CHAPTER III.
ALL A MYSTERY.
"I beg your pardon, but does Mr. Vane live here?"
A man of small stature, smooth face and the keenest eyes Bordine had everseen in human head, stood before him. He lifted a broad-brimmed straw hatand fanned himself as though heated, although the air was quite cool forthe season.
"Do you mean Ransom Vane?"
"Yes, sir."
"He lives here."
"Very good--"
"But, sir," interrupted Bordine, "he is in no mood to receive visitorsnow."
"Indeed?"
"A terrible thing has happened."
Then glancing down, the small stranger caught sight of the blood. He didnot shrink, but an interested look at once came to his face.
"A tragedy?" he questioned, quickly.
"Yes. Victoria Vane is dead."
"How?"
"It seems to be either murder or suicide."
"This is bad. When did it happen?"
"Some time to-day."
"No witnesses to the deed?"
"None who have yet appeared."
Just then Ransom Vane appeared on the porch. The moment his gaze restedon the face of the new-comer he uttered a glad cry and extended his hand.
"Of all men in the world you are the one I most desire to see," exclaimedVane. Then he turned to Bordine. "Mr. Bordine, this is my old friend fromNewport, Silas Keene. You may have heard me mention his name."
"Yes. I have read of him as well. I am happy to clasp the hand of themost noted detective of Gotham."
This was no flattery.
Silas Keene was not a secondary man. He was first in everythingpertaining to matters criminal. He had traced down more crime perhapsthan any man of his age in Gotham, and he was verging on forty.
It was opportune indeed, the great detective coming at this time.
Ransom Vane had known the man for years, and the twain had been bosomfriends.
"I cannot remain with you, Ransom," said Bordine, "but I will come againsoon. If you require any help from me, you know, you have only to call onme."
"Certainly."
A minute later the man in hunter's costume had disappeared.
Sile Keene went in to look at the dead girl, then he examined the groundclosely, the porch, the letters, and finally investigated the extent andshape of the death-wound.
It proved to be narrow but deep, evidently made with a dirk or blade withtwo edges.
Then, after the house was searched and it was discovered that a bureauhad been rifled of several hundred dollars left there by Ransom, theyoung cottager placed the torn, blood-stained letter he had found inBordines' possession, in the hand of the detective.
"Where did you get this?" questioned Keene, after he had read the shortepistle.
"It was found near my poor sister, on the porch."
"You found it?"
"No, Bordine."
"By the way, who made the discovery of the tragedy first?"
"Mr. Bordine. He was standing over Victoria, with this letter in hishand, when I arrived."
"He is your friend?"
"Well, yes, I have supposed him to be."
"What is his full name?"
"August Bordine."
The detective glanced at the letter, then gave vent to a low whistle.This was natural with him at times, especially when he had made agratifying discovery.
"Now you must be frank with me," proceeded Keene. "Tell me truly, whatrelation this man, Bordine, bore to your sister."
"They were friends."
"Nothing more?"
Detective Keene eyed his companion sharply.
"Well, I suppose it possible that they might have enjoyed a nearerrelation had Victoria lived," said Ransom Vane in an unsteady voice.
"You think they were lovers?"
"Yes."
"How did he seem to take this tragedy?"
"I cannot tell, I don't think he was unduly agitated, however."
"Hum."
Then the detective fell to thinking deeply. He folded the note carefully,and placed it in an inner pocket.
"I will retain that," he said. "Of course the coroner must be notified.This is indeed a sad case. I had no thought of such a thing when I leftthe depot to visit you. This will astound the neighborhood. I came fromNew York intending to visit Chicago, where it is thought a forger hasfound a hiding place. I was not employed to run him down, but thought Iwould place the case in the hands of the Pinkertons."
"You will not desert me in the hour of my trouble, Silas?"
"No, I will not."
"You will remain to hunt down the murderer of poor Vic?"
Emotion choked the young man's utterance then, and he turned his haggardface away to hide his feelings.
"I hoped for a brief rest, and an enjoyable visit, old friend," returnedKeene.
"It seems that it is not to be. I seem destined to be forever on thetrail of some criminal. Poor little Victoria. When I saw her last she wasa pretty, playful child. I cannot conceive of a heart wicked enough totake such an innocent life."
"It was done for plunder?"
"Do you think so?"
"I had two hundred dollars in the bureau. That was taken."
"Yes."
"That convinces me that my poor sister was murdered so that the villaincould rob the house."
"I am not sure of that."
"No?"
"This robbery may be only a blind."
"Do you think so?"
"I will not say that. It will never do to jump at conclusions. Mysuspicions, if I have any, turn toward that man who just left us."
"August Bordine?"
"Yes. He evidently wrote that letter. In a fit of jealousy, he may havestruck the blow."
Ransom Vane was silent.
He had thought of this himself, and yet it did not seem possible that hisfriend could be such a demon. The detective must be left to take his owncourse, however.
"They seemed always on friendly terms," said Ransom, at length, "but ofcourse there may have been secrets kept from me."
"True, I will investigate thoroughly." The detective hastened away, and alittle later the coroner appeared. A jury was summoned and an examinationhad. This was on the morning following the tragedy.
August Bordine had been summoned by telegraph, and was the most importantwitness in the case.
When he told the story of the tramp the silence was oppressive.
"Did you know the fellow?"
"I did not; I believe, however, that Miss Vane stated that he had calledhimself Perry Jounce."
At the mention of this name young Vane started.
He plucked at his blonde mustache and seemed exceedingly nervous.
Nothing of grave importance was elicited from Bordine, only some presentthought he had neglected his duty in leaving the girl so soon after thedeparture of the tramp.
Ransom Vane was the next witness.
He testified to finding his sister dead, with August Bordine standingover her.
"He was in hunting costume?"
"Yes."
"How armed?"
"I saw no arms. He had placed his gun against the end of the porch Ithink."
"You saw no knife?"
"None whatever."
Evidently the coroner had sighted the suspicious circumstances connectingAugust Bordine with the case.
"Did you have a knife that day?" said the coroner, turning abruptly toyoung Bordine.
"Yes, sir, I had a small hunting knife, but not when I found Miss Vane."
"What do you mean?"
"I lost the knife in the woods."
"Yes."
A short silence fell.
Many suspicious glances were cast at the young engineer. He felt that heoccupied a delicate position, but remained calm under it.
The jury decided, after due deliberation, that Victoria Vane came to herdeath at the hands of an unknown party, and so
the inquest ended. Murderwas fully established, but the murderer was not found.
In the mean time Detective Keene had made some discoveries that he keptto himself for the time.
No one in or about Ridgewood knew Sile Keene, and so he did not at theoutset deem it necessary to assume a disguise.
The bereaved brother did not live at the cottage after the murder, butfound a room at the village tavern. Oft times, however, he wandered tothe lonely cottage, and in silence brooded over the scene of the murder.He stood thus one day when the sound of a step startled him. He raisedhis eyes to peer into the face of a ragged tramp.