CHAPTER XVII
Zizi
"Mrs Lindsay?" Zizi said, by way of interrogative greeting, and, witha second nod to Louis, she crossed the room and sat down by Phyllis.
"Miss Lindsay," and the visitor took both Phyllis' hands in her own."I am so glad to know you. May I help you?"
"Oh, I hope you can," Phyllis said, fascinated by the strange child.
For Zizi looked like a child. Little, slim, and of a lithe, nervouspersonality, her big, dark eyes gazed into Phyllis' with an expressionof intense interest in her and her affairs.
"You're troubled," she went on, as Phyllis responded to her evidentfriendliness. "But it will be all right; Pennington Wise will clear upthe mystery and you will be glad again."
"You queer little thing!" Millicent exclaimed. "Turn around here andlet me look at you."
Zizi, turned, smiling, her white teeth just showing between herscarlet lips, her eyes dancing, cheeks glowing, and her black hairmuffed over her ears--a highly-colored picture of vivid, restlessvitality.
"Yes, Mrs Lindsay," she responded in her low, yet clear voice, "andplease like me, for I'm going to stay here."
"Stay here!"
"Yes, please, during the investigation. Mr Wise will come and go, butI have to be here all the time."
"Why, certainly--of course, if you wish----"
"Good!" Louis cried; "glad to have you stay, Miss----"
"Zizi," she said, "just Zizi." And the smile she flashed on Louis wasthe complete undoing of that impressionable young man.
"And now to business," Zizi went on, her manner changing subtly fromthe witch-like, fascinating child to the energetic young woman. "Tellme things."
"We've already told Mr Wise about the case----" Millicent began.
"Not the kind of things you tell him--other things. About this MrBarry, now. Has he a high temper?"
Phyllis stared-What had Phil Barry's temper to do with the murder ofRobert Gleason?
"You see," Zizi explained, "if he had, the note might have meant he'dkill his rival--if not it might have meant a lesser threat."
"He has a high temper," Phyllis admitted, reluctantly; "I may as wellsay so, for others would tell you that. He's a mild, equable nature aslong as things go his way. But if he's thwarted or crossed, even intrifles, he flies in a rage at once. I oughtn't to say this----"
"Because it seems to incriminate him," Zizi nodded her little head;"but I compel the truth--don't I?" she smiled at Phyllis. "I'll betyou wouldn't have said that to any other detective. Well, now, withthe knowledge that Mr Barry is quick tempered, that he was jealous ofMr Gleason and that he wrote the threatening letter, and that he hasgiven no positive account of what he was doing at the criticalmoment--shall we suspect him? Answer, no."
"Why?" Phyllis spoke breathlessly, relieved but anxious to know more.
"Well, principally for the reason that he has confessed."
"Don't murderers ever confess?" Louis asked, his eyes on the beautifulyoung thing that was of a type hitherto unknown in his experience.
Zizi was not really beautiful, but her magnetic charm was so great,her ways so winsome, and her mysterious eyes so full of changingexpression and half-veiled witchery that she enthralled them all.
Wise watched her. He was accustomed to have his clients surprised athis strange little assistant, but oftener they were critical thanwholly admiring. Tonight, however, Zizi was at her best--she was morethan usually attractive, and her manner was gentler than she oftenchose to make it.
"Oh, yes," she said, in reply to Louis' query, "but you have to knowwhy they confess. You see Mr Barry confessed to shield some one else."
"Who?" Louis asked, but he flushed and looked embarrassed.
"You know who," Zizi returned, "and maybe it wasn't only yourself, butPhyllis, too. You see--you must see, all of you, that the situation isserious. Louis was there very shortly before the crime took place.Phyllis is said to have been there--whether she was or not--no one canbe found who saw or spoke to Mr Gleason after that--so it would bejust like the detectives to fasten the crime on one or both of theLindsays. Anyway, that's the way it looked to Mr Barry, and in hisquick tempered--which means impulsive way--he gave himself up.Although he is as innocent of the crime as you two are."
"My goodness!" Millicent exclaimed, "you start out by clearing allthose who have been suspected!"
"Not all. There still remain several of the Club men--also thepossibility of a stranger--I mean a stranger to you people who areinterested. Mrs Lindsay, where did your brother live before he went toSeattle?"
"In a little village in New Hampshire--Coggs' Hollow."
"Lovely name! Did you live there, too?"
"No; I lived in Ohio with my parents. An uncle, my mother's brother,took Robert to live with him, in New Hampshire, when the boy was quitesmall. That's why Robert and I never saw much of each other. We wereaffectionate enough when we met, but living apart, we were not reallyintimate. I was surprised when he came East, and we renewed our familyrelations. Then----"
"Then he fell in love with Phyllis"--Zizi interrupted. "And it wasn'treciprocated."
"Quite true," Phyllis said, calmly.
"Yes," Millicent agreed, "it was really love at first sight. And asPhyllis had any number of suitors, Robert tried to cut them out bypromises of such luxuries and dazzling prospects as his wealth couldoffer. But Phyllis couldn't seem to bring herself to say yes----"
"But she had, hadn't she?" Zizi didn't look at Phyllis. "Wasn't thedinner party to be an announcement?"
Millicent shrugged her shoulders.
"I don't know," she said: "ask her."
Zizi turned. "How about it, Phyllis?"
"I don't know, either," Phyllis said, slowly. "I had halfpromised--because--oh, why not tell? because Mr Gleason had promisedme a lot of money--which I very much needed--at once--if I would makethe announcement that night."
"Go on, tell it all," Pennington Wise put in; "you wanted thatmoney----"
"To pull me out of a desperate hole," Louis burst forth. "I got inbad--very bad--with some gamblers and some loan sharks--and Sis wasgood enough to try to get me out of it. She--she didn't have to marryold Gleason--even if she did announce an engagement."
"Hush, Buddy," said Phyllis, looking at him reprovingly; "I neverthought of saying yes to him, and backing out afterward. I wouldn't dosuch a thing. But I planned to go there that afternoon and try oncemore to persuade him to give me the money, without a definite promiseon my part. I hoped that for the sake of Louis' good name I couldpersuade him. But--I didn't go."
"Never mind all that," Zizi said, impatiently, "it won't get usanywhere to mull over that. Now, Penny Wise, here's where I stand. Allpeople here present are innocent of this crime. Philip Barry--Ithink--is also innocent. I've no reason to suspect a stranger--anacquaintance of Mr Gleason's--and I think if there were such anindividual, there must have been some trace of him. People don't glidein and out of a situation like shadows."
"Go slow, Ziz," cautioned the detective, looking at her thoughtfully."Keep your imagination in leash."
"Yes, sir," and she bowed with mock docility. "Now, if you'll excuseme, I have to go to Coggs' Hollow."
"To-night!" gasped Millicent, as Zizi rose, and began pulling on hergloves.
"Yes; there's a train at midnight, I can easily catch it. Good-by,all."
She drew her cloak together and fastened it, and held out her hand toWise with a demanding gesture.
Understandingly, he took out his pocketbook, and gave it to herwithout a word.
She tucked it into her roomy handbag, and turned to the door.
"I'll go with you," Louis cried, already in the hall, and getting intohis overcoat.
"To the station? Thank you," Zizi smiled.
"No; all the way. To New Hampshire."
"Nixy!" she laughed, flashing her white teeth. "He travels the fastestwho travels alone. But I'll be glad to have you entrain me."
The two went out together, and hailing a ta
xicab, Louis delightedlyput Zizi in.
"Anyway, I'll have you to myself for an hour," he exulted. "What areyou, I can't make you out. A sprite, a witch, an elf?"
"Oh, yes, all those things, and a girl beside. And you needn't fall inlove with me--it would be a foolishness."
"But I've already fallen."
"Oh, well, all right. It doesn't matter." Zizi was absorbed inthought, and seemed really to care nothing at all for Louis' state ofmind.
Meantime, Millicent was demanding of Pennington Wise an explanation ofthe astonishing Zizi.
"Don't worry about her," he said, smiling. "Don't think about her.She never does a wrong thing--in detective work, I mean. She will someday--I daresay--and it may be she has now. But she acts on impulse, onintuition, on what some people call a hunch. And I've never known herto slip up. She is a wonder--but don't try to understand her--for youcan't."
"But will she go to New Hampshire--all alone by herself? At night!"
"Oh, yes, and she'll take care of herself."
"Louis will go with her," Phyllis said, "I know he will."
"No, Miss Lindsay, you're mistaken there. Zizi won't let your brotheraccompany her."
"I'm sure it would be all right," Millicent observed; "at work on acase, you know."
"Right enough, but Zizi won't let him go because she doesn't want himto. Now, as to Mr Gleason's will. Did you two ladies know about itsterms?"
"We weren't certain," Millicent said, "for my brother changed it quiteoften. He was ready to settle a large amount on Phyllis at once if shewould consent to marry him, but he had already made a will leaving hisfortune equally divided between us two. He never liked Louis, rather,he disapproved of him. Of late, Louis has run wild----"
"It isn't his fault," Phyllis defended; "he has been duped and deludedby a lot of men with whom he had no business to associate at all. Butlet's leave Louis out of it, for Mr Wise has declared he doesn'tsuspect him, and he is in no other way concerned in this business."
"That's true, Miss Lindsay. Now, tell me, did Mr Gleason contemplatechanging his will again in case Miss Lindsay refused him definitely?"
"Yes, he did," Phyllis stated; "he told me unless I made theannouncement at the dinner party, he would change his will and cut meout of it entirely."
"Did he, then, assume that you could be bought in that fashion."
Phyllis colored, but she replied, "Yes, he did. But, mostly because heknew how desperately I wanted money for my brother. And, too, it isn'ta gracious thing to say--but Mr Gleason was not such an attractive manthat he had much reason for being accepted outside of his wealth."
"I see; and he had made the existing will recently?"
"Within a month or so."
"Who knew of it?"
"No one, I believe," Millicent said, "but Phyllis and Louis andmyself--except, of course, the lawyer who drew it."
"Mr Fred Lane?"
"Yes."
"Wasn't he one of that group of men who were discussing murder at theClub that day?"
"Yes," Millicent looked inquiringly at him; "but you don't dream thatMr Lane----"
"Why not?"
"Oh, nonsense, Fred Lane and my brother were good friends."
"At any rate, it is to the men of that group that I shall first directmy investigations. Few of them really liked Mr Gleason. Forgive me, ifI seem unkind, Mrs Lindsay, but I cannot work if trammeled by toogreat consideration for your feelings."
"Don't stop for that, Mr Wise. I quite understand. And I know mybrother was not a favorite with the Club men. He was too different. Hewas out of the picture. They had little in common. Now, in so far asthat is of assistance to you in forming your theories, use it, for itis quite true. My brother was a far better and worthier man than mostof them, but his ways were different and he did not show to advantagewhen among them. If Phyllis could have cared for Robert he could havemade her very happy, I know. But that's all past. What I want now, isto avenge my brother's death. To discover and punish his murderer, nomatter who he may be. I beg of you, Mr Wise, spare no time, pains orexpense to ferret him out."
"Indeed I shall not. Can you think of any grievance or reason forenmity toward Mr Gleason on the part of those men I refer to?"
"Only one reason, Mr Wise, and that applies to several. They werejealous of his attentions to Miss Lindsay."
"Oh, Millicent!" Phyllis cried, in protest.
"It is true. Miss Lindsay is a belle, and all the men of that groupwere her admirers--or almost all. Doctor Davenport, is, of course,excepted, and Mr Lane. They are married men."
"Leaving Mr Barry, Mr Pollard and Mr Monroe."
"Yes; and they surely cannot be suspected. You have declared Mr Barryinnocent, Mr Pollard was in his own home at the time of the crime, andDean Monroe--why, he hasn't even been thought of."
"Has he been inquired of as to his whereabouts at the time?"
"I don't know, I'm sure. Has he, Phyllis?"
"I don't know. But it's silly to think of Dean! Why, he scarcely knewMr Gleason."
"But he is devoted to you?" Wise asked the question so casually thatPhyllis answered, frankly, "Yes, he is. That is, he has asked me tomarry him."
"And you refused?"
"I did. But, Mr Wise, is it necessary to tell you such things?"
"It is, Miss Lindsay. I fully believe that you are the innocent causeof this murder. This attaches no blame to you, in any way, but itmakes it imperative for me to learn these details. Probably ninecrimes out of ten are committed because of a woman--so don't let itdisturb you."
"Not disturb me!" Phyllis cried; "of course it disturbs me! If thereare women so foolishly vain as to enjoy stirring up strife among theiradmirers, I am not of that sort. I wish I were dead!"
"There, now, Phyllis," Millicent said, "don't act like that. I, too,believe the murderer was somebody who was jealous of Robert because ofyou, but you can't help that. I'm sure my brother had no enemy whowould come from the West to kill him."
"You can't be sure of such a thing as that, but we can prove up wherethe people were who might be suspected here."
Methodically Wise went about the job.
Although he had told the Lindsays he was sure of Philip Barry'sinnocence, none the less did he look into his alibi.
And it seemed to be all right. The doorman and the desk clerk at thesmall hotel where he lived were almost certain that he had came inthat afternoon, just about six, as he said he did. They were notwilling to swear to it, but they were reasonably certain, and Wisefelt pretty sure they were right.
Next he went to the nearby hotel where Pollard lived.
"Yes, sir," declared the doorman there, "I saw Mr Pollard come in--henodded to me just like he always does. And later, I saw him when hewent out again. I put him into his taxi myself."
"At what time, about?"
"No about about it. It was just twenty-five minutes to seven----"
"How do you know?"
"I'll tell you how I know. Mr Pollard glanced at his wrist watch as hegot into the cab. It had a radium dial, and I saw it plain."
"Mr Pollard wears a wrist watch, then?"
"Yes, he's worn it ever since the war. Got used to it over there, Is'pose. Well, anyway, that's what happened, so--if the watch wascorrect--it was seven-twenty-five."
"Good," said Wise. "And, as I understand it, one or two people saw MrPollard in his room, or heard him telephone during the hour or so hewas here?"
"Yes, sir," the desk clerk rehearsed the story a little wearily. Theemployees of the hotel had told the tale often, for owing to ManningPollard's threat--which had passed into history--he was frequentlybeing suspected by somebody, detective or amateur, and the hotelpeople had been called upon to rehearse the story until they wereletter perfect in their parts.
Next, Pennington Wise investigated the doings of Dean Monroe.
And the result was that he learned that Monroe had gone from the Clubthat day straight to the home of his mother, and had remained with heruntil so late that he had
to make great haste dressing for dinner inorder to reach the Lindsay house on time.
"H'm," said Penny Wise, profoundly, to himself; "h'm."
Three days later, Zizi returned. She went to Wise's apartment beforegoing to the Lindsay house.
"Find out much?" he asked her, as she flung off her wraps, anddeposited her small person in a very large easy chair.
"I sure did! But I'm glad to get back! New England is no paradise inwinter. Get me something to eat, there's a bright Penny."
"All right," and Wise rang a bell. "Take your time, Ziz, but have alittle pity on a mere man, consumed with curiosity."
"I will. Coggs' Hollow is exactly what its name sounds like. A tiny,primitive village, just the same now as it was a quarter of a centuryago, when Robert Gleason lived there, with his uncle."
"You found people who knew him, then?"
"I did."
"Could they throw any light on the murder--or its cause?"
"Not light--but a sort of a glimmer of a glow of a hint of dawn."
"Good! That's enough. You succeeded, then!"
"Oh, yes; and, Penny Wise, whom do you suppose I saw up there, alsonosing about?"
"Who?"
"Mr Manning Pollard."
"Ziz, you're crazy. He wasn't there. I've seen him myself every dayyou've been gone."
"Seen him! Seen Manning Pollard? Penny, _you're_ crazy!"
CHAPTER XVIII
The Luminous Face
"No, Zizi, my child, I'm not crazy. And, as a matter of fact, I supposeyou're not, either. Now, what do you mean by thinking you saw Pollardin New Hampshire when I know he was here in New York?"
"First, you tell me what you mean by thinking he was here in New Yorkwhen I saw him in Coggs' Hollow?"
"Saw him? and talked with him?"
"No; I didn't see him to speak to--but I saw him."
"Where was he?"
"Walking along the street."
"Did he see you?"
"Yes."
"Did he speak to you, or bow?"
"Oh, no; he doesn't know me!"
"How do you know him?"
"I don't. But I've seen his picture--both in the paper and at MissLindsay's, and, as you know yourself, he's unmistakable. Nobody couldtake any one else for Manning Pollard! Why, that face is of a type notoften seen. And his physique, and his big, square shoulders--why,Penny, I know it was he."
"Well, Ziz, I don't say it wasn't, but we must puzzle out how he gotup there and why he went."
"What have you done here while I was away?"
"I've found out all about the Barry letter for one thing."
"Tell me."
"A cleverly contrived thing. It was originally written in vanishingink and Barry signed it in real ink. Then, when the vanishing inkvanished, the perpetrator of the precious scheme filled in the typedletter above the signature."
"Clever! What was the original document?"
"It was a testimonial or something of the sort to a Club servant. HeadSteward, or somebody, and this testimonial was arranged for him. Barryremembers being asked to sign and remembers signing. Then he forgotall about it."
"Weren't others to sign?"
"Barry thought so, but the matter was never carried on."
"H'm. Who asked Barry to sign?"
"Dean Monroe."
"How he continues to crop up! Is he the murderer?"
"Now, look here, Zizi, we're up against an enormously interestingcase. It's simple up to a certain point, and then it's inexplicable.The murderer is one of the cleverest men on this planet. For, look. Hearranged that letter deliberately, fixed up the Club servant scheme,to get Philip Barry's signature on a blank sheet of paper. Havingthat, he later wrote in whatever he chose. His cleverness consisted,at this point, in not overdoing. Had he made the letter a threat ofmurder, it would have looked false on the face of it, for Barry is notlike that. Well, he had this letter ready to plant in Gleason's deskafter he had committed his crime--and he did so. Next, he left nofingerprints on the telephone or on the revolver, save those ofGleason himself. Was that clever?"
"Oh, Penny, it was! And he made the prints on the telephone with MrGleason's fingers after Mr Gleason was dead! And he did thetelephoning himself!"
"Yes; how quick you are, Zizi! That's exactly what happened, becausethat's the only way it could have been. Now, a man clever enough forall that is clever enough for anything. Yet I can't see how he did it.Nor do I grasp his motive."
"Jealous of Phyllis?"
"That isn't enough to account for the crime."
"No, it isn't! He had another motive, and I've found it out. I foundout up in Coggs' Hollow."
"Going to tell me?"
"You bet I am! Right away. How did you guess the man?"
"I didn't guess. I deduced from his alibi. Such a clever villain--whatwould he naturally choose by way of alibi?"
"Just what he did do. Pretend not to have any--but when theyinvestigate, they find he has a cast-iron one!"
"Exactly, and Manning Pollard's was all that. But I can't see how hemanaged it."
"There's only one way. He must have had a confederate who did thekilling."
"No; a clever criminal doesn't have a confederate. No; Pollard killedGleason himself. By the way, Zizi, I found Pollard's fingerprints onthe Barry letter."
"But Dean Monroe did that."
"Dean Monroe asked Barry to sign it, but--he told me himself--Pollardgave him the paper and asked him to get Barry's signature. This,Monroe did, and gave the paper back to Pollard. Later, Pollard toldMonroe the plan had been given up. I dug that all out, withoutspeaking to Barry about it. I don't want Pollard to imagine we suspecthim. Now, my child, what was his motive?"
"A pretty strong one. It seems that Manning Pollard is an illegitimatechild. He was born in Coggs' Hollow, of unmarried parents. Later, hisfather and mother married, so he was legally legitimized. But ofcourse, a stigma remains. Now, Mr Pollard is several years youngerthan Robert Gleason, so the assumption is that Robert Gleason, wholived all his boyhood in Coggs' Hollow, knew this secret of Pollard'sbirth, and had threatened to expose him, unless he desisted fromtrying to win Phyllis away from Gleason."
Pennington Wise thought a few moments.
"That's it," he said, at last; "that's it, Zizi. You're a wonderfulchild for sure! How did you get it?"
"I went straight to the town clerk, and he not only showed me hisbooks, but he told me the story. He knows nothing of the Gleasonmurder, and I didn't tell him. Up in that little dot of a village theydon't know the news of New York."
"But they must know of Gleason's death. He was a foremost citizen,wasn't he?"
"Of Seattle, yes. But when he left Coggs' Hollow he was a young man oftwenty-five or so, and I suppose they've forgotten all about him.Anyway, the town clerk didn't remember him very clearly, but heremembered all about the Pollard family. Of course, it was acelebrated case up there.
"The fact of the couple's marriage, five or six years after ManningPollard's birth, was a sensational affair, and though nobody couldblame Mr Pollard, the fact remains that he was really an illegitimatechild."
"And, knowing this, Gleason probably was quite ready to tell it, andso----"
"And so, Pollard made it impossible for him to tell. Now, Penny Wise,that's a fine theory, a noble deduction--but, how did Pollard committhat murder when he was at home in his hotel? Like you, I can't seehim employing a gunman. Rather, I see him going there to plead withGleason to spare him. Then, when Gleason refused, in the heat ofpassion, Pollard shot him."
"But the carefully prepared letter from Barry proves premeditation."
"That's so. And, remember his threat to kill Gleason. Would he havesaid that, if he had really intended to kill him?"
"I think so. I've thought all along, that Pollard's bravado was hishope of escape. He would argue that a man who made such a threat wouldnot be suspected. And, quite as he calculated, everybody said, 'oh, ifhe had meant to kill Gleason, he never would have advertised hisi
ntention.' That was a bold stroke, but an efficacious one. Yet, wecan't be right, Zizi, for he was at home. I've been to the hotelagain. I've tabulated all his movements. He did go home at six, he didgo out again at seven-twenty-five, and during that time he was in hisroom, because he telephoned twice, and he talked to the bellboy. Andthese three circumstances were at intervals of twenty minutes or so,therefore, he couldn't have been down in Washington Square at all.After he got into his taxi, the driver accounts for his every movementuntil he reached the Lindsay house at dinner time. So, there's hisalibi."
"Perfect."
"Yes, that's the trouble----"
"Now, don't say, 'distrust the perfect alibi,' Penny, for that's aplatitude and a silly one, too. Your innocent man has a perfect alibi.He may or may not remember it, but it's perfect all the same. Now,this alibi of Pollard's is, to all appearances, the alibi of aninnocent man. He has that secret of his past, Gleason did know it,that makes a motive. He did, as you say, fix up the Barryletter--though that may not be quite true----"
"What do you mean by that, Ziz?"
"I mean perhaps somebody else worked the vanishing ink, and allthat----"
"But who would want to?"
"The murderer--if it turns out to be not Pollard. Look here, Penny,Pollard is either innocent or guilty. If guilty, all your deductionsare correct, but if innocent they must be transferred to some oneelse."
"Surely. But to whom?"
"Dunno yet. Me, I think it is Pollard--but how, _how_, how did hemanage it?"
"Only by a confederate who did the deed."
"Which is not the solution! I don't know how I know it, but I knowthat didn't happen. Why, a villain might get a gunman to shootsomebody, but not to put up all that elaboration. The fingerprints,the telephoning stunt--all that was the work of an artist in crime,the cleverest criminal in the world, as you've admitted. Not ahireling."
"A hireling might be clever."
"Not in that way. No, a wizard like that is not anybody's hireling.He's in business for himself."
"Have it your own way. And I think you're right. Well, then, how didPollard get down there? Aeroplane?"
"No; there's a simple explanation, only we haven't got it yet.Incidentally, how did he get up to New Hampshire and back withoutbeing missed here in New York. Aeroplane?"
"He couldn't have done it at all. You're mistaken about seeing himthere."
"Maybe." Zizi knitted her pretty brows. "What time did he leave thehotel in that taxi to go to Phyllis' dinner?"
"Seven twenty-five. He had two errands on the way. He stopped----"
"I know. For theater tickets and for flowers. How do they know sopositively the exact time he left?"
"That's a coincidence. The doorman happened to catch sight ofPollard's wrist watch as he got into the cab. It has a luminousface--I've seen him wear it--and the doorman noticed it was justtwenty-five minutes after seven."
"What! Oh, oh, Penny! That explains it all! Oh, me, oh, my! To thinkof the simple solution! Oh, what a tangled web we weave, when first wepractise to deceive! Oh, gracious goodness sakes! Be sure your sinwill find you out!"
"For heaven's sake, Zizi, don't act like a wild woman! When you beginto quote things I know you're luny! Sit down and tell me what you'retalking about!"
"Is this a dagger that I see before me? Oh, what a noble mind was hereo'erthrown!"
"Don't get your Shakespeare mixed up. That first quotation is fromMacbeth, but the other is from Hamlet. You look more like one of thewitches!"
"Oh, I am! I am! Double, double, toil and trouble!"
"Zizi, behave! Stop your foolishness!"
The girl was dancing up and down the room like a veritable witch-elf.She flung her long, thin arms about, and was really excited, her brainteeming with the sudden revelation that had come to her.
"Do you remember the Macbeth witches?" she demanded, pausing beforehim, poised on one foot, and looking like a Sibyl herself.
"Of course I do! Double, double, toil and trouble; fire burn andcauldron bubble!"
"That's it--that's the answer! Oh, Penny Wise, it's as plain asday--as Day! I see it all--all--_all_!"
"Might I inquire what enlightened you?"
"The radium watch! The luminous face! Oh, I'm onto the watch! I'm onthe watch!"
"Zizi, you are crazy. I refuse to talk to you as long as you act sofoolishly. Will you be quiet and tell me things?"
"Penny, I'm so excited. Yes, I'll tell you, after I prove my case tomyself. I've got to go to the hotel--to Pollard's hotel--and see aboutsomething."
And in a moment she was gone, and in the shortest possible time shewas at the hotel.
"Again?" groaned the telephone girl, as Zizi earnestly began towhisper her questions.
"Yes, again--and yet." Zizi said: "Now, listen, and tell me this. Whatdid Mr Pollard say when he called his cab that night?"
"Why, that's a funny thing. Why do you ask that? He said 'Will youcall me a cab, please.'"
"Why was that funny?"
"Because he always says, 'Call me a taxi.' I remember, because I'mafraid some time I'll say, 'You're a taxi!'"
"Funny girl! Well, I'm trying to prove that Mr Pollard was not himselfthat night!"
"Oh--Mr Pollard never drinks anything."
"How do you know?"
"I just happen to know. You're wrong, he was perfectly sober."
"Then why did he telephone to the cleaner's when he knew it was pasttheir closing time?"
"I suppose he didn't think of that."
"Not like Manning Pollard's way. One more thing. Isn't Mr Pollard acareful dresser?"
"Is he! The finest ever. He's so particular, he's an old fuss."
"You know a lot about him, don't you?"
"I can't help it. A telephone operator gets side-lights on people whoare continually discussing their affairs over her lines. I don't haveto listen in, but I can't help knowing how often Mr Pollard telephonesto cleaners and tailors and haberdashers and all that. Can I?"
"No, honey, of course you can't. Good-by."
And as Zizi left the hotel she met Manning Pollard coming in. Helooked at her curiously, for though they had never met, Phyllis hadtold him of the queer girl, and he felt sure this was she.
To confirm it he went directly to the telephone girl and inquired ofher, and the obliging young woman repeated to him the whole of herconversation with Zizi.
"H'm," Pollard observed to himself, "h'm--exactly so."
And he turned on his heel and went out again.
Absorbed in his thoughts, he paid no attention to a slim little figurethat slipped out from a protecting doorway and followed him. Nor didhe notice that the determined little person kept on following him ashe boarded a Fifth Avenue Bus and went southward.
Zizi, who could make herself as inconspicuous as a schoolgirl when shechose, sat in the rear seat, looking out of the window.
Pollard got out at the Washington Square terminus, and walked brisklywestward. This was away from the Gleason apartments, though Zizi hadnot expected him to go there.
She followed, unnoticed, until Pollard entered what seemed to be asecond-rate boarding house.
Nodding her head contentedly, Zizi waited until her quarry again madean appearance.
Then as the man went over and took a North-bound Bus, Zizi found ataxicab and gave the order to fly back to Penny Wise.
It was after fifteen or twenty minutes of the excited girl'sconversation and explanations that Wise was in possession of all thefacts.
"Can we get him?" he asked, and then the telephone rang.
"Hello," said Wise, and received this astonishing response.
"Manning Pollard speaking. You have been too many for me, Mr Wise. Igive myself up. I don't know how you discovered so much, but I seethere's no use in further effort to hide my crime. I confess, and youmay come and take me. I am in my rooms at the hotel."
"You are a bit astonishing, Mr Pollard," Wise said. "But I accept yourinvitation and I will go at once to you. Wil
l you stay there till Icome."
"Certainly. When I perceive the game is up, what else is there for meto do? Moreover, would I call you up and surrender, if I were notsincere about it?"
"I can't see why you should. At your hotel, then? All right."
"Heavens, Zizi, what a man! I'll start right off. You call Prescott,and tell him just what Pollard said, and tell him to go to the hotelwith two policemen--or enough to take the prisoner."
Wise went and Zizi did as he had bade her.
"What?" Prescott cried, over the wire, "you don't say so! Well,wonders will never cease! I don't altogether believe in it, but I'llhurry to the hotel."
Then Zizi herself hurried to the hotel, more excited than ever.
She calmed herself a little on the way, for she knew she must be cooland collected to take her part in the scene.
She reached the hotel a moment or two before Prescott got there.
But he came, as she waited, and, seeing her, exclaimed, "Are you sure?Where's Mr Wise?"
"He isn't here," she said, a little unnecessarily. "I'll go up withyou."
"Come if you like," said Prescott, carelessly, and with his two huskycompanions he entered the elevator.
At Pollard's door the group paused, and Prescott knocked.
"Come in," they heard, and went in.
The man sitting in an easy chair sprang up.
"What the devil!" he cried.
"Easy now, Mr Pollard," Prescott said, "you told us to come and getyou, and we're here."
"Told you--come and get me---- Get out, I say!"
Prescott stared. Was this Manning Pollard? Talking so unlike himself!Clearly, it was not!
"Who are you?" Prescott said, curiously; and then, illogically, "MrPollard, who are you?"
"I'm not Manning Pollard. If you've come to arrest him, you've got thewrong man." But though blustering, the speaker was white with fear.Overcome with surprise and terror, he fell back into his chair andbegan to swear fluently.
"None of that, now," said Prescott, dumfounded, but vigilant. "Ifyou're not Manning Pollard you're his twin brother! Is that it?"
"No--oh, no."
"Well, then, who are you?"
"I'm--oh, hang it all--I'm Horace Taylor."
"And just what are you doing in Pollard's rooms? And why do you lookso much like him? You're his very double!"
"Double, double, toil and trouble!" Zizi chanted softly, to herself,but no one noticed her.
"I am," said Taylor, bitterly, "and he has betrayed me. I'll make aclean breast of it. I've done nothing wrong--and I didn't know he wasgoing to. I'm--well I'm his half-brother."
"You're the exact image of him in form and feature, but your manner isutterly different."
"Yes, because he has had education and culture--and I've had none."
"Well, out with your story."
"Manning Pollard is the son of the man who was also my father. We areexactly alike, though I'm a couple of years older."
"Are you a legitimate son?"
"I am not--but neither is Manning, though he was legally made so, byhis parents' marriage some years after he was born."
"You know all that?" cried Zizi. "You were up in Coggs' Hollow daybefore yesterday."
"Yes, miss. I saw you there, at the clerk's office. I knew then therewas trouble brewing for Manning."
"Double, double, toil and trouble----"
"Yes, miss, exactly that! Manning hired me to personate him here inhis rooms the night of--well, you know that night, Mr Prescott.He--oh, thunder! shall I tell it all?"
"Yes, tell it all," Prescott was breathless with curiosity andinterest.
"Well, he paid me heaps to meet him at a certain spot."
"Fifth Avenue and Forty-second Street?"
"Yes, in the crowd. He had supplied me with clothes just like his own,and given me full instructions."
"What were the instructions?" Prescott demanded.
"I was to meet him there, at about six, and I was to assume hisidentity for a time. I was to come here, come up to his rooms, here,dress for dinner, take a taxi and go away at exactly twenty-five pastseven. While here I was to telephone once or twice, also to call abellhop and see him."
"What a plot!" exclaimed Prescott, "oh, _what_ a plot!"
"I did all this, and then, later, when I went into the Astor for thetheater tickets, Manning met me there, and in the crowd, we changedidentities again, he got into the cab I had got out of, and he went onto the dinner and I went home."
"You knew what his object in all this was?"
"I did not! Before God I never would have consented if I had. He toldme it was to play a joke on some of his friends, and the price heoffered was so great I consented."
"And you telephoned to the cleaner's and all that?"
"Yes; and called the bellboy to take the letter--which Manning hadprepared. Then afterward, when I read the papers I felt sure thatManning had killed Robert Gleason. I never taxed him with it, for itwas none of my business and if it was true I didn't want to know it."
"This explains Mr Barry seeing Pollard over in Brooklyn--it was you, Isuppose."
"I suppose so. What are you going to do with me?"
"Hold you for the present, but if your story is true, you're merely adupe. How come you here now?"
"Manning came down to my place about an hour ago, and said for me tocome right up here and personate him again for an hour or so, and thenhe said he'd never trouble me again."
"You came willingly?"
"Oh, the poor chap was so upset, seemed in danger, and said I couldsave his life by doing this."
"You have. Of course he's miles away by now. What a mess--oh,_what_ a mess!"
Prescott was disgusted. First that such a gigantic hoax had been putover on him, and second that he had utterly lost all chance to catchthe perpetrator thereof.
"You put it over neatly enough," Prescott growled, looking at the man,Taylor.
"Yes, but I nearly muffed it. While I was dressing here that night,some guy called up to know Robert Gleason's address. I hadn't anotion, but I chanced to see a little address book on the desk, and Isoon found it."
"Yes, that was the butler of Davenport's patient," Prescottremembered. "Well, it was one great game. And we've lost our man!"
And then Pennington Wise came.
"Taylor?" he said, looking curiously at the double. "Well, you_are_ an exact duplicate!"
"What do you know about this?" cried Prescott, "Where's Pollard?"
"Dead," replied Wise, gravely. "I've just left your place, Taylor, andyour precious half-brother shot himself there fifteen minutes ago."
"Spill it," commanded Prescott.
"I knew when I got the message from Pollard that the dupe would behere so I sent you, Prescott, while I went down to Taylor's home. As Iexpected, Pollard was there. He made a full confession, seeing thegame was up, and then eluding my watchfulness, he shot himself. Icalled the police in and I came up here to tell you."
"I can't get over it," said Prescott, his eyes wide with wonder. "Whata scheme!"
"Simple in the main," said Wise, "but elaborate as to details. He leftnothing unprovided for. He foresaw every condition and met it. Theonly thing, and the thing that proved his undoing was his forgettingthat Mr Taylor had not enjoyed the same social advantages that hehimself had."
"What do you mean?" growled Taylor.
"He had evening clothes ready for you here. He planned for every itemof your conduct, but he couldn't know that you would wear a wristwatch with evening dress! That little incident caught the attention ofZizi, and from that she instantly deduced that the man that got intothat taxi with a wrist watch on in the evening, could not have beenManning Pollard himself! Moreover, he drew the attention of thedoorman to the time on its illuminated dial, and so, the luminous facefixed the time, but Pollard would have had on no wrist watch."
"That's so," agreed Prescott, "Pollard's a perfect dresser, I happento know."
"He confessed it all," went
on Wise. "He was game, I'll say, and hetold me frankly that Gleason had threatened to tell of his shamefulbirth. He was very sensitive about the matter. Gleason told him hewould disclose the secret unless Pollard ceased his attentions to MissLindsay. Also, Pollard knew, from Lane, of Gleason's will. Therefore,rid of Gleason, Pollard figured he could win Miss Lindsay and thefortune. So he set about to get rid of Gleason--and did. His threatthat day was, of course, with the idea that such a remark would tendto divert suspicion from him--which it did. His alibi, so perfectlyprepared, he scorned to declare, knowing that when it was learned byinquiry it would be satisfactory, which it was. That's all, except tocredit my assistant, Zizi, with the acumen which found out the truth.Her suspicion of a double was roused by the wrist watch episode. Shecame over here, and learned that the exact doings of the man here thatfatal evening were not precisely in Pollard's usual manner. Shewatched Pollard come in and go out again. She followed him, and whenhe went into a house, she felt sure it was the home of his double. Itwas! She saw a man come out, and though it was like Pollard, her newlyattentive eyes showed her it was not really he. Off guard, Taylor hasmany dissimilarities from his brother. She flew back to me with thestory, not knowing how soon the denouncements was to come. And then,when Pollard telephoned he would give himself up, I knew at once hemeant to have Taylor here in his place. So I went to Taylor's place,and a more surprised man than Manning Pollard I never saw!"
"As my reward," Zizi said quietly, "I want to be allowed to go andtell Phyllis Lindsay the truth. I love her so, and I don't want hershocked at hearing about it from a lot of policemen."
There was no objection on the part of anybody, and Zizi went on hererrand.
An hour later, when all three of the Lindsays had been told, and hadindeed been shocked and horrified, Philip Barry came in.
"Phyllis," he said, scarcely seeing any one else.
Phyllis rose and went straight to him. He held out his arms, and sheclung to him as they closed round her.
"I never doubted you for a minute, Phil," she said, "but that man hada sort of power over me--a--oh, almost an hypnotic power, I think."
"Forget him," Zizi advised, smiling at the pair.
"Now, you two talk over things, while I go in the library and flirtwith Louis, with Mrs Lindsay for chaperon. Forget everybody else, andthink there are only you two in the whole wide world."
THE END
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