CHAPTER VI
A CRYING THROUGH THE SILENCE
Garth the next day did not repeat his floral indiscretion. Oneexperience had convinced him that practice is necessary to thesuccessful threading of such by-ways. His rose, in fact, had disclosedits limitations even before he had reached the inspector's flat. On hisentrance it had not adorned his coat.
He read the brief and scarcely illuminating account of the Elmfordmurder in the morning papers. Irritation at his own assignment--anunimportant case up-town--let it slip through his mind without arousingany exceptional interest.
When he returned to the central office in the afternoon the doormanbeckoned to him.
"Inspector's been asking after you."
Garth yawned.
"All right. Tell him I'm here, Ed."
After a moment the doorman called:
"Inspector says, walk in."
Garth went, and paused, ill-at-ease, just within the doorway.
The huge man lolled in his chair. His quiet eyes fixed Garth genially.For once he failed to fidget with his desk paraphernalia. His rumblingvoice was abnormally mild.
Garth appreciated these portents. They connoted favoritism, but hetraced that to the inspector's love for his daughter, because he was toomodest to place in the scales his own conspicuous virtues.
"Come over here and sit down, Garth."
Garth obeyed.
"Thanks, inspector."
The inspector's eyes twinkled.
"Boys tell me you're a little sore on the jobs you've had since yousmashed Slim and George and their favourites."
Garth grew red.
"There are old women everywhere," he said. "Nothing to do but talk."
The inspector guffawed.
"Ain't it so?"
"Incriminating question, chief."
The other leaned forward.
"I can't take chances with such a valuable man."
He cleared his throat.
"Were you thinking of paying your party call to-night? Because I've gotto disappoint you. But I don't want to do that two ways. I can't seeanything particularly dangerous about this job, but I'd like you to lookit over this afternoon. It's the Elmford murder. Suppose you've readabout it."
"I glanced it over in the morning papers," Garth answered. "They wereshort on details."
"There doesn't seem much to clear up," the inspector said, "except Dr.Randall's whereabouts. The men I sent out this morning haven't got atrace. Nothing's been heard from the ferries or the stations or out oftown. Seems there ought to be some indication at the house for a sharppair of eyes."
"There's no doubt then," Garth asked, "that he killed Treving?"
The inspector ran his hand through his hair.
"Those must have been rotten papers you read," he answered. "Ask me ifCain killed Abel. Treving's goings-on with Randall's wife have beencommon gossip. The boys blushed about it in the clubs up town. Listen,Garth. I've found out things you won't get from any papers. Randall andTreving met at their club last night. Seems Randall had overheard someof this conversation. I've had a few of the high-hat crowd down hereto-day, and one of the hall boys who heard what went on between Randalland Treving. Randall warned Treving away with threats. Treving lost hishead and offered to bet he'd spend last evening with Mrs. Randall."
"Good Lord!" Garth exclaimed. "Was he drunk?"
"Can't tell," the inspector said. "The boy thought he had been drinking,but he didn't believe he was drunk. That don't mean much. Nothing like acollege education to teach a man how to carry his liquor. Anyway,Randall came back with his own conviction. Swore he'd shoot Treving ifsuch a thing came off. Well! Randall found Treving late last night inthe lady's dressing-room."
"Pretty bad," Garth agreed, "but I've never thought threats were verysatisfactory evidence."
"Plenty of other evidence," the inspector answered. "Randall had stayedlate in town. He must have driven up and found Treving's car by theverandah. They're both there now. Easy to understand how that sightfixed his resolution to kill. And the signs of the struggle are all overthe room. He left in a hurry after he had shot him. He lost his hat off,rushing down the stairs. It's lying by the newel post. Mark my words.When we find Randall he'll have a new hat or none at all. He had enoughsense not to try to make his getaway in his own machine or Treving's.That's why I'm putting you on the case, Garth. You know what a pipe itis to round up these amateur criminals. I tell you this fellow'sclever."
Garth considered.
"That's clear enough evidence," he said at last, "if the woman--But Isuppose she refuses to open her mouth."
The inspector's rapid fingering of his paper-cutter confessed hisannoyance. His small eyes narrowed.
"Wish I knew if she's acting. She's been practically off her head eversince that motor cop found her kneeling over the body, screaming fitto--to wake the dead. Nothing but hysterics all night and day. Jonesreports she's had some nervous trouble--something about the heart. Hercousin, another doctor, is with her. You know I hate to make a wifetestify. Got to be done though when she comes around. That's about all,Garth. Run out there and see if you can hit Randall's trail."
Garth arose.
"Seems simple, chief. Any dope on the gun?"
The inspector shook his head.
"One of these deadly automatics it ought to be a felony to have around.Natural enough for a doctor to carry one."
He grinned.
"Got to kill their patients one way or another."
"Nothing been disturbed?" Garth asked.
"No. They've taken Treving away, but the room's just as it was when theywere found."
Garth moved towards the door.
"I know you'll bring Randall in," the inspector called.
"I'll do my best," Garth answered.
He hurried through the outer office. Perhaps the inspector was right andthe case promised no unusual excitement, but at least it possessedinterest.
It was late in the afternoon when he reached the station near Elmford.He inquired the way from the agent.
"It's about ten minutes' walk," the man replied. "Maybe you're areporter or a cop? Say, there's no mystery about that case. Any word ofthe doctor?"
Garth smiled discreetly. He disentangled himself from the agent'scuriosity and set off along a road bordered by unlovely suburbandwellings.
These soon gave way to fields and hedges which in turn straggled into aminiature forest. Just beyond that the gateway opened to the left. Garthwalked through and up to the secluded house. He glanced at the twoautomobiles, near each other in the drive.
A tired-looking man in plain clothes lounged in the verandah. Anotherwith a languid air paced up and down at the side. They became animatedand converged on Garth, anxious to know if the inspector had got anyword of Randall.
While he was talking to them Garth first became aware of a mournfulundertone, sometimes punctuated by a shrill, despairing note, nowsmothered in a heavy silence.
"What's that?" he asked sharply.
The men moved restlessly.
"Been listening to that music all day," one of them answered. "Lonelyhole! Who'd want to live here?"
"I see. Mrs. Randall," Garth said. "I'd hoped she'd be able to stand alittle talk by this time."
"Swell chance!" the man answered. "There's a high and mighty sawboneswith her who'd do murder himself before he'd let you get within a mileof her. I'm sick of the rotten case. Nothing to it anyway."
"I'm going in, boys," Garth said. "Inspector told me everything had beenleft."
One of the detectives handed him a key.
"Room's locked. This lets in from the corridor. Key to her bedroomdoor's in the lock."
Garth entered the hall. Randall's hat lay as the inspector had describedit. Its gilt initials stared up at Garth with an odd air of appeal. Hesaw Treving's coat and hat--another tragic excitation for the doctor ifhe had chanced to notice them--on a chair by the table. A key, whichGarth found fitted the front door, lay at the table's edge. Garthre
placed it there and continued up the stairs.
Mrs. Randall's cries were quieter. Garth, inured as he was to unbridledsuffering, was grateful. He unlocked the door of the dressing-room andpaused just across the sill while he made a quick survey of the scene ofthe murder. There was plenty of light and air here, for the curtainswere thrown back and the window was open. Since the doctor hadunquestionably left by the front door he could not understand why thewindow had been opened on such a chilly night. He mused. Beforebothering with Randall's course from the verandah it would be useful toexamine the source of everything.
The table cover was awry. One or two books lay on the floor beneath.Half a dozen long-stemmed roses, faded as they were, still splashedcolor across the carpet of a neutral tint. As his eyes took them inGarth smiled, shame-facedly reminiscent.
He started. The formless, agonized cry of a woman arose and seemed toset in violent motion the atmosphere of this tragic chamber.
The cry was repeated. Garth shivered. He had a quick uncomfortable fancythat the woman was making horrid and superhuman efforts to overcome someobstacle to expression.
"I wish she'd keep quiet," he thought. "Confound it! There's no actingabout that. She wants to talk and can't."
He returned to his scrutiny of the room. Its disordered conditionsuggested a struggle before Randall had fired the shots and dropped therevolver there at the end of the table.
A circle of no great radius would have enclosed the scattered and fadedroses. No--not all. One bud lay farther off, nearer the bedroom door.
Garth tiptoed to it, stooped, and picked it up, examining it curiouslywhile he tried to reconstruct from it an active picture of the tragedy.The stem had been broken away, indicating, since Treving or Randall hadprobably worn it, the close and desperate nature of their struggle. Forit was not like the roses from the vase. They were of a larger varietyand wider open, and this lay, he estimated, near the spot where Treving,conquered and killed, had fallen.
As he stooped there, reflecting, constantly troubled by the impotentsounds from the next room, a ray of late sunlight penetrated thefoliage, entered the open window, and gleamed upon a silvery threadapparently in the carpet. In his haste to reach this thread Garthstumbled noisily against a chair, and, as if in response, while hedetached the thread from the carpet, a gentle knocking reached him fromthe bedroom door.
A little ashamed of his racket, he thrust the thread in his pocket,arose, and opened the door. A tall man with iron-gray hair entered,closing the door gently behind him. His tone was repressed, but Garthdid not miss its annoyance.
"Do you want to kill that woman?"
"I see. The chair," Garth said.
"Every sound from this room," the man explained, "must be torture toher. I suppose you policemen think all this fuss and feathers necessary.You'd do better to get after Randall."
Garth curbed his own irritation.
"When do you think we'll be able to question her?"
"God knows! If this keeps up. She's in a bad way. Do you suppose I'dwaste my time here otherwise. I tell you quiet is essential."
Garth rested his hands against the table. The knotted veins testified tohis anxiety, but his tone was casual.
"By the way, doctor, since you're Mrs. Randall's cousin, you must haveknown the doctor pretty well."
"Yes, yes, very well."
"Did you ever notice--was he in the habit of wearing a flower in hisbutton-hole?"
The other glanced at him suspiciously.
"What are you driving at?"
"Answer me, please," Garth insisted.
"I never saw him with one. He was a very masculine type--noaffectations."
Garth flushed.
"And Mr. Treving?" he asked. "You knew him, too?"
"Slightly."
"Did he?"
"What? Wear a flower? I'm sure I don't know. Never noticed. But I thinkit likely enough."
Garth's hands relaxed. He straightened.
"Thank you, doctor. There'll be no more noise here to-night. I'm sorryabout the chair. I'd rather you didn't say anything about thosequestions."
The doctor's face, which had shown suffering all through, broke into aderisive smile.
"About the flowers! I understand. One must appear wise, even if there'snothing to be wise about."
"Quite so," Garth said gravely.
The other returned to the bedroom and Garth went downstairs. He pausedin the hall long enough to take the latch-key from the table and slip itin his pocket. Then he walked to the back of the house where theservants were collected in an uneasy group. There was a chauffeur, hefound, a butler, a cook, and a maid. Another maid, they told him, waswith Mrs. Randall.
Garth questioned them about last night's wedding and the hour of theirreturn, but they were an incoherent lot, all talking at once, and sayingnothing useful. Therefore he returned to the verandah where he stood,trying to put himself in Randall's place, casting about for his likelycourse when he had sensibly decided not to use his automobile.
The sun had set. The dusk had already rendered objects at a distanceindistinct. A decided chill heralded the night. The two detectives satdisconsolately on the steps. Mrs. Randall's voice continued its pitifulmonotone, now and then torn by unavailing and demoralizing cries.
Garth started. He stared at a patch of shrubbery on the hillside to theright. Certainly something had moved there. It occurred to him that to aman in the shrubbery the three forms under the verandah roof would be inthis light invisible. Again he was sure there was movement over there.If it were Randall, come back! His experience had taught him that such areturn was psychologically conformable.
Without speaking to the others he walked to the end of the verandah anddropped over the rail. Aiding the friendly dusk by keeping behind treesand bushes as far as possible, he approached the patch of shrubbery.After a moment there was no question. The foliage did not wholly secretethe figure of a man. The man appeared to listen. Garth's hand tightenedon his revolver. The description fitted, but that was scarcelynecessary, for on this cold evening the man was hatless.
Garth appraised the fugitive's damp and stained clothing. He couldpicture him hiding all night and day--perhaps in that small, half-ruinedstone building which showed dimly from here--until the necessities ofhunger or the impulse to return to the scene of his crime and learn itsdenouement had driven him from cover. The haggard face seemed eloquentof guilt.
Garth sprang up and, his revolver ready, faced the man.
"Dr. Randall! I've plenty of help near."
Randall stepped back.
"And what about Treving?" he asked in a husky voice.
Garth watched him warily.
"I'm sorry," he answered, "but I've got to take you for his murder."
Randall's face whitened. He held himself rigidly. After a time herelaxed and laughed. His words came with difficulty as if his mouth heldno moisture.
"I'm wanted for Treving's murder!"
"You'll come quietly?"
"Yes. What's that noise? I thought I heard some one scream, a--a woman."
"Dr. Randall," Garth began steadily, "did you ever--"
"See here," Randall interrupted, "I'll answer no questions until I'veseen my lawyer. Where's my wife? What about my wife?"
Garth cleared his throat.
"She's been hysterical--well--practically out of her head."
Garth could not fathom Randall's expression as he walked at his sidetowards the house.
"Of course," he said, "she'll be called as a witness against you--infact the only human witness of the crime itself."
The doctor smiled contentedly.
"Yes," he said. "I should like to see her."
"Dr. Redding's with her," Garth explained, "but if it's in my presenceI've no objection if he hasn't."
Garth waved the two excited detectives away. As he led Randall acrossthe verandah he was provokingly conscious of something missing. When hehad opened the door and taken his captive into the hall, he realized allat once wha
t it was. Mrs. Randall's pitiful and chaotic crying no longerdisturbed the quiet house. He noticed, too, that Dr. Redding haddescended the stairs and leant against the newel post.
"Who's that?" Redding asked.
"Hello, Redding!" Randall said easily.
"Randall! They've got you!"
Randall's contented smile persisted.
"Mrs. Randall?" Garth asked in a low tone. "She's quieter now? Dr.Randall would like to see her."
Redding stepped forward swiftly.
"He can see her," he sneered, "if he's got the courage. She's dead."
He swung in a fury on Randall.
"Two murders on your soul! That's what it comes to. What were youthinking of, man? You'll go to the chair for this."
Randall staggered against the wall where he leant, covering his facewith his hands.
"My only human witness!" he mumbled.
Garth knew it would be a kindness to get him out of this house, butfirst he did his duty with a strong distaste.
"You'd better tell us," he said. "Say something. It might help you inthe end."
Randall lowered his hands. His face worked.
"I'll say nothing--nothing," he cried fiercely.
He stretched out his hands to Garth.
"No handcuffs," Garth said gruffly. "We might go in one of thoseautomobiles."
Randall stumbled forward. He groped about the hat-rack.
"My hat! Where's my hat? Do as you wish. But not Treving's car. GoodGod! You wouldn't take me to jail in Treving's car!"
* * * * * *
Garth was restless the next day. The public, in common with the policedepartment and the district attorney's office, looked upon the caseagainst Randall as proved and, to all purposes, disposed of. But Garth,walking along upper Fifth Avenue in the afternoon, could not resiststopping at an expensive florist's and demanding a rose for hisbutton-hole. When it was brought he asked the price, and, a good dealdisconcerted, handed over the money.
For some time he gazed at the colorful, fragrant flower which swayed onits graceful stem. Then, with an absent air, he placed it on the marblestand and moved towards the door.
The clerks glanced at each other, amused.
"You've forgotten your rose, sir," one of them said.
"No matter," Garth replied. "I've had my money's worth."
He called at the inspector's flat after dinner. The inspector was stillat the office, but Nora commented on his restlessness immediately.
"What are you working on, Jim? Of course you're through with the Elmfordcase."
"Not quite."
He faced her, fighting back the quick emotions in which her proximityalways involved him. He loved her too much to risk demanding at random afixed understanding. Moreover, with this case on his mind, it wasclearly not the hour.
"I've arranged for a number of subpoenas to be served in the morning,"he said. "The servants have left the house. Your father has arranged tocall his men in. In an hour or so the house will be empty.Nora--I--can't stay long this evening."
"Jim! What's on your mind? It's a clear case."
"Yes," he answered. "That's why Jones and the other flat-foot yourfather sent out yesterday didn't search the neighborhood far enough tofind the stone building where Randall hid. It's why when I arrested himI didn't look it over either. The arrest at the time seemed enough. Buthe didn't act like a man caught with the goods. Your father says he'sclever. Maybe he is, but I wonder if he is to that extent. It's been thetrouble all along. It's too clear a case. I talked to his lawyers thisafternoon. He's refused to put in any defence."
"Isn't that proof, Jim, that he knows he hasn't a chance?"
He fumbled, almost unconsciously, with the button-hole in the lapel ofhis coat.
"It might mean," he answered, "that he was protecting somebody else, andthat makes one wonder if there mightn't be something in thehouse--letters, perhaps, in that bedroom I've never had a chance toexplore--something he would like to have destroyed."
"Trust your instinct, Jim."
He arose smiling.
"That's what I've arranged to do."
"Then you're going out there to-night?"
"Yes."
He hesitated, but the temptation was too strong.
"How would you like a taxi-ride to Elmford?"
"Jim, you talk like a millionaire."
"If anything comes of it," he said, "the city will pay. If nothing doesI'll look an awful fool, so I'd rather you didn't ask any questions now.But if you want to come--I know you're game."
She laughed and got her hat and coat.
So they drove to the lonely patch of woods near the Elmford gate whereGarth instructed the driver to wait for them. He led Nora, warning hernot to speak, through the obscurity to the entrance. There he paused,and, after a moment, whistled on a low, prolonged note.
Almost immediately the sound of voices came to them and the scraping offeet in the gravel. Two blacker patches scarcely outlined themselvesagainst the black shrubbery.
"Jones!" Garth called softly.
The men approached.
"All right," Garth said. "Go along home. When did they take Mrs. Randallaway?"
"Over an hour ago. Thought you were never coming. Spooky hole!"
"No alarms?" Garth asked.
"No," Jones replied, "but I can hear that woman yelling yet."
Garth laughed, uneasily.
"Well, good-night. There's no secret about your leaving, but don'tmention at the station that I'm here."
The men merged into the darkness by the gate.
Garth took Nora's arm, and, circling the house at a distance, reachedthe stone building by the stream. He entered, sniffing suspiciously.When he had closed the door he took his flashlight from his pocket andpressed the control.
"Don't move around, Nora."
Quickly he examined the confusion of footprints. It impressed him atonce as significant that none strayed far from the threshold. The dampfloor farther in was disturbed only by a long, irregular depressionmodelled, he knew, by a body, lying prone.
"Think of lying there, Nora," he said. "I'd have preferred standingindefinitely. And why didn't he move around?"
Nora's teeth chattered.
"It's bitter cold in here."
Garth's face set.
"And a fastidious man like the doctor lies here all night and most ofthe day. Then let's see."
He went outside and ran his light over the lines of footprints whichconverged at the door. One set straggled unevenly up the stream. With anexclamation he followed it along the bank until it swung close to thewater. He stooped. His lamp moved searchingly about the bottom of theshallow creek. Nora bent over his shoulder.
"Jim! Do you see that stone? There. Hold your light steady. It's beenmoved. Look at the dark stain on this side."
Garth reached over, rolling the stone away. He drew from the water astout, slender rope and a black cloth. As he raised the cloth a tinybottle fell from its folds and splintered on the rock.
Nora's eyes sparkled.
"Does it fit, Jim?"
"It suggests a lot," he answered, "and it explains something, but it'slittle use unless--"
He caught his breath.
"He might be that kind of a fool."
He sprang upright.
"Come along. We've got to turn up something in the house that will makeRandall talk. Nora! If there had been letters do you think she wouldhave destroyed them one by one? You see there was no chance after themurder, and don't women cling to such things?"
"She'd probably keep them," Nora said.
They climbed the hill. The unlighted house, like a thing dead itself andsurrendered to decay, arose before them forbiddingly.
"Jones was right," Nora said. "It's spooky."
Garth crossed the verandah on tip-toe and silently opened the door.
"No lights," he breathed.
Nora shivered.
"It's as cold and damp here as the stone house. Can
you find your way?"
"Yes. Sh-h."
He led her across the hall, up the staircase, and down the corridor tothe dressing-room. The window had been closed in there, and there was noescape for a humid and depressing chill which enveloped them withdiscomfort.
He found the easy chair and told Nora to sit down. He drew another oneclose.
"But why not lights, Jim?"
"It's logic to wait awhile," he said. "The letters, you know."
She gasped.
"I begin to see."
"Maybe I shouldn't have brought you," he whispered.
"But who--"
"Sh-h!"
"Did you hear anything?" she asked.
"No. If Randall never wore a rose--"
"Jim! I've never--felt such darkness."
"I must think," he said.
But his brain refused to enter the new country of speculation whosegates the discovery in the stream had opened. The dank air of the roomwhere Treving had been murdered was thick with imminence. A formlessanticipation possessed Garth's mind. He had a quick instinct to turn onthe lights and proceed with his search, abandoning this course whichlogic had suggested, but which was fraught, he had no doubt, withpositive apprehension to Nora. Why not, indeed, satisfy her curiositynow? But his pride denied the impulse. He wanted first something moretangible, something more provocative of her praise.
"It frightens me here," Nora breathed. "I've the queerest desire to--toscream."
Her laugh was scarcely audible.
Her words had set Garth's memory to work. He knew again what he missedin this silent house--the amorphous screams of a woman in an agonypowerless to express itself. How she must have wanted to speak! Howhorribly she had tried until the supreme, the enduring silence hadclutched about her throat! The sullen and sepulchral air of the roomseemed to vibrate with the wraiths of those efforts.
Was the door open to the next room where she had struggled and died?
Garth stirred uneasily.
Nora spoke.
"How long?"
"Not long," Garth whispered, "or I'll turn the lights on. I'll look."
His thoughts swung back to the next room and the despair it hadharbored. Could such passionate resistance to circumstance perishutterly? Could the violent will behind it accept silence and pass withthe body into nothingness?
What had she wanted to say?
A movement, scarcely audible, reached him from the next room.
Nora's hand touched his arm. He was aware of the trembling of herfingers. He leant forward, listening. He scarcely caught Nora's voice.
"You heard--that?"
The movement was repeated--somebody--something stirred in the dark roomwhere the woman had died.
Nora swayed against him. Her other hand touched his shoulder. His heartleapt, but he realized that this contact was only an impersonal appealfor protection. So he drew his arms back, but his brain was clearer. Heno longer answered to the fancy that the echoes of those screamstortured his ears.
"Stay here quietly," he whispered.
"Don't go in there, Jim."
He pushed her hands gently away. His movements as he crossed the floorwere stealthier than those which still persisted in the bedroom. Hepaused in the doorway. The darkness was complete, yet he could locatethe movements now against the farther wall.
He drew out his revolver and his flashlight. He pressed the button. Theglare splintered the blackness and centered on the figure of a man whobent over the open drawer of a desk.
"Throw your hands up!" Garth said.
In the dressing-room Nora cried out.
The man at the desk swung around, lifting his hands and exposing thewhite and contorted face of the butler, Thompson.
Garth laughed nervously.
"I've got him, Nora."
"Wh--what do you mean?" the man asked. "I came back--Who are you? Whatdo you want of me?"
Garth stepped forward aggressively. His conscience troubled him not atall.
"I want you for the murder of Frederick Treving--there in the nextroom."
The fellow's jaw dropped.
"No--no. I had nothing to do with it. I swear."
Garth raised his hand to the lapel of the butler's coat.
"I thought so," he said. "No question about you, my man. You wore therose I found where Treving's body lay. Got it at the wedding, didn'tyou?"
The man sank on the unmade bed.
"What are you talking about? I had nothing to do with it."
"Tell that to the judge who'll send you to the chair," he said.
The butler shook. He raised his uncertain hands to his face. Heshuddered.
"No, no. I tell you I had nothing to do with it. It was Mrs. Randall. Heattacked her, and she shot him."
Garth relaxed.
"You heard that, Nora?"
Nora came to the door.
"Yes."
"Then," Garth said, "I am about through with the case."
He turned back to Thompson.
"But you're not clear yet. How did you happen to be here? I know youwent to the wedding with the rest."
"Yes, but Mrs. Randall got me on the telephone--said the doctor had beencalled back to town and she was nervous and I'd have to come home. As Ilet myself in the back way I heard her scream. I ran up and throughthis room. I got to the door just in time to see her shoot him. But whenI rushed in and tried to lift her up she screamed. I couldn't doanything with her. And I got frightened. When I heard the motorcycle andguessed it was a policeman who had heard her screaming, I ran out theservants' entrance and went back to the wedding and came home with therest. I was afraid they would take me, and she couldn't say anything toclear me. That's the truth."
Garth looked him over contemptuously.
"And, knowing the truth, you'd have let Dr. Randall go to trial."
Thompson uncovered his face. Through his tears his eyes glowed with anexceptional devotion.
"I worked for her, sir. I had been with her family ever since she wasborn. Besides, if he didn't want to give her away, what business was itof mine? He sent for me to-day, and when I told him I had seen her shoothim, he made me promise to keep my mouth shut."
"I know he sent for you," Garth said. "That's why I hoped to find youhere to-night. He suspected you were a go-between and that there mightbe letters or something here to incriminate her with Treving."
Thompson nodded.
"I told the doctor, a few letters and trinkets. He said I must get themas soon as the detectives had left and the house was clear. But I cansay, sir, there was never anything really out of the way. She wasn'tquite happy with the doctor. It would be a kindness to the dead--"
Garth smiled, turning to Nora.
"You wouldn't give me away, would you? All right, Thompson. Do what youcame to do."
Thompson shot him a grateful glance and returned to his obliteratingtask at the desk. Garth snapped on the light.
"But, Jim," Nora asked, "how did you know that man had been a witness?Was it a guess?"
Garth shook his head.
"Simple enough," he said.
He took a short, slender, silvery thread from his pocket. With ashame-faced look he handed it to Nora.
"You'd know more about such things than I. It's a wire that made abroken, worn-out rose look a whole lot better than it was. I found itand the rose in the next room. I recognized it, because, Nora, when Icame to dinner the other night I stopped at a sidewalk stand and boughta rose for my button-hole. Silly, wasn't it? But it was a good thing,because I got stung with one of those. That's why I knew what the brokenstem and the wire meant. I learned that Randall didn't wear flowers, andI made sure this afternoon what kind of a rose Treving would have worn.Therefore, somebody else had been in that room, wearing a cheap rosewhich he had almost certainly got at that cheap wedding. When I heardRandall had sent for this man I decided to hold over my subpoenas forthe servants until to-morrow, and run out here myself as soon as thedetectives were called in--maybe get my man when
he wouldn't lie."
Her eyes sparkled.
"And you guessed Randall didn't know about the murder when you caughthim?"
"After I had landed him in jail, his manner, taken with the rest of it,worried me. If he wasn't guilty, why had he hidden all night and day?What we found in the stone house answered that, and almost certainly putit up to Mrs. Randall. Of course he guessed she had done it, and thatcleared her in his eyes. It's why he's been so sentimental aboutprotecting her memory. He didn't want it stained with murder, and he'sprobably figured he could tell some story on the stand that would clearher of the scandal, provided Thompson gathered up these little souvenirsof her indiscretion."
"Jim, I'm proud of you," Nora said. "But will Dr. Randall thank you forinterfering?"
"I think so, when he's got over this first mistaken idea of what he owesher for protecting his honor and her own even to the point of murder.He'll soon be clear-headed enough to weigh both sides. He'll appreciatethen that there isn't much disgrace about such a crime for her,particularly since it's the strongest proof the world could have thatThompson's opinion is right."
He turned to the butler.
"Surely, Thompson, there isn't as much evidence as all that. Come. Weought to get back to town."
As they went down the stairs Garth wondered that his success borrowedits chief value from its effect on Nora. As large as the satisfaction ofclearing an innocent and harassed man, loomed the fact that he had,indeed, provoked her praise.
At the turn their hands met in the darkness. He rejoiced that the warmthof her fingers lingered momentarily in his.