the balcony rail +and looked at the moon. They sat mighty close together, too.” + +Again the rolling eyes betokened a deep interest and appreciation. +Clearly, Tessie was romantic by nature. + +“And then?” + +“Then, Gideon got out of the way, and I skittled into the house, +through his area door, and hustled up to my own room. So that’s all I +know about those two.” + +Bob Baldwin went back to the library, where the men of the house were +assembled. + +All except Knox, who wasn’t there, and his absence gave Bob an +opportunity to speak of what was in his mind. + +“I say, fellows,” he began, “it’s up to all of us to speak out frankly. +I admit that when we all boasted how easy it would be to kill a man, +and then when one is killed right here among us,--I admit, it looks +queer for us all, and it ought to be understood that if there’s +anything--anything at all against any of us, it is to be spoken of and +thrashed out.” + +“Right, Angel,” Mears said, “and as a starter, I’ll tell that you have +been hinted at.” + +“By whom?” and Bob’s question was serious. + +“Well, since we’re all to speak out in meetin’,--by Ned Knox.” + +Angel sighed and looked grave. + +“As he is the one I want to speak about, perhaps our stories will +dovetail.” + +And then, to his friends and cronies, Valentine Loft and Roly Mears, +Bob told the story of Tessie’s observations, as retailed by Violet. + +“I knew Anna was making a dead set for him,” Loft said, moodily. +“What a flirt she is! She didn’t care two cents for Curran, really, +he was just a new man for her wiles to work on. She is a vain little +featherhead--” + +“Hold, there, Loft,--I’m fond of Anna,” Bob said with utter frankness. +“Don’t treat her rough.” + +“All right, Angel. But, seriously, if the maid’s story is true, and why +should we doubt it, then Anna did sneak out to the balcony,--probably +after Ned was snoring,--and had her clandestine flirtation with Curran. +Now, if Ned awoke, trailed her, and discovered them,--it would--he +would kill Curran quicker’n a wink.” + +Kinney had entered, and heard this last statement. + +The detective told the men such further details as he had learned from +Tessie, which, of course, was the information that Anna was _en +negligée_, and that the two miscreants sat close together on the +balcony rail. + +“Not hard to believe of Anna,” Mears declared, “nor of Curran, either. +And no harm done, except in view of later developments. But suppose Ned +did do the irate husband act, how did he get that deadly poison, how +did he get in and out of Curran’s room, and why did he take Curran’s +watch?” + +“I know!” cried Roly. “It was Anna’s picture in the back of the watch!” + +“Nonsense! Anna met Curran for the first time, last evening.” + +“Anna’s cute enough to pretend anything.” This from Loft. “That woman’s +a--forgive me, Angel,--but she is as sly and cunning as they come. I +can’t puzzle out the ways and means,--but there’s that difficulty with +any theory or assumption. Also, I won’t even think wrong of Ned Knox, +until he has a chance to speak for himself, but I do say this must be +looked into.” + +“I think the worst against Knox,” Roly put in, “is the way he tried to +implicate Angel to me. He hinted at Bob’s being the murderer,--because, +forsooth, he heard Bob and Curran quarreling over something in Curran’s +room.” + +“That was at half-past twelve,” said Bob, “and after one, Tessie saw +Curran, evidently very much alive.” + +“But it was a good tack for Knox to take, to divert suspicion from +himself,” Roly said, thoughtfully. + + + + + CHAPTER VII + + THE SISTER ARRIVES + + +“BUT you see, Pauline, darling, Ned Knox is impulsive, belligerent and +pig-headed. If he found Anna out on the balcony flirting with Curran, +he would kill him just as soon as he could manage it!” + +“But how could he manage it?” + +“Somebody managed it. You remember, when we talked about murder, Knox +said shooting was his choice. But, he had no gun, so he had to resort +to poison.” + +“Where could he get it?” + +“Well, there’s one way,” Loft said, slowly. “Angel has an elaborate +photographic outfit in my den. He has poisons there that he uses in his +work--” + +“Why has Bob an outfit of that sort?” + +“He’s an amateur photographer. He doesn’t say much about it, because +everybody is after him to take a photograph. And, too, he has to +photograph title pages or something, in connection with his book +business. In the New York Public Library, they have a whole room for +the purpose of photographing pages of rare books for people who want +them. Bob does this in a limited way. You know, Pauline, he is an +artist in this rare book business. He’s no amateur.” + +“All right. Then, say Ned did get poison from Bob’s laboratory or +whatever you call it, how’d he get it to Mr. Curran?” + +“He could get to him easily enough. I suppose Curran would let him in, +if he came to his room later. But, the thing is, how did he get out and +leave the door locked behind him?” + +Pauline looked deeply thoughtful. Her beautiful eyebrows came closer +together as she concentrated on the problem. Her long, slim hands, +clasped in her lap, seemed to tremble with the intensity of her mental +effort. + +At last, she gave a shrug, as if to throw aside a consideration, and +said, “But, Val, that problem confronts every theory. Why don’t you +leave that until you get other data, pointing toward the murderer,--or +the motive?” + +“You’re right, Pauline, and I’m glad to see it so clearly. Now looking +at it that way, Ned had motive,--you know his insane jealousy of +Anna,--also, he had opportunity,--for after two o’clock, nobody was +awake or listening--” + +“Except Mr. Meredith.” + +“Oh, old Pop Meredith doesn’t count. Neither does Stella. They’re both +deluded by their subconscious dreams and vagaries.” + +“Yes, I think that, too. Well, Val, go on. Did Ned take Mr. Curran’s +watch?” + +“Surely. It had Anna’s picture in it.” + +“Then you think Anna knew Mr. Curran before yesterday?” + +“Of course she did. Anna is a flirt, but no woman would progress so +fast as to arrange a clandestine meeting with an utter stranger, the +first time she saw him!” + +“Yes,--that’s so. And so late,--and in her boudoir gown--it was +that,--I know the rosebudded affair Tessie described.” + +“Well, there you are. Lord knows I hate to suspect Ned Knox,--but +evidence is against him. And, too, he tried to implicate Angel,--to my +mind, that’s against him, too.” + +“Yes, I suppose it is. But, Val, dear, must you--prosecute, or whatever +you call it? Can’t you hush it all up?” + +“Don’t see how we can, Pauly. But I will try to get it all over as soon +as possible. If Ned is guilty,--I feel sure he’ll have the decency to +clear out pretty quick.” + +“If Ned is a--a murderer,--you can’t expect him to have--decency.” + +“Of course you can. His sudden wild impulse, and the consequent act of +crime, don’t change his traits or habits. If Ned Knox proposes leaving +here,--he wouldn’t be allowed to go,--but it would prove to my mind his +guilt--” + +“Oh, Valentine, he never did it! He couldn’t have done it!” and Pauline +clasped her hands and shook her head in utter negation of the idea. + +“What are you two talking about?” and the Countess sailed majestically +toward the pair who sat in the swing on the veranda. + +“About Mr. Curran’s death,” said Pauline, calmly. “What do you think, +Countess?” + +“I think Ned Knox killed him. Don’t ask me how or when or which or +what! I don’t know! I only know that Ned was insanely jealous of Anna +and he killed the man who--flirted with her.” + +“Too easy,” Loft said. “Give a dog a bad name and hang him. But if it’s +a human dog, we must prove his claim to the bad name.” + +“Don’t be too fussy, Val,” the Countess said, shortly, “Ned Knox killed +him, and now all you have to do is to check up the ways and means.” + +“Just like a woman!” said Loft. “Oh, yes, I say so and so is a +murderer. Now somebody will please prove it.” + +“But what do you think, Val?” Pauline asked, her eyes on Loft’s face. +“Don’t you think Ned did it?” + +“No, Pauly,--frankly, no, I don’t!” + +“Oh, fiddle-dee-dee!” cried the Countess, “what does it matter who we +think did it? The thing must be proved--proved!” + +“All very well, Countess,” Loft began, but he was interrupted by Binns, +who announced, “Miss Dwyer is here, sir.” + +“What?” “Who?” and “Good Lord!” his hearers exclaimed, simultaneously, +and immediately followed the butler into the house. + +In a reception room they found a lady, tall, gaunt and aggressive. + +At least, those were the qualifications that sprang first to Loft’s +notice. + +The Countess observed that the visitor was distinctly Middle West as +to voice and manner, and Pauline noted with shocked realization the +tightfitting black taffeta, “travelling dress” the lady wore. + +“I am Hetty Dwyer,” the strange guest announced, rising as the others +entered. “I am the sister of Hugh Dwyer,--known, perhaps to you as Hugh +Curran.” + +“How do you do, Miss Dwyer,” Loft said, at once, and most courteously, +“it is good of you to come.” + +“Not at all,” she spoke somewhat acidly, “I read of the death of my +brother in the paper, and I hurried here at once.” + +“It is four days since Hugh Curran died,” Loft said, slowly, “and, Miss +Dwyer, he is now--” + +“Buried?” she exclaimed, apprehensively. + +“No; his body is in the receiving vault,--at the undertaker’s place,” +he assured her. “You may see him again,--if you wish.” + +“Of course I wish,” she cried. “My only brother. My loved Hugh. +Certainly I wish to see him again, before he is laid away forever.” + +“Very well, you may,” Loft assured her. “And now, Miss Dwyer, since you +are here, I’ve no doubt you can tell us something that may throw light +on the strange mystery of his death.” + +“That I’m sure I can’t do,” she said, with asperity. + +Miss Dwyer was a tall, angular person, with prominent cheek bones, +elbows and even knees, which indicated themselves inside her scant +skirts. She was perhaps forty, and old looking for her age. + +She had none of the graces or amenities of urban life, rather she +showed the awkward, ignorant demeanor of a country-bred woman. + +But she was shrewd and keen, and absolutely unabashed. + +“That’s why I am here,” she went on, earnestly. “I want to know who +killed my brother. Any idea of suicide is utterly ridiculous--” + +“But, Miss Dwyer,” said Kinney, who was present, “your denunciation of +a theory as utterly ridiculous, doesn’t make it so.” + +“It does in this case,” she declared, calmly, “for I know my brother’s +circumstances and conditions,--and I know he was looking forward to a +new happiness,--to a new phase of his life, that meant, to him, nothing +less than bliss.” + +“And what was that?” Kinney asked. + +“He was about to be married,” she said, with all the awe and wonder in +her voice that accompanies a spinster’s dream of wedlock. + +“Indeed,” Kinney said. “He had been married before, had he not?” Miss +Dwyer’s face changed. It looked scornful, even infuriated. + +“Yes!” she said, “he had! To an utterly worthless woman! A silly, +selfish, peevish chit, who led him a dance, until--” + +“Until he got rid of her?” + +“Yes, well rid of her! That woman was a millstone round his neck! The +happiest day of his life was when their bonds were severed.” + +“You knew her, then?” Kinney asked. + +“I never saw her, thank heaven! But I know how unworthy of him she was! +You see, the whole affair,--I mean his meeting her, their engagement, +their marriage and their divorce, all occurred within a year, within +eight months,--to be exact, and I was abroad for a two-year trip at the +time. But as soon as I returned, and saw my brother again, I realized +how fortunate he was to be released from her.” + +“Her name?” asked Kinney. + +“I don’t really know,” Miss Dwyer said. “He called her Rose or +Rosalie,--but I don’t think that was her real name. Yet it may have +been. Her surname, I never heard. When I returned, the affair was all +over, a thing of the past, and I never talked to my brother about it.” + +“It all has no bearing on the present problem,” Kinney said slowly, +“unless that wife could have been implicated in his murder,--if it is a +murder.” + +“Oh, no, I’m sure she couldn’t have been. As I understood matters, she +was even more glad to get freed from him than he from her. They were +totally uncongenial, and each wanted separation.” + +“Doubtless the marriage and divorce are all on record,” Kinney observed. + +“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Miss Dwyer said. “But I’m sure that woman +had nothing to do with it. My brother was an adorer of women, and had +dozens of affairs since his divorce. But, lately, he devoted his whole +life and soul to one girl,--a Miss Fitzgerald, of Chicago. And he +expected to marry her soon.” + +“Can we get in touch with the lady?” Kinney asked. + +“I don’t see why not,” Miss Dwyer returned. “Yet, she can’t help you. +I know she loved my brother,--she would have no hand in his taking +off. And if she hasn’t come forward in the matter, it’s merely because +she knows she can be of no help, and she would naturally hate the +publicity.” + +“That’s all true enough,” Loft said, thoughtfully; “yet, it seems we +ought to see or hear from Miss Fitzgerald.” + +“I should think so!” Kinney declared. + +Miss Dwyer wore a hat with one stiff, black quill feather. When she +spoke emphatically, as she almost always did, this feather nodded +sharply and seemed to punctuate her speech. + +It did so now, as she said, + +“It is absurd to think that an interview with Miss Fitzgerald would +be of any help in this affair. On the contrary, Miss Fitzgerald knows +nothing about the awful details, and I beg of you leave the poor girl +in peace. Her grief is hard enough to bear without having the agonies +and distresses of a murder trial on her shoulders as well. Now, I know, +that my brother’s death is the work of some of you people here. You +society people,--frothy, artificial, fashionable puppets, who dance +as Fate pulls the strings! And, if you have a grudge or a fancied +grudge against any one, you snuff out his life with no conscience or +compunction.” + +“Miss Dwyer,” Loft spoke seriously, “I can’t allow that statement to +stand. We are ‘society people,’ as you use that term, but I assure +you we are not given to murdering our fellow-men, or to accepting the +fact of murder, without being shocked by it, and striving to bring the +criminal to justice. I am surprised that you should think otherwise.” + +“I do think otherwise, and your declaration does not move me. I still +believe that my brother came to his end by foul play of some one whom +he trusted and deemed his friend. I am here to prove or disprove my +theory. Mr. Loft, shall I remain here, under your roof, or go to some +inn or other stopping place?” + +“I invite you to stay here, Miss Dwyer, as long as it pleases you to do +so. We are working on the mystery ourselves, and you may work with us +or pursue your independent search, as you choose.” + +Valentine Loft was a perfect host, and his courteous manner and bland +speech seemed to affect Miss Dwyer pleasantly. + +“Thank you,” she said; “I shall be glad to remain here a few days. As +you can readily understand, I am so shocked and upset by my brother’s +death I can scarcely pull myself together. And to be here, on the very +scene of his death, is--is unnerving,--to say the least.” + +Valentine Loft, beneath his urbane exterior was a very sharp and keen +reasoner. And as he watched his newest guest, he doubted her sincerity +of grief regarding her brother’s death. She was shocked,--upset,--even +stunned,--but of actual grief or sorrow he saw small trace. + +His conclusions were verified, when, a moment later, Miss Dwyer began +to inquire about her brother’s effects. + +“As I am his only heir,” she said, “of course I am in full possession +of all he left,--in property or assets. I know little about such +matters, but I do know that Hugh’s book royalties and Motion Picture +royalties must amount to a considerable sum,--and all of those are +naturally mine.” + +“Naturally,” agreed Kinney. “There will, I’m sure, be no trouble about +all that. Now, we want to get at the motive for the murder and the +identity of the murderer. Can you give us any suggestions, Miss Dwyer.” + +“Only what I have already said. I’m sure Hugh’s death was due to some +acquaintance of his who,--well, I can’t help thinking it was because +of some woman. My brother was capable of sudden and deep passions for +a woman, and even though he was engaged to Miss Fitzgerald, that would +not prevent his violent flirtation with another woman, and through that +he might have been punished by some irate husband or fiancé.” + +The contrast between the prim, prudish old maid, and her sophisticated +talk of her brother’s amours amused the Countess, who laughed outright. + +“You’re a true woman,” she said, “and though unmarried, I daresay +you’ve had your own little affairs,--here and there.” + +“You mistake me, madam,” Miss Dwyer sat bolt upright. “I am above and +beyond all small coquetries or intrigues. I loved my brother,--but I +have never loved any other man. Moreover, I do not enjoy the society of +men. While, here, I will, if you please, confine my associations mostly +to the women, and from them, or through them, I hope to unravel this +mystery.” + +And so there was another sleuth added to the corps at Valhalla, and +indeed, one, who by virtue of her earnest and patient work, went far +toward the final solution of the mysterious death of Hugh Curran. + +The Countess frankly disliked the new comer. This was not surprising, +for Countess Galaski liked few people, and rarely was amiable to a +woman. + +So she and Miss Dwyer tacitly agreed to be enemies, and each +religiously opposed the other’s opinions or contradicted the other’s +statements. + +“They’re really funny,” Pauline said to Val. “If the Countess should +say two and two make four, Miss Dwyer would bring any number of +authorities to prove it doesn’t.” + +“Yes, they’re funny,” Loft agreed, “but I can’t like that Miss Dwyer. +One reason being, she hates me so. I believe she thinks I killed her +brother.” + +“Oh, Val, how could she think that?” + +“She can think anything,--and the police can, too. Kinney has been +looking at me askance of late. And, Good Lord, Pauline, which way is +there to look? Here it’s five days since Hugh Curran died under my +roof, and I’m no nearer a theory of his death than we were at first.” + +“No; but suppose, dear, that it never should be discovered, would it +matter much?” + +“Indeed it would, Pauline. There would always be a cloud over this +place,--over this house,--this home, which I hope will be your home. I +can’t ask you to accept a home with a cloud over it.” + +“I don’t mind that, dear. I’d rather the whole affair would blow over +as quickly as possible,--I hate to hear about it,--to think about +it--oh, Val, let’s go away somewhere until it is all over.” + +“I wish we might, dearest, but such a thing is out of the question. No, +we must face the music,--I must, anyway. But, dear heart, sometimes I +think you’d better go away for a time. It is painful for you,--” + +“Don’t you want me here, Val? With you?” + +“Oh, I do, Sweetheart! I’m thinking only of you. Pauline, suppose there +should be some important disclosure soon,--some awful fact about one of +our guests--” + +“Anna?” + +“Yes; how did you guess? But there is evidence,--of a sort,--against +Anna--” + +“Valentine, put it out of your mind,--at once! Anna is absolutely +blameless--” + +“Of the murder,--of course. But she has been--she was--indiscreet--” + +“What did she do?” + +On a sudden impulse, Loft told Pauline his opinion of the story Tessie +had given them. + +She listened attentively, and then said: “I can believe all that,--that +Anna went out on the balcony and met him,--but not that she--” + +“But Pauline, dear, you don’t understand. The theory is that Ned +surprised them out there together, and in his jealous rage, he killed +Curran.” + +“That could be,” Pauline nodded her head thoughtfully. “But I don’t +believe it happened. Anyway, don’t bank on it,--don’t follow it up, +will you, Val?” + +“It isn’t my doing. Roly is working from that angle. He has checked up +Anna’s wardrobe, and has even found the negligée in question,--with +floating draperies and tiny pink rosebuds.” + +“Pshaw, every woman has a negligée answering that description,--I have, +myself.” + +“Is that so, Pauline? Is it a usual model? That does seem to nullify +Roly’s clue.” + +“Of course it does. And it’s a silly theory, anyway. Where’s Mr. +Curran’s watch? Why would Ned Knox take that?” + +“That’s just the point. Roly thinks Anna’s picture was in it.” + +“Anna’s picture! Ridiculous!” + +“Why ridiculous? That is, assuming Anna knew him before.” + +“Nonsense! It was never Anna’s picture.” + +“I don’t see how you can be so sure.” + +“Why,--I saw him flash the watch open that night, after dinner.” + +“Did he? What for? It was not a hunting case. He didn’t have to open it +to see the time.” + +“No.” + +“Tell me, Pauline, what do you mean? How did you see the picture?” + +“Oh, I didn’t exactly see it, Val, but I did see him flash the case +open and steal a look at the picture. I couldn’t see whose likeness it +was, but I’m sure it was not Anna’s.” + +“Then dear, if you saw it as distinctly as that, you must have been +able to distinguish the features. Was it any one you knew?” + +“No, oh, no. It was--it was the face of a stranger,--a young-looking +girl, with a lot of curly hair. A pretty face, but one in no way +distinguished.” + +“You noted it closely.” + +“Not intentionally. It meant nothing to me. But when it was exposed to +my view, though only for a few seconds, I really saw it plainly, and I +remember it.” + +“You’d know the face if you saw it again?” + +“Yes, I’m sure I should. But why so interested, Val?” + +“Only that it’s one of the ‘feathers left around.’ I want to know what +it means.” + +“But the watch wasn’t left around.” + +“I mean the evidence,--the clue of the missing watch, is what we have +taken to calling a feather,--that is a clue.” + +“Oh, yes, I see. If you could find out who that woman’s face was, you +think it would help you in your discoveries?” + +“I do think so. Although it may have been the picture of Miss +Fitzgerald,--Curran’s fiancée.” + +“Yes, that might be,” Pauline agreed, but her tone was perfunctory, and +her gaze faraway,--she seemed to be utterly preoccupied. “If he was +so interested in that girl,” she went on, “why was Ned so irate about +Anna? He couldn’t have thought Mr. Curran’s admiration of Anna at all +serious.” + +“Ned is a lunatic, when it comes to Anna. I’ve seen him flare up and go +almost crazy if she so much as smiled on a man he disliked. Poor Anna.” + +“Don’t waste your sympathy on Anna,” said Pauline. + + + + + CHAPTER VIII + + LITTLE ANNA’S WILES + + +“IT’S all very well,” said Roly Mears, “for you people to stick by one +another, and to shield one another. But the truth of this thing has +got to come out. I’m friendly enough with all you men, I’m chivalrous +enough toward the women, but all the same, I’m going to dig into this +matter, and I’m going to find out who killed Hugh Curran. But I’ll say +at the start I don’t believe the murderer was you, Valentine, or Angel. +More, I don’t think it was Ned Knox.” + +“Who do you think it was?” Loft asked, a trifle disinterestedly. He +didn’t think much of Roly’s powers as a detective and was a little +bored with his talk. + +“I think it was somebody we none of us know. I think he was concealed +in the house somewhere, and late that night he went to Curran’s room, +and Curran let him in.” + +“Yes,--go on.” + +“Then, for reasons of his own he killed Curran,--poisoned him,--and +made a clever getaway.” + +“Leaving the door locked behind him?” + +“Yes, Val, leaving the door locked behind him. We know the door was +locked,--we know the murderer must have left it locked behind him,--a +dead man couldn’t get up and lock it. So accept those facts, and then +assume any explanation you please of the locking of that door. I think +it could be done with some sort of an implement,--something like a +skeleton key, that could turn the door key in its own lock.” + +“Have you ever heard of such a thing, Roly?” + +“No; I’m imagining it. But far more wonderful and complicated devices +are made, and I hold that such an implement is not by any means +impossible.” + +“If that could be done,” said Loft, thoughtfully, “it eliminates one +phase of the mystery. If that could be done,--anybody might have done +it.” + +“Only some one versed in the tricks and tools of burglary,” corrected +Mears. “Modern burglars have very up-to-date contrivances.” + +“It wasn’t burglary.” + +“No, but it may have been a burglarious entrance and exit. And the +motive was, of course, something connected with Curran’s past or +private life, of which we know nothing. That’s why, Val, I’m so keen +to find out the truth. It isn’t so much to avenge the poor chap’s +death, as to clear all of us from suspicion. The police are sure that +one of our crowd did it. Ned, for choice. But they hold that after +that fool conversation you chaps put up, they must find the murderer +among you three. You may as well know how positive they are about this. +They don’t say much to you, but they do to me. And that Kinney is +the most persistent person. He has a dogged stick-to-it-iveness that +nothing seems to dismay. He’s going to interview Anna today and ask her +straight out about that balcony business.” + +“I wish him joy,” Loft said, smiling. “He’ll not get much out of Little +Anna!” + +But in this Loft was mistaken. At that very moment Detective Kinney was +interviewing Anna Knox, and was getting a whole lot of information. + +She had received him in her own boudoir, and with an eye to the setting +of the stage, she was arrayed in a most fetching tea gown and was +ensconced among a pile of soft pillows in the corner of a great divan. + +She had chosen her rôle of confidential innocence, and her first words +disarmed Kinney and roused all his sympathy. + +“I’m so glad to see you,” she cooed, raising sad, pathetic eyes to his +stern accusing countenance. “I’m sure you can help me,--and I’ve no one +else to look to for assistance.” + +The blue eyes were so trustful, the rose pink cheeks so soft, and the +red mouth so appealing that Kinney did what many better and wiser men +had done before him, fell for Little Anna utterly. + +From that moment he was her abject slave, he could no more have accused +her,--even suspected her, than he could have his own mother. + +This was in no way his fault,--Nature had given him a susceptible +heart, especially toward a trusting woman, and when Anna’s exquisite +beauty added its charm and her clever brain prompted the way, the man +was entirely defenseless and simply surrendered. + +But Kinney didn’t know this. It was part of Anna’s spell that she made +her victims think they were still masters of themselves when they were +abjectly under her thumb. + +“Yes,” she went on, her voice hopeless, her eyes despairing. “I am +in a peculiar position. I can’t ask my husband to help me, for he +is--oh, well,” she dimpled into a fleeting smile, “he is a monster of +jealousy,--and you are man of the world enough to know what that means, +Mr. Kinney!” + +This subtle compliment further subjugated her hearer, and he bridled +a little as he said, sympathetically, “Yes, yes, indeed, Mrs. Knox, I +know.” + +“Now, to get right at the matter, Mr. Kinney, you ask me questions and +I’ll answer them.” + +Anna cuddled among her cushions, looking like a pretty child about to +play an amusing game. And indeed, that was not far from her mental +attitude. + +Kinney pulled himself together. He must be stern, that he knew. He was +dimly subconscious of the situation, and had an uneasy feeling that +he was not quite in command of himself. This nerved him to strenuous +effort, and he said, severely: + +“Then, Mrs. Knox, is the story the maid, Tessie, tells a true one? Were +you with Mr. Curran on his balcony after one o’clock that night,--the +night he died?” + +“It isn’t his balcony,” and Anna pouted prettily. “It’s just as much +my balcony,--both our rooms are on it.” + +“Yes,--I know. And you were out on your balcony--” + +“Yes, I was,” in a burst of frankness, “I was. The moonlight was so +divine, and I could not sleep, so I slipped on a boudoir gown and +stepped out to look at the lovely scene.” + +“And then?” + +“And then, Mr. Curran chanced to step out of his window, too,--and, as +was most natural, we spoke of the beauty of the night.” + +“Of course,” said Kinney, and gazing at Anna’s face, he imagined Hugh +Curran noting other beauty beside that of the night. + +“And you sat by him on the balcony rail?” + +“Why, yes, Mr. Kinney,--I did for a moment. Now, I’ll own up to you, +that Mr. Curran was a fascinating man,--and that I--” she peeped at him +from beneath her long lashes, “that I am--at least, I’m called a bit +of a flirt--oh, well, I confess--but there was no crime in that,--was +there?” The blue eyes appealed; “no real wrong in a tiny flirtation? +That isn’t what you detectives want to discover, is it?” + +“No, no, indeed, ma’am. No, certainly not!” + +“Then you don’t need to say anything about it, do you? You don’t need +to blazon abroad my little teeny-weeny indiscretion?” + +“No, no,--that isn’t necessary--” + +“Oh, you good Mr. Kinney! Oh, you dear man! And you promise not to say +anything about it, don’t you?” + +“But--but it is already known. Tessie--” + +“But if you and I deny it, Tessie’s story won’t be believed. If you’ll +say that I denied being out there, and that you believe my denial, +no one can consider the maid’s story at all. It will be entirely +discredited.” + +“I don’t see how I can do that--” Kinney looked at her perplexedly. +“You see--” + +“I don’t see anything!” Anna playfully put both hands over her eyes, +“and you don’t either,”--she transferred the soft fingers to Kinney’s +eyes, “and so, let’s forget it all.” + +The touch of her roseleaf hands set the man’s pulses beating, and as +the fingertips left his eyes, and he saw Anna’s roguish, smiling face, +not far from his own, he would have promised her anything she asked. + +“I don’t know as it’s important evidence--” he began, heavily. + +“It isn’t evidence at all!” she cried, gaily. “I mean no evidence for +or against your old murder case. Now, you know it isn’t, Mr. Kinney, +and you know you’re going to ignore it all, and you’re going to +leave poor little me out of the question, and then I’ll be happy and +contented. And I’ll owe my happiness to you,--you dear man!” + +She seized his hand in both her own, and dropped a fluttering kiss on +the big red paw. + +This sealed Kinney’s doom, and in a sort of trance, he murmured: + +“What shall I tell them?” + +“Tell them,” Anna directed, “that you interviewed me, and that I +convinced you that I was not out on the balcony at all that night. That +Tessie either made up the story or that she was mistaken. That the +whole matter is of no importance anyway, and that you have other and +more indicative knowledge to work on.” + +“Yes. And what is that knowledge?” + +“He’s eating out of my hand,” thought Anna, jubilantly. + +“It’s just this,” she replied, gravely. “While we sat on the balcony +rail,--you see, I accept you as a sharer of my secrets,--there came a +knock at Mr. Curran’s door. Only a light, almost timid tap, but in the +silence of the night we heard it distinctly. Of course, he had to go +and answer it, so he returned to his room, and I hastened to mine.” + +“But you lingered,” the detective instinct was still at work, “you +tarried long enough to peep and see who it was?” + +“Oh, you wonderful man! How did you guess that?” + +“Who was it?” + +“I couldn’t see,--but I’m sure it was a woman.” + +“Ah, the shawled woman of Mr. Meredith’s story.” + +“Yes, exactly. I couldn’t corroborate him, for I didn’t want any one to +know I was there. But since you know, and since you’re going to keep it +secret,--I trust you, Mr. Kinney--I feel sure you can trace that woman.” + +“Then I’ll work on that clue, using only Mr. Meredith’s statement and +not telling that it is backed up by yours.” + +“Yes, that’s just what I mean. You see, as I heard that tap, and saw +Mr. Curran open the door to somebody,--that lets me out regarding--oh, +I mean--you can’t think me the murderess.” + +A glance at the baby face was enough to make any such supposition +ridiculous, but Kinney was still rational enough to realize that if +Anna’s story of the tap at the door was a true tale, then she could +have had no hand in the murder herself. And as the time coincided +with the time Mr. Meredith had mentioned, he felt he had no reason to +disbelieve what Anna Knox told him. + +Kinney went downstairs a gladder and a wiser man. He had eliminated one +possible suspect, which was one step in the right direction. + +He found Loft and Angel in the library, discussing old books with Miss +Dwyer. + +It seemed, Valentine had offered to buy some of Hugh Curran’s books +from his sister, whose property they now were. + +And this had roused Miss Dwyer’s easily inflammable suspicions. + +“That’s the key to this whole mystery,” she was exclaiming, as Kinney +entered. “There’s the motive! You two, Mr. Loft and Mr. Baldwin envied +my brother some of his rarities. I’ve heard how wicked and greedy all +collectors are! How they resort to any means to acquire a volume they +have set their hearts on. I’ve been told how they will lie, cheat, +steal, yes, even murder to get a choice specimen. My brother had a +wonderful collection,--I know something of these matters myself. I +know his Black Letter books are among the finest known. I know he had +certain volumes that all the collectors in the country were trying +to get away from him. I know that only a connoisseur in these things +would know the value of his possessions, and would go to any lengths +to get them. Mr. Kinney,” she turned to the detective, “there is your +motive,--my brother was killed because he owned a valuable library. +Now, you find his murderer!” + +Attracted by the loud voice of Miss Dwyer, Stella, who was passing, +came in. + +“I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said. “And, too,--though I know Val, +you don’t take any interest in dreams,--yet I want to tell you of the +vision I had last night.” + +“Nonsense,” Loft began, “but Kinney stopped him.” + +“Let her tell it, Mr. Loft,” he counselled. “Though only a dream it may +be of benefit,--there may be a hint in it.” + +“It was so vivid a dream,” Stella said, “that I call it a vision. I +saw a large library,--a room full of books,--it may have been a book +shop, but the shelves were filled with old worn volumes. There were +four men present, but all wore cowls,--such as monks wear. I could see +none of their faces. But one seemed to be the owner of the books, and +the others were visitors. There was much handling and discussion of the +volumes. There also seemed to be quarrelling or ill feeling among the +men. Of only two books could I discern the titles.” + +“What were they?” asked Kinney, as Stella paused. + +“One was ‘_Rosalie_,’--and one was ‘_Mr. S._’” + +“Oh, pshaw,--” Valentine Loft laughed, “those are the two words Mr. +Curran spoke that night he was pretending to be clairvoyant. They meant +nothing, but they stuck in your subconsciousness, Stella, and wove +themselves into your dream.” + +“I don’t remember Mr. Curran’s saying them,” Stella protested. + +“But he did,” Loft returned. “And nobody showed any understanding of +what he meant. He used them at random. I’m afraid, Stella, your dream +can’t help us much.” + +“But I think it does,” Miss Dwyer, exclaimed; “of course you men will +deny it, but that dream goes to prove, to my mind, that my brother’s +murder is the result of his possession of books that another collector +coveted. I have no doubt Miss Lawrence knows or suspects this, and that +is why such a dream came to her. As to the titles of the books, if Mr. +Loft’s explanation of that is the true one, it makes no difference. +Miss Lawrence may have heard my brother use those two words or phrases, +and have entirely forgotten it. Then they returned to her in her dream.” + +“I doubt if Mr. Curran actually made up those words,” Kinney said; +“I think they meant something to him,--even if no one else present +understood them.” + +“Rosalie, I think,--was the name of his wife,” Miss Dwyer said. “At +least he sometimes called her that,--or Rose, or Rosy,--yet it is my +impression they were all nicknames, and not her real name.” + +Angel Bob Baldwin had listened to this conversation mostly in silence. +Now he took the floor. + +“Miss Dwyer,” he said, “you have doubtless heard, as you say, of the +greed and covetousness of book collectors. And, while it is true to a +degree, it is by no means true that they make a practice of killing +other collectors in their zeal. I am, in a way, a book dealer,--though +I have no shop or storeroom. I am more of a commission agent. Yet, +I am familiar with the ways of the collectors, especially the most +important ones. And I know that no one of them would kill a man or +would even resort to dishonest methods to gain a book he desired. +There are some, I daresay, who would do so, but not the important, the +celebrated collectors. Your brother was one of these, Mr. Loft is one. +And I can speak for Mr. Loft when I say that never has he descended to +the slightest bit of underhanded dealing to attain a desired volume. +Nor did your brother. These two men, as well as all of my clients, are +most observant of the rights of fellow collectors. They give me their +bids for an auction sale, or a private sale, and I execute their +commissions with the same care and honesty that a broker or banker +would use in financial transactions. I am telling you this, because I +see you are under a misapprehension as to the methods and manners of +first-class collectors.” + +“All very fine, Mr. Baldwin,” the lady returned, “except that I don’t +believe it. I have come here to discover who killed my brother. If it +turns out to be one of you men who threatened him--” + +“Threatened him!” cried Angel. “What _do_ you mean?” + +“Well, I’m told you discussed murder,--and what was the best method, +and all that.” + +“We did,” Loft said, “but it was no threat,--it was regarding no +intended victim! Miss Dwyer, you must be crazy!” + +“No, sir, I am not crazy, but I am a determined woman. I shall never +rest until I discover the criminal. If the local police cannot +accomplish this, I shall engage a private detective--” + +“Do so, if you wish, Miss Dwyer.” Loft was courteous, as always. “I, +too, should be glad to have the mystery solved.” + +“I’ll help you, Miss Dwyer,” Stella offered. “I’m not sure that a +woman’s intuition can’t accomplish more than a man’s skill. At any +rate, I’m glad you do not scoff at my dreams,--for I have too often +proved their truth and value to slight their importance.” + +The two women left the room and Kinney turned to Loft. + +“I want to take up that matter of the woman Mr. Meredith told of,” he +began. “It hasn’t been sufficiently considered, I say. Now, Mr. Loft, +what women slept on that floor that night?” + +“Why on that floor?” objected Loft. “Granting a veiled woman went into +Curran’s room, late at night, she could have come down from the floor +above.” + +“Or up from the floor below,” added Angel. “I hate to seem to asperse +the character of a dead man, but Curran was evidently a woman lover +of sorts. He was, I can’t help thinking,--quite capable of a vulgar +intrigue with a housemaid,--and Valhalla employs some very pretty ones.” + +“It is an unpleasant supposition,” Loft said, gravely, “but I’d rather +think that, than to imagine any of our own people doing such a thing.” + +“Who were on that floor?” persisted Kinney. + +“Mrs. Meredith, Mrs. Knox, Miss Fuller, Miss Lawrence, the Countess, +and Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper,” Loft said shortly. “No one of +those is possible. My housekeeper is a staid, middle-aged person, and +the other ladies are out of the question. If there was a visitor, such +as Mr. Meredith described, it must have been--” + +“Tessie, perhaps,” Angel suggested. + +“Yes, Tessie, if anybody,” Loft agreed. “She is a naughty little +piece,--Mrs. Jennings has often threatened to discharge her. But she’s +a capable chambermaid, and such are not easy to get.” + +“Well, if Tessie did go there that night, she surely didn’t kill +Curran,” Angel said, reflectively. “How could she have done it?” + +“Like most theories, it presupposes previous acquaintance with Curran,” +Kinney said; “whoever killed that man, knew him before. Nobody could +have done it on first acquaintance.” + +“Unless it was Ned Knox,” Loft said; “I’m loath to suspect Ned, but you +know, Angel, how impulsive he is,--and how jealous of Anna.” + +Kinney looked disturbed. He hated to have Knox accused,--he hated any +reflection on Anna. + +“Mr. Knox was the one who advocated shooting,” he reminded them. + +“That’s nothing,” Loft said, “he had no pistol up here,--and, too, it +was less suspicious to choose the method he had not advocated.” + +Valentine Loft looked moody and worried. He did not want to accuse +Knox, but he had his own reasons for doing so. The man was beset by +doubts and fears. He felt the fearful responsibility of this misfortune +that had come to him,--and he had a secret cause for anxiety that was +driving him to distraction. If Knox should be proved the guilty person, +Loft, while not exactly glad, would be greatly relieved. + +Miss Dwyer, too, was a nuisance. As Loft was a lawyer, she appealed to +him continually in regard to minor legal questions. She declared she +would not let him touch her brother’s belongings or have anything to do +with the settlement of his estate, but she still pestered him with her +foolish questions and arguments. Miss Dwyer was by no means sure of the +guilt she attributed to Valentine Loft, but she did suspect him, and +indomitably she pursued her inquiries. + +No will of Hugh Curran had been heard of, so Miss Dwyer was doubtless +the sole heir. + +Repeatedly Loft advised her to put the whole matter in the hands of a +capable attorney,--but the spinster hesitated, her real reason being +that if Loft should be freed from her suspicion, he was the lawyer she +wished to retain. + +So she stayed at Valhalla, bothering every one, annoying every one, but +serenely unconscious of it. + +The passing days brought no new theories or discoveries on the part of +the police. Their knowledge of the circumstances seemed to be complete +as far as they could make it. No questioning of household or servant +brought any new revelations. + +Tessie, when grilled, seemed to be entirely innocent of any +acquaintanceship with Hugh Curran. The idea of her tapping on his door +that night was the merest surmise. The girl was frank and seemingly +truthful. + +Moreover, Violet vouched for her presence in the bedroom they shared, +soon after half-past one that night. + +“She has an alibi,” Angel said, as they discussed it after Tessie had +been dismissed. “An unshakable alibi,--if Violet tells the truth.” + +“If,” said Kinney. + +“I think she does,” Loft declared. “They are good girls, and Mrs. +Jennings says they are truthful. It’s too bad to suspect them with +positively no reason for it.” + +“That’s so,” Kinney agreed; “we must look elsewhere.” + + + + + CHAPTER IX + + PAULINE’S GRIEF + + +KINNEY, away from the lure of Anna’s presence, wondered how he had been +so subjugated by her. The man was soft-hearted but hard-headed, and, +thinking it all over, he began to wonder whether she hadn’t purposely +bamboozled him. + +He began to think that it would be quite possible for her story to +be all true up to the tap on Curran’s door. Or rather to the next +statement, which was that Anna was sure the visitor was a woman. + +Suppose it had not been a woman at all,--suppose it had been the irate +husband, Ned Knox. And suppose Anna, banking on Mr. Meredith’s story +had added her assurance that the caller was a woman. + +The more Kinney pondered over this idea, the more plausible it appeared +to him. He decided not to discuss it with anybody, but to ferret it out +himself. + +For, he had come to the conclusion that the men at Valhalla changed +their mental attitudes from day to day. Loft, himself, now suspected +Knox and the next day he would disclaim all such possibility. + +Kinney concluded finally that he would learn more from the women than +from the men. + +So he set forth on his day’s work by asking an interview with the +Countess Galaski. + +This self-important personage granted the request, and received him in +a small reception room where they could be alone. + +“I’m glad you have come to me at last, Mr. Kinney,” she said, her black +eyes snapping and her over-red lips set in a straight line. + +“You know something, madam?” he inquired, surprised. + +“I may know something and I may not,” she returned, “but at least, I +can give you a hint which way to look.” + +“I hope you will do so, Countess.” + +“Well,--find Mr. Curran’s watch.” + +“That is one of my chiefest endeavors. If you can give me a hint as to +its whereabouts, I shall indeed be grateful.” + +“I can’t do that, Mr. Kinney, but--has it never occurred to you to +search the rooms of the household,--guests, servants and all?” + +“Why, no,--I confess I’ve not thought of doing that.” + +“It might produce results.” + +“I can’t think so, Countess. Supposing for a moment, any one under this +roof had taken the watch, such a one would, of course, have disposed of +it before this. It’s over a week now, since Mr. Curran’s death, and no +one, I mean no one of criminal intent, would keep any damaging evidence +still in possession.” + +“Nevertheless, it could do no harm to look.” + +“Then advise me a little further. Look where? There’s no use in +searching all the rooms, if you have some knowledge,--some inkling of +where it may be.” + +The Countess pondered. + +“No;” she said, finally. “I can’t advise you. There may be no result +whatever, and in that case, I am not willing to mention any name.” + +“At least, you have given me a new idea, and I thank you, Countess. Do +help me further, and tell me when the rooms,--certain rooms are most +likely to be vacated. I don’t want to advertise this search, as that +would lead to greater precautions.” + +“You’ll have to watch for yourself. It should not be difficult. Say, if +several go for a motor drive this afternoon, you could go into their +rooms then. Or, there is always opportunity while we are at dinner or +luncheon.” + +Kinney looked at her admiringly. + +“It may seem to you, Countess, that you are instructing me in matters I +should have known myself. But, I admit, a search of the rooms here for +the missing watch, never came into my mind,--and, frankly, I don’t hope +for much from it.” + +“Maybe not,” the Countess smiled, “but it can do no harm. Of course, +you will ignore and forget any thing you may learn not bearing on your +case.” + +“Of course,” returned Kinney, sincerely. “I may include your room?” + +“Oh, yes, if you like; though the fact of my proposing this search +would seem to imply my own innocence. However, were I guilty myself, +I’d be clever enough to cook up this scheme,--so go ahead. Search my +room with the rest.” + +Kinney was not quite ready to follow this advice without telling +Valentine Loft of his intentions, so he went at once in quest of the +master of the house. + +“Why, of course,” Loft said; “go ahead, Kinney. I hate to have it done, +but if you think it necessary, proceed.” + +“I’ve wondered why you don’t do something of the sort,” said Baldwin, +who was with Loft in the smoking room. “And another thing, Mr. Kinney, +why don’t you check up alibis?” + +“I’ve tried to, Mr. Baldwin, but at two o’clock in the morning an alibi +is a hard thing to prove. Everybody simply says, ‘In bed, asleep,’ and +who’s to prove otherwise?” + +“That’s true,” Angel returned. “Mr. Loft and I can vouch for each +other, as I’m rooming in his suite, but most of the others are alone.” + +“That’s just it, sir,” said Kinney. “Even Mr. Knox was in his own +bedroom with the door closed. So his wife can’t swear to his alibi.” + +“Nor he to hers,” observed Loft. “Mr. Baldwin and I can swear to each +other’s presence from one o’clock on, and the Merediths shared a room. +Except for us four, every one roomed alone,--that’s so.” + +“That’s why I feel I must search the rooms,” Kinney stated. “There may +be some evidence against somebody, some unexpected clue--” + +“Yes, there may be,” Angel said; “and here’s another thing. I want +to look around Curran’s room a bit more. His sister has taken away +his personal belongings, but I think there might be some clues in the +waste basket or on the tables or floor. Roly Mears fancies himself as a +detective, but the boy doesn’t get anywhere. So, if you’ve the key, Mr. +Kinney, let’s run up there a few minutes.” + +“Very well, sir, I’m willing. Come along.” + +The two went up the great staircase, and as they turned into the +corridor that led to the room Hugh Curran had occupied, they almost +fell over pretty Tessie, the maid, who was stooping, her ear at the +keyhole of a door. + +“Here, you!” cried Kinney roughly, putting out his hand to snatch her +away. “What do you mean?” + +But to his surprise, instead of looking frightened, Tessie drew herself +upright, and finger on lip, motioned Kinney to listen himself at the +keyhole. + +Surprised into acquiescence the detective did so, and, listening +intently, he heard a woman’s agonized sobs. + +More, he heard broken snatches of sentences, cried out in agony, as if +irrepressible wailings of a broken heart. + +“If I could only forget!” were the words that came to him, scarcely +breathed, almost inaudible, yet he was just able to catch them. + +“I will forget!” she went on, after another short period of intense +grief. “I must--I will forget!” + +And then--in a clear, ringing triumphant voice, “I have forgotten, +yes,--I have forgotten!” + +Though not loud this was so unmistakably a desperate resolve, a +determined achievement, that Kinney could almost see the conquering +smile that must have accompanied it. + +And yet, the next instant, the speaker broke down again, and sobbed as +if her heart would break. + +Feeling ashamed of himself, Kinney stood up, and taking Tessie’s arm, +drew her along with them, and the three entered Hugh Curran’s room, as +Kinney unlocked the door. + +“Now,” he said, closing the door, pushing Tessie into a chair, and +standing over her with a lowering face. + +“Now, what do you mean by eavesdropping like that?” + +“It was this way, sir,” and Tessie was no whit embarrassed. “That’s +Miss Fuller’s room, and I went up to make it up, sir. At the door, I +thought I heard her crying, and I thought I’d better not intrude. I +stooped to listen, to make sure she really was crying, and then you +came along.” + +“That’s all right,” Angel said, nodding at Kinney. “Tessie is a +chambermaid on this floor and it was her duty to report for work. If +she heard Miss Fuller crying, she did right about hesitating to enter, +and though I can’t condone listening at keyholes, it seemed the natural +thing to do. Is anyone else in the room?” + +“I don’t know,” said Kinney, slowly. “Either there is, or Miss Fuller +was talking to herself. She was certainly in deep distress.” + +“Some one ought to go to her!” exclaimed Bob. “Some of the women.” + +“I don’t think so,” Kinney demurred. “She seemed in trouble of her own. +She was saying, ‘If I could only forget! I must forget!’ That sounds +like a personal, a private sorrow. I think it better not to intrude. A +little later, Tessie may go in,--and perhaps she can be of assistance +in some way.” + +“Miss Fuller has been like that before, sir,” Tessie volunteered. +“Twice, I’ve found her crying when I went to help her dress for dinner.” + +“What was her explanation?” asked Kinney. + +“The first time,--she said some dust had flown in her eyes from the +window. But I think she knew I didn’t believe that. The second time, +she said nothing,--just bathed her eyes and let me dress her without a +word.” + +“Then she won’t resent your presence now. Run along, Tessie; if you +can get in, do all you can for her. If not, come back here and tell us +about it.” + +“Yes, Mr. Kinney,” and the astute maid went away. + +“That girl knows a lot,” said Baldwin. “She’s either a good faithful +servant, or she’s a wily, canny fraud. I don’t know which.” + +“She’s both,” said Kinney, sapiently. “She’s a good servant,--Mr. Loft +says so,--but she’s mighty cute. Little goes on that she doesn’t see.” + +“Yes, she saw Mrs. Knox on the balcony,” Angel reminded him. + +“I don’t believe she did,” and Kinney remembered his promise to Anna. +“I think she made that yarn up.” + +“Good for you,” cried Baldwin. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I’d hate +to believe any wrong of Mrs. Knox. But get busy, Kinney, and help me +look round this place. Hello, where’s the book catalogue gone?” + +“Which one? Here are two.” + +“Yes, they’re little ones. But there was a big one, it was here that +morning,--when we found Mr. Curran.” + +“Do you want it? I suppose it can be found. Probably Mr. Loft took +it,--or maybe Miss Dwyer. She wants to sell the books of her brother, +you know.” + +“It doesn’t matter. I can get another like it. Now let’s hunt the waste +basket. There are always clues in a waste basket. Or, I’ll look in it, +while you search the bureau drawers. I can’t help feeling there are +clues to be found in his room.” + +Bob bent over the basket and Kinney obediently searched the drawers of +dresser and chiffonier. + +“Nothing doing,” the detective said, at last, turning to the other. +“You found anything?” + +He smiled at the heap of litter Bob had turned out on the floor. + +“No,” was the perplexed reply. + +“Looking for anything in particular? You seem disappointed.” + +“I am disappointed, but I’m not after anything in particular. Except I +hoped to find some letter or note that might tell us something. Come +on, I’ve searched all I want to. I don’t think so much of waste basket +clues after all. I can find no ‘feathers left around’ at all.” + +They went away, and a slight pause at the door of Pauline Fuller’s room +brought no sound to the ears of the detective. + +“All quiet in here now,” he said, rather soberly, as they went +downstairs. + +And at the luncheon table, Bob, to his surprise, found Pauline in +an unusually gay mood. She was talkative and animated, and her good +spirits infected the others, until the atmosphere became more cheery +and bright than it had been since the occurrence of the tragedy. + +Luncheon over, Bob took possession of Little Anna and carried her off +for a stroll in the gardens. + +“I just want to tell you, dear,” Angel said, “that I, for one, do not +believe that yarn of Tessie’s about you.” + +“You blessed Angel!” and Anna gave him her loveliest smile. “I’m glad I +have at least one friend at court.” + +“And so,” Bob went on, “that lets Ned out as a suspect. For though you +did make a few eyes at Curran during the evening, that wasn’t enough to +rouse jealous old Ned to the killing pitch.” + +“Of course it wasn’t,” and Anna beamed satisfaction. “Now, Angel, who +did do it?” + +“Anna,--look here. Ned is out of it,--I’m vouched for by Valentine +himself, so I’m out of it. Now, there’s only one left of the trio who +discussed ways and means--” + +“Val himself!” said Anna, softly. “But why, Angel, for Heaven’s sake, +_why_?” + +“I don’t know,--but,--oh, Anna, I can’t say it,--but do you think, can +you imagine that Pauline knew Curran before?” + +Anna looked both serious and frightened. + +“I wouldn’t think so, Angel, only,--when Mr. Curran did that mind +reading stunt,--Pauline did look self-conscious.” + +“At what?” + +“I think it was at ‘Mr. S.’ You know, Hugh Curran flung out ‘Mr. S.’, +and ‘Rosalie,’ and--now, Angel, don’t kill me! but I felt sure that +Pauline turned white and gripped at her chair arms when he said, ‘Mr. +S.’ and--yes, I will tell you,--I thought you did, Bob, when he said +‘Rosalie’! Did you?” + +“Did I? I did not! I never knew anybody named Rosalie in my life. +I never heard the name except in some general way. But, Anna, that +‘Rosalie’ has been explained. It seems it was his wife’s name, or +nickname. His sister said so.” + +“Yes,--I know. But he didn’t say it that night because it was his +wife’s name. Nobody here ever heard of his wife. He used it to tease +somebody and I thought it might be you.” + +“Well it wasn’t. Maybe Val knows some Rosalie person,--or maybe your +Ned does,--I don’t.” + +“Ned doesn’t either, I asked him. Well, it’s no matter anyway. But I’m +positive Pauline was upset at the mention of ‘Mr. S.’ and that’s why I +thought maybe she had known Mr. Curran before. Or maybe she knew some +‘Mr. S.’ who also knew Mr. Curran.” + +“Maybe,” said Bob. “Anyway, Pauline was in high spirits at lunch time.” + +“Put on,” and Anna wagged her head sagaciously. “I know Pauline,--and +the worse she feels, the gayer she acts,--I mean, if she doesn’t want +people to know.” + +Baldwin thought of Kinney’s account of Pauline’s grief that morning, +and he wondered. + +“You’re sure, Anna?” he inquired. + +“Positive. And, too, I know Pauline had been crying. She had on an +extra touch of rouge, but she couldn’t entirely correct her reddened +eyelids. Whatever was the matter, she cried over it. Then she made a +very careful toilette, dressed her hair and fixed up her face with +greatest care,--but she couldn’t fool me. She had had one good big cry +this morning, that I know.” + +“Oh, well, I suppose you women all have your ups and downs.” + +“Of course, and it’s enough to make Pauly cry to have all this horror +here, so shortly before her wedding day.” + +“Is the day set?” + +“Not quite, but it will be inside a couple of months. That is, it would +have been. I don’t know whether this horrid business will postpone it +or not. But, Angel, nobody seems to get anywhere. Why is nothing being +done?” + +“It’s a hard nut to crack, Anna. And the wheels of justice move +slowly--” + +“They don’t move at all! I’m trying to get Ned to take me away.” + +“He can’t, Anna, until he is freed from suspicion.” + +“Ned! Suspicion! Ridiculous!” + +“Ridiculous, I grant, but that Dwyer woman holds that all of us, Ned, +Val, and myself are under suspicion, because of that fool talk we had--” + +“But you’ve just said Val can prove your alibi.” + +“I know,--but I can’t prove his. You see, the house was crowded that +night, and I went into Val’s suite. I slept in his bed,--he would have +it so,--and he slept on the couch in his sitting room. So,--the way the +rooms are,--he could go out into the hall if he wished, and I wouldn’t +know it,--unless I heard him--” + +“The door was closed between you two?” + +“Yes; and the room he slept in opens out to the hall, but the bedroom +where I was, doesn’t. So that, if he stepped carefully, he could easily +go out and return without my knowing it; whereas, I couldn’t get out +to the hall, without going through the room where he slept. And he’s a +very light sleeper,--so there’s my alibi. Besides, I didn’t go out, or +try to go out at all.” + +“Of course you didn’t. Why would you kill Curran?” + +“It isn’t the why, Anna, it’s the who? Why would Val kill him? And yet, +if it really was one of us three, and if you take Ned out, and if Val +proved my alibi, there’s no one left but Val.” + +“Rubbish, it never was Val!” + +“No, I don’t think it was either.” + +Yet it was not long before Angel Bob had an opportunity to revise his +opinion. + +On their return to the house, Roly Mears beckoned to Bob, excitedly. + +“Come on, old chap,” he said, in a low tone; “come on, quick.” + +Leaving Anna with the others, Bob followed Roly, who took him to the +library, where Kinney was waiting. + +“Mr. Kinney has found something, Angel,” Roly said. “I don’t want to +tell Val, or anybody, until you hear about it. Tell him, Mr. Kinney.” + +“While you were all at luncheon,” Kinney began, his face expressing an +unwillingness to divulge the secret he had, “I made some search among +the bedrooms. I hated to do it, but it had to be done. I looked in the +ladies’ rooms first, so as to be sure to get that done while they were +absent, and in the rooms of the Countess, Miss Lawrence and Miss Dwyer, +I found nothing of any informative importance. But,--when I went into +Miss Fuller’s room,--I did.” + +“What did you find?” asked Baldwin. He tried to make his voice casual +but it shook a little in spite of himself. Was the beautiful Pauline to +be dragged into this miserable business? + +“I can’t think it was anything incriminating,” he added. + +“It seems to me it is, sir,” and Kinney looked as sorrowful as Angel +himself. + +As he spoke, he handed over to Bob a watch. + +It was gold, very thin, and it had no chain or fob attached. + +He took it mechanically. Before he examined it at all, he knew it must +be Hugh Curran’s watch, and the conviction jarred him terribly. + +“It is Mr. Curran’s?” he asked, staring at the timepiece. + +“Yes, Mr. Baldwin. Hidden in a small desk which was locked.” + +“And which you pried open?” + +“And which I opened with a skeleton key. I had to. It was necessary in +the interest of justice.” + +“Damn you and your justice! How dare you break into a lady’s locked +desk?” + +“Softly, now, Mr. Baldwin. That is the duty of a detective. And +the fact of its being there, locked up, proves it a secret of Miss +Fuller’s.” + +“Secret nothing! If this watch was in Miss Fuller’s room, it had a +right there. Mr. Curran must have given it to her.” + +“Very good, sir. That may be. And, now, Mr. Baldwin, if you’ll just +look at the picture in the watch case--” + +Unwilling, yet urged on by the impatient glances of both Kinney and +Roly Mears, Angel Bob clicked open the back of Hugh Curran’s watch. + +And found himself looking on the beautiful face of Pauline Fuller. + +Stunned, aghast, he quickly snapped it shut, and stared at Mears. + +“What does it mean?” he whispered. His bravado was gone, his face took +on a frightened pallor. Angel was emotional, his quick mind saw into +the past, turned, saw into the future, and both looked so black, he +groaned aloud. + +“Val!” he cried, in anguish, “Valentine! Oh, Pauline!” + + + + + CHAPTER X + + CURRAN’S WATCH + + +IT was a moment before Baldwin could pull himself together. + +“I can’t seem to sense it,” he said, musingly. “That watch,--hidden in +Miss Fuller’s room! Oh,--I see,--it’s a plant!” + +“A plant?” inquired Roly. + +“Yes,--somebody has done it to drag Pauline into this mess,--or, the +criminal is trying to divert suspicion from himself--” + +“Herself!” Mears exclaimed; “if your suggestion is true, that’s a +woman’s trick! And, it may be mere mischief--do you suppose Anna--” + +“Oh, hush, Roly,” Bob exclaimed. “Why harp on Anna?” + +“But there’s more to this than meets the eye. You see, Angel, if Ned +killed Curran because he flirted with Anna, then Anna is going to use +every means to turn suspicion from Ned.” + +“It looks like that to me,” Detective Kinney agreed. “To my way of +thinking, Mr. Knox is the only one who seems to have a motive--” + +“_Seems_ to have,--perhaps,” Roly said; “but anybody else may +have a motive of which we know nothing. Ned Knox is impulsive, +impetuous,--but I can’t believe he’d murder,--just because of a +flirtation--” + +“We don’t know, Mr. Mears,” Kinney reminded him, “just how serious +that flirtation was. Men _have_ killed other men, when they found +them--” + +“Never mind,--don’t speculate,” Roly said; “now, Angel, what is the +thing to do,--regarding the watch, I mean?” + +“Take it straight to Val,” Baldwin replied, promptly. “It’s the only +thing to do. We can’t speak of it to Pauline,--I don’t for a minute +believe she knows a thing about it--” + +“Now, now, Mr. Baldwin, I think she does,” Kinney spoke gravely. “It’s +all very well to hold a lady above suspicion,--but I can’t see how the +murderer could get that watch into Miss Fuller’s locked desk--” + +“Don’t speculate, let’s find out. I say, show the watch to Mr. Loft, +tell him the whole story, and do as he says. Give him the first chance +to clear Miss Fuller--for, she must be cleared.” + +“I’d rather put it up to the lady herself,” the detective demurred. + +“Well, you can’t.” Angel Bob was dominating. “If she knows nothing +of it, we must find out who does,--and if Miss Fuller is in any way +implicated, it will come out soon enough. Mr. Loft is the right one to +go to, for he will want to shield Miss Fuller from any unpleasantness +possible.” + +Kinney looked a little surprised at the methods that seemed to obtain +among gentlemen, but he was willing to take the matter to Valentine +Loft, and said so. + +“Come on, then,” and with the amazed look still on his face, Baldwin +led the way. + +They found Loft and beckoned to him, and the four men went into the +library and shut the door. + +“What is it?” Loft asked; “anything new?” + +His lean, strong face looked careworn, his expression was not +hopeful. As a matter of fact, he was pretty well bowled over by the +misfortune that had fallen on his house. He dreaded any solution of the +mystery,--for he could conceive of none that would not implicate some +of his friends or guests, and he wanted, most of all, to be rid of the +whole business. + +But a glance at the faces of those about him now, showed him that there +was something of importance to be divulged. + +“Out with it,” he said; “you have found something, I see.” + +“Yes,” said Kinney, “we have found Hugh Curran’s watch.” + +“Whose picture is in it?” Loft asked, quickly. “Anna’s?” + +He bit his lip, annoyed at his own impulsive question. He wouldn’t have +minded Bob and Roly, but he was truly sorry to have made the suggestion +before Kinney. + +However, the detective showed no interest in Anna’s name, but he +watched Loft closely as he handed the watch to him. + +Snapping open the back case, Valentine Loft saw the picture of Pauline. + +It was not a recent one,--clearly it had been taken a few years since, +but it was unmistakable. + +The beautiful smiling face was happy and even roguish. A different +Pauline from the dignified, gracious woman they knew,--a girl Pauline, +almost childish in her innocent smile. + +Loft gazed as if hypnotized. + +Had it been less tragic it would have been almost comical to note the +mild wonder in his face as he turned it to his two friends, ignoring +the detective entirely. + +“Where do you suppose Curran ever got Pauly’s picture?” he said; “such +a good one, too,--when she was a little girl,--almost.” + +“It doesn’t mean anything to you, then, Mr. Loft?” Kinney asked, +staring hard at him. + +“Mean anything? It means that somehow Mr. Curran became possessed of +Miss Fuller’s picture,--and as it was so beautiful, he kept it.” + +“She didn’t give it to him?” + +“She never saw him until she met him here. She told me so herself.” + +The calm finality of Loft’s tone left no room for doubt of his utter +belief in his fiancée’s word. + +“Well, Mr. Loft, I’m sorry to tell you that I found the watch, hidden +in a locked desk in Miss Fuller’s room.” + +“Who put it there?” Loft’s tone was quiet, but the men who knew him +could see a gleam come into his eye. + +“We don’t know,” Kinney spoke almost gently, “but in my opinion, Miss +Fuller put it there herself.” + +“Mr. Kinney,” Loft spoke very sternly, “if you mean she did so with +some unexplained but innocent intent, very well. If, however, you are +implying or suggesting a shade of doubt or suspicion of Miss Fuller--in +any way,--you will answer to me for it! How dare you,” he went on, as +Kinney’s face told plainly that he had his suspicions, “how dare you +even speak the name of that lady in connection with wrong-doing of any +sort? I--I could kill you where you sit!” + +“Now, Val,” Angel interrupted, “don’t sling around any more remarks +about killing! We’re too careless in the way we use that word. You’re +not going to kill Mr. Kinney,--and you must listen, if he has any +theories to offer. Good Heavens, man, his words,--whatever they might +be,--couldn’t hurt Pauline!” + +“No; but they hurt me! They infuriate me! I won’t have it! Retract, Mr. +Kinney, or leave my house this instant!” + +“I haven’t said anything yet,” Kinney reminded him; “and, too, Mr. +Loft, as an agent of the Law, I can’t be ordered out of a house, even +by its owner.” + +“Law or no law, I’ll put you out myself, if you mention the lady’s name +again,--in any connection whatever!” + +“Why, Val,” cried Mears, “I’ve never seen you excited before! Don’t +take it like that!” + +“There’s only one way to take it,--to quash it!” Loft stormed on; “I +repeat, if you found that watch in Miss Fuller’s room,--it was put +there by some evil-minded individual, either to make trouble for Miss +Fuller, or to save his own skin! The murderer of Hugh Curran put it +there, I have no doubt,--and as to why or how he did it,--I don’t know +and don’t care! I will say, however, Mr. Kinney, that you have done +nothing since your arrival,--that you have discovered nothing. That you +are making trouble instead of curing it, and that unless you agree to +drop this particular phase of the matter I shall take steps to have you +removed--in the name of the Law!” + +“Fine talk, sir,” said Kinney, who grew calmer as Loft grew more +excited. “Fine talk, but it gets you nowhere. Why not face facts, Mr. +Loft? Why not accept the fact that I found the watch,--as I said,--and +let me confront Miss Fuller with the fact, and receive her doubtless +satisfactory explanation of its presence in her locked desk.” + +Valentine Loft looked at the speaker with a glance of utter disdain. + +“You shall never have an interview of any sort with Miss Fuller,” he +said, more quietly than he had yet spoken. “If the watch must be shown +to her, or discussed with her,--I will do it,--no one else may.” + +“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on being present at that interview, Mr. +Loft,” and the detective shook his head doggedly. + +“You shall not! You sneaking, spying--” + +“Now, Valentine,” Angel Bob seemed almost alarmed, “let up on all +that. I know how you feel about Pauline, but can’t you see, man, that +all your bluster and anger doesn’t help her cause any? In fact, it +strengthens any possible suspicion against--” + +“Don’t dare say it, Bob!” Loft’s eyes were blazing, and he turned +on Baldwin in fierce anger. “I am blustering,--I know it. I never +blustered before in my life,--I never had occasion to! But this!” + +Loft stopped suddenly, and again looked at the picture in the watch +which he still held in his hand. + +As he gazed, his face softened, his features relaxed into a half smile, +and he said, at last: + +“This must have been taken when Pauly was a school girl. She can’t be +more than eighteen, here. I daresay she gave it to some school chum, +and Curran got possession of it merely as a fancy picture. For he never +knew Pauly. I’ll go to her,--she’ll tell me all about it,--but you must +let me go alone, Mr. Kinney. I’ll agree, on my honor, to tell you all +she says, but I really don’t want an audience to our conversation.” + +Loft had calmed down to his usual composure, and his voice was tranquil +again. Having hit on what seemed to him an adequate solution of the +picture in Curran’s watch, he was ready to treat Kinney in his former +friendly manner. + +The two men were not at all congenial,--the detective’s blunt business +manners were distasteful to Loft’s suave culture, but if Pauline’s name +could be stricken from the detective’s slate, Loft would let him run +his own gait in peace. + +“Will you go and inquire about the matter at once, Mr. Loft?” Kinney +asked. + +“I will do it during the afternoon, Mr. Kinney. Not just at the moment, +for I chance to know that Miss Fuller has gone to her room for a nap. I +am not willing to disturb her,--it is her habit to rest after luncheon. +But I will arrange to see her this afternoon sometime, and I will take +up the subject with her. Meantime, I will keep the watch.” + +“No, Mr. Loft, I will keep the watch. It is a piece of material +evidence,--at least, as things stand now.” + +“A feather left around,” said Roly, smiling. “Let him keep it, Val,--he +has the right to.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” and Loft handed the watch back to the detective, +with a faint shrug of his shoulders, as if, after all, the incident was +of small account. + +“You’d do well to adopt a maxim of mine, Kinney,” he said. “It is, ‘Do +nothing and all will be done.’ Ever hear it before?” + +“No, and I never want to again. I’d get nowhere at all, if I worked on +that line, Mr. Loft.” + +“That’s where you make your mistake. There are many times when a +masterly inactivity brings about the best results. This is one of +them. Do nothing in that watch matter,--it will all be done. I’ll meet +you here, say, at five o’clock,--it’s three, now,--and I’ll prove my +statement.” + +And with this Kinney was forced to be content. + +Unable to find better company he attached himself to Miss Dwyer. + +She was always ready to talk to him, but he rarely gained any +information from her. + +This time, however, she had something on her mind. + +“I have a theory, Mr. Kinney,” she said, her pale blue eyes blinking +with earnestness, “and it’s this. You see, my brother was killed by +somebody in this house. None of the servants did it,--that’s too +ridiculous! So, it was some of the household themselves,--or guests, +I mean. Well, not one of them knew my brother, or had any personal +motive to kill him. But, he was a great and successful book collector. +So, I am sure the motive was possession of his rare volumes. To you +this may seem an inadequate motive,--but I assure you it is not. I +know, Mr. Baldwin says that the big collectors don’t kill to get the +treasures,--but he may be mistaken in this instance, and, too, Mr. Loft +isn’t a very big collector.” + +“Oh, so it’s Mr. Loft you are favoring with your suspicions, is it? +But, Mr. Baldwin is also interested in books.” + +“Not in the same way. You don’t know about such matters, I +daresay,--but the collector’s mania is really a dangerous thing. Mr. +Baldwin wants books to buy and then to sell to another customer. He +doesn’t have that craving to possess that besets the collector. It is +a desperate covetousness, an insane envy that leads to any lengths to +get the desired book. I know, for I know how it affected my brother. +He never committed crime, but I know,--ah, I know that he resorted to +means not--not strictly honorable.” + +“All very interesting, Miss Dwyer, but we have no evidence. You see +both Mr. Loft and Mr. Baldwin were in their rooms all night, after one +o’clock or so.” + +“You’ve only their word for that.” + +Kinney looked at her, startled. It was true,--if Loft and Baldwin had +been disposed, they could have acted in collusion, and could have +accomplished the deed more easily than any one else. If there were any +way to get in and out of that locked door, Loft would know about his +own house. + +Kinney had sneaking suspicions of a secret passage somewhere, but his +closest scrutiny had been unable to find any trace of such. + +He put Miss Hetty’s suggestion away in his brain to think about later, +and said: + +“What does Mr. Curran’s fiancée look like?” + +“Just a pretty young thing.” + +“Does she look at all like Miss Fuller?” + +“Not the least mite,--almost her opposite. Why?” + +“Nothing. Why didn’t he carry her picture in his watch?” + +“I don’t know. Maybe he did. I’m told his watch was stolen from him, +wasn’t it?” + +“It was missing when the body was found,” Kinney evaded, “but he might +have put it away himself.” + +As the pair talked, a few others had come out on the terrace, and the +Countess, passing, heard the word “watch.” + +“Found it?” she said, quickly, seating herself by Kinney. “I told you +to look for that watch.” + +“Why,”--and Kinney looked at her curiously. + +“Because it might easily prove indicative. And I know you’ve found it, +Mr. Kinney! Your countenance is not always under control, and I’m sure +you’ve found it! Where was it?” + +Kinney was taken aback, but he was quick-witted at times, and he +replied, easily: + +“No such luck, Countess Galaski. It may turn up,--but I searched +several places without success.” + +Miss Hetty Dwyer, never at ease in the presence of the caustic Countess +had walked away, and glancing around to be sure no one else was +listening, the Countess went on: + +“You would do well, Mr. Kinney, to take me into your confidence. I +could be of real help to you.” + +Kinney was a little weary of offers of help from women, but he never +dared neglect a possible bit of assistance. + +“I’ve nothing particular to confide, ma’am, but if you’ve any helpful +information it’s your duty to give it out.” + +“Not information,--merely advice. And here it is,--if you want it +bluntly. Beware of that little Mrs. Knox. I know how she is pulling +wool over your eyes--” + +“What?” + +Kinney was so surprised that he quite forgot his manners. + +“Yes,--that’s just what she does to everybody.” + +“Ah,” Kinney thought to himself, “feminine jealousy.” + +“I don’t care how much she flirts or with whom,” the lady went on, “but +I want you to be on your guard when she comes to giving you information +about--about that night.” + +“Oh, I know all she can tell me,” Kinney shrugged his shoulders. +“Know all about that balcony episode, and while it may be a straw +to show which way the wind blows,--I don’t think it is. Nor can I +see her husband in such a rage that he would poison the man who was +flirting with her. In a frenzy of jealous passion a man might shoot or +stab,--but he couldn’t poison.” + +“Rubbish!” the Countess snapped. “I don’t say that he did,--but it’s +foolish to say that he couldn’t. Whoever gave that poison to Mr. +Curran did it in some diabolically clever manner. Yet it was done. +Now, one could do it as well as another.” + +“How about some one interested in books?” Kinney asked, remembering +Miss Dwyer’s talk. + +“I think it’s as plausible a motive as jealousy,” the Countess replied. +“But why bother with motive,--find your criminal and then you’ll know +the motive.” + +Kinney smiled. “I’d be glad to find either criminal or motive. It’s the +most ungetatable case I ever handled. I can suspect everybody yet I can +suspect nobody. Every one is apparently frank and outspoken, yet also +everybody is unwilling to talk about the case.” + +“Of course nobody wants to talk about the awful affair if it can be +helped. But I’m sure we all want to tell you anything you may wish to +ask.” + +“Very well, then, Countess Galaski, do you suspect any one,--any one at +all?” + +After a pause, the Countess said, slowly: “Yes, I think I do.” + +“Will you tell me who it is?” + +“It is ‘Rosalie’.” + +“But--‘Rosalie,’ that is the name of Mr. Curran’s divorced wife. She +isn’t here.” + +“I don’t mean Rosalie in person,--I mean the one who was in Mr. +Curran’s mind, when he spoke the name of Rosalie that night.” + +“But,--I’ve heard it rumored that Mr. Baldwin was disturbed when Mr. +Curran mentioned that name.” + +“The rumors are wrong then. It was not Mr. Baldwin who was +self-conscious at the name of Rosalie.” + +“No? Who was, then?” + +“That I shall not tell. I may be all wrong,--I wouldn’t for the world +attract attention to the wrong person. But, take my word for it, +Mr. Curran had no thought of Bob Baldwin, when he said, ‘Rosalie.’ +I thought Mr. Baldwin looked a little annoyed at the name of ‘Mr. +S.’ But I’m not sure. I may be mistaken as to that. But to return to +my well-meant warning, don’t believe all Mrs. Knox tells you. She +is a spiteful little cat, and while she is not exactly in love with +Valentine Loft, she takes delight in trying to stir up trouble between +him and Miss Fuller.” + +“She hasn’t succeeded as yet,” said Kinney, remembering Loft’s valiant +defence of his fiancée. + +“No,--but she will if she can. She’s a little devil,--loves mischief +for the sheer fun of it!” + +“Pleasant character!” + +“Oh, she’s so pretty and charming and innocent of appearance she is +beloved of all.” + +Kinney went off by himself and found he had plenty to meditate upon +until five o’clock, when he was due to meet Loft in the library. + +He went there, and found the master of Valhalla waiting for him. No one +else was present, and Loft carefully shut the door. + +“Mr. Kinney,” he began, “I am in very grave trouble. As I promised you, +I tried to obtain an interview with Miss Fuller. But Miss Fuller has +gone away.” + +“Run away!” Kinney almost shouted. + +“Gone away,” I said. “Pray, be quiet. I am myself at my wits’ end, but +I realize it is necessary to consider very carefully our next step.” + +“Our next step is to find Miss Fuller.” + +“I’m glad you agree with me. It certainly is. Now, Mr. Kinney, will you +undertake to find her? Or would you prefer that I should get another--a +private detective to do that? Also, I want no publicity. I want it +given out that Miss Fuller has gone home for a rest,--or, gone away on +a visit. I do not want it known that her departure was made hastily and +secretly.” + +“I can’t keep it so dark, Mr. Loft. We can’t find her without +publicity. Look at the thing yourself. We find the watch in her +possession, locked in her desk. We take the watch,--she discovers it is +gone and she seeks safety in flight. What’s the answer?” + +Valentine Loft showed none of the indignation and anger he had +displayed in the morning. + +“I don’t know the answer,” he returned, quietly; “but I do know Miss +Fuller. She may be the victim of distressing circumstances, but there +is no stigma of wrong possible in connection with her name. Now, she +must be found. How shall we set about it?” + + + + + CHAPTER XI + + PAULINE’S FLIGHT + + +LOFT had sent for Angel, feeling that he wanted a friend to confer with. + +“Pauly’s gone away,” he said briefly, as Baldwin entered the library. + +Angel gave him a quick glance, but said, merely, + +“Where to?” + +“I don’t know,” Loft returned. “In fact, Angel, she went without my +knowing it. I tried to find her just now, but she has gone off in the +little car.” + +“Who took her?” + +“Bates, and Tessie went with her. The housekeeper told me all this but +she knew nothing more. Bates ought to be back by this time, if Pauline +went to the Railway Station, and the housekeeper thinks she did.” + +“Well, we can’t wait for any Bates,” Kinney broke in, impatiently. “I +know, Mr. Loft, how you hate publicity and all that, but Miss Fuller +has been doing queer things----” + +“What do you mean by queer things?” Loft spoke quietly, but there was +a steely gleam in his eye that Angel knew meant battle. “Miss Fuller +has done nothing that you know of. You have no proof that she took Mr. +Curran’s watch, or that she ever saw the thing. There is a deep-minded +criminal behind all this business, and it is not a woman. Some daring +and ingenious villain entered my house, killed Hugh Curran and tried to +fasten the blame on Miss Fuller. That’s the way I see it.” + +“And that’s the way I should see it, if I were the young lady’s +intended, as you are,” Kinney returned, dryly. “But being a +detective,--not a great one, but at least, a clear-headed one, I say +that when a ‘feather left around’ is hidden in her own bedroom, and +when it is taken from its hiding place, she misses it and immediately +disappears herself;--then my clear-sightedness leads me to think she +ought to be looked up.” + +“No one wants to ‘look her up’ more than I do,” Loft said, earnestly. +“And, as a bit of disinterested advice, Kinney,--” + +“Excuse me, Mr. Loft, you’re not capable of giving disinterested advice +just now. And, excuse me again, I don’t want it. My duty is to find +Miss Fuller. My intention is to do it in my own way.” + +“But, I say, Kinney,” Angel put in, “if Mr. Loft wants to find the +lady, I’m sure his method of search will be more successful than any +you can attempt.” + +“Sure you may be, sir, but that makes no difference to me. I know my +duty, and I’m going to do it. Now, it’s true, the hunt for Miss Fuller +may mean publicity, may mean police procedure, but I’ll promise you +this, I’ll keep it as quiet as I can. If you want to help,--where do +you think she’d go, Mr. Loft?” + +“Here’s the car,” Angel cried, looking from the window. “Bates can +surely tell us something.” + +Bates and Tessie were called in, and Loft asked the chauffeur what Miss +Fuller had said. + +“She sent Tessie to me,” Bates replied, “and said she’d like the little +car to go to the station for the four-forty-five. So I was at the +door, and she and Tessie got in the car, and we went to the station. +There she bid me get her a ticket to New York and a chair. I did that, +and then when the train came in she got on it. That’s all I know, Mr. +Loft.” + +“Well, Tessie,” the detective spoke this time, “what can you tell us +about Miss Fuller’s journey?” + +“Nothing, sir,” and though not impertinent, Tessie looked mutinous. + +“Detail all she said to you, as she prepared to go,” Kinney ordered, +sternly. + +“Why, she only said, ‘I’m going to New York, Tessie. Pack me an +overnight bag.’ And I did.” + +“What did you put in it?” + +“Only her night things and toilet articles.” + +“No dresses? No jewels?” + +“No, sir, just enough for a night’s stay,--without dressing for dinner.” + +“H’m,--looks bad. Now, didn’t Miss Fuller say a word,--while you were +helping her dress,--about her plans?” + +“Not a word, sir.” + +“Do you mean she said nothing at all,--or nothing about her plans?” + +Tessie considered. “I don’t remember her saying anything at all. If she +did it was only to direct me what gown she wanted to wear,--or what +shoes.” + +“What did she wear?” + +“A black Canton crêpe, with cape to match,--and a black hat with a +small veil.” + +“Inconspicuous costume,--naturally. She took a lot of money with her?” + +“I don’t know. She always carries a small handbag which she packs +herself.” + +“All her money and jewels in that, of course. Well, Mr. Loft, I doubt +if you’ll see Miss Fuller again very soon.” + +“Is that your opinion, Mr. Kinney? Be good enough not to express it to +me again. Tessie, you may go. Wait a moment, tell me,--did Miss Fuller +say nothing at all that gave you any indication of why she went, or how +long she meant to stay?” + +“No, sir, not a word.” Tessie’s eyes filled with tears and she resorted +to her handkerchief. + +“And,” Loft’s voice shook a little, “did she give you any--any message +for me? You may speak right out before these gentlemen.” + +“Yes, she did!” and now Tessie sobbed openly, “she said to tell you +‘Good-by,’ that’s all, sir, just ‘Good-by.’” + +“Very well, Tessie, you may go.” + +Valentine Loft had perfect control now of his voice, and he nodded a +dismissal to Bates, who stood at attention. + +But Angel could read the despair in his eyes, the distress in his +tense-drawn lips, and he knew that his friend’s soul was tasting the +torments of hell. + +Yet Loft turned a calm face to Kinney, and said, “What is your plan? +What would be your idea of efficient search?” + +“I’ll tell you, sir. We know the lady took the four-forty-five to New +York. We’ve only to wire the police authorities along the route to hold +her if she leaves the train before she reaches the city. She won’t, +though. In all probability, she’ll make straight for the metropolis, +knowing she can lose herself there easier than in a small town. She’s a +deep one,--that one!” + +“Omit your comments on the lady, if you please, Mr. Kinney.” Loft’s +tone was icy but his eyes blazed fire. + +Angel looked at him with some apprehension, for he feared a real +explosion if Kinney irritated him much further. + +“All right, sir. Nothing personal meant. Well, say we head her off +in New York, and then just have her followed,--that’s better than an +immediate arrest.” + +“Yes, much better,” said Loft, in such a dry way, that Angel turned +quickly to look at him. And the slight smile on Loft’s face puzzled him. + +“You see, Mr. Loft,” Kinney went on, “I’m interested in Miss Fuller +for more reasons than one. I may as well tell you that I heard her +sobbing and weeping in her room,--and crying out, ‘I must forget! How +_can_ I forget?’ and after a time, as if by sheer will power, ‘I +have forgotten!’ Now, I can construct a pretty little theory, that in +a girlish flirtation, Miss Fuller once gave her picture to Mr. Curran, +and----” + +“Go, Mr. Kinney,” Loft rose and pointed to the door; “go, and take +your pretty little theories with you! I may see you later,--though I’d +rather not, unless absolutely necessary,--but in any case, I can’t +stand any more just now. Go.” + +The upraised voice, the steady, pointing finger, rather awed Kinney, +for there was no touch of melodrama about Loft. He merely had reached +the end of his rope, and said so. + +As the door closed behind the detective, Angel asked: + +“Why did you smile, Val?” + +“At that fool detective. You know, Pauly never went to New York. If +she took a ticket for New York it’s a dead certainty that she left the +train after a few stops, and went the other way,--to Boston or Albany. +I know Pauline so well, that I can read her mental workings. If she +wants to disappear,--and it must be, Angel, that she does,--then she +would do it more cleverly than any one in the world.” + +“You’re right,--of course. But what does it all mean, Val?” + +“I don’t know,--but it is serious, very serious. I shan’t let Kinney +know I think it so, but it is. Any advice, Angel?” + +“Not yet,--maybe I can dope some out. But all my sympathy, old chap, +and all my help,--at least, all my efforts. What can I do?” + +“I don’t know. I never in my life felt so helpless. What’s all that +about Pauly’s crying in her room,--and wanting to ‘forget’?” + +“Do you suppose,--you know, Val, if I’m to help we must be entirely +frank,--do you suppose she did know Curran before?” + +“I know she didn’t,--for she told me so.” Loft spoke simply. “I shall +always believe her word against all the witnesses or evidence in the +whole world. If she had known Curran before, she would have told me so.” + +“Of course,” said Angel, but his acquiescence was based upon his desire +to agree with his friend rather than on his faith in feminine candor. + +“What about that Rosalie and Mr. S. business,” Loft went on, wrinkling +his eyebrows. “I’ve never spoken of it before, but it seemed to me +Pauly winced at one of those names.” + +“Which one--?” + +“I don’t remember. Mr. S., I suppose,--there’s nothing to alarm a woman +in another woman’s name.” + +“Was she alarmed?” + +“Not quite, but I’m so sensitive to any change of expression on +her face, that I thought I observed a little tremor of surprise or +annoyance. It probably meant nothing,--” + +“But it would presuppose a knowledge of Curran in some way,” Angel +added, meditatively. “Suppose she did know him before, Val; suppose she +didn’t tell you of it,--would it make any difference in your feeling +toward her?” + +“In my feeling toward Pauline! I should say _not_! Why, if she +told me all the lies in the catalogue,--or wherever lies grow,--it +would make no difference in my feelings toward her! She couldn’t do +it,--Pauline is incapable of a real lie,--but if she did,--I’d love her +exactly the same,--more, if it were possible,--which it isn’t. You see, +Angel, you don’t know from experience what love is. The kind of love I +mean. The love that is only possible between--” + +“Yes, I know,--two souls that beat as one.” + +“No, two souls that know how to beat as one. My boy, all hearts can +love,--but only hearts that have accompanying brains can get the most +and best out of love.” + +“Well, as long as you have faith in her--” + +“Which will be as long as I breathe. Nothing could ever rock my faith +in Pauly. She knows this,--and that is why her disappearance alarms me. +That is why I know it is very serious. She knows I would forgive her +anything--” + +“Even murder?” + +“It’s hard to forgive you that speech, Angel,--but, yes, even murder. +It would be a poor love that wouldn’t forgive crime. That would be +easier to forgive than some other things.” + +“Such as?” + +“Deception,--untruthfulness--” + +“Lying--” + +“Yes,--real lying,--with intent to deceive me. But I would forgive +Pauline that,--anything,--_anything_--” + +“Then she will come back.” + +“No,--she will not come back. She told Tessie to tell me good-by. But I +shall find her.” + +“She might have told Tessie to say that; if she was merely off on a +short errand.” + +“No; she has told me twice,--that if ever she disappeared suddenly, and +sent me the mere message, ‘Good-by,’ that I never should see her again. +I only laughed at the speech,--but I see now that she meant it.” + +“Then she had a secret, Val.” + +“It may be.” Loft looked straight into Angel’s eyes. “Now to find her,” +he said, after a moment’s pause. + +“Where do you think she can be?” + +“I know where she is.” + +“And you can find her?” + +“No; but I know this. She started on the New York train. She got off at +some way station. She crossed the tracks and took a train on the other +side, in the other direction, and after travelling some time she will +get out at some inconspicuous town or village,--where she knows some +friend who will hide her successfully for as long as she wishes to be +hidden.” + +“Good Heavens, then how can you find her?” + +“The hardest situation to solve,--I know that. But she can never be +traced through her bankers or her home people or her lawyers. I am sure +of that.” + +“I didn’t know Pauline was so extraordinarily clever.” + +“It isn’t so much cleverness as common sense. A more ingenious brain +might plan to hide in a big city,--it is conceded the best place. But +it isn’t. Granting a discreet and loving friend, in a secluded country +home, Pauly’s plan is the best. And she has plenty of such friends. But +I shall find her.” + +“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.” + +“But I want to find her. I want Pauline.” + +“Where is her aunt, now?” + +“In the New York house. But she is ill and nervous, and in the care +of nurses. She’ll see no papers,--even if they carry the story,--and +unless I hear from the house, I shall send no message.” + +“Has Pauline no other relatives?” + +“Only some distant cousins. She is her own mistress, and she comes and +goes as she pleases. If Kinney would keep his mouth shut, her absence +from here would never be known.” + +But Kinney didn’t keep his mouth shut. On the contrary, he opened it +very often, indeed. Already he had quizzed the guests and the servants +over the entire house. Already he had telephoned orders to follow +Pauline if she could be discovered anywhere _en route_ to New York. + +Already he had made up his mind that Pauline Fuller had killed Hugh +Curran,--but this decision he had the grace to keep to himself and used +his busy mouth merely for asking questions. + +Miss Hetty Dwyer was greatly excited. + +“Now, perhaps you will do something,” she cried. “I’ve had my +suspicions of that sly Pauline all the way along. Her, with her long, +dark eyes and her thin red lips! I’ve my opinion of her! And her +picture in my brother’s watch all the time! The hussy! I’ll bet she +knew him since he was engaged to Miss Fitzgerald! Made trouble between +’em, like as not! You’ll catch her, won’t you, Mr. Kinney?” + +“I hope so,” he returned. “But I thought you suspected a criminal Book +Collector, Miss Dwyer?” + +“Oh, Lord, I don’t suspect Miss Fuller of killing Hugh! No,--she’s a +sly devil, but not bad enough for that. I can’t conceive of a woman +murderer! But she has some reason for running away that’s connected +with the crime, I’ll bet on that!” + +“Don’t you remember,” Anna said, reminiscently, “almost as soon as +Mr. Curran got here, he asked Pauline to walk in the garden with +him--alone?” + +“What a strange thing to do!” cried Miss Hetty. + +“Not at all,” the Countess defended. “He was a guest, and Pauline was a +charming hostess,--it wasn’t a bit strange.” + +“Well, I’ll tell you what was strange,” said Stella. “Mr. Curran asked +Pauline straight out whether she kept her room tidy or not.” + +“What?” cried Miss Hetty. + +“He did,” Stella persisted, but the Countess said: + +“Hush that, Stella. It was the merest chance question, because he was +laughing about his own untidy ways. And Lord knows he left his own +bedroom in a mess. Papers and ashes and things strewed all over.” + +“I think the queerest thing,” Anna said, “was that when he appeared, +Pauline stared straight at him, and--she was at the coffee urn,--the +cup she was filling overflowed all over the tray. You needn’t tell me +she had never seen him before.” + +“But she hadn’t,” the Countess averred, “she told me so herself.” + +“I’ll tell you what,” and Stella’s eyes beamed with excitement, “likely +as not she corresponded with him without ever having seen him! You know +how girls will write to actors and authors whom they’ve never seen.” + +“Yes,” cried Anna, “and she sent him her picture,--years ago,--and she +didn’t want Val to know about it--” + +Kinney’s eyes shone. He was getting what he called to himself ‘great +dope.’ And if all these things were so,--well,--more might be so-- + +Angel Bob Baldwin favored the detective with an interview later. + +“Don’t think for a minute, Mr. Kinney,” he said, “that I want to put +any brake on the wheels of justice. But I do want you to beware how you +manage that matter of Miss Fuller’s disappearance. You know as well as +I do that she never killed that man. Now, you’re here to discover a +murderer; not to pry into the secrets of a lady’s private life. If you +must interview Miss Fuller, go ahead and do it,--if you can find her. +But as to raising a hue and cry over her absence, you’ve no right to do +it.” + +“Leave it to me, Mr. Baldwin,” said Kinney, airily. “I’ve learned a bit +from the chatter of the women here, and I’ll run this thing in my own +way, if you please.” + +“Do; but for your own sake let it be a common-sense way. You don’t want +to be a laughing stock among your own colleagues, do you?” + +This shaft went home, for more than once Kinney’s mistakes had been a +source of mirth to some. + +“Well, I’ll give you one bit of advice, and you can take it or leave +it.” Bob’s tone was light, but he gave the detective a meaning look. +“When you want to ‘search for the woman,’ don’t go after an innocent +and lovely lady, but find the divorced wife of Hugh Curran. Do you know +anything about her?” + +“No.” + +“Of course you don’t. And she may have had nothing to do with the whole +affair, but if I were a detective, the very first person I should want +to interview would be the one-time Mrs. Hugh Curran.” + +“Mrs. Hugh Dwyer, you mean.” + +“Yes, of course, it would be before he took the later name. Now Mr. +Kinney, take that tip for what it’s worth,--but I can’t help thinking +that she could give you, at least, some information.” + +“It’s a good idea, Mr. Baldwin,” the detective said, slowly. “I’d have +to send a man out to Reno, I suppose--” + +“Well that isn’t at the ends of the earth.” + +“No; he could make it in five days, and wire his report. A week would +cover it.” + +“Don’t do it because I say so. It’s merely a suggestion. You +see, Mr. Kinney, I’m a friend of Mr. Loft’s and I want to do +something,--anything to help him in this horrible situation.” + +“Yes, sir. Mr. Loft has good, staunch friends. Now, you and Mr. Knox +are both racking your brains to help him,--so is Mr. Mears, for that +matter,--but Mr. Mears is more interested in doing detective work +himself than in doing something to help Mr. Loft. You see what I mean, +sir?” + +“I do, Kinney, and perhaps the efforts of Mr. Knox and myself will +amount to more than young Mears’ sleuthing. By the way, what is Mr. +Knox doing?” + +“His idea is to get more clues. As if there were any, after all these +days. But he putters around in Mr. Curran’s bedroom,--I mean the room +he occupied in this house that night.” + +“Does he find anything?” + +“No, sir. He pores over the book catalogues Mr. Curran had, and he +mauls over the waste-basket occasionally. But he’s promised not to +remove or disturb anything. You never can tell when you want to check +up a feather, you know.” + +“A feather?” + +“Yes; ‘feathers left around’ has come to be a by-word with us,--meaning +tiny clues.” + +“Oh, yes, I remember. Well, Kinney, if Knox finds any important +feathers let me know. My deductions are often better than my +discoveries.” + +“All right, Mr. Baldwin. And, I’ll think it over, and like as not I’ll +try out that Reno plan.” + +“Do,” said Angel, little dreaming what that tryout would produce! + + + + + CHAPTER XII + + WITH MARY MALDEN + + +BY noon next day no word had been heard of Pauline. Loft called up her +New York home, and inquired, guardedly, as to conditions there. He +learned that Pauline’s aunt was not well, and was unusually nervous. +But as no definite cause was assigned for the lady’s nervousness and as +no undue curiosity was shown regarding Miss Fuller’s movements, Loft +concluded the quiet household had heard of no cause for alarm. + +Without hope of much information he called up various mutual friends +and also her lawyer, but he could get no hint or trace of what had +become of his lost love. + +Valentine Loft had ample opportunity to pursue his vaunted policy of +“Do nothing and all will be done,” but somehow, in this crisis the +maxim seemed to him to lose its force. + +He remained away from the dining-room, lunching from a tray in the +library, and to him came Stella Lawrence. + +“May I come in, Val, dear?” she said, trailing her scarves through the +half-open door. + +“I suppose so,” he said, wearily; “but don’t chatter about Pauline,--I +can’t stand it.” + +“No, I won’t. What are you going to do about her--about finding her, I +mean?” + +“I’m just going to find her, that’s all. I shall never give up the +search and I must succeed, sooner or later.” + +“Val,--why do you care for her so? If any one I loved ran away from me, +I shouldn’t try to get them back.” + +“Stella, didn’t you hear me ask you not to talk of Pauline?” + +“No, I won’t. Isn’t Miss Dwyer queer, Val?” + +“Yes,--she doesn’t interest me. I’m very sorry for her, but she is a +good deal of a nuisance about.” + +“And she gossips so. What do you suppose she said about Pauly?” + +“I don’t care to hear.” + +“Well, she said that Mr. Curran must have corresponded with Pauline +without knowing her personally,--and she sent him her picture and all +that.” + +“Yes?” + +“Don’t you care, Val? Don’t you care that Pauline knew that man before, +and told you she didn’t? Why, it proves Pauly a naughty fibber--or +should one say fibberess?” + +Stella trailed across to Loft’s chair, and sat on the arm of it. + +“You’d better forget her, Val. I know Pauline,--truly, she isn’t worthy +of you. Why,--listen,--I happen to know that she was in Mr. Curran’s +room that night,--and that she came out of it at half-past two in the +morning.” + +Loft reached forward and pushed a bell button. + +“Go back to your seat, Stella,” he said, “some one is coming.” + +“I don’t care,” and Stella remained on the chair arm. + +Loft rose, and in a moment Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper, appeared. + +“Mrs. Jennings,” Loft said, “Miss Lawrence is leaving on the four +o’clock train. Send Tessie to help her with her packing and instruct +Bates to have the little car ready.” + +“Yes, sir,” and Mrs. Jennings went away. + +“Val! How dare you? Are you driving me away? Me,--Stella?” + +But Valentine Loft apparently neither saw nor heard her. He sat at a +desk and began to write some letters. + +One more glance at his stony profile and Stella Lawrence knew she had +no choice as to her next step. + +She went dejectedly from the room, her anger and indignation lost in a +deeper feeling of shamed regret. + +Meeting Anna in the hall she told her she had had a telegram and had to +run away at once,--to another house party. + +“And I’m glad to get away from this chamber of horrors,” she added. +“Are you staying on?” + +“I don’t know.” Anna looked perplexed. “Now Ned says we’ll go and then +he stays on. We can go if we like--I mean the authorities won’t keep us +now.” + +“Then I should think you’d go,” Stella said, lightly, as she trailed +off to her room to do her packing. + +Valentine Loft sat alone until he heard the car depart with Stella in +it. Then he sent a message to the Countess asking an interview. + +She came to him. + +“We can be alone here,” she said, gently. “You poor boy, I wish I could +help you.” + +“Perhaps you can, Countess,” he returned. “If so, it will be by utter +frankness. Did you see Pauline at all the night Mr. Curran died? I mean +after we had all said good-night.” + +Countess Galaski looked straight at him. + +“You want me to tell you?” + +“I do.” + +“Well, then, Val, it’s hard to say positively, but I did see a woman in +the hall that night,--who looked like Pauline. That’s all I’m prepared +to state.” + +“Please state all you know. It will help me more, Countess, to know the +truth than to have my feelings spared.” + +“Then, Valentine, I can only say that while I am ready to state it +was Pauline,--I would not be willing to swear to it. You see the +difference--? Were it a casual question, I should reply, ‘Yes, it was +Pauline.’ But if it is a weighty question, one on which other issues +hang, I will not say positively.” + +“What made you think it was she?” + +“The hall was dimly lighted, and I saw a vague figure of Pauline’s +height and general effect. She wore a dark gown and a cape that hung in +soft folds. It was such a cape as Pauline possesses, yet that is not +proof positive. Tessie could have worn that.” + +“Tessie is much of Pauline’s figure.” + +“Yes,--but, Val, you asked for the truth,--it wasn’t Tessie. It +was a woman of the world. She carried herself as such. She walked +stealthily,--but steadily,--and she went in at the door of Pauline’s +room.” + +“Having come from Hugh Curran’s room?” + +“That I can’t say. She came from that direction,--and I heard a door +close--that seemed to be his--oh, Valentine, don’t make me tell these +things! What do they mean?” + +“That’s what I must find out, Countess. They mean strange things, I’ve +no doubt,--but they do _not_ mean that Pauline is in any way +implicated in the murder of Hugh Curran.” + +“Oh, of course not--” + +“Don’t say, ‘oh, of course not’!” Loft’s nerves were beginning to give +way. + +“What shall I say?” The Countess looked bewildered. + +“Say you know she couldn’t have been. For you do know it,--no one can +help knowing it. Now I want all the information I can get about these +circumstances, so I can unearth their explanation. Help me, Countess.” + +Beneath her dictatorial manner, Countess Galaski carried a most kind +heart. She looked at Loft compassionately, and her sympathy went out to +him. But her judgment told her that candor was best. + +“Then I will tell you, Valentine, what I had expected to tell no one. +Pauline,--for it was Pauline,--carried in her hand something that +glittered. Something that might have been that watch. Only for an +instant, when a straggling glint of light struck it, did I see it, and +then, clasping the thing in her hand, she went into her own room.” + +Loft, his face stern and set, listened intently. + +“Thank you, Countess,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “for telling +me. My only desire in life is to find Pauline and tell her I love her. +The watch, the picture in it,--even the distressing circumstances +of Hugh Curran’s death, are to me of no consequence compared to the +finding of Pauline.” + +“And you deem her innocent?” + +“Countess, I sent Stella away from the house for an aspersion on +Pauline’s innocence. I do not resent your speech,--only because I know +you deem her innocent yourself.” + +“I do,” she returned, and if she hadn’t before, the implicit confidence +Loft felt swayed her own opinion. + +“There are some things to be explained,” Loft admitted, “but they can +be explained only by Pauline herself. And, so, until I can ask her, I +put them aside. I do not speculate on their meaning.” + +“But, Val, you must remember, there are outsiders who do not feel as +you do about it all. Who are ready to put the worst construction on +Pauline’s flight--” + +“Of course, Countess, dear. Those are the people I have to circumvent, +whose plans I have to frustrate, whose guns I must spike. And I +shall do it,--why, I can do anything to save Pauline’s name from the +slightest stain,--to find again my darling--my love.” + +He almost seemed to forget the Countess’ presence, as his firm, strong +mouth, set in determination and a glow of lovelight came into his fine +eyes. + +“You’re centuries behind your time, Val,” she said, “you belong in the +age of chivalry. You’d tourney to the death for the woman you love.” + +“Any real man would,” he returned, “though perhaps,” he looked a little +whimsical, “he wouldn’t say so much about it.” + +“I’m an old woman, Val, dear,--you may confide your feelings to me as +much as you like.” + +“Oh, I’m not ashamed of my desperate love for Pauly,--but declarations +of it naturally bore others. However, Countess, you’re so delightfully +understanding, that I let myself go. But, now as to this tale of yours? +You know a lot about--things in general,--can you trump up any reason +why Pauly should visit Hugh Curran in his room,--or why she should come +away with his watch?” + +“None, unless,--” she hesitated, “unless she had given him the picture +long ago, in foolish flirtation,--and wanted to get it back,--and did +so.” + +“Not good enough,”--she told me she had never seen him before. I +believe her. My theory is more toward her doing it all for somebody +else. + +“Suppose somebody who had Pauline’s picture--long ago,--gave it to +Curran,--and she thought if I learned of it,--say it was Angel,--or +some equally dear friend, I’d be angry at him--or maybe it was a +woman--” + +“Valentine, you’re drivelling. You can’t even voice the theory you’re +trying to pick out of the air. Now, stop surmising and mulling over +reasons or motives and stick to facts. Where do you think Pauline is?” + +“I think she is staying with some dear and true friend, who lives +somewhere off the beaten paths, and that friend, sworn to secrecy, will +keep Pauly in hiding as long as she wishes to be kept. It’s an easy +guess,--where else could she be?” + +“I daresay you’re right. How long will she stay there?” + +“Until I can get to her,--or get a message to her to come to me.” + +“Would she come?” + +“If she could get the message. You see, she thinks,--bless her +heart,--that I’m upset over the miserable business,--and she must think +that the finding of the watch in her desk has been an unpardonable sin. +Silly darling! As if she could do an unpardonable thing--to me.” + +“Then the question of Pauline’s whereabouts is at a deadlock.” The +Countess spoke seriously. “Do you realize what that means?” + +“Lots of unpleasantness,--I’m sure. But it does not mean that she will +be found--by the authorities, until she gets good and ready. It’ll be +all I can do to find her.” + +He sighed. + +“How are you going to set about it?” + +“Haven’t the slightest idea,--yet. But an inspiration will come to me +before long. You see, she’s not in the vicinity of New York City at +all. She’s up in northern New York or in New England.” + +“Quite an area to search.” + +“Yes,” he said, laconically. + + +And Valentine Loft was right. + +In a tiny, elm-shaded New England village, Pauline Fuller was at that +moment sitting in a wicker chair on the back veranda of a pleasant +country home. And she looked sadly in need of the comfort and +consolation of the knowledge of her lover’s faith in her. + +“And so you see, Mary,” she was saying, “I never want to see Val +again. I couldn’t hope for his forgiveness,--in his eyes it is +crime,--nothing less. No power could make him understand my motive,--or +see it all as I do. Oh, do you suppose they’ll send out detectives +after me,--and all that?” + +“Don’t think about it, Pauline. At least, not now. We’ll have to think +pretty soon,--a lot,--but today, do rest and try to calm your nerves.” + +“I’m not nervous,” Pauline declared, “I’m only wretchedly miserable. +Oh, why did I ever do it? I can’t live--Mary, I can’t _live_ +without Val!” + +“Well, dear, if you get yourself all worked up, you’ll have hysterics +and make a lot of trouble for me. Now, get your cape, we’re going for +a long ride in the country. And during the ride, you’re not to mention +these things. Then we’ll come home, have a nice cosy little dinner, and +after that we’ll sit down and thrash out the whole thing. You haven’t +told me all yet, you know.” + +Mary Malden, an old school friend of Pauline’s mother, was a spinster, +and was of the type known as salt of the earth. She had been the first +one Pauline thought of in her mad flight, and she had done just exactly +what Loft had surmised. She had passed three stations on the road to +New York City, had left the train, turned around and retraced her +path, going on up, in the region of the Berkshire hills, and had found +a welcome in Mary Malden’s heart and home. + +The house was a small one, though comfortable, but the heart was one of +the largest and kindest God ever made. + +At first, Miss Malden would listen to no explanation, no word of +trouble,--she only took Pauline in as a mother would take a long lost +child. + +And now, nearly twenty-four hours of coddling had restored Pauline’s +poise physically,--but her mind and soul were more perturbed than ever, +and she longed for the time when Mary would listen and advise. + +During the drive in Miss Malden’s unpretentious little car, Pauline +tried to respond to her kind friend’s efforts at conversation, but it +was so difficult that her hostess left her to her own thoughts,--and +they were not pleasant ones. + +“Why did I ever do it?” she asked herself over and over,--yet could +find no answer. + +“Lassitude is rather becoming to you, Pauline,” Mary said, at last, in +a vain hope to rouse a fleeting interest in her appearance. + +“Lassitude isn’t the word,” Pauline tried to smile. “I’m anything but +inert. I’ve energy enough--to--to sink a ship.” + +“Use it then to pull yourself together. Look here, honey, if you have a +nervous collapse, or go into a decline,--or have some sort of foolish +psycho-neurasthenia,--or whatever the latest fad is,--I’ll pack you off +to a sanitarium. I can’t have invalids about. People in trouble are my +hobby, but people who are ill give me the creeps.” + +“Not a bad idea, Mary,” Pauline said, “the sanitarium, I mean. Couldn’t +you commit me to some nice one where they keep patients in utter +seclusion? Tell them I’m a little bit irresponsible, you know,--a +trifle unbalanced,--and make them promise to keep it all confidential. +It could be done, I’m sure.” + +“And it will be done, if you don’t brace up and behave yourself! +Moreover, I shan’t stop at a sanitarium, I’ll put you in an out-and-out +lunatic asylum--in a straight-jacket!” + +“I rather wish you would. Say, in solitary confinement,--then the +police couldn’t get at me!” + +“The police! Good heavens, girl, is it as bad as that?” + +“Yes,” Pauline said, slowly, “as bad as that.” + +And when at last they turned homeward, when at last dinner was over and +Pauline had told Mary all, all her pitiful story, Miss Malden agreed it +was as bad as that. + + +At Valhalla, matters seemed to be at a standstill. + +Detective Kinney had taken on a new and somewhat blustering manner. He +dictated to everybody, except to Valentine Loft,--somehow, he couldn’t +quite compass that. + +Angel Bob resented dictation. + +“Make him stop, Val,” he said, after a few days of it; “I won’t be told +what to do and what not to do by a whipper-snapper of a detective that +can’t detect a single thing!” + +“There doesn’t seem to be anything to detect,” Loft said, with an +abstracted air. “Except what has become of Pauly, and I’m going to +detect that myself.” + +“So you’ve said, repeatedly. But she’s been gone five days now, and +you’ve made no headway. Can’t you get busy?” + +“I’ve laid my plans,--they’re being carried out. They may work, +Angel,--and, Lord help me, they may not. If not,--the case is hopeless.” + +“Unless Pauline returns of her own accord.” + +“She never will. Now, Angel, don’t you stay here any longer +than you wish. The police have practically released us all from +surveillance,--that is, all except myself--” + +“You! Since when have you been under suspicion?” + +“Oh, Friend Kinney has trumped up a theory that Pauline stole the watch +because it was evidence of a disgraceful past, and that I killed Curran +because,--oh, I don’t know why,--to wipe out the same past, I suppose.” + +“What rot.” + +“What theory isn’t? Can you suggest, Angel, can you _invent_ a +sound theory of Hugh Curran’s death? Can you imagine a motive that +would fit the case or a method that would fit the facts? The police +have really shelved the thing,--though they don’t say so. Miss Dwyer +wants to go home and I don’t blame her. The Knoxes want to go,--at +least, Anna does. I’m not sure about Ned,--he’s so moody.” + +“I say, Val,” Angel looked thoughtful, “you never suspected Ned,--did +you?” + +“No, I never did. Nor you, nor Roly, nor myself! Perhaps I’m the most +likely suspect of the four, though.” + +“Guess we’ll have to come back to old Meredith.” + +“As likely as anybody, I suppose. But, you didn’t invent a theory.” + +“Tell me how a real live murderer got in and out of a locked room and +I’ll do the rest of the theory,” Angel retorted, and the subject was +dropped. + +A little later, Kinney appeared, bristling with excitement and swelling +with importance. + +“I’ve had a report,--” he began, and paused; “I’d rather make it to you +alone, Mr. Loft.” + +“Oh, go ahead,” Loft returned, with little show of interest. “Mr. +Baldwin is my friend, he may hear whatever you have to tell me.” + +“The report is from Reno,” Kinney said, a little sullenly. “Shall I go +ahead?” + +“From Reno?” Loft cried, startled out of his usual calm by this +unexpected disclosure. + +“Yes, sir,” Kinney said, satisfied now with the sensation he was +creating. “A telegram from the man I sent out there to investigate the +circumstances of Mr. Hugh Dwyer’s divorce--some years ago.” + +“Mr. Dwyer’s divorce,--has it any bearing on the case?” Loft said. + +“I’ll read it to you,--no, you read it yourself.” + +He handed over the yellow paper, and Angel noted that it was a long +telegram, perhaps a night letter. + +Either Valentine Loft read very slowly, or he read the screed several +times, for it seemed to both Kinney and Bob that he would never raise +his eyes from the typewritten lines. + +Watching closely, they saw his eyes return again and again to the top +and travel slowly across the lines to the bottom, only to repeat the +performance. + +“What is it, Val?” Baldwin asked at last, unable to stand it longer. + +Loft raised his eyes then and stared at Bob, unseeing. + +“Tell me, old chap,” Angel persisted, longing to snatch the paper +himself. + +Then the two men saw such an expression of agony in the dark eyes as +neither had ever before seen in mortal man. + +An effort to speak proved futile; Valentine Loft was speechless. + +With a sudden nervous jerk he tore the paper across and across, again +and again, until it was the tiniest scraps. + +“That doesn’t matter,” Kinney said, comfortably, “we can get duplicates +from the office. It’s a report copied from the Reno records of Hugh +Dwyer’s divorce from his wife, nearly six years ago. His wife, whom he +had married about eight months previous, was Miss Pauline Fuller, of +New York City. The same lady we are now trying to locate. I hope we +shall be able to find her,--for more reasons than one.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIII + + HOW LOFT TOOK IT + + +“I HOPE to Heaven you _will_ be able to find her,” said Loft, +agreeing to the detective’s wish, but staring at him still, with that +blank, unseeing gaze. “But just now, Mr. Kinney, I’ll ask you to leave +me to myself for a time. You must realize that your news is a great +surprise to me,--and I may have to--readjust my plans somewhat.” + +“Plan any way you like, Mr. Loft,” Kinney said, almost cheerily, “we +have enough data now to go ahead with.” + +“Hold on,” Angel cried out, “are you sure of this tale you tell, Mr. +Kinney? Don’t let him ‘go ahead,’ Val, until we check up on this thing.” + +“No necessity for that, Mr. Baldwin. The agent we sent to Reno is +a capable and experienced man. He would not send that definite +information unless he was certain it was true. And, you must admit the +circumstances all go to prove it. Here’s the divorced wife of Hugh +Curran--” + +“Mr. Kinney, will you leave this room before I put you out?” Loft’s +face was menacing, his tone was desperate. + +“Why, yes, Mr. Loft, I’ll go. But I’m counting on finding you here +when I want you. Your heroics are well done,--but, I’m not so sure you +didn’t know all this before, and--” + +Loft suddenly jumped from his chair, his eyes blazing, and Kinney, +really frightened at his approach, fled from the room. + +“Angel, what does it mean?” and Valentine Loft looked despairingly at +his friend. + +“I don’t know, Val, but it must be true. As Kinney says, such detailed +and authentic information must be a statement of facts.” + +Loft looked up quickly, sensing a certain lack of sympathy in Baldwin’s +voice. + +“That will do, Angel,” he said, coldly, “and forgive me if I ask you to +leave me alone for a bit. I’ve a lot to think out.” + +Without a word, Baldwin rose, and Loft added: + +“I suppose Kinney will spread the news broadcast. That can’t be helped. +Do all you can for me, Angel.” + +“Sure,” said Bob, and went on out. + +Then Valentine Loft faced the situation. + +At first, his mind refused to work at all. His brain was stunned, +dazed, from the knowledge that had come to him. + +His abhorrence of divorce was so strong,--so deep-seated in his nature, +that the mere idea of connecting it with Pauline was almost impossible. +Pauline,--his Pauly,--a divorced woman! And from Hugh Curran! It was +incredible,--it was almost laughable! There was some mistake, of +course. Another Pauline Fuller,--yes, that must be it. He would prove +it,--he vowed he would prove it. That satisfied, smirking detective +should eat his own words! + +Loft paced up and down the room, his strides increasing in length as +his mind worked itself up into a fury against the man who had dared +pretend that married Pauline Fuller was his Pauly! + +But rushing thoughts surged through his brain. Curiously, one of the +first was the expression on Hugh Curran’s face as he said to Pauline on +that dreadful evening, “Are you, too, untidy about your bureau drawers, +Miss Fuller?” or some such thing as that. Who but a man who had been +a woman’s husband would think of saying such a thing? Her husband! +Pauline’s husband! + +Loft tore up and down the library, his brain seething, his hands +clenched and his face crimson with rushing blood. + +It could not be! His adored, his darling, never could have been the +wife of any man! She was pledged to him,--all her sweet, girlish beauty +was his own,--Curran!--divorced! + +He dropped into a chair, exhausted. Slowly his face paled to a chalky +white as his brain began to realize--to straighten things out, and to +face the appalling truth. + +It must be faced. He must understand that his Pauline had been the wife +of Hugh Curran,--that she had been divorced,--and--that she had kept +these facts from him. + +He knew better than to doubt the truth of it all. He knew there was not +the slightest hope of a mistake,--not the tiniest loophole of escape +from the facts. He knew that he had to meet the situation, grapple it, +wrestle with it,--and throw it,--or, be thrown! + +He faced it. And as his thoughts ran riot, a dozen hints or memories +came to help prove the case. + +That “Rosalie” business. Miss Hetty had said that Curran called his +wife Rosalie or Rosy,--though that was not her name. A nickname or pet +name, then, for Pauline,--perhaps because of the rosy cheeks she had +had then. + +Then! Nowadays, her cheeks were always pale,--so that she indulged in a +touch of rouge, sometimes. + +And that evening, Curran had said: “_Rosalie_,--does that mean +anything to any one here?” + +And Pauline had moved restlessly,--he had seen it. And when Curran came +in that day,--Pauline had let the cup she was filling overflow on the +table. + +Still,--Pauline had told him,--her clear eyes looking into his own, +that she never had seen Hugh Curran before. + +Ah,--his quick wits understood that. She never had. The man she had +known was Hugh Dwyer. Curran was a new name to her. + +Thinking deeply, Loft decided that Pauline did not know who Curran was +until he arrived at the house. + +Few knew the novelist’s real name, and Loft remembered how he had +jestingly described Curran’s appearance in any way but the real one. +Then, too, if Pauly didn’t know that Dwyer had changed his name and +had become an author, of course, she had no reason to suspect that the +invited celebrity would turn out to be her-- + +Every time Loft’s train of thought led him back to the awful +truth,--and every time he was crushed and broken anew. + +It was bad enough that Pauline had been married,--it was worse, in his +eyes, that she had been divorced,--but--she had deceived him about it. + +And, so,--when Curran came that day, she recognized him,--and forgot +what she was pouring--and--oh, yes, he asked her to walk in the +garden--alone with him. Oh, yes,--so he did. + +And he had said “Rosalie,”--playing with her, as a cat with a mouse. + +And he had flashed his watch open, that she might see the picture. And +she did. Oh, yes. + +And then--she had gone to his room,--that night--after two +o’clock--well,--she had a right to--or, didn’t she? + +His brain raced on. She had gone to his room,--to ask for the +picture,--and he--probably refused,--and then--she--his brain +was working automatically now, quite independent of his mind or +heart,--and then she killed him--why, of course Pauly killed him, she +was the one who had advocated poison from the start. + +And then she took the watch and went back to her room and hid the +watch, and that meddling detective had hunted it out! + +Confound him, why couldn’t he leave Pauly alone? + +Quite calm now, Loft went across the room to where a large +silver-framed photograph of Pauline stood on a table. + +He picked it up and gazed at it with a loving reverence. + +“My darling,” he said softly, “my blessed little girl, you are mine, +and I love you--more than ever. Why did you run away from me? Didn’t +you know, dear heart, there is nothing I wouldn’t forgive you? Nothing! +Don’t you know what that means? It means you can deceive me, you can +commit crime, you can do anything,--and you are still my own, my Best +Beloved. + +“That’s what love means, dear. It isn’t love if it dies or even wanes +because of--because of anything at all. Now, Sweetheart, my first task +is to find you,--my next,--to--to take care of you and protect you. + +“Where are you, Pauline? How can I get word to you? I remember how +you looked,--how solemn, yes, sad, the day you told me that when you +sent me just the message, ‘Good-by,’ it would mean good-by forever. +But it doesn’t, Beloved, no, it does not! I know now what was in your +mind,--this horrid old Curran business. But,--oh, my Love, didn’t you +know I would forgive even that? Why didn’t you tell me all about it? It +was my own fault, though. I denounced divorce so strongly, you thought +your own pitiful little story would affect my love for you. Bless your +baby heart! Six years ago you were a mere school girl. You were dragged +into a marriage--well, I won’t try to imagine it. When I get you back +again, you shall tell me all about it while I hold you close and safe +in my arms.” + +Loft laid his cheek against the picture for a moment and then set it +back in place. + +“Now,” he said to himself, sitting down at the desk, “let’s tabulate +our procedures.” + +“First, I must find Pauline before those fool detectives do. Next, I +must get the crowd here in the house all on Pauline’s side,--or they, +especially the women, will do a lot of harm. Next, I must get up some +theory of Curran’s death,--manufacture evidence if need be, to turn +suspicion away from Pauline,--for it’s bound to hit her sooner or +later. Miss Dwyer will be hard to manage, I daresay. Old Angel will +stand by me,--though he seemed pretty well shaken by Kinney’s story--” + +And then Loft’s mind came back with a shock to realities. + +It was all very well for him, while alone, to forgive Pauline, to +rhapsodize over her portrait and to smooth her way by reason of +his unalterable love,--but none of these things would help much in +regard to the fearful publicity and scandal that must follow on the +announcement of Kinney’s report. + +Well, this certainly was no occasion for his motto of “Do nothing and +all will be done!” That principle would not work in this case. He must +plunge in and do it all himself. + +Just what he was to do, he wasn’t quite sure. But he had to trust to +his own wisdom and judgment to meet each phase of the situation as it +presented itself, and, mentally girding his loins for battle, Loft +drew himself up proudly, and went out of the library to join the others. + +He found them grouped on the terrace. + +He was almost amused at the various attitudes with which they greeted +him. + +Anna ran to him and impulsively threw her arms around his neck, crying, +“I’m always your friend, Val, through thick and thin!” + +Even through his preoccupied thoughts there came to Loft a sudden +thought of how prone Anna was to take advantage of a situation which +would give her legitimate excuse to fling her arms around a man’s neck. + +He gently disengaged the lovely arms, saying simply, “Thank you, Anna, +I felt sure I could bank on you,--on you all,” he added, looking around +at them. + +Baldwin nodded, Knox gave an acquiescent smile, while Roly Mears +exclaimed, fervently, “You bet!” + +The Countess said, very gravely, “I am your friend, Valentine,--and +Pauline’s.” + +But Miss Hetty Dwyer was plainly antagonistic. + +“You can hardly expect such protestations from me, Mr. Loft,” she said, +icily. “I am amazed to learn that Miss Fuller is my brother’s divorced +wife,--though I should not be. I should have suspected at once that his +reference to Rosalie was directed at her--” + +“Why should it have been, Miss Dwyer?” Loft asked, quietly. “Why should +your brother want to tease or annoy the woman who had been his wife?” + +“Because she was playing a part! Because she was passing herself off as +a girl, when she was a married woman,--a divorced woman! No discomfort +he could cause her, could deeply hurt such a callous, a perverted +nature--” + +Valentine Loft interrupted her. + +“Miss Dwyer,” he said, “I want to make a statement. Miss Pauline Fuller +is my fiancée, my deeply beloved bride-to-be. Nothing she has done, +nothing she ever may or can do can shake my faith in her or in the +slightest degree lessen my love for her. Now, then: no one under my +roof may make the least unpleasant allusion to her, or say the merest +word of reproach or unkindness. This understood, you are all welcome to +the hospitality of my home as long as you choose to stay here. I shall +be glad of your company, but I will not tolerate a word, a hint or a +look that is unfriendly to Pauline Fuller. Am I clear?” + +“You are, Val, and I heartily stand by you,” declared Knox, and Baldwin +murmured, “Me, too.” + +“But, Valentine,” Roly Mears exclaimed, “we’ve got to look into these +matters. We can’t just sit down and do nothing. And, who knows where +the investigation may lead?” + +Loft smiled a little. + +“Roly,” he said, “I’m not thinking of you. You go ahead with your +‘investigation,’ perhaps you’ll be of real help. Countess, where do you +stand?” + +“At your side, Val. Count on me for love and sympathy with Pauline, and +you must forgive me if I go so far as to say, that I shall love her +just the same through good report and evil report.” + +“Thank you, Countess, I take that exactly as I know you mean it. Now, +we are all in accord,--except, perhaps, Miss Dwyer.” + +“Indeed you may except me,--I have no feelings in accord with those who +would protect the murderess of my brother. I have no sympathy for a +woman who could deceive the man who loved and trusted her, who could +pretend she was an unmarried woman, when--” + +“I don’t think you need go over that again, Miss Dwyer,” Loft spoke +evenly; “will it not do if you merely say you do not care to stay with +us, and make your adieux?” + +“I have no intention of doing anything of the sort, Mr. Loft,” the +spinster retorted. “I am here, and here I stay until the mystery of +my brother’s death is solved. Of course, if you ask me to leave your +house, I shall do so, but I shall stay in the vicinity.” + +“You are welcome to stay in my house, Miss Dwyer, as long as it suits +your convenience, on the sole condition that you speak no word of +unpleasant import concerning Miss Fuller. You may think what you +choose, but I must insist that under my roof no hint of disparagement +of her shall be voiced. I have your promise?” + +“Yes. When I feel that I can no longer hold my tongue, I shall go away.” + +“Very well, then,” and Valentine Loft turned from the lady, as one who +has no further interest. + +There was a somewhat embarrassing silence after that. Every one of his +guests was anxious to talk to Loft alone, but none seemed to care about +joining in a general conversation. + +Moreover, no one knew exactly what to say. + +But Loft gave no opportunity for desultory chatter. + +“You fellows come with me, will you?” he said, and led the way back to +the library. + +Baldwin, Knox and Roly Mears followed him, leaving the women to pursue +their own vocations. + +“Now, here’s the situation,” Loft said, in his most business-like +manner, “Pauline is the divorced wife of Hugh Curran,--or Hugh Dwyer, +as he was then. She has run away because she thinks I would be so +shocked at the knowledge of this that I would care less for her. As a +matter of fact the knowledge in no way affects my attitude toward her, +and, naturally I want her to know that as soon as possible. But, with +all my desire to do so, I cannot find her at once. I hope to do so, +but I know it will be a difficult task. Now, meanwhile, the police, +with their widespread detective facilities, may succeed in finding her +before I can do so. They follow up a disappearance by means of their +scattered agents, and I am alone in my search?” + +“Let me help you, Val,” said Mears, eagerly. “I can trace her--” + +“All right, Roly, go ahead. But your success is, to say the least, +problematical; and I’m alarmed for another reason. To put it plainly, +boys, it is almost inevitable that Pauline should be suspected of +killing Hugh Curran. Kinney is sure of it, and if he can find her she +will be arrested at once. This you can all see is an imminent danger. +It must be averted. So, I propose to give myself up for the murder of +Curran.” + +“You!” Baldwin stared at him. + +“Yes. I say now to you all that I killed Hugh Curran that night.” + +“The only trouble is,” Knox put in, “nobody will believe you.” + +“That’s just it. And that’s where I count on you fellows to help me +out. If I go to the police and give myself up, they will say, ‘No, you +are merely doing that to shield Miss Fuller.’ So, I want one of you to +go to Kinney and tell him convincingly,--convincingly, mind you,--that +you suspect me. You can say my motive was to keep Miss Fuller’s secret +from becoming public property. Or say I killed him in a fit of jealous +rage,--we’ll make up the best and most plausible story we can,--but it +must be a good one. Who’ll do this? You, Angel?” + +“No, Val, I can’t. Don’t ask me to. I’m no good at that wool-pulling +stunt,--I wish I could,--but, oh, hang it all, old man,--I just can’t!” + +Angel’s blue eyes showed deep distress, and his face was drawn with +anxiety and apprehension. He averted his gaze from Loft, and said, +“It’s a fool plan,--you can’t put it over.” + +Roly looked amazed. + +“If you do put it over,” he said, “they’ll take you at your word,--and +hang you!” + +“I doubt it,” Loft returned, “but I’ll take that chance. Will you do it +for me, Ned?” + +“Not without thinking it over first. And, I say, Val, suppose you’re +arrested, and Pauline hears of it,--which, of course, she would, she’ll +come flying back to confess herself,--if she did it.” + +“She never did it,” Loft said, stubbornly. “Get that in your heads, all +of you. But she’s going to be suspected--accused of it,--and I’ve got +to save her! I can’t think of any other way,--so, I _did_ do it.” + +“How’d you work it?” Baldwin asked. “How’d you lock the door after you?” + +“I had a sort of skeleton key, that turns the door key from the other +side.” + +“Can’t be done.” + +“I did it,” and Loft’s calm serenity made it almost seem as if he were +stating a fact instead of playing a rôle. “I’d ask you to do this thing +for me, Roly, but--well, I know you’d muff it. Angel or Ned could pull +it off,--but you couldn’t. You can help, though, corroborate, you know.” + +“Oh, I can’t bring myself to try it on, Val,” Knox looked sorry. +“Really, old man, it wouldn’t carry through.” + +“That’s my business,” and Loft set his lips stubbornly. “Well, if you +won’t, then I shall have to go and give myself up,--but I know it would +be twice as convincing if _you’d_ carry the message to Garcia. I +can vow I did it,--and--well, perhaps I can make it realistic enough to +fool those purblind police. So you all refuse?” + +“I do,” Baldwin said, decidedly. “And I’m against it. You’ll get +nowhere,--and, have you thought of this? When the police hear your +confession, and know,--as they will,--that you’re inventing it to save +Pauline,--they’ll realize your fear of her guilt and they’ll be surer +than ever of it.” + +Loft looked at him contemplatively. + +“You don’t think Pauly did it, Bob?” + +“I do not. But the police will be sure of it if you go in for that fool +quixotic scheme you propose.” + +“I don’t know about that. I’ll mull it over some more and see. Roly, +sometimes you have brilliant ideas,--what do you suggest?” + +“I’ll tell you what I suggest,” and Roly looked very earnest. “I know +you all think I’m awful young and don’t know anything about real +detecting. And I guess you’re right, I don’t. Not in a big thing like +this. But, I’m positively sure that there’s a greater mystery here +than we know about yet. And I know those dunder-headed police will +never find it out. So I propose, Val, that you get Fleming Stone, the +detective.” + +“Never heard of him.” + +“Well, he’s well known among people who have had reason to employ him.” + +“One of those story-book detectives?” Angel asked, with a smile. + +“Well, he’s deductive and all that,--but he’s got a lot of good sound +common sense, too. Anyway, he’ll find Pauline, and he’ll find out the +truth.” + +“Do you want the truth found out, Val?” and Angel looked at Loft +closely. + +“Yes, I do,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “Pauline never killed +that man,--but if she did,--there was good reason,--and she’ll be +exonerated. Mind you, I say she didn’t,--but I also say I’m ready to +face the truth,--and if she did,--she is still my Pauline.” + +“Good for you,” cried Roly, “you’re the real thing, Val. Will you send +for Stone,--or shall I?” + +“You can do it, Roly, if you will. But let me see him first when he +arrives.” + + + + + CHAPTER XIV + + FIBSY MEETS A COUNTESS + + +AS the car rolled smoothly up the long drive through the tree-shaded +lawns of Valhalla, Fleming Stone and his able assistant, young McGuire, +gazed in silent admiration at the beautiful well-kept place. + +“When I have made my world-wide reputation, F. Stone,” the boy said, +“and have solved my last case, I shall retire on my income and live in +just such a place as this.” + +“Last week you planned a castle on the Palisades,--and the month +before, you thought you’d like a California villa.” + +“All off,--this is the sort of thing for an American gentleman,--which +I shall be by then.” + +Stone forbore to smile at the freckled-faced, red-haired lad in the +rôle of a country gentleman, but he gave him a sympathizing look and +said, “I hope you’ll realize some one of your air castles, Fibsy.” + +“Yessir. What do you know about this present disturbance, F. Stone?” he +asked, as they came in sight of the house. + +“Only the main facts. But it’s the always interesting question of the +victim in a locked room----” + +“And a beautiful lady. When I’m in this business for myself, F. S., I +shall take only cases that include the beautiful lady.” + +“But in this case, the lady has disappeared.” + +“That’s the beauty of it. I shall have the pleasure of finding her. +Won’t that be nice?” + +“Very nice, Terence, and I hope you may do so. To me this whole case is +a bit serious.” + +“Then it is to me, too, F. Stone,” and the freckled face at once became +grave. + +Terence McGuire was Irish, and therefore possessed of quick wits and +a warm heart. Both these attributes were dedicated to the service of +Fleming Stone, and as the years went by, Stone depended more and more +on his young assistant, who was rapidly becoming a colleague. + +When taking a case, Stone acquainted himself, if possible, with the +principal facts and conditions, but kept an open mind as to deductions +therefrom, until he could see and hear details on the scene itself. + +The pair were received in the library by Valentine Loft alone. + +“The case is a peculiar one, Mr. Stone,” he opened the subject; “and +I’m not sure you will want to conduct it as I wish. If not, just say +so. I am employing you,--your reports are due to me only. While in no +conflict with the police, at the same time I do not propose to take +them into my confidence unless I choose to do so.” + +“May I anticipate your intentions, Mr. Loft, by asking if yours is not +the attitude of one who wishes my services in so far as they result in +accordance with your desires,--and,--no further?” + +Loft was a little taken aback at this perspicacity, but he said, +frankly, “that is not far from the truth, Mr. Stone. But I hope,--I am +trusting that there will be no conflict between your discoveries and my +inclinations.” + +“Put it more plainly,” Stone said, briefly. + +“Very well. My fiancée, Miss Pauline Fuller, has disappeared. This fact +has caused the police to suspect her of the murder of Mr. Curran. You +know the circumstances of his death?” + +“Yes, in the main. Go on.” + +“Miss Fuller has been proved to be the divorced wife of Mr. Curran, +and, the police assume, she killed him in order to protect her secret, +or because of some unknown reason connected with their married life. +I’m speaking very plainly, for I want to insist that there shall be no +secrets between you and me. Now, here’s my position. If Miss Fuller is +innocent, I want it proved. If she is guilty, I want the fact concealed +and her innocence falsely proved. Do you see?” + +“I see.” + +“This proposal could not be made to a guardian of the law, a dispenser +of justice,--but a detective is not necessarily that. It is not only +to find out the truth that I ask you, it is to prove to the public the +innocence of Miss Fuller, whether she be innocent or not.” + +“Is she innocent?” + +“I believe she is,--but, of course, I should believe that, unless she +herself should tell me the contrary. But do your very best to prove her +innocent, and if you cannot do so, then do your very best to cover her +guilt from the public eyes.” + +“I suppose you know you are asking me to compound a felony.” + +“You are entirely at liberty to refuse to take the case at all.” + +“But I shall take it, Mr. Loft, and I am taking it because I want to +discover the truth for myself. I certainly cannot promise to conceal +the fact, if I find Miss Fuller guilty, but I will agree to tell you +first,--and you may take what steps you choose.” + +“And you?” + +“I shall be guided entirely by circumstances. I bind myself by no +promises,--but I think I shall not disappoint you. There may be other +directions in which I look than toward Miss Fuller. The case seems to +me to present a number of angles.” + +“Is there any one you suspect, Mr. Loft?” + +The question came from Fibsy, who sat, looking earnestly at the master +of the house. + +Loft looked at the lad a little surprised, for he had thought him a +mere clerical assistant of the detective, or, perhaps, errand boy. + +But the clear gaze of the blue eyes held his attention, and Loft +replied, thoughtfully, “No, I can’t say that I have. You see, no one I +know could have any motive,--that I can think of. So, I think--I hope, +the murderer was some one I never heard of. Of course, Curran was a +stranger to us all--except Miss Fuller.” + +The pain that showed in Loft’s eyes was so poignant that Fibsy turned +away his head. The boy was sympathetic to a degree, and he vowed to +himself that he would work hard on the case and do all he could in +Loft’s interests, whatever the result. + +“Well, Mr. Loft,” Stone finally summed up, after some few general +questions, “I will begin my investigations at once. I’ve no wish to +work incognito or to keep my presence here a secret, as I sometimes +have occasion to do. I’d like to mingle with your household, chat with +the guests, interview the servants, discuss matters with the local +police,--if they are willing,--and generally inform myself on the +situation, making what deductions I may as I go along.” + +Stone looked so capable, so efficient, that Loft felt encouraged. + +“Very well, Mr. Stone,” he agreed. “I’ll have you and Mr. McGuire shown +to your rooms, and as soon as you like, we will call a conclave of the +people.” + +“Are all here who were here at the time of Mr. Curran’s death?” + +“No; three have left. But I think you may feel sure they were in no +way connected with the crime.” + +“If it was a crime,” Stone added, “may it not have been an accident?” + +Loft’s face brightened. “We’ve never thought of that,” he cried. “We’ve +discussed suicide and murder, but accident never occurred to us.” + +“Can it,” said Fibsy, seriously. “It couldn’t have been accident. +Where’d the poison come from for accidental use?” + +Loft’s face fell. Already he had come to look on the boy’s opinions +with thoughtful attention. It mattered not to him that McGuire was a +young, half-grown chap, or that his words were not chosen from the most +elegant English. There was something in Fibsy’s face and manner that +appealed to Valentine Loft’s sense of reality, and he readily listened +when the boy talked. And so, his quick turndown of the accident theory +made Loft see at once that it really was untenable. + +Stone and Fibsy were given adjoining rooms, and as they had rather a +long confab as soon as they were alone, it was luncheon time before +they saw Loft again. + +Then introductions were general and the party adjourned to the +dining-room. + +By experience in connection with Stone’s cases, Fibsy had learned the +principles of etiquette, at least, sufficiently to make a presentable +appearance at a well-ordered table. + +He was about to take the chair Loft designated for him, when the +Countess exclaimed: “You funny boy! Come right over here by me. Roly, +you take that other seat.” + +A glance at Stone, who nodded, and then Fibsy obediently went over and +seated himself beside the Countess. + +He was quite alive to the fact that, for the first time in his life +he was seated next a titled person, and he greatly enjoyed it, though +outwardly careless of the honor. + +“Why are you called Fibsy?” the Countess inquired bluntly. + +“Because I tell fibs, madam,” he returned, wondering if he ought to +say, “Your Grace,” and concluding to ask Stone about it later. + +“Indeed! And why do you tell fibs?” + +“Because of necessity, madam; I only tell them when it is best and +wisest to do so.” + +“You seem to be a remarkable child!” + +“Yes, madam,--I am.” + +“And conceited!” + +“No, if you please. The remarkable thing about me is that I have gained +the friendship of Mr. Fleming Stone,--and that I am able to make myself +useful to him.” + +“You are fond of him?” + +“Oh, gee! yes! I beg your pardon, madam, but added to my untruthfulness +I am possessed of a sad addiction to slang phrases.” + +“You are simply delicious!” the Countess exclaimed; “I’ve never met any +one more refreshing!” + +“Pleased to meet you,” said Fibsy, and rolled his blue eyes at her so +comically that she shook with laughter. + +Always quick to discern those who could be of help to him, especially +among the women, Fibsy had picked out the Countess and Anna Knox as +being the most promising. + +Miss Dwyer he shrank from at once. Greatly alive to personalities, +Fibsy had no use for the spinster, he concluded. + +Nor did she seem to have any for him. She glared at him as at an +intruder, and though she didn’t say outright that he had no right to be +at the family table, she hinted as much, and Loft was obliged to resent +it. + +“I reserve the privilege of ordering my household appointments,” he +said, with a frowning glance at her, and she subsided, though not +without a scornful look at Fibsy. + +After luncheon they gathered on the veranda, and Fleming Stone began at +once to ask questions. + +His manner was grave, his speech cultured and refined, and his hearers +were all impressed with the kindness of his demeanor and the gentle +quality of his character. + +Yet as his shrewd eyes roved from one face to another, Fleming Stone +gathered a good deal more than met the ear. + +His inquiries brought out not only the facts as they were known, but +the interpretations the various minds put upon them. + +Miss Dwyer was loquacious; and as she was, in a way, most concerned +with the dead man, Loft let her talk all she chose. + +And it was in her account of the discussion of ways and means of murder +that Stone showed his first decided interest. + +He asked over just which methods were selected by the different men, +and then Miss Dwyer said, spitefully, “and it was Miss Fuller herself +who chose poison as the medium!” + +“That seems to be a point in her favor,” Stone said, thoughtfully. “I +should say if any one of the people who discussed the matter should +turn out to be the murderer, he or she would use a means other than the +one of which they, personally, expressed approval.” + +“Exactly,” agreed Loft, delighted at any hint in favor of Pauline. + +“After methods, let’s consider motives,” Stone went on, suavely, but +with a carefully veiled scrutiny of the faces before him. + +Fibsy, too, under cover of a disinterested nonchalance was taking his +cue from Stone, and watching the countenances of all present. + +“I can’t imagine any motive on the part of any one present,” Loft +declared, “unless it be myself. You might say, that if I knew or +suspected Curran’s previous relationship to--to Miss Fuller, I might +have killed him in a fit of angry passion.” + +“However, we know you didn’t,” Ned Knox said, “so why waste time on +that?” + +“I’m not so sure he didn’t,” Miss Dwyer said, with asperity. “To me +it seems quite possible that Mr. Loft did know about it and perhaps +surprised the pair together in Mr. Curran’s room, and so he killed him.” + +“There seems to have been little or no opportunity for that,” Stone +said. “As I see it, whoever killed Mr. Curran did so in a most clever +and ingenious way. To administer prussic acid, and leave no trace of +the method or manner of its administering, is to my mind the work of a +diabolically clever brain.” + +“Yes, I agree to that,” said Angel, thoughtfully. + +“But,” Stone went on, “I have a belief that the smarter the criminal +the easier he is to catch.” + +“That’s a strange theory,” Knox said, surprised. + +“But true. Your stupid dolt, who kills on an impulse, is often harder +to apprehend than the smart Aleck who takes pains to hide his clues.” + +“And leave no feathers around,” put in Loft. + +And as Stone looked inquiringly, he related the story of the negro and +the stolen chickens. + +Fibsy laughed outright. + +“That’s a good one,” he said. “Feathers left around! And F. Stone +can take those feathers and construct the whole bird,--just like the +Natural History guys do.” + +“Next,” Stone went on, “what about alibis? Don’t think I’m accusing any +member of the household,--but I must check up your whereabouts that +night.” + +He listened to their stories, and summed up thus: + +“Then, Mr. and Mrs. Knox were in separate rooms, with a bathroom and +two closed doors between. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith were in one room. Miss +Lawrence, Miss Fuller and Countess Galaski, each in a room by herself. +Mr. Loft and Mr. Baldwin, in two adjoining rooms, only one of which, +Mr. Loft’s, opened on the hall. And Mr. Mears in a room alone. Now, +as you must see, with the possible exception of Mr. Baldwin and the +Merediths, no one has a real alibi. Any one could have gone into the +hall, into Mr. Curran’s room, and back again, without necessarily +arousing any one else.” + +“Did any one see or hear any such occurrence?” + +“I did,” said the Countess, “and I propose to tell of it, for it will +come out, and I can give the unvarnished truth. Others might exaggerate +or garble it. I saw Miss Fuller come out of Mr. Curran’s room that +night sometime after two o’clock. She carried with her something that +shone and glittered,--and which, I have no doubt, was Mr. Curran’s +watch,--with her picture in it. I am telling this because it seems +to be in Miss Fuller’s favor. She never killed that man! If she had +done so, she would, as Mr. Stone says, have used any means other than +poison. But she didn’t do it, because it is not in Pauline Fuller’s +nature to commit crime. And, too, why should she kill him? She was +divorced from him,--what had she to fear from him?” + +“Countess,” Bob Baldwin said, “you think you are doing a wise thing +to talk like that of Pauline,--but I advise you to stop. We, who know +and love her, feel how impossible it is that she could have committed +crime,--but others,--strangers,--may not judge her so leniently or so +truly.” + +“That’s so, Countess,” Loft said. He had been dumfounded by the +Countess’ speech, and he wished, uneasily, that she would stop talking +like that. + +“Now, don’t be alarmed about Mr. Stone and me making any mistakes in +judging the lady in question,” Fibsy said, suddenly. + +His eyes were shining, and his shock of red hair was rumpled where he +had unconsciously pulled at it, in his deep absorption in the recital +of the Countess. + +“In fact,” Fibsy went on, “I may say, that I noted in Madam Countess’ +story a pretty strong indication that Miss Fuller certainly did +_not_ kill Mr. Curran.” + +“Bless you, boy!” the Countess exclaimed. “I wonder if you mean that.” + +“Yes, I do,” Fibsy declared, “though I may be mistaken. We’re not +infallible,--F. Stone and me.” + +“May I inquire, Mr. Stone,” said Miss Dwyer, acidly, “if that boy is +head of your firm, or if you are?” + +“It isn’t a firm,” Stone returned, a quiet smile on his face. “McGuire +is my valued assistant, that is all. His quick wits and young eyes +sometimes discern things that I myself should not have noticed.” + +“Oh, come now,” and Fibsy looked bashful, “that ain’t quite right. Only +I pick up now and then some feathers left around, that Mr. Stone hasn’t +time to stoop for.” + +“You’re a darling!” the Countess cried, enthusiastically, “and I shall +leave you something in my will.” + +“No time like the present,” murmured Fibsy, with a saucy glance that +delighted the old lady. + +“At any rate, I shall address myself only to you, Mr. Stone,” Miss +Dwyer went on. “Have you any idea, as yet, who killed my brother? Do +you expect to find out? How soon do you expect to do so? Have you made +any real progress during this inquiry you have just been holding? Do +you really think that because these men talked over detective methods +or murder methods with my brother, who was a writer of such stories, +that there is the slightest reason to suspect one of them? Are you +really trying to solve the mystery of my brother’s death,--or, are you +only trying to exonerate from suspicion Miss Pauline Fuller--as she +calls herself?” + +With difficulty Valentine Loft restrained his angry retort to this +harangue, but Stone had already taken the lead. + +“Miss Dwyer,” he said, pleasantly, but with an undertone of sternness, +“I find it difficult to remember all your queries. But I will say that +I am searching for the truth and the truth only. I do not think that +because a man talks over methods of murder he is necessarily himself +a criminal. I have made real progress in my quest during this present +session, and while I have not yet a definite idea of the name of your +brother’s murderer, yet I have made steps toward that, by eliminating +one or two possible suspects. May I ask you in future to ask me +questions in smaller quantities at a time?” + +“You’re a queer detective,” Miss Dwyer vouchsafed. + +“You are,” Little Anna agreed. She had begun to feel less awe of Stone +and her innate desire to receive attention made it impossible to keep +silent longer. “I thought detectives asked a line of questions just as +fast as they could talk.” + +“We do, sometimes,” Stone smiled at her. Few could help smiling at +Little Anna. “But a rightminded detective questions different people +differently. When I tackle the servants of this establishment, I shall +doubtless ask them a line of questions. But among us,--as equally +intelligent people, I prefer to get at what I want by desultory chat. +Besides, it’s pleasanter.” + +“What were those things Mr. Curran said, when he pretended to be mind +reading?” Fibsy asked. “I heard you mention them at luncheon, but +didn’t get them all.” + +“I’ll tell you,” said the Countess, beaming kindly on her new favorite. +“He told me that he could read in my mind that my shoes were too tight. +He was absolutely correct, but as my face was all screwed up with pain, +it didn’t show very desperate clairvoyant powers.” + +“What else?” asked Fibsy, and Stone listened, too. + +“Why, he spoke of _Rosalie_ and asked if it meant anything to +anybody. Of course, we know now, it meant a lot to Pauline,--poor +child. Then, Mr. Curran spoke of a _Mr. S._, who, of course, was +also some man of whom Pauline knew, and whom doubtless, she preferred +not to remember. As I see it now, he was merely baiting Pauline all the +while.” + +“Yes?” said Stone. “Do you know who this _Mr. S._ could have been, +Miss Dwyer?” + +“I do not. I haven’t the slightest idea. I suppose it was some man his +wife had--” + +Stone interrupted her, and went on, placidly: “And, I am told, Mr. +Curran collected old and rare books?” + +“Yes,” Loft replied, for Miss Dwyer was silently sulking. “Mr. Baldwin +here can tell you the details of that matter. He is a connoisseur.” + +“Ah, yes; I collect some myself.” Stone smiled at Angel. “Perhaps we +can do a browse in the Loft library, Mr. Baldwin.” + +“At your service,” said Bob, but he seemed disinterested, as he +oftenest was, when amateurs wanted to consult with him. + +And then in his courteous way, Stone implied the confab was over for +the moment, and he went away to interview the servants. + + + + + CHAPTER XV + + THE NEEDLE AGAIN + + +FLEMING STONE stood on the veranda waiting for the car which was to +take him to see Doctor Gilvray. Fibsy stood beside him, quiet of manner +but with his quick-darting eyes taking in everything about him. + +Roly Mears approached the detective a little diffidently. + +“Mr. Stone,” he said, “would you mind if I went with you to the +doctor’s?” + +“Not at all, Mr. Mears, come along.” + +Greatly pleased at Stone’s affability, and hoping to learn some of his +conclusions, Roly went along. + +“I don’t want to be intrusive,” he said, on the way, “but have you come +to any decisions, Mr. Stone?” + +“A difficult question to answer,” Stone said, smiling. “I’ve come to +several decisions, but to no conclusion.” + +“I don’t know the difference,” Roly said, honestly, his face rather +blank. + +“Well, then, I’ve decided that I must first find out what killed Mr. +Curran. That’s a decision, and I hope it will lead to a conclusion on +that subject.” + +“But, we know it was prussic acid.” + +“Yes, but I mean how administered, in what form and by what method!” + +And then they were at the doctor’s, who received them in his private +office. He looked dubiously at Fibsy, but learning that he belonged +with Stone, he seemed satisfied. + +“Now, Doctor Gilvray,” Stone said, as they discussed the case, “how +many ways are there of administering that particular poison?” + +“It may be swallowed or it may be inserted into the flesh,” the doctor +returned. “In this case we have to assume swallowing, because a +distinct odor was noticed on the dead man’s lips. The absence of any +trace of poison in the stomach, merely proves that there was only a +minute quantity taken.” + +“A minute quantity is enough to produce death?” + +“Oh, yes,--the merest speck.” + +“Instantaneously?” + +“Practically so; an interval of a very few minutes might elapse before +the victim ceased to breathe.” + +“Can you explain the fact that there were traces in the mouth but not +in the stomach,--even granting a minute portion of the acid?” + +“No, Mr. Stone,--not to my own entire satisfaction. I can only say it +was the poison that caused Mr. Curran’s death.” + +“What is its exact action?” + +“It is an active paralyzant and exerts a lethal influence over every +part of the body. The nervous system, heart, respiratory organs, +brain, and all vital parts are killed at once. The victim dies, with a +gasp. For an instant the face is convulsed, the eyes wide open, teeth +clenched,--all these symptoms were present in Mr. Curran’s case.” + +“How are you so certain there was no poison in the stomach?” + +“Because at an autopsy, in such cases, there is a fleeting but +unmistakable odor of bitter almonds when the body is opened. There was +none,--of that I am positive.” + +“Haven’t you omitted the suggestion that the poison might have been +taken by inhalation--of fumes?” + +“It may be so taken, but as there was no evidence of any such +possibility, I elided it.” + +“Yet there was no evidence of the presence of the poison in powder or +in liquid form.” + +“True.” Doctor Gilvray looked so puzzled and distressed that Stone +ceased to question him. The old physician was clearly at his wits’ end +to account for the circumstances of the case. + +“You know,” Roly Mears said, “that night as Ned Knox passed the door +of Mr. Curran’s room, when Angel was in there with him, Ned heard them +saying something about a needle. I’ve thought it might have been a +hypodermic needle,--maybe Curran had suicidal intent and maybe Bob was +trying to dissuade him.” + +Stone looked up quickly. + +“More likely,” he said, “if they really were talking of a hypodermic +needle, or, of poisoning at all, more likely they were still discussing +Curran’s detective stories. We have no suspicions of Mr. Baldwin, +have we? And, too, if he planned to kill Mr. Curran by means of a +hypodermic, he would scarcely be chatting it over with him. Do you +remember what Mr. Knox overheard, exactly?” + +“No,” Roly said, “but it was about the needle. The needle was the point +at issue, of that Knox is certain. I’ve talked to him a lot about it. +He gathered that Curran had the needle himself.” + +“And that Mr. Baldwin wanted it?” + +“I don’t know about that. You see, Ned thought nothing of it, except +that a needle was a queer thing to be discussing so earnestly.” + +“Were the men angry?” + +“Not at all, Knox says. But Curran was talking loudly, and Angel was +not.” + +“Well, I can’t see how Mr. Curran could have been killed by a +hypodermic needle at that early hour, since he was seen alive later, by +Mrs. Knox, by the maid, Tessie, and,--as we are told,--by Miss Fuller. +By that time, Mr. Baldwin was tucked away in Mr. Loft’s bedroom.” + +“Much as I hate to say so, I can’t see any real suspect but Miss +Fuller,” Doctor Gilvray said, and his sad face told how he grieved at +the thought. + +“It looks that way, but I will not believe it,” Mears declared. + +“If it looks that way, we must look that way,” Stone said, gravely. + +“And p’raps,” Fibsy said, “if _we_ look that way, maybe we can +stop _its_ looking that way.” + +“Perhaps,” Stone agreed. “And, now, Doctor Gilvray, it will be +necessary that I shall see the body of Mr. Curran. Can you arrange that +for me?” + +“Yes,--Mr. Stone,--” the doctor hesitated, “if you are sure it is +necessary.” + +“I am sure,” Stone said. “Otherwise, I can never arrive at the truth of +this thing. No disparagement whatever, Doctor, to your report of the +autopsy,--that is clear and correct. But I must examine that body.” + +“Very well,” the doctor replied, and promised to make the desired +arrangements. + +Returning to Valhalla, Fleming Stone asked for an interview with Loft, +in which he inquired very definitely concerning the knowledge and the +discoveries Loft might have made of Miss Fuller’s present abiding place. + +“I have no knowledge whatever,” Loft said, dismally. “I am utterly at a +loss to imagine where she is, but, knowing her as I do, I am sure she +is safely hidden from detectives or from myself.” + +“It’s not easy to hide so completely,” Stone said. + +“No; but it’s possible,” Loft returned. “You must know, yourself, +Mr. Stone, that a man mightn’t do it, but a woman can retire to some +inconspicuous spot, and remain there undiscovered for a long time.” + +“That’s true,” Stone said; “but how does Miss Fuller get money,--how +get in touch with her aunt, if necessary,--in a word, how does she +communicate with the outside world?” + +“She doesn’t,” Loft replied, gloomily. “You see, Miss Fuller has a +wide circle of devoted friends. I could name half a dozen who would +willingly, gladly give her sanctuary, no matter what she may have +done. These friends would be wise enough and clever enough to keep +her presence safely hidden from any prying detectives or inquisitors. +It would not be so difficult. Imagine a large country house, with +lots of guests coming and going,--or, better, imagine a small country +home, on the outskirts, say, of some tiny village, or farther out in +the country. Granted a determined hostess, Miss Fuller could be an +unsuspected guest, indefinitely. At any rate, Mr. Stone, I am positive +that is where Miss Fuller is,--at some such place.” + +“You’ve tried to communicate with her?” + +“I have sent letters to her in care of five such homes as I’ve just +mentioned, but they were all returned with the statement that she was +not there. But that doesn’t shake my belief. Either the people were +untruthful, out of loyalty to her, or she is at some other place.” + +Fibsy looked deeply thoughtful. + +“Do you think she may be in some farmhouse, or some small house in the +country, Mr. Loft?” he asked earnestly. + +“It may well be,” Loft replied. “That’s where I picture her. But I +shall write no more letters, she will not let them be answered.” + +“And you can get no information from Miss Fuller’s home in New York?” +Stone asked. + +“No. You see, Miss Fuller is very much alone in the world. Her aunt +who lives with her in her city home, is a nervous invalid, and pays +no attention to her niece’s comings or goings. I have learned that +she thinks Miss Fuller is still here, and I have not undeceived her. +I have found out, too, that Miss Fuller’s lawyer does not know where +she is,--that is, he says he doesn’t,--and her bankers profess the +same ignorance. Now, it’s quite possible that these people do know, +but deny the knowledge, holding it as a business secret. At any rate, +I cannot find out. You see, Miss Fuller can get money from her friends +without trouble.” + +“As you put it, the whole affair is plausible enough from the very fact +that it is so casual,” Stone said, after a moment’s thought. “True, +a man,--especially a business man,--would find it difficult to drop +out of existence, but a woman,--and a desperate woman, can do many +seemingly impossible things.” + +“Say, Mr. Loft,” Fibsy put in, “you think maybe Miss Fuller is at a +farmhouse,--where?” + +“Probably up in Connecticut,--or Massachusetts. She has many friends +in all parts of the Berkshire regions. Also in New Jersey. And in the +Southern States,--but I think she is not very far away.” + +“You’re basing your assumptions on your intimate knowledge of Miss +Fuller’s mind?” Stone asked. + +“Exactly that,” Loft replied. “I know her indomitable will, I know that +she has disappeared without a word; she proposes to stay hidden, but I +also know, Mr. Stone, that she never killed that man!” + +“I wish your conviction were positive proof,” Stone said, gravely. + +“I wish so, too,” Loft agreed. “But I can’t expect those who do not +know Miss Fuller as I do, to realize the depths of her nature. I +appreciate, Mr. Stone, as you cannot, the motives that led to her +deception of myself. It was, primarily my own fault. I had no right +to be so arbitrary in my denunciation of divorce. It was, I see now, +merely a whim of mine, and had I not given way to it, Pauline might +have confessed all to me. I am thus frank with you, because I want you +to understand the situation perfectly.” + +“I think I do, Mr. Loft,” Stone spoke sympathetically. + +“I know I do,” Fibsy said, eagerly,--“and what’s more, Mr. Loft, I have +a notion I can find Miss Fuller for you.” + +“Good boy!” Loft said, in a kindly way, but in a tone which showed +clearly he had small hope of Fibsy’s making good his promise. + +But the boy wagged his head sagaciously, and Stone could see that some +ingenious scheme had sprouted in his fertile brain. + +“What’s the big idea, Fibs?” he asked, when the two were later alone in +Stone’s room. + +“I haven’t quite doped it out yet, Mr. Stone,” and Fibsy’s blue eyes +looked deep with anxiety. “But I have a glimmering of a notion--aw, +shucks,--wait till I give it another think, then I’ll tell you.” + +“All right, McGuire. Now, how about giving Mr. Curran’s room a sweeping +glance?” + +“Let’s,” and the boy jumped up readily. + +So to the locked room the two went, and Stone producing the key Loft +had given him, they went in and locked the door behind them. + +“Very few feathers left around,” Stone said, somewhat chagrined at the +slight effect of personal occupancy the room presented. + +“Mr. Loft said nothing has been touched,” Fibsy reminded him. “Surely +you can find something indicative, F. S.” + +“Let’s hope so.” + +Stone scanned in turn each article of furniture, the walls, the floor, +the window sills and door frames. + +“Not much,” he concluded. “How about the waste-basket,--turn it out, +Fibs.” + +On an outspread newspaper, Fibsy emptied the basket. + +Attentively the detective scanned the motley array of rubbish. + +“Most wastebaskets speak louder than this one,” he said, grimly. “Can +you hear anything, Fibs?” + +“Nope,” and the boy looked hopelessly at some torn papers, some bits of +string, some lead pencil shavings, an empty cigarette box, an empty box +that had evidently held digestive tablets, a wooden toothpick, a quill +toothpick, a torn toothpick paper, a few burnt matches, and an old +envelope or two. + +Nearly all these things were duplicated on the floor of the room, +proving a most careless occupant, and also proving, that as Loft had +said, nothing had been disturbed. + +“That medicine box might have held the poison,” Fibsy said, +half-heartedly, “but it doesn’t look that way to me.” + +“No;” and Stone smelled of the pasteboard carton. “I doubt it.” + +But he picked out two or three of the articles from the waste-basket +rubbish and put them in his note-book for future study. + +“You see, the windows are fastened securely, with six-inch openings for +ventilation,” Fibsy remarked, and Stone said, “Yes,” disinterestedly. + +“And, I say, F. Stone, this door, if locked, never could be opened from +the outside,--you can see that.” + +“Yes, I see that.” + +“Then how in the name of Emile Gaboriau did the murderer get in and +out?” + +“Be more meticulous, Terence. You mean how did he get out? He could get +in easily enough.” + +“Curran let him in?” + +“Surely.” + +“And then he accomplished his fell purpose?” + +“He did.” + +“And then, how did he get out?” + +“Curran let him out.” + +“While he was dead?” + +“No,--alive.” + +“But, the doctor said his death was instantaneous.” + +“Yes,--oh, hush up, Fibsy! This is a wonderful case! But I can’t be +certain about it until I have seen the body of Hugh Curran.” + +“Say, F. Stone, it wasn’t the Pauline lady,--was it?” + +“It may have been,--so far we’ve found no one else with a motive.” + +“Oh,--I can’t believe it--that lovely lady!” + +“McGuire, you’ll never make a detective unless you are willing to seek +the woman. If you start out on the premise of a man miscreant always, +you’ll get nowhere,--you’ll get sadly left.” + +“Well,--I’m starting out this trip with the premise that Miss Fuller is +as innocent as they make ’em, and therefore I’m going to produce her +and let her state her innocence for herself. She can put up the goods.” + +“Just how are you going to find her, Fibs?” + +And then, in a few words, McGuire detailed his plan. + +“Good enough in theory,” was Stone’s comment, “but extremely dubious in +practice. However, go ahead,--if Loft agrees.” + +And then Stone was called downstairs to meet Detective Kinney who +greatly desired to see him. + +Fibsy went along, his head full of his own scheme of things. + +So engrossed was he in his plans, that he paid little attention to the +conversation between Stone and the local detective. + +When at last he listened in, as he would have called it, Kinney was +saying: + +“Yes, sir, we have followed up many clues, which though promising at +first, led nowhere. But--” + +“I’ll finish for you,” said Fibsy, saucily, “but you feel sure now, you +are working in the right direction and will soon be in full possession +of the facts. You are not at present ready to announce your decision, +but expect soon to make public some interesting disclosures.” + +Kinney was furious, as this was just about what he had meant to say. He +gave Fibsy a withering glance, which that young hopeful received with a +knowing wink. + +“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Kinney,” he said, “you’re pretty sure, aren’t +you, that Miss Fuller is concerned in this matter--this crime, I mean.” + +“I am sure of that!” Kinney exclaimed, “and if I could get hold of +her--” + +“I’m going to find her,” McGuire said, calmly, “and then she and I +will prove to you that she is utterly and entirely innocent.” + +“Ah, and who is the guilty person, may I ask?” + +“You may ask and you may answer. I’m sure I don’t know.” + +“Behave yourself, Terence,” Stone admonished him, and seeing no chance +of more fun at the expense of Detective Kinney, Fibsy wandered away. + +He went in search of Tessie, with whom he had already made friends. + +“Tell me something, sweetie,” he said, with a cherubic smile, “tell +your little Fibsy something, will you?” + +“Go along with you,--you, and your foolishness,” and Tessie +involuntarily smiled back at the impudent chap. + +“No, seriously, now. Tell me what sort of clothes and things Miss +Fuller took when she went away that day.” + +“Why, she took no clothes at all,--no dresses or hats. I mean she took +what we call an overnight bag,--only her night things, and brushes and +such.” + +“Yes,--but I mean did she take her best night things,--as if she was +going to a swell party?” + +“Why--let me see. No, as I remember, she took rather her plainer +things,--no boudoir cap and only a simple kimono,--no fancy negglegy.” + +“Yes,” and the red head nodded with satisfaction. “Say, like she was +going to see some friend who wasn’t one of the tip-top upper crust?” + +“Well, yes, you might put it so.” + +“And, say, Tessie,--oh, now do try! Can’t you think of something she +said that would give the leastest, tiniest hint of where she was going?” + +“No, I can’t,” but urged by the earnestness of her interlocutor, Tessie +thought hard. + +Finally she said, “There’s just one thing; in the car, on the way to +the station, I caught sight of a New York Central time table in Miss +Fuller’s bag--the Harlem Division--” + +“Oh, you duck! you daisy!” and Fibsy grabbed the girl in his arms, and +made her dance a two-step while he whistled a lively tune. + +“Behave yourself, you young rascal,” Tessie cried, as she shook him +off. “I’ll not stand for such goings on!” + +“You needn’t,” he cried, “I’m going off--way off!” + +He ran away and presented himself at the door of the library, where +Loft still sat at his desk. + +“Mr. Loft,” he said, respectfully, “may I have a talk with you?” + +“Come in,” Loft said, his attention arrested by something in Fibsy’s +tone. + +“I think I may be able to locate Miss Fuller, sir,” he said, a little +embarrassed as he felt Loft’s grave gaze fixed on his face. + +“Just how?” and Loft spoke kindly. + +“I’d rather not tell you,” Fibsy replied. “I know that sounds queer, +sir, but Mr. Stone, he knows, and he can tell you if he chooses. But it +would sound to you like a wild goose chase,--and yet,--Mr. Loft,--wild +geese have been caught.” + +Fibsy did not smile, and his look was so beseeching Loft listened with +interest. + +“Yes, McGuire, they have. Well, what can I do in the matter?” + +“Just this, sir. Will you give me some message, which, if Miss Fuller +hears it, she’ll know that you want her to come back. I mean some sort +of blind message,--that only she will understand,--but that she can +make no mistake about.” + +“H’m,--I see. Well, tell her--tell her--there’s a Valentine waiting for +Pauline. How’s that?” + +“Fine! Splendid. Now, is there any other word,--any phrase that is sort +of a by-word--sort of a secret between you two?” + +“Why, yes, we had many of them. Tell her, for instance: ‘The Portuguese +are the people!’ She’d understand _that_ was a message from me.” + +“Very well, sir,” Fibsy jotted the lines down in his note-book with +painstaking care. “Now, will you give me five hundred dollars to spend +on this thing? It’s a lot of money, but I feel sure it will give you +back your lady.” + +“You are a most extraordinary youth!” Loft said, “but I’ll chance it. +Here is your money. Where are you going?” + +“To Springfield, Mass.,” said Fibsy. + + + + + CHAPTER XVI + + CURRAN’S CRUELTY + + +PAULINE FULLER was both listless and restless. The quiet, secluded +home of Mary Malden was sanctuary indeed, and Pauline ran little or no +chance of being discovered there. + +But now that she had had time to think matters over, she was not quite +sure she had been wise in coming. She had told kind-hearted Mary her +whole story, and Mary had sympathized and had coddled her and petted +her, all of which was balm to Pauline’s tortured heart. + +Now three or four days had passed and the monotony of the place, though +restful and soothing, had begun to get on her nerves. + +She wondered what Val was doing. What he was thinking of her. How +matters were progressing at Valhalla. + +“Do you know,” she said to Mary, “sometimes I feel as if I must rush +right back there,--I’m so anxious about Val.” + +“Better stay where you are,” said the practical Mary. “From what you’ve +told me of his ideas about divorce, I should think you’d never dare see +him again.” + +“Perhaps he’d forgive it all,” said Pauline, hopefully. + +“Perhaps he wouldn’t,” returned Mary. “No, my child, you did the most +scandalous thing I ever heard of,--to pass yourself off as a girl, when +you were a married and divorced woman. I wouldn’t have believed it of +you, Polly.” + +“I know it was dreadful, but oh, Mary,--I was so young, and I was urged +into that marriage against my will. Almost nobody knew anything about +it. I was out in California two years, you see, and the whole courtship, +engagement, marriage and divorce all occurred within the first year. +So, when I did come back to New York, I tried to forget it,--I told no +one, not even Auntie,--she would have been so upset. And, you see, the +courts gave me back my maiden name,--so I just put that whole year out +of my mind,--and strove to forget it. And I did forget it, practically. +I know it was wrong to deceive Val, but--he is so dear,--and he is +so terribly opposed to divorce. I meant to tell him before we were +married, though,--” she broke off, and bowing her head in her hands, +she wept silently. + +“There, there, dearie,” said the kindly Mary, “never mind +now, we’ll think out what’s best to do. But don’t go back to +Valhalla,--you’d--you’d be arrested for--for--you know--” + +“For the murder of Hugh Curran? But I didn’t kill him, Mary.” + +“Thank Heaven for that! Do you know, Polly, this is the first time +you’ve said that definitely. Can I believe you, dear?” + +“Oh, yes, indeed you can. No, Mary, I was in his room that night, I did +take the watch, but I didn’t poison him.” + +“Tell me about it.” + +“I can’t, dear,--the mere thought of it all upsets me so. Just think, +I hadn’t thought of that man for nearly six years,--I mean, thought +of him coherently. If ever a suggestion of him came in my mind I +resolutely put it away from me. You know, I had no idea that Hugh +Curran was Hugh Dwyer.” + +“You hadn’t?” + +“Oh, no, indeed. I had never heard from or of Hugh Dwyer since I left +him at the time of the divorce--” + +“Was he very dreadful to you, dear?” + +“Awful! Horrible! Don’t ask me about that! The divorce was granted at +once,--an absolute decree and all that. Mary, _don’t_!” + +“No, I’ll never mention it again. Go on, about this later time.” + +“Well, I heard them talking about this author of detective stories,--I +never read them myself,--and I heard them say that Hugh Curran had +been a Moving Picture actor. But it all meant nothing to me. I never +connected that name with the name of Hugh Dwyer,--why should I?” + +“Of course not, dearie. And then, Val invited him to the house?” + +“Yes,--and it happened that when somebody asked Val what the man looked +like, just out of foolishness, Val described him as quite different +from the truth.” + +“Why did he do that?” + +“No reason but as a bit of fooling. Anyway, that made me think of +the coming guest as a total stranger, of course, and, Mary, when +he came,--and I saw him,--I almost fainted. Truly I did. I was +pouring coffee, and let the cup overflow while I struggled to keep my +composure. I think I only did keep up because I knew Hugh’s eye was on +me, and he would be rejoiced to see me collapse.” + +“What a fiend he was!” + +“Oh, yes, all of that. He had a diabolical way of tormenting any one, +under cover of utmost friendliness. So, first of all, he asked me to +walk in the garden with him,--alone. I shouldn’t have gone, but anyway, +Val forbade it, and Hugh subsided. Then later, he took a fiendish +delight in flinging out allusions that only I could understand. Why, he +even asked me straight out if I kept my bureau drawers in order,--that +had been a source of disagreement between us when we lived together. He +was a most untidy sort of person,--I mean about keeping things in their +places. And then,--when I wouldn’t seem to notice anything he said of +that sort, he asked if the name ‘Rosalie’ meant anything to anybody +present! He thought I’d betray myself then, but I didn’t. Rosalie or +Rosy is what he always called me because of my pink cheeks--which I +always had then.” + +“And which you’ve never had since, you poor darling. Pauline, how you +have suffered! Surely you’ve atoned for anything you have ever done.” + +“Oh, I hope so,--but Mary, I haven’t done anything wrong--except to +keep from Val the knowledge of my former marriage,--and I did that more +for his sake than for my own. Truly I did.” + +“It was wrong, Pauline,--very wrong. But, go on, tell me the rest of +your story.” + +“Then, he flashed his watch open once or twice, in such a way that I +couldn’t help seeing that my picture was in it. He used to have it +there,--I don’t know whether he carried it all these years or not. +And,--Mary, the worst of all, was the look of admiration he gave me +every chance he could get to do so, unobserved. I could have stood +better his hate, his fury, his revenge, even, than those glances of +admiration and apparent affection. As we said good-night, he managed to +whisper to me, ‘Come to my room at two o’clock.’ Mary, I didn’t dare +disobey,--and, too, I felt I had to see him alone,--and learn what +his intentions were. If he meant to expose me, I wanted it done all +at once,--not by that slow torture. If I could persuade him to keep +my secret, I meant to do so. Anyway my relations to Val, my hope of +happiness with him, all depended on that man’s attitude in the matter. +So,--I went to his room--at two o’clock.” + +“I don’t blame you, dear. You had to do it.” + +“Yes, I had to. And Mary, the whole trouble was that he had become +infatuated with me all over again! He was engaged to another girl, but +he told me he didn’t love her,--and he did love me,--and he begged me +to come back to him,--said I had grown more beautiful, more dear and +sweet, and he wanted me. He said, if he couldn’t have me,--no one else +should. He said he would tell Val the whole story, and as he well knew +Val’s feelings about divorce, he knew--and I knew,--that would break +off our engagement. + +“He upbraided me fearfully for deceiving Val,--called me terrible +names, and then he would change to a wheedling love-making on his own +account. Finally, he threatened that unless I would promise to break +with Val and remarry him, he would not only tell the whole story of +our marriage, but would compromise me by saying I had come to his room +that night without invitation. Oh, he was a devil incarnate. And all +the time, suave and urbane as if he were proposing some casual plan. +Then he would suddenly break into protestations of passion and love for +me,--all of which I knew by heart, and they brought back the old days +that I have tried so hard to forget. Mary,--I was ready to kill either +him or myself,--and I didn’t care much which.” + +“You didn’t do either?” + +“I see you can’t believe me,--and I don’t wonder,--now that you know +what happened. No, I didn’t kill him,--though I confess there was +murder in my heart. And if I had had a weapon, I could have easily +brought myself to do it--oh, no, I don’t think I could, either. I’ve +crime enough on my shoulders, without adding murder to it.” + +“No, Polly, if you didn’t kill him, you’ve no crime to regret. Your +deception of Val is wrong,--very wrong,--but not a crime. But Val knows +the truth of that, now,--and Pauline, don’t you suppose Val thinks you +killed Curran?” + +“Maybe he does,--but, Mary, how could I kill him? What with?” + +“Why, with the poison,--your choice of a method, as you’ve told me +yourself.” + +“But I didn’t,” Pauline reiterated. “I became frightened at his wild +protestations of love and passion, and I simply ran out of the room. +I felt sure that for all his threats he wouldn’t follow me, and so, I +grabbed his watch as I fled, with a half-conscious idea of destroying +that picture. But when I reached my room, I was trembling so, and +so faint from nervous reaction, I hid the watch and fell on the bed +where I lay for hours just as I was. It was daybreak before I got up +and undressed and really went to bed. Then, Mary,--then imagine next +morning, learning that Hugh Dwyer was dead!” + +“You were glad?” + +“Glad faintly expresses it! I was freed from a dreadful danger, saved +from an awful fate. I was so glad I could have sung for very joy. I +daresay it was a sort of nervous hysteria, but it was all I could do to +preserve a decent calm. I tried not to lie to Val. He asked me straight +out if I had ever seen Hugh Curran before he came to the house. And I +said ‘No,’ for surely I had never met Hugh Curran before. Hugh Dwyer +was my persecutor. And, now, as you say, Mary, Val knows my story, and +others know it. I heard enough to know they were going to send a man +to Reno to learn the details of Dwyer’s marriage and divorce, and the +name of his wife. I knew, too, that that Detective Kinney had found the +watch in my room,--with my picture in it--oh, Mary, I couldn’t face +Val! Now, I almost wish I had,--maybe he would have stood by me,--maybe +I could have convinced him that I didn’t kill Curran.” + +“Who do you suppose did, Pauline?” + +“I can’t imagine,--nor can I see how it was done. I’ve thought over +it so much. How could any one have poisoned that man after I left his +room?” + +“How long after?” + +“A couple of hours, I should judge. The doctors calculated that he +died between four and five o’clock in the morning. I should think it +a suicide, but that I know he was too eager to live to--to punish +me,--or,--to marry me again. Nor can I think of any one who had any +motive to kill him. I feel sure now, it must have been some intruder +from outside,--maybe through the window,--though they say that was +impossible. Oh, dear, I wish you’d believe, Mary, that I didn’t kill +him.” + +“I do believe it, Pauline,--at least, I’m trying to believe it. But if +you had done it, I’d think you were justified,--” + +“No, not justified. You may say you could understand my doing it,--as +I confess I had the will to do it--oh, Mary, does that make me a +murderess? Am I all bad?” + +“No, no, dearie, there, there, don’t cry so.... You’re just a normal, +true woman,--you love Val, and all these feelings toward that brute +who ruined your life are only natural. How did you come to marry him, +Pauline?” + +“Oh, I was very young,--only seventeen, but younger even than that in +my innocence and ignorance. He was a handsome, beguiling chap, and one +night he made desperate love to me, and urged me to elope with him. I +thought it all very romantic, and I thought I loved him,--and I went. + +“We were married at once, by some clergyman friend of his, and all of +the honeymoon he was angelic. But soon after, he began to be careless +and worthless, and from that on, as I soon found I didn’t really love +him, he became cruel, brutal and unbearable. I went to stay with a +friend, a nice elderly lady, and she advised me to get a divorce at +once. She helped me put it through, and inside of eight months I had +been wooed, wedded and divorced. Oh, but I was glad to be free again. +Then when I returned to New York, a year later, I kept it a secret, +to save myself the gossip that it would have caused. And when I met +Val,--and when we came to love each other,--I should have told him all, +but for his strange, almost insane hatred of divorce. I meant to tell +him, even then, but I’ve put it off because I couldn’t bear to hurt +him. And, I’ve worried myself sick over the question of whether to tell +him at all or not. One day I would decide to make a clean breast of it +all, and then he’d say something about divorce, and I’d find myself +utterly unable to open the subject. But I never should have married him +without telling.” + +“Well, Pauline, I’m your friend, whatever happens. I’m ready to believe +you didn’t kill that man, but I couldn’t blame anybody who thinks you +did. And, I may as well say that I think if you had killed him, you’d +deny it just as you have done.” + +Pauline smiled. She felt such a relief at having unburdened her, whole +heart to her friend, that she was able to see the absurdity of Mary’s +attitude. + +Yet was it so absurd? Could friendship go further than to pledge +continued friendship even in the face of such uncertainty as was surely +in Mary’s mind? + +Pauline appreciated this, and flung her arms round Mary while she +thanked her for her goodness and love. + +“And now,” Mary said, with her usual good sense, “put it all out of +your mind for the moment. Go and lie in the hammock and read a foolish +novel or go out and pick flowers or get out some sewing,--no, don’t do +anything conducive to thought. Go and listen in on the radio.” + +“I hate those radio things,” Pauline said, laughing. “To me, they’re +the monotonous lingo of a metal mind.” + +“Oh, come, now, some of it is real interesting,--and instructive, too. +Go and try it, anyway.” + +Pauline drifted about, lounged in the hammock, picked some flowers, and +honestly endeavored to put her troubles away from her for a time. + +“I’m going to the village, in the Ford,” Mary said, later. “Want to go?” + +“No,” said Pauline, promptly, “somebody might see me.” + +“Fiddlesticks! You can’t live all your life shut up on this farm. Well, +all right, but you’ve got to go with me tomorrow, or soon.” + +“Very well, we’ll see,” and Pauline waved a good-by after the departing +car, and returned to her listless idleness. + +At last, in sheer desperation, she turned to the radio outfit, and took +up the receivers. + +As she had anticipated, she was bored by a soprano solo by a +high-strung young girl, and an accordion obbligato by a clever young +man. + +She was about to disconnect, when she heard the announcement of a +lecture on “European Countries Little Known.” The day’s subject turned +out to be Portugal. Slightly interested, she listened to the lecturer’s +trite and ready-made phrases. And then, he said, in especially clear +accents, “The Portuguese are the people!” + +Pauline smiled to herself, for that was a phrase she and Val had often +used, and to them it meant an appreciation of certain “Sonnets from the +Portuguese,” with which Elizabeth Barrett Browning charmed all lovers. + +The lecture proceeded, and three times the speaker repeated the short +phrase, “The Portuguese are the people.” + +Pauline pondered long, after the lecture was over. + +Could it be a sort of an omen,--a hint from Fate that Valentine was +thinking of her,--perhaps still loving her? + +And then, realizing the absurdity of her own thoughts, she put it +from her mind. She had no leanings toward the occult, or even toward +telepathy or thought transference. And, too, as she said to herself, it +wasn’t Val who was doing the lecturing. + +But the result of the episode was that Pauline spent many hours at +the radio apparatus the next few days. She let herself be bored by +the lectures on science, by the children’s stories, by the far from +first-class music, and by the rehash of current events. She listened +even to the talk on home-making and culinary doings, hoping against +hope that something would again remind her of Valentine. + +At last she was rewarded. On the second day of her radio interest, +there was a talk by one of New York’s most celebrated detectives. Among +other things he spoke of the work of the Bureau of Missing Persons. +And, she could scarcely believe her ears, but she certainly heard him +say, “For example, if an advertisement were worded, ‘Pearline, come +back and all will be forgiven,’ it might not succeed in its purpose. +But if it said, ‘Pearline, come back, I love you,’ then maybe she would +come.” + +The lecture, though of serious intent, was in a popular style, and +Pauline gasped. + +For Pearline was a foolish nickname that Val used in his gayest +moments. It had seemed to him a great joke to call the dignified and +beautiful Pauline by the silly name. + +And as she continued to listen, the lecturer referred again to the +supposed advertisement and repeated the whole idea. + +Pauline waited till the lecture was over and then went away to her own +room to think it out. + +She knew little of the way in which radio stuff was “broadcasted,” +but she felt almost certain that that bit in an otherwise impersonal +lecture couldn’t be mere chance. + +If Val had wanted to send her a message, what could he have said more +perfect, more poignant, than “Come back,--I love you.” + +How it was done, she didn’t know,--but her heart claimed the message, +even though her mind refused to believe it was from Valentine Loft. + +Though tempted to tell Mary about it, she couldn’t bring herself to +do so, but she continued to haunt the radio at every number of its +programmes. + +“Well, for any one who scorned that thing, you’ve certainly become +addicted to it,” Mary said, as Pauline refused to leave the instrument +to go for a short drive. + +“I’ve learned to like it,” Pauline said, and waved Mary to silence. + +Yet only once again did she get anything from it that might have been +meant for her. + +It was twilight, their early supper was over, for Pauline had insisted +that Mary retain her simple ways of living, and though her hostess +called to her from the veranda, Pauline replied that she would come out +as soon as she had heard the evening concert. + +And after two or three uninteresting numbers, a fairly good baritone +voice sang a ballad with a simple air, the refrain of which was: +“There’s a Valentine a waiting for Pauline.” + +No mistake this time! Pauline’s eyes filled with tears and her +heart beat fast as she listened to words, homely, but loving and +sincere,--each stanza closing with the refrain, “There’s a Valentine a +waiting for Pauline.” + +Not Pearline this time,--but Pauline, her own name, and Valentine, her +waiting lover. + +Now, she knew it was intentional, now she knew it was meant for her, +and she believed the references to Portuguese and to Pearline were also +meant for her. + +How it had been done she didn’t know,--but, she assumed Valentine had +somehow managed to get in on the radio programmes. + +What should she do? She couldn’t doubt that it was his method of trying +to find her. She couldn’t doubt that it was his wish that she should +return to him, and that he still wanted and loved her. + +She went out to the porch and told Mary Malden all about it. + +“H’m,” said that astute individual. “Tricky, if you ask me. And I don’t +believe your Val did it at all,--I believe it’s the work of those +smarty detectives,--they’re trying to find you, and they are tricking +you with that stuff. For, Valentine Loft couldn’t get those things into +a radio programme himself,--they won’t touch anything personal. But +the police could do it, of course.” + +Pauline was crestfallen. Suppose it should be the police, pretending +to send a message from Val, so that she would by chance hear it, and +divulge her hiding place! + +The more she thought it over, the more it seemed that Mary must be +right, and she would better not follow it up at all. + +But after she went to bed that night, she lay long awake thinking. And +the more she thought the more she felt she must speak to Val, let the +result be what it might. + +Hastily donning kimono and slippers, she went noiselessly downstairs to +the telephone. She called up Long Distance, and finally succeeded in +getting connection with Valhalla. The servant who answered her, went +immediately to call Loft. + +“Is that you, Val?” she said, timidly. + +“Yes, Pauline, darling. I am coming to you. Where are you?” + +Now that she had succeeded, she was panic-stricken, but his dear voice +reassured her, and she whispered Mary Malden’s name before the receiver +fell from her trembling fingers. + + + + + CHAPTER XVII + + ON TO MAPLEDALE + + +IT was shortly before midnight that Valentine Loft received that +telephone message. The rest of the household had retired, and Loft was +himself preparing for bed. + +“Mary Malden,” he said to himself, as he hung up the receiver. “I +might have guessed it! Just the place for her, too. Now, let’s see--” +He looked at his watch. “Just about twelve. I suppose I ought to tell +Stone I’m going,--but I hate to waken him. Poor chap, he’s been working +hard today. Fibsy,--that’s the ticket! He won’t mind.” + +Going noiselessly through the halls, Loft tapped lightly at Fibsy’s +door. There was no response, but he could hear the boy’s breathing. + +“Sleeps like a log,--or a boy,” he smiled to himself. Then he opened +the door and went in. + +“McGuire,” he whispered, touching the lad on the shoulder. + +“What’s up?” and Fibsy was awake and alert in an instant. “Oh, Mr. +Loft, have you got her? Have you?” + +“Why, yes,” and Loft was mystified at the question. “What do you know +about it?” + +“Why, I did it! I worked the radio people,--not the managers,--they +didn’t know about it,--” + +“Why, you blessed little chap! Have you really put over something like +that! Well, tell me about it some other time,--just now I want to leave +a message with you for Mr. Stone. I’m going up to New England--” + +“Oh, how are you going? When you coming back?” Fibsy sat upright in +bed, his eyes shining, his tousled red hair shining, and his very face +shining at the exciting news. + +“I’m going in my car,--and I hope to be back tomorrow afternoon or +evening.” + +“Lemme go with you? Oh, please, Mr. Loft, lemme go! I can be a help to +you somehow, and I wanta go! Please lemme! I’ve earned it, haven’t I?” + +“Why, yes, if you brought this about, you have earned it. Come on then, +can you dress quickly?” + +“Exceedin’ the limit!” and Fibsy was already out of bed and pulling on +his stockings. “You goin’ to drive yourself?” + +“Yes; meet me at the garage in about five minutes. And say, McGuire, +you write a note and stick it under Mr. Stone’s door, will you? Tell +him whatever you like.” + +“’Tis the same as done, sir,” and Fibsy began to flourish a hairbrush. + +And in less than fifteen minutes the two were tearing through the night +in the general direction of the Berkshire hills. + +“We needn’t break any speed laws,” Loft said, smiling at his own haste. +“I want to get there by daybreak, but not sooner. We can’t call on +ladies before sunup, can we?” + +“Where is she?” Fibsy asked, breathlessly. + +“At Mapledale, a tiny village in a Berkshire valley. How did you work +it, boy? That is, if you did work it?” + +“I dunno whether it was my doin’s or not.” In his intense excitement +Fibsy was lapsing into his careless diction, of which Stone daily +endeavored to cure him. + +“You see, Mr. Loft, I got around the lecturers and singers in three +big broadcasting stations, chancin’ that we’d hit Miss Fuller somehow. +Course the management wouldn’t allow it, for the simple reason that if +they let us do it, they couldn’t refuse anybody who wanted to send a +personal message. Could they?” + +“I suppose not,--go on.” + +“So I got hold of the performers,--private like,--and--well, I used up +all your five hundred dollars. But I guess it paid.” + +“I guess it did,--if that’s what brought this trip about.” + +“Don’t you know?” + +“No, I don’t; Miss Fuller merely spoke to me,--and told me where she is +staying.” + +“H’m,--maybe I wasn’t so smart as I thought I was. Well, that’s what I +came along to see. That, and some few other matters. I told Mr. Stone +in the note not to tell anybody where we’d gone.” + +“How can he, when he doesn’t know himself?” + +“I mean, I told him we were on track of Miss Fuller, but to keep it +dark.” + +“I see. What sort of wireless messages did you send, McGuire?” + +“Well, I worked one into a Kids’ Bedtime Story, one into a Domestic +Lecture,--on housekeeping and the use of Pearline,--” + +“You rascal, how did you know that I have sometimes jokingly called +Miss Fuller, Pearline?” + +“Oh, me little chum, Her Royal Highness the Countess, told me that. +Well, then I got a chap I know to write a song about the ‘Valentine a +waitin’ for Pauline,’ and oh, I did up some several more such stunts. +It was one chance in five million that any of ’em would reach her +ears,--oh, Mr. Loft, I hope they did! I hope this whole trip is on +account o’ me! I put ’em on the Springfield Broadcasting Station, +and on Schenectady and on Newark. Howsomever, if she’d a called +anyway,--why I’m just as glad for you.” + +Loft smiled at the workings of the young mind that wanted the glory and +honor if they were due him,--but if not, he was still ready to rejoice +with those that did rejoice. + +“You’re sure she’s where you’re goin’, ain’t you, Mr. Loft?” + +“I am sure, McGuire. I knew her voice, and I heard what she said. Yes, +we’ll find her, all right.” + +They sped on in silence, now and then broken by a few words, but each +busy with his own thoughts. + +Loft put determinedly from his mind all question of Pauline’s conduct, +past, present or future; he thought only of the fact that he was to see +her, and soon. + +At last the electric lights began to pale as the first gleams of dawn +shone in the East. They were skimming through beautiful country, the +Berkshire hills rose about them, the valleys became visible more and +more plainly, and when the sun was fairly above the horizon, the +travellers were nearing the village of Mapledale. + +“It’s on the outskirts, I think, or even farther out in the country--” + +But farmers were up betimes, and directions were easily procured, +so that Loft’s swift roadster came to a halt at Miss Malden’s side +veranda, just as that lady herself opened her sitting-room door. + +“My land!” she exclaimed, “what in the world do you want?” “Pauline,” +answered Loft, briefly but very truthfully. + +“Why, she ain’t up yet. You’re Valentine Loft, I suppose?” + +“Yes, and very much at your service. This is my young friend, Terence +McGuire. Can you take us in and give us breakfast,--it is Miss Malden, +isn’t it?” + +“Yes,” said Mary Malden, melting before the magnetism of Loft’s voice +and manner. “Come right along in. Joe, he’ll put your car away for you. +A fine car, I should say.” + +“A fast car,” Loft said, smiling. “Brought us up from Westchester +County since midnight.” + +“You don’t say! Well, that beats mine. Come on in. My, but Pauline will +be surprised!” + +“Will you call her,--waken her, if necessary. I don’t feel as if I +could wait--” + +He broke off, smiling, and Mary Malden, after giving him a long look, +said, “You’re all right,--yes, I’ll call her. You two can come along +into this downstairs bedroom and wash up.” + +She showed them into the small, clean chamber, and went up to Pauline. + +Good Mary Malden felt a slight misgiving as to how her guest would +stand the shock of such sudden happiness, and she went softly into the +room where Pauline lay. It was on the other side of the house and the +car’s arrival had not wakened her. + +But at Mary’s gentle touch she sat up quickly. “What is it, Mary? +Something especial, I know, or you wouldn’t wake me? Is it the +telephone?” + +“No, Pauline, dear,--it’s--” + +“I know! It’s Val, himself! Oh, Mary!” and Pauline tossed aside the +coverlets and sprang to the floor. “How did he get here? Oh, Mary!” + +Mary Malden tried to help Pauline dress, but her fingers were slow and +awkward compared to Pauline’s flying gestures. + +In less time than ever before, Pauline made a toilette that lacked no +grace or charm because of its hasty completion. + +Then she ran downstairs, and in a moment she was in the arms of +Valentine Loft. + +“Pauly! Pauly!” was all he could find to say, and Pauline said even +less. + +Miss Malden discreetly retired to the kitchen, to order extra +breakfast, but Fibsy, unabashed in the presence of this unembarrassed +demonstration, stood looking at the pair. + +Nor did they mind at all. + +“Well, Terence,” Loft said, after a moment, “this is Miss Fuller. +Pauline, Mr. McGuire.” + +“Aw, I’m just Fibsy,” the boy said, abashed now that attention was +drawn to himself. “But, I say, Mr. Loft, I’m glad you’ve got her!” + +“So am I,” and Loft kissed Pauline again. “Now tell us, Pauly,” he +said, “did you get any radio message?--young McGuire, here, will burst +if he doesn’t find that out soon.” + +“Yes, I did,--and, Val,--that’s why I telephoned.” + +“Oh, bless the Lord!” cried Fibsy, piously. “It worked, it worked! +Shades of Vidocq and Lecoq, am I the little wizard,--or ain’t I?” + +“You certainly are, Fibs,” and Loft was as astonished and as grateful +as even the boy could wish. + +Mary Malden came in to hear about it, and as they sat down to her +excellent breakfast they went over Fibsy’s clever and successful plan +in all its details. + +“But,” and Loft looked at Pauline reproachfully, “you ought to have +called me without that.” + +After breakfast the pair were left alone, and then, for the first time +a sudden constraint fell on them. + +Pauline, all at once became aware of the wrong and injustice that she +had done this man, and almost began to doubt his forgiveness. + +“Don’t, dear heart,” he said, reading her thoughts, “don’t feel that +way about it. I understand,--see, I understand perfectly why you had +to--yes, you just _had_ to, keep your poor little secret from +me. I was a brute to denounce divorce so emphatically as I did, but +since I did, of course you couldn’t tell me your own history. Now, +forget it, darling, once and for all. It’s past history; your life +with Curran--Dwyer, is a sealed book,--more, a destroyed book. We need +never mention it again,--though should the subject come up, it is not +taboo,--we are not afraid of it! It is just a negligible matter, that’s +all. Now, Pauline,--did you kill Curran?” + +“No, Valentine,” and Pauline’s gaze met his own, truthfully and +fearlessly. + +“I knew it, dear, of course, but I had to have your word. Then will you +go back home with me and face the music?” + +“Of course I will.” + +“But it isn’t pleasant music. Many people think you did kill him,--and +the reason I want you to go there, is to prove your innocence.” + +“Can we?” + +“I’m hoping Stone can do it. He’s exceedingly clever,--and I think he +has a few cards up his sleeve he hasn’t played yet.” + +“Who do you think did it, Val?” + +“I haven’t the least idea. I can’t see any way it could have been done, +nor any way anybody could have done it.” + +“Then we must just tell the truth, and do the best we can. I suppose +everybody knows about--about me?” + +“Yes, dear, everybody does. But there will be no unpleasantness that I +can shield you from. Pauline,--dear, will you do this? Will you marry +me before we go back?” + +Pauline hesitated only an instant, then, looking deep into Loft’s eyes, +she put her hands in his and whispered, “Yes, I will.” + +“Hooray!” Loft cried, in such a gay, boyish tone that Miss Malden came +running in. + +“What are you two grinning at?” she asked. + +“We’re going to be married in a few minutes,” Loft replied, kissing her +in the exuberance of his happiness. + +“My good land!” exclaimed the spinster, equally flustered by the news +and the salute. “Where? Here?” + +“Of course,” Pauline said, radiant with smiles. “Help us out, won’t +you, Mary? Can you get a minister?” + +“I can,” and Fibsy’s red head poked itself in at the door. “I saw +a dominie’s sign on a church as we came through the village. Dr. +Messiter, is he the one you want, Miss Malden?” + +“My gracious, I don’t know! Yes, I suppose so. He’s my own pastor. Yes, +of course; can you drive a car, boy?” + +“Yep, of course. Shall I take yours, Mr. Loft?” + +“No! you young rascal, you’d break every bone in its body. Take Miss +Malden’s Ford-Royce!” + +“And do I stop at the caterer’s?” Fibsy suggested, his eyes dancing. + +“Yes,--here, take Matilda along with you, she’ll know what to get.” + +“Oh, come now, Miss Malden,” Loft put in, “this isn’t a wedding, you +know,--just a marriage. We want to get back home by noon.” + +“What’s your hurry?” + +“The matter is serious, Miss Malden. I want to marry Pauline, of +course, but I want to marry her thus quickly, so I can protect her from +all sorts of troubles she is up against. Get your minister, get some +ice cream,--if that’s what Terence wants,--he deserves it,--but don’t +delay us for any fol-de-rols. Am I right, Pauline?” + +“Yes, Val. It is a serious matter to us all. Shall I go and dress?” + +“Yes, dear, run along.” + +Loft’s voice was infinitely gentle, and Pauline’s eyes filled with +tears as she went to dress for her second wedding ceremony. + +Mary came to help her and it was in silence that they chose one of the +few simple frocks Pauline had obtained during her stay with her friend. +There was a white Canton crêpe which they agreed upon, and in less than +half an hour, the bride was ready, and almost at the same moment Fibsy +arrived with the clergyman, and a consignment from the confectioner’s. + +And then in the presence only of Mary Malden and Terence McGuire the +pair were united and the benediction pronounced on their bowed heads. + +The feast was done justice to by Fibsy and the minister, but the other +members of the wedding party could not partake. + +Pauline was nervous, but Loft was strong and firm enough for both of +them. + +“I can conquer anything now,” he said exultantly, “since I have you for +my very own,” and cutting short the loving farewells between his wife +and her dear friend, he tucked her into the car beside him, leaving the +small rear seat for Fibsy. + +Off they went, the cook Matilda appearing from the kitchen to throw +some rice after them, and Miss Malden and the clergyman sat down to +talk it over. + +Meanwhile Loft’s car flew back over the road to Valhalla. They did not +go so fast but that they could enjoy the delightful ride and the still +greater delight of each other’s company. And Fibsy, like a veritable +God of the Machine, sat up behind and blessed his lucky star that he +had done something that would please F. Stone. + +As they drove up to the house at last, Fibsy, jumping out of the car, +was caught by Stone, who carried him off for a quick confab. + +“Never mind, McGuire,” Stone said, as the boy began a tale of the +radio, “it was fine,--but now you’re to fly to New York like a +bandersnatch. There’s a car waiting to take you,--go first to Hugh +Curran’s rooms at the hotel, here’s the address, on this paper, and get +from his shelves the book noted here. Then hurry around to the auction +rooms,--see, the address, and bid up on this item marked in this +catalogue.” + +“Yes, sir,” and Fibsy choked back his disappointment at not telling of +his triumph, while he listened carefully to Stone’s directions. + +“Don’t bid yourself, but get some attendant there to bid for you. If +you can’t get the item for two hundred dollars, give it up, but go as +high as that. Here’s the money. Keep yourself out of sight, but notice +who is bidding against you, and if it’s some agent, find out, adroitly, +who is his principal. Got it all?” + +“Yes, sir,--Good-by. Back here?” + +“Yes, as soon as possible. Keep the Loft car and come back in it. +The chauffeur is at your orders. Don’t muff anything, McGuire, much +depends on you.” + +Fibsy touched his cap, and ran. He knew when Stone called him McGuire, +it was because he was putting real responsibilities on him, and he was +more than willing to do his best. + +Once in the car, and the chauffeur speeding toward the city, Fibsy had +opportunity to look over the memoranda Stone had given him, and which +was clear though concise. The matter mastered, he gave himself up to +the happy reflections on his good work with the radio; and on the +loveliness of the lady for whom he had done it, even before he had seen +her at all. He greatly admired Loft, and now, more than ever, since he +had seen him rush a wedding through in less than an hour! + +“Going some!” Fibsy decided, and then he curled up for a nap _en +route_. + +In New York he did all Stone had instructed him. He went to the hotel, +got the desired book,--a queer looking old thing he thought it, too, +though in a most new, shiny and elaborate case, and then he went to the +auction rooms. + +Fibsy had never seen a book auction before, but he was quick to +apprehend conditions, and soon found an agent to bid for him. The item +he was after would not be put up for half an hour or so, and Fibsy, +remembering Stone’s caution to keep out of sight, found a seat behind +some long window draperies. + +However, he saw no one he knew, except Bob Baldwin, who he supposed +went to all book auctions. + +“Funny business, dealing in old ragged books,” he thought, but as he +watched the proceedings he soon learned that wiser heads than his set +great value on the antique volumes. + +At last the item he was interested in went up at sale. + +To his surprise it was only one page of a book! What in the world could +any one want of one page! But the bidding was brisk, and soon the +hundred-dollar mark was passed. + +Fibsy’s agent kept on, and as the bids became higher, more bidders +dropped out. At last the agent kept on against one other only, and +finally as two hundred was overbid, Fibsy’s agent ceased, and the page +went to the other bidder. + +“Who’s it gone to?” Fibsy asked of his man, as he returned the money +Fibsy had advanced. + +“To Mr. Baldwin,--he’s a swell dealer,--doesn’t even call himself a +dealer,--a commission buyer. He would have gone on forever, I guess. +Probably had an unlimited bid for somebody.” + +“Prob’ly,” agreed Fibsy, for Stone had told him not to chatter. + +Into the car and home to the Loft place the boy went next, taking care +not to be seen by Baldwin, who left the auction room just ahead of him. + +On the way home, Fibsy mused over the strange vagaries of this game of +book collecting, and determined to study up the matter. He didn’t like +to be so utterly ignorant of anything that might mean so much. + +He went at once to Stone with his report and received that gentleman’s +unstinted praises for the work in New York, and also for the ingenious +radio stunt he had pulled off. + +Fibsy blushed with pleasure at receiving the highest compliments +Fleming Stone had ever yet paid him. + +“Aw, shucks,” he said, greatly embarrassed, “it wasn’t anything of +a trick. I just happened to pull it off. Now, F. Stone, where do we +stand?” + +Stone looked grave. + +“The case is about finished,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry at the +results, but we must take what comes.” + +“You know who killed Mr. Curran?” + +“Yes, Fibs.” + +“You know how and why?” + +“Yes.” + +“When do I get it?” + +“After dinner tonight, in the library, I shall have to tell all.” + +“I’ll be there,” said Terence McGuire. + + + + + CHAPTER XVIII + + THE TRUTH AT LAST + + +DINNER at Valhalla that night partook of the nature of a wedding feast. + +Pauline, now that there was no longer any secret about her past, +blossomed into a happy bride, and except for the cloud of tragedy that +still hung over the household, all was serene and almost jubilant. + +Loft was unable to contain his joy, and almost forgot the Curran affair +in his new-found happiness. + +But not every one was so sure of Pauline’s innocence as was her +new-made husband and her intimate friends. + +In fact, Kinney had sent a message that he must have an interview with +her that evening, and Stone, to whom the matter was referred, sent back +a message for Kinney to come to the house at nine o’clock. + +Hetty Dwyer was frantic. + +Knowing all she now knew, she was positive Pauline had killed her +brother and even went so far as to hint that it was because the divorce +was not absolute, and that he was an obstacle in the way of Pauline’s +marriage to Loft. + +“What have you done, Mr. Stone?” she burst out during the dinner +hour. “What have you accomplished? Have you established Miss Fuller’s +innocence,--or Mr. Loft’s? For my part I could easily believe that +he killed my brother on Miss Fuller’s behalf! So far as I can +see, you have sat around here for four or five days and have done +nothing--nothing at all! You have refused to cooperate with the police, +yet you have done nothing by yourself to solve the mystery. You accept +the story Miss Fuller tells, you look no further, but, influenced by +her feminine charm, you believe her unsupported word. Myself, I know +her of old,--I know--” + +“There, there, Miss Dwyer,” Stone said, gently, “don’t fling questions +at me so rapidly. Nobody could answer that rapid-fire list,--I doubt if +you remember them yourself. And, too, I submit that I have made some +progress in this matter. But I don’t think the subject a good one for +dinner-table conversation, and I will ask you to wait until we can all +adjourn to the library. Then I have a few statements to make.” + +“I’m glad to hear that,” the Countess exclaimed. “I confess that I’m +growing impatient. It’s delightful to have Pauline and Val married, but +I shall feel more quiet in my mind when this other matter is settled. +As a matter of fact, I want to get away, but I won’t go, until I learn +the results of Mr. Stone’s investigation of this case.” + +“We want to go, too,” Anna said; “and Ned won’t stir a step until the +whole thing is settled.” + +“I can’t desert the ship,” Knox put in. “Val and Angel and Roly and I +are a sort of committee to look into this horrid affair, and I’m sure +not one of us will leave until we know the truth. I admit we have none +of us done much to help the investigation, but that isn’t because we +haven’t tried.” + +“And, too, it isn’t necessary for us to do anything now that Mr. Stone +is on the job,” said Angel, looking at the detective. “But I shall be +glad to get away soon, for the book auction sales are beginning and +I’ve some special orders on hand.” + +“You can run back and forth in the cars, whenever you like, Bob,” Loft +said. “Just give your own orders.” + +“Thank you, Val, but I ought to be back in town soon.” + +“As far as the discovery of the facts regarding the death of Mr. Curran +is concerned, I can tell you that this evening,” Stone said, as Pauline +rose from the table. + +She had taken her place as mistress of Valhalla easily and naturally. +Secure in her own knowledge of her innocence, sure that none of her +real friends suspected her, she also felt confidence that Fleming Stone +would prove her case to the local police,--and then, she hoped, she and +Loft could go away for a honeymoon. + +But a little later, when the party had gathered in the library, +and when Detective Kinney arrived, Pauline saw from his unfriendly +glances that the local police still deemed her guilty,--or, at least, +implicated in the tragic death of Hugh Curran. + +“To begin with,” Stone said, “you remember that there was a discussion +as to the preferable method of killing a man.” + +“Oh, don’t rake that up again,” Ned Knox almost groaned. “I’m positive +that none of us who took part in that fool discussion ever carried out +any such a plan.” + +“You may be sure of that,--but I’m not,” Stone said, and he looked at +Knox so earnestly, that Roly Mears concluded at once that Ned was the +murderer after all! + +“But, leaving that for the moment,” Stone went on, “I will tell you +first, what I discovered from an examination of Mr. Curran’s body. +Although the doctors made a careful autopsy, they didn’t chance to +discover what I found,--by looking for it. That is a small puncture +in the jaw of the dead man, through which, there can be no doubt, the +poison was introduced into his system.” + +“The hypodermic needle!” cried Roly Mears, quickly. + +“I haven’t said so,” Stone returned, “but I do say that ‘the needle’ +figured prominently among the clues I have worked from.” + +“What needle?” Angel asked, interestedly. + +“Oh, an old needle--” Stone began, “that--” + +“Oh,” Roly exclaimed, “an old rusty needle! Blood poisoning!” + +“Suppose you let Mr. Stone do the talking,” Kinney growled out; “we are +more interested in his recital, Mr. Mears, than in your comments.” + +Before Roly could resent this speech, Stone resumed. + +“Without further delay,” he said, “I will tell you what I at first +assumed. If I wrongly suspected an innocent man, wait, at least, until +you hear the whole story.” + +“Miss Fuller,--I beg your pardon,--Mrs. Loft, will you answer a few +questions?” + +“Certainly,” said Pauline, a little agitated, but reassured by Loft’s +clasp of her hand. + +“Then you are willing to state that you visited Mr. Curran,--whom you +knew as Mr. Dwyer, in his room that night?” + +“I did.” + +“As late as two o’clock, or after?” + +“Yes.” + +“For what purpose?” + +“To ask him to stop persecuting me, and to obtain from him my picture +which he had in his watch-case.” + +“And his attitude?” + +Pauline hesitated, then said, bravely, “He was, he stated, still fond +of me, and asked me to remarry him. When I refused, he became sarcastic +and even brutally rude. I knew from something he had said, that he had +some letters of mine with him,--I knew that he probably had hidden +them in a drawer beneath his handkerchiefs,--for--I knew his ways. I +found the letters, and I took them, also I took his watch, which then +lay on the table between us, and I ran away to my own room.” + +“Leaving Mr. Curran alive and well?” + +“Perfectly so. He was laughing at my discomfiture as I closed the door +behind me. He chose to treat the whole matter lightly,--though to me it +was even then a tragedy.” + +“Yes; now, think carefully, Mrs. Loft. Did you chance to see on the +table, or anywhere, a toothpick sealed in a printed paper?” + +“Yes, there was one there,--a Country Club one. I paid no attention to +it, but I do remember that it was there. Why?” + +“I will tell you in a moment. Remember it well,--it may prove to be +an alibi. However, you have an alibi aside from that. The doctors +are agreed that Mr. Curran died not earlier than four o’clock in the +morning. Therefore, he was alive at least an hour and a half after your +departure from his room. Mr. Meredith fixed that time at two-thirty, +and you say that yourself. Now, if Mr. Curran was killed by the poison +at four o’clock, who could have done it? Also, how did the murderer +make his exit?” + +“May I call your attention to the fact, Mr. Stone,” said Kinney, +ponderously, “that those are the questions that have confronted us from +the beginning.” + +“Yes, but I have learned the answers to them, Mr. Kinney.” + +“Indeed,--and how did the murderer get in?” + +“Mr. Curran let him in.” + +“And how did he leave the room?” + +“Mr. Curran let him out.” + +“You are pleased to be mysterious.” + +“Not at all. The murderer did not do his killing while he was in the +room.” + +“Then Mr. Curran killed himself?” + +“No, I do not put it that way. But I will tell you my discovery. +The puncture in Mr. Curran’s jaw, which I discovered, is inside the +mouth, and against a molar tooth. Can you wonder, that I deduced a +poisoned toothpick? At any rate I did conclude that the instrument +of death, for I could find no other. I pictured Mr. Curran, after +Miss Fuller’s departure, sitting down to think matters over, perhaps +eating a few of the nuts of which he was fond, and then, naturally, +using the toothpick,--which, let us say, had been previously dipped in +hydrocyanic acid.” + +“Could such a case be possible?” asked Kinney. + +“Yes,” Stone replied, “I have consulted with expert chemists who assure +me it is entirely possible.” + +“You’re making it sound like my work,” Angel said, with a rueful glance +at Stone. “But I plead not guilty.” + +“And wisely,” Stone returned. “Indeed, the first thing I did after +these discoveries was to examine the quill toothpick which I found in +the waste-basket. It was absolutely free from any trace of poison.” + +“Then who did it?” Bob asked, his handsome face eagerly inquisitive. + +“That’s what I wondered,” Stone said; “for I was so sure I had struck +the right trail. Of course, I knew that Mr. Baldwin had given Curran +that Club toothpick, and it seemed a clever deduction. But that clue +failed. So then I began to hunt a motive. And the motive I found.” + +“The motive!” cried Miss Dwyer; “then you can tell who killed my +brother. Tell us quickly, Mr. Stone.” + +“As quickly as possible. But the truth is so strange, the evidence +so slight, the clues so hazy that though I am convinced myself, I +cannot convince you unless you listen attentively and follow closely +my arguments. I am sure, now, that the man who killed Mr. Curran was +actuated by some circumstance connected with Mr. Curran’s collection of +books.” + +“That interests me,” Angel said; “I’ve rather suspected that all along.” + +“Yes,” Stone proceeded. “Now, the night of his death, Mr. Curran was +deeply interested in some items in certain catalogues.” + +“He was,” Angel nodded. “He discussed them with me.” + +“One catalogue in particular, Mr. Curran possessed, was not found in +his room, afterward.” + +“How do you know?” Kinney asked. + +“Because it was the catalogue that contained ‘The Needle.’” + +“‘The Needle!’” Knox cried; “was that a book, then?” + +“Yes; any great collector would know at once, that it means a very old +and rare book, called ‘Gammer Gurton’s Needle’--a volume dated 1575.” + +“My brother had that book in his library,” said Miss Dwyer, proudly. “I +remember it well.” + +“So does Mr. Baldwin, no doubt,” Stone said; “in fact, Mr. Baldwin +bought it for him.” + +“I did,” said Angel, “and I had a high old time to find a copy.” + +“Yes; now, in this catalogue I speak of there was not a copy of this +book for sale, but there was a single page of it. As some of you may +not know, book collectors pay good prices for even one leaf of a very +rare book.” + +Fibsy sat on the edge of his chair, enthralled by the conversation. +Well he knew, after his afternoon’s experience, how collectors bid up +on the single leaf of a rare book! + +“Well,” Stone proceeded, “as is generally known, there are unscrupulous +book dealers as well as dealers in other wares. Now, a favorite scheme +of theirs is to utilize in various ways these single leaves.” + +“Aside from selling them as fragments?” Loft inquired. + +“Oh, yes. They are really ingenious about it. Take this ‘Gammer +Gurton’s Needle,’ for instance. It was published in London by Thomas +Colwell, in 1575. Now, you can easily see, that the title page of such +a book would be its chief requisite. The title page missing, the volume +would be worth little in comparison with a perfect copy. So, the clever +book dealer, substitutes another title page, and so produces what is +apparently a complete copy.” + +“Where does he get the other title page?” asked Baldwin, his +supercilious air denoting his superior knowledge of these matters. + +“That’s the ingenious part of it. He photographs the real one.” + +“I’ve heard of it,” Bob said, “but I doubt if it can be done +successfully. I know about these things, you see.” + +“It might not be done in a manner to deceive you, Mr. Baldwin, or any +one who is a real connoisseur,--but it could easily fool the average +reader,--even the average collector.” + +“My brother’s copy is perfect,” Miss Dwyer informed them. “I have heard +him say so,--and it has been pronounced upon by experts.” + +“Doubtless,” agreed Stone. “Yet, here is what happened. Mr. Curran +had a catalogue of an auction sale, that listed a page of this old +book. Whereupon, he went to his own copy and on examination found that +several pages of his book had been extracted and photographed pages had +been put in their places. This must have been done, Miss Dwyer, since +the expert you spoke of examined the book. + +“However, it had been done, and naturally, Mr. Curran was greatly +astounded and that was the matter of ‘The Needle’ he was discussing +with Mr. Baldwin.” + +“Yes,” and Bob nodded his head, gravely. “I hoped to keep the matter +quiet, until I could discover who did it. But since you know of it, I +will ask you to consider it confidential. I secured one of the missing +pages at a sale this afternoon,--and I hope to get the others. I told +Mr. Curran I hoped to do this, and he was greatly pleased.” + +“Yes,” Stone said; “now, you can all see, why I suspect that some one +implicated in this theft is the man who put Mr. Curran out of the way. +And, returning for a moment, to the matter of the toothpick, may I +inquire if any one noticed a toothpick on the floor the morning the +body was found.” + +“Yes, there was one,” Knox said, thinking back. “Don’t you remember, +Angel, you found it on the floor--” + +“And threw it in the waste-basket,” supplemented Roly. + +“Threw another one in!” cried Stone, triumphantly. “Mr. Baldwin is +the clever criminal, he is the ingenious book thief,--it was he who +provided the poisoned toothpick, and after it had done its work, +he adroitly substituted a clean one for the other and placed it in +Curran’s waste-basket.” + +“Pretty work, Mr. Stone,” Baldwin said, “but not very convincing. I can +see how you can perhaps think that is all so, but I defy you to prove +it.” + +“Proof isn’t necessary, for you are going to confess,” Stone said, +coolly. “However, I will say, that here is the paper that contained the +toothpick in question. A mere glance will show you all that it has been +unsealed and sealed up again. This, of course, after the poisoned quill +was put into it. + +“Also, I have the book of Mr. Curran’s that shows not only the +photographed page in the middle of the book, but also photographed +title page and the three back pages. You see, Mr. Baldwin borrowed +this book from Mr. Curran a few months ago. He photographed the pages, +and put them in the Curran copy, using the real ones to complete a +deficient copy that he had been able to buy for a small price. This +now perfect copy, he sold for twenty thousand dollars. The sale is on +record.” + +“The jig is up!” Angel Baldwin said, but his face paled. Clearly his +jaunty air was hard to retain. “How did you catch on, Mr. Stone?” + +“Curran revealed it himself. He knew of your dishonesty. He said, you +all remember, ‘Mr. S.’, and asked if that meant anything to anybody. It +showed Mr. Baldwin that Curran knew all, and meant to follow it up.” + +“What had Mr. S. to do with the book?” Knox inquired. + +“The title page of that old volume reads, ‘Gammer Gurton’s Needle, a +right, pithy comedy, by Mr. S.’ So, Curran’s quick wit chose that way +of revealing his knowledge of the theft of the pages.” + +“That’s right,” Bob said, “it’s all true. The man was ingenious, and +so was I. You see, he knew not only of the ‘Needle’ pages, but some +few other similar bits of work I’ve put over. It doesn’t hurt the +collectors. If they don’t know it,--and they rarely do, the books +are just as good for them. And Curran brought it on himself. He +threatened to expose me, wouldn’t listen to my plea to hush it up if +I made good to him. So,--when he wanted a toothpick,--I conjured up +that scheme,--and it worked. Then I thought if I substituted a clean +toothpick that next morning, it would all blow over. Of course, I +should have confessed if Pauly had not been cleared. But after she was +free from suspicion I thought I could brazen it out. But F. Stone is +too many for me. Well, life’s a gamble, and I’ve lost.” + +And then, though Stone was alertly watching for that very thing, Bob +popped something into his mouth and swallowed it. + +“I feared it,” Stone said, springing to his side. “I watched him--but +he fooled me. Perhaps it’s just as well.” + +Perhaps it was. No one wanted to see poor old Angel stand trial +whatever the outcome might have been. And there was hope for nothing +but the extreme penalty. + +“Who’d ever think it of Bob?” Knox exclaimed, as, the women having been +put out of the room, the men clustered round the still figure. + +“Yet, in a way, it was like him,” Loft said, musingly. “He always +wanted something for nothing,--to get money without doing work. And he +thought himself so secure in this nefarious business of his, that to +find Curran ready to expose him was more than he could stand. And his +quick, clever brain seized on that toothpick idea at once. Of course, +he had the poison stuff in his photographic outfit.” + +“You get out of here, Valentine,” Knox said; “we’ll look after all the +necessary details. You go and pick up Pauline and I’ll call your car, +and you two fly down to New York and begin your honeymoon. Skittle, +now!” + +Loft hesitated a moment, but the thought of Pauline decided him. “I +will, Ned, you’re a brick,” and Loft went off at once. + +“Come, Pauly,” he said, as he returned to her in the drawing room, +“we’re going to hook jack! Get your wraps.” + +“I believe I promised to obey,” said Pauline, smiling through tears. +“Will you look after the house, Countess?” + +“Yes, of course,” and getting the drift of things, the Countess and +Anna hurried off with Pauline to throw some things in a suit-case for +her. + +And in less than a half hour the bride and groom started on their +wedding journey, the rest of the household went to their rooms and +Detective Kinney took charge of all that was left of the gay, careless, +and irresponsible Angel Bob Baldwin, while he mused on the cleverness +of the great detective who had deduced the truth from the “feathers +left around.” + + + THE END + + + + + =TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES= + +Simple typographical errors have been silently corrected; unbalanced +quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and +otherwise left unbalanced. + +Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a +predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they +were not changed. + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75642 *** diff --git a/75642-h/75642-h.htm b/75642-h/75642-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..ea3ca41 --- /dev/null +++ b/75642-h/75642-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,9452 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + Feathers Left Around | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; 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+ color: black; + font-size:small; + padding:0.5em; + margin-bottom:5em; + font-family:sans-serif, serif; +} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75642 ***</div> + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="cover" style="width: 1600px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="1600" height="2645" alt="A dreadful crime so veiled in mystery as to baffle the efforts of the cleverest of detectives."> +</figure> + + +<p class="nindc"><span class="large">FEATHERS</span><br> +LEFT AROUND<br> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc"><span class="large"><i>CAROLYN WELLS’</i></span></p> +</div> + + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p class="nindc"> +<i>Baffling detective stories in which Fleming Stone, the great +American Detective, displays his remarkable ingenuity for unravelling +mysteries</i></p> +</div> + + +<div class="flex-center"> +<ul><li>FEATHERS LEFT AROUND</li> +<li>THE MYSTERY GIRL</li> +<li>THE MYSTERY OF THE SYCAMORE</li> +<li>RASPBERRY JAM</li> +<li>THE DIAMOND PIN</li> +<li>VICKY VAN</li> +<li>THE MARK OF CAIN</li> +<li>THE CURVED BLADES</li> +<li>THE WHITE ALLEY</li> +<li>ANYBODY BUT ANNE</li> +<li>THE MAXWELL MYSTERY</li> +<li>A CHAIN OF EVIDENCE</li> +<li>THE CLUE</li> +<li>THE GOLD BAG</li> +</ul> +</div> + +<hr class="r5"> + +<div class="flex-center"> +<ul><li>PTOMAINE STREET</li> +<li><span style="margin-left: 2em;">A Rollicking Parody on a Famous Book.</span></li> +</ul> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="chapter"> + + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="title" style="width: 1200px;"> + <img src="images/title.jpg" width="1200" height="1972" alt="Title page of Feathers Left Around, a novel by Carolyn Wells."> +</figure> + + +<h1>FEATHERS +LEFT AROUND</h1> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"><span class="large"><span class="allsmcap">BY</span><br> +CAROLYN WELLS</span><br> +<i>Author of “Vicky Van,” “The Mystery Girl,” etc.</i></p> + + +<figure class="figcenter" id="logo" style="width: 100px;"> +<img src="images/logo.jpg" width="100" height="99" alt="decorative"> +</figure> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2">PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON<br> +J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br> +1923 +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc space-below2"> +COPYRIGHT, 1922, BY STREET AND SMITH CORPORATION<br> +COPYRIGHT, 1923, BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +PRINTED BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY<br> +AT THE WASHINGTON SQUARE PRESS<br> +PHILADELPHIA, U. S. A.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2"> +<span class="allsmcap">TO MY DEAR FRIEND</span><br> +ADALA WILSON</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<table class="autotable" > +<tbody><tr> +<td class="tdl"><span class="allsmcap">CHAPTER</span></td> +<td class="tdl"> </td> +<td class="tdr"> <span class="allsmcap">PAGE</span></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">I.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">LITTLE ANNA</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_9">9</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">II.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">A CELEBRATED GUEST</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_28">28</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">III.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">THE TRAGEDY</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">IV.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">THE MEREDITH STORY</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">V.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">ROLY TAKES THE LEAD</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_84">84</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">VI.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">WHAT TESSIE SAW</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_103">103</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">VII.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">THE SISTER ARRIVES</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_121">121</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">VIII.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">LITTLE ANNA’S WILES</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">IX.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">PAULINE’S GRIEF</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_160">160</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">X.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">CURRAN’S WATCH</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_179">179</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XI.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">PAULINE’S FLIGHT</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_198">198</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XII.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">WITH MARY MALDEN</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_217">217</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XIII.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">HOW LOFT TOOK IT</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_236">236</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XIV.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">FIBSY MEETS A COUNTESS</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_255">255</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XV.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">THE NEEDLE AGAIN</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_274">274</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XVI.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">CURRAN’S CRUELTY</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_293">293</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XVII.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">ON TO MAPLEDALE</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_312">312</a></td> +</tr><tr> +<td class="tdr_top">XVIII.</td> +<td class="tdlh"><span class="allsmcap">THE TRUTH AT LAST</span></td> +<td class="tdr_top"><a href="#Page_331">331</a></td> +</tr> +</tbody> +</table> + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="FEATHERS_LEFT_AROUND">FEATHERS LEFT AROUND</h2> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span></p> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I<br> +<span class="allsmcap">LITTLE ANNA</span></h2> +</div> + +<p>KNOX flung his book across the veranda.</p> + +<p>“Another of those old Sealed Room plots,” he complained, as his host, +Valentine Loft looked up, mildly inquiring.</p> + +<p>“Man dead in an inaccessible room,” Knox went on, “doors and windows +all locked, no weapon to be found; murder or suicide?—and how was it +done—if any?”</p> + +<p>“The sort I like best,” and Loft looked interested. “I eat up Detective +Stories, and I like better the How Was It Done? or the Who Did It? kind +better than the Why?”</p> + +<p>“You’re dead wrong. The real interest of a murder story lies in the +motive. That’s the thing.”</p> + +<p>“Nope. It’s the cleverness of the detail work. The art of the criminal. +Now, if I were going to commit a murder....”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span></p> + +<p>“Heavens and earth, Val! What are you talking about? Drop it, any way, +and listen to little Anna. I’ve thought up a name for this place.”</p> + +<p>“Number two thousand and six!” Loft groaned. “I pray Heaven may +sometime send me a guest who does not requite my hospitality by +offering me a ‘name for my place’!”</p> + +<p>The vivacious little blonde who had just come up on the terrace, +accompanied by a big, good-natured looking man, sat on the arm of +Loft’s chair, as she insisted on her suggestion.</p> + +<p>“You’ll like this, Val, though. It’s different from the Stonywolds and +Ferndales that the herd invents. It’s Valhalla! There, how’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Rotten!”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit of it,—is it, Ned?” and Anna Knox appealed to her husband, +whose talk with Loft she had interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Pretty good,” he responded; “I believe Valhalla means the place of +departed spirits,—so, in a way, it’s appropriate!”</p> + +<p>“If you people stay much longer, mine will be entirely departed. But +while I’ve a dram left,—I can take a hint.” Loft leaned over to touch +a bell button.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, Val, listen!” Anna went on. “It’s the name,—don’t you see? +Valentine,—Val,—Hall,—Valhalla!”</p> + +<p>“I heard you the first time,” and Loft looked at her smilingly; “but, +though I recognized the Val connection,—I didn’t get the Hall part +till you explained it. Almost like a charade.”</p> + +<p>“You are the most aggravating thing!” and Mrs. Knox favored him with +her best pout.</p> + +<p>Little Anna was one of the few perfect blondes Nature ever turned out. +She needed no vanity-case, her face was like a Greuze pastel. Her +shining hair, carelessly tucked up, nestled over her ears in loose, +involuntary rings, not at all a rolled-up mass.</p> + +<p>Dainty of flesh and blood, she was always perfectly togged, and today, +in her white knitted silk sport suit, she seemed a morsel that any man +might greedily devour.</p> + +<p>Ned Knox looked at her adoringly, yet a trifle uneasily as she lounged +nearer to Valentine Loft.</p> + +<p>“Come here, Anna,” he said, authoritatively, “come here and sit by me.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, as soon as I make Val consent to my suggestion.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span></p> + +<p>She lightly ran her fingers through the thick dark hair of Loft’s +restless head.</p> + +<p>“Get out, Anna!” he growled; “get out! I’ll murder you!”</p> + +<p>“Come over here, Anna,” said Angel Bob Baldwin, the man who had arrived +with her.</p> + +<p>Baldwin was a giant person of the Viking type, and by reason of his +calm serenity and frequently upturned blue eyes was called Angel.</p> + +<p>“But I’ve had you all the afternoon,” Anna smiled; “I can have Ned all +my life,—and I can only catch Val in an unoccupied moment, now and +then, when Pauline doesn’t see me.”</p> + +<p>“Just for that, you’ve got to go,” and with a calm push, Loft gently +dislodged her from her perch, whereupon, nothing dismayed, she went +round and sat on the other arm of his chair.</p> + +<p>But Anna’s caprices were always smiled upon, and Loft offered her a +cigarette.</p> + +<p>The veranda gave West, and the disappearing sun touched the flowers, +the trees and Anna’s golden hair with a final blaze of glory. None of +the three men could keep his eyes off her exquisite face, and though +seemingly unconscious of this, she saw it, exultantly, and her vain +little soul fairly lapped it up.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span></p> + +<p>The “place” of Valentine Loft was a small estate in Westchester County, +more noticeable for its quiet taste and comfortable appointments than +for grandeur. He had guests much of the time, and always a group of +people over the week-ends.</p> + +<p>Yet, though up to now, a bachelor’s domain, Petticoat Rule was +imminent, for in a few months Loft would marry Pauline Fuller, and into +her capable hands would pass the household reins of government.</p> + +<p>But no gracious chatelaine could improve on the kindly courtesy or +thoughtful hospitality of Valentine Loft.</p> + +<p>A good-looking chap of thirty-two, he was a man of varied interests +and vocations. A lawyer first, but more or less of a dabbler in Real +Estate, an architect of no small skill and a general financier. But his +natural quickness of intellect and his achieved efficiency enabled him +to have many irons in the fire, and keep them all hot. In his offices +he was a General, commanding, inspiring, conquering. In his home, he +was a delightful, debonair host, a man of the world, the flesh and the +devil.</p> + +<p>One of his most endearing traits was a broad, sweet tolerance that +forgave idiosyncrasies and even defects in others, making allowance +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> +for their unfortunate lack of mental or psychical equipment. Yet there +were a few things he could not condone or forgive. On these points he +was so positive as to seem stubborn.</p> + +<p>One of these was his attitude toward divorce. With the assuredness of +the inexperienced, he held that once married was always married. So +far did he carry this notion of his, that he rarely made friends of +divorced people, and preferred not to meet them.</p> + +<p>Some had jestingly told him that after his own marriage he might change +his mind, but his cold reception of these pleasantries forbade their +repetition.</p> + +<p>His love for Pauline Fuller was the love of his life,—in it he had +already put his whole soul, and Loft’s was not a fickle nature.</p> + +<p>Another fad of his was the value of inaction. He deplored waste motion, +and held that far more was lost by effort than by restraint. A favorite +maxim was: “Do nothing and all things will be done.” This he had picked +up in a book somewhere, and frequently quoted it. Though such a code +might be dangerous to a less executive brain, to Loft it was wise +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> +counsel.</p> + +<p>And seemingly, his plan worked. He seemed, indeed, to do nothing and +yet, in his domain all things were done. His household mechanism was of +the most smooth-running variety, and no incoming bride could hope to +improve on it,—the most she might hope would be to keep it up to its +present standards.</p> + +<p>With his calm foresight, Loft felt sure that Pauline would do this, or +if she didn’t, she could be taught to.</p> + +<p>And now Pauline was under his roof, spending a blissful fortnight, made +possible by the chaperonage of little Anna Knox.</p> + +<p>Though a few months younger than Pauline, Anna was a matron of +three years’ standing, and so, thoroughly equipped for the office +of chaperon. To be sure, Mrs. Ned Knox had her own notions of these +duties, but her presence gave the conventional sanction to Pauline’s +visit.</p> + +<p>Pauline, tall, dark, beautiful, came out from the house, pausing a +moment in the doorway to lift her straight, heavy black eyebrows at +Anna’s position.</p> + +<p>“You!” she exclaimed, “you grasping cormorant! You have all the men +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> +in the world, and yet you must needs reach out after my one little ewe +lamb! You go and read your prayer-book where it says, ‘Keep my hands +from picking and stealing’!”</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t hurting your lammie,” and Anna rose slowly from Loft’s chair +arm, and went over to sit beside her husband. “Was I, Val?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know you were there,” Loft returned, looking surprisedly at +her, as he rose to arrange a seat for Pauline, and Anna made a face at +him.</p> + +<p>Tea was brought then, with other cups even more cheering, and as the +shadows lengthened across the lawn and dusk began to fall, conversation +lagged and there were frequent silences.</p> + +<p>“I’m asked down to Wyngate for the week-end,” Baldwin said.</p> + +<p>“You can’t go, Angel,” Loft told him quickly. “I’ve more guests coming, +and you must help bore them to death.”</p> + +<p>“But they asked me, and they said they were going to have a lot of +interesting people there.”</p> + +<p>“Contradiction of terms. Interesting people don’t come in lots. The +other sort do.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Val, how you do make on!” cried Anna. “Haven’t we a group of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> +interesting people right here now?”</p> + +<p>“No; Pauline is the only interesting one, and I wouldn’t except her +only she’s my fiancée, and it seems as if I ought to.”</p> + +<p>“What a bear you are,” and Pauline glanced at him amusedly. She was +taller and more slender than most girls, and possessed of a lithe grace +that made one want to watch her every motion. Her coloring was very +black and very white, save where a slight touch of rouge showed on +either cheek. Her dark eyes were almost sad in repose, but brightened +to shining light when she became animated. Her smile was fleeting and +adorable, and the look she gave Loft was enough to turn any man’s head.</p> + +<p>“I’m awfully alone,” complained Angel Bob. “Here’s Pauline making eyes +at Val, while he wriggles with delight. Here’s my little flirt Anna, +gone back to her husband, and I’ve nobody to play with.”</p> + +<p>“Well you can’t run off for the week-end,” Val repeated. “I’ll import +one or two pretty girls for you to flirt with, and I’ll allow Pauline +and Anna to give you a daily dozen of their witching smiles and +glances.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, Lord, don’t overdo it!” and Baldwin flung up his hands.</p> + +<p>“Pauline,” Anna said, “what do you think these men were talking about +when Bob and I came suddenly upon them a few moments ago? Just as we +reached them, Val was saying, ‘Now, when I commit my murder—’”</p> + +<p>“Hold hard, there, Anna,” Loft said; “I didn’t put it quite like that. +You see I’ve not yet fully decided to do one. As a matter of fact, I +was saying, if I were going to commit a murder—”</p> + +<p>“Well, what’s the difference? They’re both in the future tense.”</p> + +<p>“Finish your sentence, Val,” observed Pauline. “It sounds interesting.”</p> + +<p>“You see, Ned and I were discussing Detective Stories. We’re both fond +of them.”</p> + +<p>“I thought nobody read them,” interrupted Bob, “except English Premiers +and American Presidents. I assumed they were rather highbrow stuff.”</p> + +<p>“Anything Bob says is funny,” said Anna, and as he smirked +complacently, she went on, “because he’s so funny looking.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Baldwin really did look funny.</p> + +<p>“Go on, Val,” commanded Pauline.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, I’m always interested in the plans of the murderer. If I were +one, I’d lay my plans and go about my work in such a careful and clever +way, that the crime could never be brought home to me. It could never +be discovered who did it.”</p> + +<p>“Then there wouldn’t be any Detective Story,” declared Mrs. Knox. +“Moreover, Val, you couldn’t do that,—it would be impossible.”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary it would be dead easy,” contended Baldwin. “Why, I +couldn’t kill anybody because I’m too soft-hearted, but if I did, I’d +easily arrange it so it would be an insoluble mystery.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t as easy as all that,” Loft said, slowly; “it’s possible, but +difficult. You see, you have to guard against so many contingencies. +And detectives are sharp chaps.”</p> + +<p>“In fiction,” said Bob.</p> + +<p>“In real life, too. Even if they don’t do the Sherlock act, they very +often bring home the bacon. Anyway, that would have to be reckoned +with.”</p> + +<p>“What method is most approved this year?” Pauline asked, composedly.</p> + +<p>“Strangling,” said Bob, promptly. “Strangling is neat, clean and cool. +Needs no weapon, leaves no mark. Try our strangulation method, you +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> +will never use any other!”</p> + +<p>“That’s all very well for you, with muscles like pile-drivers and hands +like clam-rakes!” Knox looked at his own small and neatly cared-for +hands.</p> + +<p>He was a trifle undersized, but agile and athletic. In inverse +proportion to his size his egotism was supreme, and he was opinionated +and a bit cocky. His imagination was unlimited, and to its fullest +scope he invented short stories which sold to the best magazines at the +best prices.</p> + +<p>“And yet, Bob,” he went on, “I’d think your poetic soul would balk at +strangling. It’s not really artistic, you know.”</p> + +<p>“What is?” asked Anna.</p> + +<p>“Shooting. That’s a gentleman’s method. Shoot your +man,—quick,—ping!—all over.”</p> + +<p>“But the weapon?” said Loft, “how to conceal it?”</p> + +<p>“There’s where your cleverness gets in its fine work. I could do it. I +could either cause the weapon to disappear,—or, with it, fasten the +crime on another—oh, no, that way wouldn’t do,—they’d see through +that,—well, then suppose—”</p> + +<p>Knox’s voice drifted to incoherent mutterings. He was thinking up and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> +rejecting one plan after another so rapidly that language could not +keep pace with his inventive mind.</p> + +<p>“He’s off,” said Loft, smiling. “He’s in the throes of composition. But +he’s wrong, and so are you, Bob. Stabbing is the only thing. Then, you +see,—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I know,” Bob growled. “Pick up the paper-cutter from the +library table,—Florentine dagger sort of thing,—jab it in and leave +it in the wound. Handkerchief wrapped round hand,—no fingerprints on +aforesaid dagger. Butler down at seven A.M. Gives alarm—I always said, +Val, you had no imagination. That’s the most hackneyed plot of all.”</p> + +<p>“Needn’t use paper cutter if you don’t want to,” said Loft, +imperturbably. “Take dagger along, if you like. Or use jack-knife,—or +carver,—or long clipping-shears.”</p> + +<p>“That’s new,” conceded Bob. “Clipping-shears are not hackneyed. Would +you use ’em open or shut?”</p> + +<p>“An open and shut case,” said Knox, coming out of his reverie, but no +one noticed him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span></p> + +<p>“You’ve omitted the best way of all,” said Pauline, her slow smile and +whimsical glance robbing her speech of horror. “That’s poison.”</p> + +<p>“Too hard to procure,” Knox said, thoughtfully. “Dramatic, in a +way,—but not facile of achievement.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, stop this talk,” and Anna shuddered. “You give me the willies!”</p> + +<p>“Now, Anna, be reasonable,” Bob admonished her. “To our class of +mentality,—and you said, yourself we were all interesting people,—no +subject is taboo. Beside, you must be interested in these themes. It’s +being done. Detective Fiction is no longer read solely by statesmen and +College Professors. The movement has invaded the stage. Only sleuth +plays are bought nowadays by our best managers.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk more than you want to, Angel,” Pauline said, kindly. “I’ll +relieve you for a while. Why, yes, Ned, one can get poison easily +enough.”</p> + +<p>“But how? Its sale is prohibited—”</p> + +<p>“But no prohibition ever really prohibited anything. It only makes it +more difficult to come by—”</p> + +<p>“And therefore, more attractive,” suggested Loft. “I’m not surprised, +though, Pauline, at your choice of method, for poison is preeminently +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> +a woman’s way. You girls couldn’t manage a shooting or a stabbing, +nor, unless you’ve gone in strong for athletics, could you pull off a +successful strangle,—but poison, now, ah, there you have it.”</p> + +<p>“There you don’t have it,” cut in Bob. “Notwithstanding Pauline’s +jaunty assurance, I’ll bet no one of us interesting people here would +know how to go about getting enough poison to kill a baby!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you have to know the chemist, I suppose, or have a club chum +who knows him,” Loft said; “of course, if I wanted poison I’d get +it,—beyond all manner of doubt. But it implies premeditation and +preparation and a certain intimacy with one’s victim, and then there’s +always the vial to be disposed of.”</p> + +<p>“It might be a powder,” said Pauline.</p> + +<p>“You could eat the paper, if necessary,” added Bob. “The vial of course +you couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“More and better authors than ever are writing detective stories, +aren’t they?” Knox said. “I believe I’ll try one.”</p> + +<p>“Short or long?”</p> + +<p>“Have to be short,—Never write books. I say, that Curran chap is doing +some corkers.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span></p> + +<p>“Hugh Curran? Indeed he is! I’ve just read his ‘Brick Walls’ and +‘Mystery of the Monastery,’ and they’re all a first rate Detective +story ought to be.” Bob spoke enthusiastically. “By Jove, I’d like to +know that fellow.”</p> + +<p>“If you’ll be a good boy and stay here this week-end, I’ll invite him +over,” said Loft, smiling.</p> + +<p>“Do you know him?” cried Anna. “Oh, do ask him! I never met a real +author! Husbands don’t count,” and she flung a merry smile at Ned. +“What’s he like, Valentine?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve only met him once,—at the Sports Club. But he seemed all there, +and he’s a friend of the Gedneys and the Bowles’ so he must be righto. +By the way, Angel, he’s a book collector of great wealth, so you can +put a few over on him. Rich book collectors never know anything.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t they?” and Baldwin smiled.</p> + +<p>Though not a regular book dealer, Angel Bob was a connoisseur, and +negotiated personal orders for exceedingly rare and very expensive +works. He had bought and sold more than one Folio Shakespeare and +Gutenberg Fragment to his own advantage as well as that of his +satisfied clients.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span></p> + +<p>Imaginative, visionary, vague in many ways, Baldwin was of accurate +and sure knowledge where Rares and Antiques were concerned. He loved +the old books; the print, the paper, the bindings, all were of intense +interest to him. He had bought several choice specimens for Loft, at +attractive prices, and he had even sold a few things to Hugh Curran +himself.</p> + +<p>Not under his own name. As a matter of business policy, Angel Bob +thought it no harm to use the fictitious firm name of Baldwin and Co.</p> + +<p>But this was an open secret, and his friends often chaffed the Angel on +his Trade. At which he good-naturedly smiled and continued his still +hunt for special finds which he could buy for a song and sell for a +chorus.</p> + +<p>“Tell us about him,—what’s he like?” begged Anna.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t notice him much,—it was a fortnight ago, before I’d read any +of his books. It was at luncheon, and all I remember is that he salted +every dish before he even tasted it.”</p> + +<p>“Poor compliment to the cook,” said Pauline; “he might at least taste +first, and give her the benefit of the doubt.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span></p> + +<p>“No,” Knox objected, “you don’t see it right, Pauly. I’m sure he +requires more salt than the average man, so he puts it in first. That, +to my mind, is more polite than to taste, and then add salt. That +seems a reproof. The first is merely a precaution, knowing his own +idiosyncrasy.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Ned! You and your psycho-analysis!”</p> + +<p>“That isn’t psych anything. It’s imagination. Well, when we get Curran +here we can ask him all about the best and cheapest modes of murder. +By the way, I’ve heard that Curran isn’t his real name. What is, +Valentine?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I think I was told, too, but I’ve forgotten. Everybody +calls him Curran or Hugh.”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t been writing but a few years,—strange his pseudonym sticks +to him so.”</p> + +<p>“He was a movie actor for a couple of years previous, I believe. He +used the name of Hugh Curran there, too.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose few movie actors use their real names. What does he look +like?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, tall, dark, holler-eyed, cadaverous, lantern-jawed,—”</p> + +<p>“I know what Val means!” giggled Anna, “he means he’s tired of the +subject!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span></p> + +<p>“Not quite that,” Loft denied, “but I don’t remember how he looked,—so +I made him up. You’ll see him in a few days,—can’t you wait?”</p> + +<p>“I can,” Pauline said, quietly, “but I don’t see, dear, why you want a +moving picture actor here.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, he isn’t that any more. He’s now a prominent novelist and a +popular author. Quite different, I assure you!”</p> + +<p>“I’ll ask him to teach Neddie to write stories,” Anna declared, and +returned her husband’s scowl by a friendly kiss.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II<br> +<span class="allsmcap">A CELEBRATED GUEST</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>VALENTINE LOFT was of most courteous even genial demeanor, but he also +had an air of dictatorship about him that somehow made any request of +his seem a command. And this with no loss of courtesy or geniality, +but rather with a potency that made his hearer eager to accede to his +wishes.</p> + +<p>The charm of Loft’s personality was a variable factor. When he chose to +exercise it, few could withstand its lure, but when he elected to be +aloof or indifferent, he was so unresponsive as to be almost repellent.</p> + +<p>It was with his most cordial smile that he said, “If you’ll come for +the week-end, Mr. Curran, we’ll do all we can to entertain you, and I +know you’ll entertain us.”</p> + +<p>“That’s fair enough,” and Hugh Curran smiled back at him. “But how do +you know what will entertain me?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t. But we’ve all sorts and conditions of amusements over home, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> +and I’m guessing you’ll be able to pick something to fit. Come, anyway.”</p> + +<p>Curran was not much given to accepting invitations to strange houses, +for his ventures had not always proved satisfactory, but impelled by +Valentine’s insistence he considered the question, gazing meanwhile at +his would-be host.</p> + +<p>Hugh Curran was not at all the lean and lanky individual that Loft had +jestingly pictured him. On the contrary, he was a bit thickset, though +active and even athletic. His face was round and rosy, somewhat of the +type of an English country squire, and his gray eyes had a humorous +twinkle, though they were roving rather than straightforward.</p> + +<p>His hair was sandy and not very abundant. If he had been a movie actor +he was certainly no film hero; his was probably a character part.</p> + +<p>“Many people there?” he asked, casually.</p> + +<p>“Ten or a dozen. One’s a Countess,—Russian.”</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t intrigue me. Go on. Anyone I know?”</p> + +<p>“Stella Lawrence? Psychic, ash-blonde—”</p> + +<p>“Pah! Go on.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. and Mrs. Jack Meredith—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t know ’em.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> + +<p>“Mrs. Ned Knox,—gay little married flirt, pretty as a poet’s +dream,—Miss Pauline Fuller, my fiancée,—and that’s all the women.”</p> + +<p>“Men?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come now,—aren’t you a bit of a fuss?”</p> + +<p>“No. Men?”</p> + +<p>“Well, Ned Knox,—chum of mine; Bob Baldwin, ditto.”</p> + +<p>“Baldwin, the book dealer?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll come. I’m a collector, and he knows more about old books than any +one I ever met.”</p> + +<p>“You know him, then?”</p> + +<p>“In a booky way. I’d like to talk books with him. I’ll come.”</p> + +<p>For once, Valentine Loft had a strange feeling of being favored by +the visit of a guest. Usually it was the other way; but though the +experience was novel it was not unpleasant. Indeed, he went so far +as to say, “Thank you, I’m glad to have you. Come over in time for +tea,—I’ll send for your duffle.”</p> + +<p>The interview had taken place at the Club house, and as the two men +separated, a man sitting nearby turned to Loft with a quizzical look.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span></p> + +<p>“Surprised at you, old top!” he said, smiling. “Didn’t know +tuft-hunting was among your sports.”</p> + +<p>“If I choose,” and Loft nodded indifferently. “But I asked him because +the girls over at the house are crazy to meet him. And, too, he seems +an interesting chap.”</p> + +<p>“Not that; but I know your whims, and Hugh Curran is a divorced man.”</p> + +<p>“He is! I didn’t know that! What’s his real name, by the way?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t remember,—Dyer or Dwyer, or something like that. He’s always +called Hugh Curran. Like O. Henry, you know. Few know <i>his</i> real +name.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care anything about his name, but I wish I’d known he was a +divorced man. I’ve a prejudice—”</p> + +<p>“I know you have, but it’s a silly one. In this day and generation you +have to accept divorce as you do the universe. You needn’t go in for it +yourself, but you ought to respect the rights of those who do.”</p> + +<p>Jim Martin looked at Loft seriously. The men were good friends, and +Martin was one of the few who ever presumed to reprove the autocrat.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps I’m morbid on the subject, but I can’t bring myself to treat +it lightly.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t treat it at all. Leave it lay. And especially in Curran’s case. +Why worry? He’s an author and a celebrity—”</p> + +<p>“Hardly that.”</p> + +<p>“Well, his detective stories are mighty popular, and that means +celebrity nowadays. Anyway, he’s important enough to have his personal +affairs let alone.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I don’t propose to discuss the thing with him. I’m sorry I +asked him to my house, but it’s done now, and can’t be helped. At any +rate he’s presentable.”</p> + +<p>Loft went home, rather disgusted with himself for not having further +investigated Curran’s affairs before giving him an invitation. But +since it couldn’t be helped, he dismissed it from his mind.</p> + +<p>“Is he coming?” cried Anna from the veranda, as Loft appeared.</p> + +<p>“Yes, tonight,—he’ll stay till Monday. Don’t bowl him over completely, +Anna.”</p> + +<p>“Why not?” and the seraph face looked innocently inquiring. “What’s he +look like, Val?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span></p> + +<p>“Elderly, stooping, rather rheumatic and with long white whiskers.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! You told a different story yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“And neither is true,” Ned Knox said. “Wait till you see him, Anna. +He’s not nearly so good-looking as your own legitimate husband.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody is,” and Little Anna beamed on the man who adored her so. “But +I suppose he’s a man of genius.”</p> + +<p>“They’re terrors,” observed Angel, from a swing in the corner of the +porch, where he sat idly looking over one of Curran’s books. “I’ve read +Lombroso, and a man of genius is the most awful brute on the face of +the earth.”</p> + +<p>“Heavenly!” cried Anna, “I love brutes! But why are men of genius ’em?”</p> + +<p>“Because their brains hover between achievement and insanity. Don’t you +know, ‘Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions +thought from sense divide.’ Pope.”</p> + +<p>“You’re in no danger of dementia, then,” and Anna smiled kindly on him. +“But all insane people aren’t brutes. Some are quite gentle.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span></p> + +<p>“What delightful subjects you choose for discussion,” and Pauline +came toward them. She usually was the last one to arrive as the group +gathered for tea. Anna spitefully said it was to create a sensation +by her appearance, but Pauline had replied that she always did that +anyway. Whereupon Anna had sulked.</p> + +<p>Pauline did, however, always command attention. Without effort, she +seemed to dominate the rest, and though Anna was more beautiful from +an artist’s standpoint, yet a poet would find greater inspiration in +Pauline’s dark eyes and sensitive face than in Anna’s pink and white +Bisque beauty.</p> + +<p>The two girls were not friends, although convention kept them kindly +courteous. They had little in common, and were rarely alone together.</p> + +<p>Yet both looked forward to the coming of the stranger. Anna, because he +would be a new man to flirt with and an important one, Pauline because +of a curiosity to see what he was like.</p> + +<p>The house guests already arrived, flocked to the terrace where tea +would be served.</p> + +<p>A notable arrival was the Countess Galaski.</p> + +<p>Unpretentious of appearance, the titled Russian was a general +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> +favorite. Sharp-tongued and sharp-witted, she yet had a superabundant +sense of humor, and beneath all a kind heart. She jollied the men, +admonished the women, took always the best of everything for herself, +and was always happy.</p> + +<p>“How are you?” she cried, looking about inclusively, as she stepped +through the doorway. “I am here! Angel, the best chair! Valentine, a +foot cushion! Pauline, you have gone off in your looks! Fie, fie! Anna, +I will not speak to you,—you are too beautiful. Come here, and kiss +me.”</p> + +<p>“Who, me?” inquired Knox, rushing to her.</p> + +<p>“Yes, bad man, you!” she held up her rouged cheek for a somewhat +crestfallen caress from Knox, who had expected rebuff. But the Countess +never did the expected.</p> + +<p>Then Stella Lawrence trailed in. Stella was the sort who always trails +in preference to any other means of locomotion. Though her skirts +did not quite touch the ground, there were ends of chiffon, floating +draperies and a long filmy scarf that trailed along the floor behind +her.</p> + +<p>Green-eyed, ash-blonde, pale, thin, willowy, she paused back of the +chair of the rather robust and florid countess, well knowing the value +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> +of the contrast.</p> + +<p>“Get away!” Countess Galaski screamed. “Get away, you and your +Burne-Jonesiness! I can’t stand the comparison!”</p> + +<p>“Indeed you can, Countess,” Anna declared, cattily. “It makes you look +awful wholesome and real.”</p> + +<p>“In for a high old time, ain’t we?” whispered Roly Mears to Pauline.</p> + +<p>This delightful young man was very young and very incorrigible.</p> + +<p>He said what he chose, and though, having never met a countess before, +he was not a bit scared of her, it was dawning on him that they might +yet become cronies.</p> + +<p>“You behave yourself, Roly,” Pauline returned. “There’s mischief in the +air. Anna’s on her high horse—”</p> + +<p>“And Stella’s full of the devil, and if Friend Countess puts up a +chattering, there’ll be fireworks.”</p> + +<p>“Hush, here are the Merediths.”</p> + +<p>The Merediths were scarcely worth hushing for, being the colorless pair +that seem to infest house-parties unavoidably.</p> + +<p>Comfortably middle-aged, inconspicuous of dress, pleasantly chatty of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> +manner, the two melted into the group and were lost to notice.</p> + +<p>And then Hugh Curran came.</p> + +<p>Though nearly everyone present would have scorned to admit any awe of +the celebrity, yet a slight hush fell as the author greeted his host.</p> + +<p>The Countess stared openly. Anna donned her coyest smile, and Stella +Lawrence fell quickly into what she deemed her most fetching pose.</p> + +<p>Roly Mears stopped short in the middle of a funny story and even +Pauline, who was presiding at the table, allowed the cup she was +filling to run over.</p> + +<p>Graceful and at ease, Hugh Curran moved about until he was made +acquainted with all, and then looking around a bit deliberately, chose +a seat by the Countess.</p> + +<p>Roly Mears, cup in hand, joined them.</p> + +<p>“I say, Mr. Curran,” he began, “I’ve read your books,—I think they are +fine—”</p> + +<p>“Roly, you baby,” the Countess cried; “that isn’t the way to talk to a +real author. That’s only for the little upstarts who like to hear about +their ‘published works.’ Mr. Curran is above and beyond that sort of +thing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> + +<p>“Thank you, Countess,” said the author, gratefully; “if you can +manage it, I’d like you to travel round with me and make that speech +everywhere, just before I arrive.”</p> + +<p>“I ought to be chagrined,” Roly admitted, “but I’m not. I’m +fascinated,—with both of you. What are you going to talk about, Mr. +Curran? Politics?”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed,” and Hugh Curran smiled. “I’m not going to talk at all. +I’m going to listen.”</p> + +<p>“To me,” said Ned Knox, joining them. “You needn’t talk about your own +books, Mr. Curran, but do settle a vexed question we were discussing +the other day. Is motive or method a more important factor in a +detective story?”</p> + +<p>Curran looked a bit bored, but answered with evident patience.</p> + +<p>“I think that is entirely a matter of opinion with both author and +reader. Some are more interested in one, some in the other.”</p> + +<p>“After all there are only three motives,” Meredith said, sententiously, +“greed, revenge and love.”</p> + +<p>He had quite evidently heard or read this statement, and pronounced it +as a great truth.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span></p> + +<p>“Haven’t you omitted an important one?” asked Curran, quietly. “Isn’t +fear sometimes an impelling motive?”</p> + +<p>“Fear? Of what?”</p> + +<p>“Fear of harm from the victim, fear of revelation of a secret,—” +Curran let his gaze wander round the room. Clearly, he was not +interested in this talk.</p> + +<p>He looked at his beautiful hostess. Pauline sat still at the tea table, +her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes, with a far away look gazing out +of the window, across the lawn. She, too, was uninterested.</p> + +<p>Angel Bob, pacing up and down the terrace, was listening.</p> + +<p>“I’ve no use for detective stories,” the Countess said, bluntly; “I +detest them. A good old fashioned love story for me. But, if I do +read a murder yarn, what I like best is the finding of those funny +little clues. Cigarette stubs, with the criminal’s monogram; a broken +cuff-link, an initialled handkerchief,—ah, those are the things that +you can’t get along without,—eh, Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p>“They are certainly useful,” he smiled. “But of late years we try to do +without the broken cuff-link or the dropped handkerchief.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> + +<p>“Is that what you call circumstantial evidence?” Stella Lawrence +trailed over to the novelist. “Just what is circumstantial evidence, +Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p>She put the question as one of magnificent import. Stella was like +that. She cared nothing at all for detective fiction, but if she asked +a question concerning it, she fully expected detailed information.</p> + +<p>She got it.</p> + +<p>“It’s this way, Miss Lawrence,” Curran said, his tone a bit +patronizing. “I’ll illustrate it by an anecdote. An old darkey was +arrested for stealing chickens, and he was convicted on circumstantial +evidence. ‘What’s circumstantial evidence?’ a neighbor asked him. +‘Well,’ he said, ’ez near ez I kin splain it f’um de way it’s been +splained to me, circumstantial evidence is de feathers dat you leaves +lyin’ roun’ after you has done wid de chicken.’ That, Miss Lawrence, is +practically what circumstantial evidence is. Or, rather, the clues that +detectives set so much by, are merely feathers left around.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, how graphic!” and Stella clasped her hands delightedly; “and how +wonderfully well you do dialect. Are you a Southerner, Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p>“No,” he returned, “I’m from Indiana.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span></p> + +<p>“Of course,” exclaimed Roly Mears, “where else could a real author come +from?”</p> + +<p>But Curran made no reply. Again his glance roved toward Pauline, who, +though not yet chatelaine in name, assumed the position of hostess.</p> + +<p>She raised her eyes and met his and quickly looked down again. Pauline +had not the heedless effrontery of Anna, nor yet the calm poise of +Countess Galaski.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith, the busybody! sitting next to Pauline, whispered, +roguishly. “Don’t be so embarrassed, my dear, because a stranger shows +his admiration. You are looking unusually lovely today.”</p> + +<p>Whereupon Pauline blushed almost vividly, and the perspicacious Hugh +Curran smiled.</p> + +<p>“Will you take me on at croquet, Stella?” asked Mears, “you can trail +round at that in those swishy draperies very effectively. And you +couldn’t golf or bowl or tennis in them.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Roly,—get two more—”</p> + +<p>“No; I want you all to myself.”</p> + +<p>“Is that the way one does here?” asked Curran, quickly. “Then, Miss +Fuller, will you walk with me,—and may I have you all to myself?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p> + +<p>“You may not!” and Valentine Loft spoke decidedly. “But, perhaps Mr. +Curran, you do not know that Miss Fuller is my fiancée. I allow no man +to have her ‘all to himself.’”</p> + +<p>“And quite right,” Curran bowed. “Pardon me if I was indiscreet. Mrs. +Knox, will you walk with me—round the gardens?”</p> + +<p>“All to yourself?” and Anna tilted her head and smiled up from under +her long lashes.</p> + +<p>“Yes,—if your husband will allow—”</p> + +<p>“He doesn’t allow me anything,—except a quarterly. I’m a twentieth +century wife, and I do my own sweet will. Come along, Mr. Curran. +Good-by, Ned.” She tossed her husband a kiss, and turned toward the +steps.</p> + +<p>Angel Bob Baldwin followed her.</p> + +<p>“I’m with you two,” he announced, cheerfully. “I’m the three that makes +the crowd.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, Mr. Baldwin,” said Curran, so heartily that Anna bit her lip +in annoyance. Had she then, made no impression on the lion’s heart?</p> + +<p>Her annoyance increased as they proceeded along the garden paths, for +save for an occasional and almost perfunctory speech to her, the two +men talked continuously of rare books and their authors.</p> + +<p>“You’re still collecting Incunabula?” Baldwin asked, and Curran +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> +replied in enthusiastic affirmative.</p> + +<p>Then the talk touched upon Elzevirs and Bodinis, on Kelmscott Press and +Doves Bindery, until Anna rebelled.</p> + +<p>“You must either stop that Choctaw,” she decreed, “or take me back to +the house! I won’t be brought out here in this rose-scented dusk by two +good-looking men, and have the talk entirely over my head! You ought to +be ashamed! It isn’t done!”</p> + +<p>There was a pathetic note in her voice, a hint of tears, and each man +felt guilty. Immediately they dropped the subject of books; Curran +forbore to mention the work that he was about to discuss, and Angel +deferred the account of a rare bargain he had lately acquired, till +some more convenient time.</p> + +<p>“Tell us all about yourself, Mr. Curran,” Anna said, by the way of a +starter. “Are you engaged to be married?”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed, why should I be?”</p> + +<p>“Foolish question, Number 1008! Why should you not be? You are +depriving some nice girl of a perfectly good husband.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not perfectly good,—I’m indifferent bad. And, too, I’ve been +married once.”</p> + +<p>“You have! Oh,” Anna’s voice became very tender, “forgive me. Has she +been dead long?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span></p> + +<p>“She isn’t dead at all. Did you never hear of Reno?”</p> + +<p>“I have—indirectly. So that’s the way it is.”</p> + +<p>“I say, Curran,” and Angel Bob looked at him earnestly, “does Loft know +this?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure. Probably he does,—it’s no secret. Why?”</p> + +<p>“Only that he has had a special, almost an abnormal hatred of divorce +and of divorced people. As a friend, let me ask of you not to say +anything on the subject to him.”</p> + +<p>“I shan’t purposely,—certainly. But what a queer notion. One might as +well have a prejudice against blue-eyed men,—or against maple trees. +Statistics prove—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, we know all that,” said Anna, impatiently, “and it isn’t a +question of divorce at all. It’s a question of humoring Val’s whims. +And I don’t mind telling you that your stay here will be a whole lot +pleasanter if you don’t touch on that subject.”</p> + +<p>“I surely agree. Any other subject taboo?”</p> + +<p>“Not by him,” Anna assured him. “But if you care to consider poor +little me, I’ll beg of you not to talk collecting <i>all</i> the time. +Something tells me that when you all get started, say after dinner, +tonight, you’ll begin by looking over Val’s collections,—he hoards +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> +lots of things beside books and you’ll talk antiques and curios and +bindings and such things—and I do hate ’em so!”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, Little Anna, if they begin on that, I’ll take you off +somewhere in the moonlight and flirt with you.”</p> + +<p>Angel looked into her eyes with a glance that was not all make-believe.</p> + +<p>“I appreciate that, Bob, for I know the old things interest you, too.”</p> + +<p>“Only the books, Anna. I don’t care a rap for Val’s Egyptian stuff—or +Mexican. I do care for books though.”</p> + +<p>“And you hate to see them maltreated, eh, Mr. Baldwin?” Curran looked +at him quizzically. “You’d hate to see a rare old volume torn or +injured, wouldn’t you?”</p> + +<p>“It would be sacrilege,” Angel said, emphatically.</p> + +<p>“Imagine tearing out a leaf!” and Curran almost shuddered.</p> + +<p>“Why, who would do such a thing as that?” cried Baldwin.</p> + +<p>“The subject is taboo, remember,” and then Curran addressed himself to +Anna.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III<br> +<span class="allsmcap">THE TRAGEDY</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>DINNER at Valhalla that night was a brilliant affair.</p> + +<p>Anna’s name for the place had caught on, and Loft began to like it as +he heard it used by his guests.</p> + +<p>Anna, as chaperon, graced the head of the table, and Curran sat at +her right hand. This left Pauline for Loft’s guest of honor, and as +she took her place beside him, he thought she had never looked more +beautiful. Her great dark eyes seemed brighter than usual and her +cheeks showed a flush that was quite obviously not rouge. She wore +black, her only ornament a long slender neck-chain of small bright +diamonds. She was in vivacious, almost perverse mood, quite unusual for +the calm, gracious Pauline.</p> + +<p>Anna, tonight, was demure and coy. She set herself the task of +subjugating Hugh Curran, and so far as she could see she was putting it +over.</p> + +<p>Yet the man was tricky, she could see that, and more than likely, she +thought, his devotion was insincere.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span></p> + +<p>Though commonplace looking, Curran had an air of easy superiority that +made him almost distinguished. But his round red face and sparse sandy +hair precluded all pretension to good looks.</p> + +<p>Countess Galaski was gorgeous. Robed in white satin, glittering +with jewels and autocratic of manner, she appropriated the best of +everything, was rude to everybody, and yet somehow charmed all by her +gay naïveté.</p> + +<p>Stella wore especially long and diaphanous draperies, of pale green and +silver, and looked more than ever like the Blessed Damosel.</p> + +<p>On the whole Loft had a right to feel proud of his guests, for aside +from their appearance they were a group of mentally alert and even +original talkers.</p> + +<p>But when the Countess began to expatiate on her marvelous collection of +miniatures, Anna gayly called a halt.</p> + +<p>“Countess, darling,” she said, “we beg of you to don’t. Mr. Curran is a +book collector and he’s crazy to talk Black Letters, or whatever they +are, with Angel Bob, who is an Old Book Fiend too. Val, of course, +collects everything, from books to old bandboxes, and I believe Mrs. +Meredith collects postcards. But they’ve all promised not to talk +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> +Collect at the table. So, be goody-girl, Countess dear, and drop your +miniatures.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, very well,” and the Countess smiled at Little Anna, “the loss is +yours not mine. But I have to talk. I’ll tell you about—”</p> + +<p>“Wait a minute,” the incorrigible Roly dared to interrupt her, “since +we have Mr. Curran here, and Lord knows when I’ll ever get a chance at +him again, let’s talk Detective Stories. We all love ’em.”</p> + +<p>“Not all of us,” Anna dissented; “but you may talk on that subject for +fifteen minutes, Roly. After that, I shall choose the theme.”</p> + +<p>“To go back to a discussion we had the other day,” Angel Bob began, +“what do you think the best and finest method of murder, Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith gave a little gasp at this, and her husband looked +shocked.</p> + +<p>But Curran took it as a matter of course.</p> + +<p>“Each method has its advantages,” he began. “And too, much depends on +the criminal. If he has any surgical training, stabbing is indicated, +if he has a good aim, shooting is better. An athlete would, of course, +strangle.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span></p> + +<p>“And a woman would give poison,” said Pauline, slowly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” and Hugh Curran looked at her, “yes, a woman probably would.”</p> + +<p>“If this conversation keeps up,” Mrs. Meredith spoke hysterically, “I +shall have to leave the table.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be a fool, Madame!” exclaimed the Countess. “If you would read +De Quincey’s essay on Murder As A Fine Art, you would learn that the +greatest minds are willing to discuss such matters. One does not have +to be a spook to discuss Spiritualism!”</p> + +<p>“Spiritualism is a decent subject,” Mr. Meredith said; “whereas, murder +is, or should be, outside the pale of our thoughts.”</p> + +<p>“Well, you have to be dead before you can be a spirit,” the Countess +returned, “and if one is unfortunate enough to be murdered, there’s no +reason why those still alive shouldn’t talk about it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m for strangling,” Baldwin said; “then there’s no weapon,—no +‘feathers left around,’ you see. Also, granting one <i>wants</i> to +kill a man, what a pleasure it must be to feel one’s fingers on his +throat,—tightening, closing in—tighter,—a gasp—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span></p> + +<p>Angel Bob, in mischievous mood, portrayed his speech in dumb show, with +such realism that Mrs. Meredith shrieked and rose from the table.</p> + +<p>“Sit down” commanded the Countess, in ringing tones, and Mrs. Meredith +sat down.</p> + +<p>“I’d shoot,” and Ned Knox, picking up the theme, acted the part of an +intruder, taking aim at an unsuspicious victim. He chose Loft for his +purpose, and aimed a fork carefully at his right temple.</p> + +<p>“But I can see you,” Loft objected.</p> + +<p>“Turn your head away, then,” Knox counselled.</p> + +<p>“Shooting has disadvantages,” Curran said, musingly. “There’s the +noise.”</p> + +<p>“Silencer,” returned Knox.</p> + +<p>“Not always practicable. Then, there’s the weapon.”</p> + +<p>“Easy enough to dispose of,” Knox laughed, “except in fiction, where it +is needed as a clue,—if it has initials on it, or is one of a pair.”</p> + +<p>“Righto!” and Curran laughed appreciatively. “I’m glad to learn how you +readers are on to our hackneyed tricks. Stabbing is a good way—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Loft agreed; “with the library paper-cutter. Used to be an old +Italian dagger, and the victim many times said it ought not to be left +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> +around, as it was a suggestion and a temptation to any murderous-minded +bystander.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Lord, you know all the tricks of the trade!” Curran sighed in mock +despair. “I confess it’s hard to get a novelty for a story nowadays.”</p> + +<p>“But it’s easy to murder,” said Bob.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t,” contended Loft; “it’s possible, but it’s a delicate and +difficult affair to put over artistically. I’m not talking of yeggs and +gunmen.”</p> + +<p>“Except for them, it’s impossible.” Ned Knox averred. “I don’t propose +to try it for that reason. I know I’d fail.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you would,” and Anna giggled. “If you could put it over, +you’d have tried it on me long ago. I’ve given you sufficient +provocation, I know. Anyway, time’s up,—No more murder talk. Now, +we’ll discuss Mr. Curran. How do you all like him?”</p> + +<p>“Top hole!” cried Roly Mears. “But I want to know more about him. What +does he eat for breakfast? What—”</p> + +<p>“Wait till morning and you’ll find that out,” Loft interrupted. “I want +to know his real name. No secret, is it, Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span></p> + +<p>“Not a bit. I had another name, but I lost it, somehow. It’s my +besetting sin,—to lose things. I lost my wife, then I lost my +ambition. I found that again, though. But mostly I lose material +things. I can’t keep a pencil or a rubber or a sheet of paper, no +matter how many I buy. I’m just naturally untidy. My room always looks +like Broadway the day after Election night. My brushes just won’t stay +on my dresser; my clothes crawl out of their wardrobes and drawers. I +can’t help it,—are you like that, Miss Fuller?”</p> + +<p>Apparently he addressed Pauline because she was looking at him +intently, seemingly interested in his tale of his personal derelictions.</p> + +<p>“N—no,” she replied, looking startled at being thus spoken to. “I +don’t think so,—I—I never thought about it.”</p> + +<p>“Goodness, Pauline,” said Anna, staring at her, “don’t take it so +seriously. I can vouch for your tidiness. I never knew a girl who kept +her top bureau drawer in order as well as you do.”</p> + +<p>“That is a sure test,” declared the Countess. “I’ll bet Miss Lawrence’s +is a kaleidoscope of laces and ribbons, gloves and handkerchiefs.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span></p> + +<p>“It is!” said Stella, good-naturedly. “And I want it so—With my +temperament, I couldn’t be methodical or systematic or anything like +that. Fate rules me—”</p> + +<p>“And you leave it to Fate to clear up your bureau drawers,” said Roly, +laughing. “Good idea, so do I.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” said Mrs. Meredith primly, but no one seemed to care deeply.</p> + +<p>The Merediths were out of place, but had been asked because of some +social obligation of Loft’s. They were shocked several times during +dinner, but perhaps Mrs. Meredith’s sensibilities were most greatly +jarred, when, leaving the dining room, she chanced to overhear Hugh +Curran ask the butler for a toothpick.</p> + +<p>The capable Binns didn’t allow himself to be jarred, but he was +bothered, for the request caught him unprepared. However, he quickly +bethought himself of the tiny Japanese wooden toothpicks that the cook +used to pin rolled morsels and he soon supplied the distinguished guest.</p> + +<p>Angel Bob noticed the incident and was more amused at Mrs. Meredith’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span> +disdain than at Curran’s unconventionality.</p> + +<p>The party broke up into smaller groups.</p> + +<p>Anna seized upon Curran, who went, nothing loath, with her to see the +moonlight from the upper terrace.</p> + +<p>Loft and Pauline went for a stroll in the rose garden; Roly Mears set +himself to tease Stella and to please the Countess, succeeding well +with both.</p> + +<p>As it neared bedtime, all gathered for good-nights in the library.</p> + +<p>“Tomorrow,” said Curran, as he looked at the filled shelves, “I want to +spend the morning in here. You have wonderful treasures, Mr. Loft, and +I anticipate joyous hours with them.”</p> + +<p>“I am clairvoyant, Mr. Curran,” Stella said, looking at him dreamily, +“and I can read your soul.”</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens, don’t, Miss Lawrence! It’s not fit reading for a young +girl!”</p> + +<p>“But I’m not like other girls,” Stella was determined to have her +innings, “I’m apart,—alone.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Curran, not thinking of anything better to say.</p> + +<p>“Yes. And in your soul I read a longing for all that is beautiful and +good—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> + +<p>“I like them beautiful,—I’m not so insistent on the good,” and Curran +smiled. This line of talk always bored him.</p> + +<p>“Things, I mean, not people. Oh, I can read you, Mr. Curran.”</p> + +<p>“And I can read you, Miss Lawrence. I’m clairvoyant, myself.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, are you?” cried the Countess. “Read us all, won’t you? I don’t +care for Stella’s foolishness,—you shut up, Stella.”</p> + +<p>“Want a table?” asked Loft, “or any paraphernalia?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not a parlor Magician,” Curran protested. “I don’t know +anything about legerdemain or hocus-pocus. But I have a natural gift of +reading minds.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t do it!” exclaimed Roly Mears. “If these people know what I’m +thinking they’d never speak to me again!”</p> + +<p>“You’re joking,” said Curran, “but there are some really quaking in +their shoes, lest I tell something they don’t want told.”</p> + +<p>“I know!” said the Countess, “it’s Mrs. Meredith! I always suspected +she led a double life! Well, much as I want to know the truth about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> +it, I beg of you, Mr. Curran, don’t tell it all out in public.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Meredith blushed angrily, but said nothing. She had learned it was +better not to irritate Countess Galaski.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” urged Anna. “Tell us something to prove your powers. I hate +people who say they can do things and then do nothing at all!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said the Countess, “go on! Tell anything you like about me.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” said Curran, “you’re thinking that you wish you had worn +your old slippers after all, for the new ones are a bit tight and they +do pinch.”</p> + +<p>“You’re perfectly right!” and the Countess joined in the general +merriment. “But that isn’t clairvoyance. I’ve had my face screwed up +with pain all the evening!”</p> + +<p>“Well, how’s this, then? In the mind of one of you is a most +disquieting thought, which I may suggest by <i>Black Pansy</i>.”</p> + +<p>“That’s me!” said Ned Knox, as Curran waited for some response. “I’ve a +lot of stock in that mine, and unless she picks up soon, I’ll probably +start ‘Over the hills to the poorhouse!’”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span></p> + +<p>“How did you know it, though?” and Anna looked at Curran, incredulously.</p> + +<p>“Clairvoyance,” replied Curran, not caring to say that he had seen a +newspaper thrown down, with a marked notice about the mine.</p> + +<p>“Also,” he went on, “as I look around, I feel vibrations from others of +you.”</p> + +<p>He glanced from one face to another, all breathlessly watching him.</p> + +<p>“If I should say,” he spoke very slowly, “if I should say +<i>Rosalie</i>—would I reflect the word in anybody’s mind?”</p> + +<p>A dead silence followed.</p> + +<p>Removing their regard from Curran, one looked at another, but no one +spoke.</p> + +<p>Nor did any one look especially self-conscious. Loft looked inquiring, +Angel looked bewildered. The women looked merely interested, except +Pauline, who seemed bored. She moved restlessly, and stared hard at +Curran.</p> + +<p>“Right,” Curran said; “it’s better not to recognize the reference.” He +nodded his head as in satisfaction.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span></p> + +<p>“Suppose I say, ‘<i>Mr. S.</i>’” he went on. “Is he in any one’s +thoughts?”</p> + +<p>Again the silence fell.</p> + +<p>Anna, frankly curious, glanced quickly from one to another. From +the faces, as she read them, the reference might mean something to +Valentine Loft or to Bob Baldwin. On the other hand, they might look +disturbed, as they both did, merely from interest in the proceedings.</p> + +<p>“Oh, well,” Curran resumed, “I see, the people who recognize my +allusions prefer not to say so. I don’t blame them. Now, Mrs. Knox, +shall I tell what’s in your mind? Shall I mention the name of—”</p> + +<p>“No!” screamed Anna, “no! If you do, I’ll kill you!”</p> + +<p>But she told her husband afterward that she only said this to make a +sensation.</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Curran, “I’ll read Miss Lawrence’s mind. Last night Miss +Lawrence dreamed—”</p> + +<p>“Stop!” Stella cried, her eyes staring; “if you dare divulge that +dream—”</p> + +<p>Curran smiled. He had made a stab in the dark, feeling sure that the +psychic Stella, would always be dreaming and interpreting her dreams +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> +according to Freud.</p> + +<p>“Guess we’ve had enough of this sort of thing,” and Loft rose. “Don’t +trouble yourself, Mr. Curran, to read my mind, I can read it for +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing startling in it just now,” Curran said; “but there will +be soon. I’m slightly prophetic as well as clairvoyant, and I +prognosticate a lot of surprising, even tragic thoughts for your mind +soon.”</p> + +<p>“All right, I’ll go to bed and sleep while the sleeping’s good, then,” +and Loft inaugurated good-nights, and the party dispersed.</p> + +<p>By next morning Loft had forgotten the irritation he felt at Curran’s +strange speech, and after his breakfast he went to the library to await +the coming of his guest to talk books.</p> + +<p>The women breakfasted in their rooms, the men dropping into the +breakfast room whenever they pleased.</p> + +<p>Loft was down first, but was soon joined by Angel and Ned Knox, both of +whom wanted to hear Curran discourse on the subject of rare books.</p> + +<p>“Keep your ears open, Bob, and find out what he wants,” advised Loft. +“You ought to be able to make a sale or two.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span></p> + +<p>“Hope so,” Bob assented. “He wants only Incunabula, though, and that’s +not so easy come by just now.”</p> + +<p>But the hours passed, and no sign of Hugh Curran.</p> + +<p>At last, Loft, looking at the clock, said, “I’m annoyed. I have to go +over to the Club before luncheon, and the time is growing short. I’ve a +notion to send for Curran. I don’t believe he’s still asleep.”</p> + +<p>The butler was despatched to learn as to this, and was directed to be +discreet.</p> + +<p>Discretion itself, Binns returned to say that he could hear no sound +from Mr. Curran’s room and that though he had softly tried the door, it +was locked.</p> + +<p>They waited another half hour, and then Loft said, nervously, “You +don’t suppose anything has happened, do you? Maybe the man is ill.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” said Knox, “Men don’t get ill overnight. He looked a +healthy chap.”</p> + +<p>“All the same, I’m going up myself,” and Loft went out to the hall.</p> + +<p>He soon returned, saying, “There must be something the matter. I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> +knocked and even pounded on his door, but got no response. I even +listened at the keyhole, and I couldn’t hear any breathing. Do you +suppose he left in the night?”</p> + +<p>“Through the window?” asked Angel.</p> + +<p>“Well, it’s queer. If we can’t get anything from him, I’m going to +break in.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t do that!” cried Knox. “Send Binns up outside—to the +windows, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t,—it’s so high.”</p> + +<p>“Ladder?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—but—oh, I suppose it’s all right.”</p> + +<p>But after another hour, Loft declared he was going to get into that +room.</p> + +<p>“I’m responsible for him,” he said; “he’s my guest, and if he’s merely +sound asleep, he can’t do more than curse me for my intrusion.”</p> + +<p>No response being made to continued knockings, and no sound heard by +any of them listening, Loft ordered Binns to get a ladder and climb up +to the window.</p> + +<p>The butler did so, and returned to say that he could see Mr. Curran, +fully dressed, sitting in an arm chair. The window was fastened. +“Should he break in?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, by the door,” said Loft, suddenly determined. “That man must have +had a stroke or something, if he’s still dressed. In his evening togs, +Binns?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> + +<p>“To work, then. You and I, together.”</p> + +<p>Loft and the butler put their shoulders to the bedroom door, and after +one or two efforts burst through.</p> + +<p>Hugh Curran sat in an arm chair, slightly relaxed in posture and as +they immediately discovered, stone dead. The body was cold, proving he +had died some hours previous.</p> + +<p>The four men looked at him and at each other.</p> + +<p>“Method?” asked Ned Knox, grimly.</p> + +<p>Loft looked about him.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see any weapon,” he said, shuddering, “but we can’t think +about that now. There’s too much to do. Binns, call up Doctor Gilvray.”</p> + +<p>“What earthly good can a doctor do?” asked Angel, his blue eyes staring +at the dead man.</p> + +<p>“We have to have him,” returned Loft, positively.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” agreed Knox, “he can tell whether it’s natural death, accident, +suicide or murder.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span></p> + +<p>Angel looked at him curiously as he glibly rolled off these +possibilities.</p> + +<p>“Then,” Loft went on, “we must call the police—”</p> + +<p>“Not unless the doctor says so,” put in Angel. “If he says it’s a +stroke—”</p> + +<p>“That’s so, we’ll wait for his report. Now, the worst is, telling the +women. Ned, you tell Anna and let her tell the others. No, she’s too +emotional. Here’s a better plan. Angel, you ask the maids to get the +Countess to give you an interview. Then you tell her about it, and let +her tell Stella and the Merediths. I’ll tell Pauline, myself.”</p> + +<p>“Are the girls up?”</p> + +<p>“They’d better get up. The housekeeper can tell them to do so, but let +them hear of the—this—from one of us.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose there’ll be fainting and hysterics,” said Bob, +apprehensively, as he started on his unhappy errand.</p> + +<p>“Maybe,—from Stella. Not the others,” said Knox. “I won’t let Anna +make a scene,—not outside our rooms, anyway.”</p> + +<p>The two men went away, and Binns having gone to telephone, Valentine +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span> +Loft was left alone with his dead guest.</p> + +<p>He looked about the room. It was clear that Curran had not begun to get +ready for bed. He had not even removed tie or collar.</p> + +<p>Yet the room was in disorder. Near the dead man’s chair were two books +on the floor, several newspapers, a few scattered cigar ashes, some +bits of torn paper, two lead pencils,—</p> + +<p>Loft’s mental cataloguing of these articles was interrupted by the +arrival of the doctor.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV<br> +<span class="allsmcap">THE MEREDITH STORY</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>“WHO is this man?” asked Doctor Gilvray, sharply, as he strode across +the room to look for himself on the dead man’s features.</p> + +<p>“Hugh Curran,” Loft answered, briefly. “A fairly well-known author of +fiction—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, yes, I know Curran,—sleuth stories,—good ones, too. H’m,—been +dead several hours,—six or eight, surely. Bad symptoms—”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean by symptoms?” Loft showed an eager curiosity.</p> + +<p>“Look at his face—cyanotic. Eyes wide open,—signs of bloody froth on +his lips,—teeth tight clenched,—this man—” the doctor stopped to +sniff at Curran’s mouth,—“yes, this man died of poison,—Hydrocyanic +acid. Suicide?”</p> + +<p>“Good Lord, I don’t know!” Valentine Loft stared. “I scarcely know him +at all,—but, no,—I’m sure he wouldn’t commit suicide,—he had all +sorts of things to live for!”</p> + +<p>“Well—well,—let’s look further. Ah, yes, yes,—it’s Prussic acid, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> +for sure. There’s a distinct odor of it on his lips. So, he either took +the stuff voluntarily,—or, it was administered by someone else.”</p> + +<p>“But—” Loft looked puzzled. “But the room was locked.”</p> + +<p>“That would argue suicide,—but then, I see no container, do you? The +poison must have acted instantaneously, and he would have had no more +than time to fling away the paper or bottle,—scarcely that. He would +more likely have dropped it where he sat. Has any one interfered with +the room in any way?”</p> + +<p>“No one. I’ve been here alone ever since we discovered this. And I’ve +touched nothing,—nothing at all.”</p> + +<p>“There’ll have to be an autopsy,—and, of course, you realize, Mr. +Loft, it’s a case for the police. I shall have to notify them at once.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, what a horrible situation. I’ve a house party here,—and, +aside from that, I don’t want my home invaded by a lot of snooping +detectives—and all for a perfect stranger.”</p> + +<p>“How’d he happen to be here?”</p> + +<p>“The people felt interested in him,—as a sort of celebrity,—and I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> +asked him for a week-end visit. See here,—if anybody did for him, how +did the intruder get in? We had to break in this morning.”</p> + +<p>“One of those seemingly insoluble mysteries of entrance, that always +proves to be a simple matter after all. Any of the servants have a pass +key?”</p> + +<p>“No; and, anyway, the key was in the lock.”</p> + +<p>“Well, that’s outside my jurisdiction. I’ll have Detective Kinney put +on this,—he’s a sharp one. Now, get your household together,—say, in +the library, and I’ll have to question them pretty closely.”</p> + +<p>“Awful nuisance,—but I know it must be done. I wish I’d never seen +Hugh Curran!”</p> + +<p>“Where is his home? Where are his people?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. He hails from Indiana, but I think he lives in New York +just now. The Club people will know all about him. Now, Doctor, Miss +Fuller, my promised wife, is staying here. I want to tell her of this +matter myself. And,—I wish you could excuse her from the general +inquiry—”</p> + +<p>“Can’t be done. Must have everybody present, servants and all. I +daresay some can be quickly dismissed, but I must get all the testimony +possible. It’s a strange case, I think,—though it may turn out a +simple matter after all. Go ahead, Mr. Loft, and tell the lady about +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> +it, and I’ll call Police Headquarters and get busy at once. Is there a +telephone in the hall? Yes? Well, I’ll lock this room door against my +return. Oh, the lock is fairly burst off! Never mind,—I can keep my +eye on it. I don’t want anyone meddling in there.”</p> + +<p>“Here’s Baldwin,” Loft said, as they met Bob in the hall. “Mount guard +in Curran’s room, Angel, while the doctor is telephoning.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t like the job, but I’ll do it,” Baldwin said, a rueful look on +his usually smiling face. “Hurry up all you can, Doctor.”</p> + +<p>Loft went away to seek Pauline. He found her in the pretty sitting room +that belonged to her suite, and though she had not yet been told of the +tragedy, she knew from various unexplained stirrings about the house +that something had happened.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Val?” she asked, “what has happened?”</p> + +<p>Gently he told her the bare facts as he knew them. He had feared she +would be greatly shocked, possibly hysterical, but he was not prepared +for the utter prostration that overtook her.</p> + +<p>She gasped, choked for breath and almost fainted.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> + +<p>“No, don’t call anybody,” she asked, as he started for the door. “I’ll +be all right in a minute. Why—who—who did it?”</p> + +<p>“Pauline, darling, we don’t know that anybody did. It may be the man +took his own life. Doctor Gilvray isn’t certain. And maybe it’s a +stroke of some sort. Gilvray thought he detected the odor of bitter +almonds, but I couldn’t notice it. And the room was locked, and there’s +no bottle or paper to be found,—so I’m inclined to think it may have +been a stroke.”</p> + +<p>“Do you?” Pauline gazed into his eyes. “Do you, really, Val?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, I do. But why are you so concerned? To be sure the +occurrence itself is awful,—coming as it does during this visit of +yours, that was to be such a gay, happy party. But aside from that, +you’ve no personal interest in Curran, have you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, no. Of course not. How could I have? I saw him for the first +time yesterday,—<i>yesterday</i>.”</p> + +<p>“That is so, dear, isn’t it? You never saw Hugh Curran before?”</p> + +<p>“I never laid eyes on Hugh Curran until yesterday,” she averred, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> +almost solemnly, and with a straightforward gaze at Loft. “And I hope I +need never lay eyes on him again.”</p> + +<p>“No, sweetheart, no, of course not. We will have—him taken away just +as soon as possible. But,—I’m sorry,—you’ll have to come downstairs +now, and answer a few questions the Examiner will ask you.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, Valentine! I can’t,—I <i>can’t</i>! Don’t make me do that! +Please, please, dear, if you love me,—don’t make me do that!”</p> + +<p>“I’m not making you, Pauline,—I tried to get you off. But it is +imperative,—it is the law—”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care if it is the law,—I can’t I—can’t—” she broke into +deep, silent sobbing.</p> + +<p>“My precious girl, I’d save you this ordeal if it were in any way +possible to do so. But it isn’t. The detective will come up here if you +don’t go down. And think, Pauline, it isn’t any more than the rest will +do. Anna, Stella, the Countess, the Merediths,—all of us have to do +the same. You will be asked only a few perfunctory questions,—it will +be over in a few minutes. Whereas,” he looked stern, “whereas dear, if +you refuse, it will look strange,—even—suspicious—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, of course I’ll go, Val. I’ll do whatever you tell me to. I only +felt scared and horrified at first. Shall we go now?”</p> + +<p>Suddenly Pauline had regained her poise, and was her own calm self +again. She turned to Loft, her sweet face submissive, even willing to +obey his request.</p> + +<p>“Yes, come now. The others are gathered, I daresay. Don’t talk much, +Pauline. Just answer what they ask, carefully and concisely.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Val, what do you mean? Is there any—any danger—”</p> + +<p>“No, of course not. But it’s never wise to dilate on the subject you’re +asked about. However, tell all you know, of course.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll glance at you, and if I’m doing all right you nod. If not shake +your head.”</p> + +<p>“Very well. Oh, I’m so sorry, Pauline, that you must do this.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind, it’s all right. Come along.”</p> + +<p>Together they went downstairs.</p> + +<p>Their interview had been longer than Loft realized, and the household +had assembled in the library.</p> + +<p>The whole atmosphere of the house seemed changed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span></p> + +<p>Pauline had shuddered as they passed an officer in the hall, and +another was to be seen patrolling the front terrace.</p> + +<p>In the library Doctor Gilvray and Detective Kinney were ready to begin +their inquiries.</p> + +<p>“We needn’t be over formal,” the Doctor said. “First, Mr. Loft, you +will tell all you know of Hugh Curran and how he came to be your guest.”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft stated clearly and concisely the little he knew of the +author, and explained that he had invited him merely because his guests +were interested and also because Mr. Curran had expressed a desire to +talk with Mr. Baldwin on the subject of old and rare books.</p> + +<p>“He wanted to see your collection too, Val,” Angel put in, as if +disclaiming the entire responsibility.</p> + +<p>“Yes,—he said he meant to spend this morning in the library,” Loft +returned, looking about him in rather an awed way.</p> + +<p>“Then that doesn’t point to a suicide,” said the Detective, quickly.</p> + +<p>“No, and it wasn’t a suicide,” Doctor Gilvray declared. “The man was +murdered.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span></p> + +<p>At this Anna gave a gasp of horror, and clutched at her husband’s arm.</p> + +<p>“And you were all discussing murder,—and how it could be done!” she +cried, in an hysterical whisper that ended in a faint shriek.</p> + +<p>“What’s that?” asked Kinney, “all discussing methods of murder? When?”</p> + +<p>“Last night,” said Loft, calmly. “Mr. Curran was a Detective Story +writer and we all talked of such matters to him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, we did,” Stella Lawrence said; “and each chose a different means. +And last night I dreamed—”</p> + +<p>“Now, Stella,” Anna interrupted, “you will not tell your dream, I +forbid it!”</p> + +<p>“We don’t care especially for dreams,” the Doctor said, “we want facts. +Will you each in turn please tell me, if you heard or saw anything +suspicious or unusual,—after you had said good-night and gone to your +rooms? You, Mr. Loft?”</p> + +<p>“Not a thing,” said Loft, promptly. “I closed my bedroom door, and +heard nothing at all till morning.”</p> + +<p>Ned Knox and Angel Bob Baldwin said the same thing, and declared they +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> +had heard nothing whatever.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Meredith was more informative.</p> + +<p>“I did,” he asserted; “I heard footsteps in the hall several times +after I had retired.”</p> + +<p>“You were wakeful?” asked Kinney.</p> + +<p>“I’m a poor sleeper always. Mrs. Meredith slept soundly, and was not +disturbed, but I heard a stealthy tread passing my door, and thinking +it might be some one desiring me I opened my door and looked out.”</p> + +<p>“Whom did you see?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know who it was, but I saw someone just disappearing into Mr. +Curran’s room, and the door closed at once.”</p> + +<p>“You are sure it wasn’t Mr. Curran himself?”</p> + +<p>“I think not, because I heard voices talking. Of course I could make +out no words, of course I didn’t try to do so, but it was either Mr. +Curran or a visitor of his who went in at that door.”</p> + +<p>“The hall was dark?”</p> + +<p>“Dimly lighted by a low light at the farther end. It was fairly dark at +our end.”</p> + +<p>“And this man that you saw—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span></p> + +<p>“Pardon me, sir,” Mr. Meredith’s voice was apologetic, “I didn’t say it +was a man.”</p> + +<p>“Was it not?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.”</p> + +<p>“Ah; could it have been a chambermaid, with fresh towels?”</p> + +<p>“It might have been.”</p> + +<p>“You know it was a woman?”</p> + +<p>“It was a person wearing a long, dark shawl or cape, as if to conceal +the figure. As I say, it was dark, and I could not see her clearly, +but,—yes, if I am asked, I must say it was quite evidently a woman.”</p> + +<p>“You did not recognize her identity?”</p> + +<p>“I did not. As soon as I saw the matter in no way concerned me, I +closed my door and went back to bed.”</p> + +<p>“You heard nothing further?”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps half an hour later I heard Mr. Curran’s door open again.”</p> + +<p>“And the lady came out?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I didn’t open my own door that time. It was none of my +affair.”</p> + +<p>“At what time was this, Mr. Meredith?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span></p> + +<p>“This last time was shortly after half-past two.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know?”</p> + +<p>“The clock in the upper hall strikes the half hours. In my wakefulness +I had heard it strike half-past one, and two o’clock, and this time +it struck half-past two. It was a few moments later that I heard Mr. +Curran’s door open and shut for the second time.”</p> + +<p>“And you didn’t look out into the hall?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Did you hear anything?”</p> + +<p>“I heard light footsteps,—so light as to be scarcely audible.”</p> + +<p>“Passing your door?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; going along the hall.”</p> + +<p>“Then you heard any other door open or shut?”</p> + +<p>“I did not,—though I listened for it.”</p> + +<p>“And you have no idea who the woman was?”</p> + +<p>“Not the slightest.”</p> + +<p>“Was she tall or short?”</p> + +<p>“Neither, especially. I saw only the dim figure, apparently a woman, +with a long shawl or robe that concealed the outlines of her figure.”</p> + +<p>“Did she wear anything on her head?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> + +<p>“I couldn’t notice anything. The light was too faint to discern that.”</p> + +<p>“It must have been a housekeeper or maid taking some forgotten +necessaries to his room,” said Loft, decidedly. “There is no other +explanation.”</p> + +<p>“You can’t make a suspect out of that woman, anyway,” put in Roly +Mears. “For, you see, whoever it was, Mr. Curran locked his door after +her departure.”</p> + +<p>“If Mr. Curran was murdered, he couldn’t have locked his door after the +murderer,” said Detective Kinney, curtly.</p> + +<p>“Nor could the murderer have locked it after himself,” said Bob. +“That’s a hard nut, Mr. Kinney. How are you going to crack it?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not taking the case by that handle,” Kinney said, with a dogged +expression. “I start first with an investigation of the whereabouts and +doings of everyone in the house; next, I look for a motive—”</p> + +<p>“That’s a sorry quest,” Loft said; “no one in this house could have +possibly had a motive for murdering Hugh Curran. There’s an absolute +fact to start with.”</p> + +<p>“Nothing of the sort,” snapped the Countess. “You don’t know, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span> +Valentine, that some of your servants hadn’t a previous acquaintance +with that man,—and, maybe, had some old grudge to pay off,—something +serious enough to call forth such revenge as murder. I had small use +for Mr. Curran myself.”</p> + +<p>“Tut, tut; Countess,” began Roly Mears, but she interrupted him:</p> + +<p>“Don’t you tut tut me! I merely say such a thing is possible, and +Valentine has no right to say it isn’t.”</p> + +<p>“As a matter of fact,” Loft returned, “I wasn’t thinking of the +servants. It is possible in their case, I suppose. But I meant that all +of us, never having met Hugh Curran before, surely had no motive for +murdering him.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve met him before,” said Angel, “but only in the relation of client +and book dealer,—and our transactions were always most amicable and +satisfactory.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t be silly!” and Loft began to lose patience. “I meant and I +repeat it, Mr. Kinney, neither I, myself, nor any of my guests have +had sufficient social acquaintance with Mr. Curran to have felt enmity +toward him or to have any motive for killing him. I trust you will +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> +find out who did it,—if it is a murder; I trust you will prove it +a suicide if it is one; but in any case, I hope you will be able to +remove the body shortly, and to finish up this inquiry as soon as may +be, and leave us to ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“I should be glad to do all that, Mr. Loft,” the detective said looking +serious, “but these things are not so easily disposed of. It is my duty +to investigate thoroughly, and my duty must be done. These inquiries +are necessary as a preliminary measure, and then I shall proceed to the +real work of investigation. Mrs. Knox, I learn that the rooms occupied +by you and your husband are near Mr. Curran’s room also,—did you see +or hear this woman Mr. Meredith tells of?”</p> + +<p>“No, I didn’t,” replied Anna, haughtily, “and he didn’t either. Mr. +Meredith dreamed that or imagined it. Who in the world would be +trailing into Mr. Curran’s room at that hour? Maids don’t take towels +to guests after midnight,—had Mr. Curran wanted any service, the +butler would have looked after him. None of the ladies of our house +party visited Mr. Curran in his room and so I say Mr. Meredith dreamed +or imagined that whole yarn!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span></p> + +<p>“That’s right, Anna,” and the Countess nodded her head, emphatically. +“If any one did go there, it must have been Mrs. Meredith—”</p> + +<p>“Madam!” interrupted Mrs. Meredith’s husband.</p> + +<p>“Why not?” asked the Countess, coolly. “She might have heard the poor +man having a stroke or an illness, and thought she could be of help. +Mrs. Meredith is, of course, of an age when such a kind act would not +be unfitting.”</p> + +<p>“I can assure you, Mrs. Meredith did nothing of the sort. I resent your +implication that she might have done so!”</p> + +<p>“But, Mr. Meredith,” Anna’s tone was velvety though her eyes glittered, +“you laid us all open to that same implication. You declared that some +one of us went into Mr. Curran’s room.”</p> + +<p>“I am not considering the manners or morals of this party,” Doctor +Gilvray said, severely. “As County Medical Examiner, it is my place +to learn all I can regarding this affair. I wish you all to speak as +frankly as Mr. Meredith has done—”</p> + +<p>“Whether it’s true or not?” said Anna, flippantly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span></p> + +<p>“I want only the truth. Mrs. Knox, from your brief acquaintance with +Mr. Curran, would you say he was a man on the verge of committing +suicide?”</p> + +<p>“Most certainly not,” said Anna, promptly. “He had too many irons in +the fire. He was too deeply in love with life. His new book will be +published next week. His recent book, made into a Moving Picture, will +be released shortly, and he looked forward with eagerness to seeing it +on the films. No, sir, last night, that man had no more intention of +committing suicide than I have this minute!”</p> + +<p>“You liked him, Mrs. Knox?”</p> + +<p>“Very much,” said Anna, heartily. “He was entertaining, witty, +courteous,—and, a trifle flirtatious.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, a fine line of virtues. You learned a great deal of him in one +evening.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did. We went for a long walk, and he told me a lot about +himself.”</p> + +<p>“He did! Then perhaps you can tell us of his life,—his home.”</p> + +<p>“He had no home,—I mean no house. He lived at hotels or clubs, rather +a roamer, I gathered,—going from one city to another as the whim took +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> +him.”</p> + +<p>“He was married?”</p> + +<p>“He had been. He was divorced.”</p> + +<p>“Recently?”</p> + +<p>“About six years ago, I think he said.”</p> + +<p>“Do you know whom he married?”</p> + +<p>“He did not mention her name to me. I suppose it could be easily +learned.”</p> + +<p>“I daresay. Did he mention the cause of his divorce?”</p> + +<p>“He did not. We merely touched on the subject. I had no curiosity +concerning the lady. He was simply an amusing companion for an evening. +That’s all I know of Mr. Hugh Curran.”</p> + +<p>“And you know nothing more of him, Mr. Knox?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing whatever, and I wish I knew less! I did not like him at all. I +thought him egoistical and unduly familiar.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, now, Ned,” Angel put in; “don’t show off your asinine +jealousy just now. Curran was all right,—an all-round good sort. +We all know why you don’t cotton to him, but don’t lug it into your +testimony.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span></p> + +<p>“I have no testimony to give,” Knox said, sullenly. “I know nothing at +all of the matter, and I want to know nothing. I hope, with Mr. Loft, +you will arrange to remove the remains as soon as you can do so.”</p> + +<p>“That will be attended to as quickly as possible,” Doctor Gilvray +assured him, and the sapient Examiner smiled to himself at this +exhibition of marital jealousy.</p> + +<p>But indeed, Anna not infrequently gave her faithful and devoted husband +a bad quarter of an hour because of her various coquetries.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.<br> +<span class="allsmcap">ROLY TAKES THE LEAD</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>IT was a wearisome grilling, and it got them nowhere.</p> + +<p>Detective Kinney was logical and consequent in his questionings and +Doctor Gilvray was keen and shrewd in his comments and deductions, but +when it was over nobody seemed to know anything save that Hugh Curran +was dead.</p> + +<p>Some held the opinion that he had committed suicide, others that he was +murdered, but most of the listeners to the scanty evidence were utterly +at sea as to any satisfactory conclusion.</p> + +<p>“It is the old problem, after all,” said Roly Mears, his round, jolly +face unusually grave. “An inexplicable death in an unenterable room. +What’s the answer?”</p> + +<p>“Ned,” Loft said, suddenly, “you said these Sealed Room detective +stories bored you to death because they were so easy of solution.”</p> + +<p>“No, Val, I didn’t quite say that. I said they bored me because I’d +read so many, and the solution was rarely a satisfying one. However, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> +here’s a real problem of that sort right under our noses. It’ll be +queer if we can’t, some of us, dope it out.”</p> + +<p>“I say so, too,” cried Roly. “Let’s do the detective work +ourselves,—under Mr. Kinney’s supervision, of course.”</p> + +<p>He added the last phrase because of a somewhat indignant expression on +the detective’s face.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what,” said Angel, “let’s organize a detective squad +of our own,—us four, you know,—Val, Ned, Roly and myself, and work +independently of Mr. Kinney, but reporting to him any findings or +conclusions that we consider worth while.”</p> + +<p>Kinney looked rather patronizing, but nodded his head indulgently. +“I’ll be glad of any help,” he said, sincerely, but didn’t add his +secret thought, which was that precious little help was likely to reach +him from the quartette of amateur detectives.</p> + +<p>“And remember this,” said the Countess, in her acid way, “you +men were all discussing the ease and grace of certain methods of +assassination,—suppose one of you should turn out to be the criminal.”</p> + +<p>“Such jesting is very ill-timed, Countess,” Anna flared out, “you ought +to be ashamed of yourself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps she isn’t jesting,” said Pauline, slowly.</p> + +<p>“Then she ought to be even more ashamed of herself!” Anna declared. +“Anyway, I’m going to help in this detective business,—I’ve the +instinct, or whatever you call it, myself. I can deduce,—and all that.”</p> + +<p>“So can I,” said Stella. “And I have psychic powers—”</p> + +<p>“We don’t want those,” said Knox. “Deliver me from spook messages about +a mystery. They only make matters worse.”</p> + +<p>“I want nothing to do with it,” Pauline said, decidedly. “And I wish +you men wouldn’t take it up. You’ll only get notoriety and horrid +publicity without accomplishing anything. What can you do, more than +professional detectives can?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, lots,” Roly Mears assured her. “Why, it’s a chance of a lifetime. +You see, while we’re all sorry for the poor chap, yet it isn’t the +grief we would feel for a more personal friend,—and, so, we’re free to +follow up clues and evidences, no matter where they lead. Now, here’s +my platform. The death of Hugh Curran was not a natural death, nor +an accidental one, either. The doctor vouches for that. The man was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> +either killed by another or he killed himself. To my mind, the suicide +theory is out of the question, for the simple reason that no container +of the poison can be found.”</p> + +<p>“Has been found,” corrected Angel. “Perhaps it will yet be discovered.”</p> + +<p>“We haven’t searched Curran’s room yet,” said Roly. “I mean searched it +carefully,—for clues, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Then let’s do it now,” proposed Knox. “If Doctor Gilvray wants to +question us more, later, we’ll all be here. I’ve no intention of +leaving.”</p> + +<p>“I’d like very much to go,” said Mr. Meredith, mildly. “These +unfortunate circumstances are trying to my wife’s nerves, and, I admit, +also to my own. If nobody objects, we’d like to leave on the afternoon +train.”</p> + +<p>“I want you all to do exactly as you please, in that matter,” Loft +said, courteously. “Unless the authorities wish to hold anybody, let +each one feel free to carry out his or her own wishes. Pauline, dear, +do you want to go?”</p> + +<p>Pauline’s face was a study. She looked pitifully at Loft, and seeing +his own evident anxiety regarding her decision, she said, after a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> +moment’s pause; “I’ll stay, please. I know, Valentine, you’ll have lots +of bothers and responsibilities, and perhaps I can share them,—or help +you in some way.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll help me just by your presence,” he assured her, and his smile +of relief told her how glad he was at her decision to stay.</p> + +<p>“I shall stay,” declared the Countess. “It all interests me +exceedingly, and I want to see how the case works out.”</p> + +<p>“I want to go,” Anna said, “and I want to go quick. Ned, can’t we get +off this afternoon, when the Merediths go?”</p> + +<p>“I think not,” said Knox, with so positive an air that Anna began to +pout. She well knew that when her husband’s face assumed that look of +absolute finality, all her pleas and prayers were of no avail.</p> + +<p>Almost always she wound her easy-going husband round her finger, but +when he was determined on any subject, it was not in her power to move +him.</p> + +<p>“Moreover, Anna,” the Countess said, “I doubt if any of these men would +be allowed to leave the place until the mystery is cleared up. You seem +to forget that if Mr. Curran was murdered, it must have been by someone +in the house—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span></p> + +<p>“Nonsense, Countess!” Loft exclaimed, “if you talk like that, I’ll send +you away.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the Countess herself is the criminal,” said Anna, spitefully. +“For all we know, she has known Mr. Curran before. And the veiled woman +that Mr. Meredith saw has yet to be identified.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t say veiled,” Mr. Meredith put in, mildly.</p> + +<p>“Well, shawled, scarfed,—whatever she was,” Anna cried. “Anyway, she +must be named, before we can go much further.”</p> + +<p>“We!” said her husband. “Are you too helping in the detective work?”</p> + +<p>“If you are, Ned. I will take it on myself to hunt out that woman, if +you like.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Anna,” said Pauline, greatly distressed, “don’t mix up in these +awful matters. It’s bad enough to have the men do it, but let us women +keep out of it!”</p> + +<p>“I shan’t keep out of it,” said Stella, decidedly. “I shall stay, of +course, and I know I can help some. You’ll all be glad of my assistance +before you’re through.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you can dream who that woman was,” Anna suggested.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span></p> + +<p>“Perhaps I can,” and Stella looked or tried to look mystical. “I can +sometimes summon dreams that are revelations.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind that part of it,” said Mears, impatiently. “It seems you’re +all going to stay except the Merediths. But you women must keep out of +the actual investigations. If I take the lead in this thing—”</p> + +<p>“Who asked you to?” cried Angel.</p> + +<p>“Since I am taking the lead in this thing,” Mears went on, “I propose +that we first go and take a look at the room. I’m sure that we must +find among Curran’s belongings some hint or clue to the whole matter.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a little unusual to have a band of amateur detectives working +with the officers of the law,” said Doctor Gilvray, slowly, “but in +this very strange case, I’m not sure but it’s a good thing. You men are +shrewd and keen,—you may discover some important evidence. I hope, +Kinney, you will raise no objections.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit, sir. I’m quite ready to accept any help they can give +me. But I must reserve the right to pass on their findings, whether +material evidence or deductions.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span></p> + +<p>“All right, old top,” Mears said, “we agree to that. It’s much better +to work in harmony than to be pitted against you.”</p> + +<p>The body of Hugh Curran had been removed to the establishment of the +local undertaker, and an autopsy had been held.</p> + +<p>The final report of this was brought to Doctor Gilvray, and he read it +to himself before announcing its contents.</p> + +<p>“It’s a bit strange,” he said at last. “The death of Mr. Curran was +positively due to hydrocyanic acid,—which, as you doubtless know, +is Prussic acid,—a deadly poison. This was administered through the +mouth, as the odor was distinct and unmistakable. But no traces are +found in the stomach.”</p> + +<p>“Yet the poison must have been swallowed to produce death?” said Knox +interrogatively.</p> + +<p>“Probably,—yet not quite necessarily. However, I can’t conceive of a +circumstance which would imply the poison in his mouth and not in his +stomach, unless he ejected it at once. And there is no evidence of +that.”</p> + +<p>“Look here, doctor,” Mears said; “reconstruct the case. I hold suicide +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> +impossible, because that poison must have been a powder, in a paper, +or, a liquid, in a vial. Isn’t that true?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Gilvray, briefly.</p> + +<p>“Then as we find no paper and no vial, it must have been administered +by someone else. It must have been done purposely. Therefore it was +murder. There is no alternative. As to how the murderer left the room +locked behind him,—that is the problem we must solve. And no matter +how difficult, it will be easier than to prove a suicide with no +container to be found.”</p> + +<p>“Sounds plausible, Roly,” Angel said, his blue eyes staring into +vacancy, as they always did when his imagination was working. “But +you’ve neglected one theory. Suppose Curran did take the poison +himself, and suppose there was someone in his room later, who removed +the bottle or the paper.”</p> + +<p>“Why would he?” said Mears, thinking hard.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, I’m sure. Only, if a murderer could get out, leaving the +door locked behind him, so could a man who was not the murderer.”</p> + +<p>“That’s surely true, Angel, but I can’t see any reason for it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span></p> + +<p>“We can’t see any reason for the murder,—or the suicide, or whatever +it is,” Loft said; “But, to my mind, we can investigate just the same +before we know which it is,—and so perhaps discover which it is. +Though, first of all, I think we must find out about Curran’s people.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t have to do that, Val; the police are taking charge of it +all.” It was Pauline who spoke, and her voice was infinitely gentle, as +if glad to relieve Loft of any responsibilities.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Kinney told them, “we are making wide inquiries. We’ve sent a +man down to New York to look through Curran’s rooms at the hotel where +he lived.”</p> + +<p>“What about the Country Club up here?” Knox asked. “Is he a member, or +who put him up?”</p> + +<p>“No, he wasn’t a member,” Kinney said; “and he had letters from John +Bingham and Augustus Hedden,—each putting him up for two weeks. It’s +all right that way, but Mr. Bingham and Mr. Hedden are both in Europe, +and we can’t get in touch with them immediately. However, we’ve no +reason to think of Mr. Curran other than as a first class and right +minded gentleman. I’ve sent another officer to his publishers in +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> +New York. We’ll soon learn all about Mr. Curran’s circumstances and +relatives. And of course that knowledge may give us a line on the +criminal. But, so far, we’ve not the ghost of a suspicion of the motive +behind the crime.”</p> + +<p>“That’s what makes it interesting,” insisted Mears. “And there are +queer things about it. For instance, where’s Curran’s watch?”</p> + +<p>“Did he have one?” asked Doctor Gilvray. “There was none on his watch +fob when I looked him over.”</p> + +<p>“He had one on last night,” Stella informed them. “I saw him take it +out and look at it twice during the evening.”</p> + +<p>“So did I,” said Bob. “It was a very thin gold one, on a fob. He had it +in his trousers pocket.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I noticed it,” the Countess offered. “I saw him open it, too. +There was a picture in the case,—a woman.”</p> + +<p>“Could you see it?” asked Angel.</p> + +<p>“Not to recognize it,” the Countess replied. “I only caught a glimpse +of a woman’s face.”</p> + +<p>“And that watch is gone?” cried Kinney. “Then that’s a clue in itself! +The woman took it!”</p> + +<p>“What woman?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> + +<p>“The one Mr. Meredith saw going into Curran’s room.”</p> + +<p>“And she killed him?” asked Stella, her eyes large and bright with +interest.</p> + +<p>“Now, look here,” said Mears, “you’re going too fast. That watch may be +in his room. He may have taken it from his pocket—”</p> + +<p>“Then he left the fob in its place,” said the doctor. “For I took his +valuables myself, and gave them over to Kinney. There was a fob, and +three pearl studs and a collar button,—real gold,—and cuff-links.”</p> + +<p>“Anything else in his pockets?” asked Loft.</p> + +<p>“Only a couple of handkerchiefs and a bunch of keys,—a very small +bunch. Oh, yes, a short lead pencil, and a card or two,—of no +evidential importance.”</p> + +<p>“Evidential importance is a serious thing,” said Mears, didactically. +“You can’t always recognize it at first. Come on, I’m impatient to +examine that room. Now, Kinney you may come, and we four men,—that’s +all. You women cannot!”</p> + +<p>This last was emphatic, because Anna and the Countess had risen quickly +from their chairs with every indication of joining the party.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span></p> + +<p>Anna pouted and the Countess stormed, but to no avail. They were not +allowed to have their way, and the five men went off together.</p> + +<p>The room had not been disturbed in any way. Save for the absence of the +still, stark body they had seen in the easy chair, everything was the +same as they had seen it at the time of the forced entrance.</p> + +<p>“Don’t touch things, boys,” begged Mears. “Let’s work together and +systematically. First, we know Curran had not begun to prepare for bed. +He had apparently sat down in his chair for a time. He had not smoked, +though.”</p> + +<p>“Why, Roly, see the cigar ashes on the floor!” and Loft pointed down.</p> + +<p>“Those he scattered before dinner,” said Mears, imperturbably. “You +see, the ash trays on the table at his side are clean and empty. I know +the chambermaid cleans those when she turns down the bed, I can tell +from my own room. And there are no burnt matches, no stubs of cigars or +cigarettes. So, I know those few ashes on the floor were strewn there +in the afternoon. Curran was an untidy sort, and I daresay the maid +wasn’t overparticular,—or, she failed to notice the ashes. Anyway, I +am sure he didn’t smoke after he came to his room last night. What did +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> +he smoke?”</p> + +<p>This was all self-evident, for had he smoked there must have been a +stub or a match in evidence.</p> + +<p>Kinney looked at Mears with growing respect, and awaited his next words.</p> + +<p>“Now, there’s that little basket of nuts.” Roly stared hard at a +small filigree silver basket on the table. It was half full of salted +almonds. “Where did that come from?”</p> + +<p>“That was on the dinner table,” Loft said, promptly. “I suppose after +dinner, it was on the sideboard,—Binns would put it there,—and +perhaps Curran was fond of nuts and brought it upstairs with him.”</p> + +<p>“Wrong,” said Angel, looking a little amused. “I brought it up to him. +As we all started upstairs, I asked Curran if he wanted anything. And +he said, ‘I’m ravenous for some of those salted nuts we had at dinner.’ +So I went to the dining room, corralled the basket and brought it up +here to him.”</p> + +<p>“Then you were in this room with him?” said Kinney.</p> + +<p>“Yes, stayed fifteen or twenty minutes. He got started on old books, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> +and he would have talked on forever, but I was sleepy, so I told him +I’d discuss the things in the morning.”</p> + +<p>“Describe the whole interview,” said Kinney, briefly.</p> + +<p>“All right,” said Angel. “I brought up the nuts, tapped at the door, +and Curran said, ‘Come in.’ So I came in, and Curran closed the door +after me.”</p> + +<p>“Why did he do that?”</p> + +<p>“I thought it queer myself at first, but he wanted to ask me to get him +a special book, and the details were rather a private matter.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Mears said. “Go on, Angel, did he like the nuts?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, he thanked me, and began eating them. But rather +absent-mindedly,—as to the nuts, I mean,—for he was deeply interested +in the book he wanted me to get for him.”</p> + +<p>“What was the book?” asked Kinney.</p> + +<p>“It is a rare old book,—a Caxton, dated 1485. It is called ‘A Book of +the Noble History of King Arthur.’ Here is the catalogue, you may see +the item.”</p> + +<p>Baldwin picked up a bookdealer’s catalogue from the table, and opened +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> +it at a turned down and well-thumbed page. The item was as he had +stated it.</p> + +<p>“Woodcuts!” exclaimed Loft, his eyes glistening at the description. “I +say, Angel, get it for me, will you?”</p> + +<p>“If you like,” said Baldwin, “and if you want to pay for it. It’s worth +a mint of money.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll have to think it over. Go on with your story.”</p> + +<p>“That’s about all,” said Baldwin. “We talked over the book, Mr. Curran +was most desirous to have it, and I promised to do the best I could +about the price. Then, though he asked me to stay and have a smoke, I +didn’t care about it, and I left him and went to my room.”</p> + +<p>“Did he seem in any way excited or nervous?” Kinney inquired.</p> + +<p>“Not a bit nervous. A little excited about the book. Collectors are +always excited over an important purchase.”</p> + +<p>“And you left him sitting in that chair?”</p> + +<p>“I left him sitting almost exactly as he was found this morning. When +I went out the door, I said ‘don’t rise,’ and he didn’t. I closed the +door behind me. He must have risen later, to lock it, but, apparently +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> +he returned to the same seat,—even the same posture. I have no doubt +he pored over the book catalogue again.”</p> + +<p>“At what time was all this, Mr. Baldwin?” the detective asked.</p> + +<p>“Let me see; we came upstairs shortly after midnight. About +twelve-fifteen, wasn’t it, Val?”</p> + +<p>“About that.”</p> + +<p>“And I daresay I was in here with Curran half an hour, or less. I left +him, I judge at about twenty minutes or quarter before one.”</p> + +<p>“Was he then wearing his watch?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve no idea. If so, he didn’t look at it while I was with him.”</p> + +<p>“He sure was an untidy person,” said Mears, glancing about the floor.</p> + +<p>It was strewed with Curran’s belongings as well as with worthless +trash. Parts of one or two newspapers had evidently been flung aside +after reading, and were in various parts of the room. Near the desk, +Curran had evidently sharpened a lead pencil, dropping the chips on the +rug. Near the dresser, whose top drawer was open, two handkerchiefs, +clean ones, lay on the floor, and two more on the dresser top, while +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> +those in the drawer were tossed in a rumpled heap.</p> + +<p>“He went for a handkerchief, and tossed over the whole lot to find the +one he wanted,” said Kinney.</p> + +<p>“Or to find something he had hidden under the heap,” Mears suggested.</p> + +<p>The detective stared at him.</p> + +<p>“You’re uncanny,” he said; “you’re doubtless right! Why would he go for +a clean handkerchief with two in his pockets?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Roly, you’re the real thing in sleuths!” Knox exclaimed. “Go to +it, boy! We’ll get at the truth yet!”</p> + +<p>“Will you help, Ned?”</p> + +<p>“Of course, all I can. What next, Roly?”</p> + +<p>“Well, here are all these torn papers on the floor near the chair +he sat in. I doubt if they mean much, even if we could piece them +together, for he wouldn’t throw around anything of a private nature. +However, I’ll piece ’em out, and see. Hello, among them is a toothpick +paper,—a printed one. Oh, it’s one of the Country Club ones. Probably +had it in his pocket.”</p> + +<p>“No, he didn’t, smarty!” and Angel smiled at Roly’s earnest face. “I +gave it to him. The man had a predilection for toothpicks,—asked +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> +Binns for one after dinner. Poor Binns nearly threw a fit, but he +dug up a wooden one. So, knowing Curran’s weakness, I offered him a +first-class sealed-paper Club quill, and he was as pleased as could be. +Here’s the toothpick itself, on the table.”</p> + +<p>Angel picked it up, gingerly, looked at it as if it might be evidence, +and said, “Sherlock Holmes would construct a whole man from this.”</p> + +<p>“We don’t want to construct a man from that,” Mears scoffed. “We want +the criminal. Throw that away, Angel, it means nothing.”</p> + +<p>Baldwin went over to the waste basket and even as the toothpick dropped +from his fingers said, “There’s a lot of things in the basket,—better +give ’em the once over, Roly.”</p> + +<p>“They’ll keep. Mostly book catalogues and wrappings off of things. I +glanced at ’em. Well, we’re not getting much of anywhere, are we? Guess +I’ll piece out these torn papers, and see what comes of it.”</p> + +<p>“I see Jackson coming,” announced Kinney, from the window, “he’ll have +news from the Club people. Let’s go down and see him.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI<br> +<span class="allsmcap">WHAT TESSIE SAW</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>AS the others started for the door, Ned Knox touched Mears on the arm +and detained him.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Roly,” he said, “we can’t handle this thing with gloves on, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“Meaning?”</p> + +<p>“That we must look where evidence points,—even if it’s to one of +ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“You or me?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t mean that,—but,—oh, well, there’s no use mincing +matters. Wasn’t Angel the last one known to have seen Curran alive?”</p> + +<p>“There’s the visiting lady—”</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe there was one. Old Meredith dreamed that,—or made it +up.”</p> + +<p>“Why for?”</p> + +<p>“To create a sensation—”</p> + +<p>“Not his rôle. He’s no Thrill Builder. I’m banking on that woman.”</p> + +<p>“Well, anyway, take Angel into consideration. I passed the room while +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> +he was in here and I can tell you he and Curran were quarrelling.”</p> + +<p>“Seriously?”</p> + +<p>“Very seriously. And it was something about a needle.”</p> + +<p>“A needle?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—it may sound absurd, but they were discussing a needle. And may +it not be that Angel introduced the poison by means of a hypodermic +needle?”</p> + +<p>“I’d laugh at your suggestion, Knox, only it does seem as if that might +have been the method used. The doctors could easily have overlooked the +tiny scar it would make. And, do you see, a murderer using that means, +would, if clever enough, touch the poison to the dead man’s lips, +which would explain the odor of acid in his mouth, yet no trace in his +stomach.”</p> + +<p>Mears looked at Ned Knox, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“You’ve built up a case against Angel. Why?”</p> + +<p>“Only because there’s evidence that way,—and no other.” Knox returned.</p> + +<p>“But what motive could Angel possibly have? Curran was a profitable +client,—I know myself, Bob has made a lot of money off of the books +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> +he has sold him. Why kill the goose that lays the golden eggs?”</p> + +<p>“Never mind motive, until you get your man.”</p> + +<p>“No, Ned, never mind the man until you find the motive. However, we’ll +look into Master Bob’s case, and see what we can discover.”</p> + +<p>“There ought to be clues in this room,—more, I mean than we’ve found.”</p> + +<p>“There certainly are enough ‘feathers left around,’” and Roly smiled at +the littered floor.</p> + +<p>“Come on,” called Kinney impatiently from the hall. “I’m waiting to +lock the door.”</p> + +<p>They accompanied the detective downstairs, where Jackson waited with +his report.</p> + +<p>“I found out quite a lot about Mr. Curran,” Jackson began, “yet none +of it seems to amount to much. He was born in Indiana, but lived most +of his later life in California. For the past two years he has been a +writer, but for about six years before that, he was a Movie actor.”</p> + +<p>“Not an Adonis!” observed Mears.</p> + +<p>“No; he played character parts. They say he was fine as an old man. +Well, he gave up the Pictures for a literary life, and made an +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> +immediate hit with his detective stories. He has only been writing them +two years, but he has done three or four that have come well up towards +the Best Sellers line.”</p> + +<p>“What was his real name?” Kinney asked.</p> + +<p>“The Movie People didn’t seem to know,—Dyer or Dwyer, they said. But I +went to his New York publishers, and they told me it was Hugh Dwyer.”</p> + +<p>“Why did he adopt another?”</p> + +<p>“The publisher said, that as he was not sure his first book would be +a success, he chose a <i>nom de plume</i>. Then, when the book proved +popular, he retained the name of Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Plausible enough,—no harm in all that.”</p> + +<p>“No; then I went to one or two clubs he belonged to, and all gave him a +clean record, yet no one knew much about him definitely.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean, definitely?”</p> + +<p>“I mean as to his ancestry, or relatives. I can’t find that he has any +kin whatever. Still, I’ve only just learned the name of Dwyer, so I may +trace by that. I’ve been working on the Curran name.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll have to wire the California people—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span></p> + +<p>“I can’t find any California people. The M. P. Company he was with, +failed and disbanded over a year ago, and it’s next to impossible to +learn any facts from Movie people anyway. They are the most elusive, +evasive folks in the world. Oh, I’ll track down Hugh Dwyer, but it’ll +take some work to do it.”</p> + +<p>“Was he a married man?”</p> + +<p>“Divorced. I found that out, but nobody knows when or why or from whom.”</p> + +<p>“The records would show all that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but what records? You can’t comb the whole United States.”</p> + +<p>“Well, stick to it, Jackson. Had he no chums in New York? No intimate +friends at the Clubs? No women friends? And he had no servants? No man? +Surely he wasn’t absolutely alone!”</p> + +<p>“He seems to have been, Mr. Kinney. He lived at the Grampian Annex and +while they give him A-1 rating, they know nothing of his private life. +The manager told me Mr. Curran often had ladies to dine or lunch with +him, and sometimes small parties, but everything was always decorous +and correct. In fact, he was just a decent man about town, who kept +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> +his own counsel and made a confidant of nobody. At least, that’s all +I’ve got so far. He was fond of the ladies, but I heard no breath of +scandal or unpleasant rumor anywhere.”</p> + +<p>“Exemplary chap,” said Mears. “But the hardest sort to tackle. However, +it’s interesting to crack a tough nut like that. I’ll bet I can find +out a lot about him,—and without leaving this house.”</p> + +<p>“Go ahead, Roly,” Loft said; “I want to find his folks, he must have +some. I feel a certain responsibility, since he died in my house. And I +want somebody to shift that responsibility onto.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you!” said Angel. “It’s a horrid situation. If no one +turns up, shall you bury him, Val?”</p> + +<p>“Have to, I suppose. Or let the Funeral Company take charge of the +whole affair.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry, Mr. Loft,” said Kinney. “The Law will dictate about the +obsequies and all that.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” Loft said, and he sighed wearily. “And I’d be obliged if +the Law would clear up the matter, and find the criminal,—if any,—and +free me and my friends from this exceedingly unpleasant pall of +suspicion that overhangs the house!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span></p> + +<p>“Suspicion!” cried Knox. “Nonsense, Val, who is suspected?”</p> + +<p>“We all are,” Loft returned, “The police have got hold of that fool +conversation we had about methods of murder, and the ease with which it +could be committed, and they think some one of us is responsible for +the taking off of Hugh Curran.”</p> + +<p>“What rubbish!” Angel spoke lightly, but Mears and Ned Knox watched him +closely.</p> + +<p>“It may be rubbish,” said Kinney, stolidly, “but if there’s only one +way to look, we have to look that way. And who can see any way to look +for a murderer outside this house?”</p> + +<p>“But, man, the room door was locked,” Mears exclaimed, still watching +Bob. “How could one of us manage that?”</p> + +<p>“The windows were fastened,” Kinney retorted. “How could an outsider +manage that?”</p> + +<p>“The windows were open a little, at top and bottom,” Bob said, slowly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, but only six-inch apertures, and patent catches held them +immovable. I’ve investigated all that, and nobody could possibly have +entered from outside.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span></p> + +<p>“There’s a balcony beneath the windows,” said Loft, meditatively. “It +runs all along that side of the house.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,” Kinney agreed, “and anybody could have walked along +there. Anybody could even have shot through the six inch opening,—but +no intruder could poison a man that way.”</p> + +<p>“Righto,” said Mears, “I saw all that. And the bathroom window is small +and high and practically inaccessible.”</p> + +<p>“Positively inaccessible,” corrected Kinney. “It’s twenty feet from the +ground, and no window near enough to climb across from. And if anyone +had used a ladder, marks would show on the white paint outside. It is +entirely unmarred.”</p> + +<p>“That window’s too small to crawl through, anyway,” Loft said. “And, +another thing, the night watchman patrols this place thoroughly. No +one could go up a ladder, and remain even a few minutes, and return +by the ladder without being discovered by lynx-eyed old Gideon. No, +cut out all thought of an outside entrance. But that doesn’t preclude +an outsider,—I mean someone not of our own household. An intruder +could, I daresay, have entered the house during the day, and concealed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> +himself until the time was ripe.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that must have been the way of it,” Knox argued. “We don’t know +how he got in and out of Curran’s room, but he did,—so there must have +been some way. I think the absence of Curran’s watch proves a robber.”</p> + +<p>“Why did the robber leave all the other jewelry, then?” asked Bob, but +Knox had no ready reply.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to talk with some of your servants, Mr. Loft,” Kinney +informed him. “I think I’ll get better results that way, than by having +them up here.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll go with you,” volunteered Angel Bob. “I want to get a line on the +servants’ yarns.”</p> + +<p>“Nobody else, then,” decreed Kinney, as Knox rose, too. “I don’t want a +posse.”</p> + +<p>Bob and the detective went to the pleasant sitting room that was +provided for the servants’ use, and summoned the principal ones to +conference. They called them singly, and after the non-committal +testimony of the butler, the second man, the cook, and one or two +maids, they felt disheartened and hopeless of gaining any information.</p> + +<p>But a giddy, flippant little parlor maid gave them a hint of one stone +left unturned.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span></p> + +<p>“I do know sumpthing,” she said, with a toss of her marvellous curly +head; “but I’m not sure I ought to tell it.”</p> + +<p>“You not only ought to, but you must tell it!” Kinney said, sternly; +“out with it, now!”</p> + +<p>But this made the little minx turn stubborn, and utterly unafraid +of the Arm of the Law, she made a face at the detective and pouted +mutinously.</p> + +<p>Angel laughed outright at this picture of dignity and impudence, for +Kinney’s dignity was so offended as to make him look like a collapsing +balloon, and the girl’s pretty face was roguish and stubborn, both at +once.</p> + +<p>He came to the rescue with his inimitable tact and irresistible charm.</p> + +<p>“Now, Rose,—your name is Rose, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, it’s Violet.”</p> + +<p>“Prettier yet. Now, then, Violet, you’re to tell all you know,—or +you’ll be an exceedingly sorry little Violet. Take it from me, my +dear,—if you hold back this information another minute, you’ll be—put +in the lockup!”</p> + +<p>Bob breathed the last three words in a menacing whisper, with a sudden +change from a smiling face to a lowering, threatening countenance, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> +so effective was his manner that Violet jumped in sudden terror.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Bob rubbed it in, “in the lockup,—the jail! No place for pretty +little girls,—all stone walls, and bread and water, and—rats.”</p> + +<p>A shriek from the frightened Violet told of her surrender, and with a +return of his suavity, Bob said: “Out with it now,—my dear. Tell the +story you’re holding back. Does it implicate somebody else?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—that’s it, sir. She’ll kill me!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, she won’t. Hurry up, Violet, the lockup yawns for you!”</p> + +<p>“Well,” she looked fearfully at both men, but started in on the tale:</p> + +<p>“It was Tessie. She—she went out last evening—”</p> + +<p>“Was it her evening out?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, sir. But we’re ordered to be in by eleven o’clock at +the latest,—ten, unless we’ve arranged about it beforehand. +Well,—Tessie,—she—”</p> + +<p>“Get on,” said Kinney, impatiently, “Tessie overstaid her time. How +late was she?”</p> + +<p>“Oh,—she—it was after one o’clock!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span></p> + +<p>“My, my, that <i>is</i> shocking!” Bob exclaimed. “It’s as much as her +place is worth!”</p> + +<p>“Indeed it is,” Violet agreed.</p> + +<p>“Get on,” growled Kinney. “What did she see?”</p> + +<p>“She was so late, she crept in under the side gate,—a slim girl can +just do it,—and then she watched when Gideon was out of the way, +to run into the cellar door,—the one Gideon uses, and she knew she +could get in. So, while she was waiting for the old man to get around +to the other side of the house, she was looking about, and up on the +balcony,—outside the room Mr. Curran had, she saw two people. They +were Mr. Curran and a lady.”</p> + +<p>“Who was the lady?” Kinney shot out.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Knox,” Violet said, frightened into an immediate reply by +Kinney’s scowl.</p> + +<p>Angel gave a short, low whistle.</p> + +<p>“Violet,” he said, “if you ever tell that to another soul, I’ll kill +you,—do you hear? Yes, I <i>can</i> do it. I didn’t kill Mr. Curran, +but I could kill a person if I wanted to, and so sure as you breathe +that to any one, I’ll kill <i>you</i>! See?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” murmured Violet, trembling. “I won’t tell, if you won’t +tell on me!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span></p> + +<p>“That your friend was out late? No, I won’t tell that.”</p> + +<p>“Think a minute, Mr. Baldwin,” and Kinney looked at him patronizingly, +“this isn’t this girl’s secret. It was Tessie who saw the lady, Tessie +who told Violet of it,—and who has probably told all the rest of the +servants by this time.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think she has,” said Violet, casually.</p> + +<p>Angel swore softly to himself. He was decidedly interested in the +pretty, vixenish Anna, and of all people, he hated to have her name +brought into this horrible affair.</p> + +<p>“Of course,” he said, after a pause, “Mrs. Knox had no hand in the +tragedy, she knows nothing of the crime,—if there was a crime,—so, +Kinney, can’t we suppress this bit of gossip? I can square the +servants, if you’ll promise not to use the story at all.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t do that, Mr. Baldwin. But, if, as you say, Mrs. Knox is not +implicated in the case, it can do her no great harm to have it known +that she strolled on the balcony in the moonlight at one o’clock. +That’s not a very late hour.”</p> + +<p>“N-no,—but that isn’t the point. I happen to know that the Knoxes +went to their rooms shortly after twelve. If Mrs. Knox left her room +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> +again,—oh, pshaw,—let’s forget it.”</p> + +<p>“I see; if she left her room again,—it was without the knowledge of +her husband,—they had separate rooms?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Bob, sullenly.</p> + +<p>“Adjoining?”</p> + +<p>“Bath between.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, ho! So, the lady could leave,—her room gives onto the balcony?”</p> + +<p>“I won’t tell you any more. You’re building up a scandal out of what +you said yourself was merely an innocent moonlight stroll. I refuse to +help you drag a lovely lady into this unpleasant affair.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I don’t need your help. Run along, Violet, you’ve done your duty. +Always tell all you know, when the Law demands it. Run away, now.”</p> + +<p>Violet went away, and her attitude was rather that of an important +witness, than of one who had testified against her will.</p> + +<p>Without another word to the furious Angel, Kinney went in search of +Tessie. With a few decisive commands, in the name of the Law, he +reduced her to a state of abject obedience.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span></p> + +<p>She told the story, much as Violet had related it, but she went into a +mass of elaborate detail,—so elaborate, that Kinney suspected a vivid +imagination, in good working order.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” Tessie said, rolling her eyes, as if enjoying her +part, “yes, sir, it was Mrs. Knox,—I know her well. She had on a +bee-yooutiful gown,—dressing-gown,—what they call negglegy, you know.”</p> + +<p>“You could discern that?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I could see the lace ruffles, and the teeny-weeny rosebuds on +it. All ribbony, and chiffony and floaty about.”</p> + +<p>Tessie’s expressive hands waved in illustration of floating draperies, +and so realistic was she, that Kinney felt she must have seen what she +described.</p> + +<p>“They walked up and down the balcony?”</p> + +<p>“No,—that is they did for a minute, then they sat on the balcony rail +and looked at the moon. They sat mighty close together, too.”</p> + +<p>Again the rolling eyes betokened a deep interest and appreciation. +Clearly, Tessie was romantic by nature.</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span></p> + +<p>“Then, Gideon got out of the way, and I skittled into the house, +through his area door, and hustled up to my own room. So that’s all I +know about those two.”</p> + +<p>Bob Baldwin went back to the library, where the men of the house were +assembled.</p> + +<p>All except Knox, who wasn’t there, and his absence gave Bob an +opportunity to speak of what was in his mind.</p> + +<p>“I say, fellows,” he began, “it’s up to all of us to speak out frankly. +I admit that when we all boasted how easy it would be to kill a man, +and then when one is killed right here among us,—I admit, it looks +queer for us all, and it ought to be understood that if there’s +anything—anything at all against any of us, it is to be spoken of and +thrashed out.”</p> + +<p>“Right, Angel,” Mears said, “and as a starter, I’ll tell that you have +been hinted at.”</p> + +<p>“By whom?” and Bob’s question was serious.</p> + +<p>“Well, since we’re all to speak out in meetin’,—by Ned Knox.”</p> + +<p>Angel sighed and looked grave.</p> + +<p>“As he is the one I want to speak about, perhaps our stories will +dovetail.”</p> + +<p>And then, to his friends and cronies, Valentine Loft and Roly Mears, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> +Bob told the story of Tessie’s observations, as retailed by Violet.</p> + +<p>“I knew Anna was making a dead set for him,” Loft said, moodily. +“What a flirt she is! She didn’t care two cents for Curran, really, +he was just a new man for her wiles to work on. She is a vain little +featherhead—”</p> + +<p>“Hold, there, Loft,—I’m fond of Anna,” Bob said with utter frankness. +“Don’t treat her rough.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Angel. But, seriously, if the maid’s story is true, and why +should we doubt it, then Anna did sneak out to the balcony,—probably +after Ned was snoring,—and had her clandestine flirtation with Curran. +Now, if Ned awoke, trailed her, and discovered them,—it would—he +would kill Curran quicker’n a wink.”</p> + +<p>Kinney had entered, and heard this last statement.</p> + +<p>The detective told the men such further details as he had learned from +Tessie, which, of course, was the information that Anna was <i>en +negligée</i>, and that the two miscreants sat close together on the +balcony rail.</p> + +<p>“Not hard to believe of Anna,” Mears declared, “nor of Curran, either. +And no harm done, except in view of later developments. But suppose Ned +did do the irate husband act, how did he get that deadly poison, how +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> +did he get in and out of Curran’s room, and why did he take Curran’s +watch?”</p> + +<p>“I know!” cried Roly. “It was Anna’s picture in the back of the watch!”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! Anna met Curran for the first time, last evening.”</p> + +<p>“Anna’s cute enough to pretend anything.” This from Loft. “That woman’s +a—forgive me, Angel,—but she is as sly and cunning as they come. I +can’t puzzle out the ways and means,—but there’s that difficulty with +any theory or assumption. Also, I won’t even think wrong of Ned Knox, +until he has a chance to speak for himself, but I do say this must be +looked into.”</p> + +<p>“I think the worst against Knox,” Roly put in, “is the way he tried to +implicate Angel to me. He hinted at Bob’s being the murderer,—because, +forsooth, he heard Bob and Curran quarreling over something in Curran’s +room.”</p> + +<p>“That was at half-past twelve,” said Bob, “and after one, Tessie saw +Curran, evidently very much alive.”</p> + +<p>“But it was a good tack for Knox to take, to divert suspicion from +himself,” Roly said, thoughtfully.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII<br> +<span class="allsmcap">THE SISTER ARRIVES</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>“BUT you see, Pauline, darling, Ned Knox is impulsive, belligerent and +pig-headed. If he found Anna out on the balcony flirting with Curran, +he would kill him just as soon as he could manage it!”</p> + +<p>“But how could he manage it?”</p> + +<p>“Somebody managed it. You remember, when we talked about murder, Knox +said shooting was his choice. But, he had no gun, so he had to resort +to poison.”</p> + +<p>“Where could he get it?”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’s one way,” Loft said, slowly. “Angel has an elaborate +photographic outfit in my den. He has poisons there that he uses in his +work—”</p> + +<p>“Why has Bob an outfit of that sort?”</p> + +<p>“He’s an amateur photographer. He doesn’t say much about it, because +everybody is after him to take a photograph. And, too, he has to +photograph title pages or something, in connection with his book +business. In the New York Public Library, they have a whole room for +the purpose of photographing pages of rare books for people who want +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> +them. Bob does this in a limited way. You know, Pauline, he is an +artist in this rare book business. He’s no amateur.”</p> + +<p>“All right. Then, say Ned did get poison from Bob’s laboratory or +whatever you call it, how’d he get it to Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p>“He could get to him easily enough. I suppose Curran would let him in, +if he came to his room later. But, the thing is, how did he get out and +leave the door locked behind him?”</p> + +<p>Pauline looked deeply thoughtful. Her beautiful eyebrows came closer +together as she concentrated on the problem. Her long, slim hands, +clasped in her lap, seemed to tremble with the intensity of her mental +effort.</p> + +<p>At last, she gave a shrug, as if to throw aside a consideration, and +said, “But, Val, that problem confronts every theory. Why don’t you +leave that until you get other data, pointing toward the murderer,—or +the motive?”</p> + +<p>“You’re right, Pauline, and I’m glad to see it so clearly. Now looking +at it that way, Ned had motive,—you know his insane jealousy of +Anna,—also, he had opportunity,—for after two o’clock, nobody was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> +awake or listening—”</p> + +<p>“Except Mr. Meredith.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, old Pop Meredith doesn’t count. Neither does Stella. They’re both +deluded by their subconscious dreams and vagaries.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I think that, too. Well, Val, go on. Did Ned take Mr. Curran’s +watch?”</p> + +<p>“Surely. It had Anna’s picture in it.”</p> + +<p>“Then you think Anna knew Mr. Curran before yesterday?”</p> + +<p>“Of course she did. Anna is a flirt, but no woman would progress so +fast as to arrange a clandestine meeting with an utter stranger, the +first time she saw him!”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—that’s so. And so late,—and in her boudoir gown—it was +that,—I know the rosebudded affair Tessie described.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there you are. Lord knows I hate to suspect Ned Knox,—but +evidence is against him. And, too, he tried to implicate Angel,—to my +mind, that’s against him, too.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I suppose it is. But, Val, dear, must you—prosecute, or whatever +you call it? Can’t you hush it all up?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span></p> + +<p>“Don’t see how we can, Pauly. But I will try to get it all over as soon +as possible. If Ned is guilty,—I feel sure he’ll have the decency to +clear out pretty quick.”</p> + +<p>“If Ned is a—a murderer,—you can’t expect him to have—decency.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you can. His sudden wild impulse, and the consequent act of +crime, don’t change his traits or habits. If Ned Knox proposes leaving +here,—he wouldn’t be allowed to go,—but it would prove to my mind his +guilt—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Valentine, he never did it! He couldn’t have done it!” and Pauline +clasped her hands and shook her head in utter negation of the idea.</p> + +<p>“What are you two talking about?” and the Countess sailed majestically +toward the pair who sat in the swing on the veranda.</p> + +<p>“About Mr. Curran’s death,” said Pauline, calmly. “What do you think, +Countess?”</p> + +<p>“I think Ned Knox killed him. Don’t ask me how or when or which or +what! I don’t know! I only know that Ned was insanely jealous of Anna +and he killed the man who—flirted with her.”</p> + +<p>“Too easy,” Loft said. “Give a dog a bad name and hang him. But if it’s +a human dog, we must prove his claim to the bad name.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span></p> + +<p>“Don’t be too fussy, Val,” the Countess said, shortly, “Ned Knox killed +him, and now all you have to do is to check up the ways and means.”</p> + +<p>“Just like a woman!” said Loft. “Oh, yes, I say so and so is a +murderer. Now somebody will please prove it.”</p> + +<p>“But what do you think, Val?” Pauline asked, her eyes on Loft’s face. +“Don’t you think Ned did it?”</p> + +<p>“No, Pauly,—frankly, no, I don’t!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, fiddle-dee-dee!” cried the Countess, “what does it matter who we +think did it? The thing must be proved—proved!”</p> + +<p>“All very well, Countess,” Loft began, but he was interrupted by Binns, +who announced, “Miss Dwyer is here, sir.”</p> + +<p>“What?” “Who?” and “Good Lord!” his hearers exclaimed, simultaneously, +and immediately followed the butler into the house.</p> + +<p>In a reception room they found a lady, tall, gaunt and aggressive.</p> + +<p>At least, those were the qualifications that sprang first to Loft’s +notice.</p> + +<p>The Countess observed that the visitor was distinctly Middle West as +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> +to voice and manner, and Pauline noted with shocked realization the +tightfitting black taffeta, “travelling dress” the lady wore.</p> + +<p>“I am Hetty Dwyer,” the strange guest announced, rising as the others +entered. “I am the sister of Hugh Dwyer,—known, perhaps to you as Hugh +Curran.”</p> + +<p>“How do you do, Miss Dwyer,” Loft said, at once, and most courteously, +“it is good of you to come.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” she spoke somewhat acidly, “I read of the death of my +brother in the paper, and I hurried here at once.”</p> + +<p>“It is four days since Hugh Curran died,” Loft said, slowly, “and, Miss +Dwyer, he is now—”</p> + +<p>“Buried?” she exclaimed, apprehensively.</p> + +<p>“No; his body is in the receiving vault,—at the undertaker’s place,” +he assured her. “You may see him again,—if you wish.”</p> + +<p>“Of course I wish,” she cried. “My only brother. My loved Hugh. +Certainly I wish to see him again, before he is laid away forever.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, you may,” Loft assured her. “And now, Miss Dwyer, since you +are here, I’ve no doubt you can tell us something that may throw light +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> +on the strange mystery of his death.”</p> + +<p>“That I’m sure I can’t do,” she said, with asperity.</p> + +<p>Miss Dwyer was a tall, angular person, with prominent cheek bones, +elbows and even knees, which indicated themselves inside her scant +skirts. She was perhaps forty, and old looking for her age.</p> + +<p>She had none of the graces or amenities of urban life, rather she +showed the awkward, ignorant demeanor of a country-bred woman.</p> + +<p>But she was shrewd and keen, and absolutely unabashed.</p> + +<p>“That’s why I am here,” she went on, earnestly. “I want to know who +killed my brother. Any idea of suicide is utterly ridiculous—”</p> + +<p>“But, Miss Dwyer,” said Kinney, who was present, “your denunciation of +a theory as utterly ridiculous, doesn’t make it so.”</p> + +<p>“It does in this case,” she declared, calmly, “for I know my brother’s +circumstances and conditions,—and I know he was looking forward to a +new happiness,—to a new phase of his life, that meant, to him, nothing +less than bliss.”</p> + +<p>“And what was that?” Kinney asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span></p> + +<p>“He was about to be married,” she said, with all the awe and wonder in +her voice that accompanies a spinster’s dream of wedlock.</p> + +<p>“Indeed,” Kinney said. “He had been married before, had he not?” Miss +Dwyer’s face changed. It looked scornful, even infuriated.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” she said, “he had! To an utterly worthless woman! A silly, +selfish, peevish chit, who led him a dance, until—”</p> + +<p>“Until he got rid of her?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, well rid of her! That woman was a millstone round his neck! The +happiest day of his life was when their bonds were severed.”</p> + +<p>“You knew her, then?” Kinney asked.</p> + +<p>“I never saw her, thank heaven! But I know how unworthy of him she was! +You see, the whole affair,—I mean his meeting her, their engagement, +their marriage and their divorce, all occurred within a year, within +eight months,—to be exact, and I was abroad for a two-year trip at the +time. But as soon as I returned, and saw my brother again, I realized +how fortunate he was to be released from her.”</p> + +<p>“Her name?” asked Kinney.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t really know,” Miss Dwyer said. “He called her Rose or +Rosalie,—but I don’t think that was her real name. Yet it may have +been. Her surname, I never heard. When I returned, the affair was all +over, a thing of the past, and I never talked to my brother about it.”</p> + +<p>“It all has no bearing on the present problem,” Kinney said slowly, +“unless that wife could have been implicated in his murder,—if it is a +murder.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, I’m sure she couldn’t have been. As I understood matters, she +was even more glad to get freed from him than he from her. They were +totally uncongenial, and each wanted separation.”</p> + +<p>“Doubtless the marriage and divorce are all on record,” Kinney observed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I suppose so,” Miss Dwyer said. “But I’m sure that woman +had nothing to do with it. My brother was an adorer of women, and had +dozens of affairs since his divorce. But, lately, he devoted his whole +life and soul to one girl,—a Miss Fitzgerald, of Chicago. And he +expected to marry her soon.”</p> + +<p>“Can we get in touch with the lady?” Kinney asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t see why not,” Miss Dwyer returned. “Yet, she can’t help you. +I know she loved my brother,—she would have no hand in his taking +off. And if she hasn’t come forward in the matter, it’s merely because +she knows she can be of no help, and she would naturally hate the +publicity.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all true enough,” Loft said, thoughtfully; “yet, it seems we +ought to see or hear from Miss Fitzgerald.”</p> + +<p>“I should think so!” Kinney declared.</p> + +<p>Miss Dwyer wore a hat with one stiff, black quill feather. When she +spoke emphatically, as she almost always did, this feather nodded +sharply and seemed to punctuate her speech.</p> + +<p>It did so now, as she said,</p> + +<p>“It is absurd to think that an interview with Miss Fitzgerald would +be of any help in this affair. On the contrary, Miss Fitzgerald knows +nothing about the awful details, and I beg of you leave the poor girl +in peace. Her grief is hard enough to bear without having the agonies +and distresses of a murder trial on her shoulders as well. Now, I know, +that my brother’s death is the work of some of you people here. You +society people,—frothy, artificial, fashionable puppets, who dance +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> +as Fate pulls the strings! And, if you have a grudge or a fancied +grudge against any one, you snuff out his life with no conscience or +compunction.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Dwyer,” Loft spoke seriously, “I can’t allow that statement to +stand. We are ‘society people,’ as you use that term, but I assure +you we are not given to murdering our fellow-men, or to accepting the +fact of murder, without being shocked by it, and striving to bring the +criminal to justice. I am surprised that you should think otherwise.”</p> + +<p>“I do think otherwise, and your declaration does not move me. I still +believe that my brother came to his end by foul play of some one whom +he trusted and deemed his friend. I am here to prove or disprove my +theory. Mr. Loft, shall I remain here, under your roof, or go to some +inn or other stopping place?”</p> + +<p>“I invite you to stay here, Miss Dwyer, as long as it pleases you to do +so. We are working on the mystery ourselves, and you may work with us +or pursue your independent search, as you choose.”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft was a perfect host, and his courteous manner and bland +speech seemed to affect Miss Dwyer pleasantly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span></p> + +<p>“Thank you,” she said; “I shall be glad to remain here a few days. As +you can readily understand, I am so shocked and upset by my brother’s +death I can scarcely pull myself together. And to be here, on the very +scene of his death, is—is unnerving,—to say the least.”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft, beneath his urbane exterior was a very sharp and keen +reasoner. And as he watched his newest guest, he doubted her sincerity +of grief regarding her brother’s death. She was shocked,—upset,—even +stunned,—but of actual grief or sorrow he saw small trace.</p> + +<p>His conclusions were verified, when, a moment later, Miss Dwyer began +to inquire about her brother’s effects.</p> + +<p>“As I am his only heir,” she said, “of course I am in full possession +of all he left,—in property or assets. I know little about such +matters, but I do know that Hugh’s book royalties and Motion Picture +royalties must amount to a considerable sum,—and all of those are +naturally mine.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” agreed Kinney. “There will, I’m sure, be no trouble about +all that. Now, we want to get at the motive for the murder and the +identity of the murderer. Can you give us any suggestions, Miss Dwyer.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span></p> + +<p>“Only what I have already said. I’m sure Hugh’s death was due to some +acquaintance of his who,—well, I can’t help thinking it was because +of some woman. My brother was capable of sudden and deep passions for +a woman, and even though he was engaged to Miss Fitzgerald, that would +not prevent his violent flirtation with another woman, and through that +he might have been punished by some irate husband or fiancé.”</p> + +<p>The contrast between the prim, prudish old maid, and her sophisticated +talk of her brother’s amours amused the Countess, who laughed outright.</p> + +<p>“You’re a true woman,” she said, “and though unmarried, I daresay +you’ve had your own little affairs,—here and there.”</p> + +<p>“You mistake me, madam,” Miss Dwyer sat bolt upright. “I am above and +beyond all small coquetries or intrigues. I loved my brother,—but I +have never loved any other man. Moreover, I do not enjoy the society of +men. While, here, I will, if you please, confine my associations mostly +to the women, and from them, or through them, I hope to unravel this +mystery.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span></p> + +<p>And so there was another sleuth added to the corps at Valhalla, and +indeed, one, who by virtue of her earnest and patient work, went far +toward the final solution of the mysterious death of Hugh Curran.</p> + +<p>The Countess frankly disliked the new comer. This was not surprising, +for Countess Galaski liked few people, and rarely was amiable to a +woman.</p> + +<p>So she and Miss Dwyer tacitly agreed to be enemies, and each +religiously opposed the other’s opinions or contradicted the other’s +statements.</p> + +<p>“They’re really funny,” Pauline said to Val. “If the Countess should +say two and two make four, Miss Dwyer would bring any number of +authorities to prove it doesn’t.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they’re funny,” Loft agreed, “but I can’t like that Miss Dwyer. +One reason being, she hates me so. I believe she thinks I killed her +brother.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Val, how could she think that?”</p> + +<p>“She can think anything,—and the police can, too. Kinney has been +looking at me askance of late. And, Good Lord, Pauline, which way is +there to look? Here it’s five days since Hugh Curran died under my +roof, and I’m no nearer a theory of his death than we were at first.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span></p> + +<p>“No; but suppose, dear, that it never should be discovered, would it +matter much?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed it would, Pauline. There would always be a cloud over this +place,—over this house,—this home, which I hope will be your home. I +can’t ask you to accept a home with a cloud over it.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t mind that, dear. I’d rather the whole affair would blow over +as quickly as possible,—I hate to hear about it,—to think about +it—oh, Val, let’s go away somewhere until it is all over.”</p> + +<p>“I wish we might, dearest, but such a thing is out of the question. No, +we must face the music,—I must, anyway. But, dear heart, sometimes I +think you’d better go away for a time. It is painful for you,—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you want me here, Val? With you?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I do, Sweetheart! I’m thinking only of you. Pauline, suppose there +should be some important disclosure soon,—some awful fact about one of +our guests—”</p> + +<p>“Anna?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; how did you guess? But there is evidence,—of a sort,—against +Anna—”</p> + +<p>“Valentine, put it out of your mind,—at once! Anna is absolutely +blameless—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span></p> + +<p>“Of the murder,—of course. But she has been—she was—indiscreet—”</p> + +<p>“What did she do?”</p> + +<p>On a sudden impulse, Loft told Pauline his opinion of the story Tessie +had given them.</p> + +<p>She listened attentively, and then said: “I can believe all that,—that +Anna went out on the balcony and met him,—but not that she—”</p> + +<p>“But Pauline, dear, you don’t understand. The theory is that Ned +surprised them out there together, and in his jealous rage, he killed +Curran.”</p> + +<p>“That could be,” Pauline nodded her head thoughtfully. “But I don’t +believe it happened. Anyway, don’t bank on it,—don’t follow it up, +will you, Val?”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t my doing. Roly is working from that angle. He has checked up +Anna’s wardrobe, and has even found the negligée in question,—with +floating draperies and tiny pink rosebuds.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw, every woman has a negligée answering that description,—I have, +myself.”</p> + +<p>“Is that so, Pauline? Is it a usual model? That does seem to nullify +Roly’s clue.”</p> + +<p>“Of course it does. And it’s a silly theory, anyway. Where’s Mr. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> +Curran’s watch? Why would Ned Knox take that?”</p> + +<p>“That’s just the point. Roly thinks Anna’s picture was in it.”</p> + +<p>“Anna’s picture! Ridiculous!”</p> + +<p>“Why ridiculous? That is, assuming Anna knew him before.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense! It was never Anna’s picture.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how you can be so sure.”</p> + +<p>“Why,—I saw him flash the watch open that night, after dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Did he? What for? It was not a hunting case. He didn’t have to open it +to see the time.”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me, Pauline, what do you mean? How did you see the picture?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I didn’t exactly see it, Val, but I did see him flash the case +open and steal a look at the picture. I couldn’t see whose likeness it +was, but I’m sure it was not Anna’s.”</p> + +<p>“Then dear, if you saw it as distinctly as that, you must have been +able to distinguish the features. Was it any one you knew?”</p> + +<p>“No, oh, no. It was—it was the face of a stranger,—a young-looking +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> +girl, with a lot of curly hair. A pretty face, but one in no way +distinguished.”</p> + +<p>“You noted it closely.”</p> + +<p>“Not intentionally. It meant nothing to me. But when it was exposed to +my view, though only for a few seconds, I really saw it plainly, and I +remember it.”</p> + +<p>“You’d know the face if you saw it again?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I’m sure I should. But why so interested, Val?”</p> + +<p>“Only that it’s one of the ‘feathers left around.’ I want to know what +it means.”</p> + +<p>“But the watch wasn’t left around.”</p> + +<p>“I mean the evidence,—the clue of the missing watch, is what we have +taken to calling a feather,—that is a clue.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I see. If you could find out who that woman’s face was, you +think it would help you in your discoveries?”</p> + +<p>“I do think so. Although it may have been the picture of Miss +Fitzgerald,—Curran’s fiancée.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, that might be,” Pauline agreed, but her tone was perfunctory, and +her gaze faraway,—she seemed to be utterly preoccupied. “If he was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> +so interested in that girl,” she went on, “why was Ned so irate about +Anna? He couldn’t have thought Mr. Curran’s admiration of Anna at all +serious.”</p> + +<p>“Ned is a lunatic, when it comes to Anna. I’ve seen him flare up and go +almost crazy if she so much as smiled on a man he disliked. Poor Anna.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t waste your sympathy on Anna,” said Pauline.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII<br> +<span class="allsmcap">LITTLE ANNA’S WILES</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>“IT’S all very well,” said Roly Mears, “for you people to stick by one +another, and to shield one another. But the truth of this thing has +got to come out. I’m friendly enough with all you men, I’m chivalrous +enough toward the women, but all the same, I’m going to dig into this +matter, and I’m going to find out who killed Hugh Curran. But I’ll say +at the start I don’t believe the murderer was you, Valentine, or Angel. +More, I don’t think it was Ned Knox.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think it was?” Loft asked, a trifle disinterestedly. He +didn’t think much of Roly’s powers as a detective and was a little +bored with his talk.</p> + +<p>“I think it was somebody we none of us know. I think he was concealed +in the house somewhere, and late that night he went to Curran’s room, +and Curran let him in.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—go on.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span></p> + +<p>“Then, for reasons of his own he killed Curran,—poisoned him,—and +made a clever getaway.”</p> + +<p>“Leaving the door locked behind him?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Val, leaving the door locked behind him. We know the door was +locked,—we know the murderer must have left it locked behind him,—a +dead man couldn’t get up and lock it. So accept those facts, and then +assume any explanation you please of the locking of that door. I think +it could be done with some sort of an implement,—something like a +skeleton key, that could turn the door key in its own lock.”</p> + +<p>“Have you ever heard of such a thing, Roly?”</p> + +<p>“No; I’m imagining it. But far more wonderful and complicated devices +are made, and I hold that such an implement is not by any means +impossible.”</p> + +<p>“If that could be done,” said Loft, thoughtfully, “it eliminates one +phase of the mystery. If that could be done,—anybody might have done +it.”</p> + +<p>“Only some one versed in the tricks and tools of burglary,” corrected +Mears. “Modern burglars have very up-to-date contrivances.”</p> + +<p>“It wasn’t burglary.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span></p> + +<p>“No, but it may have been a burglarious entrance and exit. And the +motive was, of course, something connected with Curran’s past or +private life, of which we know nothing. That’s why, Val, I’m so keen +to find out the truth. It isn’t so much to avenge the poor chap’s +death, as to clear all of us from suspicion. The police are sure that +one of our crowd did it. Ned, for choice. But they hold that after +that fool conversation you chaps put up, they must find the murderer +among you three. You may as well know how positive they are about this. +They don’t say much to you, but they do to me. And that Kinney is +the most persistent person. He has a dogged stick-to-it-iveness that +nothing seems to dismay. He’s going to interview Anna today and ask her +straight out about that balcony business.”</p> + +<p>“I wish him joy,” Loft said, smiling. “He’ll not get much out of Little +Anna!”</p> + +<p>But in this Loft was mistaken. At that very moment Detective Kinney was +interviewing Anna Knox, and was getting a whole lot of information.</p> + +<p>She had received him in her own boudoir, and with an eye to the setting +of the stage, she was arrayed in a most fetching tea gown and was +ensconced among a pile of soft pillows in the corner of a great divan.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span></p> + +<p>She had chosen her rôle of confidential innocence, and her first words +disarmed Kinney and roused all his sympathy.</p> + +<p>“I’m so glad to see you,” she cooed, raising sad, pathetic eyes to his +stern accusing countenance. “I’m sure you can help me,—and I’ve no one +else to look to for assistance.”</p> + +<p>The blue eyes were so trustful, the rose pink cheeks so soft, and the +red mouth so appealing that Kinney did what many better and wiser men +had done before him, fell for Little Anna utterly.</p> + +<p>From that moment he was her abject slave, he could no more have accused +her,—even suspected her, than he could have his own mother.</p> + +<p>This was in no way his fault,—Nature had given him a susceptible +heart, especially toward a trusting woman, and when Anna’s exquisite +beauty added its charm and her clever brain prompted the way, the man +was entirely defenseless and simply surrendered.</p> + +<p>But Kinney didn’t know this. It was part of Anna’s spell that she made +her victims think they were still masters of themselves when they were +abjectly under her thumb.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes,” she went on, her voice hopeless, her eyes despairing. “I am +in a peculiar position. I can’t ask my husband to help me, for he +is—oh, well,” she dimpled into a fleeting smile, “he is a monster of +jealousy,—and you are man of the world enough to know what that means, +Mr. Kinney!”</p> + +<p>This subtle compliment further subjugated her hearer, and he bridled +a little as he said, sympathetically, “Yes, yes, indeed, Mrs. Knox, I +know.”</p> + +<p>“Now, to get right at the matter, Mr. Kinney, you ask me questions and +I’ll answer them.”</p> + +<p>Anna cuddled among her cushions, looking like a pretty child about to +play an amusing game. And indeed, that was not far from her mental +attitude.</p> + +<p>Kinney pulled himself together. He must be stern, that he knew. He was +dimly subconscious of the situation, and had an uneasy feeling that +he was not quite in command of himself. This nerved him to strenuous +effort, and he said, severely:</p> + +<p>“Then, Mrs. Knox, is the story the maid, Tessie, tells a true one? Were +you with Mr. Curran on his balcony after one o’clock that night,—the +night he died?”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t his balcony,” and Anna pouted prettily. “It’s just as much +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span> +my balcony,—both our rooms are on it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—I know. And you were out on your balcony—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I was,” in a burst of frankness, “I was. The moonlight was so +divine, and I could not sleep, so I slipped on a boudoir gown and +stepped out to look at the lovely scene.”</p> + +<p>“And then?”</p> + +<p>“And then, Mr. Curran chanced to step out of his window, too,—and, as +was most natural, we spoke of the beauty of the night.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Kinney, and gazing at Anna’s face, he imagined Hugh +Curran noting other beauty beside that of the night.</p> + +<p>“And you sat by him on the balcony rail?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, Mr. Kinney,—I did for a moment. Now, I’ll own up to you, +that Mr. Curran was a fascinating man,—and that I—” she peeped at him +from beneath her long lashes, “that I am—at least, I’m called a bit +of a flirt—oh, well, I confess—but there was no crime in that,—was +there?” The blue eyes appealed; “no real wrong in a tiny flirtation? +That isn’t what you detectives want to discover, is it?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span></p> + +<p>“No, no, indeed, ma’am. No, certainly not!”</p> + +<p>“Then you don’t need to say anything about it, do you? You don’t need +to blazon abroad my little teeny-weeny indiscretion?”</p> + +<p>“No, no,—that isn’t necessary—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you good Mr. Kinney! Oh, you dear man! And you promise not to say +anything about it, don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“But—but it is already known. Tessie—”</p> + +<p>“But if you and I deny it, Tessie’s story won’t be believed. If you’ll +say that I denied being out there, and that you believe my denial, +no one can consider the maid’s story at all. It will be entirely +discredited.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see how I can do that—” Kinney looked at her perplexedly. +“You see—”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see anything!” Anna playfully put both hands over her eyes, +“and you don’t either,”—she transferred the soft fingers to Kinney’s +eyes, “and so, let’s forget it all.”</p> + +<p>The touch of her roseleaf hands set the man’s pulses beating, and as +the fingertips left his eyes, and he saw Anna’s roguish, smiling face, +not far from his own, he would have promised her anything she asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t know as it’s important evidence—” he began, heavily.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t evidence at all!” she cried, gaily. “I mean no evidence for +or against your old murder case. Now, you know it isn’t, Mr. Kinney, +and you know you’re going to ignore it all, and you’re going to +leave poor little me out of the question, and then I’ll be happy and +contented. And I’ll owe my happiness to you,—you dear man!”</p> + +<p>She seized his hand in both her own, and dropped a fluttering kiss on +the big red paw.</p> + +<p>This sealed Kinney’s doom, and in a sort of trance, he murmured:</p> + +<p>“What shall I tell them?”</p> + +<p>“Tell them,” Anna directed, “that you interviewed me, and that I +convinced you that I was not out on the balcony at all that night. That +Tessie either made up the story or that she was mistaken. That the +whole matter is of no importance anyway, and that you have other and +more indicative knowledge to work on.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. And what is that knowledge?”</p> + +<p>“He’s eating out of my hand,” thought Anna, jubilantly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span></p> + +<p>“It’s just this,” she replied, gravely. “While we sat on the balcony +rail,—you see, I accept you as a sharer of my secrets,—there came a +knock at Mr. Curran’s door. Only a light, almost timid tap, but in the +silence of the night we heard it distinctly. Of course, he had to go +and answer it, so he returned to his room, and I hastened to mine.”</p> + +<p>“But you lingered,” the detective instinct was still at work, “you +tarried long enough to peep and see who it was?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you wonderful man! How did you guess that?”</p> + +<p>“Who was it?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t see,—but I’m sure it was a woman.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, the shawled woman of Mr. Meredith’s story.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, exactly. I couldn’t corroborate him, for I didn’t want any one to +know I was there. But since you know, and since you’re going to keep it +secret,—I trust you, Mr. Kinney—I feel sure you can trace that woman.”</p> + +<p>“Then I’ll work on that clue, using only Mr. Meredith’s statement and +not telling that it is backed up by yours.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, that’s just what I mean. You see, as I heard that tap, and saw +Mr. Curran open the door to somebody,—that lets me out regarding—oh, +I mean—you can’t think me the murderess.”</p> + +<p>A glance at the baby face was enough to make any such supposition +ridiculous, but Kinney was still rational enough to realize that if +Anna’s story of the tap at the door was a true tale, then she could +have had no hand in the murder herself. And as the time coincided +with the time Mr. Meredith had mentioned, he felt he had no reason to +disbelieve what Anna Knox told him.</p> + +<p>Kinney went downstairs a gladder and a wiser man. He had eliminated one +possible suspect, which was one step in the right direction.</p> + +<p>He found Loft and Angel in the library, discussing old books with Miss +Dwyer.</p> + +<p>It seemed, Valentine had offered to buy some of Hugh Curran’s books +from his sister, whose property they now were.</p> + +<p>And this had roused Miss Dwyer’s easily inflammable suspicions.</p> + +<p>“That’s the key to this whole mystery,” she was exclaiming, as Kinney +entered. “There’s the motive! You two, Mr. Loft and Mr. Baldwin envied +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> +my brother some of his rarities. I’ve heard how wicked and greedy all +collectors are! How they resort to any means to acquire a volume they +have set their hearts on. I’ve been told how they will lie, cheat, +steal, yes, even murder to get a choice specimen. My brother had a +wonderful collection,—I know something of these matters myself. I +know his Black Letter books are among the finest known. I know he had +certain volumes that all the collectors in the country were trying +to get away from him. I know that only a connoisseur in these things +would know the value of his possessions, and would go to any lengths +to get them. Mr. Kinney,” she turned to the detective, “there is your +motive,—my brother was killed because he owned a valuable library. +Now, you find his murderer!”</p> + +<p>Attracted by the loud voice of Miss Dwyer, Stella, who was passing, +came in.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help overhearing,” she said. “And, too,—though I know Val, +you don’t take any interest in dreams,—yet I want to tell you of the +vision I had last night.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span></p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” Loft began, “but Kinney stopped him.”</p> + +<p>“Let her tell it, Mr. Loft,” he counselled. “Though only a dream it may +be of benefit,—there may be a hint in it.”</p> + +<p>“It was so vivid a dream,” Stella said, “that I call it a vision. I +saw a large library,—a room full of books,—it may have been a book +shop, but the shelves were filled with old worn volumes. There were +four men present, but all wore cowls,—such as monks wear. I could see +none of their faces. But one seemed to be the owner of the books, and +the others were visitors. There was much handling and discussion of the +volumes. There also seemed to be quarrelling or ill feeling among the +men. Of only two books could I discern the titles.”</p> + +<p>“What were they?” asked Kinney, as Stella paused.</p> + +<p>“One was ‘<i>Rosalie</i>,’—and one was ‘<i>Mr. S.</i>’”</p> + +<p>“Oh, pshaw,—” Valentine Loft laughed, “those are the two words Mr. +Curran spoke that night he was pretending to be clairvoyant. They meant +nothing, but they stuck in your subconsciousness, Stella, and wove +themselves into your dream.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t remember Mr. Curran’s saying them,” Stella protested.</p> + +<p>“But he did,” Loft returned. “And nobody showed any understanding of +what he meant. He used them at random. I’m afraid, Stella, your dream +can’t help us much.”</p> + +<p>“But I think it does,” Miss Dwyer, exclaimed; “of course you men will +deny it, but that dream goes to prove, to my mind, that my brother’s +murder is the result of his possession of books that another collector +coveted. I have no doubt Miss Lawrence knows or suspects this, and that +is why such a dream came to her. As to the titles of the books, if Mr. +Loft’s explanation of that is the true one, it makes no difference. +Miss Lawrence may have heard my brother use those two words or phrases, +and have entirely forgotten it. Then they returned to her in her dream.”</p> + +<p>“I doubt if Mr. Curran actually made up those words,” Kinney said; +“I think they meant something to him,—even if no one else present +understood them.”</p> + +<p>“Rosalie, I think,—was the name of his wife,” Miss Dwyer said. “At +least he sometimes called her that,—or Rose, or Rosy,—yet it is my +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> +impression they were all nicknames, and not her real name.”</p> + +<p>Angel Bob Baldwin had listened to this conversation mostly in silence. +Now he took the floor.</p> + +<p>“Miss Dwyer,” he said, “you have doubtless heard, as you say, of the +greed and covetousness of book collectors. And, while it is true to a +degree, it is by no means true that they make a practice of killing +other collectors in their zeal. I am, in a way, a book dealer,—though +I have no shop or storeroom. I am more of a commission agent. Yet, +I am familiar with the ways of the collectors, especially the most +important ones. And I know that no one of them would kill a man or +would even resort to dishonest methods to gain a book he desired. +There are some, I daresay, who would do so, but not the important, the +celebrated collectors. Your brother was one of these, Mr. Loft is one. +And I can speak for Mr. Loft when I say that never has he descended to +the slightest bit of underhanded dealing to attain a desired volume. +Nor did your brother. These two men, as well as all of my clients, are +most observant of the rights of fellow collectors. They give me their +bids for an auction sale, or a private sale, and I execute their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> +commissions with the same care and honesty that a broker or banker +would use in financial transactions. I am telling you this, because I +see you are under a misapprehension as to the methods and manners of +first-class collectors.”</p> + +<p>“All very fine, Mr. Baldwin,” the lady returned, “except that I don’t +believe it. I have come here to discover who killed my brother. If it +turns out to be one of you men who threatened him—”</p> + +<p>“Threatened him!” cried Angel. “What <i>do</i> you mean?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m told you discussed murder,—and what was the best method, +and all that.”</p> + +<p>“We did,” Loft said, “but it was no threat,—it was regarding no +intended victim! Miss Dwyer, you must be crazy!”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, I am not crazy, but I am a determined woman. I shall never +rest until I discover the criminal. If the local police cannot +accomplish this, I shall engage a private detective—”</p> + +<p>“Do so, if you wish, Miss Dwyer.” Loft was courteous, as always. “I, +too, should be glad to have the mystery solved.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll help you, Miss Dwyer,” Stella offered. “I’m not sure that a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> +woman’s intuition can’t accomplish more than a man’s skill. At any +rate, I’m glad you do not scoff at my dreams,—for I have too often +proved their truth and value to slight their importance.”</p> + +<p>The two women left the room and Kinney turned to Loft.</p> + +<p>“I want to take up that matter of the woman Mr. Meredith told of,” he +began. “It hasn’t been sufficiently considered, I say. Now, Mr. Loft, +what women slept on that floor that night?”</p> + +<p>“Why on that floor?” objected Loft. “Granting a veiled woman went into +Curran’s room, late at night, she could have come down from the floor +above.”</p> + +<p>“Or up from the floor below,” added Angel. “I hate to seem to asperse +the character of a dead man, but Curran was evidently a woman lover +of sorts. He was, I can’t help thinking,—quite capable of a vulgar +intrigue with a housemaid,—and Valhalla employs some very pretty ones.”</p> + +<p>“It is an unpleasant supposition,” Loft said, gravely, “but I’d rather +think that, than to imagine any of our own people doing such a thing.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> + +<p>“Who were on that floor?” persisted Kinney.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Meredith, Mrs. Knox, Miss Fuller, Miss Lawrence, the Countess, +and Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper,” Loft said shortly. “No one of +those is possible. My housekeeper is a staid, middle-aged person, and +the other ladies are out of the question. If there was a visitor, such +as Mr. Meredith described, it must have been—”</p> + +<p>“Tessie, perhaps,” Angel suggested.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Tessie, if anybody,” Loft agreed. “She is a naughty little +piece,—Mrs. Jennings has often threatened to discharge her. But she’s +a capable chambermaid, and such are not easy to get.”</p> + +<p>“Well, if Tessie did go there that night, she surely didn’t kill +Curran,” Angel said, reflectively. “How could she have done it?”</p> + +<p>“Like most theories, it presupposes previous acquaintance with Curran,” +Kinney said; “whoever killed that man, knew him before. Nobody could +have done it on first acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“Unless it was Ned Knox,” Loft said; “I’m loath to suspect Ned, but you +know, Angel, how impulsive he is,—and how jealous of Anna.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span></p> + +<p>Kinney looked disturbed. He hated to have Knox accused,—he hated any +reflection on Anna.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Knox was the one who advocated shooting,” he reminded them.</p> + +<p>“That’s nothing,” Loft said, “he had no pistol up here,—and, too, it +was less suspicious to choose the method he had not advocated.”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft looked moody and worried. He did not want to accuse +Knox, but he had his own reasons for doing so. The man was beset by +doubts and fears. He felt the fearful responsibility of this misfortune +that had come to him,—and he had a secret cause for anxiety that was +driving him to distraction. If Knox should be proved the guilty person, +Loft, while not exactly glad, would be greatly relieved.</p> + +<p>Miss Dwyer, too, was a nuisance. As Loft was a lawyer, she appealed to +him continually in regard to minor legal questions. She declared she +would not let him touch her brother’s belongings or have anything to do +with the settlement of his estate, but she still pestered him with her +foolish questions and arguments. Miss Dwyer was by no means sure of the +guilt she attributed to Valentine Loft, but she did suspect him, and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> +indomitably she pursued her inquiries.</p> + +<p>No will of Hugh Curran had been heard of, so Miss Dwyer was doubtless +the sole heir.</p> + +<p>Repeatedly Loft advised her to put the whole matter in the hands of a +capable attorney,—but the spinster hesitated, her real reason being +that if Loft should be freed from her suspicion, he was the lawyer she +wished to retain.</p> + +<p>So she stayed at Valhalla, bothering every one, annoying every one, but +serenely unconscious of it.</p> + +<p>The passing days brought no new theories or discoveries on the part of +the police. Their knowledge of the circumstances seemed to be complete +as far as they could make it. No questioning of household or servant +brought any new revelations.</p> + +<p>Tessie, when grilled, seemed to be entirely innocent of any +acquaintanceship with Hugh Curran. The idea of her tapping on his door +that night was the merest surmise. The girl was frank and seemingly +truthful.</p> + +<p>Moreover, Violet vouched for her presence in the bedroom they shared, +soon after half-past one that night.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span></p> + +<p>“She has an alibi,” Angel said, as they discussed it after Tessie had +been dismissed. “An unshakable alibi,—if Violet tells the truth.”</p> + +<p>“If,” said Kinney.</p> + +<p>“I think she does,” Loft declared. “They are good girls, and Mrs. +Jennings says they are truthful. It’s too bad to suspect them with +positively no reason for it.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so,” Kinney agreed; “we must look elsewhere.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX<br> +<span class="allsmcap">PAULINE’S GRIEF</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>KINNEY, away from the lure of Anna’s presence, wondered how he had been +so subjugated by her. The man was soft-hearted but hard-headed, and, +thinking it all over, he began to wonder whether she hadn’t purposely +bamboozled him.</p> + +<p>He began to think that it would be quite possible for her story to +be all true up to the tap on Curran’s door. Or rather to the next +statement, which was that Anna was sure the visitor was a woman.</p> + +<p>Suppose it had not been a woman at all,—suppose it had been the irate +husband, Ned Knox. And suppose Anna, banking on Mr. Meredith’s story +had added her assurance that the caller was a woman.</p> + +<p>The more Kinney pondered over this idea, the more plausible it appeared +to him. He decided not to discuss it with anybody, but to ferret it out +himself.</p> + +<p>For, he had come to the conclusion that the men at Valhalla changed +their mental attitudes from day to day. Loft, himself, now suspected +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> +Knox and the next day he would disclaim all such possibility.</p> + +<p>Kinney concluded finally that he would learn more from the women than +from the men.</p> + +<p>So he set forth on his day’s work by asking an interview with the +Countess Galaski.</p> + +<p>This self-important personage granted the request, and received him in +a small reception room where they could be alone.</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you have come to me at last, Mr. Kinney,” she said, her black +eyes snapping and her over-red lips set in a straight line.</p> + +<p>“You know something, madam?” he inquired, surprised.</p> + +<p>“I may know something and I may not,” she returned, “but at least, I +can give you a hint which way to look.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you will do so, Countess.”</p> + +<p>“Well,—find Mr. Curran’s watch.”</p> + +<p>“That is one of my chiefest endeavors. If you can give me a hint as to +its whereabouts, I shall indeed be grateful.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t do that, Mr. Kinney, but—has it never occurred to you to +search the rooms of the household,—guests, servants and all?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span></p> + +<p>“Why, no,—I confess I’ve not thought of doing that.”</p> + +<p>“It might produce results.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t think so, Countess. Supposing for a moment, any one under this +roof had taken the watch, such a one would, of course, have disposed of +it before this. It’s over a week now, since Mr. Curran’s death, and no +one, I mean no one of criminal intent, would keep any damaging evidence +still in possession.”</p> + +<p>“Nevertheless, it could do no harm to look.”</p> + +<p>“Then advise me a little further. Look where? There’s no use in +searching all the rooms, if you have some knowledge,—some inkling of +where it may be.”</p> + +<p>The Countess pondered.</p> + +<p>“No;” she said, finally. “I can’t advise you. There may be no result +whatever, and in that case, I am not willing to mention any name.”</p> + +<p>“At least, you have given me a new idea, and I thank you, Countess. Do +help me further, and tell me when the rooms,—certain rooms are most +likely to be vacated. I don’t want to advertise this search, as that +would lead to greater precautions.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span></p> + +<p>“You’ll have to watch for yourself. It should not be difficult. Say, if +several go for a motor drive this afternoon, you could go into their +rooms then. Or, there is always opportunity while we are at dinner or +luncheon.”</p> + +<p>Kinney looked at her admiringly.</p> + +<p>“It may seem to you, Countess, that you are instructing me in matters I +should have known myself. But, I admit, a search of the rooms here for +the missing watch, never came into my mind,—and, frankly, I don’t hope +for much from it.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe not,” the Countess smiled, “but it can do no harm. Of course, +you will ignore and forget any thing you may learn not bearing on your +case.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” returned Kinney, sincerely. “I may include your room?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, if you like; though the fact of my proposing this search +would seem to imply my own innocence. However, were I guilty myself, +I’d be clever enough to cook up this scheme,—so go ahead. Search my +room with the rest.”</p> + +<p>Kinney was not quite ready to follow this advice without telling +Valentine Loft of his intentions, so he went at once in quest of the +master of the house.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span></p> + +<p>“Why, of course,” Loft said; “go ahead, Kinney. I hate to have it done, +but if you think it necessary, proceed.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve wondered why you don’t do something of the sort,” said Baldwin, +who was with Loft in the smoking room. “And another thing, Mr. Kinney, +why don’t you check up alibis?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve tried to, Mr. Baldwin, but at two o’clock in the morning an alibi +is a hard thing to prove. Everybody simply says, ‘In bed, asleep,’ and +who’s to prove otherwise?”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” Angel returned. “Mr. Loft and I can vouch for each +other, as I’m rooming in his suite, but most of the others are alone.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just it, sir,” said Kinney. “Even Mr. Knox was in his own +bedroom with the door closed. So his wife can’t swear to his alibi.”</p> + +<p>“Nor he to hers,” observed Loft. “Mr. Baldwin and I can swear to each +other’s presence from one o’clock on, and the Merediths shared a room. +Except for us four, every one roomed alone,—that’s so.”</p> + +<p>“That’s why I feel I must search the rooms,” Kinney stated. “There may +be some evidence against somebody, some unexpected clue—”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, there may be,” Angel said; “and here’s another thing. I want +to look around Curran’s room a bit more. His sister has taken away +his personal belongings, but I think there might be some clues in the +waste basket or on the tables or floor. Roly Mears fancies himself as a +detective, but the boy doesn’t get anywhere. So, if you’ve the key, Mr. +Kinney, let’s run up there a few minutes.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir, I’m willing. Come along.”</p> + +<p>The two went up the great staircase, and as they turned into the +corridor that led to the room Hugh Curran had occupied, they almost +fell over pretty Tessie, the maid, who was stooping, her ear at the +keyhole of a door.</p> + +<p>“Here, you!” cried Kinney roughly, putting out his hand to snatch her +away. “What do you mean?”</p> + +<p>But to his surprise, instead of looking frightened, Tessie drew herself +upright, and finger on lip, motioned Kinney to listen himself at the +keyhole.</p> + +<p>Surprised into acquiescence the detective did so, and, listening +intently, he heard a woman’s agonized sobs.</p> + +<p>More, he heard broken snatches of sentences, cried out in agony, as if +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> +irrepressible wailings of a broken heart.</p> + +<p>“If I could only forget!” were the words that came to him, scarcely +breathed, almost inaudible, yet he was just able to catch them.</p> + +<p>“I will forget!” she went on, after another short period of intense +grief. “I must—I will forget!”</p> + +<p>And then—in a clear, ringing triumphant voice, “I have forgotten, +yes,—I have forgotten!”</p> + +<p>Though not loud this was so unmistakably a desperate resolve, a +determined achievement, that Kinney could almost see the conquering +smile that must have accompanied it.</p> + +<p>And yet, the next instant, the speaker broke down again, and sobbed as +if her heart would break.</p> + +<p>Feeling ashamed of himself, Kinney stood up, and taking Tessie’s arm, +drew her along with them, and the three entered Hugh Curran’s room, as +Kinney unlocked the door.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said, closing the door, pushing Tessie into a chair, and +standing over her with a lowering face.</p> + +<p>“Now, what do you mean by eavesdropping like that?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> + +<p>“It was this way, sir,” and Tessie was no whit embarrassed. “That’s +Miss Fuller’s room, and I went up to make it up, sir. At the door, I +thought I heard her crying, and I thought I’d better not intrude. I +stooped to listen, to make sure she really was crying, and then you +came along.”</p> + +<p>“That’s all right,” Angel said, nodding at Kinney. “Tessie is a +chambermaid on this floor and it was her duty to report for work. If +she heard Miss Fuller crying, she did right about hesitating to enter, +and though I can’t condone listening at keyholes, it seemed the natural +thing to do. Is anyone else in the room?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” said Kinney, slowly. “Either there is, or Miss Fuller +was talking to herself. She was certainly in deep distress.”</p> + +<p>“Some one ought to go to her!” exclaimed Bob. “Some of the women.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so,” Kinney demurred. “She seemed in trouble of her own. +She was saying, ‘If I could only forget! I must forget!’ That sounds +like a personal, a private sorrow. I think it better not to intrude. A +little later, Tessie may go in,—and perhaps she can be of assistance +in some way.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span></p> + +<p>“Miss Fuller has been like that before, sir,” Tessie volunteered. +“Twice, I’ve found her crying when I went to help her dress for dinner.”</p> + +<p>“What was her explanation?” asked Kinney.</p> + +<p>“The first time,—she said some dust had flown in her eyes from the +window. But I think she knew I didn’t believe that. The second time, +she said nothing,—just bathed her eyes and let me dress her without a +word.”</p> + +<p>“Then she won’t resent your presence now. Run along, Tessie; if you +can get in, do all you can for her. If not, come back here and tell us +about it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Kinney,” and the astute maid went away.</p> + +<p>“That girl knows a lot,” said Baldwin. “She’s either a good faithful +servant, or she’s a wily, canny fraud. I don’t know which.”</p> + +<p>“She’s both,” said Kinney, sapiently. “She’s a good servant,—Mr. Loft +says so,—but she’s mighty cute. Little goes on that she doesn’t see.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she saw Mrs. Knox on the balcony,” Angel reminded him.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe she did,” and Kinney remembered his promise to Anna. +“I think she made that yarn up.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span></p> + +<p>“Good for you,” cried Baldwin. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I’d hate +to believe any wrong of Mrs. Knox. But get busy, Kinney, and help me +look round this place. Hello, where’s the book catalogue gone?”</p> + +<p>“Which one? Here are two.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, they’re little ones. But there was a big one, it was here that +morning,—when we found Mr. Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want it? I suppose it can be found. Probably Mr. Loft took +it,—or maybe Miss Dwyer. She wants to sell the books of her brother, +you know.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter. I can get another like it. Now let’s hunt the waste +basket. There are always clues in a waste basket. Or, I’ll look in it, +while you search the bureau drawers. I can’t help feeling there are +clues to be found in his room.”</p> + +<p>Bob bent over the basket and Kinney obediently searched the drawers of +dresser and chiffonier.</p> + +<p>“Nothing doing,” the detective said, at last, turning to the other. +“You found anything?”</p> + +<p>He smiled at the heap of litter Bob had turned out on the floor.</p> + +<p>“No,” was the perplexed reply.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span></p> + +<p>“Looking for anything in particular? You seem disappointed.”</p> + +<p>“I am disappointed, but I’m not after anything in particular. Except I +hoped to find some letter or note that might tell us something. Come +on, I’ve searched all I want to. I don’t think so much of waste basket +clues after all. I can find no ‘feathers left around’ at all.”</p> + +<p>They went away, and a slight pause at the door of Pauline Fuller’s room +brought no sound to the ears of the detective.</p> + +<p>“All quiet in here now,” he said, rather soberly, as they went +downstairs.</p> + +<p>And at the luncheon table, Bob, to his surprise, found Pauline in +an unusually gay mood. She was talkative and animated, and her good +spirits infected the others, until the atmosphere became more cheery +and bright than it had been since the occurrence of the tragedy.</p> + +<p>Luncheon over, Bob took possession of Little Anna and carried her off +for a stroll in the gardens.</p> + +<p>“I just want to tell you, dear,” Angel said, “that I, for one, do not +believe that yarn of Tessie’s about you.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span></p> + +<p>“You blessed Angel!” and Anna gave him her loveliest smile. “I’m glad I +have at least one friend at court.”</p> + +<p>“And so,” Bob went on, “that lets Ned out as a suspect. For though you +did make a few eyes at Curran during the evening, that wasn’t enough to +rouse jealous old Ned to the killing pitch.”</p> + +<p>“Of course it wasn’t,” and Anna beamed satisfaction. “Now, Angel, who +did do it?”</p> + +<p>“Anna,—look here. Ned is out of it,—I’m vouched for by Valentine +himself, so I’m out of it. Now, there’s only one left of the trio who +discussed ways and means—”</p> + +<p>“Val himself!” said Anna, softly. “But why, Angel, for Heaven’s sake, +<i>why</i>?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,—but,—oh, Anna, I can’t say it,—but do you think, can +you imagine that Pauline knew Curran before?”</p> + +<p>Anna looked both serious and frightened.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t think so, Angel, only,—when Mr. Curran did that mind +reading stunt,—Pauline did look self-conscious.”</p> + +<p>“At what?”</p> + +<p>“I think it was at ‘Mr. S.’ You know, Hugh Curran flung out ‘Mr. S.’, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> +and ‘Rosalie,’ and—now, Angel, don’t kill me! but I felt sure that +Pauline turned white and gripped at her chair arms when he said, ‘Mr. +S.’ and—yes, I will tell you,—I thought you did, Bob, when he said +‘Rosalie’! Did you?”</p> + +<p>“Did I? I did not! I never knew anybody named Rosalie in my life. +I never heard the name except in some general way. But, Anna, that +‘Rosalie’ has been explained. It seems it was his wife’s name, or +nickname. His sister said so.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—I know. But he didn’t say it that night because it was his +wife’s name. Nobody here ever heard of his wife. He used it to tease +somebody and I thought it might be you.”</p> + +<p>“Well it wasn’t. Maybe Val knows some Rosalie person,—or maybe your +Ned does,—I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“Ned doesn’t either, I asked him. Well, it’s no matter anyway. But I’m +positive Pauline was upset at the mention of ‘Mr. S.’ and that’s why I +thought maybe she had known Mr. Curran before. Or maybe she knew some +‘Mr. S.’ who also knew Mr. Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe,” said Bob. “Anyway, Pauline was in high spirits at lunch time.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> + +<p>“Put on,” and Anna wagged her head sagaciously. “I know Pauline,—and +the worse she feels, the gayer she acts,—I mean, if she doesn’t want +people to know.”</p> + +<p>Baldwin thought of Kinney’s account of Pauline’s grief that morning, +and he wondered.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure, Anna?” he inquired.</p> + +<p>“Positive. And, too, I know Pauline had been crying. She had on an +extra touch of rouge, but she couldn’t entirely correct her reddened +eyelids. Whatever was the matter, she cried over it. Then she made a +very careful toilette, dressed her hair and fixed up her face with +greatest care,—but she couldn’t fool me. She had had one good big cry +this morning, that I know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, well, I suppose you women all have your ups and downs.”</p> + +<p>“Of course, and it’s enough to make Pauly cry to have all this horror +here, so shortly before her wedding day.”</p> + +<p>“Is the day set?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite, but it will be inside a couple of months. That is, it would +have been. I don’t know whether this horrid business will postpone it +or not. But, Angel, nobody seems to get anywhere. Why is nothing being +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span> +done?”</p> + +<p>“It’s a hard nut to crack, Anna. And the wheels of justice move +slowly—”</p> + +<p>“They don’t move at all! I’m trying to get Ned to take me away.”</p> + +<p>“He can’t, Anna, until he is freed from suspicion.”</p> + +<p>“Ned! Suspicion! Ridiculous!”</p> + +<p>“Ridiculous, I grant, but that Dwyer woman holds that all of us, Ned, +Val, and myself are under suspicion, because of that fool talk we had—”</p> + +<p>“But you’ve just said Val can prove your alibi.”</p> + +<p>“I know,—but I can’t prove his. You see, the house was crowded that +night, and I went into Val’s suite. I slept in his bed,—he would have +it so,—and he slept on the couch in his sitting room. So,—the way the +rooms are,—he could go out into the hall if he wished, and I wouldn’t +know it,—unless I heard him—”</p> + +<p>“The door was closed between you two?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and the room he slept in opens out to the hall, but the bedroom +where I was, doesn’t. So that, if he stepped carefully, he could easily +go out and return without my knowing it; whereas, I couldn’t get out +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> +to the hall, without going through the room where he slept. And he’s a +very light sleeper,—so there’s my alibi. Besides, I didn’t go out, or +try to go out at all.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you didn’t. Why would you kill Curran?”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t the why, Anna, it’s the who? Why would Val kill him? And yet, +if it really was one of us three, and if you take Ned out, and if Val +proved my alibi, there’s no one left but Val.”</p> + +<p>“Rubbish, it never was Val!”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t think it was either.”</p> + +<p>Yet it was not long before Angel Bob had an opportunity to revise his +opinion.</p> + +<p>On their return to the house, Roly Mears beckoned to Bob, excitedly.</p> + +<p>“Come on, old chap,” he said, in a low tone; “come on, quick.”</p> + +<p>Leaving Anna with the others, Bob followed Roly, who took him to the +library, where Kinney was waiting.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Kinney has found something, Angel,” Roly said. “I don’t want to +tell Val, or anybody, until you hear about it. Tell him, Mr. Kinney.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span></p> + +<p>“While you were all at luncheon,” Kinney began, his face expressing an +unwillingness to divulge the secret he had, “I made some search among +the bedrooms. I hated to do it, but it had to be done. I looked in the +ladies’ rooms first, so as to be sure to get that done while they were +absent, and in the rooms of the Countess, Miss Lawrence and Miss Dwyer, +I found nothing of any informative importance. But,—when I went into +Miss Fuller’s room,—I did.”</p> + +<p>“What did you find?” asked Baldwin. He tried to make his voice casual +but it shook a little in spite of himself. Was the beautiful Pauline to +be dragged into this miserable business?</p> + +<p>“I can’t think it was anything incriminating,” he added.</p> + +<p>“It seems to me it is, sir,” and Kinney looked as sorrowful as Angel +himself.</p> + +<p>As he spoke, he handed over to Bob a watch.</p> + +<p>It was gold, very thin, and it had no chain or fob attached.</p> + +<p>He took it mechanically. Before he examined it at all, he knew it must +be Hugh Curran’s watch, and the conviction jarred him terribly.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span></p> + +<p>“It is Mr. Curran’s?” he asked, staring at the timepiece.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Mr. Baldwin. Hidden in a small desk which was locked.”</p> + +<p>“And which you pried open?”</p> + +<p>“And which I opened with a skeleton key. I had to. It was necessary in +the interest of justice.”</p> + +<p>“Damn you and your justice! How dare you break into a lady’s locked +desk?”</p> + +<p>“Softly, now, Mr. Baldwin. That is the duty of a detective. And +the fact of its being there, locked up, proves it a secret of Miss +Fuller’s.”</p> + +<p>“Secret nothing! If this watch was in Miss Fuller’s room, it had a +right there. Mr. Curran must have given it to her.”</p> + +<p>“Very good, sir. That may be. And, now, Mr. Baldwin, if you’ll just +look at the picture in the watch case—”</p> + +<p>Unwilling, yet urged on by the impatient glances of both Kinney and +Roly Mears, Angel Bob clicked open the back of Hugh Curran’s watch.</p> + +<p>And found himself looking on the beautiful face of Pauline Fuller.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span></p> + +<p>Stunned, aghast, he quickly snapped it shut, and stared at Mears.</p> + +<p>“What does it mean?” he whispered. His bravado was gone, his face took +on a frightened pallor. Angel was emotional, his quick mind saw into +the past, turned, saw into the future, and both looked so black, he +groaned aloud.</p> + +<p>“Val!” he cried, in anguish, “Valentine! Oh, Pauline!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X<br> +<span class="allsmcap">CURRAN’S WATCH</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>IT was a moment before Baldwin could pull himself together.</p> + +<p>“I can’t seem to sense it,” he said, musingly. “That watch,—hidden in +Miss Fuller’s room! Oh,—I see,—it’s a plant!”</p> + +<p>“A plant?” inquired Roly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,—somebody has done it to drag Pauline into this mess,—or, the +criminal is trying to divert suspicion from himself—”</p> + +<p>“Herself!” Mears exclaimed; “if your suggestion is true, that’s a +woman’s trick! And, it may be mere mischief—do you suppose Anna—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, hush, Roly,” Bob exclaimed. “Why harp on Anna?”</p> + +<p>“But there’s more to this than meets the eye. You see, Angel, if Ned +killed Curran because he flirted with Anna, then Anna is going to use +every means to turn suspicion from Ned.”</p> + +<p>“It looks like that to me,” Detective Kinney agreed. “To my way of +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span> +thinking, Mr. Knox is the only one who seems to have a motive—”</p> + +<p>“<i>Seems</i> to have,—perhaps,” Roly said; “but anybody else may +have a motive of which we know nothing. Ned Knox is impulsive, +impetuous,—but I can’t believe he’d murder,—just because of a +flirtation—”</p> + +<p>“We don’t know, Mr. Mears,” Kinney reminded him, “just how serious +that flirtation was. Men <i>have</i> killed other men, when they found +them—”</p> + +<p>“Never mind,—don’t speculate,” Roly said; “now, Angel, what is the +thing to do,—regarding the watch, I mean?”</p> + +<p>“Take it straight to Val,” Baldwin replied, promptly. “It’s the only +thing to do. We can’t speak of it to Pauline,—I don’t for a minute +believe she knows a thing about it—”</p> + +<p>“Now, now, Mr. Baldwin, I think she does,” Kinney spoke gravely. “It’s +all very well to hold a lady above suspicion,—but I can’t see how the +murderer could get that watch into Miss Fuller’s locked desk—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t speculate, let’s find out. I say, show the watch to Mr. Loft, +tell him the whole story, and do as he says. Give him the first chance +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> +to clear Miss Fuller—for, she must be cleared.”</p> + +<p>“I’d rather put it up to the lady herself,” the detective demurred.</p> + +<p>“Well, you can’t.” Angel Bob was dominating. “If she knows nothing +of it, we must find out who does,—and if Miss Fuller is in any way +implicated, it will come out soon enough. Mr. Loft is the right one to +go to, for he will want to shield Miss Fuller from any unpleasantness +possible.”</p> + +<p>Kinney looked a little surprised at the methods that seemed to obtain +among gentlemen, but he was willing to take the matter to Valentine +Loft, and said so.</p> + +<p>“Come on, then,” and with the amazed look still on his face, Baldwin +led the way.</p> + +<p>They found Loft and beckoned to him, and the four men went into the +library and shut the door.</p> + +<p>“What is it?” Loft asked; “anything new?”</p> + +<p>His lean, strong face looked careworn, his expression was not +hopeful. As a matter of fact, he was pretty well bowled over by the +misfortune that had fallen on his house. He dreaded any solution of the +mystery,—for he could conceive of none that would not implicate some +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> +of his friends or guests, and he wanted, most of all, to be rid of the +whole business.</p> + +<p>But a glance at the faces of those about him now, showed him that there +was something of importance to be divulged.</p> + +<p>“Out with it,” he said; “you have found something, I see.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Kinney, “we have found Hugh Curran’s watch.”</p> + +<p>“Whose picture is in it?” Loft asked, quickly. “Anna’s?”</p> + +<p>He bit his lip, annoyed at his own impulsive question. He wouldn’t have +minded Bob and Roly, but he was truly sorry to have made the suggestion +before Kinney.</p> + +<p>However, the detective showed no interest in Anna’s name, but he +watched Loft closely as he handed the watch to him.</p> + +<p>Snapping open the back case, Valentine Loft saw the picture of Pauline.</p> + +<p>It was not a recent one,—clearly it had been taken a few years since, +but it was unmistakable.</p> + +<p>The beautiful smiling face was happy and even roguish. A different +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> +Pauline from the dignified, gracious woman they knew,—a girl Pauline, +almost childish in her innocent smile.</p> + +<p>Loft gazed as if hypnotized.</p> + +<p>Had it been less tragic it would have been almost comical to note the +mild wonder in his face as he turned it to his two friends, ignoring +the detective entirely.</p> + +<p>“Where do you suppose Curran ever got Pauly’s picture?” he said; “such +a good one, too,—when she was a little girl,—almost.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t mean anything to you, then, Mr. Loft?” Kinney asked, +staring hard at him.</p> + +<p>“Mean anything? It means that somehow Mr. Curran became possessed of +Miss Fuller’s picture,—and as it was so beautiful, he kept it.”</p> + +<p>“She didn’t give it to him?”</p> + +<p>“She never saw him until she met him here. She told me so herself.”</p> + +<p>The calm finality of Loft’s tone left no room for doubt of his utter +belief in his fiancée’s word.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Loft, I’m sorry to tell you that I found the watch, hidden +in a locked desk in Miss Fuller’s room.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span></p> + +<p>“Who put it there?” Loft’s tone was quiet, but the men who knew him +could see a gleam come into his eye.</p> + +<p>“We don’t know,” Kinney spoke almost gently, “but in my opinion, Miss +Fuller put it there herself.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Kinney,” Loft spoke very sternly, “if you mean she did so with +some unexplained but innocent intent, very well. If, however, you are +implying or suggesting a shade of doubt or suspicion of Miss Fuller—in +any way,—you will answer to me for it! How dare you,” he went on, as +Kinney’s face told plainly that he had his suspicions, “how dare you +even speak the name of that lady in connection with wrong-doing of any +sort? I—I could kill you where you sit!”</p> + +<p>“Now, Val,” Angel interrupted, “don’t sling around any more remarks +about killing! We’re too careless in the way we use that word. You’re +not going to kill Mr. Kinney,—and you must listen, if he has any +theories to offer. Good Heavens, man, his words,—whatever they might +be,—couldn’t hurt Pauline!”</p> + +<p>“No; but they hurt me! They infuriate me! I won’t have it! Retract, Mr. +Kinney, or leave my house this instant!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span></p> + +<p>“I haven’t said anything yet,” Kinney reminded him; “and, too, Mr. +Loft, as an agent of the Law, I can’t be ordered out of a house, even +by its owner.”</p> + +<p>“Law or no law, I’ll put you out myself, if you mention the lady’s name +again,—in any connection whatever!”</p> + +<p>“Why, Val,” cried Mears, “I’ve never seen you excited before! Don’t +take it like that!”</p> + +<p>“There’s only one way to take it,—to quash it!” Loft stormed on; “I +repeat, if you found that watch in Miss Fuller’s room,—it was put +there by some evil-minded individual, either to make trouble for Miss +Fuller, or to save his own skin! The murderer of Hugh Curran put it +there, I have no doubt,—and as to why or how he did it,—I don’t know +and don’t care! I will say, however, Mr. Kinney, that you have done +nothing since your arrival,—that you have discovered nothing. That you +are making trouble instead of curing it, and that unless you agree to +drop this particular phase of the matter I shall take steps to have you +removed—in the name of the Law!”</p> + +<p>“Fine talk, sir,” said Kinney, who grew calmer as Loft grew more +excited. “Fine talk, but it gets you nowhere. Why not face facts, Mr. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> +Loft? Why not accept the fact that I found the watch,—as I said,—and +let me confront Miss Fuller with the fact, and receive her doubtless +satisfactory explanation of its presence in her locked desk.”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft looked at the speaker with a glance of utter disdain.</p> + +<p>“You shall never have an interview of any sort with Miss Fuller,” he +said, more quietly than he had yet spoken. “If the watch must be shown +to her, or discussed with her,—I will do it,—no one else may.”</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid I’ll have to insist on being present at that interview, Mr. +Loft,” and the detective shook his head doggedly.</p> + +<p>“You shall not! You sneaking, spying—”</p> + +<p>“Now, Valentine,” Angel Bob seemed almost alarmed, “let up on all +that. I know how you feel about Pauline, but can’t you see, man, that +all your bluster and anger doesn’t help her cause any? In fact, it +strengthens any possible suspicion against—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t dare say it, Bob!” Loft’s eyes were blazing, and he turned +on Baldwin in fierce anger. “I am blustering,—I know it. I never +blustered before in my life,—I never had occasion to! But this!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> + +<p>Loft stopped suddenly, and again looked at the picture in the watch +which he still held in his hand.</p> + +<p>As he gazed, his face softened, his features relaxed into a half smile, +and he said, at last:</p> + +<p>“This must have been taken when Pauly was a school girl. She can’t be +more than eighteen, here. I daresay she gave it to some school chum, +and Curran got possession of it merely as a fancy picture. For he never +knew Pauly. I’ll go to her,—she’ll tell me all about it,—but you must +let me go alone, Mr. Kinney. I’ll agree, on my honor, to tell you all +she says, but I really don’t want an audience to our conversation.”</p> + +<p>Loft had calmed down to his usual composure, and his voice was tranquil +again. Having hit on what seemed to him an adequate solution of the +picture in Curran’s watch, he was ready to treat Kinney in his former +friendly manner.</p> + +<p>The two men were not at all congenial,—the detective’s blunt business +manners were distasteful to Loft’s suave culture, but if Pauline’s name +could be stricken from the detective’s slate, Loft would let him run +his own gait in peace.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span></p> + +<p>“Will you go and inquire about the matter at once, Mr. Loft?” Kinney +asked.</p> + +<p>“I will do it during the afternoon, Mr. Kinney. Not just at the moment, +for I chance to know that Miss Fuller has gone to her room for a nap. I +am not willing to disturb her,—it is her habit to rest after luncheon. +But I will arrange to see her this afternoon sometime, and I will take +up the subject with her. Meantime, I will keep the watch.”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Loft, I will keep the watch. It is a piece of material +evidence,—at least, as things stand now.”</p> + +<p>“A feather left around,” said Roly, smiling. “Let him keep it, Val,—he +has the right to.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” and Loft handed the watch back to the detective, +with a faint shrug of his shoulders, as if, after all, the incident was +of small account.</p> + +<p>“You’d do well to adopt a maxim of mine, Kinney,” he said. “It is, ‘Do +nothing and all will be done.’ Ever hear it before?”</p> + +<p>“No, and I never want to again. I’d get nowhere at all, if I worked on +that line, Mr. Loft.”</p> + +<p>“That’s where you make your mistake. There are many times when a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> +masterly inactivity brings about the best results. This is one of +them. Do nothing in that watch matter,—it will all be done. I’ll meet +you here, say, at five o’clock,—it’s three, now,—and I’ll prove my +statement.”</p> + +<p>And with this Kinney was forced to be content.</p> + +<p>Unable to find better company he attached himself to Miss Dwyer.</p> + +<p>She was always ready to talk to him, but he rarely gained any +information from her.</p> + +<p>This time, however, she had something on her mind.</p> + +<p>“I have a theory, Mr. Kinney,” she said, her pale blue eyes blinking +with earnestness, “and it’s this. You see, my brother was killed by +somebody in this house. None of the servants did it,—that’s too +ridiculous! So, it was some of the household themselves,—or guests, +I mean. Well, not one of them knew my brother, or had any personal +motive to kill him. But, he was a great and successful book collector. +So, I am sure the motive was possession of his rare volumes. To you +this may seem an inadequate motive,—but I assure you it is not. I +know, Mr. Baldwin says that the big collectors don’t kill to get the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> +treasures,—but he may be mistaken in this instance, and, too, Mr. Loft +isn’t a very big collector.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, so it’s Mr. Loft you are favoring with your suspicions, is it? +But, Mr. Baldwin is also interested in books.”</p> + +<p>“Not in the same way. You don’t know about such matters, I +daresay,—but the collector’s mania is really a dangerous thing. Mr. +Baldwin wants books to buy and then to sell to another customer. He +doesn’t have that craving to possess that besets the collector. It is +a desperate covetousness, an insane envy that leads to any lengths to +get the desired book. I know, for I know how it affected my brother. +He never committed crime, but I know,—ah, I know that he resorted to +means not—not strictly honorable.”</p> + +<p>“All very interesting, Miss Dwyer, but we have no evidence. You see +both Mr. Loft and Mr. Baldwin were in their rooms all night, after one +o’clock or so.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve only their word for that.”</p> + +<p>Kinney looked at her, startled. It was true,—if Loft and Baldwin had +been disposed, they could have acted in collusion, and could have +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span> +accomplished the deed more easily than any one else. If there were any +way to get in and out of that locked door, Loft would know about his +own house.</p> + +<p>Kinney had sneaking suspicions of a secret passage somewhere, but his +closest scrutiny had been unable to find any trace of such.</p> + +<p>He put Miss Hetty’s suggestion away in his brain to think about later, +and said:</p> + +<p>“What does Mr. Curran’s fiancée look like?”</p> + +<p>“Just a pretty young thing.”</p> + +<p>“Does she look at all like Miss Fuller?”</p> + +<p>“Not the least mite,—almost her opposite. Why?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing. Why didn’t he carry her picture in his watch?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Maybe he did. I’m told his watch was stolen from him, +wasn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“It was missing when the body was found,” Kinney evaded, “but he might +have put it away himself.”</p> + +<p>As the pair talked, a few others had come out on the terrace, and the +Countess, passing, heard the word “watch.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span></p> + +<p>“Found it?” she said, quickly, seating herself by Kinney. “I told you +to look for that watch.”</p> + +<p>“Why,”—and Kinney looked at her curiously.</p> + +<p>“Because it might easily prove indicative. And I know you’ve found it, +Mr. Kinney! Your countenance is not always under control, and I’m sure +you’ve found it! Where was it?”</p> + +<p>Kinney was taken aback, but he was quick-witted at times, and he +replied, easily:</p> + +<p>“No such luck, Countess Galaski. It may turn up,—but I searched +several places without success.”</p> + +<p>Miss Hetty Dwyer, never at ease in the presence of the caustic Countess +had walked away, and glancing around to be sure no one else was +listening, the Countess went on:</p> + +<p>“You would do well, Mr. Kinney, to take me into your confidence. I +could be of real help to you.”</p> + +<p>Kinney was a little weary of offers of help from women, but he never +dared neglect a possible bit of assistance.</p> + +<p>“I’ve nothing particular to confide, ma’am, but if you’ve any helpful +information it’s your duty to give it out.”</p> + +<p>“Not information,—merely advice. And here it is,—if you want it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> +bluntly. Beware of that little Mrs. Knox. I know how she is pulling +wool over your eyes—”</p> + +<p>“What?”</p> + +<p>Kinney was so surprised that he quite forgot his manners.</p> + +<p>“Yes,—that’s just what she does to everybody.”</p> + +<p>“Ah,” Kinney thought to himself, “feminine jealousy.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care how much she flirts or with whom,” the lady went on, “but +I want you to be on your guard when she comes to giving you information +about—about that night.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know all she can tell me,” Kinney shrugged his shoulders. +“Know all about that balcony episode, and while it may be a straw +to show which way the wind blows,—I don’t think it is. Nor can I +see her husband in such a rage that he would poison the man who was +flirting with her. In a frenzy of jealous passion a man might shoot or +stab,—but he couldn’t poison.”</p> + +<p>“Rubbish!” the Countess snapped. “I don’t say that he did,—but it’s +foolish to say that he couldn’t. Whoever gave that poison to Mr. +Curran did it in some diabolically clever manner. Yet it was done. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> +Now, one could do it as well as another.”</p> + +<p>“How about some one interested in books?” Kinney asked, remembering +Miss Dwyer’s talk.</p> + +<p>“I think it’s as plausible a motive as jealousy,” the Countess replied. +“But why bother with motive,—find your criminal and then you’ll know +the motive.”</p> + +<p>Kinney smiled. “I’d be glad to find either criminal or motive. It’s the +most ungetatable case I ever handled. I can suspect everybody yet I can +suspect nobody. Every one is apparently frank and outspoken, yet also +everybody is unwilling to talk about the case.”</p> + +<p>“Of course nobody wants to talk about the awful affair if it can be +helped. But I’m sure we all want to tell you anything you may wish to +ask.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then, Countess Galaski, do you suspect any one,—any one at +all?”</p> + +<p>After a pause, the Countess said, slowly: “Yes, I think I do.”</p> + +<p>“Will you tell me who it is?”</p> + +<p>“It is ‘Rosalie’.”</p> + +<p>“But—‘Rosalie,’ that is the name of Mr. Curran’s divorced wife. She +isn’t here.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span></p> + +<p>“I don’t mean Rosalie in person,—I mean the one who was in Mr. +Curran’s mind, when he spoke the name of Rosalie that night.”</p> + +<p>“But,—I’ve heard it rumored that Mr. Baldwin was disturbed when Mr. +Curran mentioned that name.”</p> + +<p>“The rumors are wrong then. It was not Mr. Baldwin who was +self-conscious at the name of Rosalie.”</p> + +<p>“No? Who was, then?”</p> + +<p>“That I shall not tell. I may be all wrong,—I wouldn’t for the world +attract attention to the wrong person. But, take my word for it, +Mr. Curran had no thought of Bob Baldwin, when he said, ‘Rosalie.’ +I thought Mr. Baldwin looked a little annoyed at the name of ‘Mr. +S.’ But I’m not sure. I may be mistaken as to that. But to return to +my well-meant warning, don’t believe all Mrs. Knox tells you. She +is a spiteful little cat, and while she is not exactly in love with +Valentine Loft, she takes delight in trying to stir up trouble between +him and Miss Fuller.”</p> + +<p>“She hasn’t succeeded as yet,” said Kinney, remembering Loft’s valiant +defence of his fiancée.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span></p> + +<p>“No,—but she will if she can. She’s a little devil,—loves mischief +for the sheer fun of it!”</p> + +<p>“Pleasant character!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, she’s so pretty and charming and innocent of appearance she is +beloved of all.”</p> + +<p>Kinney went off by himself and found he had plenty to meditate upon +until five o’clock, when he was due to meet Loft in the library.</p> + +<p>He went there, and found the master of Valhalla waiting for him. No one +else was present, and Loft carefully shut the door.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Kinney,” he began, “I am in very grave trouble. As I promised you, +I tried to obtain an interview with Miss Fuller. But Miss Fuller has +gone away.”</p> + +<p>“Run away!” Kinney almost shouted.</p> + +<p>“Gone away,” I said. “Pray, be quiet. I am myself at my wits’ end, but +I realize it is necessary to consider very carefully our next step.”</p> + +<p>“Our next step is to find Miss Fuller.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad you agree with me. It certainly is. Now, Mr. Kinney, will you +undertake to find her? Or would you prefer that I should get another—a +private detective to do that? Also, I want no publicity. I want it +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> +given out that Miss Fuller has gone home for a rest,—or, gone away on +a visit. I do not want it known that her departure was made hastily and +secretly.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t keep it so dark, Mr. Loft. We can’t find her without +publicity. Look at the thing yourself. We find the watch in her +possession, locked in her desk. We take the watch,—she discovers it is +gone and she seeks safety in flight. What’s the answer?”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft showed none of the indignation and anger he had +displayed in the morning.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know the answer,” he returned, quietly; “but I do know Miss +Fuller. She may be the victim of distressing circumstances, but there +is no stigma of wrong possible in connection with her name. Now, she +must be found. How shall we set about it?”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI<br> +<span class="allsmcap">PAULINE’S FLIGHT</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>LOFT had sent for Angel, feeling that he wanted a friend to confer with.</p> + +<p>“Pauly’s gone away,” he said briefly, as Baldwin entered the library.</p> + +<p>Angel gave him a quick glance, but said, merely,</p> + +<p>“Where to?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Loft returned. “In fact, Angel, she went without my +knowing it. I tried to find her just now, but she has gone off in the +little car.”</p> + +<p>“Who took her?”</p> + +<p>“Bates, and Tessie went with her. The housekeeper told me all this but +she knew nothing more. Bates ought to be back by this time, if Pauline +went to the Railway Station, and the housekeeper thinks she did.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we can’t wait for any Bates,” Kinney broke in, impatiently. “I +know, Mr. Loft, how you hate publicity and all that, but Miss Fuller +has been doing queer things——”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span></p> + +<p>“What do you mean by queer things?” Loft spoke quietly, but there was +a steely gleam in his eye that Angel knew meant battle. “Miss Fuller +has done nothing that you know of. You have no proof that she took Mr. +Curran’s watch, or that she ever saw the thing. There is a deep-minded +criminal behind all this business, and it is not a woman. Some daring +and ingenious villain entered my house, killed Hugh Curran and tried to +fasten the blame on Miss Fuller. That’s the way I see it.”</p> + +<p>“And that’s the way I should see it, if I were the young lady’s +intended, as you are,” Kinney returned, dryly. “But being a +detective,—not a great one, but at least, a clear-headed one, I say +that when a ‘feather left around’ is hidden in her own bedroom, and +when it is taken from its hiding place, she misses it and immediately +disappears herself;—then my clear-sightedness leads me to think she +ought to be looked up.”</p> + +<p>“No one wants to ‘look her up’ more than I do,” Loft said, earnestly. +“And, as a bit of disinterested advice, Kinney,—”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, Mr. Loft, you’re not capable of giving disinterested advice +just now. And, excuse me again, I don’t want it. My duty is to find +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span> +Miss Fuller. My intention is to do it in my own way.”</p> + +<p>“But, I say, Kinney,” Angel put in, “if Mr. Loft wants to find the +lady, I’m sure his method of search will be more successful than any +you can attempt.”</p> + +<p>“Sure you may be, sir, but that makes no difference to me. I know my +duty, and I’m going to do it. Now, it’s true, the hunt for Miss Fuller +may mean publicity, may mean police procedure, but I’ll promise you +this, I’ll keep it as quiet as I can. If you want to help,—where do +you think she’d go, Mr. Loft?”</p> + +<p>“Here’s the car,” Angel cried, looking from the window. “Bates can +surely tell us something.”</p> + +<p>Bates and Tessie were called in, and Loft asked the chauffeur what Miss +Fuller had said.</p> + +<p>“She sent Tessie to me,” Bates replied, “and said she’d like the little +car to go to the station for the four-forty-five. So I was at the +door, and she and Tessie got in the car, and we went to the station. +There she bid me get her a ticket to New York and a chair. I did that, +and then when the train came in she got on it. That’s all I know, Mr. +Loft.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, Tessie,” the detective spoke this time, “what can you tell us +about Miss Fuller’s journey?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing, sir,” and though not impertinent, Tessie looked mutinous.</p> + +<p>“Detail all she said to you, as she prepared to go,” Kinney ordered, +sternly.</p> + +<p>“Why, she only said, ‘I’m going to New York, Tessie. Pack me an +overnight bag.’ And I did.”</p> + +<p>“What did you put in it?”</p> + +<p>“Only her night things and toilet articles.”</p> + +<p>“No dresses? No jewels?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, just enough for a night’s stay,—without dressing for dinner.”</p> + +<p>“H’m,—looks bad. Now, didn’t Miss Fuller say a word,—while you were +helping her dress,—about her plans?”</p> + +<p>“Not a word, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean she said nothing at all,—or nothing about her plans?”</p> + +<p>Tessie considered. “I don’t remember her saying anything at all. If she +did it was only to direct me what gown she wanted to wear,—or what +shoes.”</p> + +<p>“What did she wear?”</p> + +<p>“A black Canton crêpe, with cape to match,—and a black hat with a +small veil.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span></p> + +<p>“Inconspicuous costume,—naturally. She took a lot of money with her?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. She always carries a small handbag which she packs +herself.”</p> + +<p>“All her money and jewels in that, of course. Well, Mr. Loft, I doubt +if you’ll see Miss Fuller again very soon.”</p> + +<p>“Is that your opinion, Mr. Kinney? Be good enough not to express it to +me again. Tessie, you may go. Wait a moment, tell me,—did Miss Fuller +say nothing at all that gave you any indication of why she went, or how +long she meant to stay?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir, not a word.” Tessie’s eyes filled with tears and she resorted +to her handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“And,” Loft’s voice shook a little, “did she give you any—any message +for me? You may speak right out before these gentlemen.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, she did!” and now Tessie sobbed openly, “she said to tell you +‘Good-by,’ that’s all, sir, just ‘Good-by.’”</p> + +<p>“Very well, Tessie, you may go.”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft had perfect control now of his voice, and he nodded a +dismissal to Bates, who stood at attention.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span></p> + +<p>But Angel could read the despair in his eyes, the distress in his +tense-drawn lips, and he knew that his friend’s soul was tasting the +torments of hell.</p> + +<p>Yet Loft turned a calm face to Kinney, and said, “What is your plan? +What would be your idea of efficient search?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you, sir. We know the lady took the four-forty-five to New +York. We’ve only to wire the police authorities along the route to hold +her if she leaves the train before she reaches the city. She won’t, +though. In all probability, she’ll make straight for the metropolis, +knowing she can lose herself there easier than in a small town. She’s a +deep one,—that one!”</p> + +<p>“Omit your comments on the lady, if you please, Mr. Kinney.” Loft’s +tone was icy but his eyes blazed fire.</p> + +<p>Angel looked at him with some apprehension, for he feared a real +explosion if Kinney irritated him much further.</p> + +<p>“All right, sir. Nothing personal meant. Well, say we head her off +in New York, and then just have her followed,—that’s better than an +immediate arrest.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, much better,” said Loft, in such a dry way, that Angel turned +quickly to look at him. And the slight smile on Loft’s face puzzled him.</p> + +<p>“You see, Mr. Loft,” Kinney went on, “I’m interested in Miss Fuller +for more reasons than one. I may as well tell you that I heard her +sobbing and weeping in her room,—and crying out, ‘I must forget! How +<i>can</i> I forget?’ and after a time, as if by sheer will power, ‘I +have forgotten!’ Now, I can construct a pretty little theory, that in +a girlish flirtation, Miss Fuller once gave her picture to Mr. Curran, +and——”</p> + +<p>“Go, Mr. Kinney,” Loft rose and pointed to the door; “go, and take +your pretty little theories with you! I may see you later,—though I’d +rather not, unless absolutely necessary,—but in any case, I can’t +stand any more just now. Go.”</p> + +<p>The upraised voice, the steady, pointing finger, rather awed Kinney, +for there was no touch of melodrama about Loft. He merely had reached +the end of his rope, and said so.</p> + +<p>As the door closed behind the detective, Angel asked:</p> + +<p>“Why did you smile, Val?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span></p> + +<p>“At that fool detective. You know, Pauly never went to New York. If +she took a ticket for New York it’s a dead certainty that she left the +train after a few stops, and went the other way,—to Boston or Albany. +I know Pauline so well, that I can read her mental workings. If she +wants to disappear,—and it must be, Angel, that she does,—then she +would do it more cleverly than any one in the world.”</p> + +<p>“You’re right,—of course. But what does it all mean, Val?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,—but it is serious, very serious. I shan’t let Kinney +know I think it so, but it is. Any advice, Angel?”</p> + +<p>“Not yet,—maybe I can dope some out. But all my sympathy, old chap, +and all my help,—at least, all my efforts. What can I do?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I never in my life felt so helpless. What’s all that +about Pauly’s crying in her room,—and wanting to ‘forget’?”</p> + +<p>“Do you suppose,—you know, Val, if I’m to help we must be entirely +frank,—do you suppose she did know Curran before?”</p> + +<p>“I know she didn’t,—for she told me so.” Loft spoke simply. “I shall +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> +always believe her word against all the witnesses or evidence in the +whole world. If she had known Curran before, she would have told me so.”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” said Angel, but his acquiescence was based upon his desire +to agree with his friend rather than on his faith in feminine candor.</p> + +<p>“What about that Rosalie and Mr. S. business,” Loft went on, wrinkling +his eyebrows. “I’ve never spoken of it before, but it seemed to me +Pauly winced at one of those names.”</p> + +<p>“Which one—?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t remember. Mr. S., I suppose,—there’s nothing to alarm a woman +in another woman’s name.”</p> + +<p>“Was she alarmed?”</p> + +<p>“Not quite, but I’m so sensitive to any change of expression on +her face, that I thought I observed a little tremor of surprise or +annoyance. It probably meant nothing,—”</p> + +<p>“But it would presuppose a knowledge of Curran in some way,” Angel +added, meditatively. “Suppose she did know him before, Val; suppose she +didn’t tell you of it,—would it make any difference in your feeling +toward her?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span></p> + +<p>“In my feeling toward Pauline! I should say <i>not</i>! Why, if she +told me all the lies in the catalogue,—or wherever lies grow,—it +would make no difference in my feelings toward her! She couldn’t do +it,—Pauline is incapable of a real lie,—but if she did,—I’d love her +exactly the same,—more, if it were possible,—which it isn’t. You see, +Angel, you don’t know from experience what love is. The kind of love I +mean. The love that is only possible between—”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know,—two souls that beat as one.”</p> + +<p>“No, two souls that know how to beat as one. My boy, all hearts can +love,—but only hearts that have accompanying brains can get the most +and best out of love.”</p> + +<p>“Well, as long as you have faith in her—”</p> + +<p>“Which will be as long as I breathe. Nothing could ever rock my faith +in Pauly. She knows this,—and that is why her disappearance alarms me. +That is why I know it is very serious. She knows I would forgive her +anything—”</p> + +<p>“Even murder?”</p> + +<p>“It’s hard to forgive you that speech, Angel,—but, yes, even murder. +It would be a poor love that wouldn’t forgive crime. That would be +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> +easier to forgive than some other things.”</p> + +<p>“Such as?”</p> + +<p>“Deception,—untruthfulness—”</p> + +<p>“Lying—”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—real lying,—with intent to deceive me. But I would forgive +Pauline that,—anything,—<i>anything</i>—”</p> + +<p>“Then she will come back.”</p> + +<p>“No,—she will not come back. She told Tessie to tell me good-by. But I +shall find her.”</p> + +<p>“She might have told Tessie to say that; if she was merely off on a +short errand.”</p> + +<p>“No; she has told me twice,—that if ever she disappeared suddenly, and +sent me the mere message, ‘Good-by,’ that I never should see her again. +I only laughed at the speech,—but I see now that she meant it.”</p> + +<p>“Then she had a secret, Val.”</p> + +<p>“It may be.” Loft looked straight into Angel’s eyes. “Now to find her,” +he said, after a moment’s pause.</p> + +<p>“Where do you think she can be?”</p> + +<p>“I know where she is.”</p> + +<p>“And you can find her?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span></p> + +<p>“No; but I know this. She started on the New York train. She got off at +some way station. She crossed the tracks and took a train on the other +side, in the other direction, and after travelling some time she will +get out at some inconspicuous town or village,—where she knows some +friend who will hide her successfully for as long as she wishes to be +hidden.”</p> + +<p>“Good Heavens, then how can you find her?”</p> + +<p>“The hardest situation to solve,—I know that. But she can never be +traced through her bankers or her home people or her lawyers. I am sure +of that.”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t know Pauline was so extraordinarily clever.”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t so much cleverness as common sense. A more ingenious brain +might plan to hide in a big city,—it is conceded the best place. But +it isn’t. Granting a discreet and loving friend, in a secluded country +home, Pauly’s plan is the best. And she has plenty of such friends. But +I shall find her.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe she doesn’t want to be found.”</p> + +<p>“But I want to find her. I want Pauline.”</p> + +<p>“Where is her aunt, now?”</p> + +<p>“In the New York house. But she is ill and nervous, and in the care +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> +of nurses. She’ll see no papers,—even if they carry the story,—and +unless I hear from the house, I shall send no message.”</p> + +<p>“Has Pauline no other relatives?”</p> + +<p>“Only some distant cousins. She is her own mistress, and she comes and +goes as she pleases. If Kinney would keep his mouth shut, her absence +from here would never be known.”</p> + +<p>But Kinney didn’t keep his mouth shut. On the contrary, he opened it +very often, indeed. Already he had quizzed the guests and the servants +over the entire house. Already he had telephoned orders to follow +Pauline if she could be discovered anywhere <i>en route</i> to New York.</p> + +<p>Already he had made up his mind that Pauline Fuller had killed Hugh +Curran,—but this decision he had the grace to keep to himself and used +his busy mouth merely for asking questions.</p> + +<p>Miss Hetty Dwyer was greatly excited.</p> + +<p>“Now, perhaps you will do something,” she cried. “I’ve had my +suspicions of that sly Pauline all the way along. Her, with her long, +dark eyes and her thin red lips! I’ve my opinion of her! And her +picture in my brother’s watch all the time! The hussy! I’ll bet she +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> +knew him since he was engaged to Miss Fitzgerald! Made trouble between +’em, like as not! You’ll catch her, won’t you, Mr. Kinney?”</p> + +<p>“I hope so,” he returned. “But I thought you suspected a criminal Book +Collector, Miss Dwyer?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Lord, I don’t suspect Miss Fuller of killing Hugh! No,—she’s a +sly devil, but not bad enough for that. I can’t conceive of a woman +murderer! But she has some reason for running away that’s connected +with the crime, I’ll bet on that!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you remember,” Anna said, reminiscently, “almost as soon as +Mr. Curran got here, he asked Pauline to walk in the garden with +him—alone?”</p> + +<p>“What a strange thing to do!” cried Miss Hetty.</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” the Countess defended. “He was a guest, and Pauline was a +charming hostess,—it wasn’t a bit strange.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll tell you what was strange,” said Stella. “Mr. Curran asked +Pauline straight out whether she kept her room tidy or not.”</p> + +<p>“What?” cried Miss Hetty.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span></p> + +<p>“He did,” Stella persisted, but the Countess said:</p> + +<p>“Hush that, Stella. It was the merest chance question, because he was +laughing about his own untidy ways. And Lord knows he left his own +bedroom in a mess. Papers and ashes and things strewed all over.”</p> + +<p>“I think the queerest thing,” Anna said, “was that when he appeared, +Pauline stared straight at him, and—she was at the coffee urn,—the +cup she was filling overflowed all over the tray. You needn’t tell me +she had never seen him before.”</p> + +<p>“But she hadn’t,” the Countess averred, “she told me so herself.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what,” and Stella’s eyes beamed with excitement, “likely +as not she corresponded with him without ever having seen him! You know +how girls will write to actors and authors whom they’ve never seen.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” cried Anna, “and she sent him her picture,—years ago,—and she +didn’t want Val to know about it—”</p> + +<p>Kinney’s eyes shone. He was getting what he called to himself ‘great +dope.’ And if all these things were so,—well,—more might be so—</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span></p> + +<p>Angel Bob Baldwin favored the detective with an interview later.</p> + +<p>“Don’t think for a minute, Mr. Kinney,” he said, “that I want to put +any brake on the wheels of justice. But I do want you to beware how you +manage that matter of Miss Fuller’s disappearance. You know as well as +I do that she never killed that man. Now, you’re here to discover a +murderer; not to pry into the secrets of a lady’s private life. If you +must interview Miss Fuller, go ahead and do it,—if you can find her. +But as to raising a hue and cry over her absence, you’ve no right to do +it.”</p> + +<p>“Leave it to me, Mr. Baldwin,” said Kinney, airily. “I’ve learned a bit +from the chatter of the women here, and I’ll run this thing in my own +way, if you please.”</p> + +<p>“Do; but for your own sake let it be a common-sense way. You don’t want +to be a laughing stock among your own colleagues, do you?”</p> + +<p>This shaft went home, for more than once Kinney’s mistakes had been a +source of mirth to some.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’ll give you one bit of advice, and you can take it or leave +it.” Bob’s tone was light, but he gave the detective a meaning look. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> +“When you want to ‘search for the woman,’ don’t go after an innocent +and lovely lady, but find the divorced wife of Hugh Curran. Do you know +anything about her?”</p> + +<p>“No.”</p> + +<p>“Of course you don’t. And she may have had nothing to do with the whole +affair, but if I were a detective, the very first person I should want +to interview would be the one-time Mrs. Hugh Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Hugh Dwyer, you mean.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course, it would be before he took the later name. Now Mr. +Kinney, take that tip for what it’s worth,—but I can’t help thinking +that she could give you, at least, some information.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a good idea, Mr. Baldwin,” the detective said, slowly. “I’d have +to send a man out to Reno, I suppose—”</p> + +<p>“Well that isn’t at the ends of the earth.”</p> + +<p>“No; he could make it in five days, and wire his report. A week would +cover it.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t do it because I say so. It’s merely a suggestion. You +see, Mr. Kinney, I’m a friend of Mr. Loft’s and I want to do +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> +something,—anything to help him in this horrible situation.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. Mr. Loft has good, staunch friends. Now, you and Mr. Knox +are both racking your brains to help him,—so is Mr. Mears, for that +matter,—but Mr. Mears is more interested in doing detective work +himself than in doing something to help Mr. Loft. You see what I mean, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“I do, Kinney, and perhaps the efforts of Mr. Knox and myself will +amount to more than young Mears’ sleuthing. By the way, what is Mr. +Knox doing?”</p> + +<p>“His idea is to get more clues. As if there were any, after all these +days. But he putters around in Mr. Curran’s bedroom,—I mean the room +he occupied in this house that night.”</p> + +<p>“Does he find anything?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir. He pores over the book catalogues Mr. Curran had, and he +mauls over the waste-basket occasionally. But he’s promised not to +remove or disturb anything. You never can tell when you want to check +up a feather, you know.”</p> + +<p>“A feather?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes; ‘feathers left around’ has come to be a by-word with us,—meaning +tiny clues.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, I remember. Well, Kinney, if Knox finds any important +feathers let me know. My deductions are often better than my +discoveries.”</p> + +<p>“All right, Mr. Baldwin. And, I’ll think it over, and like as not I’ll +try out that Reno plan.”</p> + +<p>“Do,” said Angel, little dreaming what that tryout would produce!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII<br> +<span class="allsmcap">WITH MARY MALDEN</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>BY noon next day no word had been heard of Pauline. Loft called up her +New York home, and inquired, guardedly, as to conditions there. He +learned that Pauline’s aunt was not well, and was unusually nervous. +But as no definite cause was assigned for the lady’s nervousness and as +no undue curiosity was shown regarding Miss Fuller’s movements, Loft +concluded the quiet household had heard of no cause for alarm.</p> + +<p>Without hope of much information he called up various mutual friends +and also her lawyer, but he could get no hint or trace of what had +become of his lost love.</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft had ample opportunity to pursue his vaunted policy of +“Do nothing and all will be done,” but somehow, in this crisis the +maxim seemed to him to lose its force.</p> + +<p>He remained away from the dining-room, lunching from a tray in the +library, and to him came Stella Lawrence.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p> + +<p>“May I come in, Val, dear?” she said, trailing her scarves through the +half-open door.</p> + +<p>“I suppose so,” he said, wearily; “but don’t chatter about Pauline,—I +can’t stand it.”</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t. What are you going to do about her—about finding her, I +mean?”</p> + +<p>“I’m just going to find her, that’s all. I shall never give up the +search and I must succeed, sooner or later.”</p> + +<p>“Val,—why do you care for her so? If any one I loved ran away from me, +I shouldn’t try to get them back.”</p> + +<p>“Stella, didn’t you hear me ask you not to talk of Pauline?”</p> + +<p>“No, I won’t. Isn’t Miss Dwyer queer, Val?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—she doesn’t interest me. I’m very sorry for her, but she is a +good deal of a nuisance about.”</p> + +<p>“And she gossips so. What do you suppose she said about Pauly?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care to hear.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she said that Mr. Curran must have corresponded with Pauline +without knowing her personally,—and she sent him her picture and all +that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span></p> + +<p>“Don’t you care, Val? Don’t you care that Pauline knew that man before, +and told you she didn’t? Why, it proves Pauly a naughty fibber—or +should one say fibberess?”</p> + +<p>Stella trailed across to Loft’s chair, and sat on the arm of it.</p> + +<p>“You’d better forget her, Val. I know Pauline,—truly, she isn’t worthy +of you. Why,—listen,—I happen to know that she was in Mr. Curran’s +room that night,—and that she came out of it at half-past two in the +morning.”</p> + +<p>Loft reached forward and pushed a bell button.</p> + +<p>“Go back to your seat, Stella,” he said, “some one is coming.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care,” and Stella remained on the chair arm.</p> + +<p>Loft rose, and in a moment Mrs. Jennings, the housekeeper, appeared.</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Jennings,” Loft said, “Miss Lawrence is leaving on the four +o’clock train. Send Tessie to help her with her packing and instruct +Bates to have the little car ready.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” and Mrs. Jennings went away.</p> + +<p>“Val! How dare you? Are you driving me away? Me,—Stella?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span></p> + +<p>But Valentine Loft apparently neither saw nor heard her. He sat at a +desk and began to write some letters.</p> + +<p>One more glance at his stony profile and Stella Lawrence knew she had +no choice as to her next step.</p> + +<p>She went dejectedly from the room, her anger and indignation lost in a +deeper feeling of shamed regret.</p> + +<p>Meeting Anna in the hall she told her she had had a telegram and had to +run away at once,—to another house party.</p> + +<p>“And I’m glad to get away from this chamber of horrors,” she added. +“Are you staying on?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.” Anna looked perplexed. “Now Ned says we’ll go and then +he stays on. We can go if we like—I mean the authorities won’t keep us +now.”</p> + +<p>“Then I should think you’d go,” Stella said, lightly, as she trailed +off to her room to do her packing.</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft sat alone until he heard the car depart with Stella in +it. Then he sent a message to the Countess asking an interview.</p> + +<p>She came to him.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span></p> + +<p>“We can be alone here,” she said, gently. “You poor boy, I wish I could +help you.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps you can, Countess,” he returned. “If so, it will be by utter +frankness. Did you see Pauline at all the night Mr. Curran died? I mean +after we had all said good-night.”</p> + +<p>Countess Galaski looked straight at him.</p> + +<p>“You want me to tell you?”</p> + +<p>“I do.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, Val, it’s hard to say positively, but I did see a woman in +the hall that night,—who looked like Pauline. That’s all I’m prepared +to state.”</p> + +<p>“Please state all you know. It will help me more, Countess, to know the +truth than to have my feelings spared.”</p> + +<p>“Then, Valentine, I can only say that while I am ready to state it +was Pauline,—I would not be willing to swear to it. You see the +difference—? Were it a casual question, I should reply, ‘Yes, it was +Pauline.’ But if it is a weighty question, one on which other issues +hang, I will not say positively.”</p> + +<p>“What made you think it was she?”</p> + +<p>“The hall was dimly lighted, and I saw a vague figure of Pauline’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> +height and general effect. She wore a dark gown and a cape that hung in +soft folds. It was such a cape as Pauline possesses, yet that is not +proof positive. Tessie could have worn that.”</p> + +<p>“Tessie is much of Pauline’s figure.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—but, Val, you asked for the truth,—it wasn’t Tessie. It +was a woman of the world. She carried herself as such. She walked +stealthily,—but steadily,—and she went in at the door of Pauline’s +room.”</p> + +<p>“Having come from Hugh Curran’s room?”</p> + +<p>“That I can’t say. She came from that direction,—and I heard a door +close—that seemed to be his—oh, Valentine, don’t make me tell these +things! What do they mean?”</p> + +<p>“That’s what I must find out, Countess. They mean strange things, I’ve +no doubt,—but they do <i>not</i> mean that Pauline is in any way +implicated in the murder of Hugh Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course not—”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say, ‘oh, of course not’!” Loft’s nerves were beginning to give +way.</p> + +<p>“What shall I say?” The Countess looked bewildered.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span></p> + +<p>“Say you know she couldn’t have been. For you do know it,—no one can +help knowing it. Now I want all the information I can get about these +circumstances, so I can unearth their explanation. Help me, Countess.”</p> + +<p>Beneath her dictatorial manner, Countess Galaski carried a most kind +heart. She looked at Loft compassionately, and her sympathy went out to +him. But her judgment told her that candor was best.</p> + +<p>“Then I will tell you, Valentine, what I had expected to tell no one. +Pauline,—for it was Pauline,—carried in her hand something that +glittered. Something that might have been that watch. Only for an +instant, when a straggling glint of light struck it, did I see it, and +then, clasping the thing in her hand, she went into her own room.”</p> + +<p>Loft, his face stern and set, listened intently.</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Countess,” he said, after a moment’s pause, “for telling +me. My only desire in life is to find Pauline and tell her I love her. +The watch, the picture in it,—even the distressing circumstances +of Hugh Curran’s death, are to me of no consequence compared to the +finding of Pauline.”</p> + +<p>“And you deem her innocent?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> + +<p>“Countess, I sent Stella away from the house for an aspersion on +Pauline’s innocence. I do not resent your speech,—only because I know +you deem her innocent yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I do,” she returned, and if she hadn’t before, the implicit confidence +Loft felt swayed her own opinion.</p> + +<p>“There are some things to be explained,” Loft admitted, “but they can +be explained only by Pauline herself. And, so, until I can ask her, I +put them aside. I do not speculate on their meaning.”</p> + +<p>“But, Val, you must remember, there are outsiders who do not feel as +you do about it all. Who are ready to put the worst construction on +Pauline’s flight—”</p> + +<p>“Of course, Countess, dear. Those are the people I have to circumvent, +whose plans I have to frustrate, whose guns I must spike. And I +shall do it,—why, I can do anything to save Pauline’s name from the +slightest stain,—to find again my darling—my love.”</p> + +<p>He almost seemed to forget the Countess’ presence, as his firm, strong +mouth, set in determination and a glow of lovelight came into his fine +eyes.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span></p> + +<p>“You’re centuries behind your time, Val,” she said, “you belong in the +age of chivalry. You’d tourney to the death for the woman you love.”</p> + +<p>“Any real man would,” he returned, “though perhaps,” he looked a little +whimsical, “he wouldn’t say so much about it.”</p> + +<p>“I’m an old woman, Val, dear,—you may confide your feelings to me as +much as you like.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’m not ashamed of my desperate love for Pauly,—but declarations +of it naturally bore others. However, Countess, you’re so delightfully +understanding, that I let myself go. But, now as to this tale of yours? +You know a lot about—things in general,—can you trump up any reason +why Pauly should visit Hugh Curran in his room,—or why she should come +away with his watch?”</p> + +<p>“None, unless,—” she hesitated, “unless she had given him the picture +long ago, in foolish flirtation,—and wanted to get it back,—and did +so.”</p> + +<p>“Not good enough,”—she told me she had never seen him before. I +believe her. My theory is more toward her doing it all for somebody +else.</p> + +<p>“Suppose somebody who had Pauline’s picture—long ago,—gave it to +Curran,—and she thought if I learned of it,—say it was Angel,—or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span> +some equally dear friend, I’d be angry at him—or maybe it was a +woman—”</p> + +<p>“Valentine, you’re drivelling. You can’t even voice the theory you’re +trying to pick out of the air. Now, stop surmising and mulling over +reasons or motives and stick to facts. Where do you think Pauline is?”</p> + +<p>“I think she is staying with some dear and true friend, who lives +somewhere off the beaten paths, and that friend, sworn to secrecy, will +keep Pauly in hiding as long as she wishes to be kept. It’s an easy +guess,—where else could she be?”</p> + +<p>“I daresay you’re right. How long will she stay there?”</p> + +<p>“Until I can get to her,—or get a message to her to come to me.”</p> + +<p>“Would she come?”</p> + +<p>“If she could get the message. You see, she thinks,—bless her +heart,—that I’m upset over the miserable business,—and she must think +that the finding of the watch in her desk has been an unpardonable sin. +Silly darling! As if she could do an unpardonable thing—to me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> + +<p>“Then the question of Pauline’s whereabouts is at a deadlock.” The +Countess spoke seriously. “Do you realize what that means?”</p> + +<p>“Lots of unpleasantness,—I’m sure. But it does not mean that she will +be found—by the authorities, until she gets good and ready. It’ll be +all I can do to find her.”</p> + +<p>He sighed.</p> + +<p>“How are you going to set about it?”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t the slightest idea,—yet. But an inspiration will come to me +before long. You see, she’s not in the vicinity of New York City at +all. She’s up in northern New York or in New England.”</p> + +<p>“Quite an area to search.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, laconically.</p> + +<p class="space-above2">And Valentine Loft was right.</p> + +<p>In a tiny, elm-shaded New England village, Pauline Fuller was at that +moment sitting in a wicker chair on the back veranda of a pleasant +country home. And she looked sadly in need of the comfort and +consolation of the knowledge of her lover’s faith in her.</p> + +<p>“And so you see, Mary,” she was saying, “I never want to see Val +again. I couldn’t hope for his forgiveness,—in his eyes it is +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> +crime,—nothing less. No power could make him understand my motive,—or +see it all as I do. Oh, do you suppose they’ll send out detectives +after me,—and all that?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t think about it, Pauline. At least, not now. We’ll have to think +pretty soon,—a lot,—but today, do rest and try to calm your nerves.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not nervous,” Pauline declared, “I’m only wretchedly miserable. +Oh, why did I ever do it? I can’t live—Mary, I can’t <i>live</i> +without Val!”</p> + +<p>“Well, dear, if you get yourself all worked up, you’ll have hysterics +and make a lot of trouble for me. Now, get your cape, we’re going for +a long ride in the country. And during the ride, you’re not to mention +these things. Then we’ll come home, have a nice cosy little dinner, and +after that we’ll sit down and thrash out the whole thing. You haven’t +told me all yet, you know.”</p> + +<p>Mary Malden, an old school friend of Pauline’s mother, was a spinster, +and was of the type known as salt of the earth. She had been the first +one Pauline thought of in her mad flight, and she had done just exactly +what Loft had surmised. She had passed three stations on the road to +New York City, had left the train, turned around and retraced her +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span> +path, going on up, in the region of the Berkshire hills, and had found +a welcome in Mary Malden’s heart and home.</p> + +<p>The house was a small one, though comfortable, but the heart was one of +the largest and kindest God ever made.</p> + +<p>At first, Miss Malden would listen to no explanation, no word of +trouble,—she only took Pauline in as a mother would take a long lost +child.</p> + +<p>And now, nearly twenty-four hours of coddling had restored Pauline’s +poise physically,—but her mind and soul were more perturbed than ever, +and she longed for the time when Mary would listen and advise.</p> + +<p>During the drive in Miss Malden’s unpretentious little car, Pauline +tried to respond to her kind friend’s efforts at conversation, but it +was so difficult that her hostess left her to her own thoughts,—and +they were not pleasant ones.</p> + +<p>“Why did I ever do it?” she asked herself over and over,—yet could +find no answer.</p> + +<p>“Lassitude is rather becoming to you, Pauline,” Mary said, at last, in +a vain hope to rouse a fleeting interest in her appearance.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span></p> + +<p>“Lassitude isn’t the word,” Pauline tried to smile. “I’m anything but +inert. I’ve energy enough—to—to sink a ship.”</p> + +<p>“Use it then to pull yourself together. Look here, honey, if you have a +nervous collapse, or go into a decline,—or have some sort of foolish +psycho-neurasthenia,—or whatever the latest fad is,—I’ll pack you off +to a sanitarium. I can’t have invalids about. People in trouble are my +hobby, but people who are ill give me the creeps.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bad idea, Mary,” Pauline said, “the sanitarium, I mean. Couldn’t +you commit me to some nice one where they keep patients in utter +seclusion? Tell them I’m a little bit irresponsible, you know,—a +trifle unbalanced,—and make them promise to keep it all confidential. +It could be done, I’m sure.”</p> + +<p>“And it will be done, if you don’t brace up and behave yourself! +Moreover, I shan’t stop at a sanitarium, I’ll put you in an out-and-out +lunatic asylum—in a straight-jacket!”</p> + +<p>“I rather wish you would. Say, in solitary confinement,—then the +police couldn’t get at me!”</p> + +<p>“The police! Good heavens, girl, is it as bad as that?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Pauline said, slowly, “as bad as that.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></p> + +<p>And when at last they turned homeward, when at last dinner was over and +Pauline had told Mary all, all her pitiful story, Miss Malden agreed it +was as bad as that.</p> + +<p class="space-above2"> +At Valhalla, matters seemed to be at a standstill.</p> + +<p>Detective Kinney had taken on a new and somewhat blustering manner. He +dictated to everybody, except to Valentine Loft,—somehow, he couldn’t +quite compass that.</p> + +<p>Angel Bob resented dictation.</p> + +<p>“Make him stop, Val,” he said, after a few days of it; “I won’t be told +what to do and what not to do by a whipper-snapper of a detective that +can’t detect a single thing!”</p> + +<p>“There doesn’t seem to be anything to detect,” Loft said, with an +abstracted air. “Except what has become of Pauly, and I’m going to +detect that myself.”</p> + +<p>“So you’ve said, repeatedly. But she’s been gone five days now, and +you’ve made no headway. Can’t you get busy?”</p> + +<p>“I’ve laid my plans,—they’re being carried out. They may work, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> +Angel,—and, Lord help me, they may not. If not,—the case is hopeless.”</p> + +<p>“Unless Pauline returns of her own accord.”</p> + +<p>“She never will. Now, Angel, don’t you stay here any longer +than you wish. The police have practically released us all from +surveillance,—that is, all except myself—”</p> + +<p>“You! Since when have you been under suspicion?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, Friend Kinney has trumped up a theory that Pauline stole the watch +because it was evidence of a disgraceful past, and that I killed Curran +because,—oh, I don’t know why,—to wipe out the same past, I suppose.”</p> + +<p>“What rot.”</p> + +<p>“What theory isn’t? Can you suggest, Angel, can you <i>invent</i> a +sound theory of Hugh Curran’s death? Can you imagine a motive that +would fit the case or a method that would fit the facts? The police +have really shelved the thing,—though they don’t say so. Miss Dwyer +wants to go home and I don’t blame her. The Knoxes want to go,—at +least, Anna does. I’m not sure about Ned,—he’s so moody.”</p> + +<p>“I say, Val,” Angel looked thoughtful, “you never suspected Ned,—did +you?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p> + +<p>“No, I never did. Nor you, nor Roly, nor myself! Perhaps I’m the most +likely suspect of the four, though.”</p> + +<p>“Guess we’ll have to come back to old Meredith.”</p> + +<p>“As likely as anybody, I suppose. But, you didn’t invent a theory.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me how a real live murderer got in and out of a locked room and +I’ll do the rest of the theory,” Angel retorted, and the subject was +dropped.</p> + +<p>A little later, Kinney appeared, bristling with excitement and swelling +with importance.</p> + +<p>“I’ve had a report,—” he began, and paused; “I’d rather make it to you +alone, Mr. Loft.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, go ahead,” Loft returned, with little show of interest. “Mr. +Baldwin is my friend, he may hear whatever you have to tell me.”</p> + +<p>“The report is from Reno,” Kinney said, a little sullenly. “Shall I go +ahead?”</p> + +<p>“From Reno?” Loft cried, startled out of his usual calm by this +unexpected disclosure.</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” Kinney said, satisfied now with the sensation he was +creating. “A telegram from the man I sent out there to investigate the +circumstances of Mr. Hugh Dwyer’s divorce—some years ago.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span></p> + +<p>“Mr. Dwyer’s divorce,—has it any bearing on the case?” Loft said.</p> + +<p>“I’ll read it to you,—no, you read it yourself.”</p> + +<p>He handed over the yellow paper, and Angel noted that it was a long +telegram, perhaps a night letter.</p> + +<p>Either Valentine Loft read very slowly, or he read the screed several +times, for it seemed to both Kinney and Bob that he would never raise +his eyes from the typewritten lines.</p> + +<p>Watching closely, they saw his eyes return again and again to the top +and travel slowly across the lines to the bottom, only to repeat the +performance.</p> + +<p>“What is it, Val?” Baldwin asked at last, unable to stand it longer.</p> + +<p>Loft raised his eyes then and stared at Bob, unseeing.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, old chap,” Angel persisted, longing to snatch the paper +himself.</p> + +<p>Then the two men saw such an expression of agony in the dark eyes as +neither had ever before seen in mortal man.</p> + +<p>An effort to speak proved futile; Valentine Loft was speechless.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span></p> + +<p>With a sudden nervous jerk he tore the paper across and across, again +and again, until it was the tiniest scraps.</p> + +<p>“That doesn’t matter,” Kinney said, comfortably, “we can get duplicates +from the office. It’s a report copied from the Reno records of Hugh +Dwyer’s divorce from his wife, nearly six years ago. His wife, whom he +had married about eight months previous, was Miss Pauline Fuller, of +New York City. The same lady we are now trying to locate. I hope we +shall be able to find her,—for more reasons than one.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII<br> +<span class="allsmcap">HOW LOFT TOOK IT</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>“I HOPE to Heaven you <i>will</i> be able to find her,” said Loft, +agreeing to the detective’s wish, but staring at him still, with that +blank, unseeing gaze. “But just now, Mr. Kinney, I’ll ask you to leave +me to myself for a time. You must realize that your news is a great +surprise to me,—and I may have to—readjust my plans somewhat.”</p> + +<p>“Plan any way you like, Mr. Loft,” Kinney said, almost cheerily, “we +have enough data now to go ahead with.”</p> + +<p>“Hold on,” Angel cried out, “are you sure of this tale you tell, Mr. +Kinney? Don’t let him ‘go ahead,’ Val, until we check up on this thing.”</p> + +<p>“No necessity for that, Mr. Baldwin. The agent we sent to Reno is +a capable and experienced man. He would not send that definite +information unless he was certain it was true. And, you must admit the +circumstances all go to prove it. Here’s the divorced wife of Hugh +Curran—”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Kinney, will you leave this room before I put you out?” Loft’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span> +face was menacing, his tone was desperate.</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, Mr. Loft, I’ll go. But I’m counting on finding you here +when I want you. Your heroics are well done,—but, I’m not so sure you +didn’t know all this before, and—”</p> + +<p>Loft suddenly jumped from his chair, his eyes blazing, and Kinney, +really frightened at his approach, fled from the room.</p> + +<p>“Angel, what does it mean?” and Valentine Loft looked despairingly at +his friend.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know, Val, but it must be true. As Kinney says, such detailed +and authentic information must be a statement of facts.”</p> + +<p>Loft looked up quickly, sensing a certain lack of sympathy in Baldwin’s +voice.</p> + +<p>“That will do, Angel,” he said, coldly, “and forgive me if I ask you to +leave me alone for a bit. I’ve a lot to think out.”</p> + +<p>Without a word, Baldwin rose, and Loft added:</p> + +<p>“I suppose Kinney will spread the news broadcast. That can’t be helped. +Do all you can for me, Angel.”</p> + +<p>“Sure,” said Bob, and went on out.</p> + +<p>Then Valentine Loft faced the situation.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span></p> + +<p>At first, his mind refused to work at all. His brain was stunned, +dazed, from the knowledge that had come to him.</p> + +<p>His abhorrence of divorce was so strong,—so deep-seated in his nature, +that the mere idea of connecting it with Pauline was almost impossible. +Pauline,—his Pauly,—a divorced woman! And from Hugh Curran! It was +incredible,—it was almost laughable! There was some mistake, of +course. Another Pauline Fuller,—yes, that must be it. He would prove +it,—he vowed he would prove it. That satisfied, smirking detective +should eat his own words!</p> + +<p>Loft paced up and down the room, his strides increasing in length as +his mind worked itself up into a fury against the man who had dared +pretend that married Pauline Fuller was his Pauly!</p> + +<p>But rushing thoughts surged through his brain. Curiously, one of the +first was the expression on Hugh Curran’s face as he said to Pauline on +that dreadful evening, “Are you, too, untidy about your bureau drawers, +Miss Fuller?” or some such thing as that. Who but a man who had been +a woman’s husband would think of saying such a thing? Her husband! +Pauline’s husband!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span></p> + +<p>Loft tore up and down the library, his brain seething, his hands +clenched and his face crimson with rushing blood.</p> + +<p>It could not be! His adored, his darling, never could have been the +wife of any man! She was pledged to him,—all her sweet, girlish beauty +was his own,—Curran!—divorced!</p> + +<p>He dropped into a chair, exhausted. Slowly his face paled to a chalky +white as his brain began to realize—to straighten things out, and to +face the appalling truth.</p> + +<p>It must be faced. He must understand that his Pauline had been the wife +of Hugh Curran,—that she had been divorced,—and—that she had kept +these facts from him.</p> + +<p>He knew better than to doubt the truth of it all. He knew there was not +the slightest hope of a mistake,—not the tiniest loophole of escape +from the facts. He knew that he had to meet the situation, grapple it, +wrestle with it,—and throw it,—or, be thrown!</p> + +<p>He faced it. And as his thoughts ran riot, a dozen hints or memories +came to help prove the case.</p> + +<p>That “Rosalie” business. Miss Hetty had said that Curran called his +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> +wife Rosalie or Rosy,—though that was not her name. A nickname or pet +name, then, for Pauline,—perhaps because of the rosy cheeks she had +had then.</p> + +<p>Then! Nowadays, her cheeks were always pale,—so that she indulged in a +touch of rouge, sometimes.</p> + +<p>And that evening, Curran had said: “<i>Rosalie</i>,—does that mean +anything to any one here?”</p> + +<p>And Pauline had moved restlessly,—he had seen it. And when Curran came +in that day,—Pauline had let the cup she was filling overflow on the +table.</p> + +<p>Still,—Pauline had told him,—her clear eyes looking into his own, +that she never had seen Hugh Curran before.</p> + +<p>Ah,—his quick wits understood that. She never had. The man she had +known was Hugh Dwyer. Curran was a new name to her.</p> + +<p>Thinking deeply, Loft decided that Pauline did not know who Curran was +until he arrived at the house.</p> + +<p>Few knew the novelist’s real name, and Loft remembered how he had +jestingly described Curran’s appearance in any way but the real one. +Then, too, if Pauly didn’t know that Dwyer had changed his name and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span> +had become an author, of course, she had no reason to suspect that the +invited celebrity would turn out to be her—</p> + +<p>Every time Loft’s train of thought led him back to the awful +truth,—and every time he was crushed and broken anew.</p> + +<p>It was bad enough that Pauline had been married,—it was worse, in his +eyes, that she had been divorced,—but—she had deceived him about it.</p> + +<p>And, so,—when Curran came that day, she recognized him,—and forgot +what she was pouring—and—oh, yes, he asked her to walk in the +garden—alone with him. Oh, yes,—so he did.</p> + +<p>And he had said “Rosalie,”—playing with her, as a cat with a mouse.</p> + +<p>And he had flashed his watch open, that she might see the picture. And +she did. Oh, yes.</p> + +<p>And then—she had gone to his room,—that night—after two +o’clock—well,—she had a right to—or, didn’t she?</p> + +<p>His brain raced on. She had gone to his room,—to ask for the +picture,—and he—probably refused,—and then—she—his brain +was working automatically now, quite independent of his mind or +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> +heart,—and then she killed him—why, of course Pauly killed him, she +was the one who had advocated poison from the start.</p> + +<p>And then she took the watch and went back to her room and hid the +watch, and that meddling detective had hunted it out!</p> + +<p>Confound him, why couldn’t he leave Pauly alone?</p> + +<p>Quite calm now, Loft went across the room to where a large +silver-framed photograph of Pauline stood on a table.</p> + +<p>He picked it up and gazed at it with a loving reverence.</p> + +<p>“My darling,” he said softly, “my blessed little girl, you are mine, +and I love you—more than ever. Why did you run away from me? Didn’t +you know, dear heart, there is nothing I wouldn’t forgive you? Nothing! +Don’t you know what that means? It means you can deceive me, you can +commit crime, you can do anything,—and you are still my own, my Best +Beloved.</p> + +<p>“That’s what love means, dear. It isn’t love if it dies or even wanes +because of—because of anything at all. Now, Sweetheart, my first task +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> +is to find you,—my next,—to—to take care of you and protect you.</p> + +<p>“Where are you, Pauline? How can I get word to you? I remember how +you looked,—how solemn, yes, sad, the day you told me that when you +sent me just the message, ‘Good-by,’ it would mean good-by forever. +But it doesn’t, Beloved, no, it does not! I know now what was in your +mind,—this horrid old Curran business. But,—oh, my Love, didn’t you +know I would forgive even that? Why didn’t you tell me all about it? It +was my own fault, though. I denounced divorce so strongly, you thought +your own pitiful little story would affect my love for you. Bless your +baby heart! Six years ago you were a mere school girl. You were dragged +into a marriage—well, I won’t try to imagine it. When I get you back +again, you shall tell me all about it while I hold you close and safe +in my arms.”</p> + +<p>Loft laid his cheek against the picture for a moment and then set it +back in place.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said to himself, sitting down at the desk, “let’s tabulate +our procedures.”</p> + +<p>“First, I must find Pauline before those fool detectives do. Next, I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span> +must get the crowd here in the house all on Pauline’s side,—or they, +especially the women, will do a lot of harm. Next, I must get up some +theory of Curran’s death,—manufacture evidence if need be, to turn +suspicion away from Pauline,—for it’s bound to hit her sooner or +later. Miss Dwyer will be hard to manage, I daresay. Old Angel will +stand by me,—though he seemed pretty well shaken by Kinney’s story—”</p> + +<p>And then Loft’s mind came back with a shock to realities.</p> + +<p>It was all very well for him, while alone, to forgive Pauline, to +rhapsodize over her portrait and to smooth her way by reason of +his unalterable love,—but none of these things would help much in +regard to the fearful publicity and scandal that must follow on the +announcement of Kinney’s report.</p> + +<p>Well, this certainly was no occasion for his motto of “Do nothing and +all will be done!” That principle would not work in this case. He must +plunge in and do it all himself.</p> + +<p>Just what he was to do, he wasn’t quite sure. But he had to trust to +his own wisdom and judgment to meet each phase of the situation as it +presented itself, and, mentally girding his loins for battle, Loft +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span> +drew himself up proudly, and went out of the library to join the others.</p> + +<p>He found them grouped on the terrace.</p> + +<p>He was almost amused at the various attitudes with which they greeted +him.</p> + +<p>Anna ran to him and impulsively threw her arms around his neck, crying, +“I’m always your friend, Val, through thick and thin!”</p> + +<p>Even through his preoccupied thoughts there came to Loft a sudden +thought of how prone Anna was to take advantage of a situation which +would give her legitimate excuse to fling her arms around a man’s neck.</p> + +<p>He gently disengaged the lovely arms, saying simply, “Thank you, Anna, +I felt sure I could bank on you,—on you all,” he added, looking around +at them.</p> + +<p>Baldwin nodded, Knox gave an acquiescent smile, while Roly Mears +exclaimed, fervently, “You bet!”</p> + +<p>The Countess said, very gravely, “I am your friend, Valentine,—and +Pauline’s.”</p> + +<p>But Miss Hetty Dwyer was plainly antagonistic.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span></p> + +<p>“You can hardly expect such protestations from me, Mr. Loft,” she said, +icily. “I am amazed to learn that Miss Fuller is my brother’s divorced +wife,—though I should not be. I should have suspected at once that his +reference to Rosalie was directed at her—”</p> + +<p>“Why should it have been, Miss Dwyer?” Loft asked, quietly. “Why should +your brother want to tease or annoy the woman who had been his wife?”</p> + +<p>“Because she was playing a part! Because she was passing herself off as +a girl, when she was a married woman,—a divorced woman! No discomfort +he could cause her, could deeply hurt such a callous, a perverted +nature—”</p> + +<p>Valentine Loft interrupted her.</p> + +<p>“Miss Dwyer,” he said, “I want to make a statement. Miss Pauline Fuller +is my fiancée, my deeply beloved bride-to-be. Nothing she has done, +nothing she ever may or can do can shake my faith in her or in the +slightest degree lessen my love for her. Now, then: no one under my +roof may make the least unpleasant allusion to her, or say the merest +word of reproach or unkindness. This understood, you are all welcome to +the hospitality of my home as long as you choose to stay here. I shall +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> +be glad of your company, but I will not tolerate a word, a hint or a +look that is unfriendly to Pauline Fuller. Am I clear?”</p> + +<p>“You are, Val, and I heartily stand by you,” declared Knox, and Baldwin +murmured, “Me, too.”</p> + +<p>“But, Valentine,” Roly Mears exclaimed, “we’ve got to look into these +matters. We can’t just sit down and do nothing. And, who knows where +the investigation may lead?”</p> + +<p>Loft smiled a little.</p> + +<p>“Roly,” he said, “I’m not thinking of you. You go ahead with your +‘investigation,’ perhaps you’ll be of real help. Countess, where do you +stand?”</p> + +<p>“At your side, Val. Count on me for love and sympathy with Pauline, and +you must forgive me if I go so far as to say, that I shall love her +just the same through good report and evil report.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Countess, I take that exactly as I know you mean it. Now, +we are all in accord,—except, perhaps, Miss Dwyer.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed you may except me,—I have no feelings in accord with those who +would protect the murderess of my brother. I have no sympathy for a +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> +woman who could deceive the man who loved and trusted her, who could +pretend she was an unmarried woman, when—”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think you need go over that again, Miss Dwyer,” Loft spoke +evenly; “will it not do if you merely say you do not care to stay with +us, and make your adieux?”</p> + +<p>“I have no intention of doing anything of the sort, Mr. Loft,” the +spinster retorted. “I am here, and here I stay until the mystery of +my brother’s death is solved. Of course, if you ask me to leave your +house, I shall do so, but I shall stay in the vicinity.”</p> + +<p>“You are welcome to stay in my house, Miss Dwyer, as long as it suits +your convenience, on the sole condition that you speak no word of +unpleasant import concerning Miss Fuller. You may think what you +choose, but I must insist that under my roof no hint of disparagement +of her shall be voiced. I have your promise?”</p> + +<p>“Yes. When I feel that I can no longer hold my tongue, I shall go away.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, then,” and Valentine Loft turned from the lady, as one who +has no further interest.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span></p> + +<p>There was a somewhat embarrassing silence after that. Every one of his +guests was anxious to talk to Loft alone, but none seemed to care about +joining in a general conversation.</p> + +<p>Moreover, no one knew exactly what to say.</p> + +<p>But Loft gave no opportunity for desultory chatter.</p> + +<p>“You fellows come with me, will you?” he said, and led the way back to +the library.</p> + +<p>Baldwin, Knox and Roly Mears followed him, leaving the women to pursue +their own vocations.</p> + +<p>“Now, here’s the situation,” Loft said, in his most business-like +manner, “Pauline is the divorced wife of Hugh Curran,—or Hugh Dwyer, +as he was then. She has run away because she thinks I would be so +shocked at the knowledge of this that I would care less for her. As a +matter of fact the knowledge in no way affects my attitude toward her, +and, naturally I want her to know that as soon as possible. But, with +all my desire to do so, I cannot find her at once. I hope to do so, +but I know it will be a difficult task. Now, meanwhile, the police, +with their widespread detective facilities, may succeed in finding her +before I can do so. They follow up a disappearance by means of their +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> +scattered agents, and I am alone in my search?”</p> + +<p>“Let me help you, Val,” said Mears, eagerly. “I can trace her—”</p> + +<p>“All right, Roly, go ahead. But your success is, to say the least, +problematical; and I’m alarmed for another reason. To put it plainly, +boys, it is almost inevitable that Pauline should be suspected of +killing Hugh Curran. Kinney is sure of it, and if he can find her she +will be arrested at once. This you can all see is an imminent danger. +It must be averted. So, I propose to give myself up for the murder of +Curran.”</p> + +<p>“You!” Baldwin stared at him.</p> + +<p>“Yes. I say now to you all that I killed Hugh Curran that night.”</p> + +<p>“The only trouble is,” Knox put in, “nobody will believe you.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just it. And that’s where I count on you fellows to help me +out. If I go to the police and give myself up, they will say, ‘No, you +are merely doing that to shield Miss Fuller.’ So, I want one of you to +go to Kinney and tell him convincingly,—convincingly, mind you,—that +you suspect me. You can say my motive was to keep Miss Fuller’s secret +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span> +from becoming public property. Or say I killed him in a fit of jealous +rage,—we’ll make up the best and most plausible story we can,—but it +must be a good one. Who’ll do this? You, Angel?”</p> + +<p>“No, Val, I can’t. Don’t ask me to. I’m no good at that wool-pulling +stunt,—I wish I could,—but, oh, hang it all, old man,—I just can’t!”</p> + +<p>Angel’s blue eyes showed deep distress, and his face was drawn with +anxiety and apprehension. He averted his gaze from Loft, and said, +“It’s a fool plan,—you can’t put it over.”</p> + +<p>Roly looked amazed.</p> + +<p>“If you do put it over,” he said, “they’ll take you at your word,—and +hang you!”</p> + +<p>“I doubt it,” Loft returned, “but I’ll take that chance. Will you do it +for me, Ned?”</p> + +<p>“Not without thinking it over first. And, I say, Val, suppose you’re +arrested, and Pauline hears of it,—which, of course, she would, she’ll +come flying back to confess herself,—if she did it.”</p> + +<p>“She never did it,” Loft said, stubbornly. “Get that in your heads, all +of you. But she’s going to be suspected—accused of it,—and I’ve got +to save her! I can’t think of any other way,—so, I <i>did</i> do it.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span></p> + +<p>“How’d you work it?” Baldwin asked. “How’d you lock the door after you?”</p> + +<p>“I had a sort of skeleton key, that turns the door key from the other +side.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t be done.”</p> + +<p>“I did it,” and Loft’s calm serenity made it almost seem as if he were +stating a fact instead of playing a rôle. “I’d ask you to do this thing +for me, Roly, but—well, I know you’d muff it. Angel or Ned could pull +it off,—but you couldn’t. You can help, though, corroborate, you know.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I can’t bring myself to try it on, Val,” Knox looked sorry. +“Really, old man, it wouldn’t carry through.”</p> + +<p>“That’s my business,” and Loft set his lips stubbornly. “Well, if you +won’t, then I shall have to go and give myself up,—but I know it would +be twice as convincing if <i>you’d</i> carry the message to Garcia. I +can vow I did it,—and—well, perhaps I can make it realistic enough to +fool those purblind police. So you all refuse?”</p> + +<p>“I do,” Baldwin said, decidedly. “And I’m against it. You’ll get +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span> +nowhere,—and, have you thought of this? When the police hear your +confession, and know,—as they will,—that you’re inventing it to save +Pauline,—they’ll realize your fear of her guilt and they’ll be surer +than ever of it.”</p> + +<p>Loft looked at him contemplatively.</p> + +<p>“You don’t think Pauly did it, Bob?”</p> + +<p>“I do not. But the police will be sure of it if you go in for that fool +quixotic scheme you propose.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that. I’ll mull it over some more and see. Roly, +sometimes you have brilliant ideas,—what do you suggest?”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what I suggest,” and Roly looked very earnest. “I know +you all think I’m awful young and don’t know anything about real +detecting. And I guess you’re right, I don’t. Not in a big thing like +this. But, I’m positively sure that there’s a greater mystery here +than we know about yet. And I know those dunder-headed police will +never find it out. So I propose, Val, that you get Fleming Stone, the +detective.”</p> + +<p>“Never heard of him.”</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s well known among people who have had reason to employ him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span></p> + +<p>“One of those story-book detectives?” Angel asked, with a smile.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s deductive and all that,—but he’s got a lot of good sound +common sense, too. Anyway, he’ll find Pauline, and he’ll find out the +truth.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want the truth found out, Val?” and Angel looked at Loft +closely.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do,” he said, after a moment’s pause. “Pauline never killed +that man,—but if she did,—there was good reason,—and she’ll be +exonerated. Mind you, I say she didn’t,—but I also say I’m ready to +face the truth,—and if she did,—she is still my Pauline.”</p> + +<p>“Good for you,” cried Roly, “you’re the real thing, Val. Will you send +for Stone,—or shall I?”</p> + +<p>“You can do it, Roly, if you will. But let me see him first when he +arrives.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV<br> +<span class="allsmcap">FIBSY MEETS A COUNTESS</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>AS the car rolled smoothly up the long drive through the tree-shaded +lawns of Valhalla, Fleming Stone and his able assistant, young McGuire, +gazed in silent admiration at the beautiful well-kept place.</p> + +<p>“When I have made my world-wide reputation, F. Stone,” the boy said, +“and have solved my last case, I shall retire on my income and live in +just such a place as this.”</p> + +<p>“Last week you planned a castle on the Palisades,—and the month +before, you thought you’d like a California villa.”</p> + +<p>“All off,—this is the sort of thing for an American gentleman,—which +I shall be by then.”</p> + +<p>Stone forbore to smile at the freckled-faced, red-haired lad in the +rôle of a country gentleman, but he gave him a sympathizing look and +said, “I hope you’ll realize some one of your air castles, Fibsy.”</p> + +<p>“Yessir. What do you know about this present disturbance, F. Stone?” he +asked, as they came in sight of the house.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span></p> + +<p>“Only the main facts. But it’s the always interesting question of the +victim in a locked room——”</p> + +<p>“And a beautiful lady. When I’m in this business for myself, F. S., I +shall take only cases that include the beautiful lady.”</p> + +<p>“But in this case, the lady has disappeared.”</p> + +<p>“That’s the beauty of it. I shall have the pleasure of finding her. +Won’t that be nice?”</p> + +<p>“Very nice, Terence, and I hope you may do so. To me this whole case is +a bit serious.”</p> + +<p>“Then it is to me, too, F. Stone,” and the freckled face at once became +grave.</p> + +<p>Terence McGuire was Irish, and therefore possessed of quick wits and +a warm heart. Both these attributes were dedicated to the service of +Fleming Stone, and as the years went by, Stone depended more and more +on his young assistant, who was rapidly becoming a colleague.</p> + +<p>When taking a case, Stone acquainted himself, if possible, with the +principal facts and conditions, but kept an open mind as to deductions +therefrom, until he could see and hear details on the scene itself.</p> + +<p>The pair were received in the library by Valentine Loft alone.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span></p> + +<p>“The case is a peculiar one, Mr. Stone,” he opened the subject; “and +I’m not sure you will want to conduct it as I wish. If not, just say +so. I am employing you,—your reports are due to me only. While in no +conflict with the police, at the same time I do not propose to take +them into my confidence unless I choose to do so.”</p> + +<p>“May I anticipate your intentions, Mr. Loft, by asking if yours is not +the attitude of one who wishes my services in so far as they result in +accordance with your desires,—and,—no further?”</p> + +<p>Loft was a little taken aback at this perspicacity, but he said, +frankly, “that is not far from the truth, Mr. Stone. But I hope,—I am +trusting that there will be no conflict between your discoveries and my +inclinations.”</p> + +<p>“Put it more plainly,” Stone said, briefly.</p> + +<p>“Very well. My fiancée, Miss Pauline Fuller, has disappeared. This fact +has caused the police to suspect her of the murder of Mr. Curran. You +know the circumstances of his death?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, in the main. Go on.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Fuller has been proved to be the divorced wife of Mr. Curran, +and, the police assume, she killed him in order to protect her secret, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> +or because of some unknown reason connected with their married life. +I’m speaking very plainly, for I want to insist that there shall be no +secrets between you and me. Now, here’s my position. If Miss Fuller is +innocent, I want it proved. If she is guilty, I want the fact concealed +and her innocence falsely proved. Do you see?”</p> + +<p>“I see.”</p> + +<p>“This proposal could not be made to a guardian of the law, a dispenser +of justice,—but a detective is not necessarily that. It is not only +to find out the truth that I ask you, it is to prove to the public the +innocence of Miss Fuller, whether she be innocent or not.”</p> + +<p>“Is she innocent?”</p> + +<p>“I believe she is,—but, of course, I should believe that, unless she +herself should tell me the contrary. But do your very best to prove her +innocent, and if you cannot do so, then do your very best to cover her +guilt from the public eyes.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose you know you are asking me to compound a felony.”</p> + +<p>“You are entirely at liberty to refuse to take the case at all.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span></p> + +<p>“But I shall take it, Mr. Loft, and I am taking it because I want to +discover the truth for myself. I certainly cannot promise to conceal +the fact, if I find Miss Fuller guilty, but I will agree to tell you +first,—and you may take what steps you choose.”</p> + +<p>“And you?”</p> + +<p>“I shall be guided entirely by circumstances. I bind myself by no +promises,—but I think I shall not disappoint you. There may be other +directions in which I look than toward Miss Fuller. The case seems to +me to present a number of angles.”</p> + +<p>“Is there any one you suspect, Mr. Loft?”</p> + +<p>The question came from Fibsy, who sat, looking earnestly at the master +of the house.</p> + +<p>Loft looked at the lad a little surprised, for he had thought him a +mere clerical assistant of the detective, or, perhaps, errand boy.</p> + +<p>But the clear gaze of the blue eyes held his attention, and Loft +replied, thoughtfully, “No, I can’t say that I have. You see, no one I +know could have any motive,—that I can think of. So, I think—I hope, +the murderer was some one I never heard of. Of course, Curran was a +stranger to us all—except Miss Fuller.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span></p> + +<p>The pain that showed in Loft’s eyes was so poignant that Fibsy turned +away his head. The boy was sympathetic to a degree, and he vowed to +himself that he would work hard on the case and do all he could in +Loft’s interests, whatever the result.</p> + +<p>“Well, Mr. Loft,” Stone finally summed up, after some few general +questions, “I will begin my investigations at once. I’ve no wish to +work incognito or to keep my presence here a secret, as I sometimes +have occasion to do. I’d like to mingle with your household, chat with +the guests, interview the servants, discuss matters with the local +police,—if they are willing,—and generally inform myself on the +situation, making what deductions I may as I go along.”</p> + +<p>Stone looked so capable, so efficient, that Loft felt encouraged.</p> + +<p>“Very well, Mr. Stone,” he agreed. “I’ll have you and Mr. McGuire shown +to your rooms, and as soon as you like, we will call a conclave of the +people.”</p> + +<p>“Are all here who were here at the time of Mr. Curran’s death?”</p> + +<p>“No; three have left. But I think you may feel sure they were in no +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> +way connected with the crime.”</p> + +<p>“If it was a crime,” Stone added, “may it not have been an accident?”</p> + +<p>Loft’s face brightened. “We’ve never thought of that,” he cried. “We’ve +discussed suicide and murder, but accident never occurred to us.”</p> + +<p>“Can it,” said Fibsy, seriously. “It couldn’t have been accident. +Where’d the poison come from for accidental use?”</p> + +<p>Loft’s face fell. Already he had come to look on the boy’s opinions +with thoughtful attention. It mattered not to him that McGuire was a +young, half-grown chap, or that his words were not chosen from the most +elegant English. There was something in Fibsy’s face and manner that +appealed to Valentine Loft’s sense of reality, and he readily listened +when the boy talked. And so, his quick turndown of the accident theory +made Loft see at once that it really was untenable.</p> + +<p>Stone and Fibsy were given adjoining rooms, and as they had rather a +long confab as soon as they were alone, it was luncheon time before +they saw Loft again.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span></p> + +<p>Then introductions were general and the party adjourned to the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>By experience in connection with Stone’s cases, Fibsy had learned the +principles of etiquette, at least, sufficiently to make a presentable +appearance at a well-ordered table.</p> + +<p>He was about to take the chair Loft designated for him, when the +Countess exclaimed: “You funny boy! Come right over here by me. Roly, +you take that other seat.”</p> + +<p>A glance at Stone, who nodded, and then Fibsy obediently went over and +seated himself beside the Countess.</p> + +<p>He was quite alive to the fact that, for the first time in his life +he was seated next a titled person, and he greatly enjoyed it, though +outwardly careless of the honor.</p> + +<p>“Why are you called Fibsy?” the Countess inquired bluntly.</p> + +<p>“Because I tell fibs, madam,” he returned, wondering if he ought to +say, “Your Grace,” and concluding to ask Stone about it later.</p> + +<p>“Indeed! And why do you tell fibs?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span></p> + +<p>“Because of necessity, madam; I only tell them when it is best and +wisest to do so.”</p> + +<p>“You seem to be a remarkable child!”</p> + +<p>“Yes, madam,—I am.”</p> + +<p>“And conceited!”</p> + +<p>“No, if you please. The remarkable thing about me is that I have gained +the friendship of Mr. Fleming Stone,—and that I am able to make myself +useful to him.”</p> + +<p>“You are fond of him?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, gee! yes! I beg your pardon, madam, but added to my untruthfulness +I am possessed of a sad addiction to slang phrases.”</p> + +<p>“You are simply delicious!” the Countess exclaimed; “I’ve never met any +one more refreshing!”</p> + +<p>“Pleased to meet you,” said Fibsy, and rolled his blue eyes at her so +comically that she shook with laughter.</p> + +<p>Always quick to discern those who could be of help to him, especially +among the women, Fibsy had picked out the Countess and Anna Knox as +being the most promising.</p> + +<p>Miss Dwyer he shrank from at once. Greatly alive to personalities, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span> +Fibsy had no use for the spinster, he concluded.</p> + +<p>Nor did she seem to have any for him. She glared at him as at an +intruder, and though she didn’t say outright that he had no right to be +at the family table, she hinted as much, and Loft was obliged to resent +it.</p> + +<p>“I reserve the privilege of ordering my household appointments,” he +said, with a frowning glance at her, and she subsided, though not +without a scornful look at Fibsy.</p> + +<p>After luncheon they gathered on the veranda, and Fleming Stone began at +once to ask questions.</p> + +<p>His manner was grave, his speech cultured and refined, and his hearers +were all impressed with the kindness of his demeanor and the gentle +quality of his character.</p> + +<p>Yet as his shrewd eyes roved from one face to another, Fleming Stone +gathered a good deal more than met the ear.</p> + +<p>His inquiries brought out not only the facts as they were known, but +the interpretations the various minds put upon them.</p> + +<p>Miss Dwyer was loquacious; and as she was, in a way, most concerned +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span> +with the dead man, Loft let her talk all she chose.</p> + +<p>And it was in her account of the discussion of ways and means of murder +that Stone showed his first decided interest.</p> + +<p>He asked over just which methods were selected by the different men, +and then Miss Dwyer said, spitefully, “and it was Miss Fuller herself +who chose poison as the medium!”</p> + +<p>“That seems to be a point in her favor,” Stone said, thoughtfully. “I +should say if any one of the people who discussed the matter should +turn out to be the murderer, he or she would use a means other than the +one of which they, personally, expressed approval.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” agreed Loft, delighted at any hint in favor of Pauline.</p> + +<p>“After methods, let’s consider motives,” Stone went on, suavely, but +with a carefully veiled scrutiny of the faces before him.</p> + +<p>Fibsy, too, under cover of a disinterested nonchalance was taking his +cue from Stone, and watching the countenances of all present.</p> + +<p>“I can’t imagine any motive on the part of any one present,” Loft +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span> +declared, “unless it be myself. You might say, that if I knew or +suspected Curran’s previous relationship to—to Miss Fuller, I might +have killed him in a fit of angry passion.”</p> + +<p>“However, we know you didn’t,” Ned Knox said, “so why waste time on +that?”</p> + +<p>“I’m not so sure he didn’t,” Miss Dwyer said, with asperity. “To me +it seems quite possible that Mr. Loft did know about it and perhaps +surprised the pair together in Mr. Curran’s room, and so he killed him.”</p> + +<p>“There seems to have been little or no opportunity for that,” Stone +said. “As I see it, whoever killed Mr. Curran did so in a most clever +and ingenious way. To administer prussic acid, and leave no trace of +the method or manner of its administering, is to my mind the work of a +diabolically clever brain.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I agree to that,” said Angel, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“But,” Stone went on, “I have a belief that the smarter the criminal +the easier he is to catch.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a strange theory,” Knox said, surprised.</p> + +<p>“But true. Your stupid dolt, who kills on an impulse, is often harder +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> +to apprehend than the smart Aleck who takes pains to hide his clues.”</p> + +<p>“And leave no feathers around,” put in Loft.</p> + +<p>And as Stone looked inquiringly, he related the story of the negro and +the stolen chickens.</p> + +<p>Fibsy laughed outright.</p> + +<p>“That’s a good one,” he said. “Feathers left around! And F. Stone +can take those feathers and construct the whole bird,—just like the +Natural History guys do.”</p> + +<p>“Next,” Stone went on, “what about alibis? Don’t think I’m accusing any +member of the household,—but I must check up your whereabouts that +night.”</p> + +<p>He listened to their stories, and summed up thus:</p> + +<p>“Then, Mr. and Mrs. Knox were in separate rooms, with a bathroom and +two closed doors between. Mr. and Mrs. Meredith were in one room. Miss +Lawrence, Miss Fuller and Countess Galaski, each in a room by herself. +Mr. Loft and Mr. Baldwin, in two adjoining rooms, only one of which, +Mr. Loft’s, opened on the hall. And Mr. Mears in a room alone. Now, +as you must see, with the possible exception of Mr. Baldwin and the +Merediths, no one has a real alibi. Any one could have gone into the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> +hall, into Mr. Curran’s room, and back again, without necessarily +arousing any one else.”</p> + +<p>“Did any one see or hear any such occurrence?”</p> + +<p>“I did,” said the Countess, “and I propose to tell of it, for it will +come out, and I can give the unvarnished truth. Others might exaggerate +or garble it. I saw Miss Fuller come out of Mr. Curran’s room that +night sometime after two o’clock. She carried with her something that +shone and glittered,—and which, I have no doubt, was Mr. Curran’s +watch,—with her picture in it. I am telling this because it seems +to be in Miss Fuller’s favor. She never killed that man! If she had +done so, she would, as Mr. Stone says, have used any means other than +poison. But she didn’t do it, because it is not in Pauline Fuller’s +nature to commit crime. And, too, why should she kill him? She was +divorced from him,—what had she to fear from him?”</p> + +<p>“Countess,” Bob Baldwin said, “you think you are doing a wise thing +to talk like that of Pauline,—but I advise you to stop. We, who know +and love her, feel how impossible it is that she could have committed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span> +crime,—but others,—strangers,—may not judge her so leniently or so +truly.”</p> + +<p>“That’s so, Countess,” Loft said. He had been dumfounded by the +Countess’ speech, and he wished, uneasily, that she would stop talking +like that.</p> + +<p>“Now, don’t be alarmed about Mr. Stone and me making any mistakes in +judging the lady in question,” Fibsy said, suddenly.</p> + +<p>His eyes were shining, and his shock of red hair was rumpled where he +had unconsciously pulled at it, in his deep absorption in the recital +of the Countess.</p> + +<p>“In fact,” Fibsy went on, “I may say, that I noted in Madam Countess’ +story a pretty strong indication that Miss Fuller certainly did +<i>not</i> kill Mr. Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Bless you, boy!” the Countess exclaimed. “I wonder if you mean that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I do,” Fibsy declared, “though I may be mistaken. We’re not +infallible,—F. Stone and me.”</p> + +<p>“May I inquire, Mr. Stone,” said Miss Dwyer, acidly, “if that boy is +head of your firm, or if you are?”</p> + +<p>“It isn’t a firm,” Stone returned, a quiet smile on his face. “McGuire +is my valued assistant, that is all. His quick wits and young eyes +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> +sometimes discern things that I myself should not have noticed.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come now,” and Fibsy looked bashful, “that ain’t quite right. Only +I pick up now and then some feathers left around, that Mr. Stone hasn’t +time to stoop for.”</p> + +<p>“You’re a darling!” the Countess cried, enthusiastically, “and I shall +leave you something in my will.”</p> + +<p>“No time like the present,” murmured Fibsy, with a saucy glance that +delighted the old lady.</p> + +<p>“At any rate, I shall address myself only to you, Mr. Stone,” Miss +Dwyer went on. “Have you any idea, as yet, who killed my brother? Do +you expect to find out? How soon do you expect to do so? Have you made +any real progress during this inquiry you have just been holding? Do +you really think that because these men talked over detective methods +or murder methods with my brother, who was a writer of such stories, +that there is the slightest reason to suspect one of them? Are you +really trying to solve the mystery of my brother’s death,—or, are you +only trying to exonerate from suspicion Miss Pauline Fuller—as she +calls herself?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span></p> + +<p>With difficulty Valentine Loft restrained his angry retort to this +harangue, but Stone had already taken the lead.</p> + +<p>“Miss Dwyer,” he said, pleasantly, but with an undertone of sternness, +“I find it difficult to remember all your queries. But I will say that +I am searching for the truth and the truth only. I do not think that +because a man talks over methods of murder he is necessarily himself +a criminal. I have made real progress in my quest during this present +session, and while I have not yet a definite idea of the name of your +brother’s murderer, yet I have made steps toward that, by eliminating +one or two possible suspects. May I ask you in future to ask me +questions in smaller quantities at a time?”</p> + +<p>“You’re a queer detective,” Miss Dwyer vouchsafed.</p> + +<p>“You are,” Little Anna agreed. She had begun to feel less awe of Stone +and her innate desire to receive attention made it impossible to keep +silent longer. “I thought detectives asked a line of questions just as +fast as they could talk.”</p> + +<p>“We do, sometimes,” Stone smiled at her. Few could help smiling at +Little Anna. “But a rightminded detective questions different people +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> +differently. When I tackle the servants of this establishment, I shall +doubtless ask them a line of questions. But among us,—as equally +intelligent people, I prefer to get at what I want by desultory chat. +Besides, it’s pleasanter.”</p> + +<p>“What were those things Mr. Curran said, when he pretended to be mind +reading?” Fibsy asked. “I heard you mention them at luncheon, but +didn’t get them all.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you,” said the Countess, beaming kindly on her new favorite. +“He told me that he could read in my mind that my shoes were too tight. +He was absolutely correct, but as my face was all screwed up with pain, +it didn’t show very desperate clairvoyant powers.”</p> + +<p>“What else?” asked Fibsy, and Stone listened, too.</p> + +<p>“Why, he spoke of <i>Rosalie</i> and asked if it meant anything to +anybody. Of course, we know now, it meant a lot to Pauline,—poor +child. Then, Mr. Curran spoke of a <i>Mr. S.</i>, who, of course, was +also some man of whom Pauline knew, and whom doubtless, she preferred +not to remember. As I see it now, he was merely baiting Pauline all the +while.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes?” said Stone. “Do you know who this <i>Mr. S.</i> could have been, +Miss Dwyer?”</p> + +<p>“I do not. I haven’t the slightest idea. I suppose it was some man his +wife had—”</p> + +<p>Stone interrupted her, and went on, placidly: “And, I am told, Mr. +Curran collected old and rare books?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Loft replied, for Miss Dwyer was silently sulking. “Mr. Baldwin +here can tell you the details of that matter. He is a connoisseur.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, yes; I collect some myself.” Stone smiled at Angel. “Perhaps we +can do a browse in the Loft library, Mr. Baldwin.”</p> + +<p>“At your service,” said Bob, but he seemed disinterested, as he +oftenest was, when amateurs wanted to consult with him.</p> + +<p>And then in his courteous way, Stone implied the confab was over for +the moment, and he went away to interview the servants.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV<br> +<span class="allsmcap">THE NEEDLE AGAIN</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>FLEMING STONE stood on the veranda waiting for the car which was to +take him to see Doctor Gilvray. Fibsy stood beside him, quiet of manner +but with his quick-darting eyes taking in everything about him.</p> + +<p>Roly Mears approached the detective a little diffidently.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Stone,” he said, “would you mind if I went with you to the +doctor’s?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Mr. Mears, come along.”</p> + +<p>Greatly pleased at Stone’s affability, and hoping to learn some of his +conclusions, Roly went along.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want to be intrusive,” he said, on the way, “but have you come +to any decisions, Mr. Stone?”</p> + +<p>“A difficult question to answer,” Stone said, smiling. “I’ve come to +several decisions, but to no conclusion.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know the difference,” Roly said, honestly, his face rather +blank.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, then, I’ve decided that I must first find out what killed Mr. +Curran. That’s a decision, and I hope it will lead to a conclusion on +that subject.”</p> + +<p>“But, we know it was prussic acid.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I mean how administered, in what form and by what method!”</p> + +<p>And then they were at the doctor’s, who received them in his private +office. He looked dubiously at Fibsy, but learning that he belonged +with Stone, he seemed satisfied.</p> + +<p>“Now, Doctor Gilvray,” Stone said, as they discussed the case, “how +many ways are there of administering that particular poison?”</p> + +<p>“It may be swallowed or it may be inserted into the flesh,” the doctor +returned. “In this case we have to assume swallowing, because a +distinct odor was noticed on the dead man’s lips. The absence of any +trace of poison in the stomach, merely proves that there was only a +minute quantity taken.”</p> + +<p>“A minute quantity is enough to produce death?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes,—the merest speck.”</p> + +<p>“Instantaneously?”</p> + +<p>“Practically so; an interval of a very few minutes might elapse before +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span> +the victim ceased to breathe.”</p> + +<p>“Can you explain the fact that there were traces in the mouth but not +in the stomach,—even granting a minute portion of the acid?”</p> + +<p>“No, Mr. Stone,—not to my own entire satisfaction. I can only say it +was the poison that caused Mr. Curran’s death.”</p> + +<p>“What is its exact action?”</p> + +<p>“It is an active paralyzant and exerts a lethal influence over every +part of the body. The nervous system, heart, respiratory organs, +brain, and all vital parts are killed at once. The victim dies, with a +gasp. For an instant the face is convulsed, the eyes wide open, teeth +clenched,—all these symptoms were present in Mr. Curran’s case.”</p> + +<p>“How are you so certain there was no poison in the stomach?”</p> + +<p>“Because at an autopsy, in such cases, there is a fleeting but +unmistakable odor of bitter almonds when the body is opened. There was +none,—of that I am positive.”</p> + +<p>“Haven’t you omitted the suggestion that the poison might have been +taken by inhalation—of fumes?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span></p> + +<p>“It may be so taken, but as there was no evidence of any such +possibility, I elided it.”</p> + +<p>“Yet there was no evidence of the presence of the poison in powder or +in liquid form.”</p> + +<p>“True.” Doctor Gilvray looked so puzzled and distressed that Stone +ceased to question him. The old physician was clearly at his wits’ end +to account for the circumstances of the case.</p> + +<p>“You know,” Roly Mears said, “that night as Ned Knox passed the door +of Mr. Curran’s room, when Angel was in there with him, Ned heard them +saying something about a needle. I’ve thought it might have been a +hypodermic needle,—maybe Curran had suicidal intent and maybe Bob was +trying to dissuade him.”</p> + +<p>Stone looked up quickly.</p> + +<p>“More likely,” he said, “if they really were talking of a hypodermic +needle, or, of poisoning at all, more likely they were still discussing +Curran’s detective stories. We have no suspicions of Mr. Baldwin, +have we? And, too, if he planned to kill Mr. Curran by means of a +hypodermic, he would scarcely be chatting it over with him. Do you +remember what Mr. Knox overheard, exactly?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span></p> + +<p>“No,” Roly said, “but it was about the needle. The needle was the point +at issue, of that Knox is certain. I’ve talked to him a lot about it. +He gathered that Curran had the needle himself.”</p> + +<p>“And that Mr. Baldwin wanted it?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know about that. You see, Ned thought nothing of it, except +that a needle was a queer thing to be discussing so earnestly.”</p> + +<p>“Were the men angry?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all, Knox says. But Curran was talking loudly, and Angel was +not.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can’t see how Mr. Curran could have been killed by a +hypodermic needle at that early hour, since he was seen alive later, by +Mrs. Knox, by the maid, Tessie, and,—as we are told,—by Miss Fuller. +By that time, Mr. Baldwin was tucked away in Mr. Loft’s bedroom.”</p> + +<p>“Much as I hate to say so, I can’t see any real suspect but Miss +Fuller,” Doctor Gilvray said, and his sad face told how he grieved at +the thought.</p> + +<p>“It looks that way, but I will not believe it,” Mears declared.</p> + +<p>“If it looks that way, we must look that way,” Stone said, gravely.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span></p> + +<p>“And p’raps,” Fibsy said, “if <i>we</i> look that way, maybe we can +stop <i>its</i> looking that way.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” Stone agreed. “And, now, Doctor Gilvray, it will be +necessary that I shall see the body of Mr. Curran. Can you arrange that +for me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—Mr. Stone,—” the doctor hesitated, “if you are sure it is +necessary.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure,” Stone said. “Otherwise, I can never arrive at the truth of +this thing. No disparagement whatever, Doctor, to your report of the +autopsy,—that is clear and correct. But I must examine that body.”</p> + +<p>“Very well,” the doctor replied, and promised to make the desired +arrangements.</p> + +<p>Returning to Valhalla, Fleming Stone asked for an interview with Loft, +in which he inquired very definitely concerning the knowledge and the +discoveries Loft might have made of Miss Fuller’s present abiding place.</p> + +<p>“I have no knowledge whatever,” Loft said, dismally. “I am utterly at a +loss to imagine where she is, but, knowing her as I do, I am sure she +is safely hidden from detectives or from myself.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not easy to hide so completely,” Stone said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span></p> + +<p>“No; but it’s possible,” Loft returned. “You must know, yourself, +Mr. Stone, that a man mightn’t do it, but a woman can retire to some +inconspicuous spot, and remain there undiscovered for a long time.”</p> + +<p>“That’s true,” Stone said; “but how does Miss Fuller get money,—how +get in touch with her aunt, if necessary,—in a word, how does she +communicate with the outside world?”</p> + +<p>“She doesn’t,” Loft replied, gloomily. “You see, Miss Fuller has a +wide circle of devoted friends. I could name half a dozen who would +willingly, gladly give her sanctuary, no matter what she may have +done. These friends would be wise enough and clever enough to keep +her presence safely hidden from any prying detectives or inquisitors. +It would not be so difficult. Imagine a large country house, with +lots of guests coming and going,—or, better, imagine a small country +home, on the outskirts, say, of some tiny village, or farther out in +the country. Granted a determined hostess, Miss Fuller could be an +unsuspected guest, indefinitely. At any rate, Mr. Stone, I am positive +that is where Miss Fuller is,—at some such place.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve tried to communicate with her?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span></p> + +<p>“I have sent letters to her in care of five such homes as I’ve just +mentioned, but they were all returned with the statement that she was +not there. But that doesn’t shake my belief. Either the people were +untruthful, out of loyalty to her, or she is at some other place.”</p> + +<p>Fibsy looked deeply thoughtful.</p> + +<p>“Do you think she may be in some farmhouse, or some small house in the +country, Mr. Loft?” he asked earnestly.</p> + +<p>“It may well be,” Loft replied. “That’s where I picture her. But I +shall write no more letters, she will not let them be answered.”</p> + +<p>“And you can get no information from Miss Fuller’s home in New York?” +Stone asked.</p> + +<p>“No. You see, Miss Fuller is very much alone in the world. Her aunt +who lives with her in her city home, is a nervous invalid, and pays +no attention to her niece’s comings or goings. I have learned that +she thinks Miss Fuller is still here, and I have not undeceived her. +I have found out, too, that Miss Fuller’s lawyer does not know where +she is,—that is, he says he doesn’t,—and her bankers profess the +same ignorance. Now, it’s quite possible that these people do know, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span> +but deny the knowledge, holding it as a business secret. At any rate, +I cannot find out. You see, Miss Fuller can get money from her friends +without trouble.”</p> + +<p>“As you put it, the whole affair is plausible enough from the very fact +that it is so casual,” Stone said, after a moment’s thought. “True, +a man,—especially a business man,—would find it difficult to drop +out of existence, but a woman,—and a desperate woman, can do many +seemingly impossible things.”</p> + +<p>“Say, Mr. Loft,” Fibsy put in, “you think maybe Miss Fuller is at a +farmhouse,—where?”</p> + +<p>“Probably up in Connecticut,—or Massachusetts. She has many friends +in all parts of the Berkshire regions. Also in New Jersey. And in the +Southern States,—but I think she is not very far away.”</p> + +<p>“You’re basing your assumptions on your intimate knowledge of Miss +Fuller’s mind?” Stone asked.</p> + +<p>“Exactly that,” Loft replied. “I know her indomitable will, I know that +she has disappeared without a word; she proposes to stay hidden, but I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span> +also know, Mr. Stone, that she never killed that man!”</p> + +<p>“I wish your conviction were positive proof,” Stone said, gravely.</p> + +<p>“I wish so, too,” Loft agreed. “But I can’t expect those who do not +know Miss Fuller as I do, to realize the depths of her nature. I +appreciate, Mr. Stone, as you cannot, the motives that led to her +deception of myself. It was, primarily my own fault. I had no right +to be so arbitrary in my denunciation of divorce. It was, I see now, +merely a whim of mine, and had I not given way to it, Pauline might +have confessed all to me. I am thus frank with you, because I want you +to understand the situation perfectly.”</p> + +<p>“I think I do, Mr. Loft,” Stone spoke sympathetically.</p> + +<p>“I know I do,” Fibsy said, eagerly,—“and what’s more, Mr. Loft, I have +a notion I can find Miss Fuller for you.”</p> + +<p>“Good boy!” Loft said, in a kindly way, but in a tone which showed +clearly he had small hope of Fibsy’s making good his promise.</p> + +<p>But the boy wagged his head sagaciously, and Stone could see that some +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> +ingenious scheme had sprouted in his fertile brain.</p> + +<p>“What’s the big idea, Fibs?” he asked, when the two were later alone in +Stone’s room.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t quite doped it out yet, Mr. Stone,” and Fibsy’s blue eyes +looked deep with anxiety. “But I have a glimmering of a notion—aw, +shucks,—wait till I give it another think, then I’ll tell you.”</p> + +<p>“All right, McGuire. Now, how about giving Mr. Curran’s room a sweeping +glance?”</p> + +<p>“Let’s,” and the boy jumped up readily.</p> + +<p>So to the locked room the two went, and Stone producing the key Loft +had given him, they went in and locked the door behind them.</p> + +<p>“Very few feathers left around,” Stone said, somewhat chagrined at the +slight effect of personal occupancy the room presented.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Loft said nothing has been touched,” Fibsy reminded him. “Surely +you can find something indicative, F. S.”</p> + +<p>“Let’s hope so.”</p> + +<p>Stone scanned in turn each article of furniture, the walls, the floor, +the window sills and door frames.</p> + +<p>“Not much,” he concluded. “How about the waste-basket,—turn it out, +Fibs.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span></p> + +<p>On an outspread newspaper, Fibsy emptied the basket.</p> + +<p>Attentively the detective scanned the motley array of rubbish.</p> + +<p>“Most wastebaskets speak louder than this one,” he said, grimly. “Can +you hear anything, Fibs?”</p> + +<p>“Nope,” and the boy looked hopelessly at some torn papers, some bits of +string, some lead pencil shavings, an empty cigarette box, an empty box +that had evidently held digestive tablets, a wooden toothpick, a quill +toothpick, a torn toothpick paper, a few burnt matches, and an old +envelope or two.</p> + +<p>Nearly all these things were duplicated on the floor of the room, +proving a most careless occupant, and also proving, that as Loft had +said, nothing had been disturbed.</p> + +<p>“That medicine box might have held the poison,” Fibsy said, +half-heartedly, “but it doesn’t look that way to me.”</p> + +<p>“No;” and Stone smelled of the pasteboard carton. “I doubt it.”</p> + +<p>But he picked out two or three of the articles from the waste-basket +rubbish and put them in his note-book for future study.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span></p> + +<p>“You see, the windows are fastened securely, with six-inch openings for +ventilation,” Fibsy remarked, and Stone said, “Yes,” disinterestedly.</p> + +<p>“And, I say, F. Stone, this door, if locked, never could be opened from +the outside,—you can see that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I see that.”</p> + +<p>“Then how in the name of Emile Gaboriau did the murderer get in and +out?”</p> + +<p>“Be more meticulous, Terence. You mean how did he get out? He could get +in easily enough.”</p> + +<p>“Curran let him in?”</p> + +<p>“Surely.”</p> + +<p>“And then he accomplished his fell purpose?”</p> + +<p>“He did.”</p> + +<p>“And then, how did he get out?”</p> + +<p>“Curran let him out.”</p> + +<p>“While he was dead?”</p> + +<p>“No,—alive.”</p> + +<p>“But, the doctor said his death was instantaneous.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—oh, hush up, Fibsy! This is a wonderful case! But I can’t be +certain about it until I have seen the body of Hugh Curran.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span></p> + +<p>“Say, F. Stone, it wasn’t the Pauline lady,—was it?”</p> + +<p>“It may have been,—so far we’ve found no one else with a motive.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,—I can’t believe it—that lovely lady!”</p> + +<p>“McGuire, you’ll never make a detective unless you are willing to seek +the woman. If you start out on the premise of a man miscreant always, +you’ll get nowhere,—you’ll get sadly left.”</p> + +<p>“Well,—I’m starting out this trip with the premise that Miss Fuller is +as innocent as they make ’em, and therefore I’m going to produce her +and let her state her innocence for herself. She can put up the goods.”</p> + +<p>“Just how are you going to find her, Fibs?”</p> + +<p>And then, in a few words, McGuire detailed his plan.</p> + +<p>“Good enough in theory,” was Stone’s comment, “but extremely dubious in +practice. However, go ahead,—if Loft agrees.”</p> + +<p>And then Stone was called downstairs to meet Detective Kinney who +greatly desired to see him.</p> + +<p>Fibsy went along, his head full of his own scheme of things.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span></p> + +<p>So engrossed was he in his plans, that he paid little attention to the +conversation between Stone and the local detective.</p> + +<p>When at last he listened in, as he would have called it, Kinney was +saying:</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir, we have followed up many clues, which though promising at +first, led nowhere. But—”</p> + +<p>“I’ll finish for you,” said Fibsy, saucily, “but you feel sure now, you +are working in the right direction and will soon be in full possession +of the facts. You are not at present ready to announce your decision, +but expect soon to make public some interesting disclosures.”</p> + +<p>Kinney was furious, as this was just about what he had meant to say. He +gave Fibsy a withering glance, which that young hopeful received with a +knowing wink.</p> + +<p>“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Kinney,” he said, “you’re pretty sure, aren’t +you, that Miss Fuller is concerned in this matter—this crime, I mean.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure of that!” Kinney exclaimed, “and if I could get hold of +her—”</p> + +<p>“I’m going to find her,” McGuire said, calmly, “and then she and I +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> +will prove to you that she is utterly and entirely innocent.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, and who is the guilty person, may I ask?”</p> + +<p>“You may ask and you may answer. I’m sure I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“Behave yourself, Terence,” Stone admonished him, and seeing no chance +of more fun at the expense of Detective Kinney, Fibsy wandered away.</p> + +<p>He went in search of Tessie, with whom he had already made friends.</p> + +<p>“Tell me something, sweetie,” he said, with a cherubic smile, “tell +your little Fibsy something, will you?”</p> + +<p>“Go along with you,—you, and your foolishness,” and Tessie +involuntarily smiled back at the impudent chap.</p> + +<p>“No, seriously, now. Tell me what sort of clothes and things Miss +Fuller took when she went away that day.”</p> + +<p>“Why, she took no clothes at all,—no dresses or hats. I mean she took +what we call an overnight bag,—only her night things, and brushes and +such.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—but I mean did she take her best night things,—as if she was +going to a swell party?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span></p> + +<p>“Why—let me see. No, as I remember, she took rather her plainer +things,—no boudoir cap and only a simple kimono,—no fancy negglegy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” and the red head nodded with satisfaction. “Say, like she was +going to see some friend who wasn’t one of the tip-top upper crust?”</p> + +<p>“Well, yes, you might put it so.”</p> + +<p>“And, say, Tessie,—oh, now do try! Can’t you think of something she +said that would give the leastest, tiniest hint of where she was going?”</p> + +<p>“No, I can’t,” but urged by the earnestness of her interlocutor, Tessie +thought hard.</p> + +<p>Finally she said, “There’s just one thing; in the car, on the way to +the station, I caught sight of a New York Central time table in Miss +Fuller’s bag—the Harlem Division—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, you duck! you daisy!” and Fibsy grabbed the girl in his arms, and +made her dance a two-step while he whistled a lively tune.</p> + +<p>“Behave yourself, you young rascal,” Tessie cried, as she shook him +off. “I’ll not stand for such goings on!”</p> + +<p>“You needn’t,” he cried, “I’m going off—way off!”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span></p> + +<p>He ran away and presented himself at the door of the library, where +Loft still sat at his desk.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Loft,” he said, respectfully, “may I have a talk with you?”</p> + +<p>“Come in,” Loft said, his attention arrested by something in Fibsy’s +tone.</p> + +<p>“I think I may be able to locate Miss Fuller, sir,” he said, a little +embarrassed as he felt Loft’s grave gaze fixed on his face.</p> + +<p>“Just how?” and Loft spoke kindly.</p> + +<p>“I’d rather not tell you,” Fibsy replied. “I know that sounds queer, +sir, but Mr. Stone, he knows, and he can tell you if he chooses. But it +would sound to you like a wild goose chase,—and yet,—Mr. Loft,—wild +geese have been caught.”</p> + +<p>Fibsy did not smile, and his look was so beseeching Loft listened with +interest.</p> + +<p>“Yes, McGuire, they have. Well, what can I do in the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Just this, sir. Will you give me some message, which, if Miss Fuller +hears it, she’ll know that you want her to come back. I mean some sort +of blind message,—that only she will understand,—but that she can +make no mistake about.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span></p> + +<p>“H’m,—I see. Well, tell her—tell her—there’s a Valentine waiting for +Pauline. How’s that?”</p> + +<p>“Fine! Splendid. Now, is there any other word,—any phrase that is sort +of a by-word—sort of a secret between you two?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, we had many of them. Tell her, for instance: ‘The Portuguese +are the people!’ She’d understand <i>that</i> was a message from me.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, sir,” Fibsy jotted the lines down in his note-book with +painstaking care. “Now, will you give me five hundred dollars to spend +on this thing? It’s a lot of money, but I feel sure it will give you +back your lady.”</p> + +<p>“You are a most extraordinary youth!” Loft said, “but I’ll chance it. +Here is your money. Where are you going?”</p> + +<p>“To Springfield, Mass.,” said Fibsy.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI<br> +<span class="allsmcap">CURRAN’S CRUELTY</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>PAULINE FULLER was both listless and restless. The quiet, secluded +home of Mary Malden was sanctuary indeed, and Pauline ran little or no +chance of being discovered there.</p> + +<p>But now that she had had time to think matters over, she was not quite +sure she had been wise in coming. She had told kind-hearted Mary her +whole story, and Mary had sympathized and had coddled her and petted +her, all of which was balm to Pauline’s tortured heart.</p> + +<p>Now three or four days had passed and the monotony of the place, though +restful and soothing, had begun to get on her nerves.</p> + +<p>She wondered what Val was doing. What he was thinking of her. How +matters were progressing at Valhalla.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” she said to Mary, “sometimes I feel as if I must rush +right back there,—I’m so anxious about Val.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span></p> + +<p>“Better stay where you are,” said the practical Mary. “From what you’ve +told me of his ideas about divorce, I should think you’d never dare see +him again.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he’d forgive it all,” said Pauline, hopefully.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps he wouldn’t,” returned Mary. “No, my child, you did the most +scandalous thing I ever heard of,—to pass yourself off as a girl, when +you were a married and divorced woman. I wouldn’t have believed it of +you, Polly.”</p> + +<p>“I know it was dreadful, but oh, Mary,—I was so young, and I was urged +into that marriage against my will. Almost nobody knew anything about +it. I was out in California two years, you see, and the whole courtship, +engagement, marriage and divorce all occurred within the first year. +So, when I did come back to New York, I tried to forget it,—I told no +one, not even Auntie,—she would have been so upset. And, you see, the +courts gave me back my maiden name,—so I just put that whole year out +of my mind,—and strove to forget it. And I did forget it, practically. +I know it was wrong to deceive Val, but—he is so dear,—and he is +so terribly opposed to divorce. I meant to tell him before we were +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> +married, though,—” she broke off, and bowing her head in her hands, +she wept silently.</p> + +<p>“There, there, dearie,” said the kindly Mary, “never mind +now, we’ll think out what’s best to do. But don’t go back to +Valhalla,—you’d—you’d be arrested for—for—you know—”</p> + +<p>“For the murder of Hugh Curran? But I didn’t kill him, Mary.”</p> + +<p>“Thank Heaven for that! Do you know, Polly, this is the first time +you’ve said that definitely. Can I believe you, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, indeed you can. No, Mary, I was in his room that night, I did +take the watch, but I didn’t poison him.”</p> + +<p>“Tell me about it.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t, dear,—the mere thought of it all upsets me so. Just think, +I hadn’t thought of that man for nearly six years,—I mean, thought +of him coherently. If ever a suggestion of him came in my mind I +resolutely put it away from me. You know, I had no idea that Hugh +Curran was Hugh Dwyer.”</p> + +<p>“You hadn’t?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no, indeed. I had never heard from or of Hugh Dwyer since I left +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span> +him at the time of the divorce—”</p> + +<p>“Was he very dreadful to you, dear?”</p> + +<p>“Awful! Horrible! Don’t ask me about that! The divorce was granted at +once,—an absolute decree and all that. Mary, <i>don’t</i>!”</p> + +<p>“No, I’ll never mention it again. Go on, about this later time.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I heard them talking about this author of detective stories,—I +never read them myself,—and I heard them say that Hugh Curran had +been a Moving Picture actor. But it all meant nothing to me. I never +connected that name with the name of Hugh Dwyer,—why should I?”</p> + +<p>“Of course not, dearie. And then, Val invited him to the house?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,—and it happened that when somebody asked Val what the man looked +like, just out of foolishness, Val described him as quite different +from the truth.”</p> + +<p>“Why did he do that?”</p> + +<p>“No reason but as a bit of fooling. Anyway, that made me think of +the coming guest as a total stranger, of course, and, Mary, when +he came,—and I saw him,—I almost fainted. Truly I did. I was +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> +pouring coffee, and let the cup overflow while I struggled to keep my +composure. I think I only did keep up because I knew Hugh’s eye was on +me, and he would be rejoiced to see me collapse.”</p> + +<p>“What a fiend he was!”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes, all of that. He had a diabolical way of tormenting any one, +under cover of utmost friendliness. So, first of all, he asked me to +walk in the garden with him,—alone. I shouldn’t have gone, but anyway, +Val forbade it, and Hugh subsided. Then later, he took a fiendish +delight in flinging out allusions that only I could understand. Why, he +even asked me straight out if I kept my bureau drawers in order,—that +had been a source of disagreement between us when we lived together. He +was a most untidy sort of person,—I mean about keeping things in their +places. And then,—when I wouldn’t seem to notice anything he said of +that sort, he asked if the name ‘Rosalie’ meant anything to anybody +present! He thought I’d betray myself then, but I didn’t. Rosalie or +Rosy is what he always called me because of my pink cheeks—which I +always had then.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span></p> + +<p>“And which you’ve never had since, you poor darling. Pauline, how you +have suffered! Surely you’ve atoned for anything you have ever done.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I hope so,—but Mary, I haven’t done anything wrong—except to +keep from Val the knowledge of my former marriage,—and I did that more +for his sake than for my own. Truly I did.”</p> + +<p>“It was wrong, Pauline,—very wrong. But, go on, tell me the rest of +your story.”</p> + +<p>“Then, he flashed his watch open once or twice, in such a way that I +couldn’t help seeing that my picture was in it. He used to have it +there,—I don’t know whether he carried it all these years or not. +And,—Mary, the worst of all, was the look of admiration he gave me +every chance he could get to do so, unobserved. I could have stood +better his hate, his fury, his revenge, even, than those glances of +admiration and apparent affection. As we said good-night, he managed to +whisper to me, ‘Come to my room at two o’clock.’ Mary, I didn’t dare +disobey,—and, too, I felt I had to see him alone,—and learn what +his intentions were. If he meant to expose me, I wanted it done all +at once,—not by that slow torture. If I could persuade him to keep +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> +my secret, I meant to do so. Anyway my relations to Val, my hope of +happiness with him, all depended on that man’s attitude in the matter. +So,—I went to his room—at two o’clock.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t blame you, dear. You had to do it.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I had to. And Mary, the whole trouble was that he had become +infatuated with me all over again! He was engaged to another girl, but +he told me he didn’t love her,—and he did love me,—and he begged me +to come back to him,—said I had grown more beautiful, more dear and +sweet, and he wanted me. He said, if he couldn’t have me,—no one else +should. He said he would tell Val the whole story, and as he well knew +Val’s feelings about divorce, he knew—and I knew,—that would break +off our engagement.</p> + +<p>“He upbraided me fearfully for deceiving Val,—called me terrible +names, and then he would change to a wheedling love-making on his own +account. Finally, he threatened that unless I would promise to break +with Val and remarry him, he would not only tell the whole story of +our marriage, but would compromise me by saying I had come to his room +that night without invitation. Oh, he was a devil incarnate. And all +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> +the time, suave and urbane as if he were proposing some casual plan. +Then he would suddenly break into protestations of passion and love for +me,—all of which I knew by heart, and they brought back the old days +that I have tried so hard to forget. Mary,—I was ready to kill either +him or myself,—and I didn’t care much which.”</p> + +<p>“You didn’t do either?”</p> + +<p>“I see you can’t believe me,—and I don’t wonder,—now that you know +what happened. No, I didn’t kill him,—though I confess there was +murder in my heart. And if I had had a weapon, I could have easily +brought myself to do it—oh, no, I don’t think I could, either. I’ve +crime enough on my shoulders, without adding murder to it.”</p> + +<p>“No, Polly, if you didn’t kill him, you’ve no crime to regret. Your +deception of Val is wrong,—very wrong,—but not a crime. But Val knows +the truth of that, now,—and Pauline, don’t you suppose Val thinks you +killed Curran?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe he does,—but, Mary, how could I kill him? What with?”</p> + +<p>“Why, with the poison,—your choice of a method, as you’ve told me +yourself.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span></p> + +<p>“But I didn’t,” Pauline reiterated. “I became frightened at his wild +protestations of love and passion, and I simply ran out of the room. +I felt sure that for all his threats he wouldn’t follow me, and so, I +grabbed his watch as I fled, with a half-conscious idea of destroying +that picture. But when I reached my room, I was trembling so, and +so faint from nervous reaction, I hid the watch and fell on the bed +where I lay for hours just as I was. It was daybreak before I got up +and undressed and really went to bed. Then, Mary,—then imagine next +morning, learning that Hugh Dwyer was dead!”</p> + +<p>“You were glad?”</p> + +<p>“Glad faintly expresses it! I was freed from a dreadful danger, saved +from an awful fate. I was so glad I could have sung for very joy. I +daresay it was a sort of nervous hysteria, but it was all I could do to +preserve a decent calm. I tried not to lie to Val. He asked me straight +out if I had ever seen Hugh Curran before he came to the house. And I +said ‘No,’ for surely I had never met Hugh Curran before. Hugh Dwyer +was my persecutor. And, now, as you say, Mary, Val knows my story, and +others know it. I heard enough to know they were going to send a man +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span> +to Reno to learn the details of Dwyer’s marriage and divorce, and the +name of his wife. I knew, too, that that Detective Kinney had found the +watch in my room,—with my picture in it—oh, Mary, I couldn’t face +Val! Now, I almost wish I had,—maybe he would have stood by me,—maybe +I could have convinced him that I didn’t kill Curran.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you suppose did, Pauline?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t imagine,—nor can I see how it was done. I’ve thought over +it so much. How could any one have poisoned that man after I left his +room?”</p> + +<p>“How long after?”</p> + +<p>“A couple of hours, I should judge. The doctors calculated that he +died between four and five o’clock in the morning. I should think it +a suicide, but that I know he was too eager to live to—to punish +me,—or,—to marry me again. Nor can I think of any one who had any +motive to kill him. I feel sure now, it must have been some intruder +from outside,—maybe through the window,—though they say that was +impossible. Oh, dear, I wish you’d believe, Mary, that I didn’t kill +him.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span></p> + +<p>“I do believe it, Pauline,—at least, I’m trying to believe it. But if +you had done it, I’d think you were justified,—”</p> + +<p>“No, not justified. You may say you could understand my doing it,—as +I confess I had the will to do it—oh, Mary, does that make me a +murderess? Am I all bad?”</p> + +<p>“No, no, dearie, there, there, don’t cry so.... You’re just a normal, +true woman,—you love Val, and all these feelings toward that brute +who ruined your life are only natural. How did you come to marry him, +Pauline?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I was very young,—only seventeen, but younger even than that in +my innocence and ignorance. He was a handsome, beguiling chap, and one +night he made desperate love to me, and urged me to elope with him. I +thought it all very romantic, and I thought I loved him,—and I went.</p> + +<p>“We were married at once, by some clergyman friend of his, and all of +the honeymoon he was angelic. But soon after, he began to be careless +and worthless, and from that on, as I soon found I didn’t really love +him, he became cruel, brutal and unbearable. I went to stay with a +friend, a nice elderly lady, and she advised me to get a divorce at +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span> +once. She helped me put it through, and inside of eight months I had +been wooed, wedded and divorced. Oh, but I was glad to be free again. +Then when I returned to New York, a year later, I kept it a secret, +to save myself the gossip that it would have caused. And when I met +Val,—and when we came to love each other,—I should have told him all, +but for his strange, almost insane hatred of divorce. I meant to tell +him, even then, but I’ve put it off because I couldn’t bear to hurt +him. And, I’ve worried myself sick over the question of whether to tell +him at all or not. One day I would decide to make a clean breast of it +all, and then he’d say something about divorce, and I’d find myself +utterly unable to open the subject. But I never should have married him +without telling.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Pauline, I’m your friend, whatever happens. I’m ready to believe +you didn’t kill that man, but I couldn’t blame anybody who thinks you +did. And, I may as well say that I think if you had killed him, you’d +deny it just as you have done.”</p> + +<p>Pauline smiled. She felt such a relief at having unburdened her, whole +heart to her friend, that she was able to see the absurdity of Mary’s +attitude.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span></p> + +<p>Yet was it so absurd? Could friendship go further than to pledge +continued friendship even in the face of such uncertainty as was surely +in Mary’s mind?</p> + +<p>Pauline appreciated this, and flung her arms round Mary while she +thanked her for her goodness and love.</p> + +<p>“And now,” Mary said, with her usual good sense, “put it all out of +your mind for the moment. Go and lie in the hammock and read a foolish +novel or go out and pick flowers or get out some sewing,—no, don’t do +anything conducive to thought. Go and listen in on the radio.”</p> + +<p>“I hate those radio things,” Pauline said, laughing. “To me, they’re +the monotonous lingo of a metal mind.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, come, now, some of it is real interesting,—and instructive, too. +Go and try it, anyway.”</p> + +<p>Pauline drifted about, lounged in the hammock, picked some flowers, and +honestly endeavored to put her troubles away from her for a time.</p> + +<p>“I’m going to the village, in the Ford,” Mary said, later. “Want to go?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said Pauline, promptly, “somebody might see me.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span></p> + +<p>“Fiddlesticks! You can’t live all your life shut up on this farm. Well, +all right, but you’ve got to go with me tomorrow, or soon.”</p> + +<p>“Very well, we’ll see,” and Pauline waved a good-by after the departing +car, and returned to her listless idleness.</p> + +<p>At last, in sheer desperation, she turned to the radio outfit, and took +up the receivers.</p> + +<p>As she had anticipated, she was bored by a soprano solo by a +high-strung young girl, and an accordion obbligato by a clever young +man.</p> + +<p>She was about to disconnect, when she heard the announcement of a +lecture on “European Countries Little Known.” The day’s subject turned +out to be Portugal. Slightly interested, she listened to the lecturer’s +trite and ready-made phrases. And then, he said, in especially clear +accents, “The Portuguese are the people!”</p> + +<p>Pauline smiled to herself, for that was a phrase she and Val had often +used, and to them it meant an appreciation of certain “Sonnets from the +Portuguese,” with which Elizabeth Barrett Browning charmed all lovers.</p> + +<p>The lecture proceeded, and three times the speaker repeated the short +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span> +phrase, “The Portuguese are the people.”</p> + +<p>Pauline pondered long, after the lecture was over.</p> + +<p>Could it be a sort of an omen,—a hint from Fate that Valentine was +thinking of her,—perhaps still loving her?</p> + +<p>And then, realizing the absurdity of her own thoughts, she put it +from her mind. She had no leanings toward the occult, or even toward +telepathy or thought transference. And, too, as she said to herself, it +wasn’t Val who was doing the lecturing.</p> + +<p>But the result of the episode was that Pauline spent many hours at +the radio apparatus the next few days. She let herself be bored by +the lectures on science, by the children’s stories, by the far from +first-class music, and by the rehash of current events. She listened +even to the talk on home-making and culinary doings, hoping against +hope that something would again remind her of Valentine.</p> + +<p>At last she was rewarded. On the second day of her radio interest, +there was a talk by one of New York’s most celebrated detectives. Among +other things he spoke of the work of the Bureau of Missing Persons. +And, she could scarcely believe her ears, but she certainly heard him +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span> +say, “For example, if an advertisement were worded, ‘Pearline, come +back and all will be forgiven,’ it might not succeed in its purpose. +But if it said, ‘Pearline, come back, I love you,’ then maybe she would +come.”</p> + +<p>The lecture, though of serious intent, was in a popular style, and +Pauline gasped.</p> + +<p>For Pearline was a foolish nickname that Val used in his gayest +moments. It had seemed to him a great joke to call the dignified and +beautiful Pauline by the silly name.</p> + +<p>And as she continued to listen, the lecturer referred again to the +supposed advertisement and repeated the whole idea.</p> + +<p>Pauline waited till the lecture was over and then went away to her own +room to think it out.</p> + +<p>She knew little of the way in which radio stuff was “broadcasted,” +but she felt almost certain that that bit in an otherwise impersonal +lecture couldn’t be mere chance.</p> + +<p>If Val had wanted to send her a message, what could he have said more +perfect, more poignant, than “Come back,—I love you.”</p> + +<p>How it was done, she didn’t know,—but her heart claimed the message, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span> +even though her mind refused to believe it was from Valentine Loft.</p> + +<p>Though tempted to tell Mary about it, she couldn’t bring herself to +do so, but she continued to haunt the radio at every number of its +programmes.</p> + +<p>“Well, for any one who scorned that thing, you’ve certainly become +addicted to it,” Mary said, as Pauline refused to leave the instrument +to go for a short drive.</p> + +<p>“I’ve learned to like it,” Pauline said, and waved Mary to silence.</p> + +<p>Yet only once again did she get anything from it that might have been +meant for her.</p> + +<p>It was twilight, their early supper was over, for Pauline had insisted +that Mary retain her simple ways of living, and though her hostess +called to her from the veranda, Pauline replied that she would come out +as soon as she had heard the evening concert.</p> + +<p>And after two or three uninteresting numbers, a fairly good baritone +voice sang a ballad with a simple air, the refrain of which was: +“There’s a Valentine a waiting for Pauline.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span></p> + +<p>No mistake this time! Pauline’s eyes filled with tears and her +heart beat fast as she listened to words, homely, but loving and +sincere,—each stanza closing with the refrain, “There’s a Valentine a +waiting for Pauline.”</p> + +<p>Not Pearline this time,—but Pauline, her own name, and Valentine, her +waiting lover.</p> + +<p>Now, she knew it was intentional, now she knew it was meant for her, +and she believed the references to Portuguese and to Pearline were also +meant for her.</p> + +<p>How it had been done she didn’t know,—but, she assumed Valentine had +somehow managed to get in on the radio programmes.</p> + +<p>What should she do? She couldn’t doubt that it was his method of trying +to find her. She couldn’t doubt that it was his wish that she should +return to him, and that he still wanted and loved her.</p> + +<p>She went out to the porch and told Mary Malden all about it.</p> + +<p>“H’m,” said that astute individual. “Tricky, if you ask me. And I don’t +believe your Val did it at all,—I believe it’s the work of those +smarty detectives,—they’re trying to find you, and they are tricking +you with that stuff. For, Valentine Loft couldn’t get those things into +a radio programme himself,—they won’t touch anything personal. But +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span> +the police could do it, of course.”</p> + +<p>Pauline was crestfallen. Suppose it should be the police, pretending +to send a message from Val, so that she would by chance hear it, and +divulge her hiding place!</p> + +<p>The more she thought it over, the more it seemed that Mary must be +right, and she would better not follow it up at all.</p> + +<p>But after she went to bed that night, she lay long awake thinking. And +the more she thought the more she felt she must speak to Val, let the +result be what it might.</p> + +<p>Hastily donning kimono and slippers, she went noiselessly downstairs to +the telephone. She called up Long Distance, and finally succeeded in +getting connection with Valhalla. The servant who answered her, went +immediately to call Loft.</p> + +<p>“Is that you, Val?” she said, timidly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Pauline, darling. I am coming to you. Where are you?”</p> + +<p>Now that she had succeeded, she was panic-stricken, but his dear voice +reassured her, and she whispered Mary Malden’s name before the receiver +fell from her trembling fingers.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII<br> +<span class="allsmcap">ON TO MAPLEDALE</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>IT was shortly before midnight that Valentine Loft received that +telephone message. The rest of the household had retired, and Loft was +himself preparing for bed.</p> + +<p>“Mary Malden,” he said to himself, as he hung up the receiver. “I +might have guessed it! Just the place for her, too. Now, let’s see—” +He looked at his watch. “Just about twelve. I suppose I ought to tell +Stone I’m going,—but I hate to waken him. Poor chap, he’s been working +hard today. Fibsy,—that’s the ticket! He won’t mind.”</p> + +<p>Going noiselessly through the halls, Loft tapped lightly at Fibsy’s +door. There was no response, but he could hear the boy’s breathing.</p> + +<p>“Sleeps like a log,—or a boy,” he smiled to himself. Then he opened +the door and went in.</p> + +<p>“McGuire,” he whispered, touching the lad on the shoulder.</p> + +<p>“What’s up?” and Fibsy was awake and alert in an instant. “Oh, Mr. +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span> +Loft, have you got her? Have you?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes,” and Loft was mystified at the question. “What do you know +about it?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I did it! I worked the radio people,—not the managers,—they +didn’t know about it,—”</p> + +<p>“Why, you blessed little chap! Have you really put over something like +that! Well, tell me about it some other time,—just now I want to leave +a message with you for Mr. Stone. I’m going up to New England—”</p> + +<p>“Oh, how are you going? When you coming back?” Fibsy sat upright in +bed, his eyes shining, his tousled red hair shining, and his very face +shining at the exciting news.</p> + +<p>“I’m going in my car,—and I hope to be back tomorrow afternoon or +evening.”</p> + +<p>“Lemme go with you? Oh, please, Mr. Loft, lemme go! I can be a help to +you somehow, and I wanta go! Please lemme! I’ve earned it, haven’t I?”</p> + +<p>“Why, yes, if you brought this about, you have earned it. Come on then, +can you dress quickly?”</p> + +<p>“Exceedin’ the limit!” and Fibsy was already out of bed and pulling on +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</span> +his stockings. “You goin’ to drive yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; meet me at the garage in about five minutes. And say, McGuire, +you write a note and stick it under Mr. Stone’s door, will you? Tell +him whatever you like.”</p> + +<p>“’Tis the same as done, sir,” and Fibsy began to flourish a hairbrush.</p> + +<p>And in less than fifteen minutes the two were tearing through the night +in the general direction of the Berkshire hills.</p> + +<p>“We needn’t break any speed laws,” Loft said, smiling at his own haste. +“I want to get there by daybreak, but not sooner. We can’t call on +ladies before sunup, can we?”</p> + +<p>“Where is she?” Fibsy asked, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“At Mapledale, a tiny village in a Berkshire valley. How did you work +it, boy? That is, if you did work it?”</p> + +<p>“I dunno whether it was my doin’s or not.” In his intense excitement +Fibsy was lapsing into his careless diction, of which Stone daily +endeavored to cure him.</p> + +<p>“You see, Mr. Loft, I got around the lecturers and singers in three +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</span> +big broadcasting stations, chancin’ that we’d hit Miss Fuller somehow. +Course the management wouldn’t allow it, for the simple reason that if +they let us do it, they couldn’t refuse anybody who wanted to send a +personal message. Could they?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose not,—go on.”</p> + +<p>“So I got hold of the performers,—private like,—and—well, I used up +all your five hundred dollars. But I guess it paid.”</p> + +<p>“I guess it did,—if that’s what brought this trip about.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you know?”</p> + +<p>“No, I don’t; Miss Fuller merely spoke to me,—and told me where she is +staying.”</p> + +<p>“H’m,—maybe I wasn’t so smart as I thought I was. Well, that’s what I +came along to see. That, and some few other matters. I told Mr. Stone +in the note not to tell anybody where we’d gone.”</p> + +<p>“How can he, when he doesn’t know himself?”</p> + +<p>“I mean, I told him we were on track of Miss Fuller, but to keep it +dark.”</p> + +<p>“I see. What sort of wireless messages did you send, McGuire?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</span></p> + +<p>“Well, I worked one into a Kids’ Bedtime Story, one into a Domestic +Lecture,—on housekeeping and the use of Pearline,—”</p> + +<p>“You rascal, how did you know that I have sometimes jokingly called +Miss Fuller, Pearline?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, me little chum, Her Royal Highness the Countess, told me that. +Well, then I got a chap I know to write a song about the ‘Valentine a +waitin’ for Pauline,’ and oh, I did up some several more such stunts. +It was one chance in five million that any of ’em would reach her +ears,—oh, Mr. Loft, I hope they did! I hope this whole trip is on +account o’ me! I put ’em on the Springfield Broadcasting Station, +and on Schenectady and on Newark. Howsomever, if she’d a called +anyway,—why I’m just as glad for you.”</p> + +<p>Loft smiled at the workings of the young mind that wanted the glory and +honor if they were due him,—but if not, he was still ready to rejoice +with those that did rejoice.</p> + +<p>“You’re sure she’s where you’re goin’, ain’t you, Mr. Loft?”</p> + +<p>“I am sure, McGuire. I knew her voice, and I heard what she said. Yes, +we’ll find her, all right.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</span></p> + +<p>They sped on in silence, now and then broken by a few words, but each +busy with his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>Loft put determinedly from his mind all question of Pauline’s conduct, +past, present or future; he thought only of the fact that he was to see +her, and soon.</p> + +<p>At last the electric lights began to pale as the first gleams of dawn +shone in the East. They were skimming through beautiful country, the +Berkshire hills rose about them, the valleys became visible more and +more plainly, and when the sun was fairly above the horizon, the +travellers were nearing the village of Mapledale.</p> + +<p>“It’s on the outskirts, I think, or even farther out in the country—”</p> + +<p>But farmers were up betimes, and directions were easily procured, +so that Loft’s swift roadster came to a halt at Miss Malden’s side +veranda, just as that lady herself opened her sitting-room door.</p> + +<p>“My land!” she exclaimed, “what in the world do you want?” “Pauline,” +answered Loft, briefly but very truthfully.</p> + +<p>“Why, she ain’t up yet. You’re Valentine Loft, I suppose?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes, and very much at your service. This is my young friend, Terence +McGuire. Can you take us in and give us breakfast,—it is Miss Malden, +isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mary Malden, melting before the magnetism of Loft’s voice +and manner. “Come right along in. Joe, he’ll put your car away for you. +A fine car, I should say.”</p> + +<p>“A fast car,” Loft said, smiling. “Brought us up from Westchester +County since midnight.”</p> + +<p>“You don’t say! Well, that beats mine. Come on in. My, but Pauline will +be surprised!”</p> + +<p>“Will you call her,—waken her, if necessary. I don’t feel as if I +could wait—”</p> + +<p>He broke off, smiling, and Mary Malden, after giving him a long look, +said, “You’re all right,—yes, I’ll call her. You two can come along +into this downstairs bedroom and wash up.”</p> + +<p>She showed them into the small, clean chamber, and went up to Pauline.</p> + +<p>Good Mary Malden felt a slight misgiving as to how her guest would +stand the shock of such sudden happiness, and she went softly into the +room where Pauline lay. It was on the other side of the house and the +car’s arrival had not wakened her.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</span></p> + +<p>But at Mary’s gentle touch she sat up quickly. “What is it, Mary? +Something especial, I know, or you wouldn’t wake me? Is it the +telephone?”</p> + +<p>“No, Pauline, dear,—it’s—”</p> + +<p>“I know! It’s Val, himself! Oh, Mary!” and Pauline tossed aside the +coverlets and sprang to the floor. “How did he get here? Oh, Mary!”</p> + +<p>Mary Malden tried to help Pauline dress, but her fingers were slow and +awkward compared to Pauline’s flying gestures.</p> + +<p>In less time than ever before, Pauline made a toilette that lacked no +grace or charm because of its hasty completion.</p> + +<p>Then she ran downstairs, and in a moment she was in the arms of +Valentine Loft.</p> + +<p>“Pauly! Pauly!” was all he could find to say, and Pauline said even +less.</p> + +<p>Miss Malden discreetly retired to the kitchen, to order extra +breakfast, but Fibsy, unabashed in the presence of this unembarrassed +demonstration, stood looking at the pair.</p> + +<p>Nor did they mind at all.</p> + +<p>“Well, Terence,” Loft said, after a moment, “this is Miss Fuller. +Pauline, Mr. McGuire.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</span></p> + +<p>“Aw, I’m just Fibsy,” the boy said, abashed now that attention was +drawn to himself. “But, I say, Mr. Loft, I’m glad you’ve got her!”</p> + +<p>“So am I,” and Loft kissed Pauline again. “Now tell us, Pauly,” he +said, “did you get any radio message?—young McGuire, here, will burst +if he doesn’t find that out soon.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, I did,—and, Val,—that’s why I telephoned.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, bless the Lord!” cried Fibsy, piously. “It worked, it worked! +Shades of Vidocq and Lecoq, am I the little wizard,—or ain’t I?”</p> + +<p>“You certainly are, Fibs,” and Loft was as astonished and as grateful +as even the boy could wish.</p> + +<p>Mary Malden came in to hear about it, and as they sat down to her +excellent breakfast they went over Fibsy’s clever and successful plan +in all its details.</p> + +<p>“But,” and Loft looked at Pauline reproachfully, “you ought to have +called me without that.”</p> + +<p>After breakfast the pair were left alone, and then, for the first time +a sudden constraint fell on them.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</span></p> + +<p>Pauline, all at once became aware of the wrong and injustice that she +had done this man, and almost began to doubt his forgiveness.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, dear heart,” he said, reading her thoughts, “don’t feel that +way about it. I understand,—see, I understand perfectly why you had +to—yes, you just <i>had</i> to, keep your poor little secret from +me. I was a brute to denounce divorce so emphatically as I did, but +since I did, of course you couldn’t tell me your own history. Now, +forget it, darling, once and for all. It’s past history; your life +with Curran—Dwyer, is a sealed book,—more, a destroyed book. We need +never mention it again,—though should the subject come up, it is not +taboo,—we are not afraid of it! It is just a negligible matter, that’s +all. Now, Pauline,—did you kill Curran?”</p> + +<p>“No, Valentine,” and Pauline’s gaze met his own, truthfully and +fearlessly.</p> + +<p>“I knew it, dear, of course, but I had to have your word. Then will you +go back home with me and face the music?”</p> + +<p>“Of course I will.”</p> + +<p>“But it isn’t pleasant music. Many people think you did kill him,—and +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</span> +the reason I want you to go there, is to prove your innocence.”</p> + +<p>“Can we?”</p> + +<p>“I’m hoping Stone can do it. He’s exceedingly clever,—and I think he +has a few cards up his sleeve he hasn’t played yet.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think did it, Val?”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t the least idea. I can’t see any way it could have been done, +nor any way anybody could have done it.”</p> + +<p>“Then we must just tell the truth, and do the best we can. I suppose +everybody knows about—about me?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, everybody does. But there will be no unpleasantness that I +can shield you from. Pauline,—dear, will you do this? Will you marry +me before we go back?”</p> + +<p>Pauline hesitated only an instant, then, looking deep into Loft’s eyes, +she put her hands in his and whispered, “Yes, I will.”</p> + +<p>“Hooray!” Loft cried, in such a gay, boyish tone that Miss Malden came +running in.</p> + +<p>“What are you two grinning at?” she asked.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</span></p> + +<p>“We’re going to be married in a few minutes,” Loft replied, kissing her +in the exuberance of his happiness.</p> + +<p>“My good land!” exclaimed the spinster, equally flustered by the news +and the salute. “Where? Here?”</p> + +<p>“Of course,” Pauline said, radiant with smiles. “Help us out, won’t +you, Mary? Can you get a minister?”</p> + +<p>“I can,” and Fibsy’s red head poked itself in at the door. “I saw +a dominie’s sign on a church as we came through the village. Dr. +Messiter, is he the one you want, Miss Malden?”</p> + +<p>“My gracious, I don’t know! Yes, I suppose so. He’s my own pastor. Yes, +of course; can you drive a car, boy?”</p> + +<p>“Yep, of course. Shall I take yours, Mr. Loft?”</p> + +<p>“No! you young rascal, you’d break every bone in its body. Take Miss +Malden’s Ford-Royce!”</p> + +<p>“And do I stop at the caterer’s?” Fibsy suggested, his eyes dancing.</p> + +<p>“Yes,—here, take Matilda along with you, she’ll know what to get.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, come now, Miss Malden,” Loft put in, “this isn’t a wedding, you +know,—just a marriage. We want to get back home by noon.”</p> + +<p>“What’s your hurry?”</p> + +<p>“The matter is serious, Miss Malden. I want to marry Pauline, of +course, but I want to marry her thus quickly, so I can protect her from +all sorts of troubles she is up against. Get your minister, get some +ice cream,—if that’s what Terence wants,—he deserves it,—but don’t +delay us for any fol-de-rols. Am I right, Pauline?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Val. It is a serious matter to us all. Shall I go and dress?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, dear, run along.”</p> + +<p>Loft’s voice was infinitely gentle, and Pauline’s eyes filled with +tears as she went to dress for her second wedding ceremony.</p> + +<p>Mary came to help her and it was in silence that they chose one of the +few simple frocks Pauline had obtained during her stay with her friend. +There was a white Canton crêpe which they agreed upon, and in less than +half an hour, the bride was ready, and almost at the same moment Fibsy +arrived with the clergyman, and a consignment from the confectioner’s.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</span></p> + +<p>And then in the presence only of Mary Malden and Terence McGuire the +pair were united and the benediction pronounced on their bowed heads.</p> + +<p>The feast was done justice to by Fibsy and the minister, but the other +members of the wedding party could not partake.</p> + +<p>Pauline was nervous, but Loft was strong and firm enough for both of +them.</p> + +<p>“I can conquer anything now,” he said exultantly, “since I have you for +my very own,” and cutting short the loving farewells between his wife +and her dear friend, he tucked her into the car beside him, leaving the +small rear seat for Fibsy.</p> + +<p>Off they went, the cook Matilda appearing from the kitchen to throw +some rice after them, and Miss Malden and the clergyman sat down to +talk it over.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Loft’s car flew back over the road to Valhalla. They did not +go so fast but that they could enjoy the delightful ride and the still +greater delight of each other’s company. And Fibsy, like a veritable +God of the Machine, sat up behind and blessed his lucky star that he +had done something that would please F. Stone.</p> + +<p>As they drove up to the house at last, Fibsy, jumping out of the car, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</span> +was caught by Stone, who carried him off for a quick confab.</p> + +<p>“Never mind, McGuire,” Stone said, as the boy began a tale of the +radio, “it was fine,—but now you’re to fly to New York like a +bandersnatch. There’s a car waiting to take you,—go first to Hugh +Curran’s rooms at the hotel, here’s the address, on this paper, and get +from his shelves the book noted here. Then hurry around to the auction +rooms,—see, the address, and bid up on this item marked in this +catalogue.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,” and Fibsy choked back his disappointment at not telling of +his triumph, while he listened carefully to Stone’s directions.</p> + +<p>“Don’t bid yourself, but get some attendant there to bid for you. If +you can’t get the item for two hundred dollars, give it up, but go as +high as that. Here’s the money. Keep yourself out of sight, but notice +who is bidding against you, and if it’s some agent, find out, adroitly, +who is his principal. Got it all?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir,—Good-by. Back here?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, as soon as possible. Keep the Loft car and come back in it. +The chauffeur is at your orders. Don’t muff anything, McGuire, much +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</span> +depends on you.”</p> + +<p>Fibsy touched his cap, and ran. He knew when Stone called him McGuire, +it was because he was putting real responsibilities on him, and he was +more than willing to do his best.</p> + +<p>Once in the car, and the chauffeur speeding toward the city, Fibsy had +opportunity to look over the memoranda Stone had given him, and which +was clear though concise. The matter mastered, he gave himself up to +the happy reflections on his good work with the radio; and on the +loveliness of the lady for whom he had done it, even before he had seen +her at all. He greatly admired Loft, and now, more than ever, since he +had seen him rush a wedding through in less than an hour!</p> + +<p>“Going some!” Fibsy decided, and then he curled up for a nap <i>en +route</i>.</p> + +<p>In New York he did all Stone had instructed him. He went to the hotel, +got the desired book,—a queer looking old thing he thought it, too, +though in a most new, shiny and elaborate case, and then he went to the +auction rooms.</p> + +<p>Fibsy had never seen a book auction before, but he was quick to +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</span> +apprehend conditions, and soon found an agent to bid for him. The item +he was after would not be put up for half an hour or so, and Fibsy, +remembering Stone’s caution to keep out of sight, found a seat behind +some long window draperies.</p> + +<p>However, he saw no one he knew, except Bob Baldwin, who he supposed +went to all book auctions.</p> + +<p>“Funny business, dealing in old ragged books,” he thought, but as he +watched the proceedings he soon learned that wiser heads than his set +great value on the antique volumes.</p> + +<p>At last the item he was interested in went up at sale.</p> + +<p>To his surprise it was only one page of a book! What in the world could +any one want of one page! But the bidding was brisk, and soon the +hundred-dollar mark was passed.</p> + +<p>Fibsy’s agent kept on, and as the bids became higher, more bidders +dropped out. At last the agent kept on against one other only, and +finally as two hundred was overbid, Fibsy’s agent ceased, and the page +went to the other bidder.</p> + +<p>“Who’s it gone to?” Fibsy asked of his man, as he returned the money +Fibsy had advanced.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</span></p> + +<p>“To Mr. Baldwin,—he’s a swell dealer,—doesn’t even call himself a +dealer,—a commission buyer. He would have gone on forever, I guess. +Probably had an unlimited bid for somebody.”</p> + +<p>“Prob’ly,” agreed Fibsy, for Stone had told him not to chatter.</p> + +<p>Into the car and home to the Loft place the boy went next, taking care +not to be seen by Baldwin, who left the auction room just ahead of him.</p> + +<p>On the way home, Fibsy mused over the strange vagaries of this game of +book collecting, and determined to study up the matter. He didn’t like +to be so utterly ignorant of anything that might mean so much.</p> + +<p>He went at once to Stone with his report and received that gentleman’s +unstinted praises for the work in New York, and also for the ingenious +radio stunt he had pulled off.</p> + +<p>Fibsy blushed with pleasure at receiving the highest compliments +Fleming Stone had ever yet paid him.</p> + +<p>“Aw, shucks,” he said, greatly embarrassed, “it wasn’t anything of +a trick. I just happened to pull it off. Now, F. Stone, where do we +stand?”</p> + +<p>Stone looked grave.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</span></p> + +<p>“The case is about finished,” he said slowly. “I’m sorry at the +results, but we must take what comes.”</p> + +<p>“You know who killed Mr. Curran?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, Fibs.”</p> + +<p>“You know how and why?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“When do I get it?”</p> + +<p>“After dinner tonight, in the library, I shall have to tell all.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll be there,” said Terence McGuire.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</span></p> + +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII<br> +<span class="allsmcap">THE TRUTH AT LAST</span></h2> +</div> + + +<p>DINNER at Valhalla that night partook of the nature of a wedding feast.</p> + +<p>Pauline, now that there was no longer any secret about her past, +blossomed into a happy bride, and except for the cloud of tragedy that +still hung over the household, all was serene and almost jubilant.</p> + +<p>Loft was unable to contain his joy, and almost forgot the Curran affair +in his new-found happiness.</p> + +<p>But not every one was so sure of Pauline’s innocence as was her +new-made husband and her intimate friends.</p> + +<p>In fact, Kinney had sent a message that he must have an interview with +her that evening, and Stone, to whom the matter was referred, sent back +a message for Kinney to come to the house at nine o’clock.</p> + +<p>Hetty Dwyer was frantic.</p> + +<p>Knowing all she now knew, she was positive Pauline had killed her +brother and even went so far as to hint that it was because the divorce +was not absolute, and that he was an obstacle in the way of Pauline’s +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</span> +marriage to Loft.</p> + +<p>“What have you done, Mr. Stone?” she burst out during the dinner +hour. “What have you accomplished? Have you established Miss Fuller’s +innocence,—or Mr. Loft’s? For my part I could easily believe that +he killed my brother on Miss Fuller’s behalf! So far as I can +see, you have sat around here for four or five days and have done +nothing—nothing at all! You have refused to cooperate with the police, +yet you have done nothing by yourself to solve the mystery. You accept +the story Miss Fuller tells, you look no further, but, influenced by +her feminine charm, you believe her unsupported word. Myself, I know +her of old,—I know—”</p> + +<p>“There, there, Miss Dwyer,” Stone said, gently, “don’t fling questions +at me so rapidly. Nobody could answer that rapid-fire list,—I doubt if +you remember them yourself. And, too, I submit that I have made some +progress in this matter. But I don’t think the subject a good one for +dinner-table conversation, and I will ask you to wait until we can all +adjourn to the library. Then I have a few statements to make.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</span></p> + +<p>“I’m glad to hear that,” the Countess exclaimed. “I confess that I’m +growing impatient. It’s delightful to have Pauline and Val married, but +I shall feel more quiet in my mind when this other matter is settled. +As a matter of fact, I want to get away, but I won’t go, until I learn +the results of Mr. Stone’s investigation of this case.”</p> + +<p>“We want to go, too,” Anna said; “and Ned won’t stir a step until the +whole thing is settled.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t desert the ship,” Knox put in. “Val and Angel and Roly and I +are a sort of committee to look into this horrid affair, and I’m sure +not one of us will leave until we know the truth. I admit we have none +of us done much to help the investigation, but that isn’t because we +haven’t tried.”</p> + +<p>“And, too, it isn’t necessary for us to do anything now that Mr. Stone +is on the job,” said Angel, looking at the detective. “But I shall be +glad to get away soon, for the book auction sales are beginning and +I’ve some special orders on hand.”</p> + +<p>“You can run back and forth in the cars, whenever you like, Bob,” Loft +said. “Just give your own orders.”</p> + +<p>“Thank you, Val, but I ought to be back in town soon.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</span></p> + +<p>“As far as the discovery of the facts regarding the death of Mr. Curran +is concerned, I can tell you that this evening,” Stone said, as Pauline +rose from the table.</p> + +<p>She had taken her place as mistress of Valhalla easily and naturally. +Secure in her own knowledge of her innocence, sure that none of her +real friends suspected her, she also felt confidence that Fleming Stone +would prove her case to the local police,—and then, she hoped, she and +Loft could go away for a honeymoon.</p> + +<p>But a little later, when the party had gathered in the library, +and when Detective Kinney arrived, Pauline saw from his unfriendly +glances that the local police still deemed her guilty,—or, at least, +implicated in the tragic death of Hugh Curran.</p> + +<p>“To begin with,” Stone said, “you remember that there was a discussion +as to the preferable method of killing a man.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, don’t rake that up again,” Ned Knox almost groaned. “I’m positive +that none of us who took part in that fool discussion ever carried out +any such a plan.”</p> + +<p>“You may be sure of that,—but I’m not,” Stone said, and he looked at +Knox so earnestly, that Roly Mears concluded at once that Ned was the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</span> +murderer after all!</p> + +<p>“But, leaving that for the moment,” Stone went on, “I will tell you +first, what I discovered from an examination of Mr. Curran’s body. +Although the doctors made a careful autopsy, they didn’t chance to +discover what I found,—by looking for it. That is a small puncture +in the jaw of the dead man, through which, there can be no doubt, the +poison was introduced into his system.”</p> + +<p>“The hypodermic needle!” cried Roly Mears, quickly.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t said so,” Stone returned, “but I do say that ‘the needle’ +figured prominently among the clues I have worked from.”</p> + +<p>“What needle?” Angel asked, interestedly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, an old needle—” Stone began, “that—”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” Roly exclaimed, “an old rusty needle! Blood poisoning!”</p> + +<p>“Suppose you let Mr. Stone do the talking,” Kinney growled out; “we are +more interested in his recital, Mr. Mears, than in your comments.”</p> + +<p>Before Roly could resent this speech, Stone resumed.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</span></p> + +<p>“Without further delay,” he said, “I will tell you what I at first +assumed. If I wrongly suspected an innocent man, wait, at least, until +you hear the whole story.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Fuller,—I beg your pardon,—Mrs. Loft, will you answer a few +questions?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Pauline, a little agitated, but reassured by Loft’s +clasp of her hand.</p> + +<p>“Then you are willing to state that you visited Mr. Curran,—whom you +knew as Mr. Dwyer, in his room that night?”</p> + +<p>“I did.”</p> + +<p>“As late as two o’clock, or after?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.”</p> + +<p>“For what purpose?”</p> + +<p>“To ask him to stop persecuting me, and to obtain from him my picture +which he had in his watch-case.”</p> + +<p>“And his attitude?”</p> + +<p>Pauline hesitated, then said, bravely, “He was, he stated, still fond +of me, and asked me to remarry him. When I refused, he became sarcastic +and even brutally rude. I knew from something he had said, that he had +some letters of mine with him,—I knew that he probably had hidden +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</span> +them in a drawer beneath his handkerchiefs,—for—I knew his ways. I +found the letters, and I took them, also I took his watch, which then +lay on the table between us, and I ran away to my own room.”</p> + +<p>“Leaving Mr. Curran alive and well?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly so. He was laughing at my discomfiture as I closed the door +behind me. He chose to treat the whole matter lightly,—though to me it +was even then a tragedy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; now, think carefully, Mrs. Loft. Did you chance to see on the +table, or anywhere, a toothpick sealed in a printed paper?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there was one there,—a Country Club one. I paid no attention to +it, but I do remember that it was there. Why?”</p> + +<p>“I will tell you in a moment. Remember it well,—it may prove to be +an alibi. However, you have an alibi aside from that. The doctors +are agreed that Mr. Curran died not earlier than four o’clock in the +morning. Therefore, he was alive at least an hour and a half after your +departure from his room. Mr. Meredith fixed that time at two-thirty, +and you say that yourself. Now, if Mr. Curran was killed by the poison +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</span> +at four o’clock, who could have done it? Also, how did the murderer +make his exit?”</p> + +<p>“May I call your attention to the fact, Mr. Stone,” said Kinney, +ponderously, “that those are the questions that have confronted us from +the beginning.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I have learned the answers to them, Mr. Kinney.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed,—and how did the murderer get in?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Curran let him in.”</p> + +<p>“And how did he leave the room?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Curran let him out.”</p> + +<p>“You are pleased to be mysterious.”</p> + +<p>“Not at all. The murderer did not do his killing while he was in the +room.”</p> + +<p>“Then Mr. Curran killed himself?”</p> + +<p>“No, I do not put it that way. But I will tell you my discovery. +The puncture in Mr. Curran’s jaw, which I discovered, is inside the +mouth, and against a molar tooth. Can you wonder, that I deduced a +poisoned toothpick? At any rate I did conclude that the instrument +of death, for I could find no other. I pictured Mr. Curran, after +Miss Fuller’s departure, sitting down to think matters over, perhaps +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</span> +eating a few of the nuts of which he was fond, and then, naturally, +using the toothpick,—which, let us say, had been previously dipped in +hydrocyanic acid.”</p> + +<p>“Could such a case be possible?” asked Kinney.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Stone replied, “I have consulted with expert chemists who assure +me it is entirely possible.”</p> + +<p>“You’re making it sound like my work,” Angel said, with a rueful glance +at Stone. “But I plead not guilty.”</p> + +<p>“And wisely,” Stone returned. “Indeed, the first thing I did after +these discoveries was to examine the quill toothpick which I found in +the waste-basket. It was absolutely free from any trace of poison.”</p> + +<p>“Then who did it?” Bob asked, his handsome face eagerly inquisitive.</p> + +<p>“That’s what I wondered,” Stone said; “for I was so sure I had struck +the right trail. Of course, I knew that Mr. Baldwin had given Curran +that Club toothpick, and it seemed a clever deduction. But that clue +failed. So then I began to hunt a motive. And the motive I found.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</span></p> + +<p>“The motive!” cried Miss Dwyer; “then you can tell who killed my +brother. Tell us quickly, Mr. Stone.”</p> + +<p>“As quickly as possible. But the truth is so strange, the evidence +so slight, the clues so hazy that though I am convinced myself, I +cannot convince you unless you listen attentively and follow closely +my arguments. I am sure, now, that the man who killed Mr. Curran was +actuated by some circumstance connected with Mr. Curran’s collection of +books.”</p> + +<p>“That interests me,” Angel said; “I’ve rather suspected that all along.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Stone proceeded. “Now, the night of his death, Mr. Curran was +deeply interested in some items in certain catalogues.”</p> + +<p>“He was,” Angel nodded. “He discussed them with me.”</p> + +<p>“One catalogue in particular, Mr. Curran possessed, was not found in +his room, afterward.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know?” Kinney asked.</p> + +<p>“Because it was the catalogue that contained ‘The Needle.’”</p> + +<p>“‘The Needle!’” Knox cried; “was that a book, then?”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</span></p> + +<p>“Yes; any great collector would know at once, that it means a very old +and rare book, called ‘Gammer Gurton’s Needle’—a volume dated 1575.”</p> + +<p>“My brother had that book in his library,” said Miss Dwyer, proudly. “I +remember it well.”</p> + +<p>“So does Mr. Baldwin, no doubt,” Stone said; “in fact, Mr. Baldwin +bought it for him.”</p> + +<p>“I did,” said Angel, “and I had a high old time to find a copy.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; now, in this catalogue I speak of there was not a copy of this +book for sale, but there was a single page of it. As some of you may +not know, book collectors pay good prices for even one leaf of a very +rare book.”</p> + +<p>Fibsy sat on the edge of his chair, enthralled by the conversation. +Well he knew, after his afternoon’s experience, how collectors bid up +on the single leaf of a rare book!</p> + +<p>“Well,” Stone proceeded, “as is generally known, there are unscrupulous +book dealers as well as dealers in other wares. Now, a favorite scheme +of theirs is to utilize in various ways these single leaves.”</p> + +<p>“Aside from selling them as fragments?” Loft inquired.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</span></p> + +<p>“Oh, yes. They are really ingenious about it. Take this ‘Gammer +Gurton’s Needle,’ for instance. It was published in London by Thomas +Colwell, in 1575. Now, you can easily see, that the title page of such +a book would be its chief requisite. The title page missing, the volume +would be worth little in comparison with a perfect copy. So, the clever +book dealer, substitutes another title page, and so produces what is +apparently a complete copy.”</p> + +<p>“Where does he get the other title page?” asked Baldwin, his +supercilious air denoting his superior knowledge of these matters.</p> + +<p>“That’s the ingenious part of it. He photographs the real one.”</p> + +<p>“I’ve heard of it,” Bob said, “but I doubt if it can be done +successfully. I know about these things, you see.”</p> + +<p>“It might not be done in a manner to deceive you, Mr. Baldwin, or any +one who is a real connoisseur,—but it could easily fool the average +reader,—even the average collector.”</p> + +<p>“My brother’s copy is perfect,” Miss Dwyer informed them. “I have heard +him say so,—and it has been pronounced upon by experts.”</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</span></p> + +<p>“Doubtless,” agreed Stone. “Yet, here is what happened. Mr. Curran +had a catalogue of an auction sale, that listed a page of this old +book. Whereupon, he went to his own copy and on examination found that +several pages of his book had been extracted and photographed pages had +been put in their places. This must have been done, Miss Dwyer, since +the expert you spoke of examined the book.</p> + +<p>“However, it had been done, and naturally, Mr. Curran was greatly +astounded and that was the matter of ‘The Needle’ he was discussing +with Mr. Baldwin.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” and Bob nodded his head, gravely. “I hoped to keep the matter +quiet, until I could discover who did it. But since you know of it, I +will ask you to consider it confidential. I secured one of the missing +pages at a sale this afternoon,—and I hope to get the others. I told +Mr. Curran I hoped to do this, and he was greatly pleased.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” Stone said; “now, you can all see, why I suspect that some one +implicated in this theft is the man who put Mr. Curran out of the way. +And, returning for a moment, to the matter of the toothpick, may I +inquire if any one noticed a toothpick on the floor the morning the +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</span> +body was found.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, there was one,” Knox said, thinking back. “Don’t you remember, +Angel, you found it on the floor—”</p> + +<p>“And threw it in the waste-basket,” supplemented Roly.</p> + +<p>“Threw another one in!” cried Stone, triumphantly. “Mr. Baldwin is +the clever criminal, he is the ingenious book thief,—it was he who +provided the poisoned toothpick, and after it had done its work, +he adroitly substituted a clean one for the other and placed it in +Curran’s waste-basket.”</p> + +<p>“Pretty work, Mr. Stone,” Baldwin said, “but not very convincing. I can +see how you can perhaps think that is all so, but I defy you to prove +it.”</p> + +<p>“Proof isn’t necessary, for you are going to confess,” Stone said, +coolly. “However, I will say, that here is the paper that contained the +toothpick in question. A mere glance will show you all that it has been +unsealed and sealed up again. This, of course, after the poisoned quill +was put into it.</p> + +<p>“Also, I have the book of Mr. Curran’s that shows not only the +photographed page in the middle of the book, but also photographed +title page and the three back pages. You see, Mr. Baldwin borrowed +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</span> +this book from Mr. Curran a few months ago. He photographed the pages, +and put them in the Curran copy, using the real ones to complete a +deficient copy that he had been able to buy for a small price. This +now perfect copy, he sold for twenty thousand dollars. The sale is on +record.”</p> + +<p>“The jig is up!” Angel Baldwin said, but his face paled. Clearly his +jaunty air was hard to retain. “How did you catch on, Mr. Stone?”</p> + +<p>“Curran revealed it himself. He knew of your dishonesty. He said, you +all remember, ‘Mr. S.’, and asked if that meant anything to anybody. It +showed Mr. Baldwin that Curran knew all, and meant to follow it up.”</p> + +<p>“What had Mr. S. to do with the book?” Knox inquired.</p> + +<p>“The title page of that old volume reads, ‘Gammer Gurton’s Needle, a +right, pithy comedy, by Mr. S.’ So, Curran’s quick wit chose that way +of revealing his knowledge of the theft of the pages.”</p> + +<p>“That’s right,” Bob said, “it’s all true. The man was ingenious, and +so was I. You see, he knew not only of the ‘Needle’ pages, but some +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</span> +few other similar bits of work I’ve put over. It doesn’t hurt the +collectors. If they don’t know it,—and they rarely do, the books +are just as good for them. And Curran brought it on himself. He +threatened to expose me, wouldn’t listen to my plea to hush it up if +I made good to him. So,—when he wanted a toothpick,—I conjured up +that scheme,—and it worked. Then I thought if I substituted a clean +toothpick that next morning, it would all blow over. Of course, I +should have confessed if Pauly had not been cleared. But after she was +free from suspicion I thought I could brazen it out. But F. Stone is +too many for me. Well, life’s a gamble, and I’ve lost.”</p> + +<p>And then, though Stone was alertly watching for that very thing, Bob +popped something into his mouth and swallowed it.</p> + +<p>“I feared it,” Stone said, springing to his side. “I watched him—but +he fooled me. Perhaps it’s just as well.”</p> + +<p>Perhaps it was. No one wanted to see poor old Angel stand trial +whatever the outcome might have been. And there was hope for nothing +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</span> +but the extreme penalty.</p> + +<p>“Who’d ever think it of Bob?” Knox exclaimed, as, the women having been +put out of the room, the men clustered round the still figure.</p> + +<p>“Yet, in a way, it was like him,” Loft said, musingly. “He always +wanted something for nothing,—to get money without doing work. And he +thought himself so secure in this nefarious business of his, that to +find Curran ready to expose him was more than he could stand. And his +quick, clever brain seized on that toothpick idea at once. Of course, +he had the poison stuff in his photographic outfit.”</p> + +<p>“You get out of here, Valentine,” Knox said; “we’ll look after all the +necessary details. You go and pick up Pauline and I’ll call your car, +and you two fly down to New York and begin your honeymoon. Skittle, +now!”</p> + +<p>Loft hesitated a moment, but the thought of Pauline decided him. “I +will, Ned, you’re a brick,” and Loft went off at once.</p> + +<p>“Come, Pauly,” he said, as he returned to her in the drawing room, +<span class="pagenum" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</span> +“we’re going to hook jack! Get your wraps.”</p> + +<p>“I believe I promised to obey,” said Pauline, smiling through tears. +“Will you look after the house, Countess?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, of course,” and getting the drift of things, the Countess and +Anna hurried off with Pauline to throw some things in a suit-case for +her.</p> + +<p>And in less than a half hour the bride and groom started on their +wedding journey, the rest of the household went to their rooms and +Detective Kinney took charge of all that was left of the gay, careless, +and irresponsible Angel Bob Baldwin, while he mused on the cleverness +of the great detective who had deduced the truth from the “feathers +left around.”</p> + + +<p class="nindc space-above2 space-below2">THE END</p> + + + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="transnote spa1"> +<p class="nindc"><b>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</b></p> + + +<p>Simple typographical errors have been silently corrected; unbalanced +quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and +otherwise left unbalanced.</p> + +<p>Punctuation, hyphenation, and spelling were made consistent when a +predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they +were not changed.</p> +</div></div> + +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75642 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + diff --git a/75642-h/images/cover.jpg b/75642-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..aac777e --- /dev/null +++ b/75642-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/75642-h/images/logo.jpg b/75642-h/images/logo.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0847709 --- /dev/null +++ b/75642-h/images/logo.jpg diff --git a/75642-h/images/title.jpg b/75642-h/images/title.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..76e4474 --- /dev/null +++ b/75642-h/images/title.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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