XXXII.
ICONOCLASM.
The surprise which this very simple question occasioned, showed itselfdifferently in the two men who heard it. The Inspector, who had neverseen me before, simply stared, while Mr. Gryce, with that admirablecommand over himself which has helped to make him the most successfulman on the force, retained his impassibility, though I noticed a smallcorner drop from my filigree basket as if crushed off by an inadvertentpressure of his hand.
"I judged," was his calm reply, as he laid down the injured toy with anapologetic grunt, "that the clearing of Howard from suspicion meant theestablishment of another man's guilt; and so far as we can see there hasbeen no other party in the case besides these two brothers."
"No? Then I fear a great surprise awaits you, Mr. Gryce. This crime,which you have fixed with such care and seeming probability uponFranklin Van Burnam, was not, in my judgment, perpetrated either by himor any other man. It was the act of a woman."
"A WOMAN?"
Both men spoke: the Inspector, as if he thought me demented; Mr. Gryce,as if he would like to have considered me a fool but dared not.
"Yes, a _woman_," I repeated, dropping a quiet curtsey. It was a properexpression of respect when I was young, and I see no reason why itshould not be a proper expression of respect now, except that we havelost our manners in gaining our independence, something which is to beregretted perhaps. "A woman whom I know; a woman whom I can lay my handson at a half-hour's notice; a young woman, sirs; a pretty woman, theowner of one of the two hats found in the Van Burnam parlors."
Had I exploded a bomb-shell the Inspector could not have looked moreastounded. The detective, who was a man of greater self-command, did notbetray his feelings so plainly, though he was not entirely without them,for, as I made this statement, he turned and looked at me; _Mr. Gryce_looked at me.
"Both of those hats belonged to Mrs. Van Burnam," he protested; "the oneshe wore from Haddam; the other was in the order from Altman's."
"She never ordered anything from Altman's," was my uncompromising reply."The woman whom I saw enter next door, and who was the same who left theHotel D---- with the man in the linen duster, was not Louise Van Burnam.She was that lady's rival, and let me say it, for I dare to think it,not only her rival but the prospective taker of her life. O you need notshake your heads at each other so significantly, gentlemen. I have beencollecting evidence as well as yourselves, and what I have learned isvery much to the point; very much, indeed."
"The deuce you have!" muttered the Inspector, turning away from me; butMr. Gryce continued to eye me like a man fascinated.
"Upon what," said he, "do you base these extraordinary assertions? Ishould like to hear what that evidence is."
"But first," said I, "I must take a few exceptions to certain points youconsider yourself to have made against Franklin Van Burnam. You believehim to have committed this crime because you found in a secret drawer ofhis desk a letter known to have been in Mrs. Van Burnam's hands the dayshe was murdered, and which you, naturally enough, I acknowledge,conceive he could only have regained by murdering her. But have you notthought of another way in which he could have obtained it, a perfectlyharmless way, involving no one either in deceit or crime? May it nothave been in the little hand-bag returned by Mrs. Parker on the morningof the discovery, and may not its crumpled condition be accounted for bythe haste with which Franklin might have thrust it into his secretdrawer at the untoward entrance of some one into his office?"
"I acknowledge that I have not thought of such a possibility," growledthe detective, below his breath, but I saw that his self-satisfactionhad been shaken.
"As for any proof of complicity being given by the presence of the ringson the hook attached to his desk, I grieve for your sake to be obligedto dispel that illusion also. Those rings, Mr. Gryce and Mr. Inspector,were not discovered there by the girl in gray, but taken there; and hungthere at the very moment your spy saw her hand fumbling with thepapers."
"Taken there, and hung there by your maid! By the girl Lena, who has soevidently been working in _your_ interests! What sort of a confessionare you making, Miss Butterworth?"
"Ah, Mr. Gryce," I gently remonstrated, for I actually pitied the oldman in his hour of humiliation, "other girls wear gray besides Lena. Itwas the woman of the Hotel D---- who played this trick in Mr. VanBurnam's office. Lena was not out of my house that day."
I had never thought Mr. Gryce feeble, though I knew he was over seventyif not very near the octogenarian age. But he drew up a chair at thisand hastily sat down.
"Tell me about this other girl," said he.
But before I repeat what I said to him, I must explain by what reasoningI had arrived at the conclusion I have just mentioned. That Ruth Oliverwas the visitor in Mr. Van Burnam's office there was but little reasonto doubt; that her errand was one in connection with the rings wasequally plain. What else would have driven her from her bed when she washardly able to stand, and sent her in a state of fever, if not delirium,down town to this office?
She feared having these rings found in her possession, and she alsocherished a desire to throw whatever suspicion was attached to them uponthe man who was already compromised. She may have thought it wasHoward's desk she approached, and she may have known it to beFranklin's. On that point I was in doubt, but the rest was clear to mefrom the moment Mr. Gryce mentioned the girl in gray; and even the spotwhere she had kept them in the interim since the murder was no longer anunsolved mystery to me. Her emotion when I touched her knitting-workand the shreds of unravelled wool I had found lying about after herdeparture, had set my wits working, and I comprehended now _that theyhad been wound up in the ball of yarn I had so carelessly handled_.
But what had I to say to Mr. Gryce in answer to his question. Much; andseeing that further delay was injudicious, I began my story then andthere. Prefacing my tale with the suspicions I had always had of Mrs.Boppert, I told them of my interview with that woman and of the valuableclue she had given me by confessing that she had let Mrs. Van Burnaminto the house prior to the visit of the couple who entered there atmidnight. Knowing what an effect this must produce upon Mr. Gryce,utterly unprepared for it as he was, I looked for some burst of anger onhis part, or at least some expression of self-reproach. But he onlybroke a second piece off my little filigree basket, and, totallyunconscious of the demolition he was causing, cried out with trueprofessional delight:
"Well! well! I've always said this was a remarkable case, a veryremarkable case; but if we don't look out it will go ahead of that oneat Sibley. _Two_ women in the affair, and one of them in the housebefore the arrival of the so-called victim and her murderer! What do youthink of that, Inspector? Rather late for us to find out so important adetail, eh?"
"Rather," was the dry reply. At which Mr. Gryce's face grew long and heexclaimed, half shamefacedly, half jocularly:
"Outwitted by a woman! Well, it's a new experience for me, Inspector,and you must not be surprised if it takes me a minute or so to getaccustomed to it. A scrub-woman too! It cuts, Inspector, it cuts."
But as I went on, and he learned how I had obtained definite proof ofthe clock having been not only wound by the lady thus admitted to thehouse, but set also and that correctly, his face grew even longer, andhe gazed quite dolefully at the small figure in the carpet to which hehad transferred his attention.
"So! so!" came in almost indistinguishable murmur from his lips. "All mypretty theory in regard to its being set by the criminal for the purposeof confirming his attempt at a false alibi was but a figment of myimagination, eh? Sad! sad! But it was neat enough to have been true, wasit not, Inspector?"
"Quite," that gentleman good-humoredly admitted, yet with a shade ofirony in his tone that made me suspect that, for all his confidence inand evident admiration for this brilliant old detective, he felt acertain amount of pleasure at seeing him for once at fault. Perhaps itgave him more confidence in his own judgment, seeing that their ideas onthis case had been opposed from the start.
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"Well! well! I'm getting old; that's what they'll say at Headquartersto-morrow. But go on, Miss Butterworth; let us hear what followed; for Iam sure your investigations did not stop there."
I complied with his request with as much modesty as possible. But it washard to suppress all triumph in face of the unrestrained enthusiasm withwhich he received my communication. When I told him of the doubts I hadformed in regard to the disposal of the packages brought from the HotelD----, and how to settle those doubts I had taken that midnight walkdown Twenty-seventh Street, he looked astonished, his lips worked, and Ireally expected to see him try to pluck that flower up from the carpet,he ogled it so lovingly. But when I mentioned the lighted laundry and mydiscoveries there, his admiration burst all bounds, and he cried out,seemingly to the rose in the carpet, really to the Inspector:
"Didn't I tell you she was a woman in a thousand? See now! we ought tohave thought of that laundry ourselves; but we didn't, none of us did;we were too credulous and too easily satisfied with the evidence givenat the inquest. Well, I'm seventy-seven, but I'm not too old to learn.Proceed, Miss Butterworth."
I admired him and I was sorry for him, but I never enjoyed myself somuch in my whole life. How could I help it, or how could I preventmyself from throwing a glance now and then at the picture of my fathersmiling upon me from the opposite wall?
It was my task now to mention the advertisement I had inserted in thenewspapers, and the reflections which had led to my rather daringdescription of the wandering woman as one dressed thus and so, and_without a hat_. This seemed to strike him--as I had expected itwould,--and he interrupted me with a quick slap of his leg, for whichonly that leg was prepared.
"Good!" he ejaculated; "a fine stroke! The work of a woman of genius! Icould not have done better myself, Miss Butterworth. And what came ofit? Something, I hope; talent like yours should not go unrewarded."
"Two letters came of it," said I. "One from Cox, the milliner, sayingthat a bareheaded girl had bought a hat in his shop early on the morningdesignated; and another from a Mrs. Desberger appointing a meeting atwhich I obtained a definite clue to this girl, who, notwithstanding shewore Mrs. Van Burnam's clothes from the scene of tragedy, is not Mrs.Van Burnam herself, but a person by the name of Oliver, now to be foundat Miss Althorpe's house in Twenty-first Street."
As this was in a measure putting the matter into their hands, I saw themboth grow impatient in their anxiety to see this girl for themselves.But I kept them for a few minutes longer while I related my discovery ofthe money in her shoes, and hinted at the explanation it afforded forher not changing those articles under the influence of the man whoaccompanied her.
This was the last blow I dealt to the pride of Mr. Gryce. He quiveredunder it, but soon recovered, and was able to enjoy what he calledanother fine point in this remarkable case.
But the acme of his delight was reached when I informed him of myineffectual search for the rings, and my final conclusion that they hadbeen wound up in the ball of yarn attached to her knitting-work.
Whether his pleasure lay chiefly in the talent shown by Miss Oliver inher choice of a hiding-place for these jewels, or in the acumendisplayed by myself in discovering it, I do not know; but he evinced anunbounded satisfaction in my words, crying aloud:
"Beautiful! I don't know of anything more interesting! We have not seenthe like in years! I can almost congratulate myself upon my mistakes,the features of the case they have brought out are so fine!"
But his satisfaction, great as it was, soon gave way to his anxiety tosee this girl who, if not the criminal herself, was so important afactor in this great crime.
I was anxious myself to have him see her, though I feared her conditionwas not such as to promise him any immediate enlightenment on thedoubtful portions of this far from thoroughly mastered problem. And Ibade him interview the Chinaman also, and Mrs. Desberger, and even Mrs.Boppert, for I did not wish him to take for granted anything I had said,though I saw he had lost his attitude of disdain and was inclined toaccept my opinions quite seriously.
He answered in quite an off-hand manner while the Inspector stood by,but when that gentleman had withdrawn towards the door, Mr. Gryceremarked with more earnestness than he had yet used:
"You have saved me from committing a folly, Miss Butterworth. If I hadarrested Franklin Van Burnam to-day, and to-morrow all these facts hadcome to light, I should never have held up my head again. As it is,there will be numerous insinuations uttered by men on the force, andmany a whisper will go about that Gryce is getting old, that Gryce hasseen his best days."
"Nonsense!" was my vigorous rejoinder. "You didn't have the clue, thatis all. Nor did I get it through any keenness on my part, but from theforce of circumstances. Mrs. Boppert thought herself indebted to me, andso gave me her confidence. Your laurels are very safe yet. Besides,there is enough work left on this case to keep more than one greatdetective like you busy. While the Van Burnams have not been provedguilty, they are not so freed from suspicion that you can regard yourtask as completed. If Ruth Oliver committed this crime, which of thesetwo brothers was involved in it with her? The facts seem to pointtowards Franklin, but not so unerringly that no doubt is possible on thesubject."
"True, true. The mystery has deepened rather than cleared. MissButterworth, you will accompany me to Miss Althorpe's."