XVII.
BUTTERWORTH VERSUS GRYCE.
The result of this attention can be best learned from the conversation Iheld with Mr. Gryce the next morning.
He came earlier than usual, but he found me up and stirring.
"Well," he cried, accosting me with a smile as I entered the parlorwhere he was seated, "it is all right this time, is it not? No troublein identifying the gentleman who entered your neighbor's house lastnight at a quarter to twelve?"
Resolved to probe this man's mind to the bottom, I put on my sternestair.
"I had not expected any one to enter there so late last night," said I."Mr. Van Burnam declared so positively at the inquest that he was theperson we have been endeavoring to identify, that I did not suppose youwould consider it necessary to bring him to the house for me to see."
"And so you were not in the window?"
"I did not say that; I am always where I have promised to be, Mr.Gryce."
"Well, then?" he inquired sharply.
I was purposely slow in answering him--I had all the longer time tosearch his face. But its calmness was impenetrable, and finally Ideclared:
"The man you brought with you last night--you were the person whoaccompanied him, were you not--was _not_ the man I saw alight there fournights ago."
He may have expected it; it may have been the very assertion he desiredfrom me, but his manner showed displeasure, and the quick "How?" heuttered was sharp and peremptory.
"I do not ask who it was," I went on, with a quiet wave of my hand thatimmediately restored him to himself, "for I know you will not tell me.But what I do hope to know is the name of the man who entered that samehouse at just ten minutes after nine. He was one of the funeral guests,and he arrived in a carriage that was immediately preceded by a coachfrom which four persons alighted, two ladies and two gentlemen."
"I do not know the gentleman, ma'am," was the detective's half-surprisedand half-amused retort. "I did not keep track of every guest thatattended the funeral."
"Then you didn't do your work as well as I did mine," was my rather dryreply. "For I noted every one who went in; and that gentleman, whoeverhe was, was more like the person I have been trying to identify than anyone I have seen enter there during my four midnight vigils."
Mr. Gryce smiled, uttered a short "_Indeed!_" and looked more than everlike a sphinx. I began quietly to hate him, under my calm exterior.
"Was Howard at his wife's funeral?" I asked.
"He was, ma'am."
"And did he come in a carriage?"
"He did, ma'am."
"Alone?"
"He thought he was alone; yes, ma'am."
"Then may it not have been he?"
"I can't say, ma'am."
Mr. Gryce was so obviously out of his element under thiscross-examination that I could not suppress a smile even while Iexperienced a very lively indignation at his reticence. He may have seenme smile and he may not, for his eyes, as I have intimated, were alwaysbusy with some object entirely removed from the person he addressed; butat all events he rose, leaving me no alternative but to do the same.
"And so you didn't recognize the gentleman I brought to the neighboringhouse just before twelve o'clock," he quietly remarked, with a calmignoring of my last question which was a trifle exasperating.
"No."
"Then, ma'am," he declared, with a quick change of manner, meant, Ishould judge, to put me in my proper place, "I do not think we candepend upon the accuracy of your memory;" and he made a motion as if toleave.
As I did not know whether his apparent disappointment was real or not, Ilet him move to the door without a reply. But once there I stopped him.
"Mr. Gryce," said I, "I don't know what you think about this matter, norwhether you even wish my opinion upon it. But I am going to express it,for all that. _I_ do not believe that Howard killed his wife with ahat-pin."
"No?" retorted the old gentleman, peering into his hat, with an ironicalsmile which that inoffensive article of attire had certainly notmerited. "And why, Miss Butterworth, why? You must have substantialreasons for any opinion you would form."
"I have an intuition," I responded, "backed by certain reasons. Theintuition won't impress you very deeply, but the reasons may not bewithout some weight, and I am going to confide them to you."
"Do," he entreated in a jocose manner which struck me as inappropriate,but which I was willing to overlook on account of his age and veryfatherly manner.
"Well, then," said I, "this is one. If the crime was a premeditated one,if he hated his wife and felt it for his interest to have her out of theway, a man of Mr. Van Burnam's good sense would have chosen any otherspot than his father's house to kill her in, knowing that her identitycould not be hidden if once she was associated with the Van Burnam name.If, on the contrary, he took her there in good faith, and her death wasthe unexpected result of a quarrel between them, then the means employedwould have been simpler. An angry man does not stop to perform adelicate surgical operation when moved to the point of murder, but useshis hands or his fists, just as Mr. Van Burnam himself suggested."
"Humph!" grunted the detective, staring very hard indeed into his hat.
"You must not think me this young man's friend," I went on, with a wellmeant desire to impress him with the impartiality of my attitude. "Inever have spoken to him nor he to me, but I am the friend of justice,and I must declare that there was a note of surprise in the emotion heshowed at sight of his wife's hat, that was far too natural to beassumed."
The detective failed to be impressed. I might have expected this,knowing his sex and the reliance such a man is apt to place upon his ownpowers.
"Acting, ma'am, acting!" was his laconic comment. "A very uncommoncharacter, that of Mr. Howard Van Burnam. I do not think you do it fulljustice."
"Perhaps not, but see that you don't slight mine. I do not expect you toheed these suggestions any more than you did those I offered you inconnection with Mrs. Boppert, the scrub-woman; but my conscience iseased by my communication, and that is much to a solitary woman likemyself who is obliged to spend many a long hour alone with no othercompanion."
"Something has been accomplished, then, by this delay," he observed.Then, as if ashamed of this momentary display of irritation, he added inthe genial tones more natural to him: "I don't blame you for your goodopinion of this interesting, but by no means reliable, young man, MissButterworth. A woman's kind heart stands in the way of her properjudgment of criminals."
"You will not find its instincts fail even if you do its judgment."
His bow was as full of politeness as it was lacking in conviction.
"I hope you won't let your instincts lead you into any unnecessarydetective work," he quietly suggested.
"That I cannot promise. If you arrest Howard Van Burnam for murder, Imay be tempted to meddle with matters which don't concern me."
An amused smile broke through his simulated seriousness.
"Pray accept my congratulations, then, in advance, ma'am. My health hasbeen such that I have long anticipated giving up my profession; but if Iam to have such assistants as you in my work, I shall be inclined toremain in it some time longer."
"When a man as busy as you stops to indulge in sarcasm, he is in more orless good spirits. Such a condition, I am told, only prevails withdetectives when they have come to a positive conclusion concerning thecase they are engaged upon."
"I see you already understand the members of your future profession."
"As much as is necessary at this juncture," I retorted. Then seeing himabout to repeat his bow, I added sharply: "You need not trouble yourselfto show me too much politeness. If I meddle in this matter at all itwill not be as your coadjutor, but as your rival."
"My rival?"
"Yes, your rival; and rivals are never good friends until one of them ishopelessly defeated."
"Miss Butterworth, I see myself already at your feet."
And with this sally and a short chuckle which di
d more than anything hehad said towards settling me in my half-formed determination to do as Ihad threatened, he opened the door and quietly disappeared.