CHAPTER XIII
Philip and Phyllis
Philip Barry, though of the artistic temperament common to hiscalling, had also a businesslike instinct that prompted him tostraight-forward measures in any case where he was speciallyinterested.
And he was deeply interested in learning that Phyllis had been atGleason's rooms the afternoon of the murder, and he wanted the mattercleared up to his own satisfaction.
Wherefore, he went to Phyllis herself and inquired concerning it.
"Were you at Mr Gleason's that day?" was his somewhat direct way ofopening the conversation.
They were alone, in the Lindsays' library, and Phyllis, looking demureenough in a little white house gown, was in perverse mood.
"Good gracious, Phil, are _you_ beginning to suspect me? Go toMillicent with your theories? She has thought from the first that Ishot her brother. Go over to her side, if you like."
"I don't like! It isn't a question of 'sides'! And if it is, ofcourse, I'm on your side. You know that, don't you, Phyllis? You knowI'm for you, first, last and all the time."
"Then help me, Phil, and sympathize, and don't come rushing in hereand screaming out, 'Was I at Mr Gleason's when he was killed?'"
"I didn't say that!"
"You did, practically. Now, what do you mean by it?"
"Why," Barry hesitated, "why, I've been to see that----"
"Ivy Hayes?"
"Yes. And she said you were there."
"Ivy Hayes said I was there! She must be crazy!"
"Weren't you? Tell me you weren't, Phyllis. I'll be so glad to knowit. Where were you that afternoon, late? You never would say."
"Why should I? I won't say now, either, but I was not at MrGleason's."
"Oh, then that's all right." Barry's tense expression relaxed, and hesmiled. "Then that youngster made it all up. I fancied she did--justto make a sensation."
"Why--what did she say, exactly?" Phyllis looked ill at ease.
Barry couldn't suspect her sincerity, but he watched her as he told ofhis interview with Miss Hayes.
"She said I was there! That she was hidden in another room while I wasthere! Why, I wasn't there at all!"
"You didn't go to Mr Gleason's the day of--the day he died?"
"No, I've never been there! Why should I go? It isn't my custom to goto the homes of men I know. They call on me."
"Of course, Phyllis--don't get angry, dear. I didn't think you'd gothere--but there might have been a reason--an errand, you know."
"Well, there wasn't. I wish you'd all stop trying to find out whokilled that man! What difference does it make? He's dead, and it won'tbring him to life to punish his murderer. I think Millicent is foolishabout it."
"It's natural, Phyllis, dear. It isn't exactly revenge, but more anavenging spirit. It's human nature to demand a life for a life."
"But it can't be found out. If they do arrest somebody, it'll mostlikely be the wrong person."
Phyllis looked very lovely as she drew her brows together in aperplexed frown and then smiled.
"Oh, make them stop, Phil. If you advise Millicent, she'll stop."
"I'm afraid my sense of justice is too strong--" Barry began, butPhyllis interrupted him:
"It _is_ too strong if it's stronger than your wish to pleaseme," and she pouted like a scolded child.
"Nothing in my heart is stronger than my wish to please you," Barrysaid, gravely, "and you know it, Phyllis. If you make it a condition,I will most certainly suggest to Mrs Lindsay that she give up herquest. But, such advice would be against my own better judgment."
"But why, Phil?" Phyllis was coaxing now. "Don't you feel sure they'llnever find the murderer?"
"If they don't, Phyllis, they'll always suspect me."
"What do you care--since you are innocent?"
"I care very much! Why, my dear girl, do you suppose I could carrythat burden all my life? Always go about, knowing that many people--oreven a few people suspected me of Robert Gleason's murder? No; when Ithink about it, I'm ready to move heaven and earth, if that werepossible, to find the true criminal!"
Phyllis shuddered and her face went white.
"Couldn't you forget in time?" she said, bravely struggling to speaksteadily.
"Never! Why, Phyllis, that letter is enough to condemn me--only Ididn't write it."
"Didn't you, really, Phil?"
The girl leaned forward, and looked into his eyes so earnestly thatBarry recoiled in amazement. Did she suspect him? Phyllis!
"Don't!" he cried out, "don't look as if you thought me guilty! You,of all people!"
"Oh, I don't," she said, quickly, "but I thought you might havewritten the letter, meaning something else. The fact of your writingit doesn't make you the criminal."
"But I didn't. Listen, Phyllis--I love you--oh, sweetheart, how I loveyou! but I've resolved not to ask you for love, until I can offer youan unstained name----"
"Your name isn't stained! I won't have you say such things!"
Her sweet smile was encouraging, but Barry shook his head:
"No, dear, you mustn't even be kind to me. I can't stand it! You knowmy name _is_ affected until the mystery of that letter isexplained. It's the most inexplicable thing! Why, look at it! Wefellows all discussed murder, and discussed Gleason and that very dayhe was killed and that letter was found in his desk! It was a piece ofdiabolical cleverness on somebody's part!"
"But, Phil, just as an argument. How could anybody write that letterbut you?"
"I don't see, myself. But somebody did do it. I've thought it over andover. I've looked at this letter through a lens, but there's no traceof erased writing, nor any possibility of my signature having beenpasted into another sheet, or anything like that."
"I've seen wonderful inlay work, where one piece of paper is joined toanother actually invisibly."
"So have I, and I thought of that. But it wasn't done in this case.That sheet of paper--Club paper, is absolutely intact, it is typedjust as I type things-a little carelessly--and the signature is likemine. I would say it is mine, only--I didn't write it!"
"Maybe somebody hypnotized you."
"No; I've never been hypnotized--nor has any one ever attempted such athing with me. It's diabolical, as I said. But I'll find out if ittakes my life time! Now, you see, dear, why I don't want you to urgeme to stop investigation on the part of anybody. Besides, Mrs Lindsayisn't the only one eager to solve the mystery. The detectives, thepolice, are as anxious as she is."
"I don't think so. I think they're getting tired of having no results.I think, if Millicent gave up the search, they soon would do so."
"But why? Why, Phyllis, are you desirous of having it given up?"
"Oh, I don't know! I'm tired of it, that's all. And now, you'redragging me into it----"
"Phyllis, as you said to me--if you're innocent, your name can't beharmed."
"Well--suppose I'm not innocent--would you stop then?"
Barry stared at her. He thought at first her speech was merely anoutburst of the perversity which now and then showed in her volatilenature. But her face was drawn and white and her eyes dark with a sortof terror he had never before seen her show.
However, he saw no choice but to treat her speech lightly.
"Oh, yes, of course! But until you tell me you're the villain of thepiece, I shan't be able to believe it."
"I didn't like Mr Gleason."
"Who did? Check up, now. If we're to suspect all who didn't like theman, there's Pollard, Davenport, you, me----"
"And Mr Pollard's mythical Westerner. Oh, Phil, I wish _he_ couldbe found!"
"Who? Pollard?"
"No; the man he thinks came from the West--an old acquaintance of MrGleason's."
"Yes, he's a fine suspect, but a bit intangible. Perhaps he wrote thenote I signed!"
"Don't jest, Philip. I'm--I'm so miserable."
Phyllis bowed her face in her hands and cried softly.
"Don't--don't, Phyllis, darling. For heaven's sake, k
eep out of themuddle."
"But you dragged me into it! You came here checking up on mymovements. Why did you do that?"
"I told you why. Because Ivy Hayes said you were there."
"Oh, yes--so she did. I forgot that. Well--maybe I was--maybe Iwas----"
"Phyllis, hush. You're talking wildly. And here's another thing. Wherewas Louis that afternoon?"
"Phil Barry, you stop! Are you going to accuse the whole family? Whydon't you ask where Millicent was?"
"I ask about Louis because I've been told he was there."
"And I was there! And Ivy Hayes was there! And the man from the Westwas there! Quite a party!"
Phyllis laughed shrilly--not at all like her usual gentle laugh, andBarry watched her in alarm, lest she grow hysterical.
"I won't," she said, divining his fear. "I'm not hysterical, but I'mdistracted. Oh, Phil, do help me!"
"Of course I will, little girl," Barry held out his arms. "Come to me,Phyllis, let's forget all the horrible things of life and just loveeach other--and belong."
"No," she drew away from him. "Not yet. If your name must becleared--so must mine."
"But your name isn't even mentioned."
"Yes, it is," Phyllis said, speaking in a dull, slow way, "yes, itis--and the worst of it is, my name can't be cleared."
"Hush," Barry cautioned, "somebody's coming in."
The street door closed, and a moment later, Manning Pollard made anappearance.
The conversation, though general, was not spontaneous, and after ashort time, Barry took his leave. Though he did not consider Pollardan actual rival of his in Phyllis' favor, yet he felt disgruntled whenthe other was present. And, too, he wanted to go off by himself tothink over what Phyllis had said.
He knew her too well to imagine for a moment that she was merely upsetby the whole situation and wanted the investigation to be stopped.
He knew she had some definite and imperative reason for begging him toquit searching and also that she meant something when she said her ownname could not be cleared.
That remark, of course, could not be taken at its face value, but allthe same, it meant something--and he must find out what.
Manning Pollard was confronted with the same question.
Apparently unable to control her nervous fear, Phyllis said, at once:
"Oh, Mr Pollard, can't you help me? I'm in such trouble. That MissHayes says I was at Mr Gleason's the day of the murder!"
"And were you?"
"No!--or, well, maybe I was. But that has nothing to do with it. Can'tyou hush up the Hayes girl? Must she tell of it, if I _was_there?"
"It would be a pretty difficult matter to stop her mouth."
"But if I paid her?"
"Ah, then you would get yourself in trouble! Don't do anything of thatsort, I beg of you! Tell me all about it, Miss Lindsay. I'm sure I canhelp--and if not, won't it relieve you to talk it over? What is thenew development?"
"Oh, only that probably I shall next be suspected of the Gleasonmurder!"
"Yes?" Manning Pollard didn't look so intensely surprised as Phyllishad anticipated.
"Oh, I know Millicent has foolishly said that I did it--but she didn'tmean it. She'd suspect anybody from the mayor to the cook! But, now,that little chorus girl--or whatever she is--has said that I was inthe room with Mr Gleason, when he----"
"When he was killed! Oh, no!"
"Why, she practically says that. It seems she was there herself."
"She was there! When Mr Gleason was shot!"
"Oh, she couldn't have been--could she? But--you see I don't knowexactly what she said----"
"Then don't try to quote her, but tell me what you do know. Did shetry to implicate you?"
"Yes--I think she did."
"You're not sure----"
"No; only she said I was there----"
"Were you?"
"I--I don't want to tell you----"
"Miss Lindsay, don't tell me--don't tell anybody! If you were therekeep it to yourself--and if not--there's no occasion to say so. Iunderstand what you're trying to do. Keep it up. That's why I inventedthe Western man!"
"Invented him! You don't really believe in him?"
"Oh, I suppose invented isn't the right word. But--of course, I've noproof of his existence. He _may_ well be a fact--or, again, hemay not be. I only say that there's a possibility--even a probabilitythat Gleason _may_ have known somebody out there who came afterhim here and killed him. Nobody can deny the possibility, at least."
"No, of course not."
"You've no idea of the identity of any such person?"
"I? Oh, no."
"It would be a good thing if you could remember Mr Gleason's havingtold you of such a one."
Phyllis looked up suddenly, and caught Pollard's meaning glance. Couldit be? Was he hinting that she should make up some such story. Itcouldn't be!
"Why?" she said, quietly.
"I think you know," he spoke gently, "but if you want me to put itinto words, I will. The Hayes girl has told several people--MrPrescott among them, that you were at the Gleason rooms about sixo'clock that night. Now, you know, you have refused to say where youwere at that time--and it is not surprising that their suspicions arearoused. For you to deny being there would not be half so efficaciousas for you to turn the thoughts of the detectives in some otherdirection. Suppose, for instance, you were to remember some man MrGleason told you of. Some name--let us say--and suppose the detectivesset themselves to work to find the individual. If they can't find him,you harm nobody, and--you divert attention from yourself."
Phyllis did not pretend to misunderstand. Nor did she treat the matterlightly.
"You think I am in danger, then?" she asked.
"Oh, don't say danger--I don't like the word. But, your name will bebandied about--will be in the papers--unless you quash the thing inthe beginning. You haven't admitted you were there, but, suppose it isproved that you were, and suppose you tell of this man, of whom MrGleason spoke to you--spoke to you at that very time--and suppose yourstory is that you were there about six--that you left soon after--andthat Mr Gleason was even then fearing the arrival of this enemy ofhis."
Again Phyllis looked him in the eyes.
Pollard was a magnetic man, his face inspired confidence, but morethan that, the girl read in the deep, dark eyes a troubled care forherself--for her own safety and well-being.
She knew Pollard admired her--most of her men friends did, but onlynow was she aware of his passionate love.
"It's a terrible thing that I'm advising," he said, in a whisper, "butI realize the gravity of the situation. Phyllis--I care so much--somuch--and I can't help seeing how things are tending. You know I haveno shadow of suspicion of you--my beautiful--my darling--but otherswill--others will be swayed by the Hayes story, and--though you leftthe place before Mr Gleason was killed--yet it must have been onlyshortly before--and somebody did come in and kill him--so, why notsay----"
"I see your point, I see how I am endangered--even if I'm innocent. IfI'm innocent."
"Why do you say that?" Pollard looked at her wonderingly. "At least,don't say it to me! And forgive my abruptness, but I must tell you howI love you. I must ask you if you can't love me--oh, Phyllis, even alittle? Do you, dear?"
"Please, Mr Pollard--please don't say those things now--I'mso-worried----" The soft eyes filled with unshed tears.
"I know it, my little girl--I know it--and that's why--I want to be ina position to help you--I mean I want to have a right--to let theworld know I have the right, to protect you. Will you give it tome--Phyllis--will you?"
The big man leaned toward her, his attitude reverently affectionate,and Phyllis felt wonderfully drawn to him. He was so capable, soefficient, and though she felt a sense of potential mastery in hismanner, she did not resent it, but rather rejoiced in it.
"Oh," she breathed, looking at him, with startled, shining eyes,"oh--I can't say--now. Don't ask me now."
"Yes, I shall--now--my beloved
, my queen! Oh, you beautiful girl, youmay not love me yet, but I'll make you--I'll make you!"
The smile that accompanied the words took away any hint of tyranny,and the pleading in Manning Pollard's eyes was hard to resist.
But Phyllis hesitated. She didn't know him so very well, and, too, shehad a feminine notion that to say yes at once would make her seem toowilling. Moreover, she wanted to think it over, alone, by herself.
She had always thought she loved Phil Barry--but somehow, in a momentthis insistent wooer had pushed Phil to the background.
"Not now," she said, softly, as she gave him her hand, "I will thinkabout what you've said--but I can't promise now."
"No, dear, I understand," and as Pollard's strong fingers closed overher own, Phyllis was almost certain what her eventual answer to himwould be. He was so gentle in his strength, so tender in hismanliness--and he seemed a real refuge for her in her uncertainties.
"But, here's another thing," he went on; "I hate to tell you, but thequestion of your having been in Gleason's room is bound to beraised--and I want to say that I saw you--that afternoon at about sixo'clock. I tell you, so you won't try any prevarication on me."
The last was said with a good-natured smile, that gave a feeling ofcamaraderie which delighted Phyllis' heart. She didn't want to giveherself irrevocably to Pollard--yet--but she was glad to have him fora friend--and his frank, pleasant friendliness cheered her very soul.
"Where in the world did you see me?" she asked.
"At the crowded corner of Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street. I hadjust left Phil Barry--we came down from the Club together--and I sawyou, in a cab--with a strange man. Who was he, Phyllis?"
The assured manner of his query was not lost on the girl, but she didnot resent it.
"Must I tell you?" she smiled.
"No--no, dear. But I wish you wanted to be frank with me--to confidein me."
"Oh, I will--I do--but--I can't."
"Then you needn't--and, don't look so distressed, my poor little girl.Tell me only what you want to--just let me help in any way that youwant me to. And, Phyllis--I hate to make this proposition, but I must.If anything happens--if anything is said that frightens you, ortroubles you deeply--will you--if you feel it would help you in anyway--will you say that you are engaged to me?"
"When I'm not!"
"You may consider that you are or not, as you wish; but I have an ideathat occasion might arise, when it would help you to announce theengagement--to assert that you have some one to look after you. If youwant to break it later--that is, of course, your privilege."
"Oh," said Phyllis, looking at him, admiringly, "how good you are!Nobody else would have thought of that!"
"Don't misunderstand me. I want you--I want you to say yes to me forkeeps, some day. But in the meantime, if it ever should serve yourpurpose, claim me as your fiance."