XXV.
"THE RINGS! WHERE ARE THE RINGS?"
Had Mr. Gryce been present, I would have instantly triumphed over mydisappointment, bottled up my chagrin, and been the inscrutable AmeliaButterworth before he could say, "Something has gone wrong with thiswoman!" But Mr. Gryce was not present, and though I did not betray thehalf I felt. I yet showed enough emotion for Miss Althorpe to remark:
"You seemed surprised by what I have told you. Has any one said thatthese two women were alike?"
Having to speak, I became myself again in a trice, and noddedvigorously.
"Some one was so foolish," I remarked.
Miss Althorpe looked thoughtful. While she was interested she was not sointerested as to take the subject in fully. Her own concerns made herabstracted, and I was very glad of it.
"Louise Van Burnam had a sharp chin and a very cold blue eye. Yet herface was a fascinating one to some."
"Well, it was a dreadful tragedy!" I observed, and tried to turn thesubject aside, which fortunately I was able to do after a short effort.
Then I picked the basket up, and perceiving the sick woman's lipsfaintly moving, I went over to her and found her murmuring to herself.
As Miss Althorpe had risen when I did, I did not dare to listen to thesemurmurs, but when my charming hostess had bidden me good-night, withmany injunctions not to tire myself, and to be sure and remember that adecanter and a plate of biscuits stood on a table outside, I hastenedback to the bedside, and leaning over my patient, endeavored to catchthe words as they fell from her lips.
As they were simple and but the echo of those running at that verymoment through my own brain, I had no difficulty in distinguishing them.
"Van Burnam!" she was saying, "Van Burnam!" varied by a short "Howard!"and once by a doubtful "Franklin!"
"Ah," thought I, with a sudden reaction, "she is the woman I seek, ifshe is not Louise Van Burnam." And unheeding the start she gave, Ipulled off the blanket I had spread over her, and willy-nilly drew offher left shoe and stocking.
Her bare ankle showed no scar, and covering it quickly up I took up hershoe. Immediately the trepidation she had shown at the approach of astranger's hand towards that article of clothing was explained. In thelining around the top were sewn bills of no ordinary amount, and as theother shoe was probably used as a like depository, she naturally feltconcern at any approach which might lead to a discovery of her littlefortune.
Amazed at a mystery possessing so many points of interest, I tucked theshoe in under the bedclothes and sat down to review the situation.
The mistake I had made was in concluding that because the fugitive whosetraces I had followed had worn the clothes of Louise Van Burnam, shemust necessarily be that unfortunate lady. Now I saw that the murderedwoman was Howard's wife after all, and this patient of mine her probablerival.
But this necessitated an entire change in my whole line of reasoning. Ifthe rival and not the wife lay before me, then which of the twoaccompanied him to the scene of tragedy? He had said it was his wife; Ihad proven to myself that it was the rival; was he right, or was Iright, or were neither of us right?
Not being able to decide, I fixed my mind upon another query. When didthe two women exchange clothes, or rather, when did this woman procurethe silk habiliments and elaborate adornments of her more opulent rival?Was it before either of them entered Mr. Van Burnam's house? Or was itafter their encounter there?
Running over in my mind certain little facts of which I had hithertoattempted no explanation, I grouped them together and sought amongstthem for inspiration.
These are the facts:
1. One of the garments found on the murdered woman had been torn downthe back. As it was a new one, it had evidently been subjected to somequick strain, not explainable by any appearance of struggle.
2. The shoes and stockings found on the victim were the only articlesshe wore which could not be traced back to Altman's. In the re-dressingof the so-called Mrs. James Pope, these articles had not been changed.Could not that fact be explained by the presence of a considerable sumof money in her shoes?
3. The going out bareheaded of a fugitive, anxious to avoid observation,leaving hat and gloves behind her in a dining-room closet.
I had endeavored to explain this last anomalous action by her fear ofbeing traced by so conspicuous an article as this hat; but it was not asatisfactory explanation to me then and much less so now.
4. And last, and most vital of all, the words which I had heard fallfrom this half-conscious girl: "_O how can I touch her! She is dead, andI have never touched a dead body!_"
Could inspiration fail me before such a list? Was it not evident thatthe change had been made after death, and by this seemingly sensitivegirl's own hands?
It was a horrible thought and led to others more horrible. For the verycommission of such a revolting act argued a desire for concealment onlyto be explained by great guilt. She had been the offender and the wifethe victim; and Howard--Well, his actions continued to be a mystery, butI would not admit his guilt even now. On the contrary, I saw hisinnocence in a still stronger light. For if he had openly or evencovertly connived at his wife's death, would he have so immediatelyforsaken the accomplice of his guilt, to say nothing of leaving to herthe dreadful task of concealing the crime? No, I would rather think thatthe tragedy took place after his departure, and that his action indenying his wife's identity, as long as it was possible to do so, was tobe explained by the fact of his ignorance in regard to his wife'spresence in the house where he had supposed himself to have simply lefther rival. As the exchange made in the clothing worn by the two womencould only have taken place later, and as he naturally judged thevictim by her clothing, perhaps he was really deceived himself as to heridentity. It was certainly not an improbable supposition, and accountedfor much that was otherwise inexplicable in Mr. Van Burnam's conduct.
But the rings? Why could I not find the rings? If my present reasoningwere correct, this woman should have those evidences of guilt about her.But had I not searched for them in every available place withoutsuccess? Annoyed at my failure to fix this one irrefutable proof ofguilt upon her, I took up the knitting-work I saw in Miss Oliver'sbasket, and began to ply the needles by way of relief to my thoughts.But I had no sooner got well under way than some movement on the part ofmy patient drew my attention again to the bed, and I was startled bybeholding her sitting up again, but this time with a look of fear ratherthan of suffering on her features.
"Don't!" she gasped, pointing with an unsteady hand at the work in myhand. "The click, click of the needles is more than I can stand. Putthem down, pray; put them down!"
Her agitation was so great and her nervousness so apparent that Icomplied at once. However much I might be affected by her guilt, I wasnot willing to do the slightest thing to worry her nerves even at theexpense of my own. As the needles fell from my hand, she sank back and aquick, short sigh escaped her lips. Then she was again quiet, and Iallowed my thoughts to return to the old theme. The rings! the rings!Where were the rings, and was it impossible for me to find them?