XIII
JANET IS MYSTERIOUS
"How clearly you put it!" exclaimed Janet in response to my laststatement. "That is exactly what we have to do. Find some other personwho had a motive, and who must have found an opportunity."
"I will," I vowed, earnestly, "but it will help me so much if you canonly bring yourself to trust me more fully. You know, you must know,that I have only your good at heart."
I should have stopped right here, but it chanced that just at thatmoment Laura was called away on some household affair and left me alonewith Janet. So, acting on an uncontrollable impulse, I said further: "Ithink if you knew how fervently I desire to do all I can for you, youwould look upon me more in the light of a friend."
"Are you my friend?" and Janet Pembroke's dark eyes looked into minewith a wistful gaze and an expression of more gentleness than I hadthought the girl capable of. And yet I felt an intuitive certainty thatif I met that expression with a similar one, she would at once flashback to her haughty demeanor and inscrutable air.
"I am your friend," I said, but said it with a frankstraightforwardness, which I hoped would appeal to her.
But, alas, I had chosen the wrong manner; or I had made a mistakesomewhere, for the wistfulness died out of her eyes and her lip curleddisdainfully.
"You're not a friend," she stated, calmly; "you are my lawyer, I haveemployed you as such; and when your work is finished, I shall pay youyour fees. I trust you will use your best efforts in my behalf, and Imay say I have confidence in your knowledge and your skill in yourprofession."
I have heard of people who felt as if they had been douched with coldwater, but I felt as if I had been overwhelmed by an icy avalanche! Ihad no idea why the sudden change occurred in her treatment of me, but Iwas determined to meet her on her own ground. Moreover, my interest wasrather piqued at her strange behavior, and I was not at all sorry that Iwas to carry on the case for this wilful beauty.
"I thank you, Miss Pembroke," I said in my most coldly polite manner,"for the confidence you express in my ability to handle your case; and Iassure you I shall put forth my best efforts in anything I can or may dofor you. As I told you, it would help us both if you were more frankwith me,--but that is as you choose."
"It isn't as I choose!" the girl burst forth, "I am _forced_,--forced bycircumstances to act as I do! I would willingly tell you all, but Icannot,--I cannot! Mr. Landon, you _must_ believe me!"
"I do believe you," I exclaimed, softened at once by her pained outcry."I confess I cannot understand you, but I will promise to believe you."
"I cannot understand myself," she said, slowly, and again a trace ofthat wistfulness showed in her eyes and in her drooping mouth. "I do sowant a friend."
Was the girl a coquette? was she leading me on, purposely, and enjoyingmy bewilderment at her sudden transitions of mood?
At any rate she should not fool me twice in the same way. Not againwould I offer her my friendship to have it scornfully rejected.
"I think you do need a friend, Miss Pembroke," I said in a tone, which Ipurposely made very kind; "and I can assure you you will find a true onein my sister, Mrs. Mulford. I know she is already fond of you, and itrests with yourself whether or not she is your firm and faithfulfriend."
As I said this, I rose, for I was just about to go away to my office,where some urgent business required my immediate attention. I hadintended a very formal leave-taking, but to my surprise, Janet rose too,and putting out both hands said, "Thank you, Mr. Landon,--very deeply. Ishall be only too glad to be friends with your sister, if she will giveher friendship to a girl so unfortunately placed as myself."
This remark could have called forth various kinds of response. But Iknew it wiser to indulge in none of them, and with a formal, "goodafternoon," I went away.
There was business that required my presence at my office thatafternoon, but I went also to get an opportunity to think by myselfabout the case I had undertaken. I seemed to have entered upon a newphase of existence, and one which was maddeningly contradictory. Aboveall else, I was surprised by the fact that I had fallen so suddenly andirrevocably in love. As I had reached the age of thirty-two without aserious love affair, I had come to the conclusion that my fate was tolead a bachelor life. But with Laura to look after me I had not feltthis a deprivation. Now, however, all was changed, and I knew thatunless I first cleared Janet's name from all taint of suspicion, andthen won her for my wife, I should never know another happy hour.
Although I intended to think over the legal aspects and the significantfacts of the case I had undertaken, I found myself instead indulging inrose-colored dreams of what might happen in the future. It was perhapsthe buoyant hopefulness consequent upon my realization of my love forJanet, but at any rate I felt not the slightest doubt that I should beable to free her entirely from any hint of suspicion.
The fact that she was a mystery, that I could not understand herbehavior or sound the depths of her nature, in no way detracted from myadmiration of her. Indeed it rather whetted my interest and made allother women seem ordinary and tame by comparison. I deliberately assuredmyself that I had gone thus far through the world, heart free, for thevery reason that never before had I met a woman who was out of theordinary. Then, too, Janet's beauty was of no usual type. Other womenmight possess dark eyes and hair, red lips and a perfect complexion, butsurely no one else ever had so expressive a face, where the emotionsplayed in turn, each more beautiful than the last.
Had I seen only her exhibitions of pride, anger or dismay, I might nothave been so attracted; but having caught that fleeting smile ofwistfulness, and that wonderful gaze of gentleness, I was fullydetermined to win her for my own, and to make those expressions theusual ones on her beloved face.
The question of her possible guilt or complicity in guilt bothered menot at all. I knew she was innocent, and my only problem now was how toprove it to an unjust and suspicious world. But it should be done, for Iwould devote my best and bravest efforts to the cause, and I felt sureof ultimate triumph.
If the thought obtruded itself on my mind that circumstances wereagainst me, that my way would be a difficult one, and that even I myselfwere I not blinded by love, must feel some doubts, I resolutely ignoredit, and resolved to succeed in spite of it.
But I knew that the work I had undertaken would require not only theexercise of my highest legal powers, but also my most dextrous andingenious methods of handling.
I therefore looked after only such other matters as required myimmediate attention, and then gave myself up unreservedly to thePembroke case. Although technically it could not yet be called a case, Iwell knew if no other important evidence was brought out Janet wouldcertainly be arrested, at least for complicity. Others might not believeher statement that she did not open the door to any one that night. Asfor myself, I did not know whether I believed it or not, and,furthermore, I did not care. I had determined to accept all Janet saidas true, for a working basis. Let the results be what they might, letthe truth be what it would, I would clear her name before the world, indefiance, if necessary, of my own beliefs.
I set myself to work, and, with all the ingenuity acquired by my legaltraining, endeavored to construct a case. But it was by far the mostdifficult task I had ever attempted. The facts were so few and soevidential that it seemed to be an occasion for two and two making four,and possessing no ability to make anything else. Clearly I must collectmore evidence, if--and though I didn't say this even to myself, I admitit haunted my brain--even if it had to be manufactured!
But this was absurd; there was no occasion to manufacture evidence, allI had to do was to go and get it. There were the several clues that Ihad myself discovered, yet to be traced to their source.
And yet, though I couldn't myself understand why, those clues seemed topromise little. I thought of those engaging detectives in fiction, howwith one or two tiny clues they are enabled to walk straight to themurderer's front door and ring his bell. Yet here was I, with half adozen clues at
my disposal, and they seemed to me not at all indicativeof the murderer's whereabouts.
I wouldn't admit it to myself, but of course the truth must be, thatsince Mr. Pembroke had been murdered while the only entrance to thehouse was securely fastened, those precious clues could not have beenleft there by the criminal! If this disheartening thought attempted topresent itself, I promptly thrust it aside, and remembered only that Ihad the clues, if they were clues, and certainly they did not pointtoward Janet.
What had been called the principal clue, the hat-pin, the woman'sweapon,--I ignored. I was not considering anything that pointed in adirection I did not choose to look.
That was probably the real reason why I did not go at once for aprofessional detective and give him free rein. I knew he would begin onthe hat-pin, and would end--, well,--never mind that.
As a beginning, I made a list of matters to be investigated, settingthem down, in my methodical way, in the order of their discovery.
I had the key, the theatre stubs, the time-table, the torn telegram andthe handkerchief. Surely, a lengthy list. Of course there had also beena hair-pin,--an ordinary wire hair-pin,--but this, I omitted for reasonsof my own.
Aside from the fact that it headed the list, the key seemed to me themost important. It was doubtless the key to some one of Mr. Pembroke'sdeposit boxes. And if so, it should prove useful. The box it fittedmight contain papers or documents valuable as evidence. Considered aspart of Mr. Pembroke's estate, it should of course be given into Leroy'scharge; but considered as evidence in the Pembroke case, I surely had aright to use it.
Deciding upon my course of action then, I went straight to the Coroner'sand asked him for the key. He hesitated at first, but when I gave himthe result of my own cogitation on the subject, he said: "You may aswell take it, for at least you can find where it belongs. They won't letyou open the box, as you are not the executor of the estate, so it cando no harm."
I didn't dispute the point, but I felt a secret conviction that if Ifound the box to which the key belonged, I should somehow get sight ofits contents.
As Mr. Ross seemed inclined to talk about the Pembroke matter I went onto discuss the other clues. He announced his intention of calling in aprofessional detective, but was waiting for Leroy's return before doingso.
"We've clues enough for a whole gang of burglars," he remarked. "Isupposed of course most of these things,"--he was looking over mylist,--"would be recognized by some of the family. But since they werenot, they would seem to mean something definite in the way of evidence.However, I shall give them all to a detective as soon as possible, andif he can deduce any intruder from outside, and can explain how heeffected an entrance, he will be cleverer than any detective in astory-book."
"You have all the clues, I suppose," I said, feeling a distinct sense ofdismay at the thought of his detective.
"Yes," he said, opening a drawer of his desk.
With no definite purpose, I examined them, and noted on my list suchdetails as the date and seat numbers on the ticket stubs, the date andwording of the telegram, the initials on the handkerchief and suchmatters.
"What is this?" I asked, as I noticed an opened envelope addressed toRobert Pembroke.
"That is our newest exhibit," said the Coroner; "it was brought mewithin the last hour by Inspector Crawford, and it seems to me toeliminate the torn telegram from our case entirely. Read it."
I took the letter from the envelope, and glancing first at the signaturesaw the name Jonathan Scudder. The letter went on to state that thewriter would not be able to call on Mr. Pembroke on Wednesday evening,as he had telegraphed that he would.
"This, then is the mysterious J. S.," I said, "and, as you say it makesit unnecessary for us to trade that clue further."
"Yes," returned Mr. Ross, "but of course it was not a real clue any way,for neither J. S. nor anyone else could enter a chained door."
That everlasting chain! Why do people have chains on their front doors,any way? There was one on our own door, but we never used it, and Iwished to Heaven that Janet Pembroke had never used hers! They weresupposed to be a safeguard, but in this case this infernal chain wascondemning evidence against the woman I loved! That is, it condemned herin the eyes of others, but not in my eyes; nothing could ever do that!
But there was no use of declaring my convictions to the Coroner. He wasjust as positive that Janet Pembroke was guilty as I was that she wasinnocent.
However, all question of J. S. was settled. He was Jonathan Scudder, andwhether or not he was the man whom Mr. Pembroke had sometimes calledJohn Strong, made no difference to our case. I read the letter again,but it was of little interest and taking the key, which Mr. Ross gaveme, I went away.
Somehow, I was not so buoyantly hopeful after my interview with theCoroner as I had been before. The letter from Mr. Scudder did not affectme, it was of no consequence at all, but the Coroner's unshakableconviction of Janet's wrong-doing had made me realize that my own beliefwas founded not on facts but on my own glorious fancies.
Very well, then, I concluded, I will go to work and get facts that willcoincide with my beliefs. Action was better than theorizing, any way,and I went at once to the bank which I had been told carried Mr.Pembroke's account.
But there I was informed that the key I showed was not the property ofthat bank or any of its departments. Nor could they tell me to what bankor company it did belong. I suspected they might have given me at leasta hint of where to look, but as I was unknown to them personally, andthey had no knowledge of how I had come by the key, they naturally wereconservative on the subject.
I could have explained the situation to them, but I knew it would beuseless, as, if I were trying to use the key with fraudulent intent itwas just the sort of a story I should have invented. So I turned away, alittle despondent, but determined to keep on with my search, if I had tovisit every bank in the city.
It was a weary search. After two or three unsuccessful attempts, I tooka taxicab and methodically made the rounds of the prominent banks.
But as I met with no success, I concluded finally that such attempt wasuseless. I suspected that perhaps the bank officials suspected me, andwould not give me information. This roused my ire, and as a next step Iwent to the office of the firm who made the key. As the makers' name wasstamped on it I had no difficulty in finding them. Of course they werequite able to tell me for what institution that key had been made, butthey were at first unwilling to do so. It was only after a fullstatement of my case and proofs of my own identity that I gained fromthem the information that the key had been made for The Sterling SafeDeposit Co.