VI. INTEGRITY
Mr. Gryce's fears were only too well founded. Though Mr. McElroy waskind enough to point out the exact spot where he saw Miss Watkins stoop,no trace of blood was found upon the rug which had lain there, nor hadanything of the kind been washed up by the very careful man who scrubbedthe lobby floor in the early morning. This was disappointing, as itspresence would have settled the whole question. When, these efforts allexhausted, the two detectives faced each other again in the smallroom given up to their use, Mr. Gryce showed his discouragement. To becertain of a fact you cannot prove has not the same alluring qualityfor the old that it has for the young. Sweetwater watched him in someconcern, then with the persistence which was one of his strong points,ventured finally to remark:
"I have but one idea left on the subject."
"And what is that?" Old as he was, Mr. Gryce was alert in a moment.
"The girl wore a red cloak. If I mistake not, the lining was also red. Aspot on it might not show to the casual observer. Yet it would mean muchto us."
"Sweetwater!"
A faint blush rose to the old man's cheek.
"Shall I request the privilege of looking that garment over?"
"Yes."
The young fellow ducked and left the room. When he returned, it was witha downcast air.
"Nothing doing," said he.
And then there was silence.
"We only need to find out now that this cutter was not even MissChalloner's property," remarked Mr. Gryce, at last, with a gesturetowards the object named, lying openly on the table before him.
"That should be easy. Shall I take it to their rooms and show it to hermaid?"
"If you can do so without disturbing the old gentleman."
But here they were themselves disturbed. A knock at the door wasfollowed by the immediate entrance of the very person just mentioned.Mr. Challoner had come in search of the inspector, and showed somesurprise to find his place occupied by an unknown old man.
But Mr. Gryce, who discerned tidings in the bereaved father's face, wasall alacrity in an instant. Greeting his visitor with a smile which fewcould see without trusting the man, he explained the inspector's absenceand introduced himself in his own capacity.
Mr. Challoner had heard of him. Nevertheless, he did not seem inclinedto speak.
Mr. Gryce motioned Sweetwater from the room. With a woeful look theyoung detective withdrew, his last glance cast at the cutter still lyingin full view on the table.
Mr. Gryce, not unmindful himself of this object, took it up, then laidit down again, with an air of seeming abstraction.
The father's attention was caught.
"What is that?" he cried, advancing a step and bestowing more than anordinary glance at the object thus brought casually, as it were, to hisnotice. "I surely recognise this cutter. Does it belong here or--"
Mr. Gryce, observing the other's emotion, motioned him to a chair.As his visitor sank into it, he remarked, with all the considerationexacted by the situation:
"It is unknown property, Mr. Challoner. But we have some reason to thinkit belonged to your daughter. Are we correct in this surmise?"
"I have seen it, or one like it, often in her hand." Here his eyessuddenly dilated and the hand stretched forth to grasp it quickly drewback. "Where--where was it found?" he hoarsely demanded. "O God! am I tobe crushed to the very earth by sorrow!"
Mr. Gryce hastened to give him such relief as was consistent with thetruth.
"It was picked up--last night--from the lobby floor. There is seeminglynothing to connect it with her death. Yet--"
The pause was eloquent. Mr. Challoner gave the detective an agonisedlook and turned white to the lips. Then gradually, as the silencecontinued, his head fell forward, and he muttered almost unintelligibly:
"I honestly believe her the victim of some heartless stranger. I donow; but--but I cannot mislead the police. At any cost I must retract astatement I made under false impressions and with no desire to deceive.I said that I knew all of the gentlemen who admired her and aspired toher hand, and that they were all reputable men and above committing acrime of this or any other kind. But it seems that I did not know hersecret heart as thoroughly as I had supposed. Among her effects Ihave just come upon a batch of letters--love letters I am forced toacknowledge--signed by initials totally strange to me. The letters aremanly in tone--most of them--but one--"
"What about the one?"
"Shows that the writer was displeased. It may mean nothing, but I couldnot let the matter go without setting myself right with the authorities.If it might be allowed to rest here--if those letters can remain sacred,it would save me the additional pang of seeing her inmost concerns--thesecret and holiest recesses of a woman's heart, laid open to the public.For, from the tenor of most of these letters, she--she was not averse tothe writer."
Mr. Gryce moved a little restlessly in his chair and stared hard at thecutter so conveniently placed under his eye. Then his manner softenedand he remarked:
"We will do what we can. But you must understand that the matter is nota simple one. That, in fact, it contains mysteries which demand policeinvestigation. We do not dare to trifle with any of the facts. Theinspector, and, if not he, the coroner, will have to be told about theseletters and will probably ask to see them."
"They are the letters of a gentleman."
"With the one exception."
"Yes, that is understood." Then in a sudden heat and with an almostsublime trust in his daughter notwithstanding the duplicity he had justdiscovered:
"Nothing--not the story told by these letters, or the sight of thatsturdy paper-cutter with its long and very slender blade, will make mebelieve that she willingly took her own life. You do not know, cannotknow, the rare delicacy of her nature. She was a lady through andthrough. If she had meditated death--if the breach suggested by the oneletter I have mentioned, should have so preyed upon her spirits as tolead her to break her old father's heart and outrage the feelings of allwho knew her, she could not, being the woman she was, choose a publicplace for such an act--an hotel writing-room--in face of a lobby fullof hurrying men. It was out of nature. Every one who knows her will tellyou so. The deed was an accident--incredible--but still an accident."
Mr. Gryce had respect for this outburst. Making no attempt to answer it,he suggested, with some hesitation, that Miss Challoner had been seenwriting a letter previous to taking those fatal steps from the deskwhich ended so tragically. Was this letter to one of her lady friends,as reported, and was it as far from suggesting the awful tragedy whichfollowed, as he had been told?
"It was a cheerful letter. Such a one as she often wrote to her littleprotegees here and there. I judge that this was written to some girllike that, for the person addressed was not known to her maid, anymore than she was to me. It expressed an affectionate interest, and itbreathed encouragement--encouragement! and she meditating her own deathat the moment! Impossible! That letter should exonerate her if nothingelse does."
Mr. Gryce recalled the incongruities, the inconsistencies and even thesurprising contradictions which had often marked the conduct of men andwomen, in his lengthy experience with the strange, the sudden, andthe tragic things of life, and slightly shook his head. He pitied Mr.Challoner, and admired even more his courage in face of the appallinggrief which had overwhelmed him, but he dared not encourage a falsehope. The girl had killed herself and with this weapon. They might notbe able to prove it absolutely, but it was nevertheless true, and thisbroken old man would some day be obliged to acknowledge it. But thedetective said nothing of this, and was very patient with the furtherarguments the other advanced to prove his point and the lofty characterof the girl to whom, misled by appearance, the police seemed inclined toattribute the awful sin of self-destruction.
But when, this topic exhausted, Mr. Challoner rose to leave the room,Mr. Gryce showed where his own thoughts still centred, by asking himthe date of the correspondence discovered between his daughter and herunknown admirer.<
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"Some of the letters were dated last summer, some this fall. The oneyou are most anxious to hear about only a month back," he added, withunconquerable devotion to what he considered his duty.
Mr. Gryce would like to have carried his inquiries further, butdesisted. His heart was full of compassion for this childless old man,doomed to have his choicest memories disturbed by cruel doubts whichpossibly would never be removed to his own complete satisfaction.
But when he was gone, and Sweetwater had returned, Mr. Gryce made it hisfirst duty to communicate to his superiors the hitherto unsuspected factof a secret romance in Miss Challoner's seemingly calm and well-guardedlife. She had loved and been loved by one of whom her family knewnothing. And the two had quarrelled, as certain letters lately foundcould be made to show.